This evening’s game was one of the most unpleasant and pointless affairs any of us are likely to witness.
Our visitors were not involved in a contest of any description. They were genially handed three points by a side devoid of any obvious qualities. It was a sham.
The crowd were subdued, it was bitingly cold, the football was literally not worth watching and we have whimpered away another home game.
Our system of performing reasonably for two games and then slumping into a familiar despondency has progressed beyond tedium – we are in grave danger.
As things stand we are within spitting distance of a safe position, but this is precisely why we now is the time for change.
When we perform well we look like a reasonable Championship side struggling to hold our heads above water. When we play badly we are hysterically useless.
Our ineptness is evident in every throw-in to static recipients, every corner that rebounds against the first defender, every squandered free kick, and every swirling high ball to our 5 foot centre forward.
These are the bread-and-butter essentials that one would rightly expect a new manager to address.
We line up as a side geared to play on the break and yet we bypass the midfield and leave our wingers into dead ends.
Teams can thwart and nullify everything we have to offer simply by sitting deep or closing down our defenders.
Balls go looping into the night sky and return as pressure, the defence reels at every cross, and – above all else – we just keep on losing games.
Most of us perceive Doncaster to be dead and buried, yet their supporters speak with confidence and enthusiasm eerily similar to that of the dying breed of optimists amongst us.
There is also a lot to be taken from the perception of other team’s supporters. Coventry fans left the Ricoh annoyed that they hadn’t defeated a very poor side,
Sheffield United supporters chatting on Radcliffe Road were falling over themselves to remark on how bad we are. It is getting embarrassing.
I simply cannot understand how eleven professional footballers can be as thoroughly hopeless as we were this evening.
Had the fourth official signalled for twenty minutes of stoppage time the premature exodus would have been equally as rampant – we would have played for a month and not equalised.
Lee Camp had more possession than anybody else as clueless defenders tapped clueless back-passes in his direction.
I spent most of the game watching draconian police and stewards scratching their heads for excuses to eject people. We’ll be down to 15,000 even if we survive at the rate they’re pinching season tickets.
It is demoralising, and nothing is happening to suggest that Calderwood et al have any plan other than to wait for our luck to turn.
We have already been waiting for far too long.
