Make no mistake, Raging Bill had to reach very deep into the top hat for his latest trick.
Coventry will be seething; recoiling like a wet kitten. Their show-stopping display has yielded a two goal deficit while a slumbering Forest continue to bark outside the Premiership’s back door.
This is how a Billy Davies side really butters its bread.
Throughout the last three months we have strutted, strode and scintillated. But a team that holds its own at the sharp of the Championship is one that can growl, grunt and grind.
The visitors overran our midfield, hacked our decorous triangles into frenzied loops and forced Camp into several smart saves. But they left with nothing, and ultimately Forest will be disappointed to have not added at least a third.
With a new year looming, it is worth pondering the overwhelming influence Davies has had on Nottingham Forest’s fortunes.
Twelve months ago we were pondering the very real threat of becoming a yo-yo club between League One and the Championship; bobbing moodily between the scrappy and the insufferable.
Now we are towering ominously above all challengers. Teams are posting us points without even turning up to fight for them.
Credit to Coventry for rolling up their sleeves, but the net result is the same. Forest march on again.
It is going to be quite hard to stomach when the comedown eventually begins. Knowing Forest it will be a cataclysmic derailing and not a graceful bow. But then none of us really know Forest anymore, and none of us really know what is going to happen next.
All the more reason, in my view, to enjoy it while it lasts.
The several thousand supporters who shuffled out of the ground early – again – should be lapping up every glorious second. They’ll be the first to heckle when reality returns.
But to the travelling fans who sneered at our support: do not get carried away, chaps, at most Coventry games the Ricoh Arena looks like an empty bath and sounds like a doctor’s waiting room.
Oh, and you are indeed going down with Derby.
Ratings:
Camp – 7.5 – a few frenetic moments, but numerous saves and several excellent claims as he launched from his line.
Gunter – 7 – solid and tireless.
Wilson – 8 – a fairly dozy start to the game and he initially struggled with a rumbustious Leon Best. But his last-ditch lunges kept the sheet clean. Again.
Morgan – 7.5 – rock solid. Again.
Shorey – 7.5 – one slack moment, otherwise another solid performance and some flawless crosses into the penalty area. He’d get into any side in the bottom half of the Premiership and won’t be joining Forest – but he is more than welcome too.
Cohen – 6.5 – a lost lamb at times.
Majewski – 7.5 - industrious as ever, and his shooting star surge from deep in the Forest half laid on Earnshaw’s crucial opener.
McKenna – 6.5 – aberrantly sloppy. Not a two games in two days man at his age.
Tyson – 6 – half asleep throughout and ballooned his one-on-one into the second tier.
Earnshaw – 7 – a beautiful first half goal.
Blackstock – 7.5 – difficult to contain.
Subs:
McCleary – 7
McGugan – 7
Adebola – 8.5
Clattenberg – 3 – posing in his fitted shirt and surgically-transplanted quiff, he looked every inch the twat that he is.
Monday 28 December 2009
Saturday 19 December 2009
Have a sherry for Bill
The tantalising reality this evening is that Forest weren’t actually that good.
The Tom Finney curtain which Preston brought instead of travelling supporters might as well have been a white flag of surrender.
For the second successive home game we witnessed a trembling opposition step out of our path, doff their caps and usher us merrily on our assent.
Preston’s performance screamed ‘have the points’ and Furious Bill is not in the business of turning down offers like those.
At 0-0 we were sharp, a 1-0 we were decisive, at 2-0 we were obstinately solid. At 3-0 we had one foot in the bath and another stretching for a play-off ticket.
Every time we scored I found myself pondering the screaming mass of swirling red scarves with the same baffled grin.
When will it end? As a Forest fan whose footballing life started in 1998 I know very well that it has to end at some point.
We are destined to be dismal. It’s a fait accompli.
But that is what makes Baying Bill’s conquest so intriguing. He does not care much for our time-honoured rubric of anti-climax and torture.
This man will spit in as many faces as is necessary to clear a path to glory.
His troops are not too shabby either. Waiting impatiently behind the impossibly mobile Adebola and the attention-hungry Earnshaw was Tyson, the division’s fastest player, McGoldrick, a £1m-rated forward, and Blackstock, a notorious marksmen.
Players like Lewis McGugan and Guy Moussi are sweating buckets just to make the bench. Yesteryear stalwarts Luke Chambers and James Perch – indubitable pillars of the Calderwood saga – are scarcely on the radar.
There is hunger, there is belief, there is competition – and there is a damn good manager shouting about it.
I have absolutely no idea if we can sustain this but I compel you all to raise a sherry to Raging Bill on Friday. We are unbeaten in what feels like a decade and Christmas is looking unusually merry.
Ratings
Camp – 6.5 – the television cameras don’t bring out the best in him. I always get the impression he’s looking at them through the corner of his eye.
Gunter – 6.5 – drifted off course once or twice but a solid performance.
Wilson – 7.5 – exceptional again; strides ahead of last season’s standard.
Morgan – 7.5 – unhindered and unphased by anything, including the introduction of Europe’s fattest strikeforce.
Shorey – 7.5 – the cameras were on, the world was watching, and transfer-hungry Shorey gave a guts-and-all performance of the highest standard. He’ll get his move, if it’s what he’s looking for, but I doubt it will be to Nottingham Forest.
Cohen – 6.5 – a lot of graft, but he’s no fan of the wing and it shows.
Majewski – 7.5 – a touch of continental class with the endearing spirit of Polish endeavour.
McKenna – 8 – a screamer of a goal and an almost flawless shift as he ran the midfield.
Adebola – 7 – continues to excel in ways he isn’t expected to. Did the business.
Earnshaw – 7 – posing aside, he was a real handful.
Subs:
McCleary – 7.5
McGugan – 7.5
Tyson – 7
Merciless Moaner’s Mythering Moment:
I know it was too cold to clap and the sort of weather that literally exterminates elderly people. But if we’ve smashed a team 3-0 all supporters should be forced to stay put until the final whistle. We looked a bit spoiled.
The Tom Finney curtain which Preston brought instead of travelling supporters might as well have been a white flag of surrender.
For the second successive home game we witnessed a trembling opposition step out of our path, doff their caps and usher us merrily on our assent.
Preston’s performance screamed ‘have the points’ and Furious Bill is not in the business of turning down offers like those.
At 0-0 we were sharp, a 1-0 we were decisive, at 2-0 we were obstinately solid. At 3-0 we had one foot in the bath and another stretching for a play-off ticket.
Every time we scored I found myself pondering the screaming mass of swirling red scarves with the same baffled grin.
When will it end? As a Forest fan whose footballing life started in 1998 I know very well that it has to end at some point.
We are destined to be dismal. It’s a fait accompli.
But that is what makes Baying Bill’s conquest so intriguing. He does not care much for our time-honoured rubric of anti-climax and torture.
This man will spit in as many faces as is necessary to clear a path to glory.
His troops are not too shabby either. Waiting impatiently behind the impossibly mobile Adebola and the attention-hungry Earnshaw was Tyson, the division’s fastest player, McGoldrick, a £1m-rated forward, and Blackstock, a notorious marksmen.
Players like Lewis McGugan and Guy Moussi are sweating buckets just to make the bench. Yesteryear stalwarts Luke Chambers and James Perch – indubitable pillars of the Calderwood saga – are scarcely on the radar.
There is hunger, there is belief, there is competition – and there is a damn good manager shouting about it.
I have absolutely no idea if we can sustain this but I compel you all to raise a sherry to Raging Bill on Friday. We are unbeaten in what feels like a decade and Christmas is looking unusually merry.
Ratings
Camp – 6.5 – the television cameras don’t bring out the best in him. I always get the impression he’s looking at them through the corner of his eye.
Gunter – 6.5 – drifted off course once or twice but a solid performance.
Wilson – 7.5 – exceptional again; strides ahead of last season’s standard.
Morgan – 7.5 – unhindered and unphased by anything, including the introduction of Europe’s fattest strikeforce.
Shorey – 7.5 – the cameras were on, the world was watching, and transfer-hungry Shorey gave a guts-and-all performance of the highest standard. He’ll get his move, if it’s what he’s looking for, but I doubt it will be to Nottingham Forest.
Cohen – 6.5 – a lot of graft, but he’s no fan of the wing and it shows.
Majewski – 7.5 – a touch of continental class with the endearing spirit of Polish endeavour.
McKenna – 8 – a screamer of a goal and an almost flawless shift as he ran the midfield.
Adebola – 7 – continues to excel in ways he isn’t expected to. Did the business.
Earnshaw – 7 – posing aside, he was a real handful.
Subs:
McCleary – 7.5
McGugan – 7.5
Tyson – 7
Merciless Moaner’s Mythering Moment:
I know it was too cold to clap and the sort of weather that literally exterminates elderly people. But if we’ve smashed a team 3-0 all supporters should be forced to stay put until the final whistle. We looked a bit spoiled.
Saturday 5 December 2009
"We're just too good for you..."
This one is dedicated to the four thousand Leicester City supporters whose collage of snarls, sneers and sobs will forever linger as an enduring trophy of this rout.
Talk is cheap. The cast of thousands bowled into the City Ground with great expectations but delivered little – their bungling heroes gave even less.
Prior to the game the blue mass was bewilderingly subdued; excitement peaked with a timorous ‘Leicester, Leicester, Leicester’ a few minutes into the game. But nothing followed. The puzzled travellers curled into a ball and absorbed every glorious second of the humiliation.
One blind supporter was heard enquiring: “Are there any Leicester supporters here today?”
I had a similar query about Leicester players.
That said, there was at least one Foxes star on display – arise, Mr Wayne Brown. Now take a bow, sir, for the joy you have brought to many thousands of Nottingham Forest supporters.
Alongside those glum Leicester faces, there is room in the cabinet for memories of Brown’s hysterical back-peddling shortly before Earnshaw’s third. He most certainly waved a white flag, but not before he’d vacuumed Robbie’s red carpet – and lit his cigar.
But perhaps I’m being a little hard on their slap-headed turkey of a centre half. After all, absolutely all of them were hilariously diabolical.
Considering this was Leicester’s showpiece fixture, the big day out, their performance bordered on unbelievable. There was none of the spirit, the vigour, or the life a supporter expects of a team playing on enemy territory.
They were slow and hesitant; they swarmed around our midfielders like children on a schoolyard and sent long balls into the abyss at every turn.
Their back four repeatedly left gaping spaces for our forwards to saunter into. For supporters sitting behind either goal it must have looked like cars streaming through the M6 toll booths.
We’re the cars, by the way. Wayne Brown is a toll booth.
But again, perhaps I’m being a little harsh. After all, Forest were sublime.
At times in the second half, as the passes zipped in triangles and the forwards surged on to crisp through balls, I literally pinched myself. ‘Dreamland’ is often a lazy way for brain-dead footballers to tell us they’re happy, or think they are.
Today it is the only word fit to describe our afternoon.
Something special is happening at the moment. We’re like a boulder thundering down a hill; we’re getting bigger, faster, and harder all the time. Managers of other sides are raising eyebrows and the players truly believe in themselves. Even Steve Claridge reckons we’re alright.
Last time we landed third in the Championship, Paul Hart told players to ‘cement themselves in the top six’. Davies doesn’t do cement, but he’s got plenty of dynamite.
For the first time in decades we have good players on the bench – and not because the manager is a tool, but because there are good players on the pitch too.
What a difference it makes to have a savagely competitive manager who knows exactly what he wants and isn’t afraid to ‘ask’ for it.
Large-headed Nigel Pearson was tactically raped and pillaged today. And he also looks like a butternut squash. Bad day at the office, pal.
Other contentious issues for anybody who cares: the phantom ‘penalty’ was definitely inside the box, the groove in the turf is visible on Google Earth. The actual penalty probably wasn’t a penalty, but it was worth it to hear the ironic Forest jeers drown out the Leicester fans.
And finally, credit to the army personnel who lapped up the praise and reignited the atmosphere while the Foxes sulked.
Ratings:
Camp – 7 – very little to do really, several nice waves at Capital One Corner.
Gunter – 6.5 – not his strongest performance, but he picked a good day for a dud.
Wilson – 8 – pulled us out of some sticky situations with excellent tackling back.
I’m not his biggest fan, but his recent form has been excellent.
Morgan – 8 – brute-like excellence from the non-stop rock.
Shorey – 7.5 – assured and convincing without ever needing to exert himself. Two excellent crosses into the box.
Anderson – 7.5 – excellent finish and a constant threat.
McKenna – 7.5 – tired towards the end, but a good performance.
Majewski – 7.5 – a lot of hard graft.
Cohen – 7.5 – indefatigable. Surprised he wasn’t sent off for the two bizarre lunges that followed his yellow card (for lunging).
Earnshaw – 10 – three half-chances, three beautiful goals. A master predator.
Blackstock – 7.5 – an incessant headache.
Subs:
Adebola – 7
McCleary – 7
Tyson – 7
Talk is cheap. The cast of thousands bowled into the City Ground with great expectations but delivered little – their bungling heroes gave even less.
Prior to the game the blue mass was bewilderingly subdued; excitement peaked with a timorous ‘Leicester, Leicester, Leicester’ a few minutes into the game. But nothing followed. The puzzled travellers curled into a ball and absorbed every glorious second of the humiliation.
One blind supporter was heard enquiring: “Are there any Leicester supporters here today?”
I had a similar query about Leicester players.
That said, there was at least one Foxes star on display – arise, Mr Wayne Brown. Now take a bow, sir, for the joy you have brought to many thousands of Nottingham Forest supporters.
Alongside those glum Leicester faces, there is room in the cabinet for memories of Brown’s hysterical back-peddling shortly before Earnshaw’s third. He most certainly waved a white flag, but not before he’d vacuumed Robbie’s red carpet – and lit his cigar.
But perhaps I’m being a little hard on their slap-headed turkey of a centre half. After all, absolutely all of them were hilariously diabolical.
Considering this was Leicester’s showpiece fixture, the big day out, their performance bordered on unbelievable. There was none of the spirit, the vigour, or the life a supporter expects of a team playing on enemy territory.
They were slow and hesitant; they swarmed around our midfielders like children on a schoolyard and sent long balls into the abyss at every turn.
Their back four repeatedly left gaping spaces for our forwards to saunter into. For supporters sitting behind either goal it must have looked like cars streaming through the M6 toll booths.
We’re the cars, by the way. Wayne Brown is a toll booth.
But again, perhaps I’m being a little harsh. After all, Forest were sublime.
At times in the second half, as the passes zipped in triangles and the forwards surged on to crisp through balls, I literally pinched myself. ‘Dreamland’ is often a lazy way for brain-dead footballers to tell us they’re happy, or think they are.
Today it is the only word fit to describe our afternoon.
Something special is happening at the moment. We’re like a boulder thundering down a hill; we’re getting bigger, faster, and harder all the time. Managers of other sides are raising eyebrows and the players truly believe in themselves. Even Steve Claridge reckons we’re alright.
Last time we landed third in the Championship, Paul Hart told players to ‘cement themselves in the top six’. Davies doesn’t do cement, but he’s got plenty of dynamite.
For the first time in decades we have good players on the bench – and not because the manager is a tool, but because there are good players on the pitch too.
What a difference it makes to have a savagely competitive manager who knows exactly what he wants and isn’t afraid to ‘ask’ for it.
Large-headed Nigel Pearson was tactically raped and pillaged today. And he also looks like a butternut squash. Bad day at the office, pal.
Other contentious issues for anybody who cares: the phantom ‘penalty’ was definitely inside the box, the groove in the turf is visible on Google Earth. The actual penalty probably wasn’t a penalty, but it was worth it to hear the ironic Forest jeers drown out the Leicester fans.
And finally, credit to the army personnel who lapped up the praise and reignited the atmosphere while the Foxes sulked.
Ratings:
Camp – 7 – very little to do really, several nice waves at Capital One Corner.
Gunter – 6.5 – not his strongest performance, but he picked a good day for a dud.
Wilson – 8 – pulled us out of some sticky situations with excellent tackling back.
I’m not his biggest fan, but his recent form has been excellent.
Morgan – 8 – brute-like excellence from the non-stop rock.
Shorey – 7.5 – assured and convincing without ever needing to exert himself. Two excellent crosses into the box.
Anderson – 7.5 – excellent finish and a constant threat.
McKenna – 7.5 – tired towards the end, but a good performance.
Majewski – 7.5 – a lot of hard graft.
Cohen – 7.5 – indefatigable. Surprised he wasn’t sent off for the two bizarre lunges that followed his yellow card (for lunging).
Earnshaw – 10 – three half-chances, three beautiful goals. A master predator.
Blackstock – 7.5 – an incessant headache.
Subs:
Adebola – 7
McCleary – 7
Tyson – 7
Saturday 28 November 2009
Foam hands aside
Foam hands aside, this was another very satisfying afternoon.
Never spectacular but competent throughout, Forest have turned out a thrashing with a very ordinary display.
It’s textbook Davies. Points pay bills, not performances - and he knows it.
Forest allowed the visitors their possession but stopped short of letting them do anything much with it. We saw plenty of the ball ourselves and with so much attacking quality in the side a solid defensive display was always likely to be crucial.
It was duly delivered, along with yet another weekend without defeat.
The transformation from Doncaster’s festive blitz last season is spectacular.
On that forlorn afternoon a lazy Forest side, bereft of any enthusiasm for the game, brought shame to the banks of the Trent. Around eleven months on and we are marching coolly for a top ten finish, perhaps more.
Davies - irritable, insecure and eerily shrewd - is barking this team into what is looking scarily like a play-off push.
It wasn’t ‘a good advert for the Championship as one or two couldn’t wait to say on the way out of the ground, in fact it all seemed rather dull for a five-goal game.
But during Calderwood stay today's game would have looked veritably Brazilian. One thing's for sure - it's good enough for me.
Neutrals
I suppose it would be rude to ignore today's "groundbreaking integration scheme".
The problem with the ‘neutral’ zone (surely to be dubbed the ‘Gay Block’?) is that it doesn’t provide anything especially useful. Home supporters already have a family block and away supporters could very easily be segregated into a family section – if there was enough demand.
Sitting a small group of like-minded sycophants together will earn safety chief Bexon a gold star, it may even prompt a little extra back-slapping for Supreme Leader Doughty and Chief Comrade Arthur.
But to fans on the front line it is at best irrelevant, and at worst unpalatable.
I drifted contentedly into the latter camp.
The incessant self-congratulation over the public address, the NHL-style foam pointers bearing the emblems of both sides, the mascot race unashamedly fixed
so both costumes could ‘win’. It wasn’t only unnatural, it was a pantomime.
This was an icy afternoon, cloaked in darkness with the floodlights blazing and the turf a piercing green.
What fans want in this indigenous setting is crunching tackles, flying clumps of turf and a game of football just about interesting enough to be angry about.
Or am I wrong? Perhaps this PR stunt happened to be the development we've all been waiting for. I doubt it.
Ratings:
Camp – 7 – he was annoyed to see his clean sheet spoiled. I enjoyed his blatant celebration of the Lewis’ thunderbolt; the Donny fans reeled, but I wonder what the neutrals made of it?
Gunter – 7.5 – solid display, complete with some exceptional overlaps.
Morgan – 7 – not the sponsors’ man of the match? Whose girlfriend has he bedded to solicit this indignity?
Wilson – 7 – several excellent interventions.
Shorey – 7 – the man knows how to play left-back.
Anderson – 6.5 - a busy performance, capped at 6.5 because of his ludicrous 70-yard kamikaze run. Can Main Stand fans please verify that he was screaming “save me, Lee”? Thanks.
McKenna – 7 – the terrier. Snapped at heels and kept things ticking over nicely.
Majewski – 7 – typical display, not consistently involved but dangerous when on the ball.
McCleary – 7 – fairly quiet in parts, but he worked hard and was rewarded as the visitors tired.
Earnshaw – 7 – if he plays, the goals will come.
Blackstock – 6.5 – personally I thought he looked rusty, especially because I’d grown very fond of the all-conquering, pre-injury Dexter. For some reason he was given man of the match.
Subs:
Adebola – 7 – the heavy goods wagon. A headache the Rovers defence did not relish after 75 minutes in the cold.
McGugan – 7 – four touches in about ten minutes, all of them wonderful.
McGoldrick - / - the game was over by the time he came on.
Never spectacular but competent throughout, Forest have turned out a thrashing with a very ordinary display.
It’s textbook Davies. Points pay bills, not performances - and he knows it.
Forest allowed the visitors their possession but stopped short of letting them do anything much with it. We saw plenty of the ball ourselves and with so much attacking quality in the side a solid defensive display was always likely to be crucial.
It was duly delivered, along with yet another weekend without defeat.
The transformation from Doncaster’s festive blitz last season is spectacular.
On that forlorn afternoon a lazy Forest side, bereft of any enthusiasm for the game, brought shame to the banks of the Trent. Around eleven months on and we are marching coolly for a top ten finish, perhaps more.
Davies - irritable, insecure and eerily shrewd - is barking this team into what is looking scarily like a play-off push.
It wasn’t ‘a good advert for the Championship as one or two couldn’t wait to say on the way out of the ground, in fact it all seemed rather dull for a five-goal game.
But during Calderwood stay today's game would have looked veritably Brazilian. One thing's for sure - it's good enough for me.
Neutrals
I suppose it would be rude to ignore today's "groundbreaking integration scheme".
The problem with the ‘neutral’ zone (surely to be dubbed the ‘Gay Block’?) is that it doesn’t provide anything especially useful. Home supporters already have a family block and away supporters could very easily be segregated into a family section – if there was enough demand.
Sitting a small group of like-minded sycophants together will earn safety chief Bexon a gold star, it may even prompt a little extra back-slapping for Supreme Leader Doughty and Chief Comrade Arthur.
But to fans on the front line it is at best irrelevant, and at worst unpalatable.
I drifted contentedly into the latter camp.
The incessant self-congratulation over the public address, the NHL-style foam pointers bearing the emblems of both sides, the mascot race unashamedly fixed
so both costumes could ‘win’. It wasn’t only unnatural, it was a pantomime.
This was an icy afternoon, cloaked in darkness with the floodlights blazing and the turf a piercing green.
What fans want in this indigenous setting is crunching tackles, flying clumps of turf and a game of football just about interesting enough to be angry about.
Or am I wrong? Perhaps this PR stunt happened to be the development we've all been waiting for. I doubt it.
Ratings:
Camp – 7 – he was annoyed to see his clean sheet spoiled. I enjoyed his blatant celebration of the Lewis’ thunderbolt; the Donny fans reeled, but I wonder what the neutrals made of it?
Gunter – 7.5 – solid display, complete with some exceptional overlaps.
Morgan – 7 – not the sponsors’ man of the match? Whose girlfriend has he bedded to solicit this indignity?
Wilson – 7 – several excellent interventions.
Shorey – 7 – the man knows how to play left-back.
Anderson – 6.5 - a busy performance, capped at 6.5 because of his ludicrous 70-yard kamikaze run. Can Main Stand fans please verify that he was screaming “save me, Lee”? Thanks.
McKenna – 7 – the terrier. Snapped at heels and kept things ticking over nicely.
Majewski – 7 – typical display, not consistently involved but dangerous when on the ball.
McCleary – 7 – fairly quiet in parts, but he worked hard and was rewarded as the visitors tired.
Earnshaw – 7 – if he plays, the goals will come.
Blackstock – 6.5 – personally I thought he looked rusty, especially because I’d grown very fond of the all-conquering, pre-injury Dexter. For some reason he was given man of the match.
Subs:
Adebola – 7 – the heavy goods wagon. A headache the Rovers defence did not relish after 75 minutes in the cold.
McGugan – 7 – four touches in about ten minutes, all of them wonderful.
McGoldrick - / - the game was over by the time he came on.
Sunday 1 November 2009
Ugly Billy’s Fuming Warriors
There are few better places to score a last minute goal than Cardiff.
Fans from Yorkshire and Wales are graceless winners and volatile losers. They celebrate goals with a goading, Neanderthal insolence that has a tendency to leave visitors feeling three inches tall.
By the same token they respond to misfortune with crimson-faced rage and an infallible sense of injustice.
As Forest fans we’ve been at the sharp end of their schadenfreude too many times. And in a season characterised by its pleasant surprises, Lewis’s bullet equaliser was one of the most pleasing yet.
It’s not that we played badly, not by any means. In fact we contained them comfortably in the most part, leaving Lee Camp to sweep up the scraps.
But containment was the order of the day, and when Bothroyd stabbed Cardiff in front I doubted our commitment to the task of wrestling a point from thin air.
We are, after all, a mid-table side.
Or are we? Ugly Billy’s Fuming Warriors are made of stern stuff. Chew us too hard and you’ll chip a tooth.
At long last we have a side capable of winning nastily; churning out results in the face of adversity and leaving opposing supporters feeling robbed, raped and pillaged.
At the same time we are fully capable of playing effeminate triangles that are guaranteed to keep granddad clapping. It’s all too perfect; if our bubble gets any bigger it will burst under its own steam.
But while reality may be lurking, it can’t take away today’s glories.
It can’t take away the bewildered rage of the hosts when Lewis struck.
It can’t take away the fact that it stopped raining so we could walk back to our cars after already soaking hundreds of Welshmen lumbered in the front rows of the stadium.
It can’t take away the fact that Cardiff have demolished their ‘cauldron’ and replaced it with a concrete shell and a lot of plastic.
I recorded the game on Sky+ but I’m not sure if I’ll bother watching it back.
I remember Lewis’ equaliser as an impeccable roundhouse volley, ala Zinedine Zidane in the Champions League Final. I remember the anguish and dismay in several thousand Cardiff faces.
And I remember unashamedly celebrating as if we had actually won the aforementioned Champions League final.
Steve Claridge will only spoil it.
Ratings
Camp – 7.5 – gobbled up most crosses through the swirling winds, made several smart saves and distributed quickly and accurately. What more could we want?
Gunter – 7 – excellent performance against his boyhood club. To deliver such a typically tempestuous display in front of his countrymen sums up the kind of player we have. Top drawer.
Morgan – 7 – solid as a brute.
Wilson – 7 – one or two slack moments, as per Wilson’s custom. But generally he kept things very tight against a notorious strikeforce.
Cohen – 7 – dug in and produced the goods when it was needed.
Moussi – 7 – no magic tricks today but he got the job done. All of a sudden I think there’s a few goals in those trembling feet.
McKenna – 6.5 – the usual guts and simple football, but his distribution was a bit sloppier than normal.
Garner – 5 – Davies has tried to reinvent him in light of competition, but the writing is sadly on the wall.
Majewski – 6.5 – drifted in and out of the game. Sharp when involved.
Anderson – 7 – resorted to falling over in frustration several times, but his pace and quick feet are an excellent outlet.
McGoldrick – 6 – roving behind the strikers he looked capable of carving them open. As lead man up front he lacks the strength, prowess or finish to be successful at this level.
Subs:
McCleary – 7
Adebola – 7
McGugan - 8
Fans from Yorkshire and Wales are graceless winners and volatile losers. They celebrate goals with a goading, Neanderthal insolence that has a tendency to leave visitors feeling three inches tall.
By the same token they respond to misfortune with crimson-faced rage and an infallible sense of injustice.
As Forest fans we’ve been at the sharp end of their schadenfreude too many times. And in a season characterised by its pleasant surprises, Lewis’s bullet equaliser was one of the most pleasing yet.
It’s not that we played badly, not by any means. In fact we contained them comfortably in the most part, leaving Lee Camp to sweep up the scraps.
But containment was the order of the day, and when Bothroyd stabbed Cardiff in front I doubted our commitment to the task of wrestling a point from thin air.
We are, after all, a mid-table side.
Or are we? Ugly Billy’s Fuming Warriors are made of stern stuff. Chew us too hard and you’ll chip a tooth.
At long last we have a side capable of winning nastily; churning out results in the face of adversity and leaving opposing supporters feeling robbed, raped and pillaged.
At the same time we are fully capable of playing effeminate triangles that are guaranteed to keep granddad clapping. It’s all too perfect; if our bubble gets any bigger it will burst under its own steam.
But while reality may be lurking, it can’t take away today’s glories.
It can’t take away the bewildered rage of the hosts when Lewis struck.
It can’t take away the fact that it stopped raining so we could walk back to our cars after already soaking hundreds of Welshmen lumbered in the front rows of the stadium.
It can’t take away the fact that Cardiff have demolished their ‘cauldron’ and replaced it with a concrete shell and a lot of plastic.
I recorded the game on Sky+ but I’m not sure if I’ll bother watching it back.
I remember Lewis’ equaliser as an impeccable roundhouse volley, ala Zinedine Zidane in the Champions League Final. I remember the anguish and dismay in several thousand Cardiff faces.
And I remember unashamedly celebrating as if we had actually won the aforementioned Champions League final.
Steve Claridge will only spoil it.
Ratings
Camp – 7.5 – gobbled up most crosses through the swirling winds, made several smart saves and distributed quickly and accurately. What more could we want?
Gunter – 7 – excellent performance against his boyhood club. To deliver such a typically tempestuous display in front of his countrymen sums up the kind of player we have. Top drawer.
Morgan – 7 – solid as a brute.
Wilson – 7 – one or two slack moments, as per Wilson’s custom. But generally he kept things very tight against a notorious strikeforce.
Cohen – 7 – dug in and produced the goods when it was needed.
Moussi – 7 – no magic tricks today but he got the job done. All of a sudden I think there’s a few goals in those trembling feet.
McKenna – 6.5 – the usual guts and simple football, but his distribution was a bit sloppier than normal.
Garner – 5 – Davies has tried to reinvent him in light of competition, but the writing is sadly on the wall.
Majewski – 6.5 – drifted in and out of the game. Sharp when involved.
Anderson – 7 – resorted to falling over in frustration several times, but his pace and quick feet are an excellent outlet.
McGoldrick – 6 – roving behind the strikers he looked capable of carving them open. As lead man up front he lacks the strength, prowess or finish to be successful at this level.
Subs:
McCleary – 7
Adebola – 7
McGugan - 8
Wednesday 21 October 2009
Very Strange Times at NG2
Five wins in a row, a chest-puffing knockout on live television, a last gasp winner on a damp Tuesday evening. Clean sheets.
Clean sheets?
I’m fairly sure I wasn’t the only person pinching myself when Guy Moussi dementedly volleyed in his winner on Tuesday evening. I’m absolutely certain I wasn’t the only one to take celebrations a pint too far on Saturday.
It’s forgivable; this isn’t the sort of thing we’re used to.
At any other point over the last five years Dexter Blackstock’s scuffed finish would have bobbled wide, and during Calderwood’s stint – marked by its repeated frustrations – we would surely have been beaten in a game as fairly split as Tuesday’s.
The effect of the form is remarkable. Saturday’s atmosphere was hair-raising; songs rippled around all four stands for 90 minutes – just a decibel or two away from match a D*rby day.
Tuesday’s game drew 2,000 extra lurkers from the shadows they usually hide in during midweek fixtures. And they’ll have enjoyed it.
Despite a heavy-legged second half that was fraught with errors, Tuesday evening was spliced with crisp passing football, resilient defending and enough chances to win five games. Saturday’s game provided unparalleled entertainment throughout.
Of course, it can’t last. The Championship is volatile and fickle; in three weeks we could have been spat back into 16th place, in six we could be stamped into the relegation zone.
If we can somehow brace the tide of niggling injuries, overlapping suspensions, finicky referees, and waving fortunes then things might just get an awful lot stranger.
Personally, I’m just enjoying it while it lasts.
Thursday 1 October 2009
Toes
Not an inspiring evening, but an enjoyable win and one that could prove important.
We have successfully extracted six points from two tricky fixtures, both of which were fraught with frustration. Tonight especially was like repeatedly stubbing your little toe into the frame of a door.
For a long time we threatened to descend into a familiar pantomime of squandering chances until there were none left to squander.
But quality prevailed and this will be remembered as a comfortable win. After a series of frustrating home performances this is an important turning point and hopefully the beginning of a precedent.
At times we even played some fairly progressive football, and the very fact that we seem fated for mid-table brought an element of humour to the toe-stubbing.
Tyson’s various jelly-legged collapses raised sniggers as opposed to the clenched fists of a supporter fearing relegation, and quite a few were able to muster knowing grins when Gunter somehow failed to score from four centimetres.
Davies is overtly content with our mid-table destiny, and if this sort of easygoing affair is the sum of a season with modest ambitions then so am I.
Ratings:
Camp – 7 – the usual competent response to searching corners; gobble them up.
Gunter – 7.5 – aggressive, niggling and generally excellent.
Chambers -7 – sensibly backed at 33-1 for first goalscorer by a chap sitting nearby. Luke Chambers has never been so popular with anybody on the planet, including his mother.
Morgan – 7 – solid performance and kept their lumbering centre forward quiet until the last ten minutes.
Cohen – 7 – solid performance and good going forward.
Anderson – 7.5 – pace and spontaneity were a constant threat. However, what on earth was his 45-yard second touch when he broke clean through?
McKenna – 7 – a picture of competence.
Majewski – 6.5 – took advantage of some static defending with some of the best corners we’ve seen at Forest in a while. Otherwise he was quieter than he can be, but he still looks a very good player.
Garner – 5.5 – a forgotten man over pre-season, now a Davies’ favourite for every position barring the one he’s suited to.
Blackstock – 7.5 – a real handful and another goal.
Tyson – 6 – his pace almost always causes problems, but he had one of those goofy evenings where his legs quake and his concentration drifts.
Subs
McGoldrick - 7
Lynch – 6
Moussi - 6
We have successfully extracted six points from two tricky fixtures, both of which were fraught with frustration. Tonight especially was like repeatedly stubbing your little toe into the frame of a door.
For a long time we threatened to descend into a familiar pantomime of squandering chances until there were none left to squander.
But quality prevailed and this will be remembered as a comfortable win. After a series of frustrating home performances this is an important turning point and hopefully the beginning of a precedent.
At times we even played some fairly progressive football, and the very fact that we seem fated for mid-table brought an element of humour to the toe-stubbing.
Tyson’s various jelly-legged collapses raised sniggers as opposed to the clenched fists of a supporter fearing relegation, and quite a few were able to muster knowing grins when Gunter somehow failed to score from four centimetres.
Davies is overtly content with our mid-table destiny, and if this sort of easygoing affair is the sum of a season with modest ambitions then so am I.
Ratings:
Camp – 7 – the usual competent response to searching corners; gobble them up.
Gunter – 7.5 – aggressive, niggling and generally excellent.
Chambers -7 – sensibly backed at 33-1 for first goalscorer by a chap sitting nearby. Luke Chambers has never been so popular with anybody on the planet, including his mother.
Morgan – 7 – solid performance and kept their lumbering centre forward quiet until the last ten minutes.
Cohen – 7 – solid performance and good going forward.
Anderson – 7.5 – pace and spontaneity were a constant threat. However, what on earth was his 45-yard second touch when he broke clean through?
McKenna – 7 – a picture of competence.
Majewski – 6.5 – took advantage of some static defending with some of the best corners we’ve seen at Forest in a while. Otherwise he was quieter than he can be, but he still looks a very good player.
Garner – 5.5 – a forgotten man over pre-season, now a Davies’ favourite for every position barring the one he’s suited to.
Blackstock – 7.5 – a real handful and another goal.
Tyson – 6 – his pace almost always causes problems, but he had one of those goofy evenings where his legs quake and his concentration drifts.
Subs
McGoldrick - 7
Lynch – 6
Moussi - 6
Saturday 19 September 2009
One of those seasons?
Another one of those games, no question. The real poser is whether or not this is becoming one of those seasons.
Despite rarely even flirting with competence Forest had enough chances to win three games. But a series of dubious calls by Davies and the anguishing absence of any good fortune saw Forest slump to a gloomy home defeat.
There can be no complaints. Davies favours containment and revels in wringing points from despondent performances, but when it doesn’t work it’s miserable stuff.
Blackpool are a cumbersome bunch of simple virtue. They stumble and barge their way to points, playing into the channels and limiting much of their possession to the back four. Sadly, Forest pandered to their every whim with a strategy of unrelenting through balls into the abyss.
The fleet of gilt-edged chances that shortly preceded the winning goal were the product of clumsy Blackpool errors and Tyson breakaways. There was very little else to offer.
The longer the visitors held the lead, the fewer errors there were. Tyson’s energy dwindled in tandem, leaving us with nothing.
Earnshaw’s withdrawal seemed as much of an error as McGoldrick’s starting berth, and there are few things more tedious in football than the sight of ‘big men up front’ who aren’t winning headers.
The final 20 minutes should have been a siege for the points. Instead they were monotonous and predictable.
Blackpool eased down the clock; the modest pack of visiting fans found their voices and the dissenting home crowd collapsed into an exasperated sulk.
The full-time boo-boys were drowned out by begrudging applause. But too many more points squirming down the drain and the notoriously impatient Nottingham public will find themselves enduring an uncomfortably familiar winter of discontent.
-
Lessons learned: McGoldrick and Earnshaw is a fruitless partnership. Earnshaw is the club’s most reliable marksman and should start every game alongside one of the lumps.
If Cohen is to start he must play in his natural position, not as a right winger, a left winger, a defender, or indeed a floating striker. What must the army of attackers on the bench have made of his uncomfortable advanced role?
Lynch and Chambers probably wouldn’t make the Notts County team.
Playing 4-5-1 at home to Blackpool (with ankle-biting Earnshaw is a focal point) is fundamentally wrong.
Ratings:
Camp – 6.5 – not his strongest performance.
Gunter – 7 – found himself at the byline playing searching balls into the box on three or four occasions, always a positive sign for a full back.
Chambers – 5 – endless side-footed balls looping to the Blackpool defence.
Morgan – 5.5 – dealt with the ensuing Chalie Adam with all the grace of an over-turned wagon.
Lynch – 5.5 – sometimes incompetent, sometimes a passenger.
Cohen – 6 – out of position, despite trying out several.
Moussi – 6 – some good points, but when he isn’t doing something remarkable (which he is capable of) he doesn’t seem to be doing much.
McKenna – 6.5 – strong, but lost in a system of long balls.
McGoldrick – 6 - to be brutally honest, I don't see the point of him yet.
Tyson – 7 – our only outlet
Earnshaw – 6.5 – busy and dangerous, but should have scored.
Despite rarely even flirting with competence Forest had enough chances to win three games. But a series of dubious calls by Davies and the anguishing absence of any good fortune saw Forest slump to a gloomy home defeat.
There can be no complaints. Davies favours containment and revels in wringing points from despondent performances, but when it doesn’t work it’s miserable stuff.
Blackpool are a cumbersome bunch of simple virtue. They stumble and barge their way to points, playing into the channels and limiting much of their possession to the back four. Sadly, Forest pandered to their every whim with a strategy of unrelenting through balls into the abyss.
The fleet of gilt-edged chances that shortly preceded the winning goal were the product of clumsy Blackpool errors and Tyson breakaways. There was very little else to offer.
The longer the visitors held the lead, the fewer errors there were. Tyson’s energy dwindled in tandem, leaving us with nothing.
Earnshaw’s withdrawal seemed as much of an error as McGoldrick’s starting berth, and there are few things more tedious in football than the sight of ‘big men up front’ who aren’t winning headers.
The final 20 minutes should have been a siege for the points. Instead they were monotonous and predictable.
Blackpool eased down the clock; the modest pack of visiting fans found their voices and the dissenting home crowd collapsed into an exasperated sulk.
The full-time boo-boys were drowned out by begrudging applause. But too many more points squirming down the drain and the notoriously impatient Nottingham public will find themselves enduring an uncomfortably familiar winter of discontent.
-
Lessons learned: McGoldrick and Earnshaw is a fruitless partnership. Earnshaw is the club’s most reliable marksman and should start every game alongside one of the lumps.
If Cohen is to start he must play in his natural position, not as a right winger, a left winger, a defender, or indeed a floating striker. What must the army of attackers on the bench have made of his uncomfortable advanced role?
Lynch and Chambers probably wouldn’t make the Notts County team.
Playing 4-5-1 at home to Blackpool (with ankle-biting Earnshaw is a focal point) is fundamentally wrong.
Ratings:
Camp – 6.5 – not his strongest performance.
Gunter – 7 – found himself at the byline playing searching balls into the box on three or four occasions, always a positive sign for a full back.
Chambers – 5 – endless side-footed balls looping to the Blackpool defence.
Morgan – 5.5 – dealt with the ensuing Chalie Adam with all the grace of an over-turned wagon.
Lynch – 5.5 – sometimes incompetent, sometimes a passenger.
Cohen – 6 – out of position, despite trying out several.
Moussi – 6 – some good points, but when he isn’t doing something remarkable (which he is capable of) he doesn’t seem to be doing much.
McKenna – 6.5 – strong, but lost in a system of long balls.
McGoldrick – 6 - to be brutally honest, I don't see the point of him yet.
Tyson – 7 – our only outlet
Earnshaw – 6.5 – busy and dangerous, but should have scored.
Saturday 12 September 2009
A sea of red (and a blue pillar)
-
Hillsborough was queen of stadia in its day but time has pulled no punches in drawing it in line with its grim surroundings. Today the searing late-summer sunshine showcased the rusting blemishes of every corrugated wall.
But the sea of red shirts flooding Leppings Lane was a beautiful sight nonetheless, and for a few precious minutes it seemed the afternoon was going to be all about us.
Spurred by our own ability to assemble such a crowd, the boisterous visiting fans puffed their chests and blew the ball over the line after what felt like seconds.
But the noise dipped, the novelty faded and the performance collapsed helplessly into the realms of mundane, and later simply unpleasant.
Misleading early signs were that Anderson’s pace, Garner’s guts and Blackstock’s presence would be too much for an average Wednesday side.
Shortly after taking the lead Joe Garner spurned a fine opportunity by placing a glorious tee-off straight through a blue pillar and into grasping range of the keeper.
And Blackstock buckled when a scything cross-box ball fell to him with only a blue pillar to beat.
Sadly the blue pillar proved less of an obstruction when Wednesday began their resurgence.
Forest picked up bad habits, squandering possession carelessly and settling for roundhouse volleys into no man’s land. For a long time we cleared immediate danger with this ham-fisted strategy but the equaliser had always seemed inevitable.
Wednesday stuck to their task, growing in confidence throughout the half and deserving their share of the outcome.
In the second half, attacking the swamp of red, there were fleeting signs of a revival. The hosts continued to make better use of the ball, but there were enough bright sparks in the Forest side to keep hopes of an unwarranted victory alive well into stoppage time.
On two occasions in the second half the ball was sent zipping across Wednesday’s goal-line, begging in vain for a conversion.
No such luck. A win would have flattered us, and the performance asked more questions than it answered. But we had the better chances and were only a toe-poke away from a vintage Billy Davies smash-and-grab.
More irritating than the performance was the continued intervention of the blue pillars. And more irritating than the pillars was the referee, an outed Scargill-sympathiser with astoundingly selective eyesight.
Ratings
Camp – 7 – gobbled up every hanging ball with impeccable timing and confidence.
Gunter – 7 – great spirit coming forward and solid at the back.
Chambers – 5.5 – never too far from an accident.
Morgan – 7.5 – some great lunging tackles and a successful brick wall policy throughout.
Lynch – 5 – woeful distribution; mindless long balls looping off target all game.
Anderson – 8 – a real handful
McKenna – 6 – his poorest game at the club. Great desire and work rate, as ever, but played some bizarre passes into enemy territory.
Cohen – 5 – sloppy and off the pace. Needs a settled role in the side.
Garner – 6 – scrappy and determined, but cruising towards a second yellow and a necessary sacrifice for the system.
Blackstock – 7 - kept busy and took his goal well.
McGoldrick – 6.5 – decent performance.
Hillsborough was queen of stadia in its day but time has pulled no punches in drawing it in line with its grim surroundings. Today the searing late-summer sunshine showcased the rusting blemishes of every corrugated wall.
But the sea of red shirts flooding Leppings Lane was a beautiful sight nonetheless, and for a few precious minutes it seemed the afternoon was going to be all about us.
Spurred by our own ability to assemble such a crowd, the boisterous visiting fans puffed their chests and blew the ball over the line after what felt like seconds.
But the noise dipped, the novelty faded and the performance collapsed helplessly into the realms of mundane, and later simply unpleasant.
Misleading early signs were that Anderson’s pace, Garner’s guts and Blackstock’s presence would be too much for an average Wednesday side.
Shortly after taking the lead Joe Garner spurned a fine opportunity by placing a glorious tee-off straight through a blue pillar and into grasping range of the keeper.
And Blackstock buckled when a scything cross-box ball fell to him with only a blue pillar to beat.
Sadly the blue pillar proved less of an obstruction when Wednesday began their resurgence.
Forest picked up bad habits, squandering possession carelessly and settling for roundhouse volleys into no man’s land. For a long time we cleared immediate danger with this ham-fisted strategy but the equaliser had always seemed inevitable.
Wednesday stuck to their task, growing in confidence throughout the half and deserving their share of the outcome.
In the second half, attacking the swamp of red, there were fleeting signs of a revival. The hosts continued to make better use of the ball, but there were enough bright sparks in the Forest side to keep hopes of an unwarranted victory alive well into stoppage time.
On two occasions in the second half the ball was sent zipping across Wednesday’s goal-line, begging in vain for a conversion.
No such luck. A win would have flattered us, and the performance asked more questions than it answered. But we had the better chances and were only a toe-poke away from a vintage Billy Davies smash-and-grab.
More irritating than the performance was the continued intervention of the blue pillars. And more irritating than the pillars was the referee, an outed Scargill-sympathiser with astoundingly selective eyesight.
Ratings
Camp – 7 – gobbled up every hanging ball with impeccable timing and confidence.
Gunter – 7 – great spirit coming forward and solid at the back.
Chambers – 5.5 – never too far from an accident.
Morgan – 7.5 – some great lunging tackles and a successful brick wall policy throughout.
Lynch – 5 – woeful distribution; mindless long balls looping off target all game.
Anderson – 8 – a real handful
McKenna – 6 – his poorest game at the club. Great desire and work rate, as ever, but played some bizarre passes into enemy territory.
Cohen – 5 – sloppy and off the pace. Needs a settled role in the side.
Garner – 6 – scrappy and determined, but cruising towards a second yellow and a necessary sacrifice for the system.
Blackstock – 7 - kept busy and took his goal well.
McGoldrick – 6.5 – decent performance.
Saturday 29 August 2009
Robert William Savage, how was it for you?
***
There’s an infectious buzz around the stadium. Nausea, sensation and apprehension fill the air. A legion of dreamers are debating, daring and dreading.
Then it begins. For some the butterflies explode; a draw will do Forest, just don’t let these bastards have their moment again. Others are knocked back by their own bloodcurdling roar and nothing but a win will do.
Before anybody can make sense of it, Radoslaw Majewski crashes the ball into the top corner and a violent ecstasy sweeps the stadium. The bed-wetters are already thinking about Chris Cohen’s impossibly early strike last season, most are crushing into the aisles in delusional joy.
The swamp of Derby supporters is still, save for the dissenting V-signs of those who cannot stomach the scenes.
Every Derby attack threatens to spoil the mood, every fleeting Commons touch triggers unspeakable fury.
And then it’s two, and it’s chaos and it doesn’t make sense. But it’s brilliant.
***
What followed defies satisfactory explanation. Derby looked to have scored, but their detestable celebrations were drowned out by City Ground jeers. Relief.
Tyson broke clean through and seemed to have shuffled off path, but the ball squirmed over the line and at that moment I was within spitting distance of optimum happiness.
The third goal seemed to bring guarantees. It seemed to confirm the result and rubber stamp the evening’s beer-soaked celebrations.
I was happy for half-time to never end. The first 45 had been among the best in living memory and the second half was only ever going to be awkward. I just had no idea how much.
The early goal that rolled over the line had everybody longing to avoid the drama and tension that seemed increasingly inevitable. The second squirming deflection sent us into meltdown.
I had little faith in our reeling defence, and I was alarmed by the sudden inability to string two passes in sequence. For a long time I had almost accepted an equaliser as inevitable, but I still dreaded it with everything I had.
The volcanic roar that followed Billy’s appeal for support dragged us over the line, and sheer grit hauled us through nine excruciating minutes of stoppage time.
The full-time whistle triggered relief akin to the promotion against Yeovil. I lingered in the stands with thousands of others to exalt in every precious moment of their dismay.
The wonderful thing about football is that it incredibly fickle. Derby had their moment in the sun last season – but it’s gone, it’s over, it’s a statistic.
All any one of them will be able to think about is the beautiful sight of Nathan Tyson sauntering by with his Forest corner flag, a subversive smirk stretching ear-to-ear.
The mêlée that followed showed the intensity of the occasion. The lifting of the Brian Clough Trophy showed that we are, finally, back on top of the old tussle.
The Forest fans who had the privilege of strolling back to their cars with hearts pounding and throats aching have been blessed with memories that will last a lifetime. Or at least until January 30...
Robert William Savage, how was it for you?
***
Ratings – is there any point? The only thing I can remember in any significant detail is launching myself into a writhing mass of red shirts after 58 seconds of this ridiculous, and stunning, afternoon.
There’s an infectious buzz around the stadium. Nausea, sensation and apprehension fill the air. A legion of dreamers are debating, daring and dreading.
Then it begins. For some the butterflies explode; a draw will do Forest, just don’t let these bastards have their moment again. Others are knocked back by their own bloodcurdling roar and nothing but a win will do.
Before anybody can make sense of it, Radoslaw Majewski crashes the ball into the top corner and a violent ecstasy sweeps the stadium. The bed-wetters are already thinking about Chris Cohen’s impossibly early strike last season, most are crushing into the aisles in delusional joy.
The swamp of Derby supporters is still, save for the dissenting V-signs of those who cannot stomach the scenes.
Every Derby attack threatens to spoil the mood, every fleeting Commons touch triggers unspeakable fury.
And then it’s two, and it’s chaos and it doesn’t make sense. But it’s brilliant.
***
What followed defies satisfactory explanation. Derby looked to have scored, but their detestable celebrations were drowned out by City Ground jeers. Relief.
Tyson broke clean through and seemed to have shuffled off path, but the ball squirmed over the line and at that moment I was within spitting distance of optimum happiness.
The third goal seemed to bring guarantees. It seemed to confirm the result and rubber stamp the evening’s beer-soaked celebrations.
I was happy for half-time to never end. The first 45 had been among the best in living memory and the second half was only ever going to be awkward. I just had no idea how much.
The early goal that rolled over the line had everybody longing to avoid the drama and tension that seemed increasingly inevitable. The second squirming deflection sent us into meltdown.
I had little faith in our reeling defence, and I was alarmed by the sudden inability to string two passes in sequence. For a long time I had almost accepted an equaliser as inevitable, but I still dreaded it with everything I had.
The volcanic roar that followed Billy’s appeal for support dragged us over the line, and sheer grit hauled us through nine excruciating minutes of stoppage time.
The full-time whistle triggered relief akin to the promotion against Yeovil. I lingered in the stands with thousands of others to exalt in every precious moment of their dismay.
The wonderful thing about football is that it incredibly fickle. Derby had their moment in the sun last season – but it’s gone, it’s over, it’s a statistic.
All any one of them will be able to think about is the beautiful sight of Nathan Tyson sauntering by with his Forest corner flag, a subversive smirk stretching ear-to-ear.
The mêlée that followed showed the intensity of the occasion. The lifting of the Brian Clough Trophy showed that we are, finally, back on top of the old tussle.
The Forest fans who had the privilege of strolling back to their cars with hearts pounding and throats aching have been blessed with memories that will last a lifetime. Or at least until January 30...
Robert William Savage, how was it for you?
***
Ratings – is there any point? The only thing I can remember in any significant detail is launching myself into a writhing mass of red shirts after 58 seconds of this ridiculous, and stunning, afternoon.
Wednesday 19 August 2009
Hairdryer Blast
It’s fascinating just how much a goal can change a football match.
Crawling wearily toward half-time, a goal behind with stray passes everywhere, the home supporters were rousing from their slumber only to heckle. The side were never more than one unfortunate ricochet from a hairdryer blast from the terraces.
At 1-1 all four stands stood to sing in unison, roaring the side into the break and receiving the half-time whistle with rapturous applause.
A similar applause would have rained down in adulation at full-time had any one of Forest’s second half chances found the net. But they didn’t, and the first boo boys of the season prematurely cleared their throats comfortably ahead of the final whistle.
Forest were not very good last night, there is little point arguing otherwise. But the restlessness and impatience from the stands was typically misplaced.
Spurred by the surprising venom of Tyson’s byline in-swingers and profiting hugely from Majewski’s vigorous bursts, a win was always on the cards in spite of mediocrity in every department.
A fragile defence, burdened with a daydreaming Chris Cohen, were responsible for the collapse. And with it they were responsible for the premature fury of 18,000 Reds.
As for the performance itself, Forest were far too negative. As well as failing the physical battle there was far too much sitting deep, holding tight, and quite literally waiting for one of the various forwards on the pitch to make something happen.
For a long time our only outlet was Nathan Tyson, whose jagged runs and crosses were a rare sign of life. I initially blamed Lewis for failing in his role to weave defence and attack, but despite a strong individual display from Majewski it didn’t get a great deal better when he was subbed.
Billy favours a system of containing teams for long periods and his teams notoriously ride their luck before turning the screw.
If it brings success to the banks of the Trent, it will do for me. But it will never work if the side is going to ship four goals at home to Watford, and it will never work if dwindling home crowds continue believing they can boo us to the Premier League.
PS As an added bonus, I wasted £40 on the revolting new home shirt prior to the game and hated it so much that I left it under my seat at full-time.
Several curiosity-inspired calls to the club have confirmed that the stewards and populace of Nottingham have generously neglected to hand in said shirt. Evidently they are aware of my revulsion and are kindly shielding me from the embarrassment of wearing it.
Cheers.
Ratings
Camp – 6 – not his strongest performance, despite almost denying the second goal with his initial block. It’s easy to defend him because he spent most of the game roasting his defence. With Smith in goal, probably apologising, it could have been a massacre.
Gunter – 6 – reasonable if not brilliant performance from a player who is clearly a cut above his defensive colleagues.
Morgan – 6 – seemed to be caught in two minds all night. Several good challenges were nullified by his poor decision-making, and the fact that he was easily beaten in the air for the first goal.
Lynch – 6 – good in patches, poor in others. A lot of the Watford breakaways, especially in the first half, were via Cohen and Lynch’s side of the defence.
Cohen – 4 –played fairly well on Saturday but got absolutely everything wrong last night. Even simple passes failed him.
Anderson – 5.5 – one or two sharp moments, but generally he was just not involved.
McGugan – 6 – drifted in and out and relevance before being injured. With two months to sit out, he will be missed.
McKenna – 6 – the usual McKenna characteristics, but in a game where the central midfield might as well have watched from the sidelines.
Tyson – 7 – his crossing, which is usually fairly poor, was excellent for most of the game. When we stopped playing him into the channels, the chances dried up.
Earnshaw – 6 – he toiled and laboured but got nowhere. Sometimes he had to drop back to the half way line just to get a feel of the ball.
Blackstock – 6.5 – actually did a less efficient version of the job Adebola did on Saturday. But he scored.
Subs:
Majewski – 7.5 – planting himself high up the field, he was a real thorn in the side for Watford.
Adebola – 6.5 – bagged a goal and was unfortunate to be booked for his first action (winning a header).
McGoldrick – 6.5 – fairly anonymous, but created Adebola’s goal.
Crawling wearily toward half-time, a goal behind with stray passes everywhere, the home supporters were rousing from their slumber only to heckle. The side were never more than one unfortunate ricochet from a hairdryer blast from the terraces.
At 1-1 all four stands stood to sing in unison, roaring the side into the break and receiving the half-time whistle with rapturous applause.
A similar applause would have rained down in adulation at full-time had any one of Forest’s second half chances found the net. But they didn’t, and the first boo boys of the season prematurely cleared their throats comfortably ahead of the final whistle.
Forest were not very good last night, there is little point arguing otherwise. But the restlessness and impatience from the stands was typically misplaced.
Spurred by the surprising venom of Tyson’s byline in-swingers and profiting hugely from Majewski’s vigorous bursts, a win was always on the cards in spite of mediocrity in every department.
A fragile defence, burdened with a daydreaming Chris Cohen, were responsible for the collapse. And with it they were responsible for the premature fury of 18,000 Reds.
As for the performance itself, Forest were far too negative. As well as failing the physical battle there was far too much sitting deep, holding tight, and quite literally waiting for one of the various forwards on the pitch to make something happen.
For a long time our only outlet was Nathan Tyson, whose jagged runs and crosses were a rare sign of life. I initially blamed Lewis for failing in his role to weave defence and attack, but despite a strong individual display from Majewski it didn’t get a great deal better when he was subbed.
Billy favours a system of containing teams for long periods and his teams notoriously ride their luck before turning the screw.
If it brings success to the banks of the Trent, it will do for me. But it will never work if the side is going to ship four goals at home to Watford, and it will never work if dwindling home crowds continue believing they can boo us to the Premier League.
PS As an added bonus, I wasted £40 on the revolting new home shirt prior to the game and hated it so much that I left it under my seat at full-time.
Several curiosity-inspired calls to the club have confirmed that the stewards and populace of Nottingham have generously neglected to hand in said shirt. Evidently they are aware of my revulsion and are kindly shielding me from the embarrassment of wearing it.
Cheers.
Ratings
Camp – 6 – not his strongest performance, despite almost denying the second goal with his initial block. It’s easy to defend him because he spent most of the game roasting his defence. With Smith in goal, probably apologising, it could have been a massacre.
Gunter – 6 – reasonable if not brilliant performance from a player who is clearly a cut above his defensive colleagues.
Morgan – 6 – seemed to be caught in two minds all night. Several good challenges were nullified by his poor decision-making, and the fact that he was easily beaten in the air for the first goal.
Lynch – 6 – good in patches, poor in others. A lot of the Watford breakaways, especially in the first half, were via Cohen and Lynch’s side of the defence.
Cohen – 4 –played fairly well on Saturday but got absolutely everything wrong last night. Even simple passes failed him.
Anderson – 5.5 – one or two sharp moments, but generally he was just not involved.
McGugan – 6 – drifted in and out and relevance before being injured. With two months to sit out, he will be missed.
McKenna – 6 – the usual McKenna characteristics, but in a game where the central midfield might as well have watched from the sidelines.
Tyson – 7 – his crossing, which is usually fairly poor, was excellent for most of the game. When we stopped playing him into the channels, the chances dried up.
Earnshaw – 6 – he toiled and laboured but got nowhere. Sometimes he had to drop back to the half way line just to get a feel of the ball.
Blackstock – 6.5 – actually did a less efficient version of the job Adebola did on Saturday. But he scored.
Subs:
Majewski – 7.5 – planting himself high up the field, he was a real thorn in the side for Watford.
Adebola – 6.5 – bagged a goal and was unfortunate to be booked for his first action (winning a header).
McGoldrick – 6.5 – fairly anonymous, but created Adebola’s goal.
Saturday 15 August 2009
Welcome back...
On one hand, it’s great to have football back. On the other, I’d forgotten how anguishing a game it is for those who care for it.
I stormed from the ground in a rage today, foregoing all new season resolutions to take it all with a pinch of salt.
There was something frustratingly flat about the game. A sense of anticlimax perhaps, or just the indelible knowledge that things weren’t going our way.
On occasions like this every through-ball seems an inch off target, every flick-on seems magnetically averted from its destination and every shot seems fated for the stand.
Adebola twice swooned in front of a gaping net (the pundit sitting behind me explained why, turns out Adebola is a ‘bag of shit’), and several scything crosses across the coal face were gallingly swept away.
The most anguishing thing of all is that we were comfortably the better side. West Brom were drab; solid and organised but ultimately blunt and boring. In terms of chances, the best ones fell consistently to Forest. And the eventual winner was cheap by anybody’s standard.
It was obvious Earnshaw would miss. It was one of those games. Yes, those. And it became more obvious with every clumsy strut toward the spot. In the end he nearly picked out the corner flag.
A penalty miss at a crucial time is as debilitating as a red card. You could almost hear the air hissing from our pin-pricked bubble.
The fans lost hope and interest, the players called it quits. Five minutes of injury time proved to be more of an annoyance than an inspiration.
Still, we have something to build on. I’m not convinced we’ve found our strongest line-up yet, and I don’t think Davies believes we have for a second. We will still sign a decent defender before the window closes, and we have matched two of the sides earmarked for a top six finish.
I’d like to see the stats for Billy Davies sides that fall behind in games. His squads usually have the spirit to recover, but they are always tactically geared toward frustrating and containing for at least the first 60 minutes.
This is at least one of the reasons why our substitutes bench reads like an all star cast.
The mystery rise to prominence of Joe Garner seems as much to do with Davies dodging predictability as anything else.
Let’s hope he dodges the critics too. Another couple without victory and the legendary City Ground grumbles will begin...
Ratings:
Camp – 7 – I’d like to see the goal again before judging, but generally he was as restless and dependable as ever.
Gunter – 6.5 – generally solid and composed, and very difficult to beat on the ground. Beaten in the air once or twice.
Morgan – 7.5 – excellent game, hauling himself into blocks and staying sharp. Increasingly looks to avoided the usual 3-month ‘wearing in’ period which returns each summer.
Lynch – 6.5 – surprisingly solid defensively, poor distribution.
Cohen – 7 – some of his crossing was poor, but generally I thought he adapted well. Fairly solid at the back and picked out a few good passes coming forward.
Anderson – 7 – busy and hard-working, but not as influential as he would have liked.
McKenna – 7.5 – simple football, do or die tackling.
Majewski – 6.5 – I like him. He has some nice touches and excellent movement. At the moment he just isn’t getting involved enough.
Garner – 6.5 – I’m not convinced by Garner in this floating role, but he gave the usual masterclass in bad attitude football and worked hard to stay involved.
Tyson – 7.5 – final ball was sometimes poor, but his bursts of speed on the wing were our only outlet for some time. We’ll be seeing a lot more of him in this role this season.
Adebola – 6 – actually played fairly well in providing a target and winning physical battles. But there’s no excuse for any number nine to miss two chances like those.
Subs:
McGugan – 7
Earnshaw - 6
Blackstock - 7
I stormed from the ground in a rage today, foregoing all new season resolutions to take it all with a pinch of salt.
There was something frustratingly flat about the game. A sense of anticlimax perhaps, or just the indelible knowledge that things weren’t going our way.
On occasions like this every through-ball seems an inch off target, every flick-on seems magnetically averted from its destination and every shot seems fated for the stand.
Adebola twice swooned in front of a gaping net (the pundit sitting behind me explained why, turns out Adebola is a ‘bag of shit’), and several scything crosses across the coal face were gallingly swept away.
The most anguishing thing of all is that we were comfortably the better side. West Brom were drab; solid and organised but ultimately blunt and boring. In terms of chances, the best ones fell consistently to Forest. And the eventual winner was cheap by anybody’s standard.
It was obvious Earnshaw would miss. It was one of those games. Yes, those. And it became more obvious with every clumsy strut toward the spot. In the end he nearly picked out the corner flag.
A penalty miss at a crucial time is as debilitating as a red card. You could almost hear the air hissing from our pin-pricked bubble.
The fans lost hope and interest, the players called it quits. Five minutes of injury time proved to be more of an annoyance than an inspiration.
Still, we have something to build on. I’m not convinced we’ve found our strongest line-up yet, and I don’t think Davies believes we have for a second. We will still sign a decent defender before the window closes, and we have matched two of the sides earmarked for a top six finish.
I’d like to see the stats for Billy Davies sides that fall behind in games. His squads usually have the spirit to recover, but they are always tactically geared toward frustrating and containing for at least the first 60 minutes.
This is at least one of the reasons why our substitutes bench reads like an all star cast.
The mystery rise to prominence of Joe Garner seems as much to do with Davies dodging predictability as anything else.
Let’s hope he dodges the critics too. Another couple without victory and the legendary City Ground grumbles will begin...
Ratings:
Camp – 7 – I’d like to see the goal again before judging, but generally he was as restless and dependable as ever.
Gunter – 6.5 – generally solid and composed, and very difficult to beat on the ground. Beaten in the air once or twice.
Morgan – 7.5 – excellent game, hauling himself into blocks and staying sharp. Increasingly looks to avoided the usual 3-month ‘wearing in’ period which returns each summer.
Lynch – 6.5 – surprisingly solid defensively, poor distribution.
Cohen – 7 – some of his crossing was poor, but generally I thought he adapted well. Fairly solid at the back and picked out a few good passes coming forward.
Anderson – 7 – busy and hard-working, but not as influential as he would have liked.
McKenna – 7.5 – simple football, do or die tackling.
Majewski – 6.5 – I like him. He has some nice touches and excellent movement. At the moment he just isn’t getting involved enough.
Garner – 6.5 – I’m not convinced by Garner in this floating role, but he gave the usual masterclass in bad attitude football and worked hard to stay involved.
Tyson – 7.5 – final ball was sometimes poor, but his bursts of speed on the wing were our only outlet for some time. We’ll be seeing a lot more of him in this role this season.
Adebola – 6 – actually played fairly well in providing a target and winning physical battles. But there’s no excuse for any number nine to miss two chances like those.
Subs:
McGugan – 7
Earnshaw - 6
Blackstock - 7
Sunday 9 August 2009
COSMO
Reading is a fairly dour place to visit. The closest fans get to sampling the character of the area is by riding the buses to and from the car park – which I didn’t.
The ground is the archetypal flat-packed number, constructed in 34 minutes by a bald man with a toolbox and positioned on a hill in the middle of a motorway.
Its inhabitants are a queer sort too. Some are abrasively cosmopolitan, riding their bikes to the stadium and ‘taking calls’ mid-game. Others fancy themselves as cockney mobsters.
All of them are boring.
What made the day enjoyable was the vast army of travelling supporters; an ocean of red and white flooding the visitors end. This was one of those occasions where everybody, young and old, fat and thin, stands to sing in unison – generating the kind of volume that makes home fans screw up their faces in embittered respect.
Robert Earnshaw was given such a boisterous welcome I’m surprised Federici in the Reading goal wasn’t partially deafened.
After several months of idling in shopping centres and pretending to enjoy cricket – this was bloody good fun.
And the game? A solid but never outstanding start to the season, and a performance that laid bare a fundamental weakness that’s no secret to anybody – our defence.
Reading are a tight unit with lofty ambitions. Earning a point in their back yard is a satisfactory opener, but they had the lion’s share of the chances.
Gunter and Morgan were solid, but Lynch and Chambers - grimace-worthy names at the best of times – were responsible for persistent backside-clenching in the away end.
Both held their own in the air, but Reading’s forwards regularly left them sprawling with fairly tame advances.
Elsewhere we were competent, despite an eyebrow-raising team selection that left our bench looking stronger than it has for a decade or more - arguably as strong as the starting eleven.
We were set up to contain and niggle, clearing our throats for impact players to steal points from the bench late on. It nearly worked.
We rode our luck, allowing the home side too close for comfort several times. But Earnshaw was only denied a late winner by a remarkable right-place-right-time save by Federici.
It isn’t champagne stuff, but this is the Davies way. And it’ll do for me.
Camp – 7 – solid, mouthy, and always on hand to gobble up crosses – even if he has to have a bit of a juggle first. Camp is a great all-rounder, and the couple of gaffes he’ll make per season will be more than compensated by his general excellence.
Gunter – 7 – dependable at the back with several excellent last-ditch tackles, eager to get forward, and extremely hard-working for a young player whose ego has been consistently massaged for several years.
Morgan – 7 – usually starts the season with two months of overweight lumbering, but this was a tough performance.
Chambers – 5.5 – not a calamitous display and he was solid in patches. But he was stupidly red-carded and never looked far from an error. He is beaten too easily when the ball is at an opponent’s feet.
Lynch – 5.5 – as ever, he was a lot more dependable in the final third than in his defending.
McKenna – 8 – throws himself into wild challenges without fear or apprehension, breaks up attacks and distributes sensibly. He’s what Sammy Clingan should have been but never was. I hope this is what he’s always like.
Majewski – 7 – I liked him a lot, despite wondering off the radar once or twice. When he is involved he buzzes incessantly between the strikers and the midfield, eager for possession, eager for a sight at goal. He always looked agonisingly close playing a remarkable pass or through ball, only to be a couple of inches out. He’ll be very useful, I’m sure – although he was lucky not to be sent off.
Cohen – 6 – he’s never quite at home on the left, and his usually indefatigable engine seemed rather subdued. Injury interrupted his pre-season, he will be fine.
Garner – 6.5 – a dismal first half in which he looked as confused as the rest of us to be on the right wing. Perked up in the second 45 with a gutsy display, no doubt inspired by Davies was screaming into his ear from a yard away.
McGoldrick – 6.5 – some nice touches and decent movement. He’s a good footballer, but will he and his counterparts be happy about the timeshare agreement awaiting them?
Adebola – 7 – played a vital role in bruising his way to flick-ons and making something from very little when we had to clear our lines quickly. We’d have lost without him.
Subs:
Earnshaw – 7
Tyson – 6
McCleary – 6
The ground is the archetypal flat-packed number, constructed in 34 minutes by a bald man with a toolbox and positioned on a hill in the middle of a motorway.
Its inhabitants are a queer sort too. Some are abrasively cosmopolitan, riding their bikes to the stadium and ‘taking calls’ mid-game. Others fancy themselves as cockney mobsters.
All of them are boring.
What made the day enjoyable was the vast army of travelling supporters; an ocean of red and white flooding the visitors end. This was one of those occasions where everybody, young and old, fat and thin, stands to sing in unison – generating the kind of volume that makes home fans screw up their faces in embittered respect.
Robert Earnshaw was given such a boisterous welcome I’m surprised Federici in the Reading goal wasn’t partially deafened.
After several months of idling in shopping centres and pretending to enjoy cricket – this was bloody good fun.
And the game? A solid but never outstanding start to the season, and a performance that laid bare a fundamental weakness that’s no secret to anybody – our defence.
Reading are a tight unit with lofty ambitions. Earning a point in their back yard is a satisfactory opener, but they had the lion’s share of the chances.
Gunter and Morgan were solid, but Lynch and Chambers - grimace-worthy names at the best of times – were responsible for persistent backside-clenching in the away end.
Both held their own in the air, but Reading’s forwards regularly left them sprawling with fairly tame advances.
Elsewhere we were competent, despite an eyebrow-raising team selection that left our bench looking stronger than it has for a decade or more - arguably as strong as the starting eleven.
We were set up to contain and niggle, clearing our throats for impact players to steal points from the bench late on. It nearly worked.
We rode our luck, allowing the home side too close for comfort several times. But Earnshaw was only denied a late winner by a remarkable right-place-right-time save by Federici.
It isn’t champagne stuff, but this is the Davies way. And it’ll do for me.
Camp – 7 – solid, mouthy, and always on hand to gobble up crosses – even if he has to have a bit of a juggle first. Camp is a great all-rounder, and the couple of gaffes he’ll make per season will be more than compensated by his general excellence.
Gunter – 7 – dependable at the back with several excellent last-ditch tackles, eager to get forward, and extremely hard-working for a young player whose ego has been consistently massaged for several years.
Morgan – 7 – usually starts the season with two months of overweight lumbering, but this was a tough performance.
Chambers – 5.5 – not a calamitous display and he was solid in patches. But he was stupidly red-carded and never looked far from an error. He is beaten too easily when the ball is at an opponent’s feet.
Lynch – 5.5 – as ever, he was a lot more dependable in the final third than in his defending.
McKenna – 8 – throws himself into wild challenges without fear or apprehension, breaks up attacks and distributes sensibly. He’s what Sammy Clingan should have been but never was. I hope this is what he’s always like.
Majewski – 7 – I liked him a lot, despite wondering off the radar once or twice. When he is involved he buzzes incessantly between the strikers and the midfield, eager for possession, eager for a sight at goal. He always looked agonisingly close playing a remarkable pass or through ball, only to be a couple of inches out. He’ll be very useful, I’m sure – although he was lucky not to be sent off.
Cohen – 6 – he’s never quite at home on the left, and his usually indefatigable engine seemed rather subdued. Injury interrupted his pre-season, he will be fine.
Garner – 6.5 – a dismal first half in which he looked as confused as the rest of us to be on the right wing. Perked up in the second 45 with a gutsy display, no doubt inspired by Davies was screaming into his ear from a yard away.
McGoldrick – 6.5 – some nice touches and decent movement. He’s a good footballer, but will he and his counterparts be happy about the timeshare agreement awaiting them?
Adebola – 7 – played a vital role in bruising his way to flick-ons and making something from very little when we had to clear our lines quickly. We’d have lost without him.
Subs:
Earnshaw – 7
Tyson – 6
McCleary – 6
Wednesday 22 July 2009
Is Doughty Worried about County?
On a typical Saturday at Meadow Lane less than a quarter of the stadium is in use. Meagre gatherings of 4,000 gawp and grumble as former Forest bit-parts and football league journeymen stage laborious tussles.
With the smattering of stooped elderly men and planes of empty seats it has an unfortunate feel of non-league. And, until the arrival of Munto Finance, that’s where County were heading.
The latest Middle Eastern invasion was cordially dismissed to begin with. Sky Sports News stretched to an afternoon mention and the local press were happy to regurgitate the soundbites.
But a £50,000 bid for Jack Lester wasn’t quite enough to push Manchester City’s £25m surge for Adebayor off the back pages.
Then came Sven.
All of a sudden everybody in the country has a curious eye on Notts County. And Forest fans are raising a cautionary eyebrow too.
After all, the new men at Notts are talking about a club for the community, about foreign links, about a true Nottingham rivalry. And if they’re prepared to open their wallets for Sven, they might just be serious after all.
Let’s face it, Eriksson won’t be spending an awful lot of time inside the solemn red-bricked walls of Meadow Lane. But even for his fleeting assistance he is likely to be taking well over a million a year.
Why else would he bother?
Mexico forked out £2m to get rid of him, Thai maniac Shinawatra paid him £2.5m for a year in charge at Manchester City, his England salary was £4.5m and his compensation for leaving the job cost the FA another £4m lump sum.
Sven doesn’t do projects. He does money.
With Forest again outspending every single club in the Championship, and assembling a City-style arsenal of strikers, I suppose we have to wonder whether or not Nigel Doughty is a little flustered about the notion of a thriving Notts County.
His plans for a flat-packed 50,000 seat commercial bowl do not make room for a big-spending city rival skimming its share of the next generation.
Notts have a long way to go before they repeat the stratospheric rise of similarly-subsidised Hoffenheim in Germany. For starters, cranky old Charlie and co will probably have to be paid off before the ball really starts rolling. But this week’s statement of intent is food for thought, nonetheless.
Whether Doughty’s sudden urge to spend was inspired by Billy’s impassioned demands or indeed the arrival of money to Meadow Lane, we’ll never really know.
Either way, I'm not complaining.
Friday 17 July 2009
Strange Times at NG2
Whatever happened to Nottingham Forest?
Don’t worry, read on, it’s not another inquest into the Great Decline of the 90s (or the Greater one of the 2000s, for that matter).
I’m talking about summer 2009 – the preseason that’s rewriting the rulebook, and probably preparing us for eternal disappointment hereafter.
It’s been the summer of action; of rumours with substance, of Evening Post promises that materialise, of deals being completed without the Ebay-style bidding policy of working from ‘derisory’ upwards.
The summer of gratification for the daydreaming legion whose cursors twitch around ‘Refresh’ from the moment a ‘source’ spots Neil Danns in Greggs.
It’s not very Forest, is it? But then neither was the armchair ending to the torturous season before us; months of nail-shearing ending in a dozy evening with Sky Sports.
And neither is the signing of players like Dele Adebola and Paul McKenna who are neither young nor born in Nottingham.
And am I right in recalling that the season ticket prices were published before June 30?
Something isn’t right.
I’m not sure I’m comfortable without being able to indulge in metaphors about doom and the apocalypse, and the forums don’t look right without threads like: “WHERE THE F**K ARE THE SIGNINGS FOREST YOU CUN...”
So what does it all mean? As a supporter group we are manically depressed and those who sobbed a bucket as Rob Jones signed for Scunthorpe are now predicting a Champions League spot.
The sensible conclusion has to be somewhere in the between.
We’ve made a string of solid signings, ranging from satisfactory to sensational, and the squad is taking shape.
Even stripped to its bare bones the squad looked meatier with Davies’ calculated ringing through it. Now it looks strong in its own right, and with another couple of additions it will be the strongest side we’ve had for a very long time.
We’ve added real men to the team. While Calderwood’s fancy was for the scrawny and etiolated, Davies has added meat to the bones with Adebola and McGoldrick – a burly centre-half will surely follow.
And we’ve taken a forward stride in targeting young talents who have already proven themselves at the right level.
But we have to be cautious. None of the players we’ve signed are world-beaters (at least not yet) and few have the Premiership strut that carries sides like Wolves into the big time. Those expecting a siege for the automatic places will probably be disappointed.
For the time being we have to be satisfied that we finally have a manager we can believe in - and a chairman who knows he has a manager to believe in.
This might not be our time, but all the signs are that our time is not too far away...
Final Thought: What on earth will compulsive-attendee Ebby do when Forest kick off two different games at 3pm tomorrow? His head may well explode.
Don’t worry, read on, it’s not another inquest into the Great Decline of the 90s (or the Greater one of the 2000s, for that matter).
I’m talking about summer 2009 – the preseason that’s rewriting the rulebook, and probably preparing us for eternal disappointment hereafter.
It’s been the summer of action; of rumours with substance, of Evening Post promises that materialise, of deals being completed without the Ebay-style bidding policy of working from ‘derisory’ upwards.
The summer of gratification for the daydreaming legion whose cursors twitch around ‘Refresh’ from the moment a ‘source’ spots Neil Danns in Greggs.
It’s not very Forest, is it? But then neither was the armchair ending to the torturous season before us; months of nail-shearing ending in a dozy evening with Sky Sports.
And neither is the signing of players like Dele Adebola and Paul McKenna who are neither young nor born in Nottingham.
And am I right in recalling that the season ticket prices were published before June 30?
Something isn’t right.
I’m not sure I’m comfortable without being able to indulge in metaphors about doom and the apocalypse, and the forums don’t look right without threads like: “WHERE THE F**K ARE THE SIGNINGS FOREST YOU CUN...”
So what does it all mean? As a supporter group we are manically depressed and those who sobbed a bucket as Rob Jones signed for Scunthorpe are now predicting a Champions League spot.
The sensible conclusion has to be somewhere in the between.
We’ve made a string of solid signings, ranging from satisfactory to sensational, and the squad is taking shape.
Even stripped to its bare bones the squad looked meatier with Davies’ calculated ringing through it. Now it looks strong in its own right, and with another couple of additions it will be the strongest side we’ve had for a very long time.
We’ve added real men to the team. While Calderwood’s fancy was for the scrawny and etiolated, Davies has added meat to the bones with Adebola and McGoldrick – a burly centre-half will surely follow.
And we’ve taken a forward stride in targeting young talents who have already proven themselves at the right level.
But we have to be cautious. None of the players we’ve signed are world-beaters (at least not yet) and few have the Premiership strut that carries sides like Wolves into the big time. Those expecting a siege for the automatic places will probably be disappointed.
For the time being we have to be satisfied that we finally have a manager we can believe in - and a chairman who knows he has a manager to believe in.
This might not be our time, but all the signs are that our time is not too far away...
Final Thought: What on earth will compulsive-attendee Ebby do when Forest kick off two different games at 3pm tomorrow? His head may well explode.
Saturday 25 April 2009
Nearly there...
Forest never do things the easy way, do they? We should have been raising a glass to safety this evening, but instead we’ll be supping up with one cautious eye on the league table.
It’s been a remarkable turnaround, and for a few weeks almost everything has gone our way. But there remains a chance of a final day disaster, at least until Monday evening.
We played fairly badly this afternoon; trapped somewhere between complacency and incompetence. But we did enough.
Blackpool were determined to throw down the anchor on 2008/09 and they didn’t let us have our own way. Davies set out for a sensible point.
Forest took the lead on the back of a polished move and another excellent Lynch cross. The subsequent 15 minutes saw a run of opportunities to double the lead.
The home side were nothing special, but they were scrappy enough and ugly enough to keep the game on a leash.
They had enough about them to cash in on a leaky back five system which lacked anything of the discipline shown at Sheffield United. The equaliser came after Chambers dived in on the half-way line and his colleagues failed to recover.
Garner’s automated toppling strategy gave us 20 minutes of hope, but Blackpool were in no mood to take their own battle to the final day and they were boisterous in every tackle.
Chris Cohen’s free kick was tipped over (perhaps his first ever passable set piece), Earnshaw came close with a net-whistling strike that had some Forest fans celebrating, and James Perch missed the target with a free header.
In stoppage time McGugan had a customary scolding from Earnshaw after drilling a poor shot into the keeper’s arms instead of passing.
But Forest fans filed out in fairly high spirits, dwelling on the usual doomsday scenarios and mathematical strategies that dominate conversation at this time of year.
A few over-excited simpletons playing up for the ITV cameras were a little more sure of our fortunes than I am, but we’re very nearly there.
As we suspected, a win against relegated Southampton – who will have no incentive beyond pride – will keep us up, and probably reshape the entire future of the football club.
I celebrated the Burnley and Wolves equalisers as though they were our own, and I’ll reserve equal passion for a Reading victory on Monday. I just hope we’re not being buttered up before an almighty fall.
The Blackpool fans were happier this afternoon, but the joke’s on them. Their back garden continues to be a cesspit of vomiting Glaswegians and fat orange slappers in costume.
For the record, if the game had kicked off at 3pm I wouldn’t have made it today. The M6 Northbound was stationary for 15 miles on the way back home. The chaos has swallowed up several thousand Manchester United fans on their way to Old Trafford. And as of 5pm a Villa fan I know was stuck at J16 (Stoke) where he’d been since 1 o’clock. The Villa team coach passed him on its way back to Brum...
Ratings
Smith – 6 – excellent save from a late free-kick, but the same old story.
Gunter – 6 – not as comfortable in the advanced role.
Chambers – 6 – not a horror show by any means, but one or two shaky moments spoiled the performance.
Morgan – 6.5 – not as solid with the weight of the entire team on his shoulders.
Breckin – 6 – not mobile enough, but just about coped.
Lynch – 7 – incisive ball for Blackstock’s goal. A reasonable defensive performance.
Osbourne – 7- another solid performance.
Perch – 7 – good tackling back, but couldn’t bridge the gap between defence and attack.
Cohen – 6 – a poor game by his own high standards, compounded by typically poor set pieces (one free kick aside). He’s overdue that summer holiday.
Garner – 7 – scrappy, and his gumption saw them reduced to ten men. Would he have scored if he’d stayed on his feet? I don’t think so.
Blackstock – 7 – a handful all afternoon, and a vital goal.
Subs
McCleary – 7 – not suited to the ploughed playing surface, but he caused problems.
Earnshaw – 6 – only one real chance.
McGugan – 6 – too late for an impact.
It’s been a remarkable turnaround, and for a few weeks almost everything has gone our way. But there remains a chance of a final day disaster, at least until Monday evening.
We played fairly badly this afternoon; trapped somewhere between complacency and incompetence. But we did enough.
Blackpool were determined to throw down the anchor on 2008/09 and they didn’t let us have our own way. Davies set out for a sensible point.
Forest took the lead on the back of a polished move and another excellent Lynch cross. The subsequent 15 minutes saw a run of opportunities to double the lead.
The home side were nothing special, but they were scrappy enough and ugly enough to keep the game on a leash.
They had enough about them to cash in on a leaky back five system which lacked anything of the discipline shown at Sheffield United. The equaliser came after Chambers dived in on the half-way line and his colleagues failed to recover.
Garner’s automated toppling strategy gave us 20 minutes of hope, but Blackpool were in no mood to take their own battle to the final day and they were boisterous in every tackle.
Chris Cohen’s free kick was tipped over (perhaps his first ever passable set piece), Earnshaw came close with a net-whistling strike that had some Forest fans celebrating, and James Perch missed the target with a free header.
In stoppage time McGugan had a customary scolding from Earnshaw after drilling a poor shot into the keeper’s arms instead of passing.
But Forest fans filed out in fairly high spirits, dwelling on the usual doomsday scenarios and mathematical strategies that dominate conversation at this time of year.
A few over-excited simpletons playing up for the ITV cameras were a little more sure of our fortunes than I am, but we’re very nearly there.
As we suspected, a win against relegated Southampton – who will have no incentive beyond pride – will keep us up, and probably reshape the entire future of the football club.
I celebrated the Burnley and Wolves equalisers as though they were our own, and I’ll reserve equal passion for a Reading victory on Monday. I just hope we’re not being buttered up before an almighty fall.
The Blackpool fans were happier this afternoon, but the joke’s on them. Their back garden continues to be a cesspit of vomiting Glaswegians and fat orange slappers in costume.
For the record, if the game had kicked off at 3pm I wouldn’t have made it today. The M6 Northbound was stationary for 15 miles on the way back home. The chaos has swallowed up several thousand Manchester United fans on their way to Old Trafford. And as of 5pm a Villa fan I know was stuck at J16 (Stoke) where he’d been since 1 o’clock. The Villa team coach passed him on its way back to Brum...
Ratings
Smith – 6 – excellent save from a late free-kick, but the same old story.
Gunter – 6 – not as comfortable in the advanced role.
Chambers – 6 – not a horror show by any means, but one or two shaky moments spoiled the performance.
Morgan – 6.5 – not as solid with the weight of the entire team on his shoulders.
Breckin – 6 – not mobile enough, but just about coped.
Lynch – 7 – incisive ball for Blackstock’s goal. A reasonable defensive performance.
Osbourne – 7- another solid performance.
Perch – 7 – good tackling back, but couldn’t bridge the gap between defence and attack.
Cohen – 6 – a poor game by his own high standards, compounded by typically poor set pieces (one free kick aside). He’s overdue that summer holiday.
Garner – 7 – scrappy, and his gumption saw them reduced to ten men. Would he have scored if he’d stayed on his feet? I don’t think so.
Blackstock – 7 – a handful all afternoon, and a vital goal.
Subs
McCleary – 7 – not suited to the ploughed playing surface, but he caused problems.
Earnshaw – 6 – only one real chance.
McGugan – 6 – too late for an impact.
Monday 13 April 2009
Exhausting
Easter weekend is supposed to be a holiday, but it has been a lot more exhausting than a couple of days at work.
Over the course of one weekend we have stared down the barrel of a gun, lifted a city to its feet in ecstasy, and stood firm against the odds to keep hopes alive. And we’ve done it all in about the hardest possible way.
Saturday was chaos. With 80 minutes played we were running out ideas, and the clock was speeding by with our Championship status affixed.
On 85 minutes we were convincing ourselves that a point kept the door open just wide enough for us to slip through.
After 95 minutes we were in rapture, and it took another 95 minutes to heave another priceless point away from South Yorkshire this afternoon.
This weekend has restored ailing faith, and it has uncovered crucial evidence that our side has the bottle and the resilience needed to stave off catastrophe.
We were a weaker, meeker, friendlier side earlier in the season. There is no doubt in my mind that a spirited Sheffield United side, ears ringing from the yearning roar of a packed Bramall Lane, would have beaten us before Davies arrived.
-
Today we had to be ugly, cynical and – at times – flagrantly fraudulent.
Every substitute disappeared to the far wing, every throw-in took an age, every loose ball was rolled into no man’s land at the sound of the referee’s whistle. And more importantly than any of that, every single player had to stand tall and do the work of several.
Wilson was the only man to let Nottingham Forest down this afternoon, and he owes the club a substantial debt.
Forest had started the game brightly and were covering a lot of ground to keep United quiet; it was an encouraging fifteen minutes.
And then came Wilson’s moment of sheer absurdity. United won a disputable free kick and Greg Halford made off with the ball under his arm. Wilson tried to retrieve it, and after a few words in anger he dropped his forehead on to Halford’s – three yards away from the referee.
It was more of a head-shove than a headbutt, and it didn’t warrant the theatrical collapse. But it was a clear and obvious red card, and I’d expect any footballer in 2009 to do exactly what Halford did.
What followed was virtually an entire game of frayed nerves and heart-stoppers.
If the game was played back now, United would probably look fairly ordinary – a strong side having an off day, and feeling the effects of a long run of success.
But during the game they seemed likely to score from every single attack. They seemed to have a hundred corners and a thousand crosses allowed into the box.
Our defending was desperate, tireless and admirable. From the moment Wilson was sent off they set up like a brick wall and threw themselves in front of every stray ball.
In midfield it was a triumph for substance over style. Cohen and Osbourne covered a lot of ground and tried to plot an escape route into United’s half, Perch was fearless.
Davies ran the show from the touchline. He took every free header and stray ball as a personal insult and made astute changes at crucial times. Very occasionally he would hide at the back of the dugout, waiting to explode if the seemingly inevitable United goal came.
Billy hasn’t given up yet, by any means. His venomous, rumbustious spirit and self belief could be what drags us over the finishing line with our necks spared.
It is going to be incredibly tight. I feel nauseous just browsing the fixture list.
Next weekend sees Barnsley travel to a despondent Reading, while Norwich take on rivals Ipswich, who are wobbling in the face of mid-table obscurity.
Three points against Coventry, who have nothing to play for, is vital. Beyond that we will probably need to take something from Blackpool, and beat Southampton (who might not be down by then, after all).
It is an awful lot to ask, but with the bottle and resilience of this afternoon, it can be done. And what a difference it would make to the future of Nottingham Forest.
Over the course of one weekend we have stared down the barrel of a gun, lifted a city to its feet in ecstasy, and stood firm against the odds to keep hopes alive. And we’ve done it all in about the hardest possible way.
Saturday was chaos. With 80 minutes played we were running out ideas, and the clock was speeding by with our Championship status affixed.
On 85 minutes we were convincing ourselves that a point kept the door open just wide enough for us to slip through.
After 95 minutes we were in rapture, and it took another 95 minutes to heave another priceless point away from South Yorkshire this afternoon.
This weekend has restored ailing faith, and it has uncovered crucial evidence that our side has the bottle and the resilience needed to stave off catastrophe.
We were a weaker, meeker, friendlier side earlier in the season. There is no doubt in my mind that a spirited Sheffield United side, ears ringing from the yearning roar of a packed Bramall Lane, would have beaten us before Davies arrived.
-
Today we had to be ugly, cynical and – at times – flagrantly fraudulent.
Every substitute disappeared to the far wing, every throw-in took an age, every loose ball was rolled into no man’s land at the sound of the referee’s whistle. And more importantly than any of that, every single player had to stand tall and do the work of several.
Wilson was the only man to let Nottingham Forest down this afternoon, and he owes the club a substantial debt.
Forest had started the game brightly and were covering a lot of ground to keep United quiet; it was an encouraging fifteen minutes.
And then came Wilson’s moment of sheer absurdity. United won a disputable free kick and Greg Halford made off with the ball under his arm. Wilson tried to retrieve it, and after a few words in anger he dropped his forehead on to Halford’s – three yards away from the referee.
It was more of a head-shove than a headbutt, and it didn’t warrant the theatrical collapse. But it was a clear and obvious red card, and I’d expect any footballer in 2009 to do exactly what Halford did.
What followed was virtually an entire game of frayed nerves and heart-stoppers.
If the game was played back now, United would probably look fairly ordinary – a strong side having an off day, and feeling the effects of a long run of success.
But during the game they seemed likely to score from every single attack. They seemed to have a hundred corners and a thousand crosses allowed into the box.
Our defending was desperate, tireless and admirable. From the moment Wilson was sent off they set up like a brick wall and threw themselves in front of every stray ball.
In midfield it was a triumph for substance over style. Cohen and Osbourne covered a lot of ground and tried to plot an escape route into United’s half, Perch was fearless.
Davies ran the show from the touchline. He took every free header and stray ball as a personal insult and made astute changes at crucial times. Very occasionally he would hide at the back of the dugout, waiting to explode if the seemingly inevitable United goal came.
Billy hasn’t given up yet, by any means. His venomous, rumbustious spirit and self belief could be what drags us over the finishing line with our necks spared.
It is going to be incredibly tight. I feel nauseous just browsing the fixture list.
Next weekend sees Barnsley travel to a despondent Reading, while Norwich take on rivals Ipswich, who are wobbling in the face of mid-table obscurity.
Three points against Coventry, who have nothing to play for, is vital. Beyond that we will probably need to take something from Blackpool, and beat Southampton (who might not be down by then, after all).
It is an awful lot to ask, but with the bottle and resilience of this afternoon, it can be done. And what a difference it would make to the future of Nottingham Forest.
Ratings Vs Sheffield United [A]
Smith – 8 – several excellent saves and a lot more challenging for crosses. His distribution let down his performance, giving United the ball far too easily with meandering balls to nobody. Davies almost choked with fury about it at one stage, even turning to berate the goalkeeping coach.
Gunter – 8 – his quality showed today, in sporadic bursts forward and some tough defending.
Chambers – 8 – a lot tougher, and a lot more composed, than we have come to expect.
Breckin – 8 – we needed his experience and composure.
Morgan – 8 – tough, forceful and bold. Never once buckled under the pressure.
Wilson - / - nonsensical stupidity. Slap him with the maximum fine.
Cohen – 8.5 – spirit wise, he’s probably the best player in the country to have in a battle like this.
Osbourne - 8 – outstanding, again.
Perch – 7.5 – gave a lot to the cause this afternoon, but he gave the ball away a few times – triggering panic.
Blackstock - 7 – not the work rate I’d have liked, but that’s not his style. He was a useful target for a midfield that had no objective beyond finishing the game.
Garner – 7 – did everything he could in difficult circumstances.
McCleary - 7 -
McGugan - 7 -
Anderson - 7 -
Gunter – 8 – his quality showed today, in sporadic bursts forward and some tough defending.
Chambers – 8 – a lot tougher, and a lot more composed, than we have come to expect.
Breckin – 8 – we needed his experience and composure.
Morgan – 8 – tough, forceful and bold. Never once buckled under the pressure.
Wilson - / - nonsensical stupidity. Slap him with the maximum fine.
Cohen – 8.5 – spirit wise, he’s probably the best player in the country to have in a battle like this.
Osbourne - 8 – outstanding, again.
Perch – 7.5 – gave a lot to the cause this afternoon, but he gave the ball away a few times – triggering panic.
Blackstock - 7 – not the work rate I’d have liked, but that’s not his style. He was a useful target for a midfield that had no objective beyond finishing the game.
Garner – 7 – did everything he could in difficult circumstances.
McCleary - 7 -
McGugan - 7 -
Anderson - 7 -
Saturday 4 April 2009
Purgatory
At full time, 3,500 gave a defiant chorus of ‘Forest til I die’. It was a valiant and heartfelt gesture, but it felt almost like a cue for the death knoll.
This could be the point that saves Forest, but it could just as easily be the missing two that cost the club its place in the Championship.
I think Forest deserved a win, and if this game proves pivotal it will be galling for reasons far beyond our misfortune. I have never been so convinced that a referee was making decisions on the basis of a grudge.
Sometimes referees make dubious calls and their competence is questioned, but some of the decisions this afternoon were not incompetent – they were frankly inexplicable.
Any 50-50 decisions that could have gone Barnsley’s way did so without consideration, and the referee turned a blind eye to some outrageous cynicism.
At one stage Osbourne was hauled down with the graceless indecency of a rugby tackle, not more than 5 yards from the referee. He didn’t spot it.
He awarded a corner for a shot that evaded Turner’s sprawling palm by two yards. His eyes glazed over as five or six horribly late challenges left Forest men in an anguished heap. He remarkably ignored the moment when a Barnsley man kicked Cohen in the shins, studs blazing. The assistant, idling less than a metre away, buckled to stage fright too.
It wasn’t our day. Every spare ball, every rebound, and every ricochet seemed to squirm into the path of a Barnsley player. But this was a spirited and workmanlike display from Forest and we were never too far away from the finished product.
The first half was played out in Barnsley’s half. Their breakaways were a problem because our defence, as ever, was frenzied. But until the last 5 minutes it was a comfortable half for us, we were steadily but surely working toward a lead.
When Barnsley imposed themselves at the end of the half our defending was panic-stricken and timorous. There was too much apprehension about the consequences of falling behind, and it’s something that could cost us in the remaining games.
Barnsley’s goal was revolting. My view was poor but it seemed to be a clash of poor defending and questionable goalkeeping. It was characterised by the goading, slurring, snarling Yorkshiremen bursting blood vessels to rub salt into Forest wounds.
It’s always the same in Yorkshire. The natives are more concerned about the visitors’ having a miserable time than they are about their own club's success.
Most of them had only bothered limping down from their back-to-backs because of the discounted ticket prices. Their typically obnoxious celebrations made the subsequent penalty miss and equaliser a lot more satisfying.
The mood lifted tremendously after Turner’s save from an atrocious penalty. After that I was certain of an equaliser, even after Earnshaw thumped the crossbar. The travelling supporters were almost sucking the ball into the net.
Sadly we ran out of breath. Barnsley had a host of opportunities as we surged forward, and for a time it was end-to-end. It was physically exhausting to watch.
The closest we came was a ball from Garath McCleary which rolled across the goal-line with the keeper beaten. Cohen retrieved the ball, lying unattended at the corner flag, and he probably should have done better with the eventual shot.
It’s not a disaster, but we’re facing serious peril now. This is a point that keeps hopes alive, but leaves us in purgatory.
We may well need three wins from five games. I’m not sure where they will come from.
It has been refreshing to watch a Forest side with some genuinely good players in it, but I fear we may well be returning to the abyss. The likes of Earnshaw and Blackstock are unlikely to come along with us.
This could be the point that saves Forest, but it could just as easily be the missing two that cost the club its place in the Championship.
I think Forest deserved a win, and if this game proves pivotal it will be galling for reasons far beyond our misfortune. I have never been so convinced that a referee was making decisions on the basis of a grudge.
Sometimes referees make dubious calls and their competence is questioned, but some of the decisions this afternoon were not incompetent – they were frankly inexplicable.
Any 50-50 decisions that could have gone Barnsley’s way did so without consideration, and the referee turned a blind eye to some outrageous cynicism.
At one stage Osbourne was hauled down with the graceless indecency of a rugby tackle, not more than 5 yards from the referee. He didn’t spot it.
He awarded a corner for a shot that evaded Turner’s sprawling palm by two yards. His eyes glazed over as five or six horribly late challenges left Forest men in an anguished heap. He remarkably ignored the moment when a Barnsley man kicked Cohen in the shins, studs blazing. The assistant, idling less than a metre away, buckled to stage fright too.
It wasn’t our day. Every spare ball, every rebound, and every ricochet seemed to squirm into the path of a Barnsley player. But this was a spirited and workmanlike display from Forest and we were never too far away from the finished product.
The first half was played out in Barnsley’s half. Their breakaways were a problem because our defence, as ever, was frenzied. But until the last 5 minutes it was a comfortable half for us, we were steadily but surely working toward a lead.
When Barnsley imposed themselves at the end of the half our defending was panic-stricken and timorous. There was too much apprehension about the consequences of falling behind, and it’s something that could cost us in the remaining games.
Barnsley’s goal was revolting. My view was poor but it seemed to be a clash of poor defending and questionable goalkeeping. It was characterised by the goading, slurring, snarling Yorkshiremen bursting blood vessels to rub salt into Forest wounds.
It’s always the same in Yorkshire. The natives are more concerned about the visitors’ having a miserable time than they are about their own club's success.
Most of them had only bothered limping down from their back-to-backs because of the discounted ticket prices. Their typically obnoxious celebrations made the subsequent penalty miss and equaliser a lot more satisfying.
The mood lifted tremendously after Turner’s save from an atrocious penalty. After that I was certain of an equaliser, even after Earnshaw thumped the crossbar. The travelling supporters were almost sucking the ball into the net.
Sadly we ran out of breath. Barnsley had a host of opportunities as we surged forward, and for a time it was end-to-end. It was physically exhausting to watch.
The closest we came was a ball from Garath McCleary which rolled across the goal-line with the keeper beaten. Cohen retrieved the ball, lying unattended at the corner flag, and he probably should have done better with the eventual shot.
It’s not a disaster, but we’re facing serious peril now. This is a point that keeps hopes alive, but leaves us in purgatory.
We may well need three wins from five games. I’m not sure where they will come from.
It has been refreshing to watch a Forest side with some genuinely good players in it, but I fear we may well be returning to the abyss. The likes of Earnshaw and Blackstock are unlikely to come along with us.
Ratings Vs Barnsley [A]
Turner - 7 – a fairly shaky first half. Made some smart saves and excellent decisions in the second.
Gunter – 7 – solid display and some good passes.
Morgan – 7.5 – his mistake nearly cost us late in the second half, but for most of the game he was like a brick wall – throwing himself in the path of everything and everybody. A worthy captain.
Wilson – 6.5 – solid performance, one or two poor passes.
Lynch – 6.5 – solid but unremarkable. Played a great ball for Earnshaw in the second half that almost created a goal.
Cohen – 7.5 – tireless and desperate performance.
Osbourne – 7.5 – excellent display as he roved forwards and back, always found a pass.
McGugan – 7 – a decent performance from a slimmed-down Lewis, until he disappeared in the chaos of the second half.
Blackstock – 7 – the target we’ve been lacking. Not a sensational performance, but he holds the ball up and finds useful flick-ons – we don’t have anybody else capable of that.
Earnshaw – 7.5 – should have bagged a couple more really, but this was a busy and hard-working performance from the best striker we’ve had in a very long time. I think he knows he’ll be leaving if we’re relegated, and I think he’s desperate to help us avoid it.
Tyson – 6 – poor touches throughout the game and not particularly effective from the wing. Had one or two promising moments as he took players on, but it didn’t really work. There is potential in Tyson latching on to Blackstock’s flicks.
Gunter – 7 – solid display and some good passes.
Morgan – 7.5 – his mistake nearly cost us late in the second half, but for most of the game he was like a brick wall – throwing himself in the path of everything and everybody. A worthy captain.
Wilson – 6.5 – solid performance, one or two poor passes.
Lynch – 6.5 – solid but unremarkable. Played a great ball for Earnshaw in the second half that almost created a goal.
Cohen – 7.5 – tireless and desperate performance.
Osbourne – 7.5 – excellent display as he roved forwards and back, always found a pass.
McGugan – 7 – a decent performance from a slimmed-down Lewis, until he disappeared in the chaos of the second half.
Blackstock – 7 – the target we’ve been lacking. Not a sensational performance, but he holds the ball up and finds useful flick-ons – we don’t have anybody else capable of that.
Earnshaw – 7.5 – should have bagged a couple more really, but this was a busy and hard-working performance from the best striker we’ve had in a very long time. I think he knows he’ll be leaving if we’re relegated, and I think he’s desperate to help us avoid it.
Tyson – 6 – poor touches throughout the game and not particularly effective from the wing. Had one or two promising moments as he took players on, but it didn’t really work. There is potential in Tyson latching on to Blackstock’s flicks.
Sunday 22 March 2009
Deep Trouble
There was something special about today. An old foe, a big crowd, glorious sunshine – and an air of determined spirit bubbling beneath the entire afternoon.
It felt a bit like the good old days. Or at least the average old days that look so appealing when set against our current plight.
The players felt it, the supporters felt, and for long periods the game went as well as we could have hoped. And yet it all came to nothing – again.
It was a scrappy game with very few chances. Wolves played a surprisingly basic long ball game, hoping to cash in on the physical presence of Iwelumo and Ebanks-Blake.
Forest held firm, feeding occasionally on scraps, and Wolves were restricted to no more than two efforts on goal.
But just as Tyson and McCleary gave Forest fans license to dream of a cheeky winner, Wolves mustered a goal from nothing.
Their 5,000-strong support were in party mood for the final minutes as their team marches unhindered to the Premiership. Forest face an uncertain future.
At least half of our remaining games have to be wins, maybe even more. It is a lot to ask of any side.
Like most, I have spent the season waiting patiently for the predestined turnaround and peaceful mid-table run-in. But after several false starts, the run-in has arrived long before we are ready for it. Only now is the reality of our peril starting to become clear.
Star exits at basement prices, shrinking attendances, the return of the tedium, the terraces and the “you’re not famous anymore”. It could be just around the corner.
Turner – 7 – a steady performance from a goalkeeper keen to impress. His distribution was fairly average, but he immediately demonstrated that crosses and communication are no problem. This will appease the Smith critics.
Gunter -7 – a steady performance as part of a back four that looked worlds better than it did at Burnley last weekend.
Morgan – 9 – perhaps guilty of losing his man for the goal, but this was a titanic display from Forest’s outstanding player of the second half of the season.
Wilson – 8 – an efficient and industrious performance to keep a tough Wolves strikeforce quiet.
Lynch – 7 – continues to look a lot more settled in his role under Davies.
McGugan – 6 – not the battling performance that Davies’ rant might have inspired.
Cohen – 7 – played out of his skin and never shirked a challenge. This kind of metal was essential if Forest were to get a result today, and Cohen will be as disappointed as anybody that his efforts were not rewarded.
Perch – 6.5 – stood tall and threw himself into some vital challenges. We missed Osbourne or Moussi’s creative input in this role.
Earnshaw – 7 – worked extremely hard but had very little to work with. Earnshaw is desperate to avoid the drop.
McSheffrey – 6.5 – flashes of excellence, again, but struggled to sustain the quality against a strong Wolves side.
Anderson – 6.5 – looked a little bit lightweight at times, but his poise on the break continues to be a major asset.
Subs:
McCleary -6
Tyson -6
Garner-6
It felt a bit like the good old days. Or at least the average old days that look so appealing when set against our current plight.
The players felt it, the supporters felt, and for long periods the game went as well as we could have hoped. And yet it all came to nothing – again.
It was a scrappy game with very few chances. Wolves played a surprisingly basic long ball game, hoping to cash in on the physical presence of Iwelumo and Ebanks-Blake.
Forest held firm, feeding occasionally on scraps, and Wolves were restricted to no more than two efforts on goal.
But just as Tyson and McCleary gave Forest fans license to dream of a cheeky winner, Wolves mustered a goal from nothing.
Their 5,000-strong support were in party mood for the final minutes as their team marches unhindered to the Premiership. Forest face an uncertain future.
At least half of our remaining games have to be wins, maybe even more. It is a lot to ask of any side.
Like most, I have spent the season waiting patiently for the predestined turnaround and peaceful mid-table run-in. But after several false starts, the run-in has arrived long before we are ready for it. Only now is the reality of our peril starting to become clear.
Star exits at basement prices, shrinking attendances, the return of the tedium, the terraces and the “you’re not famous anymore”. It could be just around the corner.
Turner – 7 – a steady performance from a goalkeeper keen to impress. His distribution was fairly average, but he immediately demonstrated that crosses and communication are no problem. This will appease the Smith critics.
Gunter -7 – a steady performance as part of a back four that looked worlds better than it did at Burnley last weekend.
Morgan – 9 – perhaps guilty of losing his man for the goal, but this was a titanic display from Forest’s outstanding player of the second half of the season.
Wilson – 8 – an efficient and industrious performance to keep a tough Wolves strikeforce quiet.
Lynch – 7 – continues to look a lot more settled in his role under Davies.
McGugan – 6 – not the battling performance that Davies’ rant might have inspired.
Cohen – 7 – played out of his skin and never shirked a challenge. This kind of metal was essential if Forest were to get a result today, and Cohen will be as disappointed as anybody that his efforts were not rewarded.
Perch – 6.5 – stood tall and threw himself into some vital challenges. We missed Osbourne or Moussi’s creative input in this role.
Earnshaw – 7 – worked extremely hard but had very little to work with. Earnshaw is desperate to avoid the drop.
McSheffrey – 6.5 – flashes of excellence, again, but struggled to sustain the quality against a strong Wolves side.
Anderson – 6.5 – looked a little bit lightweight at times, but his poise on the break continues to be a major asset.
Subs:
McCleary -6
Tyson -6
Garner-6
Saturday 14 March 2009
It could have been 10...
Another 250 miles, another disgusting performance, and another bold stride in the direction of League One.
I cannot begin to understand how Forest contrived to follow their best week of the season with by far the worst. But that is exactly what has happened, and performances like the last two are not worthy even of the league below.
Burnley is a miserable place for visiting supporters; a sprawl of decaying back-to-backs, crumbling community centres and a stadium screaming for demolition.
The wind and fits of drizzle painted the vulgar scene in a morose grey hue, adding to the despondency. But nothing ruined this afternoon quite like Forest did.
Squad depletion and bad luck are no longer valid excuses. We are being humbled by teams that are not even noteworthy by Championship standards.
One of the most frustrating things about this afternoon is that we allowed a leggy Burnley side to stroll through us as though they are Brazil. The difference between the two sides looked greater than it did last Sunday when Burnley played at the Emirates - the outcome was a deserved embarrassment.
They had total freedom to dismantle and disgrace us on their own terms. Our defending was, yet again, as poor as it ever has been.
Going forward we had nothing short of dead-end runs, and occasional flickers of life from Osbourne were about the only outlet.
A team including McSheffrey, Earnshaw, Tyson and Cohen should never be quite as useless as Forest were this afternoon, but useless is no exaggeration.
If Burnley had delivered the kind of performance that saw Chelsea defeated it would have been double figures this afternoon.
Our supporters, raucous in the early stages, began to show the strains of the peril we are facing. Pockets of supporters audibly booing Paul Smith almost came to blows with those who took offence to the dissent. Some were driven to heckling, others simply buried grey faces into their hands to shield their eyes from the carnage.
It is all seems terrifyingly familiar.
Champions elect Wolves are next in line. It could get worse before it gets better.
Ratings:
Smith – 4 – seven more games as Forest’s first choice keeper. Poor distribution all afternoon, and a howler that pulled open the floodgates.
Chambers – 4 – allowed almost every attempted cross to reach the box, melted into literal insignificance as they walked their second into the net.
Morgan – 5 – not as many gaffes as Chambers, but a defence conceding 5 goals is capped at a rating of 5. At five o’clock I’d have been inclined to set the glass ceiling at 1.
Perch – 5 – as above.
Gunter – 5 – he’s a good footballer, and potentially twice the quality of every other full-back at the club. A few training sessions with Super Luke and co should hammer him down a notch or two.
McCleary – 4.5 – one or two stepovers that succeeded only in ending our attacks. When he plays like this there is simply no point in him being out there.
Osbourne – 6 – his occasional breakthrough passes were our only hope.
Cohen – 5 – of course he battled and grafted, but he didn’t get anywhere.
McSheffrey – 5 – largely anonymous. I’m starting to think that we will never see his talent flourishing in a Forest shirt. He is a top quality player at this level, but we are very poor.
Earnshaw – 6 – I had a lot of sympathy with him today. Service?
Tyson – 5 – could not get involved.
Subs:
Garner – 6
Thornhill -6
McGugan - /
I cannot begin to understand how Forest contrived to follow their best week of the season with by far the worst. But that is exactly what has happened, and performances like the last two are not worthy even of the league below.
Burnley is a miserable place for visiting supporters; a sprawl of decaying back-to-backs, crumbling community centres and a stadium screaming for demolition.
The wind and fits of drizzle painted the vulgar scene in a morose grey hue, adding to the despondency. But nothing ruined this afternoon quite like Forest did.
Squad depletion and bad luck are no longer valid excuses. We are being humbled by teams that are not even noteworthy by Championship standards.
One of the most frustrating things about this afternoon is that we allowed a leggy Burnley side to stroll through us as though they are Brazil. The difference between the two sides looked greater than it did last Sunday when Burnley played at the Emirates - the outcome was a deserved embarrassment.
They had total freedom to dismantle and disgrace us on their own terms. Our defending was, yet again, as poor as it ever has been.
Going forward we had nothing short of dead-end runs, and occasional flickers of life from Osbourne were about the only outlet.
A team including McSheffrey, Earnshaw, Tyson and Cohen should never be quite as useless as Forest were this afternoon, but useless is no exaggeration.
If Burnley had delivered the kind of performance that saw Chelsea defeated it would have been double figures this afternoon.
Our supporters, raucous in the early stages, began to show the strains of the peril we are facing. Pockets of supporters audibly booing Paul Smith almost came to blows with those who took offence to the dissent. Some were driven to heckling, others simply buried grey faces into their hands to shield their eyes from the carnage.
It is all seems terrifyingly familiar.
Champions elect Wolves are next in line. It could get worse before it gets better.
Ratings:
Smith – 4 – seven more games as Forest’s first choice keeper. Poor distribution all afternoon, and a howler that pulled open the floodgates.
Chambers – 4 – allowed almost every attempted cross to reach the box, melted into literal insignificance as they walked their second into the net.
Morgan – 5 – not as many gaffes as Chambers, but a defence conceding 5 goals is capped at a rating of 5. At five o’clock I’d have been inclined to set the glass ceiling at 1.
Perch – 5 – as above.
Gunter – 5 – he’s a good footballer, and potentially twice the quality of every other full-back at the club. A few training sessions with Super Luke and co should hammer him down a notch or two.
McCleary – 4.5 – one or two stepovers that succeeded only in ending our attacks. When he plays like this there is simply no point in him being out there.
Osbourne – 6 – his occasional breakthrough passes were our only hope.
Cohen – 5 – of course he battled and grafted, but he didn’t get anywhere.
McSheffrey – 5 – largely anonymous. I’m starting to think that we will never see his talent flourishing in a Forest shirt. He is a top quality player at this level, but we are very poor.
Earnshaw – 6 – I had a lot of sympathy with him today. Service?
Tyson – 5 – could not get involved.
Subs:
Garner – 6
Thornhill -6
McGugan - /
Wednesday 11 March 2009
Buzzards
An evening of rampant and unfathomable nonsense from a Forest side lacking any of the qualities showcased over the last week.
Davies dropped Earnshaw for the game, but his biggest mistake was dropping the work rate, movement and common sense.
This kind of performance not only thrusts Forest back into relegation peril, it also alienates supporters.
I travelled a total of 340 miles to see the game. My wallet feels somewhat dainty. Some squandered annual leave on afternoons away from work, while others will be patching together excuses for their day off school.
And for what? From the first minute Forest were second best against a team that boasts no upgrade in ability. I do sometimes wonder if football players have any real grasp of the sacrifices people make to watch them go to work.
The pitch was a squalid mass of ploughed turf and divots. Forest had trouble making 5-yard passes across it, but Watford somehow strolled through the handicap whenever they reached the final third.
It would not be much of an exaggeration to say that Forest’s defending tonight was the poorest in living memory.
Oh how they reeled at predictable through balls and sidewards passes. Smith blushed and shrugged, his vacuous comrades fell weak at the knees and Watford’s forwards skipped and sauntered through meadows of space.
The opening goal was the result of hilariously bad marking, and only minutes later the defence waved in a Don Cowie for Watford’s second. He spurned his shot impossibly wide from 10-yards, and Forest somehow lived on.
A gaffe from Guy Moussi, who played with his head floating in the clouds, should also have made it two. A little while later Smith was forced into a close-range block as Forest’s defenders attempted some kind of panic-stricken offside trap from a corner.
Matt Thornhill finished beautifully on 17 minutes, squaring the scores against the run of play. The 2,000 travelling supporters saw a lifeline, but their men gracelessly refused it.
Watford looked frail defensively, and the opportunity to seize the game was dangling in perfect snatching distance.
But at no stage did Forest look capable of taking advantage. Lynch’s injury landed another blow, and his replacement Ian Breckin was responsible for the second goal.
The veteran was left appealing for offside in piteous desperation as he staggered yards behind Rasiak and watched the goal from afar.
Earnshaw’s introduction at half-time showed spirit and ambition from Davies, but it proved misguided.
I would love to tell the story of a resurgent Forest battling to the death and missing out on a draw by sheer bad luck. It simply isn’t the case.
Had anybody left during the break, they would have missed out on absolutely nothing.
My enduring memory of the second half is Paul Smith kicking the ball as hard as he could towards midget Robert Earnshaw, catching the ball 20 seconds later, and then kicking it as hard as he could ad infinitum.
There are not many games to go now, and despite showing so much promise over the last week it looks as though our season will go the wire.
I have genuine faith in the manager’s shrewdness and ambition, but it will count for nothing if we cannot weather the storm and survive in this division.
One or two more performances of this standard will bring the buzzards to the City Ground. No question.
Davies dropped Earnshaw for the game, but his biggest mistake was dropping the work rate, movement and common sense.
This kind of performance not only thrusts Forest back into relegation peril, it also alienates supporters.
I travelled a total of 340 miles to see the game. My wallet feels somewhat dainty. Some squandered annual leave on afternoons away from work, while others will be patching together excuses for their day off school.
And for what? From the first minute Forest were second best against a team that boasts no upgrade in ability. I do sometimes wonder if football players have any real grasp of the sacrifices people make to watch them go to work.
The pitch was a squalid mass of ploughed turf and divots. Forest had trouble making 5-yard passes across it, but Watford somehow strolled through the handicap whenever they reached the final third.
It would not be much of an exaggeration to say that Forest’s defending tonight was the poorest in living memory.
Oh how they reeled at predictable through balls and sidewards passes. Smith blushed and shrugged, his vacuous comrades fell weak at the knees and Watford’s forwards skipped and sauntered through meadows of space.
The opening goal was the result of hilariously bad marking, and only minutes later the defence waved in a Don Cowie for Watford’s second. He spurned his shot impossibly wide from 10-yards, and Forest somehow lived on.
A gaffe from Guy Moussi, who played with his head floating in the clouds, should also have made it two. A little while later Smith was forced into a close-range block as Forest’s defenders attempted some kind of panic-stricken offside trap from a corner.
Matt Thornhill finished beautifully on 17 minutes, squaring the scores against the run of play. The 2,000 travelling supporters saw a lifeline, but their men gracelessly refused it.
Watford looked frail defensively, and the opportunity to seize the game was dangling in perfect snatching distance.
But at no stage did Forest look capable of taking advantage. Lynch’s injury landed another blow, and his replacement Ian Breckin was responsible for the second goal.
The veteran was left appealing for offside in piteous desperation as he staggered yards behind Rasiak and watched the goal from afar.
Earnshaw’s introduction at half-time showed spirit and ambition from Davies, but it proved misguided.
I would love to tell the story of a resurgent Forest battling to the death and missing out on a draw by sheer bad luck. It simply isn’t the case.
Had anybody left during the break, they would have missed out on absolutely nothing.
My enduring memory of the second half is Paul Smith kicking the ball as hard as he could towards midget Robert Earnshaw, catching the ball 20 seconds later, and then kicking it as hard as he could ad infinitum.
There are not many games to go now, and despite showing so much promise over the last week it looks as though our season will go the wire.
I have genuine faith in the manager’s shrewdness and ambition, but it will count for nothing if we cannot weather the storm and survive in this division.
One or two more performances of this standard will bring the buzzards to the City Ground. No question.
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