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.
Saturday 28 November 2009
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
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