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
