To the eternal optimist our blood-and-balls slog against Sheffield United and Middlesbrough was the mark of a side grinding through adversity - as the triumphant invariably do.
To the discerning eye it was the paltry offerings of a spent force.
The reality is probably somewhere in between, and in any case we are far from crisis. But increasingly our fate seems mapped.
A run-in of false dawns, misplaced excitement, an exasperating stammer on our travels, and ultimately a ‘play-off lottery’ come six months late. Inevitably a summer of mourning our squandered January.
It all seems to make a lot more sense than the possibility of us surging into second place, and after a performance like today’s second half it’s a fait accompli that almost seems inviting.
I can’t put my finger on what went wrong. It just stopped. The second half display was not especially dreadful, it was just non-existent.
Leicester were fairly poor, an average side delivering a passable impression of a contender. It’s how they’ve thrived all season in a poor league.
But for at least 65 minutes of today’s game they had the upper hand simply by being on the pitch.
Forest started as though slowly waking from a long afternoon snooze, but by the end of the half the class was beginning to show. Cohen was beginning to burst through the centre, Blackstock had the measure of his hefty opponents and - as the bar rattled - we seemed to be on the cusp of glory.
Then came half-time. Effectively the end of the match.
At 0-1 our players did not relish the guts needed for a fightback, at 0-2 they couldn’t wait to get off the pitch, at 0-3 they sulked. And so did I.
The fact that it’s Leicester shouldn’t mean too much to a Forest fan. We’re the illustrious and apathetic statesmen, after all.
But it is impossible not to be shaken by the sight of so many revelling cross-breeds who, prior to the 70th minute, were among the most forlorn supporters we have seen in decades.
Never before has “you only sing when you’re winning” been more accurate.
And after the Forest fans respectfully and enthusiastically joined the minute’s applause for a man few of us have even heard of, it was somewhat galling to hear “where’s your Cloughie gone”, “Brian Clough, what a wanker” etc.
They're a bitter sort, Leicester fans. At the moment, so am I.
Ratings
Camp – 7 – quick off his line all game and not to blame for our meltdown. I didn’t see much of the free-kick but it beat him all ends up.
Gunter – 6.5 – caught short at the back a few times but did well on the overlap.
Wilson – 7 – a fairly solid performance, overall.
Morgan – 7 – reliable as ever, including a pitch-length dribble while his colleagues sulked.
Perch – 5 – not his worst performance, but he is a weakness and there is no way around it.
Anderson -5 – dismal, failed innumerable attempts to go past players and couldn’t get the ball under control.
McKenna – 5 – too many aimless balls and incomplete passes. If dropping him for a fortnight will bring him back to life then I’m all for it, not that we have much of an alternative.
Majewski – 6 – it didn’t really drop for him all afternoon.
Cohen – 6 – dreadful passing, but he covered a lot of ground and made some good runs in the first half.
Blackstock – 7 – an afternoon of doing his best with almost nothing.
Earnshaw – 5.5 – didn’t offer much.
Subs:
Tyson – 4.5 – didn’t offer anything.
McGoldrick – 5 – the usual.
Referee Lee Probert – 4 – a lot of referees are pedantic, but few are as smug about it. A catalogue of seemingly imaginary incidents.
Saturday 27 February 2010
Wednesday 10 February 2010
An inquest heard
A football club which came within months of Premier League football for the first time in a decade failed to buy a single player in the January transfer window, an inquest has heard.
Nottingham Forest FC, aged 145, from West Bridgford, collapsed without warning in early February 2010 after a long spell of almost perfect health.
Dr William McIntosh Davies told Nottingham Coroner's Court the club was ‘making really positive steps’ in the run up to its death and had even found itself ‘in a really positive situation.’
“As far as Dr Davies was concerned this young club was on the rise” he added.
The court heard that paramedics found the club on its knees at an industrial estate near Coventry and pronounced it dead at the scene.
An autopsy later revealed several square pegs had been forced into round holes.
“Basically the club had just run out of legs” Dr Davies said.
“The Incoming Stock Committee were handed a very long list of remedies, but it seems that at some point between Christmas and the end of January that list was lost.”
Mark Arthur, the club’s full-time carer, told the court: “We made valiant attempts to address points made on the list, but the remedies proved elusive.
“If Dr Davies is interested in arranging to borrow some of them in the short-term we are still more than happy to assist him.”
In his summary Coroner Nick Kerrs told the court he had ‘absolutely no doubts’ about the cause of the club’s downfall and recorded a verdict of suicide.
Ends
After two dubious performances and a familiar bout of internal turmoil, tonight’s game seemed somewhat ‘do or die’.
If it was, we’re dead.
Contrary to earlier reports we may even have been dead before the game started. Forest were present in body but not in mind, and the same applies to our travelling supporters.
The physical appearance of lumbering red shapes may have implied otherwise, but absolutely nobody from Nottingham turned up.
A 15-minute spell at the start of the second half brought faint promise as Coventry questioned their own solidarity. But our rhythm was cruelly interrupted by the referee collapsing beneath his beer gut.
What followed was sheer farce. Perhaps it’s an ardent, deep-seated sexism talking but I found his female substitute hysterically inadequate.
The six minutes of stoppage time represented compensation for half of what we were owed, and Coventry gobbled up another half of that as players eagerly writhed on the turf.
But we can blame nobody but ourselves. It was a dispirited, lethargic, sulky performance from a side that was second best all night.
The Championship is a frenzied place and in three weeks we may well have the champagne on ice again.
Blips are to be expected in such a marathon season, and even if it is a blip which destroys fall hopes of second spot we will scarcely have cause for complaint.
But it increasingly seems that our idle January will again leave us fretting over what might have been.
RIBs (Ratings in Brief)
Camp – 7 – spectacular save immediately before the goal. Couldn’t keep it out but wasn’t at fault.
Gunter – 6.5 – one too many sliced clearances, but a fairly steady performance.
Morgan – 7 – a creditable performance, thwarted by occasional aimless distribution.
Wilson – 7 – all at sea once or twice in the first half, but he’s not the reason we lost.
Cohen – 6.5 – a waste at left back, but immediately better-suited than Perch.
Garner – 4.5 – I don’t blame him, but there is nothing about his game which suggests he is a suitable winger. He hates his football at the moment and
couldn’t wait to leave the field, but has the season been so bad that the ironic cheers were necessary? Thought not.
McKenna – 5.5 – plenty of looping side-footers, spiralling into no man’s land. Has Ian Breckin returned as coach?
Moussi – 5 – his reluctance to move with the ball slowed us down at times and he failed in his responsibility to release the wingers.
Majewski – 6.5 – dire first half, but he found his tricks (and presumably got his head right...) in the second.
Anderson – 5.5 – a fairly anonymous evening.
Blackstock – 7.5 – worked well with limited resources.
Subs:
Earnshaw – 5
McGoldrick - 5
McGugan – 5
A word on our venue for the evening. The Ricoh Arena is the only stadium in the world which captures perfect silence and stalls the movement of sound. Ironic jeers from the home supporters invariably arrived three minutes after a chant or on-field incident, as if delivered by pigeons.
The leg room, however, I found exemplary.
This is what we don’t want in Nottingham if England 2018 gets the nod.
Nottingham Forest FC, aged 145, from West Bridgford, collapsed without warning in early February 2010 after a long spell of almost perfect health.
Dr William McIntosh Davies told Nottingham Coroner's Court the club was ‘making really positive steps’ in the run up to its death and had even found itself ‘in a really positive situation.’
“As far as Dr Davies was concerned this young club was on the rise” he added.
The court heard that paramedics found the club on its knees at an industrial estate near Coventry and pronounced it dead at the scene.
An autopsy later revealed several square pegs had been forced into round holes.
“Basically the club had just run out of legs” Dr Davies said.
“The Incoming Stock Committee were handed a very long list of remedies, but it seems that at some point between Christmas and the end of January that list was lost.”
Mark Arthur, the club’s full-time carer, told the court: “We made valiant attempts to address points made on the list, but the remedies proved elusive.
“If Dr Davies is interested in arranging to borrow some of them in the short-term we are still more than happy to assist him.”
In his summary Coroner Nick Kerrs told the court he had ‘absolutely no doubts’ about the cause of the club’s downfall and recorded a verdict of suicide.
Ends
After two dubious performances and a familiar bout of internal turmoil, tonight’s game seemed somewhat ‘do or die’.
If it was, we’re dead.
Contrary to earlier reports we may even have been dead before the game started. Forest were present in body but not in mind, and the same applies to our travelling supporters.
The physical appearance of lumbering red shapes may have implied otherwise, but absolutely nobody from Nottingham turned up.
A 15-minute spell at the start of the second half brought faint promise as Coventry questioned their own solidarity. But our rhythm was cruelly interrupted by the referee collapsing beneath his beer gut.
What followed was sheer farce. Perhaps it’s an ardent, deep-seated sexism talking but I found his female substitute hysterically inadequate.
The six minutes of stoppage time represented compensation for half of what we were owed, and Coventry gobbled up another half of that as players eagerly writhed on the turf.
But we can blame nobody but ourselves. It was a dispirited, lethargic, sulky performance from a side that was second best all night.
The Championship is a frenzied place and in three weeks we may well have the champagne on ice again.
Blips are to be expected in such a marathon season, and even if it is a blip which destroys fall hopes of second spot we will scarcely have cause for complaint.
But it increasingly seems that our idle January will again leave us fretting over what might have been.
RIBs (Ratings in Brief)
Camp – 7 – spectacular save immediately before the goal. Couldn’t keep it out but wasn’t at fault.
Gunter – 6.5 – one too many sliced clearances, but a fairly steady performance.
Morgan – 7 – a creditable performance, thwarted by occasional aimless distribution.
Wilson – 7 – all at sea once or twice in the first half, but he’s not the reason we lost.
Cohen – 6.5 – a waste at left back, but immediately better-suited than Perch.
Garner – 4.5 – I don’t blame him, but there is nothing about his game which suggests he is a suitable winger. He hates his football at the moment and
couldn’t wait to leave the field, but has the season been so bad that the ironic cheers were necessary? Thought not.
McKenna – 5.5 – plenty of looping side-footers, spiralling into no man’s land. Has Ian Breckin returned as coach?
Moussi – 5 – his reluctance to move with the ball slowed us down at times and he failed in his responsibility to release the wingers.
Majewski – 6.5 – dire first half, but he found his tricks (and presumably got his head right...) in the second.
Anderson – 5.5 – a fairly anonymous evening.
Blackstock – 7.5 – worked well with limited resources.
Subs:
Earnshaw – 5
McGoldrick - 5
McGugan – 5
A word on our venue for the evening. The Ricoh Arena is the only stadium in the world which captures perfect silence and stalls the movement of sound. Ironic jeers from the home supporters invariably arrived three minutes after a chant or on-field incident, as if delivered by pigeons.
The leg room, however, I found exemplary.
This is what we don’t want in Nottingham if England 2018 gets the nod.
Saturday 6 February 2010
Unpretty
It wasn’t pretty, not even close. But after a week of ball-breaking, hair-tugging, fist-clenching frustration it was exactly what we needed.
I felt more down-and-out in the build up to this afternoon’s clash than I did at the end of last week’s.
The comradery and unanimous spirit of resilience that followed our Pride Park meltdown has been stretched to breaking point.
First Raging Bill’s “long list of targets” was snipped to a paltry three by the Transfer Mafia, who subsequently called in sick on deadline day for what felt like the 20th successive January.
Radoslaw Majewski was left feeling alone and unloved, West Brom continued their revival and – after appearing vaguely catchable for a week or so – Newcastle demolished a promotion rival to remind the rest of us why signing players in January is a good idea.
Yes, we needed points. And for a long time it looked as though we weren’t going to get them.
Under Irvine Shefiled Wednesday [see City Ground scoreboard] are what a smug pundit might call a ‘well-oiled machine’.
With McKenna under the cosh, and with a congested midfield and stubborn defence to contend with, we were blunted for the second game running. Progress was hardly aided and abetted by our redundant left flank.
What appeared to be a dubious penalty gave us a vital lift, but it was not a catalyst for the magic to return. This was all about patience and balls.
It was the worst home performance in some time; scrappy, stunted, and flat. But a hopeless optimist may point to the fact that this is exactly the right point of the season to start playing badly and raiding points regardless.
To concede a late equaliser against a form side and still recover to win is not the mark of a falling side.
Our wheels may have creaked a little this week, but they haven’t come off just yet.
The most satisfying moment of the afternoon was flying down the concrete steps to goad the Wednesday fans - launching straight into a potentially fatal mass of writhing idiots.
Football can be cruel at times, but we’ve been in their boots often enough.
Ratings:
Camp – 7.5 – some poor kicking, but he gobbled up everything and kept a cool head under pressure.
Gunter – 7 – dogged performance. Job done.
Morgan – 7.5 – Iron Wes delivers again.
Wilson – 7.5 – dependable and cool-headed.
Perch – 6 – spirited second half display as we dug in for the win, but his backward passing and frenzied dislike of possession are an ongoing concern.
Cohen – 7 – his mileage proved useful late on.
Moussi – 7 – a frustrating game for Moussi as opponents swarmed, but he picked out a few decent passes and kept going.
McKenna – 6 – has lost his magic wand in recent weeks.
Tyson – 6 – with a left-back entirely devoid of the ability to play forward balls he was never likely to be busy.
Earnshaw – 6 – a poor game by his own standards, including some very bizarre touches (Tyson-esque, I daresay).
Blackstock – 8 – did the business where it mattered most.
Subs:
Anderson – 7.5
Adebola – 7
McGoldrick – 7
Referee – 3 – don’t come again.
I felt more down-and-out in the build up to this afternoon’s clash than I did at the end of last week’s.
The comradery and unanimous spirit of resilience that followed our Pride Park meltdown has been stretched to breaking point.
First Raging Bill’s “long list of targets” was snipped to a paltry three by the Transfer Mafia, who subsequently called in sick on deadline day for what felt like the 20th successive January.
Radoslaw Majewski was left feeling alone and unloved, West Brom continued their revival and – after appearing vaguely catchable for a week or so – Newcastle demolished a promotion rival to remind the rest of us why signing players in January is a good idea.
Yes, we needed points. And for a long time it looked as though we weren’t going to get them.
Under Irvine Shefiled Wednesday [see City Ground scoreboard] are what a smug pundit might call a ‘well-oiled machine’.
With McKenna under the cosh, and with a congested midfield and stubborn defence to contend with, we were blunted for the second game running. Progress was hardly aided and abetted by our redundant left flank.
What appeared to be a dubious penalty gave us a vital lift, but it was not a catalyst for the magic to return. This was all about patience and balls.
It was the worst home performance in some time; scrappy, stunted, and flat. But a hopeless optimist may point to the fact that this is exactly the right point of the season to start playing badly and raiding points regardless.
To concede a late equaliser against a form side and still recover to win is not the mark of a falling side.
Our wheels may have creaked a little this week, but they haven’t come off just yet.
The most satisfying moment of the afternoon was flying down the concrete steps to goad the Wednesday fans - launching straight into a potentially fatal mass of writhing idiots.
Football can be cruel at times, but we’ve been in their boots often enough.
Ratings:
Camp – 7.5 – some poor kicking, but he gobbled up everything and kept a cool head under pressure.
Gunter – 7 – dogged performance. Job done.
Morgan – 7.5 – Iron Wes delivers again.
Wilson – 7.5 – dependable and cool-headed.
Perch – 6 – spirited second half display as we dug in for the win, but his backward passing and frenzied dislike of possession are an ongoing concern.
Cohen – 7 – his mileage proved useful late on.
Moussi – 7 – a frustrating game for Moussi as opponents swarmed, but he picked out a few decent passes and kept going.
McKenna – 6 – has lost his magic wand in recent weeks.
Tyson – 6 – with a left-back entirely devoid of the ability to play forward balls he was never likely to be busy.
Earnshaw – 6 – a poor game by his own standards, including some very bizarre touches (Tyson-esque, I daresay).
Blackstock – 8 – did the business where it mattered most.
Subs:
Anderson – 7.5
Adebola – 7
McGoldrick – 7
Referee – 3 – don’t come again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)