The Forest Way?

For the first 45 minutes this was a timorous stand-off between two sides with very little on the agenda - and it was dull.

Lounging in the spring’s first real burst of sunshine I could comfortably have dozed off, and the half-time hugs and kisses in the "groundbreaking integration scheme" nearly finished the job.

But Forest are a settled side now, and for the first time in months quality alone supplied the points.

The tantrums and mood-swings both on and off the field have subsided, automatic promotion has been stoically conceded, the loss of players to both injury and frugality has at last been taken on the chin.

With dummies back in mouths Forest are a force to be reckoned with and the second half showed it.

Ipswich didn't come to contain or absorb, they had a spirited jab at Forest but the opening goal sent them sprawling.

Guy Moussi has grown into the side in the absence of McKenna, Tyson had his strongest game from the flank in some time, we defended bruskly but effectively.

A 3-0 win probably exaggerates our dominance, but midway through the second half I stirred from my slumber and realised that Ipswich had vanished without trace.

For all the po-faced debates about desirable play-off opponents, it’s worth remembering that we’re the team others will be looking to avoid.

From week to week my play-off aspirations and trepidations are wavering. The comfort with which we restrained Cardiff, in third gear throughout, and the ease of today’s points has restored my optimism.

I can still picture a weak-kneed Forest side crumbling without explanation against a fitter, healthier, hungrier Wembley opponent.

It’s a symptom of joining the Forest ranks in the mid-1990s with the descent in full throttle. It just fits in with Forest’s way.

But in his time at the club Billy Davies has treated the ‘Forest way’ with nothing but contempt. And the closer we get, the more I am starting to believe.

NB Condolences to Chandler Corner’s ‘jesus’ the steward who will surely be dismissed for having a sense of humour. The orange-coated Mediterranean security chief, a would-be Jason Bourne figure, was furious at the obvious signs of humanity.

Your job is to absorb and incinerate passion and interest, he will surely be told.

Ratings:

Camp – 7 – a quiet afternoon, dependable in the most part and gobbled up a couple of in-swinging second half corners.

Chambers – 7 – fairly trouble-free performance and, albeit by accident, he’s again on the scoresheet. I wasn’t exactly looking to the skies for answers as he hobbled off, but he’s doing ok.

Wilson – 7 – prone to dozey moments at either ends of the season and somebody will need to hit him with a wet fish before the play-offs. But he did the business today.

Morgan – 7.5 – a wall of a man. Sat Navs should come equipped with an ‘Avoid Wes Morgan’ option for the Championship’s ailing forwards. Give the man a pay-rise.

Gunter – 7 – having quality like Chris Gunter in our side is one of the main reasons why we’re in this position. Back in my day, lad, it were Nicky Eaden or Gino Padula.

Tyson – 7 – Ipswich are not bruisers and there was a lot of space on offer. Personally I felt he took advantage, though rather hap-hazardly, with an improved performance. In any case, he’s still a centre forward or nothing for me.

Moussi – 8 – he still has plenty of Ali Dia moments, but Billy is currently building the team around him in McKenna’s absence and he is stepping up to the plate.

Cohen – 7 – standard Cohen stuff. I’d give him a break now.

Anderson – 7 – the whippet. He’ll do damage between now and the end of the season because his energy is flawless.

Blackstock – 6.5 – another candidate for a short break.

Earnshaw – 7 – a busy afternoon, and a lot more effort than last week. When he needs goals, he gets them.

Subs:

Nah, can’t be arsed. Give them all a 7.

Marching into Battle

It was always going to be a 0-0.

The TV cameras, the consternation of grappling a play-off rival, the fact that today's 'VIP legend' was Steve Chettle (whose honours include several man of the match awards...)

But it was a good 0-0; feisty and spirited - and viewed in a refreshingly proportionate context.

There has been a notable shift in the demands and expectations of the Forest crowd this weekend and the changes have been reflected on-pitch.

Gone are the cantankerous grumbles and accusing fingers. Today Forest had the determined air of troops marching into a battle, for better or worse.

Cardiff started the game confidently, all pomp and fury.

By the final 20 minutes they had both eyes on the clock and two hands cupped firmly around their balls. We had them wobbling, and the pressure which sparked handbags within their own ranks is not something they have faced often in 2010.

For the first time tonight I saw some evidence that Forest have adapted to the various blows. If Rob Earnshaw hadn't been wearing his Cardiff boxer shorts we'd have snatched all three points with ease.

We are not likely to match the vigour and glory of a side boasting Nicky Shorey, Paul McKenna and a host of players in career-defining form.

But finally we are waking up to the realities and adjusting to them. The compromise of our full-backs and the absence of a midfield water-carrier are still obvious, but they are no longer reducing us to shambles.

It has to carry on. We need to chalk up an away win and carry our home run into the play-offs.

A week ago I gave us no hope but something about our steel this afternoon has resuscitated my ailing faith. Billy just might do this.

Ratings:

Camp - 6.5 - virtually nothing to do

Chambers - 7 - a solid performance and one or two good crosses. He is only let down when we try to break with pace and he struggles to find the right pass

Wilson - 7.5 - strong and convincing throughout

Morgan - 7.5 - continues to look every inch a top-end Championship defender. There have been times Wes hasn't even looked like a footballer and, along with his manager, he deserves great praise.

Gunter - 8 - a storming performance, despite the ongoing setback of his limp left foot

Cohen - 7 - a consistent and prolific workhorse who will be worth his weight in platinum come the play-offs

Moussi - 7 - another strong performance but he again forgot how to kick half way through the second half. He's prone to that

Majewski - 7 - he's had busier games, but it was no disaster

Tyson - 6 - doesn't have the mettle to take players on. He belongs on the shoulder of the deepest defender, waiting to pounce. As a winger he's really not much good at all

Blackstock - 8 - a handful all afternoon, despite being punished seemingly for winning headers on several occasions

Earnshaw - 7 - decent all-round display but he really doesn't like to score against Cardiff. Next time he slaps his head like a true Cardiff reprobate he should be slapped with a fine


Subs:

McGoldrick - 7
McCleary - 7

Three Blinks

It's very difficult to get excited about these pergatorial pre-playoff bouts. Conversely, it's very easy to be riled by them.

Having made the laborious and fairly wet journey alone I was feeling markedly uninspired in the build-up to kick-off.

Alas, within seconds of the game starting, I was alive with the spirit of rage.

The sodden pitch, the black skies, the slurring natives. Forest didn't fancy this. Three blinks after the first whistle we fell behind. Another blink later we ballooned possession into the stands from the re-start.

The travelling faithful were silent, glum. Billy was nesting in the back of his dugout. Guy Moussi was literally hopping with fury as aimless balls whisped gaily and relentlessly over his head.

It looked like a long afternoon, and for the first half an hour I saw no way into the game.

The hosts looked disturbingly but unequivocally stronger. That trip to Wembley seemed a long way off.

But Bristol City have been noted for their sluggishness all season. The urgency drained, the natives receeded, the legs wearied.

I'll stop a fair bit short of saying the difference in quality started to show, but Moussi's inexplicable and brilliant equaliser swung them game in Forest's favour.

Without ever fitting into the shadow cast by the great Forest side of late 2009 we took charge of proceedings.

In the second half we increasingly bossed possession and carved open the wings. Joe Garner, in a rare appearance as a - hold on to your seats - centre forward, could and should have won it from three yards out.

And of course the game couldn't finish without an invitation for a little more scarlet-faced fury.

The City goalkeeper fled his goal like a reeling whippet and lunged into a 50-50 tackle with Nathan Tyson.

He came off badly in a challenge that could just as easily have shattered Tyson's glass legs.

But the referee brandished a yellow card, awarded the hosts a free-kick, and spent the eight minutes of stoppage time awarding sympathy free-kicks to protect the centre forward dinosaur who deputised between the posts.

If I may be churlish for a moment - he bottled it.

In fear of the flammable home crowd he began to question his decision to 'only' book Tyson and couldn't face a late winner.

Although it's probably just as well we didn't grab one. Given the sneering repugnance of the home supporters I fear I may have exploded with happiness if we'd won.

Strange things, these pre-playoff bouts.

Ratings:

Camp - 7
Chambers - 6
Wilson - 7
Morgan - 7
Gunter - 7

Boyd - 6.5
Moussi - 8
Perch - 7
Cohen - 6.5

McGoldrick - 6
Adebola - 6

Now for drinks.

Fog on the Tyne is all wet

Motorways, queues, service stations, lagers, loads of rain.

At one point there was a football match too but that bit was fairly dull.

Last night’s game surely consigns Forest to the play-off drama – and secures Newcastle’s promotion.

The mood at the end of the game was certainly one of finality.

Forest fans descending the 15,000 steps sang Que Sera Sera while the Newcastle supporters, newly awakened after their 70-minute slumber, slapped each other’s backs and planned for the Premiership.

The last time we sang the ubiquitous (and presumptuous) Wembley song Forest launched into an impossible unbeaten run and snaffled second spot.

I don’t see it happening again. But on a more positive note, at no point were Forest embarrassed.

It was a fairly solid performance across the board but the difference in quality was fairly obvious.

One or two of our players froze on stage and became preoccupied with trying to avoid mistakes, stunting our creativity. We can only hope this isn’t a precursor to a Wembley meltdown.

Deploying Tyson as a centre forward, and thus using him in his only viable position, could have changed the game.

The pitch at Newcastle looked as long as the stadium is tall and Tyson’s only real contribution was a burst of pace in the opening exchanges. On the wing he was hidden, or hiding, and his pace was rarely exploited.

It was a fair effort, but really it was far too easy for a side who should have been worried about playing us. The first goal ended the game.

And without wanting to sound like Billy Davies, two or three new faces in January – or even March – may have reduced the gap.

With the play-offs fast approaching we must address our away form as a matter of urgency. It will also be important to maintain our home form if we’re to bag a Wembley spot, but how we will adapt to our compromised ambitions remains to be seen.

The ‘famous’ Newcastle supporters were a fairly predictable brew of the jobless, brainless and hopeless. Quiet too, regardless of what the sycophants on TV may have said.

But the more affable sorts boozing in the town centre afterwards were predictably talkative and humble in victory. Significantly better company than the slurring chumps we see most weekends.

It’s the sort of trip to the sort of stadium we ought to be making more regularly. Here’s hoping.

Ratings:

Camp – 8 – several smart saves to keep us in the game.

Perch – 7 – far more suited to right-back, several eye-catching tackles and an improved all-round performance. But from where I was sitting, admittedly about nine miles above the pitch, he still looked lost.

Wilson – 7 – a solid performance overall

Morgan – 7 – seemingly dependable on any occasion

Gunter – 7 – caught wrong-footed several times on the left, but a Gunter operating at 60 per cent is preferable to Perch or Chambers lumbering in the same role

Anderson – 7 – never really found the freedom to make an impact, but he didn’t give up trying

Majewski – 7 – plenty of effort but little to show for it on the night

Moussi – 7 – improved distribution and a better all-round performance on the bigger pitch

Cohen – 5 – the usual blood and guts, but a lot of his passes seemed to end up in the wrong hands – or the crowd.

Tyson – 5.5 – up front or nothing as far as I’m concerned. He’s useless on the wing.

Blackstock – 7 – won plenty of headers but there was no way through.

Billy's World

The reason for Angry Bill’s ongoing rage is obvious.

For Billy Davies, the world and all of its elements are orbiting Billy Davies.

It is an uncompromising system of attack from a man whose success lies in relentlessly expecting the worst.

Every kick, every slide tackle, every cough and every splutter is a potential plaudit in his name. Likewise they hold the key to his downfall.

By January he saw glory and adulation within snatching distance. He heard the lauding of his name, tasted the satisfaction of proving critics wrong, revelled in the absolution for ‘that bloke from down the A50’.

In his mind the riches were stripped gracelessly from him by a lack of ambition from above.

Of course, he has a point. Three new signings at a cost of around £4m would probably have carried us over the finishing line - and he wants everybody to know about it.

I can almost see him on the Wembley turf, head cocked sideways to the camera, enthusiastically blaming defeat on ‘missed opportunities to strengthen’ and our ‘learning’ side.

It’s a symptom of a Billy Davies management, and one that endures in its appeal to those who grew exasperated to fury at Colin Calderwood’s meagre grovelling.

Another symptom is points growing on trees. Games like today’s would so often have ended in defeat under previous regimes, but the current Forest side has fostered the ability to spring a surprise.

It was a miserably wet afternoon. Heavy, oppressive and muggy, with bad smells lingering in the air. The match was a chore to watch and, evidently, a chore to play.

Peterborough were slow to start and looked every inch a League One side. But when our opening goal was out of the way they broke out of their chains and had a real go.

We defended both wings poorly, inviting attack, and our own advances were all too frequently into blind alleys and cul-de-sacs.
It was a non-event, sodden by teeming rain and further dampened with bickering and poor performances across the board.
But it was three points.

Everything is pointing towards another season in the Championship, but as long as Billy is at the helm there remains a distinct possibility that something ridiculous will happen.

His sides invariably have that ballistic capability.

He’s a miserable bugger and needs to stop moaning. But after all, the world does revolve around him...

Ratings:

Camp – 8 – a string of excellent saves to keep us in the match
Gunter – 6.5 – scrappy and got forward often, but he was too easy to pass at times.
Morgan – 7.5 – bison-esque, including trying to head a ball that was literally on the ground. The striker’s foot just bounced off his chops.
Wilson – 7.5 – a solid performance.
Perch – 6 – oh well, we’ll have to sign a left back on loan then... I wouldn’t be surprised if the outward hobble was scripted.

Anderson – 7.5 – at times he was our only outlet, despite having to feed on scraps.
Moussi – 6 – did a fairly good job of keeping things ticking over, but under Billy he seems to have been put on the leash. The livewire 75-yard crosses and miraculous wriggles have been replaced by an altogether more sensible Moose. I’m not sure I like it.
Majewski – 7.5 – always had a pass ready. Another individually competent performance in a midfield system that flopped. He and Moussi were too far apart, but he had a good game.
Cohen – 7 – the usual blood, guts and thunder.

Blackstock – 7 – a handful throughout, but no cutting edge.
Earnshaw – 7 – lively enough, stunted by his selfishness at times but he notched the winner.

Subs:
Chambers – 6
McCleary – 7
Adebola – 6.5

Beautifully Fickle

Of all the people.

You could almost see the knowing smirk filling Chambers’ chops as the cross sailed by the goalkeeper and landed on his forehead.

A long afternoon of clubbing balls into the stand and wrong-footing himself were forgotten in a second. Football at its best.

The unadulterated rage of the Swansea supporters still mourning the penalty decision was the icing on the cake. When I calmed down after three minutes of screaming I expected a further five of clinging for dear life.

But there were no such tribulations.

The game seemed to end a few seconds later and the job was done. And what an important job it may prove to be.

Every time I unfurl the white flag and brace for the play-offs Billy pulls another rabbit from his magic hat, sparking butterflies and wild thoughts.

West Brom are Championship heavyweights with a deep and proficient squad which should, at face value, have no problem storming over the line.

Newcastle, all of a sudden, are on a different planet.

Forest have a threadbare squad, minus a captain, with League One footballers stepping off the bench and plunging thousands of feet into an alien promotion charge.

Exactly one week ago the writing was on the wall, now Billy’s scrubbed it off again and anything seems possible - injuries or not.

Silly season is well and truly underway, and it makes a nice change for us to be at the sharp end of it.

Ratings:

Camp – 6 – a few dodgy clearances and an otherwise quiet afternoon.

Gunter – 7.5 – a spirited performance; dug in at the back and surged forward with real determination.

Chambers – 6 – not a defensive masterclass. If Wilson is out for weeks not days it will be a grave concern. But his goal could prove vital.

Morgan – 7 – found Kuqi a handful, but kept him quiet overall.

Cohen - 7 – better than Perch, but with McKenna crocked he may be needed elsewhere.

Anderson – 6.5 – let down by his failure to take on the last man. Again.

McKenna - /

Moussi – 6 – needs a water-carrier to set him loose, he isn’t a ‘midfield general’.

Boyd – 7 – flashes of excellence but there’s more to come.

Majewski – 6.5 – bewildered in the floating role, but fed on scraps and thrived in the 10 minutes before he was subbed.

Blackstock – 7 – did an important but thankless job of leading the line alone.

Subs:

McGugan – 6.5 – sloppy at times but he grew into the performance.
McGoldrick – 7
McCleary - 7

Bitter

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.