"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

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.

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

Very Strange Times at NG2

Something strange is happening at the City Ground.

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.

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

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.

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.