Make no mistake, Raging Bill had to reach very deep into the top hat for his latest trick.
Coventry will be seething; recoiling like a wet kitten. Their show-stopping display has yielded a two goal deficit while a slumbering Forest continue to bark outside the Premiership’s back door.
This is how a Billy Davies side really butters its bread.
Throughout the last three months we have strutted, strode and scintillated. But a team that holds its own at the sharp of the Championship is one that can growl, grunt and grind.
The visitors overran our midfield, hacked our decorous triangles into frenzied loops and forced Camp into several smart saves. But they left with nothing, and ultimately Forest will be disappointed to have not added at least a third.
With a new year looming, it is worth pondering the overwhelming influence Davies has had on Nottingham Forest’s fortunes.
Twelve months ago we were pondering the very real threat of becoming a yo-yo club between League One and the Championship; bobbing moodily between the scrappy and the insufferable.
Now we are towering ominously above all challengers. Teams are posting us points without even turning up to fight for them.
Credit to Coventry for rolling up their sleeves, but the net result is the same. Forest march on again.
It is going to be quite hard to stomach when the comedown eventually begins. Knowing Forest it will be a cataclysmic derailing and not a graceful bow. But then none of us really know Forest anymore, and none of us really know what is going to happen next.
All the more reason, in my view, to enjoy it while it lasts.
The several thousand supporters who shuffled out of the ground early – again – should be lapping up every glorious second. They’ll be the first to heckle when reality returns.
But to the travelling fans who sneered at our support: do not get carried away, chaps, at most Coventry games the Ricoh Arena looks like an empty bath and sounds like a doctor’s waiting room.
Oh, and you are indeed going down with Derby.
Ratings:
Camp – 7.5 – a few frenetic moments, but numerous saves and several excellent claims as he launched from his line.
Gunter – 7 – solid and tireless.
Wilson – 8 – a fairly dozy start to the game and he initially struggled with a rumbustious Leon Best. But his last-ditch lunges kept the sheet clean. Again.
Morgan – 7.5 – rock solid. Again.
Shorey – 7.5 – one slack moment, otherwise another solid performance and some flawless crosses into the penalty area. He’d get into any side in the bottom half of the Premiership and won’t be joining Forest – but he is more than welcome too.
Cohen – 6.5 – a lost lamb at times.
Majewski – 7.5 - industrious as ever, and his shooting star surge from deep in the Forest half laid on Earnshaw’s crucial opener.
McKenna – 6.5 – aberrantly sloppy. Not a two games in two days man at his age.
Tyson – 6 – half asleep throughout and ballooned his one-on-one into the second tier.
Earnshaw – 7 – a beautiful first half goal.
Blackstock – 7.5 – difficult to contain.
Subs:
McCleary – 7
McGugan – 7
Adebola – 8.5
Clattenberg – 3 – posing in his fitted shirt and surgically-transplanted quiff, he looked every inch the twat that he is.
Monday, 28 December 2009
Saturday, 19 December 2009
Have a sherry for Bill
The tantalising reality this evening is that Forest weren’t actually that good.
The Tom Finney curtain which Preston brought instead of travelling supporters might as well have been a white flag of surrender.
For the second successive home game we witnessed a trembling opposition step out of our path, doff their caps and usher us merrily on our assent.
Preston’s performance screamed ‘have the points’ and Furious Bill is not in the business of turning down offers like those.
At 0-0 we were sharp, a 1-0 we were decisive, at 2-0 we were obstinately solid. At 3-0 we had one foot in the bath and another stretching for a play-off ticket.
Every time we scored I found myself pondering the screaming mass of swirling red scarves with the same baffled grin.
When will it end? As a Forest fan whose footballing life started in 1998 I know very well that it has to end at some point.
We are destined to be dismal. It’s a fait accompli.
But that is what makes Baying Bill’s conquest so intriguing. He does not care much for our time-honoured rubric of anti-climax and torture.
This man will spit in as many faces as is necessary to clear a path to glory.
His troops are not too shabby either. Waiting impatiently behind the impossibly mobile Adebola and the attention-hungry Earnshaw was Tyson, the division’s fastest player, McGoldrick, a £1m-rated forward, and Blackstock, a notorious marksmen.
Players like Lewis McGugan and Guy Moussi are sweating buckets just to make the bench. Yesteryear stalwarts Luke Chambers and James Perch – indubitable pillars of the Calderwood saga – are scarcely on the radar.
There is hunger, there is belief, there is competition – and there is a damn good manager shouting about it.
I have absolutely no idea if we can sustain this but I compel you all to raise a sherry to Raging Bill on Friday. We are unbeaten in what feels like a decade and Christmas is looking unusually merry.
Ratings
Camp – 6.5 – the television cameras don’t bring out the best in him. I always get the impression he’s looking at them through the corner of his eye.
Gunter – 6.5 – drifted off course once or twice but a solid performance.
Wilson – 7.5 – exceptional again; strides ahead of last season’s standard.
Morgan – 7.5 – unhindered and unphased by anything, including the introduction of Europe’s fattest strikeforce.
Shorey – 7.5 – the cameras were on, the world was watching, and transfer-hungry Shorey gave a guts-and-all performance of the highest standard. He’ll get his move, if it’s what he’s looking for, but I doubt it will be to Nottingham Forest.
Cohen – 6.5 – a lot of graft, but he’s no fan of the wing and it shows.
Majewski – 7.5 – a touch of continental class with the endearing spirit of Polish endeavour.
McKenna – 8 – a screamer of a goal and an almost flawless shift as he ran the midfield.
Adebola – 7 – continues to excel in ways he isn’t expected to. Did the business.
Earnshaw – 7 – posing aside, he was a real handful.
Subs:
McCleary – 7.5
McGugan – 7.5
Tyson – 7
Merciless Moaner’s Mythering Moment:
I know it was too cold to clap and the sort of weather that literally exterminates elderly people. But if we’ve smashed a team 3-0 all supporters should be forced to stay put until the final whistle. We looked a bit spoiled.
The Tom Finney curtain which Preston brought instead of travelling supporters might as well have been a white flag of surrender.
For the second successive home game we witnessed a trembling opposition step out of our path, doff their caps and usher us merrily on our assent.
Preston’s performance screamed ‘have the points’ and Furious Bill is not in the business of turning down offers like those.
At 0-0 we were sharp, a 1-0 we were decisive, at 2-0 we were obstinately solid. At 3-0 we had one foot in the bath and another stretching for a play-off ticket.
Every time we scored I found myself pondering the screaming mass of swirling red scarves with the same baffled grin.
When will it end? As a Forest fan whose footballing life started in 1998 I know very well that it has to end at some point.
We are destined to be dismal. It’s a fait accompli.
But that is what makes Baying Bill’s conquest so intriguing. He does not care much for our time-honoured rubric of anti-climax and torture.
This man will spit in as many faces as is necessary to clear a path to glory.
His troops are not too shabby either. Waiting impatiently behind the impossibly mobile Adebola and the attention-hungry Earnshaw was Tyson, the division’s fastest player, McGoldrick, a £1m-rated forward, and Blackstock, a notorious marksmen.
Players like Lewis McGugan and Guy Moussi are sweating buckets just to make the bench. Yesteryear stalwarts Luke Chambers and James Perch – indubitable pillars of the Calderwood saga – are scarcely on the radar.
There is hunger, there is belief, there is competition – and there is a damn good manager shouting about it.
I have absolutely no idea if we can sustain this but I compel you all to raise a sherry to Raging Bill on Friday. We are unbeaten in what feels like a decade and Christmas is looking unusually merry.
Ratings
Camp – 6.5 – the television cameras don’t bring out the best in him. I always get the impression he’s looking at them through the corner of his eye.
Gunter – 6.5 – drifted off course once or twice but a solid performance.
Wilson – 7.5 – exceptional again; strides ahead of last season’s standard.
Morgan – 7.5 – unhindered and unphased by anything, including the introduction of Europe’s fattest strikeforce.
Shorey – 7.5 – the cameras were on, the world was watching, and transfer-hungry Shorey gave a guts-and-all performance of the highest standard. He’ll get his move, if it’s what he’s looking for, but I doubt it will be to Nottingham Forest.
Cohen – 6.5 – a lot of graft, but he’s no fan of the wing and it shows.
Majewski – 7.5 – a touch of continental class with the endearing spirit of Polish endeavour.
McKenna – 8 – a screamer of a goal and an almost flawless shift as he ran the midfield.
Adebola – 7 – continues to excel in ways he isn’t expected to. Did the business.
Earnshaw – 7 – posing aside, he was a real handful.
Subs:
McCleary – 7.5
McGugan – 7.5
Tyson – 7
Merciless Moaner’s Mythering Moment:
I know it was too cold to clap and the sort of weather that literally exterminates elderly people. But if we’ve smashed a team 3-0 all supporters should be forced to stay put until the final whistle. We looked a bit spoiled.
Saturday, 5 December 2009
"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
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
Saturday, 28 November 2009
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.
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.
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
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
Very Strange Times at NG2
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.
Thursday, 1 October 2009
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
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
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