Crap near the Atlantic - 2-1 at Plymouth

Well that was a long way to come for not much fun. Unless I’m missing one we had one, yes one, shot on target. Admittedly we scored from it but even with 100% strike rate we aren’t going to do much on this basis. Too many players just didn’t delver. They got a free kick on the left hand side of the box in the second minute and scored from it. God only knows how. It was down the other end so I’m not sure how it got over the wall, past all the defenders and into the net. Mind you I think I was completely on top of the issue compared to Myrhe. The rest of the first hall didn’t really improve. We had Whitehead and Robinson in central midfield – well I certainly saw them there but their ability to be anonymous was infuriating. Oster was shacking out of everything and Lawrence was doing his best lower division Kilbane impersonation. The defence were trying but still managed to repeat their performance against QPR by opening wide up for an Argyle player to run through for a relatively easy second. Kyle looked like Quinny towards the end of his careeer – head and shoulders above the rest of the team but nacked and so unable to pull the other nine up to his standard. Stewart was scruffy and slow.

In the midst of all of that we had a clear penalty tuned down. Well that’s just the way it is goes. The ref generally had a shite game (they should have had a man sent off but as he’d just booked him a minute earlier he shacked out). Also the linesman down our end was bloody awful – saw offsides left right and centre in the first half and then forgot all about the rule in the second.

Second half we picked up a bit, particularly when Thornton came on – for some reason this prompted Whitehead to start playing. Stewart bizarrely went wide (cos of his pace?) to make way for Elliot. Stew converted a good ball from the left.

We need to pick up from this it just wasn’t good enough. This is a short report as I’m stopping in a hotel in Plymouth and am now shooting off for a mad night of sex and drugs and rock and roll (or beer and curry – see how it goes). I’m in the same hotel as Crabbers, Rowell and Fickling – I could tell you some side-splitting anecdotes about them except I don’t have any.

Bring on Chester (and them take them off).