I could tell from the start how this one was going to go. Sheff U came charging out of the blocks at us, desperate to get an early goal, having seen how much it unsettled us at Plymouth and Reading. But we are brilliant. I know we are – I’ve seen us. So I wasn’t at all worried as they were getting shot after shot on goal. I was always a great Cassius Clay/Mohammed Ali fan. I loved the way he did that “rope a dope” thing where he would lean back on the ropes and let his stupid opponent batter away and tire himself out – then Clay/Ali would step out and whack him to the canvas.
Oh yes, I was confident. Nothing could go wrong with this plan.
After ten minutes of said battering I was thinking “OK lads, any moment now. Step out and the whack. Any time now would be good”. After 45 minutes I was thinking “err, step out – towards us ……….. tackle, dribble, pass, shoot?”. To be fair, we had had one shot on goal – a Jeff Whitely shot from his Northern Ireland scoring position that the goaly did well to tip over the bar. The problem was the thing went as straight as an arrow – just a tiny bit of swerve either left or right and the goaly wouldn’t have go it. I bet Jeff could do that shot a hundred times and he wouldn’t get it to go as straight again once. At the other end, Poom was making more saves than he had to in the pre-match kicky about.
Oh and Breen got sent off (as did one of their men). The ref and I had equally good views of it. Only difference is the ref is a complete arse whereas I am ….. well the referee is a complete arse. I don’t care what the uselss git of a linesman thought he saw, we pay good money to watch 11 men play 11. Why these over-officious gits think we come to see them prance and preen around I don’t know. Anyway I damn well hope the appeal succeeds as the thought of Mr Flappy and a bairn being our central defence is terrifying.
Second half even I had realised we were not Cassisus Clay – more like that big ginger hod carrier who was our No.1 for some time – Dunn I think his name was. We were awful. We’d totally lost the central midfield. I could tell because the defence never, ever passed to them just doing long balls down the wing for Elliott or Brown (or later Johnson) to run on to. A great plan – you could tell that by the fact that nothing ever came of it.
And then the goal. I’d said to some people beforehand that Mick Mac needed to get hold of Caldwell and tell him “we are not at home to Mr Flappy”. Well not only were we at home to Mr Flappy we invited him to stay for the week-end, we’ve loaned him our pipe and slippers and cracked open our best brandy for him. He decided that the best way to deal with a pass to him to clear was to stretch a leg out sideways and fall over. The striker refused to join in the joke and sent in a decent shot that Poom had no chance with. What is it with Caldwell? The mags told us he was a canny player who they were sad to see go. Surely they wouldn’t lie to us? Or maybe having to watch Titus Bramble has meant they no longer have any idea what a centre half is meant to do. Caldwell with Breen in control is just about OK. Caldwell having to be the senior partner alongside Collins or Clark terrifies me.
We never looked like scoring. Having started the match supremely confident, I was again supremely confident – just in the opposite direction.
I’m writing this off as a one-off. I am supremely confident about turning over Derby on Saturday.
