is a great science fiction book (it was made into the movie “Blade runner” with Harrison Ford). For some reason it popped into my mind as we crossed the Severn Bridge into Wales and we were confronted by a machine demanding £4.60 off us.
Good news filtered through before the match as we got official confirmation that the referee had not been into the Cardiff dressing room to get Darren Williams’ autograph. We felt there was a decent chance of being allowed to play with eleven men, even if one of our players hit the ball with his foot.
We had our regular back four with Myrhe still in goal. In midfield Carter’s return to Small Heath was fortuitously timed with Robbo’s return from nose-fixing. Whatever you think of the relative prospects of the two players, that is pretty much a like for like enforced change. Arca was back from his one game suspension. Stew was finally dropped – not surprisingly for Brown the younger as Bridges had been struggling with an injury (my spellchecker now has that phrase memorised). Tubby was on the bench (reinforced I hope) for the first time in ages, which was good – although, not to spoil the scintillating excitement of this report too much, he didn’t get on.
We’d been watching the Merseyside derby (go Killa, go) in the Landsdowne, which is probably the nearest pub to the ground that it is safe for away fans to drink. Yet we still missed the kick-off – never say “see you outside” when there are two exits from a pub is the lesson I picked up from this. Don’t you just hate people who get in late? And they always have some really dull excuse – as if you’re bothered – just get in on time yer feckers – and so I will in future. Anyway we took up a position behind a pillar. In hindsight a marginal move either left or right would have seemed to been in order but it never occurred to us at the time. Instead we had repeated conversations of “what happened there?”, “I don’t know – it was behind the pillar”.
Anyway, from the minority of the game not played behind the pillar, I deduced that we were playing our normal game. Soak ‘em up, weigh ‘em up, get ready for the killer blow. Unfortunately we were kicking towards our end first half so we got the best view of the weigh ‘em up stage, which let’s be honest, while stunningly effective is not too heartstopingly exciting. No complaints here mind – it’s doing the business. I’m just amazed at how comfortable we look – particularly when you think how young a lot of the team are.
Second half really more of the same. We were the better team but really neither Elliott nor Brown were looking that close to scoring. Both were replaced – by Stew and Bridges so no change in formation or tactics (well I suppose Stew dropped a bit deeper). Using all four strikers is becoming a habit. I think it is effective as a way of keeping the opposition on their toes but it does mean that none of our strikers is going on a wild goal-scoring spree. Kyle’s return in the next few weeks is going to make things interesting as he is the most “different” of the five strikers and would change our options significantly.
So half way through the second half, we’d finished the weighing and decided to finish the match. Two gorgeous goals. First one the ball came to Deano at the inside left position just outside the box – he let fly and whoosh it was in. The blonde Kilbane thought “I can do that”. A good build up from the left saw Bridges lay off a nice ball for him to move with the ball from roughly where Deano had scored to ten yards right and then unleash a similar whoosh-like shot. We went “hooray” and the Cardiff supporters went “baa”.
Actually I was feeling dead comfortable after that (and usually I spend the 90 minutes in nervous anxiety, whatever the score). But looking back on it Cardiff did have a couple of golden chances to get at least one back. If they’d still had Earnshaw things might have been different. But they didn’t and so they weren’t. Well before the end the Cardiff fans were flocking out (must be a genetic thing – although I was surprised to see a little black and white dog behind them as they went). Always a source of comfort to away fans and teams that (the SoL 80 minute brigade please take note).
Guess who was the last man off the pitch? A round of applause if you got it right. As Dazza clapped us, we clapped back and sang his name. Poor lad – he must have longed to hear that when he was with us. Only other time I can remember us doing it was when he got stretchered off at Mansfied last season in the fizzy drink cup – he actually clapped back while lying on the stretcher! Even when he scored that winner against the mutants (back in that one-off premier season) to give us a chance so stay up (which we of course blew) we didn’t sing for him. Never the most talented player, he undoubtedly went backwards over the last few years from the reasonable promise of his first couple of years (particularly as a centre back with Jody). However, over a period when much more talented players than him disgraced the shirt with their attitude, he was one I can look back on and say “thanks for your efforts Daz – and for the clapping – we took the mickey about it but when you’d travelled hundreds of miles to watch £30k per week players do nowt and then get off the pitch as fast as they could, we appreciated it”.