OLAS 438 April 26th 2008
Get ready for our biggest game of the season. Our cup final. It’s a three horse race now (OK, two donkeys, one mule) and we’re out in front but there are still three games to go. Remember the “team” we quite rightly booed off the pitch last week? Today we’ve got to get behind them big time to help them win the MTM championship 2007-2008. Forget all the negativity. It’s now or never.
MTM? – Mid Table Mediocrity. And battling it out for the coveted 10th spot are the Spuds, Kevin’s calamitous Toon Army and our very own heroes - the Hamstrings.
We’re in pole position – five points ahead of our rivals with nine points at stake. Stuff Newcastle and we can’t be caught, whatever kind of a pasting we get at Old Crapford or against Mad Martin’s Villa who are pretty rampant right now. Though, if we play like we did last week, we’ll lose about 5-0 to Newcastle, which will be embarrassing to say the least.
Of course I can recall booing West Ham off the pitch various times over the years, usually when we’ve thrown away a lead near the end, or when we’ve been totally hammered, but never ever when we’ve won a game. So that was a real first. And Curbs, if you are scraping the barrel looking for achievements from this miserable season, you can honestly say you are the very first West Ham manager to take a winning team off the pitch to the boos of the Upton Park faithful. Marvellous.
I didn’t join in but I don’t condemn those who did. They have my unconditional support. Me - I just felt numb. When I got home from the game and sloped in, my family assumed from my mood and body language that West Ham had lost. And it felt like a defeat because you just couldn’t tell which team had 44 points before the game and which team had 11. If Derby had drawn level or won even, it would not have been an injustice. Derby were totally inadequate but they had spirit. We were just inadequate. And it gave me the willies because it is absolutely clear that unless there is a dramatic change at many levels in the club, then we are going to be the Derby County of next season.
However, I am also experienced enough to know that the only thing that is completely certain about coming to Upton Park is that nothing is certain – so it may be that we will really turn up today, fight for every ball and send them back to Geordieland with a brutal hammering courtesy of a Dean Ashton hat-trick. You heard it here first. Although the key to that happening might be to kidnap Curbishley before he gets the chance to announce that his shining star Boa Morte is in the starting line up.
I’ve got a serious admission to make here, and I hope the OLAS community will show tolerance and understanding. It all happened on a Tuesday night quite early in the season. Every Tuesday I play “Male Mid-Life Crisis Footie” with my companions mainly over 40, some over 50. A few of us go for a beer afterwards where conversation ranges from the maybes of the game we have just played to the music we enjoyed 25 years ago, to current work issues, to our kids, to what’s going on in the football world. It’s a pretty mixed crew – West Ham, Arsenal and Spurs fans, and one holding the torch for the people’s team, Ebbsfleet United (see www.ebbsfleetunited.co.uk - interesting!).
Anyway I got into a stupid discussion about what was going to happen this season. My mate Lu – a Gooner admittedly but a totally sound guy – was absolutely convinced that Newcastle were going to be the team from the middle of the table that would plummet in the second half of the season and get caught up in the relegation scramble with the newly promoted clubs. I disagreed. I fancied Newcastle, however inconsistent they were, to pull off enough results to stay in the middle of the table – winning one week and losing the next. No, Lu was completely convinced they were already heading for meltdown. I said – look West Ham have got points but they are playing the most unimaginative, rubbish football and half the team are crocked by injury. If anyone is sure to plummet, it’s us. And so it went on until, and I don’t quite know how these words exited my mouth, “I’m willing to put money on that West Ham will finish lower than Newcastle,” I said.
I still can’t believe it happened. But I just felt that with occasional exceptions, the points we were stacking up were on the back of almost completely unconvincing performances. We would get found out and Curbishley has nothing else in his drawer. No sooner had the bet been sealed than Newcastle went into crisis, slipped down the league, heading for oblivion, and West Ham continued to stack the points up and beat Man U into the bargain. And then KK returned on a magic carpet to Geordieland. Good for my bet I thought – but first few games Newcastle couldn’t beat anyone.
So that is the story of how, having supported West ham since 1966, I came to bet against my team. The only thing I can plead is that it was a moment of madness and I was suffering deeply under the leaden weight of Curbishleyism – I just couldn’t see a way forward. And to be honest it’s still pretty misty. Am I forgiven?
Today, of course, I want us to smash my bet to smithereens and grab that 10th spot. (And besides, I won three times as much as that silly bet will cost me on this year’s Grand National).
A top half finish might yet enable some gullible top class players from overseas, who want to play in the premiership, to think we are worth a punt. And if we get rid of our gormless leader – and install, preferably, someone alive from the neck upwards, unlike the present incumbent, then, who knows, we might be worth a punt. And the opportunity to finish above Spurs is much too enticing to ignore.
Well today won’t be my only trip east this weekend. Tomorrow I’m going to be in Victoria Park for bit of nostalgia and a bit of serious stuff. There’s a free carnival put on by Love Music Hate Racism to mark the 30th anniversary of the Rock Against Racism/Anti Nazi League carnival in April ’78.
I was there in ‘78 and remember what a turning point it was in the fight for unity among black and white youth and against the poisonous racism and nostalgia for the Third Reich of the National Front. Some of the musicians who turned out that day to nail their mast firmly to anti-racism, will be back alongside the bands that excite young people today. Of course some heroes can’t be there. Joe Strummer – may he rest in peace – has gone to the carnival in the sky, but his spirit lives on. And the serious stuff? Well if we’re not careful the truly dangerous and barking mad dogs of the BNP, or is it the mad BNP dogs of Barking, are going to be turning up as representatives on the London Assembly as regularly as Hayden Mullins does back passes and Lucas Neill is caught out of position. And you can’t get more regular than that.
There was a time in the early 80s when to get to the ground you had to get past the leafleters of the NF giving out their poisonous leaflets on Green Street. When I came to the Portsmouth game I was half-expecting to have to dodge past BNP leafleters preparing for the May election. But instead the people soliciting support around the ground were collecting for AMREF – the African medical and development charity that Nick Bull has been writing about. Quite a turnaround if you look at it in the long historical view. But we can never be complacent about racism and it’s all too easy for people’s grievances to find a racist outlet, especially when the tabloid press eggs them on.
So today I want the claret and blues to put one over the black and whites but tomorrow I want us to remember, as we said in 78, “we are black, we are white, together we are dynamite.”
Monday, 28 April 2008
Monday, 21 April 2008
Writing on the wall
Olas 437 19 April 2008
I’ve always admired pieces of clever graffiti like the one I found gracing the ceiling of a public convenience that said, “I’m sorry did I break your concentration?” Or the cumulative one I saw scrawled on a wall at Liverpool Street station many years ago. Underneath the plaintive comment, “My mum made me a homosexual”, someone had added, “If I gave her the wool can she make me one too?”
Coming out of the “Academy of Football” after the Portsmouth game I had a distinct urge to plaster graffiti over the walls of Upton Park and across Curbishley’s face. The particular slogan I had in mind goes back to the heady days of 1968. I was 10 years old then and enjoying some of the most creative and sparkling football I’ve ever seen at Upton Park as players who had graduated through our academy were giving life and meaning to the unique and profound football philosophy of Ron Greenwood.
Meanwhile in London, Paris and in cities across America, people twice my age in their academies of the time – the universities – were attempting a radical upheaval of their institutions and society in general. In that melting pot of activism the ideas of “Situationism” were all the rage – and one of their ways of popularising their ideas was to write them as boldly as possible on any walls they could find.
One of their best-known slogans was “All Power to the Imagination” – and that was the one that was ringing in my ears after the Portsmouth debacle. I had been looking forward to the Portsmouth game. With just a few games left, here was a chance to pit ourselves against one of the clutch of teams stretching away above us but still within reach.
Portsmouth had played an F A Cup semi final just three days earlier, and had struggled to beat a good championship side. So we were in an excellent position to take advantage of their physical state of exhaustion. Our effort lasted about 20 minutes at most and having not made the breakthrough by then, despite Bobby Z deftly taking the ball round David James, we sat back, ran out of ideas and let Portsmouth who were tired but full of ideas - take control. We were fortunate to be level by the break.
Now I know what I would have said at half time but it seems that all Curbs advised was, “Well played lads. Find somewhere comfortable to sleep for the second half. We need to save ourselves for the big guns. I don’t want to scare you but we’ve got to go to, er, Bolton next Saturday and fuck me, we’ve got Derby after that. It doesn’t get much tougher, so we need to conserve our energy. Anyone need any extra pillows?”
So we stayed asleep, Portsmouth got the goal. They could have had more but I think even they couldn’t be arsed. It was all to easy – like taking candy from a baby or excuses from a Curbishley.
As we left the ground I turned to my mate, repeated my favourite situationist slogan and suggested that instead of the “Academy of Football” the statement epitomising West Ham today, was ‘No Power to the Imagination”. Apparently one of the situationists other lines was “Those who lack imagination cannot imagine what is lacking”. Without doubt that applied not only to Curbs and his sidekick Mervyn, but to pretty much every West Ham player that night, especially Mullins who was trying to snatch back the “crappiest player” award, which had been commandeered by Boa Morte for quite a while now.
The only exception was Robert Green who did everything that was required of him, had no chance with a well-placed goal and took the initiative of running up to the Portsmouth area when we had a corner in injury time.
The front-runners rarely saw the ball as it was usually squandered by the midfield. Scott Parker seemed to be guided by a dodgy satnav bought in Romford Market. He showed his ability to pick up any loose balls and turn round himself in a circle as the inimitable John Moncur used to do, but then he seemed to keep heading backwards rather than forwards.
Behind Parker the defence were playing that stupid “dare you to go forward” game of seeing how many times they can pass the ball across the pitch to each other, while putting it as near to the opposing forwards as possible. In this rather childish game, the one who eventually boots it upfield loses that round and, apparently, if you make a totally accurate upfield pass you’re out the game altogether.
Well, there was no danger of accurate upfield passes against Portsmouth. Following that miserable night, the result at Bolton was so predictable I should have put money on it. Especially with the kind of team we put out. I see that Anton is the latest player to stake a claim that our nickname should change from the Hammers to the Hamstrings. Although the positive side of the latest injury is that it ought to encourage Curbs to play Tomkins for the final games. Good to see Collisson getting a proper run out, though. And hopefully he will also feature in the final games.
I read the West Ham “fans verdict” of the Bolton game in the Observer – and the words that adorned it were “boring”, “negative” and “dross”. To be honest that is what we have put up with for most of the season especially since January. The situationists used to claim that “Our hope can come only from the hopeless” – Well I for one am hoping that is not the case.
Last time round I described the positive hope that we rightly have in the youth at the club and Gary is absolutely right to laud the work of Tony Carr. But we have also got to give those young players some hope or we know where they will be heading in a couple of years. That means having high quality, motivated players around them. The current squad don’t fit that bill by miles.
It seems like the club has taken a step in the right direction with the appointment of Nani – someone who ought to know his onions about the best players on the continent. Hopefully, over the summer, we will bring at least a couple of quality players in- maybe more. At the same time, as Johnny B wrote last issue, the financial squeeze is on our owners. So if we’re going to buy we are also going to need to sell. Without any hesitation these are the individuals I would put up for sale at the end of the season:
Lucas Neill, Freddie Ljungberg, Hayden Mullins, Jonathan Spector, Nigel Quashie, Lee Bowyer, Luis Boa Morte, and Alan Curbishley. In the case of Boa Morte we should even be willing to consider paying someone to take him.
With a little bit of hesitation I would be tempted to send Matthew Etherington, Carlton Cole, and Danny Gabbidon along to the departure lounge too.
I wouldn’t sell our pairs of crutches or sets of plaster casts though, as we may well need them.
And so to Derby. Let’s take a look at the objective facts. They have 11points from 34 games and have not won away from home all season. They have let in 74 goals including the six that Villa put past them last weekend and the five that we put past them in November. You can just imagine Curbishley’s game plan. “Let’s go 4-5-1 and don’t take any risks.”
Well, Alan, I’ll give you one more Situationist pearl of wisdom:
“The prospect of finding pleasure tomorrow will never compensate for today’s boredom.”
So sort it. The only acceptable result today is a convincing win. Anything less and I’m afraid it is time for you to accept that the writing is on the wall.
I’ve always admired pieces of clever graffiti like the one I found gracing the ceiling of a public convenience that said, “I’m sorry did I break your concentration?” Or the cumulative one I saw scrawled on a wall at Liverpool Street station many years ago. Underneath the plaintive comment, “My mum made me a homosexual”, someone had added, “If I gave her the wool can she make me one too?”
Coming out of the “Academy of Football” after the Portsmouth game I had a distinct urge to plaster graffiti over the walls of Upton Park and across Curbishley’s face. The particular slogan I had in mind goes back to the heady days of 1968. I was 10 years old then and enjoying some of the most creative and sparkling football I’ve ever seen at Upton Park as players who had graduated through our academy were giving life and meaning to the unique and profound football philosophy of Ron Greenwood.
Meanwhile in London, Paris and in cities across America, people twice my age in their academies of the time – the universities – were attempting a radical upheaval of their institutions and society in general. In that melting pot of activism the ideas of “Situationism” were all the rage – and one of their ways of popularising their ideas was to write them as boldly as possible on any walls they could find.
One of their best-known slogans was “All Power to the Imagination” – and that was the one that was ringing in my ears after the Portsmouth debacle. I had been looking forward to the Portsmouth game. With just a few games left, here was a chance to pit ourselves against one of the clutch of teams stretching away above us but still within reach.
Portsmouth had played an F A Cup semi final just three days earlier, and had struggled to beat a good championship side. So we were in an excellent position to take advantage of their physical state of exhaustion. Our effort lasted about 20 minutes at most and having not made the breakthrough by then, despite Bobby Z deftly taking the ball round David James, we sat back, ran out of ideas and let Portsmouth who were tired but full of ideas - take control. We were fortunate to be level by the break.
Now I know what I would have said at half time but it seems that all Curbs advised was, “Well played lads. Find somewhere comfortable to sleep for the second half. We need to save ourselves for the big guns. I don’t want to scare you but we’ve got to go to, er, Bolton next Saturday and fuck me, we’ve got Derby after that. It doesn’t get much tougher, so we need to conserve our energy. Anyone need any extra pillows?”
So we stayed asleep, Portsmouth got the goal. They could have had more but I think even they couldn’t be arsed. It was all to easy – like taking candy from a baby or excuses from a Curbishley.
As we left the ground I turned to my mate, repeated my favourite situationist slogan and suggested that instead of the “Academy of Football” the statement epitomising West Ham today, was ‘No Power to the Imagination”. Apparently one of the situationists other lines was “Those who lack imagination cannot imagine what is lacking”. Without doubt that applied not only to Curbs and his sidekick Mervyn, but to pretty much every West Ham player that night, especially Mullins who was trying to snatch back the “crappiest player” award, which had been commandeered by Boa Morte for quite a while now.
The only exception was Robert Green who did everything that was required of him, had no chance with a well-placed goal and took the initiative of running up to the Portsmouth area when we had a corner in injury time.
The front-runners rarely saw the ball as it was usually squandered by the midfield. Scott Parker seemed to be guided by a dodgy satnav bought in Romford Market. He showed his ability to pick up any loose balls and turn round himself in a circle as the inimitable John Moncur used to do, but then he seemed to keep heading backwards rather than forwards.
Behind Parker the defence were playing that stupid “dare you to go forward” game of seeing how many times they can pass the ball across the pitch to each other, while putting it as near to the opposing forwards as possible. In this rather childish game, the one who eventually boots it upfield loses that round and, apparently, if you make a totally accurate upfield pass you’re out the game altogether.
Well, there was no danger of accurate upfield passes against Portsmouth. Following that miserable night, the result at Bolton was so predictable I should have put money on it. Especially with the kind of team we put out. I see that Anton is the latest player to stake a claim that our nickname should change from the Hammers to the Hamstrings. Although the positive side of the latest injury is that it ought to encourage Curbs to play Tomkins for the final games. Good to see Collisson getting a proper run out, though. And hopefully he will also feature in the final games.
I read the West Ham “fans verdict” of the Bolton game in the Observer – and the words that adorned it were “boring”, “negative” and “dross”. To be honest that is what we have put up with for most of the season especially since January. The situationists used to claim that “Our hope can come only from the hopeless” – Well I for one am hoping that is not the case.
Last time round I described the positive hope that we rightly have in the youth at the club and Gary is absolutely right to laud the work of Tony Carr. But we have also got to give those young players some hope or we know where they will be heading in a couple of years. That means having high quality, motivated players around them. The current squad don’t fit that bill by miles.
It seems like the club has taken a step in the right direction with the appointment of Nani – someone who ought to know his onions about the best players on the continent. Hopefully, over the summer, we will bring at least a couple of quality players in- maybe more. At the same time, as Johnny B wrote last issue, the financial squeeze is on our owners. So if we’re going to buy we are also going to need to sell. Without any hesitation these are the individuals I would put up for sale at the end of the season:
Lucas Neill, Freddie Ljungberg, Hayden Mullins, Jonathan Spector, Nigel Quashie, Lee Bowyer, Luis Boa Morte, and Alan Curbishley. In the case of Boa Morte we should even be willing to consider paying someone to take him.
With a little bit of hesitation I would be tempted to send Matthew Etherington, Carlton Cole, and Danny Gabbidon along to the departure lounge too.
I wouldn’t sell our pairs of crutches or sets of plaster casts though, as we may well need them.
And so to Derby. Let’s take a look at the objective facts. They have 11points from 34 games and have not won away from home all season. They have let in 74 goals including the six that Villa put past them last weekend and the five that we put past them in November. You can just imagine Curbishley’s game plan. “Let’s go 4-5-1 and don’t take any risks.”
Well, Alan, I’ll give you one more Situationist pearl of wisdom:
“The prospect of finding pleasure tomorrow will never compensate for today’s boredom.”
So sort it. The only acceptable result today is a convincing win. Anything less and I’m afraid it is time for you to accept that the writing is on the wall.
Friday, 11 April 2008
Chinese Whispers
OLAS 436 April 8th 2008
I’ve heard a rumour that Alan Curbishley has discarded his copy of “How to Win Friends and Influence People” and started instead to flick through OLAS for his nighttime reading. For weeks and weeks I have been just one of many OLAS scribes telling Curbishley to start playing the youth team prospects. And he’s finally taken notice. Freddie Sears and James Tomkins have been given the nod and grasped the opportunity with both hands (and feet) and it seems that Jack Collison will find himself in the action before long – who knows, maybe tonight?
On the other had, given that China is all over the news these days, it might not be OLAS at all. Perhaps Curbs has been reading the works of Chairman Mao, and stumbled across the old leader’s words in a mass rally to the youth during the cultural revolution:
"The world is yours, as well as ours, but in the last analysis, it is yours. You young people, full of vigour and vitality, are in the bloom of life, like the sun at eight or nine in the morning. Our hope is placed on you."
I should point out that’s ‘the sun’ not “The Sun” at 8 in the morning, by the way.
My friend Ian, who makes a living as a “Socialist Conjuror” among other things, used to include a line about Chairman Mao in his shows. He would proclaim to the audience “This is the very trick that I once performed for Chairman Mao. Well, he said he was Chairman Mao. Well, what he said was, if you’re a magician…”
Meanwhile, the young ones are doing us proud. I couldn’t get to the Blackburn game but I found myself on one of the West Ham websites an hour into the match and everyone was writing in saying it was 1-1, there’s half an our left, he’s going to bring on Freddie Sears and we’ll win 2-1. So many punters were absolutely sure of it. But I don’t think any of them would have reckoned on him taking his goal as spectacularly as he did, diving to follow up the goalie’s parry, with a brave header.
I had heard rave reports of Freddie over the last year and all the goals he’s been bagging for the youths and reserve teams, but had not had an opportunity to see what he can do. What I’ve seen in recent games has been really impressive. He’s been likened to Tony Cottee, which is no bad thing. To me he also has something of Jermaine Defoe about him – quick, powerful and alert with a real scent for goals (but hopefully without the urge to bite other players). And although they’ve only just begun to play together, he seems to work really well with Deano. A truly effective Little and (very) Large combination! Deano really seems to enjoy playing alongside him. And wasn’t it great to see Deano taking a real top-notch striker’s goal against Everton with real panache. He was unlucky not to make it three in three games, against Sunderland, with that clever placed shot that beat the goalie but bounced back of the post.
At Everton, James Tomkins at the back couldn’t have had a more eventful first 10 minutes against one of the country’s top teams, on their patch. Early on he ran up for a corner and smacked a header against the bar. Back down the other end, though, his lack of experience told against Yakubu whose clinical finish proved that in the premiership there are no second chances.
Yet, far from his error undermining him, he played the rest of the 90 minutes with determination and growing confidence. In true West Ham style he played the ball out of the area several times instead of just hoofing it. And just as Freddie Sears had Deano supporting and encouraging him, so Tomkins had Anton back to his best alongside him. I had written previously that bringing the youth players in would have a galvanizing effect on some of our more complacent stars weighed down by their wage packets – and so far that seems to be true. The performances against Blackburn and Everton were a massive improvement. Having said that, after you lose 4-0 three times in a row the only is up.
Still, it did the trick for Rob Green. He’s been banging at the England door with terrific performances between the posts this year and last year. He just hadn’t cottoned on that by letting in 12 goals in three games he would finally get noticed. So, thanks Chelsea, Liverpool and Spurs. Funny old game. And now that he’s been called up it proves that he’s not going to have to be playing for the Arse to get chosen. Of course the only flaw in this logic is that Ribonson has just let in four at Spurs against one of the crappiest teams in the league. That might keep him ahead of Greenie.
Now what about Portsmouth then? Well I like them, and I still love Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Redknapp on the wing, on the wing. Nearly 40 years ago – 68-69 season Harry was sensational down the wing. So many goals came from his darting runs and pinpoint crosses. Everyone said he couldn’t shoot but I remember two volleyed goals he got that year, one low from the edge of the box in a 4-0 drubbing of West Brom and one sensational net-burster – the winning goal in a 4-3 victory against QPR. As a manager here he had his ups and downs. He made many good decisions and some bad ones, but considering how dreary things are now I Iook back on his days in charge as golden days when we played exciting football and could upset the big guns. The icing on the cake was when he led us to that FA cup victory at Old Trafford.
Portsmouth back then were small fry. Today, though, are sitting where we should be. Without the wealth and institutional power of the big four, they are four places and nine points above us, pushing hard for a European place in both the league and the cup. They fear no one.
We’ve shown attacking flair on the road but Portsmouth can match this. They have won eight times away from home this season. They play fast attacking football and, on the whole, they have bought in exciting, talented players who have knees that work and can move without crutches. Even their older players are not quite ready for the donkey sanctuary like some of ours are. They are still motivated and still trying to prove something. Not surprisingly they have scored eleven more goals than we have.
Granted, Harry may not be a better looker than Curbs but he’s got ambition, personality and a sense of humour. I tend to judge people by the “airport lounge” test. I imagine being on a long-haul flight that has had to cut its journey short in some god-forsaken place. The connecting flight is 10 hours away and I’ve got to while away that time chatting in a spartan airport lounge to my neighbour on the flight. If it was Curbs, I know that within 10 minutes we’d be looking at each other with nothing to say. But Harry – well, even after 10 hours, we’d still be chatting and laughing.
In his autobiography I loved his line about one of his flutters a few years back. He put money on West Ham to win the cup and Dana International – the transsexual Israeli singer – to win the Eurovision song contest. He described it as the ultimate each-way bet! (But only one of them came off)
I will cheer him when he comes back home today, and David James and Glen Johnson. As for Jermaine – in the humanity stakes he’s definitely a bit of a **** but as a footballer he’s top class. And if Freddie Sears gets anywhere near his level of play in the coming years, and Tomkins and Collison meet their potential than we can look forward with hope.
Or as Chairman Mao said: “The future is bright and no one can change this general trend of history. Come on you Irons!” Well, he said he was Chairman Mao…well, actually, he said, “if that’s a genuine quote…”
I’ve heard a rumour that Alan Curbishley has discarded his copy of “How to Win Friends and Influence People” and started instead to flick through OLAS for his nighttime reading. For weeks and weeks I have been just one of many OLAS scribes telling Curbishley to start playing the youth team prospects. And he’s finally taken notice. Freddie Sears and James Tomkins have been given the nod and grasped the opportunity with both hands (and feet) and it seems that Jack Collison will find himself in the action before long – who knows, maybe tonight?
On the other had, given that China is all over the news these days, it might not be OLAS at all. Perhaps Curbs has been reading the works of Chairman Mao, and stumbled across the old leader’s words in a mass rally to the youth during the cultural revolution:
"The world is yours, as well as ours, but in the last analysis, it is yours. You young people, full of vigour and vitality, are in the bloom of life, like the sun at eight or nine in the morning. Our hope is placed on you."
I should point out that’s ‘the sun’ not “The Sun” at 8 in the morning, by the way.
My friend Ian, who makes a living as a “Socialist Conjuror” among other things, used to include a line about Chairman Mao in his shows. He would proclaim to the audience “This is the very trick that I once performed for Chairman Mao. Well, he said he was Chairman Mao. Well, what he said was, if you’re a magician…”
Meanwhile, the young ones are doing us proud. I couldn’t get to the Blackburn game but I found myself on one of the West Ham websites an hour into the match and everyone was writing in saying it was 1-1, there’s half an our left, he’s going to bring on Freddie Sears and we’ll win 2-1. So many punters were absolutely sure of it. But I don’t think any of them would have reckoned on him taking his goal as spectacularly as he did, diving to follow up the goalie’s parry, with a brave header.
I had heard rave reports of Freddie over the last year and all the goals he’s been bagging for the youths and reserve teams, but had not had an opportunity to see what he can do. What I’ve seen in recent games has been really impressive. He’s been likened to Tony Cottee, which is no bad thing. To me he also has something of Jermaine Defoe about him – quick, powerful and alert with a real scent for goals (but hopefully without the urge to bite other players). And although they’ve only just begun to play together, he seems to work really well with Deano. A truly effective Little and (very) Large combination! Deano really seems to enjoy playing alongside him. And wasn’t it great to see Deano taking a real top-notch striker’s goal against Everton with real panache. He was unlucky not to make it three in three games, against Sunderland, with that clever placed shot that beat the goalie but bounced back of the post.
At Everton, James Tomkins at the back couldn’t have had a more eventful first 10 minutes against one of the country’s top teams, on their patch. Early on he ran up for a corner and smacked a header against the bar. Back down the other end, though, his lack of experience told against Yakubu whose clinical finish proved that in the premiership there are no second chances.
Yet, far from his error undermining him, he played the rest of the 90 minutes with determination and growing confidence. In true West Ham style he played the ball out of the area several times instead of just hoofing it. And just as Freddie Sears had Deano supporting and encouraging him, so Tomkins had Anton back to his best alongside him. I had written previously that bringing the youth players in would have a galvanizing effect on some of our more complacent stars weighed down by their wage packets – and so far that seems to be true. The performances against Blackburn and Everton were a massive improvement. Having said that, after you lose 4-0 three times in a row the only is up.
Still, it did the trick for Rob Green. He’s been banging at the England door with terrific performances between the posts this year and last year. He just hadn’t cottoned on that by letting in 12 goals in three games he would finally get noticed. So, thanks Chelsea, Liverpool and Spurs. Funny old game. And now that he’s been called up it proves that he’s not going to have to be playing for the Arse to get chosen. Of course the only flaw in this logic is that Ribonson has just let in four at Spurs against one of the crappiest teams in the league. That might keep him ahead of Greenie.
Now what about Portsmouth then? Well I like them, and I still love Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Redknapp on the wing, on the wing. Nearly 40 years ago – 68-69 season Harry was sensational down the wing. So many goals came from his darting runs and pinpoint crosses. Everyone said he couldn’t shoot but I remember two volleyed goals he got that year, one low from the edge of the box in a 4-0 drubbing of West Brom and one sensational net-burster – the winning goal in a 4-3 victory against QPR. As a manager here he had his ups and downs. He made many good decisions and some bad ones, but considering how dreary things are now I Iook back on his days in charge as golden days when we played exciting football and could upset the big guns. The icing on the cake was when he led us to that FA cup victory at Old Trafford.
Portsmouth back then were small fry. Today, though, are sitting where we should be. Without the wealth and institutional power of the big four, they are four places and nine points above us, pushing hard for a European place in both the league and the cup. They fear no one.
We’ve shown attacking flair on the road but Portsmouth can match this. They have won eight times away from home this season. They play fast attacking football and, on the whole, they have bought in exciting, talented players who have knees that work and can move without crutches. Even their older players are not quite ready for the donkey sanctuary like some of ours are. They are still motivated and still trying to prove something. Not surprisingly they have scored eleven more goals than we have.
Granted, Harry may not be a better looker than Curbs but he’s got ambition, personality and a sense of humour. I tend to judge people by the “airport lounge” test. I imagine being on a long-haul flight that has had to cut its journey short in some god-forsaken place. The connecting flight is 10 hours away and I’ve got to while away that time chatting in a spartan airport lounge to my neighbour on the flight. If it was Curbs, I know that within 10 minutes we’d be looking at each other with nothing to say. But Harry – well, even after 10 hours, we’d still be chatting and laughing.
In his autobiography I loved his line about one of his flutters a few years back. He put money on West Ham to win the cup and Dana International – the transsexual Israeli singer – to win the Eurovision song contest. He described it as the ultimate each-way bet! (But only one of them came off)
I will cheer him when he comes back home today, and David James and Glen Johnson. As for Jermaine – in the humanity stakes he’s definitely a bit of a **** but as a footballer he’s top class. And if Freddie Sears gets anywhere near his level of play in the coming years, and Tomkins and Collison meet their potential than we can look forward with hope.
Or as Chairman Mao said: “The future is bright and no one can change this general trend of history. Come on you Irons!” Well, he said he was Chairman Mao…well, actually, he said, “if that’s a genuine quote…”
Wilde Thing
OLAS 435 MARCH 15TH 2008
OK, I’m paraphrasing, but I suspect that Oscar Wilde, if he was alive today, would have commented: “To lose one game by four goals may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose two looks like carelessness; and to lose three games by four goals can only mean that you are playing like total tossrags.”
His quotes are undoubtedly very clever. I found one where he seems to be talking to Alan Curbishley at first about his approach to football but then switches to a comment on Luis Boa Morte’s inimitable style:
“It is better to be beautiful than to be good. But... it is better to be good than to be ugly.”
His one actual known quote about the beautiful game is: “Football is a game for rough girls not suitable for delicate boys”. And it’s certainly the case that our delicate boys have been struggling lately.
If we are brutally honest, we’ve been struggling since the new year. In 12 games in 2008 the players can only be proud of their performance in two of them – away to Man City in the league, where we were very unlucky to come away with only one point, after playing them off the park but finding their goalie in terrific form; and at home to Liverpool where a steely performance of total commitment, and a determination to out-do Liverpool at their own passing game on the ground, was handsomely rewarded in the final seconds of injury time.
The other performances in 2008 have been variously lacklustre, flaky, indifferent or mediocre. It is 10 games since we have scored two goals in one game – a less than impressive 2-1 victory over Fulham. And in that time we have scraped the odd point in games we really deserved to lose.
Some of the most obvious reasons have been rehearsed several times by OLAS contributors. You all know where I stand on Curbishley and his (lack of) ability to manage and motivate. Many of us have also had to commit the heresy of acknowledging that Deano either has deep psychological problems or he is just may not be the player we thought he was or would become. I’m not prepared to give up on him yet and still think he has massive potential but as we approach the tail end of the season we are getting close to the tipping point with him. Isn’t is ironic that at this moment in time Marlon Harewood seems like the one that’s got away?
I suspect though that the real issues go much deeper and have a lot to do with the craziness that surrounded and infected the club last season. Our success in 2005-2006 under Pardew gave us great hope but seemed to alert the football vultures. A young team with a forward looking manager had achieved remarkably well in their first season back among the big boys and come within a whisker of winning the Cup Final. Instead of collective decisions and careful investment to build on this very promising situation, a few people running the club were dazzled by what might be in it for them personally.
The transparently dodgy deal for the two Argentineans clearly undermined the whole team and the manager. I have great admiration for Mascherano and Tevez as immensely talented footballers – they were just pawns in this whole exercise – but the domino effect was devastating.
We alienated several players of real potential, lost an intelligent manager who was struggling against forces bigger than he could handle, and got lumbered with a completely uninspiring “yes man” to the new regime.
In football these days, when things go terribly wrong you don’t have a lot of time to repair them. Someone (and it might have been me) once said, “Every problem has a solution but every solution has a problem”. We are now suffering the full effects of the “solution” that was hurriedly found in the January 2007 transfer window. Silly money was paid to gain the services of average players at the kind of wages that inevitably caused resentment among the existing team. And a failure to show any imagination or determination in subsequent transfer windows means that many average players don’t have to work to earn their place in the team – they have little or no competition for their positions.
The final quarter of last season was a mirage, ultimately a pleasant mirage – but a mirage nevertheless. For some players it was West Ham pride that did it, for others it was fear of championship league obscurity but we all know that the team finally pulled out the stops to stage a miracle recovery. That was of course also due to the remarkable talents and form of Carlos Tevez, but the underlying problems have been allowed to fester and now they are only too apparent.
So where do we go from here? Fortunately our league status is not at risk, because I don’t see us picking up too many more points this year. There are enough poor teams below us to ensure that, at worst, we are likely to finish 12th or 13th. We need to find out well before the beginning for next season who is here because they want to be, and who is here for the ride. And we need to make a judgement who is here on merit and who is here because they face no competition.
• We need to make a commitment now to reassessing the wage structure of the club at the end of the season to make it more transparent and fair. That’s one way to find out who wants to be here.
• We need to be planning now to replace Curbishley with an intelligent and progressive manager with wide horizons and a long-term vision. If that causes too much of a problem of losing face then move him upstairs and give him a fancy title but as little responsibility as possible. And certainly don’t put him in front of a TV camera.
• Make sure that a new manager/management team is in place early enough to make a difference in the summer transfer window.
• Start to play our most promising youngsters now. Bring them on as substitutes and give them the occasional 90 minutes this season. Don’t wait until next season to give them experience. Why do you think Arsenals’ youngsters progress so quickly?
• Show Dean Ashton the video of Kayode Odejayi leaping to score the winner for Barnsley against Chelski. It was an object lesson in when to jump, how to jump and what to do with the ball when you make contact.
• Show the rest of the team a video of Martin Devaney putting over the type of cross that strikers need. We’ve hardly done that all season.
• Make an appointment for Luis Boa Morte to see a careers advisor. My recommendation is that his next move should not be within football.
And so to the game with Blackburn today. Our win up there in December was one of our better performances and our match winner was Dean Ashton. It would be nice to repeat that today. If our heroes can see or feel anything beyond their wage packets they might sense that they owe us something.
Keep smiling – as Oscar Wilde noted, “Illusion is the first of all pleasures.”
OK, I’m paraphrasing, but I suspect that Oscar Wilde, if he was alive today, would have commented: “To lose one game by four goals may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose two looks like carelessness; and to lose three games by four goals can only mean that you are playing like total tossrags.”
His quotes are undoubtedly very clever. I found one where he seems to be talking to Alan Curbishley at first about his approach to football but then switches to a comment on Luis Boa Morte’s inimitable style:
“It is better to be beautiful than to be good. But... it is better to be good than to be ugly.”
His one actual known quote about the beautiful game is: “Football is a game for rough girls not suitable for delicate boys”. And it’s certainly the case that our delicate boys have been struggling lately.
If we are brutally honest, we’ve been struggling since the new year. In 12 games in 2008 the players can only be proud of their performance in two of them – away to Man City in the league, where we were very unlucky to come away with only one point, after playing them off the park but finding their goalie in terrific form; and at home to Liverpool where a steely performance of total commitment, and a determination to out-do Liverpool at their own passing game on the ground, was handsomely rewarded in the final seconds of injury time.
The other performances in 2008 have been variously lacklustre, flaky, indifferent or mediocre. It is 10 games since we have scored two goals in one game – a less than impressive 2-1 victory over Fulham. And in that time we have scraped the odd point in games we really deserved to lose.
Some of the most obvious reasons have been rehearsed several times by OLAS contributors. You all know where I stand on Curbishley and his (lack of) ability to manage and motivate. Many of us have also had to commit the heresy of acknowledging that Deano either has deep psychological problems or he is just may not be the player we thought he was or would become. I’m not prepared to give up on him yet and still think he has massive potential but as we approach the tail end of the season we are getting close to the tipping point with him. Isn’t is ironic that at this moment in time Marlon Harewood seems like the one that’s got away?
I suspect though that the real issues go much deeper and have a lot to do with the craziness that surrounded and infected the club last season. Our success in 2005-2006 under Pardew gave us great hope but seemed to alert the football vultures. A young team with a forward looking manager had achieved remarkably well in their first season back among the big boys and come within a whisker of winning the Cup Final. Instead of collective decisions and careful investment to build on this very promising situation, a few people running the club were dazzled by what might be in it for them personally.
The transparently dodgy deal for the two Argentineans clearly undermined the whole team and the manager. I have great admiration for Mascherano and Tevez as immensely talented footballers – they were just pawns in this whole exercise – but the domino effect was devastating.
We alienated several players of real potential, lost an intelligent manager who was struggling against forces bigger than he could handle, and got lumbered with a completely uninspiring “yes man” to the new regime.
In football these days, when things go terribly wrong you don’t have a lot of time to repair them. Someone (and it might have been me) once said, “Every problem has a solution but every solution has a problem”. We are now suffering the full effects of the “solution” that was hurriedly found in the January 2007 transfer window. Silly money was paid to gain the services of average players at the kind of wages that inevitably caused resentment among the existing team. And a failure to show any imagination or determination in subsequent transfer windows means that many average players don’t have to work to earn their place in the team – they have little or no competition for their positions.
The final quarter of last season was a mirage, ultimately a pleasant mirage – but a mirage nevertheless. For some players it was West Ham pride that did it, for others it was fear of championship league obscurity but we all know that the team finally pulled out the stops to stage a miracle recovery. That was of course also due to the remarkable talents and form of Carlos Tevez, but the underlying problems have been allowed to fester and now they are only too apparent.
So where do we go from here? Fortunately our league status is not at risk, because I don’t see us picking up too many more points this year. There are enough poor teams below us to ensure that, at worst, we are likely to finish 12th or 13th. We need to find out well before the beginning for next season who is here because they want to be, and who is here for the ride. And we need to make a judgement who is here on merit and who is here because they face no competition.
• We need to make a commitment now to reassessing the wage structure of the club at the end of the season to make it more transparent and fair. That’s one way to find out who wants to be here.
• We need to be planning now to replace Curbishley with an intelligent and progressive manager with wide horizons and a long-term vision. If that causes too much of a problem of losing face then move him upstairs and give him a fancy title but as little responsibility as possible. And certainly don’t put him in front of a TV camera.
• Make sure that a new manager/management team is in place early enough to make a difference in the summer transfer window.
• Start to play our most promising youngsters now. Bring them on as substitutes and give them the occasional 90 minutes this season. Don’t wait until next season to give them experience. Why do you think Arsenals’ youngsters progress so quickly?
• Show Dean Ashton the video of Kayode Odejayi leaping to score the winner for Barnsley against Chelski. It was an object lesson in when to jump, how to jump and what to do with the ball when you make contact.
• Show the rest of the team a video of Martin Devaney putting over the type of cross that strikers need. We’ve hardly done that all season.
• Make an appointment for Luis Boa Morte to see a careers advisor. My recommendation is that his next move should not be within football.
And so to the game with Blackburn today. Our win up there in December was one of our better performances and our match winner was Dean Ashton. It would be nice to repeat that today. If our heroes can see or feel anything beyond their wage packets they might sense that they owe us something.
Keep smiling – as Oscar Wilde noted, “Illusion is the first of all pleasures.”
Whatever Happened to Our Working Class Ballet?
OLAS 434 MARCH 1st 2008
Don’t even think about it. It’s not big and it’s not clever. So if any of you were planning to dress as a big tub of lard in a blue shirt with “Frank” on the back today, just put it away and forget it because...
“It is illegal to impersonate a Chelsea Pensioner”
Apparently, in the 19th century it was a capital offence.
Seeing as we’re welcoming the Chelsea pensioners to Upton Park today and knowing what the law says about them I thought I ought to check up some other bizarre laws. You’ll be surprised how many of them relate to coppers. For instance: a pregnant woman can legally relieve herself anywhere she wants – even, if she so requests, in a policeman’s helmet, while in France, it is forbidden to call a pig Napoleon. In Kingsville, Texas, USA, it is against the law for pigs to have sex on airport property. And pigs may fly before anyone gets round to sorting out that strange bit of legislation.
But my favourite bizarre law comes from Zion, Illinois, USA, where it is still illegal to offer cigars to your pets. (My cats prefer a pint and a packet of nuts, as it happens). I don’t know whether out in Illinois they have any of those institutions like we have here, where beagles are mistreated, but you could imagine the conversation, couldn’t you?
American: “Now, howdy there doggy, can I git you anything to put in you mouth?”
Beagle: “No thanks, buddy, I’ve got another 50 fags to smoke this morning. Woof.”
American: “Have you ever tried smoking a nice big cigaaaah?”
Beagle: “Hey buddy, have you ever tried hangin’ out in a state penitentiary?”
So the Chelsea Flower Show is here today. Who’s going to come up smelling of roses and who’s going to end up in the Eartha Kitt? The Universal Laws of West Ham Attitude point to a close contest. We play absolute shite against teams who are absolute shite (of which Wigan and Birmingham are only the end of a long string of examples) but raise our game against top class opponents, as Manure and the Arse discovered at home and away last year, and as Manure and Liverpool have both found to their cost at what can hardly be called “Fortress Upton Park” this year. You cannot mess with the Universal Laws of West Ham Attitude.
We don’t seem to beat Chelsea that often so I hope you won’t mind if I indulge in a bit of nostalgia from the season we all want to forget. And in case you’ve forgotten, that was 2002-3, when we managed to take a set of outstanding players into the fizzy pop league and sell them off one by one until we had almost no one left.
There weren’t too many highlights that year but the games against Chelsea stood out. I rarely get to away games, but that year I had two kids in the class that I was teaching at school whose dads were regulars at Chelsea. Which makes a sort of pleasant change from all the Gooners in Islington where I work. Anyway they kindly took me along as their guest to the first encounter at the end of September. They were laughing over drinks before the game and must have thought they were on to a winner. Chelsea were riding high and West Ham were propping up the table having gained just two points from their first 6 games.
You would never have guessed that we were the underdogs though. West Ham took the game to Chelsea from the kick-off, hardly even distracted by having to replace the injured Freddie Kanoute, very early on, with that eager beaver/mercenary bastard, Jermaine Defoe. Chelsea had their goalie to thank for keeping them in the game before they went ahead against the run of play with a penalty, given against one of our crappiest defenders ever, Scott Minto. Despite that setback, West Ham continued to dominate and Defoe had made it 1-1 before the break.
Three minutes after half time came a completely unforgettable moment. All the Chelsea faithful, the Queen and David Mellor among them no doubt, were still picking at their prawn sandwiches when West Ham won a throw-in about thirty yards out on the right touchline. It was directly in line with where I was sitting with my Chelsea hosts just a few rows back. Paulo di Canio received the ball from the throw, juggled it from one foot to the other and back again, and then unleashed an unstoppable dipping volley past Cudicini. Pandemonium along the West Ham side of the ground. Gasps of horror and “f*** me!” from the Chelsea fans. Deep-inner pandemonium for me sitting amongst a swathe of the blue tossers.
Being West Ham, we let Chelsea have another crack when Zola got a neat goal, but di Canio, the hero of the day, grabbed the points with a careful shot from an acute angle with 6 minutes to go. A well-deserved win at what is not usually one of our happy hunting grounds.
By the time Chelsea came for the return fixture, we had climbed all the way to 18th in the table, or like Groucho Marx once said: “I’ve worked my way up from nothing to absolute poverty.” Our manager Glenn Rodent was recovering in hospital from a brain operation/personality transplant or something like that, and our secret weapon was standing on the touch line in a dark suit – or should I say standin’? Because it was Trevor Brookin’ (who never knowin’ly lets his lips pronounce that final “g”, and why should he? I’m only askin’).
The odds against us catching the teams above and staying up were pretty steep. But, in his short spell as caretaker (or very smartly dressed caretaker) Trevor had instilled a bit of pride and belief into a battered team that had been failing miserably and turning against each other. Di Canio, the hero in the game at Chelsea, hadn’t played for two and half months. He had an almighty falling out with the Rodent (telling him that he didn’t know what he was doing – though one of the defences against slander is “telling the truth”). He had also had a niggling injury that had taken him out of the reckoning for a few games, but Trevor gave him some TLC and put him on the bench for the return fixture.
The normally careful, cautious and conservative Trevor had opted to play three up front – Kanoute, Defoe and, blimey, Les f****** Ferdinand! Chelsea needed the points as much as we did as they were chasing a champions League place. But it was one of those dramas where we all knew the script.
West Ham played out of their skins, with Trevor Sinclair in particular, playing an absolute blinder, but they just couldn’t apply that finishing touch. Chelsea were rattled, always second to the ball, but looked dangerous every time they did manage to come forward. Our defence which had been leaking goals like diarrhoea all season, dealt with them magnificently. Brookin’ knew he needed some new legs for the final third of the game. So he brings on Di Canio who scores the winner with twenty minutes to go. Di Canio rips off his shirt and throws it to the sky, heads for the corner flag and shakes his fists. Upton Park erupts in a way as only it can, and in a way that I’m sure that some boring, modern, generic 60,000 seater stadium, on an old Parcel Force site, never ever will.
You can all probably think of so many times when West Ham make you want to scream or cry in frustration, but that day there were real tears of emotion in the final moments, with the crowd singing “One Trveor Brookin’, there’s only one Trevor Brookin’…” – which is true as well as being appropriate. There may be at least two and a half Frankie Lampards, but knock me down with a feather, there is only one Clever Trevor. We were the only team to do the double over Chelsea that year – a great achievement though it wasn’t enough to keep us up with the Big Boys.
That day, our supersub included, we had 12 heroes out there. They battled and battled but also had the vision and creativity to carve out the chances – with stars like di Canio, Defoe, Sinclair running the show and with our outstanding captain with the dopey expression – Joe Cole – threading killer balls through the defence.
But creativity, the watchword at West Ham for decades, has been consigned to the dustbin of history by Alan Curbishley – who is perhaps the only man in the universe who can make Glenn Rodent seem to possess a happy-go-lucky, sparkling, personality in comparison.
No doubt, some people will turn round and say I don’t know my arse form my elbow, but am I not correct in thinking that we beat Fulham with a goal that bounced in off Nobby’s arse? Is that now the “West Ham way”?
Pure football – or “working class ballet”, as the legendary Alf Garnett described it - is dying at Upton Park. We’ve been thoroughly Charltonised and how much more of it can we stand? We should be over the moon that we’ve reached the safety mark of 40 points with 12 games to go, while half of our team have been starring in “Carry on Doctor” all year. We ought to be proud and excited that we have an outside chance of snatching a European place. The trouble is, that in order to make this “progress”, we’ve all but completely abandoned our football traditions. And to be honest I’d rather see us struggling for our premiership lives but playing football that excites my soul. Remember we used to sing, “Always believe in your soul, Joey Cole…” and we sung it for a reason.
The anarchist Emma Goldman didn’t play football as far as I know but she knew the importance of living a life to the full. She said quite rightly, “If I can’t dance it’s not my revolution.” Well, I’m not dancing to the Curbishley Revolution. I’m fast asleep. Wake me up when we stop playing the ball back and forth across the park or pumping a long hopeless ball to our one striker.
Curbishley is like the ultimate footballing contraceptive – 100% safe, not a drop of anything creative oozes out, and anything interesting that happens only seems to last a couple of minutes.
So, can our team of Charltonised sluggers who are boring us witless but have drearily crept up to 9th place, pull it off today? (no, I’m not still talking about contraceptives). We’ll see, but if we do or even if we don’t, let’s show a bit of sparkle, a bit of zest, a bit of flair and let it flow. Come on you Irons!!!
Don’t even think about it. It’s not big and it’s not clever. So if any of you were planning to dress as a big tub of lard in a blue shirt with “Frank” on the back today, just put it away and forget it because...
“It is illegal to impersonate a Chelsea Pensioner”
Apparently, in the 19th century it was a capital offence.
Seeing as we’re welcoming the Chelsea pensioners to Upton Park today and knowing what the law says about them I thought I ought to check up some other bizarre laws. You’ll be surprised how many of them relate to coppers. For instance: a pregnant woman can legally relieve herself anywhere she wants – even, if she so requests, in a policeman’s helmet, while in France, it is forbidden to call a pig Napoleon. In Kingsville, Texas, USA, it is against the law for pigs to have sex on airport property. And pigs may fly before anyone gets round to sorting out that strange bit of legislation.
But my favourite bizarre law comes from Zion, Illinois, USA, where it is still illegal to offer cigars to your pets. (My cats prefer a pint and a packet of nuts, as it happens). I don’t know whether out in Illinois they have any of those institutions like we have here, where beagles are mistreated, but you could imagine the conversation, couldn’t you?
American: “Now, howdy there doggy, can I git you anything to put in you mouth?”
Beagle: “No thanks, buddy, I’ve got another 50 fags to smoke this morning. Woof.”
American: “Have you ever tried smoking a nice big cigaaaah?”
Beagle: “Hey buddy, have you ever tried hangin’ out in a state penitentiary?”
So the Chelsea Flower Show is here today. Who’s going to come up smelling of roses and who’s going to end up in the Eartha Kitt? The Universal Laws of West Ham Attitude point to a close contest. We play absolute shite against teams who are absolute shite (of which Wigan and Birmingham are only the end of a long string of examples) but raise our game against top class opponents, as Manure and the Arse discovered at home and away last year, and as Manure and Liverpool have both found to their cost at what can hardly be called “Fortress Upton Park” this year. You cannot mess with the Universal Laws of West Ham Attitude.
We don’t seem to beat Chelsea that often so I hope you won’t mind if I indulge in a bit of nostalgia from the season we all want to forget. And in case you’ve forgotten, that was 2002-3, when we managed to take a set of outstanding players into the fizzy pop league and sell them off one by one until we had almost no one left.
There weren’t too many highlights that year but the games against Chelsea stood out. I rarely get to away games, but that year I had two kids in the class that I was teaching at school whose dads were regulars at Chelsea. Which makes a sort of pleasant change from all the Gooners in Islington where I work. Anyway they kindly took me along as their guest to the first encounter at the end of September. They were laughing over drinks before the game and must have thought they were on to a winner. Chelsea were riding high and West Ham were propping up the table having gained just two points from their first 6 games.
You would never have guessed that we were the underdogs though. West Ham took the game to Chelsea from the kick-off, hardly even distracted by having to replace the injured Freddie Kanoute, very early on, with that eager beaver/mercenary bastard, Jermaine Defoe. Chelsea had their goalie to thank for keeping them in the game before they went ahead against the run of play with a penalty, given against one of our crappiest defenders ever, Scott Minto. Despite that setback, West Ham continued to dominate and Defoe had made it 1-1 before the break.
Three minutes after half time came a completely unforgettable moment. All the Chelsea faithful, the Queen and David Mellor among them no doubt, were still picking at their prawn sandwiches when West Ham won a throw-in about thirty yards out on the right touchline. It was directly in line with where I was sitting with my Chelsea hosts just a few rows back. Paulo di Canio received the ball from the throw, juggled it from one foot to the other and back again, and then unleashed an unstoppable dipping volley past Cudicini. Pandemonium along the West Ham side of the ground. Gasps of horror and “f*** me!” from the Chelsea fans. Deep-inner pandemonium for me sitting amongst a swathe of the blue tossers.
Being West Ham, we let Chelsea have another crack when Zola got a neat goal, but di Canio, the hero of the day, grabbed the points with a careful shot from an acute angle with 6 minutes to go. A well-deserved win at what is not usually one of our happy hunting grounds.
By the time Chelsea came for the return fixture, we had climbed all the way to 18th in the table, or like Groucho Marx once said: “I’ve worked my way up from nothing to absolute poverty.” Our manager Glenn Rodent was recovering in hospital from a brain operation/personality transplant or something like that, and our secret weapon was standing on the touch line in a dark suit – or should I say standin’? Because it was Trevor Brookin’ (who never knowin’ly lets his lips pronounce that final “g”, and why should he? I’m only askin’).
The odds against us catching the teams above and staying up were pretty steep. But, in his short spell as caretaker (or very smartly dressed caretaker) Trevor had instilled a bit of pride and belief into a battered team that had been failing miserably and turning against each other. Di Canio, the hero in the game at Chelsea, hadn’t played for two and half months. He had an almighty falling out with the Rodent (telling him that he didn’t know what he was doing – though one of the defences against slander is “telling the truth”). He had also had a niggling injury that had taken him out of the reckoning for a few games, but Trevor gave him some TLC and put him on the bench for the return fixture.
The normally careful, cautious and conservative Trevor had opted to play three up front – Kanoute, Defoe and, blimey, Les f****** Ferdinand! Chelsea needed the points as much as we did as they were chasing a champions League place. But it was one of those dramas where we all knew the script.
West Ham played out of their skins, with Trevor Sinclair in particular, playing an absolute blinder, but they just couldn’t apply that finishing touch. Chelsea were rattled, always second to the ball, but looked dangerous every time they did manage to come forward. Our defence which had been leaking goals like diarrhoea all season, dealt with them magnificently. Brookin’ knew he needed some new legs for the final third of the game. So he brings on Di Canio who scores the winner with twenty minutes to go. Di Canio rips off his shirt and throws it to the sky, heads for the corner flag and shakes his fists. Upton Park erupts in a way as only it can, and in a way that I’m sure that some boring, modern, generic 60,000 seater stadium, on an old Parcel Force site, never ever will.
You can all probably think of so many times when West Ham make you want to scream or cry in frustration, but that day there were real tears of emotion in the final moments, with the crowd singing “One Trveor Brookin’, there’s only one Trevor Brookin’…” – which is true as well as being appropriate. There may be at least two and a half Frankie Lampards, but knock me down with a feather, there is only one Clever Trevor. We were the only team to do the double over Chelsea that year – a great achievement though it wasn’t enough to keep us up with the Big Boys.
That day, our supersub included, we had 12 heroes out there. They battled and battled but also had the vision and creativity to carve out the chances – with stars like di Canio, Defoe, Sinclair running the show and with our outstanding captain with the dopey expression – Joe Cole – threading killer balls through the defence.
But creativity, the watchword at West Ham for decades, has been consigned to the dustbin of history by Alan Curbishley – who is perhaps the only man in the universe who can make Glenn Rodent seem to possess a happy-go-lucky, sparkling, personality in comparison.
No doubt, some people will turn round and say I don’t know my arse form my elbow, but am I not correct in thinking that we beat Fulham with a goal that bounced in off Nobby’s arse? Is that now the “West Ham way”?
Pure football – or “working class ballet”, as the legendary Alf Garnett described it - is dying at Upton Park. We’ve been thoroughly Charltonised and how much more of it can we stand? We should be over the moon that we’ve reached the safety mark of 40 points with 12 games to go, while half of our team have been starring in “Carry on Doctor” all year. We ought to be proud and excited that we have an outside chance of snatching a European place. The trouble is, that in order to make this “progress”, we’ve all but completely abandoned our football traditions. And to be honest I’d rather see us struggling for our premiership lives but playing football that excites my soul. Remember we used to sing, “Always believe in your soul, Joey Cole…” and we sung it for a reason.
The anarchist Emma Goldman didn’t play football as far as I know but she knew the importance of living a life to the full. She said quite rightly, “If I can’t dance it’s not my revolution.” Well, I’m not dancing to the Curbishley Revolution. I’m fast asleep. Wake me up when we stop playing the ball back and forth across the park or pumping a long hopeless ball to our one striker.
Curbishley is like the ultimate footballing contraceptive – 100% safe, not a drop of anything creative oozes out, and anything interesting that happens only seems to last a couple of minutes.
So, can our team of Charltonised sluggers who are boring us witless but have drearily crept up to 9th place, pull it off today? (no, I’m not still talking about contraceptives). We’ll see, but if we do or even if we don’t, let’s show a bit of sparkle, a bit of zest, a bit of flair and let it flow. Come on you Irons!!!
West Ham United Walk on Water
OLAS 433 FEBRUARY 9TH 2008
The novelist Charles Dickens couldn’t stand them: “They are so filthy and bestial that no honest man would admit one into his house for a water-closet doormat.” Now you might be forgiven for thinking I’m talking about:
a) Man U supporters
b) Referees
c) Estate agents
or even
d) Politicians
Actually he was talking about newspapers. He’s not the only one enraged by them. Mayor Ken Livingstone, who knows a thing or two about the wicked ways of the press, said “Nothing prepares you for how bad Fleet Street really is until it craps on you from a great height.” and James G Watt certainly had at least a moral point when he moaned that “They kill good trees to put out bad newspapers”.
Everyone has a view on newspapers. In the last OLAS Dave Zieux mourned the death of the extraordinary chess champion Bobby Fischer. Now I am happy to come out here as a bit of a chess enthusiast (Essex juniors early1970s and an unlikely victory in 1975 over 4 times British Champion to be, Julian Hodgson). I admired Fischer’s talent on the chessboard as much as I detested his antisemitic conspiracy theories, but I noticed that he once asked the pertinent question: “Is it illegal to kill a reporter?”
I had an inkling of how Fischer felt the day after our injury-ridden squad had out thought, out-fought and deservedly dispatched Liverpool on a stupendous and wild Upton Park night.
Ex-president Lyndon B Johnson, once said: “If one morning I walked on top of the water across the Potomac River, the headline that afternoon would read: ‘President Can't Swim.’”
Well the other week West Ham were walking on the water, as surely as Trevor Brooking once did (well at least in the song he did), and Liverpool were sinking fast. At the end the Scousers were drowning but all the newspaper stories were about… Liverpool… how they were struggling…. how Benitez’s days were numbered… how even top players like Gerrard and Carragher were below their best…and hardly a word about who beat them, who made them look so ordinary, who snuffed out every threat and who capped a performance of total commitment and ultimately got the winner they deserved in the last seconds of injury time.
As a West Ham supporter you put up with a lot of disappointments, a lot of heartbreak on the field, and amateurish boardroom behaviour off it. You part with buckets of hard-earned dosh every year to see so many “almosts” and “maybes”. But every so often there are moments that tell you why you keep doing it. The moments when you know you are not just a masochist. You are a rational human being who is prepared to sink to the depths knowing that every so often there will be such brilliant highs.
Mark Noble stepped up to take that penalty in a cauldron of pressure. Reina guessed right and almost got it but the penalty was perfectly placed and he just couldn’t reach it. As it hit the net, Upton Park erupted. This wasn’t just another win against a big club, this was payback time for that cup final at Cardiff where we were mugged at the death. And we loved it!
The Liverpool bench probably cost nearly as much as our whole team but their team were beaten in the end by a penalty dispatched by a player who cost West Ham nothing – one of our own local boys who walks home after the game.
I have to admit feeling an extra joy in a Mystic Meg moment. The day before the game I sent an email to my mate Chris who was going to meet me there. It read: “Hi Chris, I'll be there probably nearer 7.30 than 7.20. See you tomorrow before we beat Liverpool 1-0. Dave”
But at West Ham you don’t get one emotion without a twinge of its opposite. I was gutted that I hadn’t got round to placing a correct score bet. William Hill, who I believe was a Liverpool lad himself, got off pretty lightly that night.
Everything that I had picked out as positive about our league performance at Citeh, in the last OLAS, was repeated against Liverpool. After a shaky start we got on top by playing excellent football on the ground with flair and without fear, winning every crucial challenge, and most importantly, with every player taking responsibility. Everyone wanted the ball and pushed forward once they got it. The running for each other, on and off the ball, was tremendous. In that first 45 minutes Mullins and Noble were outstanding. And Carlton Cole, deservedly benefiting from an extended run in the team at the expense of an increasingly surly Dean Ashton, was too hot for Liverpool to handle.
In the second half we began to tire and Liverpool had a good spell but having weathered the storm and with Greeny pulling off an amazing save with his plates, we made one last lunge forward, got the penalty and the rest is history.
Now I saw that, I found loads to write about, and there is much more I could have said, so why couldn’t the sports reporters have said something?
I like what Erwin Knoll , an Austrian refugee to America, said about newspapers. He was the longtime editor of an American magazine called The Progressive and used that platform to expose government lies, especially in relation to foreign policy.
“Everything you read in newspapers,” he said, “is absolutely true, except for that rare story of which you happen to have first-hand knowledge.” No doubt he would have agreed with the advice of the old-time comedian and radio broadcaster Goodman Ace who told people “keep reading between the lies.”
When West ham beat Liverpool there were 35,000 people with first-hand knowledge of what had happened and how it happened. Those people deserve better from the papers, and even more so, those who weren’t there. When we play crap , as we did quite predictably against Wigwam, write about it, scream it from the headlines if you like. But when we upset the applecart, when the underdog pulls off an unlikely victory, when all the odds are turned upside down, don’t ignore us, don’t patronize us, don’t treat us as second class citizens, but tell it like it is.
My friend Leon, who has been writing and performing songs for donkeys years, has a verse in one of his songs:
Whoever invented the Daily Mail/Ought to be cut down to size/Pulped and reduced to a nauseous juice/And dried out and flattened till ready for use/And covered with newsprint and lies/Because who’d do that to a tree…?
Well, when I came down to Earth again, I carried on in Mystic Meg mode, assuring all my friends that however brilliantly we played against Liverpool we were bound to slip up against a team of tiddlers, either Wigwam at the weekend or the Crossroads Motel lot the following one. So West Ham, and so utterly predictable. Mind you, there aren’t many times that Curbishley makes me laugh, but he came out with a gem after the Wigwam game which set me off just when I was crying into my beer. He was droning on about how he knew it would be decided by a goal from a set piece. (Is he Mystic Meg too?)
"It was so frustrating,” he said, “because when we see it again we have probably got our smallest player on one of their biggest players."
Now how would that have happened then? Did God make it happen? Who could have possibly made that tactical decision?
But whatever the result in Pieland, and whatever is lurking behind Deano’s bad attitude, I’m not going to let it stop me still grinning from ear to ear about what we did to Liverpool. I make that three home wins in a row in the league. Let’s make it four today, not that anyone will write about it though…
The novelist Charles Dickens couldn’t stand them: “They are so filthy and bestial that no honest man would admit one into his house for a water-closet doormat.” Now you might be forgiven for thinking I’m talking about:
a) Man U supporters
b) Referees
c) Estate agents
or even
d) Politicians
Actually he was talking about newspapers. He’s not the only one enraged by them. Mayor Ken Livingstone, who knows a thing or two about the wicked ways of the press, said “Nothing prepares you for how bad Fleet Street really is until it craps on you from a great height.” and James G Watt certainly had at least a moral point when he moaned that “They kill good trees to put out bad newspapers”.
Everyone has a view on newspapers. In the last OLAS Dave Zieux mourned the death of the extraordinary chess champion Bobby Fischer. Now I am happy to come out here as a bit of a chess enthusiast (Essex juniors early1970s and an unlikely victory in 1975 over 4 times British Champion to be, Julian Hodgson). I admired Fischer’s talent on the chessboard as much as I detested his antisemitic conspiracy theories, but I noticed that he once asked the pertinent question: “Is it illegal to kill a reporter?”
I had an inkling of how Fischer felt the day after our injury-ridden squad had out thought, out-fought and deservedly dispatched Liverpool on a stupendous and wild Upton Park night.
Ex-president Lyndon B Johnson, once said: “If one morning I walked on top of the water across the Potomac River, the headline that afternoon would read: ‘President Can't Swim.’”
Well the other week West Ham were walking on the water, as surely as Trevor Brooking once did (well at least in the song he did), and Liverpool were sinking fast. At the end the Scousers were drowning but all the newspaper stories were about… Liverpool… how they were struggling…. how Benitez’s days were numbered… how even top players like Gerrard and Carragher were below their best…and hardly a word about who beat them, who made them look so ordinary, who snuffed out every threat and who capped a performance of total commitment and ultimately got the winner they deserved in the last seconds of injury time.
As a West Ham supporter you put up with a lot of disappointments, a lot of heartbreak on the field, and amateurish boardroom behaviour off it. You part with buckets of hard-earned dosh every year to see so many “almosts” and “maybes”. But every so often there are moments that tell you why you keep doing it. The moments when you know you are not just a masochist. You are a rational human being who is prepared to sink to the depths knowing that every so often there will be such brilliant highs.
Mark Noble stepped up to take that penalty in a cauldron of pressure. Reina guessed right and almost got it but the penalty was perfectly placed and he just couldn’t reach it. As it hit the net, Upton Park erupted. This wasn’t just another win against a big club, this was payback time for that cup final at Cardiff where we were mugged at the death. And we loved it!
The Liverpool bench probably cost nearly as much as our whole team but their team were beaten in the end by a penalty dispatched by a player who cost West Ham nothing – one of our own local boys who walks home after the game.
I have to admit feeling an extra joy in a Mystic Meg moment. The day before the game I sent an email to my mate Chris who was going to meet me there. It read: “Hi Chris, I'll be there probably nearer 7.30 than 7.20. See you tomorrow before we beat Liverpool 1-0. Dave”
But at West Ham you don’t get one emotion without a twinge of its opposite. I was gutted that I hadn’t got round to placing a correct score bet. William Hill, who I believe was a Liverpool lad himself, got off pretty lightly that night.
Everything that I had picked out as positive about our league performance at Citeh, in the last OLAS, was repeated against Liverpool. After a shaky start we got on top by playing excellent football on the ground with flair and without fear, winning every crucial challenge, and most importantly, with every player taking responsibility. Everyone wanted the ball and pushed forward once they got it. The running for each other, on and off the ball, was tremendous. In that first 45 minutes Mullins and Noble were outstanding. And Carlton Cole, deservedly benefiting from an extended run in the team at the expense of an increasingly surly Dean Ashton, was too hot for Liverpool to handle.
In the second half we began to tire and Liverpool had a good spell but having weathered the storm and with Greeny pulling off an amazing save with his plates, we made one last lunge forward, got the penalty and the rest is history.
Now I saw that, I found loads to write about, and there is much more I could have said, so why couldn’t the sports reporters have said something?
I like what Erwin Knoll , an Austrian refugee to America, said about newspapers. He was the longtime editor of an American magazine called The Progressive and used that platform to expose government lies, especially in relation to foreign policy.
“Everything you read in newspapers,” he said, “is absolutely true, except for that rare story of which you happen to have first-hand knowledge.” No doubt he would have agreed with the advice of the old-time comedian and radio broadcaster Goodman Ace who told people “keep reading between the lies.”
When West ham beat Liverpool there were 35,000 people with first-hand knowledge of what had happened and how it happened. Those people deserve better from the papers, and even more so, those who weren’t there. When we play crap , as we did quite predictably against Wigwam, write about it, scream it from the headlines if you like. But when we upset the applecart, when the underdog pulls off an unlikely victory, when all the odds are turned upside down, don’t ignore us, don’t patronize us, don’t treat us as second class citizens, but tell it like it is.
My friend Leon, who has been writing and performing songs for donkeys years, has a verse in one of his songs:
Whoever invented the Daily Mail/Ought to be cut down to size/Pulped and reduced to a nauseous juice/And dried out and flattened till ready for use/And covered with newsprint and lies/Because who’d do that to a tree…?
Well, when I came down to Earth again, I carried on in Mystic Meg mode, assuring all my friends that however brilliantly we played against Liverpool we were bound to slip up against a team of tiddlers, either Wigwam at the weekend or the Crossroads Motel lot the following one. So West Ham, and so utterly predictable. Mind you, there aren’t many times that Curbishley makes me laugh, but he came out with a gem after the Wigwam game which set me off just when I was crying into my beer. He was droning on about how he knew it would be decided by a goal from a set piece. (Is he Mystic Meg too?)
"It was so frustrating,” he said, “because when we see it again we have probably got our smallest player on one of their biggest players."
Now how would that have happened then? Did God make it happen? Who could have possibly made that tactical decision?
But whatever the result in Pieland, and whatever is lurking behind Deano’s bad attitude, I’m not going to let it stop me still grinning from ear to ear about what we did to Liverpool. I make that three home wins in a row in the league. Let’s make it four today, not that anyone will write about it though…
Juggling skunks
OLAS 432 30th JANUARY 2008
The Flying Karamazov Brothers are a legendary American juggling troupe who can do more things with balls than seems healthy. I saw them many years ago and was amazed at the high-speed skill and dexterity they showed as balls, clubs, rings and all manner of objects passed between them at incredible speed and with deadly accuracy. They claim to juggle anything except live animals, a claim that remains to be tested as I’ve never seen them juggle dead skunks, or dead anything come to think of it. Anyway, when I watched them, I remember one of the brothers revealing their secret. “It’s all about time,” he said. “Time is really important. It is what stops everything happening all at once.”
And that problem of time, which has been at the heart of West Ham’s difficulties this year, could soon become the key to success. For so many months this year our injuries have happened all at once. Were all our players fit we would, of course, have some selection problems, but at least we would have options.
And timing has been cruel as players gradually get over their injuries. As one player returns another is gone again. Like a f****** merry go round with different faces each time it goes past you. I can almost hear Peter O’Sullivan: “Freddie’s back on his horse but Ethers has fallen off…and here comes Faubert, but Solano’s gone. Still two furlongs to go.”
The most settled part of the team has been the defence and that shows in our defensive record – bettered only by the top three bastards and tonight’s anally retentive opponents, Liverpool. The defence has been particularly impressive away from home where despite playing very attacking football we have conceded just 9 goals in 11 games.
Players who frustrated us earlier in the season are visibly growing in confidence week on week. Heather looks like a new stronger player, Upson has been immense in the last few games, Lucas is seeing the benefit of concentrating for longer periods and Anton is back to his best. Of course all of them are given a lot of confidence knowing that behind them they have probably the best goalie in the league.
There are still the odd mistakes – Fulham’s goal was a prime example – but generally they have developed a great understanding and are playing the ball out of defence with purpose and accuracy, which drives the whole team forward.
In the 1-1 draw with Citeh, it was the way the defence brought the ball out of the danger area that enabled the midfield to take the game forward so impressively. We’re all gutted not to have taken the three points there that we deserved, but it was an immensely uplifting performance and a measure of how far we have come.
Citeh’s ground has been a fortress this year and yet we outplayed them twice. In the first game we only have ourselves to blame for getting dumped out of the cup. Curbs has been going on about their goalie impeding Bowyer but that’s bollox as he’d already floated the ball over the goalie. The truth is had we taken our chances (Ashton’s volley, Boa Morte’s one on one with the option of an easy pass to Freddie) there would have been no way back for the Blue Mancs. In the second game, where we played much better, only the linesman (David Blunkett I think his name was), and their excellent goalie saved them.
What was really impressive was the way we were still going for a win in injury time when many teams would have settled happily for a draw. Carlton was desperately unlucky to be denied on that final header – but full credit to their goalie for yet another terrific save.
If we play with the same drive, accuracy of passing, running off the ball tonight then we’ve got every chance of pulling off a result against Liverpool tonight – who have the same assets to their game but with much more consistency, and with the added option of pulling world class players off the bench. But we did it against the Red Mancs. It can happen against the Red Scousers.
The league game at Citeh though, provides a good moment to make an honest appraisal of our strengths and our weaknesses. First, the good news. Apart for the defence we are now starting to get the best out of Freddie. Until now I had thought he was just a lawn ornament and a lazy, expensive lawn ornament at that, but in the last few games he has shown the trickery, speed and strength that made him a great player for Arsenal. Two aspects of his game are not at full tilt at the moment – his crossing and his shooting, but they are not far off.
At the same time as Freddie is showing a vast improvement, Faubert has been coming off the bench. He looks a player with real potential – dogged in the tackle, quick thinking, and an excellent crosser of the ball, as that injury time chance for Cole showed. When Faubert returns to full fitness, and with Solano available again soon, there can be no more excuses for playing that tossrag Bowyer. How I would love it if we could offload him to a championship team, or a donkey sanctuary, or anywhere really.
And speaking of Tossrags what is Boa Morte doing in the team? A few weeks ago I was praising his aggression and speed. I was wrong. His aggression is over the top and every time he steps on the field now he risks a red card and leaving the rest of the team in the two-bob bit. Twice in a row he’s had to be substituted on a yellow. When Etherington is fit again and Bellamy on his way back, then Boa Morte should become a player of last resort. At the moment he’s a liability. The guy’s a maniac.
In the centre of midfield Nobes and Mullins have been excellent, and when Scotty Parker returns from being kidnapped again – any two of those three would be fine.
The dilemma at the moment is up front. While I may have given the impression in my column up to now that Carlton Cole is a rather useless leggy bastard with an inane grin, I have to admit he’s a rapidly improving leggy bastard with an inane grin and I would currently choose him over Ashton. It’s a matter of what he can do that Ashton can’t at the moment, and how West Ham play when Ashton is in the team.
Carlton can win the ball in the air, his first touch is improving, he can lay the ball off intelligently to the wingers and he’s unselfish around the box. When Ashton plays, the team suddenly revert to the long pointless ball towards him. His first touch is often poor and he’s slow to recognise opportunities to set up players around him. But then, well, the game against Fulham illustrated the dilemma perfectly. Ashton was shit but could have had a hat trick.
When given the proper service from the wing - a decent cross - he took the headed goal with aplomb. When he received the ball at, well, knob height, he brought it down well, shot powerfully and the goalie pushed it against the bar. When the ball was played to his feet he did a fine curling shot with his left peg that the goalie did well to turn over.
But for the rest of the game he was useless. At the moment I would put him on the bench, hide the pies, and get him fit. And I would tell the rest of the team that when Deano comes on, don’t stop the passing game on the ground.
Time is now working in our favour as we are playing good football while our players take turns to reappear. If we can avoid a new spate of injuries we can seriously look forward to challenging the teams immediately above us for a European place. And how much more we would be in a position to do that if we showed a bit of courage in the transfer market before the window closes. By tonight we’ll know for sure the extent or rather the limit of our ambitions here.
So far it seems that Boggleface, or whatever his name is, has locked away the chequebook and Curbs is happy to follow orders and say what a wonderful squad of injured players we have. We all know that two or three serious investments now would generate a return later, and if we wanted to soften the financial blow we could bite the bullet and sell off Bowyer, Boa Morte, Quashie, and Dailly, but I suspect its same old, same old – and another missed opportunity.
Well, like the Flying Karamazov Brothers I do the occasional bit of juggling myself, so I’m going to get my balls out and have a little work out. Enjoy the game. Come On Your Irons!!!
The Flying Karamazov Brothers are a legendary American juggling troupe who can do more things with balls than seems healthy. I saw them many years ago and was amazed at the high-speed skill and dexterity they showed as balls, clubs, rings and all manner of objects passed between them at incredible speed and with deadly accuracy. They claim to juggle anything except live animals, a claim that remains to be tested as I’ve never seen them juggle dead skunks, or dead anything come to think of it. Anyway, when I watched them, I remember one of the brothers revealing their secret. “It’s all about time,” he said. “Time is really important. It is what stops everything happening all at once.”
And that problem of time, which has been at the heart of West Ham’s difficulties this year, could soon become the key to success. For so many months this year our injuries have happened all at once. Were all our players fit we would, of course, have some selection problems, but at least we would have options.
And timing has been cruel as players gradually get over their injuries. As one player returns another is gone again. Like a f****** merry go round with different faces each time it goes past you. I can almost hear Peter O’Sullivan: “Freddie’s back on his horse but Ethers has fallen off…and here comes Faubert, but Solano’s gone. Still two furlongs to go.”
The most settled part of the team has been the defence and that shows in our defensive record – bettered only by the top three bastards and tonight’s anally retentive opponents, Liverpool. The defence has been particularly impressive away from home where despite playing very attacking football we have conceded just 9 goals in 11 games.
Players who frustrated us earlier in the season are visibly growing in confidence week on week. Heather looks like a new stronger player, Upson has been immense in the last few games, Lucas is seeing the benefit of concentrating for longer periods and Anton is back to his best. Of course all of them are given a lot of confidence knowing that behind them they have probably the best goalie in the league.
There are still the odd mistakes – Fulham’s goal was a prime example – but generally they have developed a great understanding and are playing the ball out of defence with purpose and accuracy, which drives the whole team forward.
In the 1-1 draw with Citeh, it was the way the defence brought the ball out of the danger area that enabled the midfield to take the game forward so impressively. We’re all gutted not to have taken the three points there that we deserved, but it was an immensely uplifting performance and a measure of how far we have come.
Citeh’s ground has been a fortress this year and yet we outplayed them twice. In the first game we only have ourselves to blame for getting dumped out of the cup. Curbs has been going on about their goalie impeding Bowyer but that’s bollox as he’d already floated the ball over the goalie. The truth is had we taken our chances (Ashton’s volley, Boa Morte’s one on one with the option of an easy pass to Freddie) there would have been no way back for the Blue Mancs. In the second game, where we played much better, only the linesman (David Blunkett I think his name was), and their excellent goalie saved them.
What was really impressive was the way we were still going for a win in injury time when many teams would have settled happily for a draw. Carlton was desperately unlucky to be denied on that final header – but full credit to their goalie for yet another terrific save.
If we play with the same drive, accuracy of passing, running off the ball tonight then we’ve got every chance of pulling off a result against Liverpool tonight – who have the same assets to their game but with much more consistency, and with the added option of pulling world class players off the bench. But we did it against the Red Mancs. It can happen against the Red Scousers.
The league game at Citeh though, provides a good moment to make an honest appraisal of our strengths and our weaknesses. First, the good news. Apart for the defence we are now starting to get the best out of Freddie. Until now I had thought he was just a lawn ornament and a lazy, expensive lawn ornament at that, but in the last few games he has shown the trickery, speed and strength that made him a great player for Arsenal. Two aspects of his game are not at full tilt at the moment – his crossing and his shooting, but they are not far off.
At the same time as Freddie is showing a vast improvement, Faubert has been coming off the bench. He looks a player with real potential – dogged in the tackle, quick thinking, and an excellent crosser of the ball, as that injury time chance for Cole showed. When Faubert returns to full fitness, and with Solano available again soon, there can be no more excuses for playing that tossrag Bowyer. How I would love it if we could offload him to a championship team, or a donkey sanctuary, or anywhere really.
And speaking of Tossrags what is Boa Morte doing in the team? A few weeks ago I was praising his aggression and speed. I was wrong. His aggression is over the top and every time he steps on the field now he risks a red card and leaving the rest of the team in the two-bob bit. Twice in a row he’s had to be substituted on a yellow. When Etherington is fit again and Bellamy on his way back, then Boa Morte should become a player of last resort. At the moment he’s a liability. The guy’s a maniac.
In the centre of midfield Nobes and Mullins have been excellent, and when Scotty Parker returns from being kidnapped again – any two of those three would be fine.
The dilemma at the moment is up front. While I may have given the impression in my column up to now that Carlton Cole is a rather useless leggy bastard with an inane grin, I have to admit he’s a rapidly improving leggy bastard with an inane grin and I would currently choose him over Ashton. It’s a matter of what he can do that Ashton can’t at the moment, and how West Ham play when Ashton is in the team.
Carlton can win the ball in the air, his first touch is improving, he can lay the ball off intelligently to the wingers and he’s unselfish around the box. When Ashton plays, the team suddenly revert to the long pointless ball towards him. His first touch is often poor and he’s slow to recognise opportunities to set up players around him. But then, well, the game against Fulham illustrated the dilemma perfectly. Ashton was shit but could have had a hat trick.
When given the proper service from the wing - a decent cross - he took the headed goal with aplomb. When he received the ball at, well, knob height, he brought it down well, shot powerfully and the goalie pushed it against the bar. When the ball was played to his feet he did a fine curling shot with his left peg that the goalie did well to turn over.
But for the rest of the game he was useless. At the moment I would put him on the bench, hide the pies, and get him fit. And I would tell the rest of the team that when Deano comes on, don’t stop the passing game on the ground.
Time is now working in our favour as we are playing good football while our players take turns to reappear. If we can avoid a new spate of injuries we can seriously look forward to challenging the teams immediately above us for a European place. And how much more we would be in a position to do that if we showed a bit of courage in the transfer market before the window closes. By tonight we’ll know for sure the extent or rather the limit of our ambitions here.
So far it seems that Boggleface, or whatever his name is, has locked away the chequebook and Curbs is happy to follow orders and say what a wonderful squad of injured players we have. We all know that two or three serious investments now would generate a return later, and if we wanted to soften the financial blow we could bite the bullet and sell off Bowyer, Boa Morte, Quashie, and Dailly, but I suspect its same old, same old – and another missed opportunity.
Well, like the Flying Karamazov Brothers I do the occasional bit of juggling myself, so I’m going to get my balls out and have a little work out. Enjoy the game. Come On Your Irons!!!
Now we’re out of coke, can we still get high?
OLAS 428 DECEMBER 26th 2007
So it was first and second blood to Everton in our brace of games against them. Although we competed well, especially in the first 25 minutes of the cup game, Everton looked the team most likely to win. The league game was no contest at all. We fluffed the few clear chances we made and then handed it to them on a plate. The only question in the second half was how long it would take Everton to get their second goal. My general advice to West Ham is: don’t play Everton more than three times a season and especially, don’t play them twice in one week.
But we can learn some lessons from them. Everton defended well in both games – headed clearances usually found their players – they broke with pace, using the wings to put us under pressure, and though they had few clear cut chances in either game they always looked dangerous. The gap in quality was especially evident when it came to the kind of ball pumped into the danger zone, whether from open play, free kicks or corners. I don’t know what Freddie Ljungberg has been doing while resting between occasional appearances but it sure as hell hasn’t been practising taking corners. His efforts from the corner flag in the cup game might have just about succeeded against a team of pygmies but not against Everton’s defence. In the league game Solano’s corners at least put some pressure on Everton. And had Ginger Pele been fully awake he would have profited from one of them that landed right at his feet unmarked 12 yards out.
For all the disappointment other OLAS writers expressed about the cup failure, that night’s efforts look so much better after the wretched league game on Saturday.
On the Wednesday night we showed guile and determination at the start which was justly rewarded with another goal by New King Cole. Cole, Ljungberg and Boa Morte all looked sharp in that initial period but like the bubbles they faded and died as Everton asserted control.
I’ve been critical of Boa Morte and Curbs throughout this season (and half of last season too – now that’s consistency for you) but I have to recognise that at the moment Curbs is getting the best out of him. With his level of aggression in the tackle, he can go over the top, but it puts fear into our opponents, inspires his team-mates and enthuses the crowd. His first touch sometimes lets him down but he has got electrifying pace and if we play to his strengths he can unsettle the best teams. The price for having him in the team though is not having Etherington – which at the moment is difficult call. Ethers lacks the aggression but is a trickier player who can cross well or get to the by line and win corners. In the league game we lacked both Ethers and BM – and it showed.
Literally, the heaviest disappointment on Wednesday was Deano, especially after justifying his starting place with a strong second half performance at Blackburn. He looked very tentative and subdued in the cup game and showed little improvement on the Saturday. He seriously looks like his shorts are weighing him down and anchoring him to the ground.
In both games he won very few headers and those he did he generally failed to direct to another West Ham player. His shooting was mostly aimed at the upper tier of the stands. And when he had the ball on the ground he generally ran into trouble and lost possession cheaply.
Without doubt he has had massive blows to his confidence with two England disappointments but he somehow needs to put that behind him and remind himself that he is a player of enormous talent and potential who should be bossing games. Leaving aside his curiously leaden shorts, It seems that it is much more of a mental attitude problem than an issue of footballing technique.
A lot of us fancied we were on a cup run to Wembley, so how did we actually lose out? Everton’s first goal was well worked and hard to defend against. Their second was the result of an appalling mix-up where Greeny, Gabbs and Upson all had the opportunity to do a safety first action which may have conceded a corner. Having said that, the prospect of freezing my goolies off for another half hour of extra time was not that enticing. And I suspect Everton would have still gone on to win. We only had one further sub we could make – Noble or Spector – they had three quality players raring to go. Who knows? Maybe Noble would have made the difference. It’s hard for him at the moment with Parker and Mullins both playing well and I’m glad he got at least part of a game on the Saturday.
So no Coke for us this year – but full credit to Everton, who, alongside Arsenal, looked the best team to play at Upton Park this year. I’m going to try to forget these two games now, because before then we had been starting to play much more as a team. We’ve got a few tough fixtures looming. If we can intersperse any defeats with good victories we’ll go into 2008 with confidence and some optimism. And when you think about Greeny, Noble, a fully fit Parker, Ashton finding his confidence again, Faubert and eventually Dyer coming back to fitness you can see the core of team that could be pushing for Europe, rather than counting how many points we stand above the drop zone.
Some of you may not have needed to see Gary decked out in fairy lights to have noticed that Christmas is here, and these days more and more people are doing charity gifts. If you are inclined to do this there is a very sound football and health-related charity that I’ve done some work for that would make excellent use of any donations they get. They are called Alive&Kicking (check them out at: www.aliveandkicking.org.uk). Apart from a skeleton staff in a tiny office here, they are based in Africa. They make cheap but good quality, repairable leather footballs, which are sold or donated to schools, youth clubs, orphanages and projects working with street children.
Most footballs on sale in Africa are imported from Asia where they are made mainly for the European market and for your average European park surface – a far cry from the hazardous, rocky surfaces that a lot of kids are learning their skills on in many African towns and villages. For kids in Kenya, when their balls burst they usually can’t afford another so they improvise by making balls out of newspapers and plastic bags tied round with string.
Alive&Kicking use locally sourced leather – cast-offs from a shoe factory bought at the market price – for their footballs and also make volleyballs and netballs. Each ball is stamped with preventative health messages about the three biggest killer diseases locally – HIV/AIDS, Malaria and TB – which young people are particularly vulnerable to. The pace at which these health problems are rising often outstrips the pace at which effective health education can be provided. So Alive and Kicking are trying to find alternative spaces as well as schools where kids can be exposed to effective health education. They have enlisted the support of locally famous African footballers, boxers (women and men) and athletes to support their health education work.
They started in Nairobi where Adidas used to have a factory but Adidas moved to find even cheaper labour elsewhere. Alive&Kicking took on around 15 unemployed football stitchers and paid them to train up job-seekers from Nairobi’s slum areas. They now have two cooperative factories supporting around 100 workers in Nairobi, and similar operations are starting up in Zambia and South Africa – where the next World Cup will be played. Here in London, Alive&Kicking are developing a website to enable young people here to learn about kids their age in Africa and think about the idea that every child in the world has the right to play. I’m sure they will appreciate anything you can give.
And if you do give - let them know you’re a Hammer. I’ve been in Africa – East and South – a few times in recent years, and will be there again as you are reading this, as my treat for reaching 50 years on Planet Earth (42 of them an Upton Park aficionado). The English premiership is big out there but the most popular premiership teams in Africa are Arsenal, Man U and Chelsea. In South Africa there has long been a place called “East London” (without the geezers, though), and I think it’s time to put our East London’s team on the map of the continent where the world’s best footballing geezers will be coming in 2010.
To Gary, my co-writers and readers, whatever you are celebrating at this time of year – Christmas, Chanukah, Eid, Winter Solstice, Spurs being 4 lovely points below us in December, their “England’s number 1” having let in nearly 30 goals so far…have a good one. Let’s get high(er) in 2008!
So it was first and second blood to Everton in our brace of games against them. Although we competed well, especially in the first 25 minutes of the cup game, Everton looked the team most likely to win. The league game was no contest at all. We fluffed the few clear chances we made and then handed it to them on a plate. The only question in the second half was how long it would take Everton to get their second goal. My general advice to West Ham is: don’t play Everton more than three times a season and especially, don’t play them twice in one week.
But we can learn some lessons from them. Everton defended well in both games – headed clearances usually found their players – they broke with pace, using the wings to put us under pressure, and though they had few clear cut chances in either game they always looked dangerous. The gap in quality was especially evident when it came to the kind of ball pumped into the danger zone, whether from open play, free kicks or corners. I don’t know what Freddie Ljungberg has been doing while resting between occasional appearances but it sure as hell hasn’t been practising taking corners. His efforts from the corner flag in the cup game might have just about succeeded against a team of pygmies but not against Everton’s defence. In the league game Solano’s corners at least put some pressure on Everton. And had Ginger Pele been fully awake he would have profited from one of them that landed right at his feet unmarked 12 yards out.
For all the disappointment other OLAS writers expressed about the cup failure, that night’s efforts look so much better after the wretched league game on Saturday.
On the Wednesday night we showed guile and determination at the start which was justly rewarded with another goal by New King Cole. Cole, Ljungberg and Boa Morte all looked sharp in that initial period but like the bubbles they faded and died as Everton asserted control.
I’ve been critical of Boa Morte and Curbs throughout this season (and half of last season too – now that’s consistency for you) but I have to recognise that at the moment Curbs is getting the best out of him. With his level of aggression in the tackle, he can go over the top, but it puts fear into our opponents, inspires his team-mates and enthuses the crowd. His first touch sometimes lets him down but he has got electrifying pace and if we play to his strengths he can unsettle the best teams. The price for having him in the team though is not having Etherington – which at the moment is difficult call. Ethers lacks the aggression but is a trickier player who can cross well or get to the by line and win corners. In the league game we lacked both Ethers and BM – and it showed.
Literally, the heaviest disappointment on Wednesday was Deano, especially after justifying his starting place with a strong second half performance at Blackburn. He looked very tentative and subdued in the cup game and showed little improvement on the Saturday. He seriously looks like his shorts are weighing him down and anchoring him to the ground.
In both games he won very few headers and those he did he generally failed to direct to another West Ham player. His shooting was mostly aimed at the upper tier of the stands. And when he had the ball on the ground he generally ran into trouble and lost possession cheaply.
Without doubt he has had massive blows to his confidence with two England disappointments but he somehow needs to put that behind him and remind himself that he is a player of enormous talent and potential who should be bossing games. Leaving aside his curiously leaden shorts, It seems that it is much more of a mental attitude problem than an issue of footballing technique.
A lot of us fancied we were on a cup run to Wembley, so how did we actually lose out? Everton’s first goal was well worked and hard to defend against. Their second was the result of an appalling mix-up where Greeny, Gabbs and Upson all had the opportunity to do a safety first action which may have conceded a corner. Having said that, the prospect of freezing my goolies off for another half hour of extra time was not that enticing. And I suspect Everton would have still gone on to win. We only had one further sub we could make – Noble or Spector – they had three quality players raring to go. Who knows? Maybe Noble would have made the difference. It’s hard for him at the moment with Parker and Mullins both playing well and I’m glad he got at least part of a game on the Saturday.
So no Coke for us this year – but full credit to Everton, who, alongside Arsenal, looked the best team to play at Upton Park this year. I’m going to try to forget these two games now, because before then we had been starting to play much more as a team. We’ve got a few tough fixtures looming. If we can intersperse any defeats with good victories we’ll go into 2008 with confidence and some optimism. And when you think about Greeny, Noble, a fully fit Parker, Ashton finding his confidence again, Faubert and eventually Dyer coming back to fitness you can see the core of team that could be pushing for Europe, rather than counting how many points we stand above the drop zone.
Some of you may not have needed to see Gary decked out in fairy lights to have noticed that Christmas is here, and these days more and more people are doing charity gifts. If you are inclined to do this there is a very sound football and health-related charity that I’ve done some work for that would make excellent use of any donations they get. They are called Alive&Kicking (check them out at: www.aliveandkicking.org.uk). Apart from a skeleton staff in a tiny office here, they are based in Africa. They make cheap but good quality, repairable leather footballs, which are sold or donated to schools, youth clubs, orphanages and projects working with street children.
Most footballs on sale in Africa are imported from Asia where they are made mainly for the European market and for your average European park surface – a far cry from the hazardous, rocky surfaces that a lot of kids are learning their skills on in many African towns and villages. For kids in Kenya, when their balls burst they usually can’t afford another so they improvise by making balls out of newspapers and plastic bags tied round with string.
Alive&Kicking use locally sourced leather – cast-offs from a shoe factory bought at the market price – for their footballs and also make volleyballs and netballs. Each ball is stamped with preventative health messages about the three biggest killer diseases locally – HIV/AIDS, Malaria and TB – which young people are particularly vulnerable to. The pace at which these health problems are rising often outstrips the pace at which effective health education can be provided. So Alive and Kicking are trying to find alternative spaces as well as schools where kids can be exposed to effective health education. They have enlisted the support of locally famous African footballers, boxers (women and men) and athletes to support their health education work.
They started in Nairobi where Adidas used to have a factory but Adidas moved to find even cheaper labour elsewhere. Alive&Kicking took on around 15 unemployed football stitchers and paid them to train up job-seekers from Nairobi’s slum areas. They now have two cooperative factories supporting around 100 workers in Nairobi, and similar operations are starting up in Zambia and South Africa – where the next World Cup will be played. Here in London, Alive&Kicking are developing a website to enable young people here to learn about kids their age in Africa and think about the idea that every child in the world has the right to play. I’m sure they will appreciate anything you can give.
And if you do give - let them know you’re a Hammer. I’ve been in Africa – East and South – a few times in recent years, and will be there again as you are reading this, as my treat for reaching 50 years on Planet Earth (42 of them an Upton Park aficionado). The English premiership is big out there but the most popular premiership teams in Africa are Arsenal, Man U and Chelsea. In South Africa there has long been a place called “East London” (without the geezers, though), and I think it’s time to put our East London’s team on the map of the continent where the world’s best footballing geezers will be coming in 2010.
To Gary, my co-writers and readers, whatever you are celebrating at this time of year – Christmas, Chanukah, Eid, Winter Solstice, Spurs being 4 lovely points below us in December, their “England’s number 1” having let in nearly 30 goals so far…have a good one. Let’s get high(er) in 2008!
Great Scott!
OLAS 426 DECEMBER 12th 2007
So he’s finally turned up and he’s making a big difference. Apparently Scott Parker wasn’t hidden in the boot of Curbishley’s car after all, or snatched and sold to a childless couple in Morocco. It has now been revealed that he’s part of a completely different newspaper story. He reported for training at Chadwell Heath after disappearing for about five years and said, “I think I’m a missing person. I used to be a combative and creative midfielder and I might have once played for Chelsea, or was it Charlton. I can’t really remember.” Well, wherever he has been, Scott Parker is back and the whole team looks stronger, has more shape and are playing more purposefully. My only regret is that I never had the opportunity to do a Scott Parker-based spoof on children’s books such as “Where’s Spot?” or “Where’s Wally?” Mind you, I could write a book called “Where’s Bellamy?” instead.
Anyway, the return of our micro-player is certainly having an effect. Coming on as a second half substitute against Spurs, Scotty looked dangerous every time he ran through the middle right at them. A week later, undaunted by Chelski’s billionaire brigade he led by example in the middle of the pitch, stopping and blocking practically every Chelski advance and trying whenever possible to turn defence into attack. At Blackburn’s half-empty stadium I thought he was “Man/Boy of the Match”. When he grows up and reaches full height, well, who knows what his prospects could be?
Four points was a reasonable return from three tricky games – and we could have got more. One goal was never going to be enough against a Spurs team sitting in a false position in the table and with their expectations lifted by a change of manager. In the end we could have lost 2-1 as a result of the worst refereeing display I have seen in more than 40 years of coming to games at Upton Park. He gave a penalty in injury time for the most innocuous challenge all day. It was certainly a blood and thunder local derby with lots of aggressive challenges to win 50-50 balls, but, whether it was our players or theirs, I felt that nearly every hard tackle was a genuine attempt to get the ball.
Football fans often feel that their team has been hard done by a crap referee but when they analyse the statistics from the game they usually find that there was only a small discrepancy in decisions going the other team’s way. When I got home after the Spurs game I went straight to the Sporting Life website to check the stats on the game. It was there in black and white. Mike Blimey awarded West Ham five free kicks for Spurs fouls. He had given Spurs 33 – yes 33 - free kicks for alleged West Ham fouls!
When I first started watching West Ham you used to get the usual jibes against refs suggesting they were visually challenged, but you rarely felt that your team had been completely f***** over by someone who just didn’t know what they were doing.
In those days refs were more often pulled up for having played advantage and let the game flow, rather than give free kicks. The most famous case concerned a ref with the wonderful name of Ray Tinkler in charge of a game at Leeds once (not against West Ham). Both teams had stopped after a pretty bad foul. The ball meanwhile had rolled to a Leeds striker Mick Jones who was just inside the opponents’ half. After what seemed an eternity, Tinkler waved play on, and Mick Jones was on a one on one with the goalie and scored!
I was at school at the time and whenever anyone did a crunching leg-breaking foul, some wag (ok, often me) would say: “Referee Ray Tinkler says play on”.
So how does the FA explain away a performance like Mike Riley’s against Spurs? And how on earth is he allowed to continue in his job? In these Big Brother days when everything is monitored and scrutinised to the nth degree it seems there is still no accountability at all for poor refereeing.
Although, if he hadn’t have given the Spuds that dubious penalty we would not have enjoyed one of our golden moments watching that mercenary Defoe being denied from the penalty spot by Robert Green with a fantastic full stretch save. So thanks, then Blind Mike Riley – you made my day.
I can’t remember the last time a West Ham goalie has saved three penalties before we were even half way through the season – maybe there are some anoraks out there with little going on in their life who can check and confirm this statistic.
It would have been a great injustice if Spurs had scored because although they played well and took the game to us, we had the best opportunities and attempts on goal. Unfortunately Robinson gave the kind of display he’s been unable to reproduce for England, making three exceptional saves from good attempts by Rigor Mortis, Ashton and little Scotty.
We didn’t nick it in the end but there was enough in that performance to give me some confidence before the trip to Stamford Bridge. Enough actually, for me to put a couple of bets on, with the Hammers to win 1-0 (19-1) or 2-1 (28-1). At the end of the first half where we had handled ourselves extremely well – being quick in the tackle, composed at the back while making occasional real chances– I had faith that one of my bets might still come off. In the end I think we may have been undone by substitution that weakened rather than strengthened our team at a crucial time. Ljungberg looked scared of upsetting his hair-do and Ashton looked overweight and off the pace. The other factor is that two of our best chances fell to Nobby Solano. For a midfielder, Solano has a Martin Peters-type ability to ghost unchecked into scoring positions. Only trouble is that he is as effective in front of goal as Martin from EastEnders was in keeping his temper.
The goal that beat us may have been marginally offside and we deserved a point, but it is no great shame or disaster to lose by a single goal at the Bridge and we certainly made up for any disappointment with a solid and well-worked victory at the half-empty Blackburn stadium.
I don’t know why I enjoy beating Blackburn so much – they have several players I admire and I quite like their strip even if its not as striking as their blue and white quarters of yesteryear. Maybe it’s simply that the Neanderthal Savage plays for them and there are few players I loathe more than Lily. In fact there are no players I loathe more than Lily Savage.
The game against Blackburn was a useful barometer of our progress. They will be there or thereabouts when it comes to the dogfight for European places at the tail-end of the season and showing that we can more than match them on their manor bodes well for the second half of the season when hopefully we can thrown Faubert into the equation and bring back a fully fit Bellamy. If we can stay nearer to the Euro-battle than to the drop zone by the end of December, and Curbs shows a bit of real ambition, then we may actually attract the players in January who can lift us to the next level.
With four games to play before the half way stage in the season we’ve already got more than half the points we will need to survive and we are holding down a place in the top ten with a very positive goal difference. Tonight we’ve got a chance to progress into the semi-finals of the Coco the Clown Cup, we’ve got a home draw in the FA Cup and are still packing Upton Park for every game, even the ones shown on Scumbag Murdoch’s media. We’ve got good reasons to be optimistic.
Before I sign off though, I’ve just got to go to the oven to heat up some humble pie. I’ve got to admit that we owe some of our progress to a guy called Carlton Cole who has given 110% in the last few games. Carlton Cole is no Joey Cole but neither is he Joey Deacon. His commitment is total, his first touch is improving, his confidence is growing and I’m pleasantly surprised that Curbs has taken the right decision to start with him while waiting for Ashton to look more like a lean-mean scoring machine than the Honey Monster.
I haven’t made a prediction since the first game of the season so here goes: 2-1, first goal a screamer by Great Scott. If I’m wrong, don’t despair, just let it roll on to Saturday.
So he’s finally turned up and he’s making a big difference. Apparently Scott Parker wasn’t hidden in the boot of Curbishley’s car after all, or snatched and sold to a childless couple in Morocco. It has now been revealed that he’s part of a completely different newspaper story. He reported for training at Chadwell Heath after disappearing for about five years and said, “I think I’m a missing person. I used to be a combative and creative midfielder and I might have once played for Chelsea, or was it Charlton. I can’t really remember.” Well, wherever he has been, Scott Parker is back and the whole team looks stronger, has more shape and are playing more purposefully. My only regret is that I never had the opportunity to do a Scott Parker-based spoof on children’s books such as “Where’s Spot?” or “Where’s Wally?” Mind you, I could write a book called “Where’s Bellamy?” instead.
Anyway, the return of our micro-player is certainly having an effect. Coming on as a second half substitute against Spurs, Scotty looked dangerous every time he ran through the middle right at them. A week later, undaunted by Chelski’s billionaire brigade he led by example in the middle of the pitch, stopping and blocking practically every Chelski advance and trying whenever possible to turn defence into attack. At Blackburn’s half-empty stadium I thought he was “Man/Boy of the Match”. When he grows up and reaches full height, well, who knows what his prospects could be?
Four points was a reasonable return from three tricky games – and we could have got more. One goal was never going to be enough against a Spurs team sitting in a false position in the table and with their expectations lifted by a change of manager. In the end we could have lost 2-1 as a result of the worst refereeing display I have seen in more than 40 years of coming to games at Upton Park. He gave a penalty in injury time for the most innocuous challenge all day. It was certainly a blood and thunder local derby with lots of aggressive challenges to win 50-50 balls, but, whether it was our players or theirs, I felt that nearly every hard tackle was a genuine attempt to get the ball.
Football fans often feel that their team has been hard done by a crap referee but when they analyse the statistics from the game they usually find that there was only a small discrepancy in decisions going the other team’s way. When I got home after the Spurs game I went straight to the Sporting Life website to check the stats on the game. It was there in black and white. Mike Blimey awarded West Ham five free kicks for Spurs fouls. He had given Spurs 33 – yes 33 - free kicks for alleged West Ham fouls!
When I first started watching West Ham you used to get the usual jibes against refs suggesting they were visually challenged, but you rarely felt that your team had been completely f***** over by someone who just didn’t know what they were doing.
In those days refs were more often pulled up for having played advantage and let the game flow, rather than give free kicks. The most famous case concerned a ref with the wonderful name of Ray Tinkler in charge of a game at Leeds once (not against West Ham). Both teams had stopped after a pretty bad foul. The ball meanwhile had rolled to a Leeds striker Mick Jones who was just inside the opponents’ half. After what seemed an eternity, Tinkler waved play on, and Mick Jones was on a one on one with the goalie and scored!
I was at school at the time and whenever anyone did a crunching leg-breaking foul, some wag (ok, often me) would say: “Referee Ray Tinkler says play on”.
So how does the FA explain away a performance like Mike Riley’s against Spurs? And how on earth is he allowed to continue in his job? In these Big Brother days when everything is monitored and scrutinised to the nth degree it seems there is still no accountability at all for poor refereeing.
Although, if he hadn’t have given the Spuds that dubious penalty we would not have enjoyed one of our golden moments watching that mercenary Defoe being denied from the penalty spot by Robert Green with a fantastic full stretch save. So thanks, then Blind Mike Riley – you made my day.
I can’t remember the last time a West Ham goalie has saved three penalties before we were even half way through the season – maybe there are some anoraks out there with little going on in their life who can check and confirm this statistic.
It would have been a great injustice if Spurs had scored because although they played well and took the game to us, we had the best opportunities and attempts on goal. Unfortunately Robinson gave the kind of display he’s been unable to reproduce for England, making three exceptional saves from good attempts by Rigor Mortis, Ashton and little Scotty.
We didn’t nick it in the end but there was enough in that performance to give me some confidence before the trip to Stamford Bridge. Enough actually, for me to put a couple of bets on, with the Hammers to win 1-0 (19-1) or 2-1 (28-1). At the end of the first half where we had handled ourselves extremely well – being quick in the tackle, composed at the back while making occasional real chances– I had faith that one of my bets might still come off. In the end I think we may have been undone by substitution that weakened rather than strengthened our team at a crucial time. Ljungberg looked scared of upsetting his hair-do and Ashton looked overweight and off the pace. The other factor is that two of our best chances fell to Nobby Solano. For a midfielder, Solano has a Martin Peters-type ability to ghost unchecked into scoring positions. Only trouble is that he is as effective in front of goal as Martin from EastEnders was in keeping his temper.
The goal that beat us may have been marginally offside and we deserved a point, but it is no great shame or disaster to lose by a single goal at the Bridge and we certainly made up for any disappointment with a solid and well-worked victory at the half-empty Blackburn stadium.
I don’t know why I enjoy beating Blackburn so much – they have several players I admire and I quite like their strip even if its not as striking as their blue and white quarters of yesteryear. Maybe it’s simply that the Neanderthal Savage plays for them and there are few players I loathe more than Lily. In fact there are no players I loathe more than Lily Savage.
The game against Blackburn was a useful barometer of our progress. They will be there or thereabouts when it comes to the dogfight for European places at the tail-end of the season and showing that we can more than match them on their manor bodes well for the second half of the season when hopefully we can thrown Faubert into the equation and bring back a fully fit Bellamy. If we can stay nearer to the Euro-battle than to the drop zone by the end of December, and Curbs shows a bit of real ambition, then we may actually attract the players in January who can lift us to the next level.
With four games to play before the half way stage in the season we’ve already got more than half the points we will need to survive and we are holding down a place in the top ten with a very positive goal difference. Tonight we’ve got a chance to progress into the semi-finals of the Coco the Clown Cup, we’ve got a home draw in the FA Cup and are still packing Upton Park for every game, even the ones shown on Scumbag Murdoch’s media. We’ve got good reasons to be optimistic.
Before I sign off though, I’ve just got to go to the oven to heat up some humble pie. I’ve got to admit that we owe some of our progress to a guy called Carlton Cole who has given 110% in the last few games. Carlton Cole is no Joey Cole but neither is he Joey Deacon. His commitment is total, his first touch is improving, his confidence is growing and I’m pleasantly surprised that Curbs has taken the right decision to start with him while waiting for Ashton to look more like a lean-mean scoring machine than the Honey Monster.
I haven’t made a prediction since the first game of the season so here goes: 2-1, first goal a screamer by Great Scott. If I’m wrong, don’t despair, just let it roll on to Saturday.
Sweet Dreams are Made of This
OLAS 425 25th NOVEMBER 2007
I had an amazing dream the other night – but I can’t really tell you about that. So I’ll tell you about my dream the following night. It was totally surreal – I was watching Match of the Day and West Ham were on the box. It didn’t look like Upton Park so they must have been playing away. And they were winning 5-0. Seriously! And Carlton Cole deftly set up a couple of the goals – yeah right!
Now when I dream about football matches there are usually strange images that tell me that this is definitely a dream – like the goalposts don’t have nets or the stands seem to reach to the sky. But this dream was so, so real. It looked like they were playing against Derby. In the end I knew it had to be a dream because those anally retentive pundits on this ethereal Match of the Day were full of praise for West Ham’s incisive football and saying how well they had played. And we all know that hasn’t happened on MOTD all season.
Anyway, I woke up in a happy sweat and got back to life in the real world. But it was fun while it lasted. By the way how did we get on against Derby? Must buy a paper, and check it out.
While I’m doing that I’ll also scan the papers to see if there have been any more sightings of Scott Parker, in Morocco, or anywhere else. Some reports suggest he may have been kidnapped after all. Though they are also checking the boot of Curbishley’s car. It was clearly very negligent of the Curbishleys to nip out for some jellied eels while leaving little Scotty, just 27 years old, on his own nursing his injury, when anybody could have broken in and taken him.
Anyway back to the stuff that’s made of dreams. It’s not completely unheard of for West Ham to score five away from home, though it hasn’t happened for a while. I remember a muddy afternoon in Manchester (no surprises there then) where Jimmy Greaves made his debut for the Hammers against Citeh. We won 5-1. Of course, Greavsie scored two that day, but the moment from that game that remains embedded in my memory was when Citeh’s goalie, Joe Corrigan, ran up and took a goal kick against the wind. He didn’t get that much on it but it was still sailing towards the halfway line. He started to walk slowly back towards his goal, only the ball got there first. It had landed on the boot of Ronnie Boyce about 40 yards out, who had volleyed it straight back again into the net.
Ronnie Boyce – the last minute teenage hero of the ‘64 cup final was a quiet and unassuming midfielder who liked to stay out of the limelight, but who was widely admired for the accuracy of his passing. They used to say about Ronnie Boyce that he could land a ball on a sixpence from 50 yards away. I’m sure he could, but why would anyone want to do that?
Another occasion in the same era, we were trailing 1-0 at Sunderland after an hour but then scored five goals in just 13 minutes – including a rare one by Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry Redknapp on the wing. So maybe we really did put five past Derby. If it’s true, then it should set us up nicely for the game against Spurs, who seem to be just waking from a long sleep themselves with their thumping victory over Wigan. I couldn’t decide what I wanted more before that game – Spurs to embarrass themselves again or Wigan to get a big beating – a bit like being faced with a choice who to hit with a baseball bat, David Cameron or Tony Blair. What a dilemma! Well, that’s history now.
All of us long-suffering and much ripped-off fans are due a big game at Upton Park where we compete for 90 minutes and come out on top through skill, determination and strength. How we got four points from the home games against Sunderland and Bolton is at least as mysterious as the whereabouts of Scott Parker. We barely deserved two. Bolton were there for the taking in the first half but we did our best to keep them in the game and handed them a hatful of chances. It was Bolton’s own failings, rather than our dogged defending that kept things running until the 93rd minute before we conceded.
Spurs will be a tough game. However much we enjoyed seeing them in the nether regions of the premiership table, we know that’s not their real position. They’ve got a lot of talented players who can hit the net but their major weakness is their defence, so if we can bring back at least 3 of our walking wounded (Ashton, Bellamy, Noble), if we can dominate the play and keep the ball mainly in their half and win the odd free kick near their area for our little Peruvian, we’re in with a good chance. And a handsome result against the spuds will give us impetus for what looks like a difficult month in December – away to Chelski and Blackburn – home to Everton, Man U and Reading.
Lose to Spurs, though, and I’m worried that we may begin a run of defeats. So there’s no room for bad or indifferent performances today. It’s not a day either for the back four to continually pass the ball horizontally. It’s a day for being positive and direct and giving it all for at least 90 minutes and, if necessary, 94.
I guess, like me, many of you have received that enticing brochure of West Ham merchandise this week. I am certainly tempted by the West ham cat bowl (for my two cats, not for me) but I thought they missed a trick or two for those fans who really want to share in the lives of their heroes, so here is “David’s List of Alternative West Ham Merchandise” from the “Fully Fit – My Arse” range:
Hammers crutches: the perfect accessory for the beginning of the season – available with forward, midfield or defence labels in West Ham colours – (special offer: buy one get one free). These crutches are also available for a one-year loan period, or “Ashton” as its known, at a reduced rate.
Hammers stretcher/bed – the perfect way to while away those Saturday afternoons after watching your favourite stars playing for their country in midweek. Signed by Bellamy and Ljungberg. Recommended by former Hammer Yossi Benayoun “I used it after every Israel game, while the rest of the lads had to run their butts off in a league game – believe me, it is so comfortable. Shalom.”
Do You Have a Hernia or What? A family board-game for two to four players (or sometimes it seems like the whole ******* team). You start at Chadwell Heath on a Wednesday and you’re aiming to get to Upton Park by 3 o’clock on Saturday but watch out for the hernia! Pick up a hernia and it’s back to Chadwell Heath, then to the hospital and you’re out the game. Recommended by…sorry, the list is too long)
Delivery time: 6 months – 6 years/When Faubert or Dyer next plays/when Britain gets out of Iraq – whichever is the sooner. Express delivery by Lee Bowyer.*
*Sorry the express delivery is now unavailable as he’s… got a hernia
Don’t you dream of the time when we can put out a full strength team? Sweet dreams are made of this...
Enjoy the game – Come on You Irons!!!
I had an amazing dream the other night – but I can’t really tell you about that. So I’ll tell you about my dream the following night. It was totally surreal – I was watching Match of the Day and West Ham were on the box. It didn’t look like Upton Park so they must have been playing away. And they were winning 5-0. Seriously! And Carlton Cole deftly set up a couple of the goals – yeah right!
Now when I dream about football matches there are usually strange images that tell me that this is definitely a dream – like the goalposts don’t have nets or the stands seem to reach to the sky. But this dream was so, so real. It looked like they were playing against Derby. In the end I knew it had to be a dream because those anally retentive pundits on this ethereal Match of the Day were full of praise for West Ham’s incisive football and saying how well they had played. And we all know that hasn’t happened on MOTD all season.
Anyway, I woke up in a happy sweat and got back to life in the real world. But it was fun while it lasted. By the way how did we get on against Derby? Must buy a paper, and check it out.
While I’m doing that I’ll also scan the papers to see if there have been any more sightings of Scott Parker, in Morocco, or anywhere else. Some reports suggest he may have been kidnapped after all. Though they are also checking the boot of Curbishley’s car. It was clearly very negligent of the Curbishleys to nip out for some jellied eels while leaving little Scotty, just 27 years old, on his own nursing his injury, when anybody could have broken in and taken him.
Anyway back to the stuff that’s made of dreams. It’s not completely unheard of for West Ham to score five away from home, though it hasn’t happened for a while. I remember a muddy afternoon in Manchester (no surprises there then) where Jimmy Greaves made his debut for the Hammers against Citeh. We won 5-1. Of course, Greavsie scored two that day, but the moment from that game that remains embedded in my memory was when Citeh’s goalie, Joe Corrigan, ran up and took a goal kick against the wind. He didn’t get that much on it but it was still sailing towards the halfway line. He started to walk slowly back towards his goal, only the ball got there first. It had landed on the boot of Ronnie Boyce about 40 yards out, who had volleyed it straight back again into the net.
Ronnie Boyce – the last minute teenage hero of the ‘64 cup final was a quiet and unassuming midfielder who liked to stay out of the limelight, but who was widely admired for the accuracy of his passing. They used to say about Ronnie Boyce that he could land a ball on a sixpence from 50 yards away. I’m sure he could, but why would anyone want to do that?
Another occasion in the same era, we were trailing 1-0 at Sunderland after an hour but then scored five goals in just 13 minutes – including a rare one by Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry Redknapp on the wing. So maybe we really did put five past Derby. If it’s true, then it should set us up nicely for the game against Spurs, who seem to be just waking from a long sleep themselves with their thumping victory over Wigan. I couldn’t decide what I wanted more before that game – Spurs to embarrass themselves again or Wigan to get a big beating – a bit like being faced with a choice who to hit with a baseball bat, David Cameron or Tony Blair. What a dilemma! Well, that’s history now.
All of us long-suffering and much ripped-off fans are due a big game at Upton Park where we compete for 90 minutes and come out on top through skill, determination and strength. How we got four points from the home games against Sunderland and Bolton is at least as mysterious as the whereabouts of Scott Parker. We barely deserved two. Bolton were there for the taking in the first half but we did our best to keep them in the game and handed them a hatful of chances. It was Bolton’s own failings, rather than our dogged defending that kept things running until the 93rd minute before we conceded.
Spurs will be a tough game. However much we enjoyed seeing them in the nether regions of the premiership table, we know that’s not their real position. They’ve got a lot of talented players who can hit the net but their major weakness is their defence, so if we can bring back at least 3 of our walking wounded (Ashton, Bellamy, Noble), if we can dominate the play and keep the ball mainly in their half and win the odd free kick near their area for our little Peruvian, we’re in with a good chance. And a handsome result against the spuds will give us impetus for what looks like a difficult month in December – away to Chelski and Blackburn – home to Everton, Man U and Reading.
Lose to Spurs, though, and I’m worried that we may begin a run of defeats. So there’s no room for bad or indifferent performances today. It’s not a day either for the back four to continually pass the ball horizontally. It’s a day for being positive and direct and giving it all for at least 90 minutes and, if necessary, 94.
I guess, like me, many of you have received that enticing brochure of West Ham merchandise this week. I am certainly tempted by the West ham cat bowl (for my two cats, not for me) but I thought they missed a trick or two for those fans who really want to share in the lives of their heroes, so here is “David’s List of Alternative West Ham Merchandise” from the “Fully Fit – My Arse” range:
Hammers crutches: the perfect accessory for the beginning of the season – available with forward, midfield or defence labels in West Ham colours – (special offer: buy one get one free). These crutches are also available for a one-year loan period, or “Ashton” as its known, at a reduced rate.
Hammers stretcher/bed – the perfect way to while away those Saturday afternoons after watching your favourite stars playing for their country in midweek. Signed by Bellamy and Ljungberg. Recommended by former Hammer Yossi Benayoun “I used it after every Israel game, while the rest of the lads had to run their butts off in a league game – believe me, it is so comfortable. Shalom.”
Do You Have a Hernia or What? A family board-game for two to four players (or sometimes it seems like the whole ******* team). You start at Chadwell Heath on a Wednesday and you’re aiming to get to Upton Park by 3 o’clock on Saturday but watch out for the hernia! Pick up a hernia and it’s back to Chadwell Heath, then to the hospital and you’re out the game. Recommended by…sorry, the list is too long)
Delivery time: 6 months – 6 years/When Faubert or Dyer next plays/when Britain gets out of Iraq – whichever is the sooner. Express delivery by Lee Bowyer.*
*Sorry the express delivery is now unavailable as he’s… got a hernia
Don’t you dream of the time when we can put out a full strength team? Sweet dreams are made of this...
Enjoy the game – Come on You Irons!!!
Vote Green!
OLAS 424 NOVEMBER 4TH 2007
For far too long England’s penalty area has been polluted with rubbish and waste. We are sleepwalking to disaster. The nation’s goalposts are being neglected by the selfishness and shortsightedness that typifies the outmoded and hazardous approach of McClarenism. Energy resources are needlessly wasted, while opportunities to gain points are being depleted. Instead of policies for development, we get more noxious gases emanating from McClaren. We need to bring safety and self-confidence back to our penalty area, now, and for the next generation. Patching up our net with a Robinson or James will not stop the rot.
We need a fair and sustainable solution!
We need a Green solution to secure our goal!
We’ll only be safe in Green hands!
The time for Green revolution is now!
Vote Green!
That was a party political broadcast on behalf of the (Robert) Green Party. If you support these policies, please send a recycled postcard to McClaren saying “Oy, McClaren, you tosser/donut/git, put Green in goal. Vote Green”. Thank you. Every card helps.
The penalty save that gave the Hammers a more than deserved point at Portsmouth capped an altogether fine display of shot stopping, anticipation and agility. Greeny’s only lapses were in his kicking, but surely it is better to have a goalie who can be absolutely relied on to save from close range and distance than one who might kick more consistently but can’t anticipate or save regularly.
Too many times this season Robert Green has been our one shining light but the performance of the whole team at Portsmouth should give us hope. The commitment and desire that has been lacking in nearly every game up to now was shown by every player at Portsmouth. And with a bit of luck and application we could have taken all three points.
While Curbs has been constructing a hospital waiting room at Upton Park, Harry has built a quick, skilful and energetic team at Portsmouth. They showed a lot of attacking flair in the first half but we always looked dangerous on the break and certainly had our chances. As the second half wore on West ham looked the most likely team to score, and should have – but we were denied by the bar and then by Nobby Solano choosing to close his eyes as he dived to nod the rebound, managing to put it past the post with the goal at his mercy. He gets in great positions but his tendency to go in for headers blind meant that he wasted a very good opportunity in the first half too.
I don’t want to be too hard on the little hermano though because he’s come in and done a terrific job in midfield. I’d go as far as to say that he’s by far the best Peruvian player ever to play for West Ham. He may be getting on a bit but he looks twice the player that Bowyer is, and is surely much better on the trumpet. He’s strong in the tackle, a quick and accurate passer, takes good corners and gives us more options with free kicks within shooting range.
Alongside him I though Mark Noble was outstanding – full of running, determination and guile, always looking to go forward – and unlucky not to score with a wicked free kick that David James only just tipped over.
I ought to mention too the players who have disappointed me most before this game, but who performed extremely well at Fratton Park. Natialie held the front line as best he could and only the bar denied him from a well-worked chance, struck with power on target. Heather looked very solid at the back and a persistent threat coming forward, and Rigor Mortis finally looked the “beast of a player” that Gary described him as when he arrived from Fulham.
It was a tough decision whether to start with Rigor or Ethers but given that Portsmouth are quite a physical team, and we were lacking at least one of our key physical assets (Deano) I think for once Curbs made the right decision. (That doesn’t mean I like Curbs – I don’t.) And with Bellamy leaving at half time, before he would have got himself sent off, we were able to give Ethers half a game and the opportunity to play alongside Boa Morte.
It was good to see Lucas Neil give a more commanding performance, though he still got caught out of position a couple of times. We continue to give the ball away cheaply but our determination in the tackle and tracking back were first rate, so whatever mistakes we made we survived unscathed. I’m still not convinced by Upson though. He makes a few crucial tackles and wins a few headers but loses far more than he wins. And the only thing he excels at is the long ball to nowhere in particular. I’d much rather see Ginge or Anton in his place.
Some will have judged the penalty harsh but I think it was a penalty. If it had happened at the other end we would have clamed it. Of course, it would have been an absolute injustice if Benjani had scored and I’m sure Harry had a plate of sandwiches or two to throw around in their dressing room afterwards. Deep down though he’ll be relieved that his high flying team got a point when they could have lost all three.
The Sunderland game was an entirely different kettle of mackerel. I couldn’t believe it as I was leaving - the crowd around me were singing, “Fortune’s always hiding”. Hiding? You’re having a laugh. Fortune was sprinkled all over us. At half time I predicted we would end up losing 2-1 and even that would have flattered us given the chances we gifted Sunderland. But somehow the fortune cookies stayed in our tummies and we could have even made it 4-1.
At least nobody claimed that we were good value for the result because apart from a few purple patches we were absolute shite. The best gloss you could put on it is that in these times of selfishness and greed we were completely unselfish. We would put two passes together and then pass the ball to the opposition as if to say, “go on - it’s your turn now”. And we didn’t just do it once. Oh no, we maintained an unblemished record of unselfishness all bloody afternoon.
Let’s hope the improvement continues when we welcome Notlob, where I confidently predict they will come with a better looking manager than Sam Allardyce or Sammy Lee – both of whom could have had glittering careers in film: Allardyce for those caveman roles (perognathus skull, grunting sounds, knuckles scraping the floor) and Lee, for your more modern horror film. My partner Julia is not a footie fan but sometimes passes through the living room when Match of the Day is on, like I pass through the kitchen when the Archers is on (I can recognise Eddie Grundy’s voice). The time she saw Allardyce being interviewed, she stopped in amazement and shrieked, “What is that?”
Before Notlob we get sent to Coventry for a tough test but one I hope we’ll be well up to after the Portsmouth display.
So, with over a quarter of the season played, we’re starting to see the pattern of the league. One or two surprises like Man City sitting up with the big boys, Arsenals juniors managing to keep up their too, while their close neighbours Tottenham are temporarily sitting in the drop zone. We’re in the middle, about where I anticipated, slightly nearer the top 6 than the drop zone but with just 14 points separating 18 teams outside the top 4 it’s easy for fortunes to change. I don’t think we’ll get much higher than this under Curbs, and could go a lot lower.
I see that Jol is on the dole, that Martin is finally departin’. There are more than a few decent players at Spurs who might like to play for Jol again. And he might prefer to stick around London. Time for a bit of Dutch courage? I think you know what I’m saying.
For far too long England’s penalty area has been polluted with rubbish and waste. We are sleepwalking to disaster. The nation’s goalposts are being neglected by the selfishness and shortsightedness that typifies the outmoded and hazardous approach of McClarenism. Energy resources are needlessly wasted, while opportunities to gain points are being depleted. Instead of policies for development, we get more noxious gases emanating from McClaren. We need to bring safety and self-confidence back to our penalty area, now, and for the next generation. Patching up our net with a Robinson or James will not stop the rot.
We need a fair and sustainable solution!
We need a Green solution to secure our goal!
We’ll only be safe in Green hands!
The time for Green revolution is now!
Vote Green!
That was a party political broadcast on behalf of the (Robert) Green Party. If you support these policies, please send a recycled postcard to McClaren saying “Oy, McClaren, you tosser/donut/git, put Green in goal. Vote Green”. Thank you. Every card helps.
The penalty save that gave the Hammers a more than deserved point at Portsmouth capped an altogether fine display of shot stopping, anticipation and agility. Greeny’s only lapses were in his kicking, but surely it is better to have a goalie who can be absolutely relied on to save from close range and distance than one who might kick more consistently but can’t anticipate or save regularly.
Too many times this season Robert Green has been our one shining light but the performance of the whole team at Portsmouth should give us hope. The commitment and desire that has been lacking in nearly every game up to now was shown by every player at Portsmouth. And with a bit of luck and application we could have taken all three points.
While Curbs has been constructing a hospital waiting room at Upton Park, Harry has built a quick, skilful and energetic team at Portsmouth. They showed a lot of attacking flair in the first half but we always looked dangerous on the break and certainly had our chances. As the second half wore on West ham looked the most likely team to score, and should have – but we were denied by the bar and then by Nobby Solano choosing to close his eyes as he dived to nod the rebound, managing to put it past the post with the goal at his mercy. He gets in great positions but his tendency to go in for headers blind meant that he wasted a very good opportunity in the first half too.
I don’t want to be too hard on the little hermano though because he’s come in and done a terrific job in midfield. I’d go as far as to say that he’s by far the best Peruvian player ever to play for West Ham. He may be getting on a bit but he looks twice the player that Bowyer is, and is surely much better on the trumpet. He’s strong in the tackle, a quick and accurate passer, takes good corners and gives us more options with free kicks within shooting range.
Alongside him I though Mark Noble was outstanding – full of running, determination and guile, always looking to go forward – and unlucky not to score with a wicked free kick that David James only just tipped over.
I ought to mention too the players who have disappointed me most before this game, but who performed extremely well at Fratton Park. Natialie held the front line as best he could and only the bar denied him from a well-worked chance, struck with power on target. Heather looked very solid at the back and a persistent threat coming forward, and Rigor Mortis finally looked the “beast of a player” that Gary described him as when he arrived from Fulham.
It was a tough decision whether to start with Rigor or Ethers but given that Portsmouth are quite a physical team, and we were lacking at least one of our key physical assets (Deano) I think for once Curbs made the right decision. (That doesn’t mean I like Curbs – I don’t.) And with Bellamy leaving at half time, before he would have got himself sent off, we were able to give Ethers half a game and the opportunity to play alongside Boa Morte.
It was good to see Lucas Neil give a more commanding performance, though he still got caught out of position a couple of times. We continue to give the ball away cheaply but our determination in the tackle and tracking back were first rate, so whatever mistakes we made we survived unscathed. I’m still not convinced by Upson though. He makes a few crucial tackles and wins a few headers but loses far more than he wins. And the only thing he excels at is the long ball to nowhere in particular. I’d much rather see Ginge or Anton in his place.
Some will have judged the penalty harsh but I think it was a penalty. If it had happened at the other end we would have clamed it. Of course, it would have been an absolute injustice if Benjani had scored and I’m sure Harry had a plate of sandwiches or two to throw around in their dressing room afterwards. Deep down though he’ll be relieved that his high flying team got a point when they could have lost all three.
The Sunderland game was an entirely different kettle of mackerel. I couldn’t believe it as I was leaving - the crowd around me were singing, “Fortune’s always hiding”. Hiding? You’re having a laugh. Fortune was sprinkled all over us. At half time I predicted we would end up losing 2-1 and even that would have flattered us given the chances we gifted Sunderland. But somehow the fortune cookies stayed in our tummies and we could have even made it 4-1.
At least nobody claimed that we were good value for the result because apart from a few purple patches we were absolute shite. The best gloss you could put on it is that in these times of selfishness and greed we were completely unselfish. We would put two passes together and then pass the ball to the opposition as if to say, “go on - it’s your turn now”. And we didn’t just do it once. Oh no, we maintained an unblemished record of unselfishness all bloody afternoon.
Let’s hope the improvement continues when we welcome Notlob, where I confidently predict they will come with a better looking manager than Sam Allardyce or Sammy Lee – both of whom could have had glittering careers in film: Allardyce for those caveman roles (perognathus skull, grunting sounds, knuckles scraping the floor) and Lee, for your more modern horror film. My partner Julia is not a footie fan but sometimes passes through the living room when Match of the Day is on, like I pass through the kitchen when the Archers is on (I can recognise Eddie Grundy’s voice). The time she saw Allardyce being interviewed, she stopped in amazement and shrieked, “What is that?”
Before Notlob we get sent to Coventry for a tough test but one I hope we’ll be well up to after the Portsmouth display.
So, with over a quarter of the season played, we’re starting to see the pattern of the league. One or two surprises like Man City sitting up with the big boys, Arsenals juniors managing to keep up their too, while their close neighbours Tottenham are temporarily sitting in the drop zone. We’re in the middle, about where I anticipated, slightly nearer the top 6 than the drop zone but with just 14 points separating 18 teams outside the top 4 it’s easy for fortunes to change. I don’t think we’ll get much higher than this under Curbs, and could go a lot lower.
I see that Jol is on the dole, that Martin is finally departin’. There are more than a few decent players at Spurs who might like to play for Jol again. And he might prefer to stick around London. Time for a bit of Dutch courage? I think you know what I’m saying.
Getting Shirty
OLAS 423 OCTOBER 21st 2007
T-shirts and me have always got on well. I’ve been collecting them for years and I find it hard to say goodbye to them, even ones I’ve more than grown out of emotionally, intellectually, and let’s face it, physically. Tucked away deep in my drawers are relics of political campaigns – remember the “People’s March for Jobs 1981? (medium size – those were the days). Then there are the playful and provocative ones “All Coppers are Bastards” against an image of the Z-Cars crew, and the downright pretentious ones with dull grey wording on black “I’m only wearing black until they invent a darker colour”. Plus, of course shedloads of West Ham related shirts – testimony to a long, deep and meaningful love affair founded on total affection, commitment, loyalty, trust and plenty of excitement every week. And I’m still buying them.
My latest acquisition was purchased on the night of the Plymouth bore, from one of the geezers on the stalls near the ground. It’s the shirt with the “Upton Park E13” road sign underscored with “Pride of East London”. I took it home after the game, put it in the drawer with the others, but it won’t come out again. I just can’t bring myself to wear it right now. I’m glad we picked up 10 points early in the campaign this year but I don’t feel any pride in West Ham at the moment. We’re becoming a laughing stock. Not just because of the results, though three defeats on the spin doesn’t exactly lift you.
There’s no great shame in losing by the odd-goal to Arsenal and many teams with squads bursting with talent will go down at Villa Park by more than one goal – as Chelski will tell you. But we’re a laughing stock because we pay silly money for players and silly money to players who can’t take more than the average rough and tumble in a game without being out for weeks. Apart for the Reading game and brief spells in a few of the others, we’ve looked uninspired, sluggish, off the pace, and bereft of ideas and enthusiasm all season. Even in games where we’ve found points we’ve looked there for the taking. We were unfairly denied a goal during a good spell against the Arse but everyone saw the huge gulf in class between us. Huffing and puffing is not enough against teams like that.
With the exception of a few minutes either side of kick off, Upton Park is becoming quiet. We’re losing our identity with the players. I don’t believe in a golden age of yesteryear but things really are so different now. I fell in love with West Ham when they were truly a local club with players whose ultimate idea of success in life was playing for West Ham. And I came to love too the players who started elsewhere but through their attitude became the heart and soul of our team – like Billy Bonds who signed from Charlton and Pop Robson who came from Geordieland and Clyde Best who flew in from Bermuda, Frankie McAvennie…Paulo di Canio...
Players who had the world at their fingertips were happy to do it at Upton Park. In 1967 – the year when Chelsea paid a record £100,000 transfer fee (Tony Hateley) - the league champions in waiting, Man U, offered double that for Geoff Hurst. Ron Greenwood said no and a few days later Hurst penned his name on a further 6 years contract at West Ham before he even asked what his wages would be! Now as a trade unionist that is not something I would encourage but doesn’t it speak volumes about the club we were?
In my formative years as a fan I watched Trevor Brooking make his debut. His silken skills could have graced the stadia of Italy or Spain’s top clubs. He could have appeared in countless European cup finals but he stayed a one-club hammer. Of course those days are long gone, but apart from Mark Noble and Bobby Zamora, who in our squad feels even the slightest bit passionately about playing for us?
Too many of the current squad look as if they are just here for the ride and we are starting to reap the bitter fruit of last year’s reckless transfer policies. Lucas Neil had me fooled for a while with his sparkling displays at the tail end of the season but this year he’s looked as if he’s just going through the motions and he obviously puts his greatest effort into picking up his wages. Look at Upson, Ljungberg, Boa Morte – same syndrome. Add to that scenario the players who really are just not up to competing at this level (Bowyer, Mullins, McCartney, Cole), a manager with as much drive, passion and positivity as a funeral director, and we’re really in quite a sorry state.
There’s a glimmer of hope with Deano and Greeny and maybe with Bellamy. More than anyone Deano has what it takes to become a Hammers’ legend but he’s young and ambitious and if we continue to surround him with superannuated time-servers whose best years are behind them, then he’s just not going to stick around. Green’s a star who knows he should be between the sticks for England. Sooner or later he’s going to ask himself if he might reach that place more easily by being at a more attractive club. Because at the moment we are less attractive than Iain Dowie on a bad day.
Bellamy is a wild card – who could go either way. He comes with a lot of baggage but probably no more than di Canio. I’ve got high hopes for Faubert when he returns from injury – so we might yet turn it around – and I might start to wear my pride t-shirt.
As a whole our current squad seems inadequate to the task of gathering enough points let alone offering us flair and inspiration, so a lot will hinge on the January sales. Are we preparing the ground now to capture young players with flair and desire or are we plotting to provide a resting home for those who have already done it all, and will add nothing but their names and their past glory to our team? Look at the last two transfer windows – been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
My favourite t-shirt of all is sadly not in my possession. I saw a guy wearing it at the Cambridge Folk Festival a few years ago. It was simple and plain with just two words. Low down the back, in the middle there was an arrow pointing downwards. It said elbow. And near the elbow was another arrow – you’ve worked it out. Curbs could wear one too – only it wouldn’t be ironic would it?
So, overpaid tossers, led by a donkey – prove me wrong. Give us back our beautiful game. Show us why we are the Pride of East London. Come On You Iron(ic)s!!!
T-shirts and me have always got on well. I’ve been collecting them for years and I find it hard to say goodbye to them, even ones I’ve more than grown out of emotionally, intellectually, and let’s face it, physically. Tucked away deep in my drawers are relics of political campaigns – remember the “People’s March for Jobs 1981? (medium size – those were the days). Then there are the playful and provocative ones “All Coppers are Bastards” against an image of the Z-Cars crew, and the downright pretentious ones with dull grey wording on black “I’m only wearing black until they invent a darker colour”. Plus, of course shedloads of West Ham related shirts – testimony to a long, deep and meaningful love affair founded on total affection, commitment, loyalty, trust and plenty of excitement every week. And I’m still buying them.
My latest acquisition was purchased on the night of the Plymouth bore, from one of the geezers on the stalls near the ground. It’s the shirt with the “Upton Park E13” road sign underscored with “Pride of East London”. I took it home after the game, put it in the drawer with the others, but it won’t come out again. I just can’t bring myself to wear it right now. I’m glad we picked up 10 points early in the campaign this year but I don’t feel any pride in West Ham at the moment. We’re becoming a laughing stock. Not just because of the results, though three defeats on the spin doesn’t exactly lift you.
There’s no great shame in losing by the odd-goal to Arsenal and many teams with squads bursting with talent will go down at Villa Park by more than one goal – as Chelski will tell you. But we’re a laughing stock because we pay silly money for players and silly money to players who can’t take more than the average rough and tumble in a game without being out for weeks. Apart for the Reading game and brief spells in a few of the others, we’ve looked uninspired, sluggish, off the pace, and bereft of ideas and enthusiasm all season. Even in games where we’ve found points we’ve looked there for the taking. We were unfairly denied a goal during a good spell against the Arse but everyone saw the huge gulf in class between us. Huffing and puffing is not enough against teams like that.
With the exception of a few minutes either side of kick off, Upton Park is becoming quiet. We’re losing our identity with the players. I don’t believe in a golden age of yesteryear but things really are so different now. I fell in love with West Ham when they were truly a local club with players whose ultimate idea of success in life was playing for West Ham. And I came to love too the players who started elsewhere but through their attitude became the heart and soul of our team – like Billy Bonds who signed from Charlton and Pop Robson who came from Geordieland and Clyde Best who flew in from Bermuda, Frankie McAvennie…Paulo di Canio...
Players who had the world at their fingertips were happy to do it at Upton Park. In 1967 – the year when Chelsea paid a record £100,000 transfer fee (Tony Hateley) - the league champions in waiting, Man U, offered double that for Geoff Hurst. Ron Greenwood said no and a few days later Hurst penned his name on a further 6 years contract at West Ham before he even asked what his wages would be! Now as a trade unionist that is not something I would encourage but doesn’t it speak volumes about the club we were?
In my formative years as a fan I watched Trevor Brooking make his debut. His silken skills could have graced the stadia of Italy or Spain’s top clubs. He could have appeared in countless European cup finals but he stayed a one-club hammer. Of course those days are long gone, but apart from Mark Noble and Bobby Zamora, who in our squad feels even the slightest bit passionately about playing for us?
Too many of the current squad look as if they are just here for the ride and we are starting to reap the bitter fruit of last year’s reckless transfer policies. Lucas Neil had me fooled for a while with his sparkling displays at the tail end of the season but this year he’s looked as if he’s just going through the motions and he obviously puts his greatest effort into picking up his wages. Look at Upson, Ljungberg, Boa Morte – same syndrome. Add to that scenario the players who really are just not up to competing at this level (Bowyer, Mullins, McCartney, Cole), a manager with as much drive, passion and positivity as a funeral director, and we’re really in quite a sorry state.
There’s a glimmer of hope with Deano and Greeny and maybe with Bellamy. More than anyone Deano has what it takes to become a Hammers’ legend but he’s young and ambitious and if we continue to surround him with superannuated time-servers whose best years are behind them, then he’s just not going to stick around. Green’s a star who knows he should be between the sticks for England. Sooner or later he’s going to ask himself if he might reach that place more easily by being at a more attractive club. Because at the moment we are less attractive than Iain Dowie on a bad day.
Bellamy is a wild card – who could go either way. He comes with a lot of baggage but probably no more than di Canio. I’ve got high hopes for Faubert when he returns from injury – so we might yet turn it around – and I might start to wear my pride t-shirt.
As a whole our current squad seems inadequate to the task of gathering enough points let alone offering us flair and inspiration, so a lot will hinge on the January sales. Are we preparing the ground now to capture young players with flair and desire or are we plotting to provide a resting home for those who have already done it all, and will add nothing but their names and their past glory to our team? Look at the last two transfer windows – been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
My favourite t-shirt of all is sadly not in my possession. I saw a guy wearing it at the Cambridge Folk Festival a few years ago. It was simple and plain with just two words. Low down the back, in the middle there was an arrow pointing downwards. It said elbow. And near the elbow was another arrow – you’ve worked it out. Curbs could wear one too – only it wouldn’t be ironic would it?
So, overpaid tossers, led by a donkey – prove me wrong. Give us back our beautiful game. Show us why we are the Pride of East London. Come On You Iron(ic)s!!!
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