The circus comes to town

OLAS 451 January 3rd 2009

People do have irrational fears. For some it’s spiders or earwigs. For others it’s facial hair or talking babies in films. Some people fear certain situations – like confined spaces or darkness. But one that I’ve always found it hard to get my head around is “Coulrophobia” – a fear of clowns. I love them but I know that not everyone does. And I’m well aware that one of the great voices of our times, Bart Simpson, famously said: “Can’t sleep, clown will eat me.”

After the Stoke game I feel I ought to issue a loud and clear warning to any coulrophobics out there to avoid Upton Park. The match was a 90-minute circus. End to end yes, but a circus nevertheless. Shambolic defending in both areas; promising moves breaking down by pathetically misplaced passes behind rather than in front of players; the referee sliding over; shots that would go anywhere but on target, Slowbear Faubert grinning inanely as he overlapped and even went round defenders only to plant his crosses somewhere in the upper stand; Carlton Cole at his profligate worst, then turning on a sixpence to plant a beautiful goal in the corner; and, of course, Stoke City’s unique contribution – players on the same team slapping and shoving each other (which the ref failed to see the funny side of). all they needed were some cakes to push in each other’s faces.

Clowns walk that tightrope and swing that trapeze between the extremes of happiness and sadness. Apparently this is the root cause of some of the fears about them. Their smile is not real but painted on (bet some of you didn’t know that) and you can only guess their “real” emotions. Well West Ham’s clowns confused and upset me a little bit against Stoke, and I don’t think I was the only one in the ground who, for most of the game, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

At the final whistle though I was laughing like a drain. Three bizarre points popped into the bag. A player whose glittering international reputation was built on a series of spectacular strikes fell to his knees in joy after the ball bounced off him into the goal in the 88th minute. And suddenly we were back in the top half of the table. The news that Tottenham had lost 2-0 to the bottom club crowned the day. I laughed till the tears rolled down my legs.

Over the years I’ve become accustomed to West Ham, looking like a bunch of Christmas puds, struggling to pick up any points over the Christmas period, so 6 points from the two games this year is a real bonus and I’m pleased and relieved for Zola and Clarke. Even better, the points were gained at the expense of the right teams. It would have certainly been a wheeze to have won at Liverpool and Chelsea then drawn with Portsmouth and Stoke, but Liverpool and Chelsea are not our rivals in any meaningful sense, and it is much more useful to take points off the other teams struggling to pull clear of relegation worries.

So just over the halfway mark we find ourselves in 10th place, still only five points above the drop zone, but at the same time able to set our sights on dislodging the teams immediately above us – Fulham, Hull and Wigan – two of whom will visit Upton Park in January. Fulham are pulling off some impressive results, but player for player we should at least match them, and we won at Craven Cottage back in September. Hull are in a false position, still propelled by the adrenalin of promotion but running out of juice and they face a tough, tough second half of the season. Wigan are an enigma, a yo-yo side, capable of testing the best and struggling against the worst (bit like us really) but again we’ve already turned them over once this season.

The top six are established now and their mini-league is probably closed off to others for the rest of the campaign. Some people may be mildly interested who wins the title – I’m not, but I’d like to see Villa and Everton push the Arse into 6th place. Below them is one huge free-for-all where just 10 points separate 14 teams. And with the bottom team on 18 points at this stage, reaching 40 points may not prove enough to keep a team in the top flight. Every match from here on in, when any of these 14 teams face each other, is a relegation battle.

On the field, despite the dodgy win against Stoke, West Ham are definitely on an upward trajectory. Eleven points from the last seven games compares favourably with just two points from the previous seven. And with a bit of luck we might have got more. Unfortunately, it is off the field though that our fate will most likely be decided and here is where we might indulge in some collective coulrophobia – because who knows what stunts the clowns running this club of ours will pull next? Unlike cases of true coulrophobia, our fears are totally, totally rational.

If Gary’s source is accurate and every single player we possess is potentially up for sale during January, then all the efforts of the last few weeks to turn it around will come to nought. Our squad is lacking in quality, not blessed with an abundance of it, and letting go of any of our top players now for a quick buck would be suicidal.

The first indication of whether our fears are accurate will come today in the distraction of the F.A. Cup. If a couple of our star players are missing, don’t be fooled by the rationalisation that the Cup offers the chance to give some other squad players a run-out; and don’t believe any tales of players laid down low by flu or viruses. It’s bollox - because essentially it translates to: “These players are being transferred and the buyers refuse to meet the asking price if they are cup-tied.” Which is why I will be mighty relieved to see Bellend, Nobes and Greeny out there today, and why I suspect that at least one of them, possibly more, will mysteriously not appear.

Leaving my paranoia aside, a cup run would be a major boost during a difficult season. As Portsmouth showed last year, and we ourselves showed under Pardew, the cup can be a great leveller. Barnsley did well against top-flight sides last year and will be no pushovers. I’ve got a soft spot for Baaaaarnsleee – nothing to do with football though. It was the birthplace of great comedians like Harry Worth and Charlie Williams (ask your mum – she’ll remember them), singer/songwriter Kate Rusby and trade unionist/serial Thatcher-hater Arthur Scargill, which makes it a top location in my view.

Scargill may be a fanatical Leeds supporter and, yes, he did that annoying Bobby Charlton thing with his hair, but he knew what Thatcher was doing with the mines from day one. The mines have gone, and in many of the desolated villages left behind the only expanding industry today is selling heroin. Young empty lives lost to escapism from misery and unemployment while the demented old bat is still flitting about.

Now Charlie Williams was actually a professional footballer playing centre half for Doncaster Rovers before becoming a comedian. With great honesty he described his footballing prowess: “I was never a fancy player but I could stop them buggers that were.” He would have seen the irony last Sunday at Upton Park, where several comedians were masquerading as footballers. Let’s hope that today the emphasis is on serious fun and that we ensure a place in the fourth round draw. So here’s to a great 2009 where all our fears prove unfounded and our dreams don’t fade or die. See you at Wembley. COYI!!!