OLAS 422 SEPTEMBER 29th 2007
It was the 13th minute of the 1980 Cup Final – unlucky for some – when Trevor Brooking fell backwards and headed Stuart Pearson’s half-cross-half-shot past Pat Jennings. First Division Arsenal 0 Second Division West Ham 1. It would have been twice as humiliating for the Arse if Willie Young hadn’t hacked down 17-year-old Paul Allen who was on a one-on-one with Jennings with two minutes to go.
The roar that went up for Trev’s goal was massive but nothing compared with the wall of sound when Bonzo held up the trophy. The best moment though was yet to come. It was on the way home. At the time I was working as a van driver and had borrowed the firm’s van over the weekend. As we headed East from Wembley for the celebration outside Upton park, we found ourselves in the backstreets of North London, where glum looking Arsenal supporters were busy pulling down the bunting and putting away the food and drink from the street parties that never happened. We were stuck in some traffic near Caledonian Road and all we could do was sit and watch this dismal procedure for about twenty minutes. Quality.
All right, some of you may be youngsters whose significant memory of West Ham v Arsenal is Bobby Zamora turning Sol Cambell inside out at Highbury the other year, or Paulo di Canio tormenting them in that fabulous 2-1 victory back in 2000 as he collected a long pass lifted the ball over Martin Keown and half volleyed it beyond Seaman for the winning goal.
There were other moments in the 20 years between these events - wins in the league and cup at Highbury…those were the days…
Why am I looking backwards? Why am I engaged in the fight for a better past? Because I don’t particularly want to look forward to this afternoon’s encounter. Arsenal are on fire at the moment, and though there are encouraging signs with Deano looking meaner by the day and our midfield gelling with quick fire passes, I don’t seriously think we are any match for Arsenal.
Our only chances hinge on three factors: firstly Arsenal’s own nervousness at playing a team they ought to beat regularly but haven’t for three years; West ham’s ex-Arsenal players being determined to shine – with Upson giving nothing away at the back and Ljungberg creating chances up front; and lastly if we take the game to them without fear and are prepared to match them physically in challenging for every ball and running for 90 minutes – or should I say 95 as the refs like to give the big guns some extra time.
It may be unlikely but let’s see if we can wipe the smile off Arsene Wenger’s visage, because when it comes to our battles in the last three years I know you will join me in saying “je ne regret rien, Buster.”
Talking of French woe, when I read this week that the greatest ever French mime artist, Marcel Marceau had died, I was speechless and genuinely saddened by his passing. When I saw West Ham’s first half performance against Plymouth I have to say that their passing brought me pretty close to tears too. It was like a homage to Marceau – a tableau of empty gestures that the crowd was challenged to find deeper meaning from.
Stepping away from a freezing Upton Park I heard a youngster say to his dad “well I suppose that’s the best time to score a goal.” And I thought, “No! – What about the first minute rather than the last? What about the 5th or the 10th? And what’s wrong with the 25th or 30th (fill in your favourite number here)? Silly boy.”
On the 45th minute when they announced there would be at least two minutes of injury time I turned to the guy next to me and said “I think we need two hours.” And I wasn’t far out. The Plymouth Brethren put up a plucky and skilful display and could have made more of the chances they created. But ultimately the saviour was on our side – one Deano Ashton – who had swapped into his magical orangey red boots at half time. As the ball left his boot in the 91st minute I could hear in my head Elvis Costello – “My Aim is True” – which was a welcome change from the Abbot and Costello show we had witnessed for the first 90 minutes.
So into the hat for the last 16, while a few more premiership sides bite the dust. Can’t be bad. And while I am shifting to a positive mood I am now willing to accept that Scott Parker exists. Since I cast doubt on his existence in my last column there have been several claimed sightings (though some of them looked more like Madeleine McCann). But the most convincing one was out there on the Upton Park pitch against Plymouth – a tidy player wearing number 8 who actually showed he wanted the ball and always looked up for the option of threading through a clever pass to the forwards.
While I would still hold that his parents may have something to do with his disappearance, I think we all have to accept he is alive. Whether the rest of the team is still alive, on the evidence of their performance against Plymouth, is more difficult to assess. Still it was good to see Great Scott out there – he’s a small man who will be a big player for us. And good to see Kyle Reid being given a chance. I find him a lot more likeable than his brother, the former Home Secretary. He’s a bit one footed but he’s combative and looks really comfortable driving down the wing.
So mes amis, back to today’s game. The questions is what will give – Arsenal’s winning run or Deano’s run of goals? If you’re looking for an omen I have to tell you that I scored a rare goal this Tuesday with a cheeky lob in my weekly veteran’s football against a team top heavy with goners. And as Elvis Costello reminds us: “Accidents will happen”. Come On You Irons!!!
Friday, 11 April 2008
Pinball wizard
OLAS 421 26Tth SEPTEMBER 2007
Do you ever feel you are living in a parallel universe? That you’ve seen something happen with your own eyes but anther person who was there at the same time saw it completely differently. That’s how I felt the morning after the Middlesborough game as I flicked through the Observer Sport pages. When I found the West Ham report it was there in black and white: “Man of the Match Carlton Cole”. I believe it’s what they call an oxymoron – a self contradictory statement – like “military intelligence” or “loose tights”.
Now you can’t fault Carlton’s desire or effort, but for most of his time on the pitch after he replaced Bellend, his first touch was so bad it brought back long-suppressed memories of Paulo Wanchope. To be fair though it also brought back happier memories of playing pinball and not knowing in which direction the ball would bounce as you flicked it away from the danger zone. Instead of Carlton Cole controlling the ball, the ball seems to control him. Though when you really sit down and think about it, playing pinball is much more fun than watching Carlton Cole.
There was a wonderful moment, however, late in the game, when everyone except me was shouting something much less complimentary than “man of the match” at him. He had just fluffed a chance my grandmother would have netted, which would have put the Hammers 4-0 up. He was just 8 yards out. But I was secretly smiling, as I had assured my friend’s son before the game it would end 3-0, and I wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that prediction, least of all a lummox who can’t score from 8 yards!
So who was my man of the match? One of our often unsung heroes, as it happens: the woodwork. Its two interventions at crucial moments in both halves were as influential on the outcome of the match as Carlton’s two uncharacteristically inspired moments that resulted in our first two goals.
Who else had a good game? Several newspapers singled out Ashton, and rightly so. I couldn’t fathom why he was wearing bright orange slippers –perhaps he moonlights as a clown at birthday parties (His head is pretty funny too) – but he looked much sharper and more confident. He was unlucky to have slightly mistimed the run for the offside goal, which he took with aplomb, and gave Middlesbrough’s defenders a torrid afternoon.
His goal may have been from only three yards out but he knew exactly where he had to be to reach an excellent cross from Mattie and he will be mighty relieved to get off the mark. His season starts here. For Dean Ashton the future looks bright and for his plates the future looks orange.
Before he crossed, Mattie had received a clever ball from Mullins who had an excellent game (that is not the curse of the oxymorons – it’s true, Mullins was excellent) and if Scott Parker does exist he may not find it that easy to displace him in midfield.
I’ve been weighing up the evidence of whether Scott Parker exists and really am not sure. The evidence in favour of his existence is that he doesn’t seem to be playing for Newcastle any more and there were pictures on the West Ham website over the summer with him, or someone looking very much like him, wearing a West Ham shirt. I might have dreamt it, though. I may be 49 but I still dream about West Ham occasionally. It’s easy to feed bullshit to the press and they were happy to print “and Scott Parker faces a late fitness test” week after week without any proof that he existed at all.
The case against his existence is, well, basically, we never see the ****.
Clubs love to play their transfer recruits against their old teams so you might have thought that Scotty would show up at St James Park – but unless he’s Henri Camara in disguise I don’t think he was there. No I don’t think he exists (though there was a sighting claimed at St James Infirmary).
Anyway, midfield, where he would play if he did exist, is not so much the problem these days. It’s the “defence”. Apart from Green who had another excellent game against Middlesborough. you could hardly praise the defence for another clean sheet. We won 3-0 but so easily could have lost 5-3. The defence were all at sea several times as Middlesborough players ghosted past them. Thankfully they fluffed their chances. Although at the end of the day, Middlesborough deserved to lose for, if nothing more, wearing the worst away strip I’ve ever seen. It was a fairly non-descript puke colour. I’ve heard that the north east is a depressed place but this behaviour was completely unnecessary.
I’m sure many of us left the ground knowing that defending like that would be seized upon by teams with a bit more nous up front and a less pukeworthy strip. Newcastle have hammered home the point. Let’s hope we plug the gaps before Arsenal’s teenyboppers visit next Saturday.
Despite the odd moan, though, I’m fairly happy – we’ve only drawn one out of six – and as I wrote a few weeks ago I’d rather we played attacking football, lost a few and won a few, rather than sitting back in a dull stalemate and drawing. After half a dozen games we’re 7th in the league, a point below Chelsea with a game in hand and 5 points and 11 places above Spurs. That’s 5 points and 11 places above Spurs – lovely!
So tonight – a little distraction from the league and a chance to rest one or two players but still put out a strong enough team to handle the Plymouth Brethren. And maybe a chance to put a youth team player on the bench and give them a few minutes to strut their stuff.
I read that the Plymouth Brethren go round boasting that Jesus saves – let’s hope he’s not between the sticks tonight. On Saturday they had someone called Luke between the sticks. Now I may be a bit of an outsider on this one, as a nice Jewish boy, but I reckon a disciple can’t save the way the J-man can. So whether God or even whether Scott Parker exists or not, I have personal faith that our pinball wizard Cole will net a goal, we’ll be in the hat for the next round, and hopefully land another home draw. Come On You Irons!!!
Do you ever feel you are living in a parallel universe? That you’ve seen something happen with your own eyes but anther person who was there at the same time saw it completely differently. That’s how I felt the morning after the Middlesborough game as I flicked through the Observer Sport pages. When I found the West Ham report it was there in black and white: “Man of the Match Carlton Cole”. I believe it’s what they call an oxymoron – a self contradictory statement – like “military intelligence” or “loose tights”.
Now you can’t fault Carlton’s desire or effort, but for most of his time on the pitch after he replaced Bellend, his first touch was so bad it brought back long-suppressed memories of Paulo Wanchope. To be fair though it also brought back happier memories of playing pinball and not knowing in which direction the ball would bounce as you flicked it away from the danger zone. Instead of Carlton Cole controlling the ball, the ball seems to control him. Though when you really sit down and think about it, playing pinball is much more fun than watching Carlton Cole.
There was a wonderful moment, however, late in the game, when everyone except me was shouting something much less complimentary than “man of the match” at him. He had just fluffed a chance my grandmother would have netted, which would have put the Hammers 4-0 up. He was just 8 yards out. But I was secretly smiling, as I had assured my friend’s son before the game it would end 3-0, and I wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that prediction, least of all a lummox who can’t score from 8 yards!
So who was my man of the match? One of our often unsung heroes, as it happens: the woodwork. Its two interventions at crucial moments in both halves were as influential on the outcome of the match as Carlton’s two uncharacteristically inspired moments that resulted in our first two goals.
Who else had a good game? Several newspapers singled out Ashton, and rightly so. I couldn’t fathom why he was wearing bright orange slippers –perhaps he moonlights as a clown at birthday parties (His head is pretty funny too) – but he looked much sharper and more confident. He was unlucky to have slightly mistimed the run for the offside goal, which he took with aplomb, and gave Middlesbrough’s defenders a torrid afternoon.
His goal may have been from only three yards out but he knew exactly where he had to be to reach an excellent cross from Mattie and he will be mighty relieved to get off the mark. His season starts here. For Dean Ashton the future looks bright and for his plates the future looks orange.
Before he crossed, Mattie had received a clever ball from Mullins who had an excellent game (that is not the curse of the oxymorons – it’s true, Mullins was excellent) and if Scott Parker does exist he may not find it that easy to displace him in midfield.
I’ve been weighing up the evidence of whether Scott Parker exists and really am not sure. The evidence in favour of his existence is that he doesn’t seem to be playing for Newcastle any more and there were pictures on the West Ham website over the summer with him, or someone looking very much like him, wearing a West Ham shirt. I might have dreamt it, though. I may be 49 but I still dream about West Ham occasionally. It’s easy to feed bullshit to the press and they were happy to print “and Scott Parker faces a late fitness test” week after week without any proof that he existed at all.
The case against his existence is, well, basically, we never see the ****.
Clubs love to play their transfer recruits against their old teams so you might have thought that Scotty would show up at St James Park – but unless he’s Henri Camara in disguise I don’t think he was there. No I don’t think he exists (though there was a sighting claimed at St James Infirmary).
Anyway, midfield, where he would play if he did exist, is not so much the problem these days. It’s the “defence”. Apart from Green who had another excellent game against Middlesborough. you could hardly praise the defence for another clean sheet. We won 3-0 but so easily could have lost 5-3. The defence were all at sea several times as Middlesborough players ghosted past them. Thankfully they fluffed their chances. Although at the end of the day, Middlesborough deserved to lose for, if nothing more, wearing the worst away strip I’ve ever seen. It was a fairly non-descript puke colour. I’ve heard that the north east is a depressed place but this behaviour was completely unnecessary.
I’m sure many of us left the ground knowing that defending like that would be seized upon by teams with a bit more nous up front and a less pukeworthy strip. Newcastle have hammered home the point. Let’s hope we plug the gaps before Arsenal’s teenyboppers visit next Saturday.
Despite the odd moan, though, I’m fairly happy – we’ve only drawn one out of six – and as I wrote a few weeks ago I’d rather we played attacking football, lost a few and won a few, rather than sitting back in a dull stalemate and drawing. After half a dozen games we’re 7th in the league, a point below Chelsea with a game in hand and 5 points and 11 places above Spurs. That’s 5 points and 11 places above Spurs – lovely!
So tonight – a little distraction from the league and a chance to rest one or two players but still put out a strong enough team to handle the Plymouth Brethren. And maybe a chance to put a youth team player on the bench and give them a few minutes to strut their stuff.
I read that the Plymouth Brethren go round boasting that Jesus saves – let’s hope he’s not between the sticks tonight. On Saturday they had someone called Luke between the sticks. Now I may be a bit of an outsider on this one, as a nice Jewish boy, but I reckon a disciple can’t save the way the J-man can. So whether God or even whether Scott Parker exists or not, I have personal faith that our pinball wizard Cole will net a goal, we’ll be in the hat for the next round, and hopefully land another home draw. Come On You Irons!!!
Saturday Night Fever
OLAS 420 SEPTEMBER 15TH 2007
Saturday night is not complete without Match of the Day, an Indian take-away and Casualty. What a disappointment when Casualty went off screen for its annual break. Never mind, a new series of that old favourite, Casualty at West Ham, was just starting.
The title of the first episode, Faubert’s Folly, was a bit pretentious but it soon became obvious what it was about. Faubert is a down-at-heel Frenchman who finds himself literally, er, down at heel. That registrar, “Curbs", the one with the vacant expression, is a bit of a misery guts. He seems to thinks that each case he comes across every week can be put down to “bad luck”. And Nurse Mervyn seems totally clueless. Can she speak?
They seemed a bit more animated in the next episode: Knees up Scotty Parker, which had elements of slapstick as, first, Lucas Neil, and then Scotty Parker, and then Freddy Male-Model all do their knees in. One straight after the other – oh, how we laughed.
Then, in walks Magnus Eggontoast, Chair of the Trust, with his ultra-trendy shaved head. He doesn’t quite get what an NHS casualty department is all about. Did you see how he looks at Ljungberg laid out on the bed after over-exerting himself playing one game and counting his wages? Magnus examines him, as if he’s a doctor, and comes up with his solution: “We need different patient. Here’s 10 mill. We buy one.”
In lots of these soaps some of the real characters have the more menial roles, like those porters – Muggins and Bowyer – neither of them very competent or intelligent but always willing to do errands and run around, even in circles.
Casualty at West Ham is growing on me and you wonder who’s going to cop it next. Occasionally the plot line is a little too obvious, like at the beginning of the Keiron Dyer episode when he leaves Newcastle for the East End and says he could really do with a lucky break or two in his career. Well, the scriptwriting was pretty poor because we all knew what was going to happen next. And it did.
But if that’s the soap opera, then the tragic-comedy must be Transfer Deadline. Funnily enough Magnus Eggontoast plays a role in that one too. He is not the Chair of the Trust in this one but a kind of Mystic Meg figure with a shiny head, though less sparkling balls.
In this programme he stands on a mountain making pronouncements, each more ridiculous and unbelievable than the previous one, like: “We are going to attract world-class players to West Ham.” And before you say “pull the other one,” there’s something about how he says it that sucks you in.
Then they flash to these balding pear-shaped geezers, who you just see from behind, filling ash-trays and collecting lager empties as they sit frantically in front of their computers on the night of the deadline. The minutes tick by, as they click every West Ham or sports website they can find, desperately hoping to see which world-class players, which great new prospects, we have signed. Every so often you hear a grunt or a burp interspersed with names: Mancini…Shorey…Adriano…Barnes…
The belly laugh is at the end – there never were any world-class players, there were never going to be, and Magnus stands up on the mountain again saying, “Solano, good evening and welcome. While you sit like lemons in front of computers, we secretly film you. You just been on Candid Camara. Goodnight.” And then he legs it down the mountain and disappears.
And there it was – goodnight to the transfer window until January. Now, quite a few players changed hands over the summer. They seemed to fall into certain categories and, with the exception of Faubert – who had no history of major injuries – we bought ours from the list headed: “Injury-prone, has-beens and cast offs at prices you wouldn’t believe.” I hope we choose them from a different category in January – like the one titled: “young, energetic, creative, determined and proven quality in their position.”
Eggs and Curbs – don’t wait until the last minute but start focusing on your targets now. Clearly some of the better players on the move over the summer were snapped up at reasonable prices by teams of pretty much the same calibre as West Ham like Citeh, Newcastle, Villa and Portsmouth. If those teams are able to repeat that exercise in January and we don’t, then we will fall behind, however well our current squad play. If other teams are strengthening in depth, making more competition for places and giving themselves more options, we need to do so as well.
At the same time, I hope that Eggs’ longstanding promises to put resources into the youth academy are fulfilled. Because whatever our activity in the transfer market I would still like to see us bringing through our youth talent. To start giving them run-outs as substitutes rather than suddenly throwing them into the fray when we are in crisis and half our team are busy rehearsing for Casualty at West Ham.
Mark Noble is doing a great job out there and Anton is showing signs of returning to the form we know he is capable of. But perhaps there are other Nobles and Ferdinands nearly ready to step out on to the premiership stage, if we have that as a goal and we prepare them for that possibility. And, if we maintain our reputation of being a team where youth team players can make it and show that we are putting resources into the youth set up, we will continue to attract a great crop of youth prospects.
Meanwhile there have been one or to things happening out there on the pitch. We started slowly against Wigan but once we got into gear we battered them for 30 minutes playing crisp attacking football. As we got close to half-time though, with nothing to show for it (not helped by the denial of a clear penalty), the nervousness crept in and Wigan started to look dangerous. The second half was appalling. We lost our shape completely and ran out of ideas. I was just coming to terms with the disappointment of a 0-0 draw when Wigan scored out of the blue. We rallied enough to pull one back but didn’t deserve to win. And we didn’t.
The cup-game at Bristol Rovers was a potential banana skin that we disposed of very effectively – though obviously at the cost of Keiron Dyer who, in his brief spell on the pitch since he signed, was developing a healthy understanding with Bellamy. Again, once we settled, we showed some very good touches and deserved our 2-0 half-time lead. We took our foot off the gas a bit in the second half and Anton was done up like a kipper for their goal but we were comfortable winners.
I watched the game with a mate of mine from Bristol (a City supporter) at one of my few locals that regularly shows the footie – the Boston Arms in Tufnell Park. It’s a funny old pub. At this time of year it is very quiet; its mostly Irish clientele head home for the summer leaving a few waifs and strays talking to themselves and occasionally falling off chairs near the bar. About three quarters of the way through the match one of those struggling to prop up the bar turns to me and my mate and says: ‘Now I don’t follow football really but would that be Blackburn Rovers?” Well, a reasonable question – he probably heard the commentator say “Rovers”, and Bristol played in Blackburn-like colours. But then came the surreal clincher: “Only I t’ort I saw Craig Bellamy out dere.” “Yes,” I said, “but he’s wearing a West Ham shirt. And no, that’s Bristol Rovers…”
The events of that night churned up many a Hammers supporter. Hardly anyone wanted Keiron Dyer at the club but we were just starting to believe he could be an asset when he’s out for the season, having been bought to replace Faubert who’s out for six months. There were only three more days till the transfer deadline and our right wing spot was beginning to resemble the Bermuda Triangle.
Saturday morning and I’m like a bear with a sore head – angry at Curbs, angry at Egghead, but mostly angry at myself for believing their lies about transfer targets and about Scott Parker having a fitness test (they told us that one the week before too and I believed it.) I was convinced we were going to lose by at least two goals against a Reading team who are hardly lighting up the league this year, and then we put in a fantastic performance and win 3-0. There must have been good odds on Mattie netting twice but I doubt if even he had that flutter. Time for a new West Ham series. I don’t know, we could call it Surprise, Surprise.
Saturday night is not complete without Match of the Day, an Indian take-away and Casualty. What a disappointment when Casualty went off screen for its annual break. Never mind, a new series of that old favourite, Casualty at West Ham, was just starting.
The title of the first episode, Faubert’s Folly, was a bit pretentious but it soon became obvious what it was about. Faubert is a down-at-heel Frenchman who finds himself literally, er, down at heel. That registrar, “Curbs", the one with the vacant expression, is a bit of a misery guts. He seems to thinks that each case he comes across every week can be put down to “bad luck”. And Nurse Mervyn seems totally clueless. Can she speak?
They seemed a bit more animated in the next episode: Knees up Scotty Parker, which had elements of slapstick as, first, Lucas Neil, and then Scotty Parker, and then Freddy Male-Model all do their knees in. One straight after the other – oh, how we laughed.
Then, in walks Magnus Eggontoast, Chair of the Trust, with his ultra-trendy shaved head. He doesn’t quite get what an NHS casualty department is all about. Did you see how he looks at Ljungberg laid out on the bed after over-exerting himself playing one game and counting his wages? Magnus examines him, as if he’s a doctor, and comes up with his solution: “We need different patient. Here’s 10 mill. We buy one.”
In lots of these soaps some of the real characters have the more menial roles, like those porters – Muggins and Bowyer – neither of them very competent or intelligent but always willing to do errands and run around, even in circles.
Casualty at West Ham is growing on me and you wonder who’s going to cop it next. Occasionally the plot line is a little too obvious, like at the beginning of the Keiron Dyer episode when he leaves Newcastle for the East End and says he could really do with a lucky break or two in his career. Well, the scriptwriting was pretty poor because we all knew what was going to happen next. And it did.
But if that’s the soap opera, then the tragic-comedy must be Transfer Deadline. Funnily enough Magnus Eggontoast plays a role in that one too. He is not the Chair of the Trust in this one but a kind of Mystic Meg figure with a shiny head, though less sparkling balls.
In this programme he stands on a mountain making pronouncements, each more ridiculous and unbelievable than the previous one, like: “We are going to attract world-class players to West Ham.” And before you say “pull the other one,” there’s something about how he says it that sucks you in.
Then they flash to these balding pear-shaped geezers, who you just see from behind, filling ash-trays and collecting lager empties as they sit frantically in front of their computers on the night of the deadline. The minutes tick by, as they click every West Ham or sports website they can find, desperately hoping to see which world-class players, which great new prospects, we have signed. Every so often you hear a grunt or a burp interspersed with names: Mancini…Shorey…Adriano…Barnes…
The belly laugh is at the end – there never were any world-class players, there were never going to be, and Magnus stands up on the mountain again saying, “Solano, good evening and welcome. While you sit like lemons in front of computers, we secretly film you. You just been on Candid Camara. Goodnight.” And then he legs it down the mountain and disappears.
And there it was – goodnight to the transfer window until January. Now, quite a few players changed hands over the summer. They seemed to fall into certain categories and, with the exception of Faubert – who had no history of major injuries – we bought ours from the list headed: “Injury-prone, has-beens and cast offs at prices you wouldn’t believe.” I hope we choose them from a different category in January – like the one titled: “young, energetic, creative, determined and proven quality in their position.”
Eggs and Curbs – don’t wait until the last minute but start focusing on your targets now. Clearly some of the better players on the move over the summer were snapped up at reasonable prices by teams of pretty much the same calibre as West Ham like Citeh, Newcastle, Villa and Portsmouth. If those teams are able to repeat that exercise in January and we don’t, then we will fall behind, however well our current squad play. If other teams are strengthening in depth, making more competition for places and giving themselves more options, we need to do so as well.
At the same time, I hope that Eggs’ longstanding promises to put resources into the youth academy are fulfilled. Because whatever our activity in the transfer market I would still like to see us bringing through our youth talent. To start giving them run-outs as substitutes rather than suddenly throwing them into the fray when we are in crisis and half our team are busy rehearsing for Casualty at West Ham.
Mark Noble is doing a great job out there and Anton is showing signs of returning to the form we know he is capable of. But perhaps there are other Nobles and Ferdinands nearly ready to step out on to the premiership stage, if we have that as a goal and we prepare them for that possibility. And, if we maintain our reputation of being a team where youth team players can make it and show that we are putting resources into the youth set up, we will continue to attract a great crop of youth prospects.
Meanwhile there have been one or to things happening out there on the pitch. We started slowly against Wigan but once we got into gear we battered them for 30 minutes playing crisp attacking football. As we got close to half-time though, with nothing to show for it (not helped by the denial of a clear penalty), the nervousness crept in and Wigan started to look dangerous. The second half was appalling. We lost our shape completely and ran out of ideas. I was just coming to terms with the disappointment of a 0-0 draw when Wigan scored out of the blue. We rallied enough to pull one back but didn’t deserve to win. And we didn’t.
The cup-game at Bristol Rovers was a potential banana skin that we disposed of very effectively – though obviously at the cost of Keiron Dyer who, in his brief spell on the pitch since he signed, was developing a healthy understanding with Bellamy. Again, once we settled, we showed some very good touches and deserved our 2-0 half-time lead. We took our foot off the gas a bit in the second half and Anton was done up like a kipper for their goal but we were comfortable winners.
I watched the game with a mate of mine from Bristol (a City supporter) at one of my few locals that regularly shows the footie – the Boston Arms in Tufnell Park. It’s a funny old pub. At this time of year it is very quiet; its mostly Irish clientele head home for the summer leaving a few waifs and strays talking to themselves and occasionally falling off chairs near the bar. About three quarters of the way through the match one of those struggling to prop up the bar turns to me and my mate and says: ‘Now I don’t follow football really but would that be Blackburn Rovers?” Well, a reasonable question – he probably heard the commentator say “Rovers”, and Bristol played in Blackburn-like colours. But then came the surreal clincher: “Only I t’ort I saw Craig Bellamy out dere.” “Yes,” I said, “but he’s wearing a West Ham shirt. And no, that’s Bristol Rovers…”
The events of that night churned up many a Hammers supporter. Hardly anyone wanted Keiron Dyer at the club but we were just starting to believe he could be an asset when he’s out for the season, having been bought to replace Faubert who’s out for six months. There were only three more days till the transfer deadline and our right wing spot was beginning to resemble the Bermuda Triangle.
Saturday morning and I’m like a bear with a sore head – angry at Curbs, angry at Egghead, but mostly angry at myself for believing their lies about transfer targets and about Scott Parker having a fitness test (they told us that one the week before too and I believed it.) I was convinced we were going to lose by at least two goals against a Reading team who are hardly lighting up the league this year, and then we put in a fantastic performance and win 3-0. There must have been good odds on Mattie netting twice but I doubt if even he had that flutter. Time for a new West Ham series. I don’t know, we could call it Surprise, Surprise.
Eastern End Philosophy
OLAS 419 AUGUST 25TH 2007
The ancient Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu said, “If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.” It’s the kind of advice I could have done with when I took my first driving test and the examiner asked me to do a three-point-turn.
Somehow, with just nine games to go last season, West Ham changed direction and saved themselves. But who was it that changed it? When the whistle blew at Old Trafford last May, Carlos Tevez’s outstanding role in that run-in was rightly celebrated, but he was just one player in a whole team that had transformed itself. How did that urgency, flair, stamina, determination and willingness to play for each other return? For many commentators the answer was the manager. They credited Alan Curbishley with masterminding the transformation.
I had been one of his fiercest critics but with each result in those dramatic weeks I began to wonder if they were right. Throughout his Charlton days, Curbs had always struck me as an irredeemably dull geezer, limited in ambition, imagination and inspiration, who has been on the long-term waiting list at his local hospital for a personality transplant – and he’s still waiting.
Alan Pardew, in comparison had grown on me. Despite a string of poor results, and a completely unforgivable set of appalling ties in his wardrobe, I still saw him as a forward-looking, progressive, modern manager. I was convinced that he had the character and nous to get us out of the doggy-dirt and survive. And emerging stronger from that experience, he would start to build a bright future at Upton Park based around a young team playing pacy and intelligent attacking football.
When Curbs took over, the honeymoon period was remarkably short. A seemingly impossible victory over Man U was all but erased on January 1st with the 6-0 drubbing by newly promoted Reading, and several more defeats that took us to the bottom of the table.
So did that recovery take place because of Curbs, or in spite of him? Were the team playing the “Curbs Way” or had they simply ignored him and played another, more natural way through which they scored some fantastic goals and got the results?
On the evidence of our first game this season I suspect it was in spite of Curbs. A more gutless, spineless, performance by a team totally lacking in energy and ideas, could not have been imagined. Every fan was totally revved up for the new season, full of expectation that things can only get better. The players would have realized that the week before when we cheered Deano’s winner in the friendly against Roma. Yet, against Citeh, before anyone had a point chalked up, and with a whole season of opportunity at their feet, they gave absolutely nothing. They simply surrendered to a team that hardly knew each other.
None of the flair, creativity, quick-thinking football – the “West Ham way” – that they showed towards the end of last season, was present at all. Of course the main creative forces – Yossi and Carlos – are now elsewhere, though we’ve got players like Noble and Zamora, and recent acquisitions like Ljungberg and Bellamy, who can play that way, if they are encouraged to. But who is going to encourage them if not the manager?
Curbs’ bizarre team selection against Citeh had set the tone. Bowyer, who was replaced at half-time should not have been on the pitch at all and needs to be farmed out to a donkey sanctuary as soon as possible. Spector, who has been consistently inept since we bought him, was chosen at right back instead of John Paintsil who had looked really sharp against Roma. And if Deano can’t do 90 minutes yet, then at least start with him, to use his power, drive and determination for the first 45. Keeping him on the bench was a sign of weakness, of playing safe, of lack of confidence. By putting him out there at the start Curbs would have made a bold declaration of intent and would have generated a buzz for the fans every time Deano got the ball. As it was it took us more than 35 minutes to have a feeble attempt on goal.
To return to my Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu also said: “An ant on the move does more than a dozing ox.” In Craig Bellamy we had the ant on the move. Unfortunately he had half a dozen oxen dozing around him and for all his running he could barely get into the game.
“Depressed” hardly captures how most Hammers fans must have felt at the final whistle. Small wonder that within 24 hours West Ham forums were full of “Curbs Out!” posts. Now, however angry we feel, that is a road we don’t want to go down. We need a year of stability where one manager – our current manager, with or without his personality transplant – has the opportunity to show what he can achieve through a whole season with players he has chosen.
But that first game really hurt and I’ve been displaying evidence of serious psychological damage. Saturday night I was really agitated. On the Sunday night I slept soundly but had a dream in which I was out there on the pitch scoring a goal – admittedly it was only a tap-in at the third attempt, but here’s where it gets spooky: I was wearing a Spurs shirt, for god’s sake! Sigmund Freud reckoned that dreams express our unconscious fears or desires. I’ll put that one down to fears. But what was it about that first performance that made me so fearful?
More than anything I fear that Curbs is going to strip us of our natural creative urges and turn us into a bunch of plodders who use stamina and strength to impose ourselves. Now that may make us hard to beat, but it may not help us win many games either and it will surely be a recipe for turning us into a thoroughly boring team to watch. The fans have got to communicate to Curbs that how we play is just as important as the results we achieve. And we need to communicate to the players that that we want them to be creative and inventive, unpredictable, to take risks, to be bold.
Put simply I’d rather we picked up every six points by winning two and losing two than by winning one and drawing three. I would rather win games by 3-2 than 1-0.
Having said that, I’m really pleased at winning 1-0 at the Crossroads Motel and glad that Mark Noble who had a rare mare against Citeh came back strongly against Brum and scored the winner. That result sets us up nicely for what will be a highly charged game against the pie-men. We can’t forget the abject performance on Day One, but we can push it a little further back in our memory. We are on our way. And as Lao Tzu would assure us: “A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step”.
Come on you Irons!!!
The ancient Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu said, “If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.” It’s the kind of advice I could have done with when I took my first driving test and the examiner asked me to do a three-point-turn.
Somehow, with just nine games to go last season, West Ham changed direction and saved themselves. But who was it that changed it? When the whistle blew at Old Trafford last May, Carlos Tevez’s outstanding role in that run-in was rightly celebrated, but he was just one player in a whole team that had transformed itself. How did that urgency, flair, stamina, determination and willingness to play for each other return? For many commentators the answer was the manager. They credited Alan Curbishley with masterminding the transformation.
I had been one of his fiercest critics but with each result in those dramatic weeks I began to wonder if they were right. Throughout his Charlton days, Curbs had always struck me as an irredeemably dull geezer, limited in ambition, imagination and inspiration, who has been on the long-term waiting list at his local hospital for a personality transplant – and he’s still waiting.
Alan Pardew, in comparison had grown on me. Despite a string of poor results, and a completely unforgivable set of appalling ties in his wardrobe, I still saw him as a forward-looking, progressive, modern manager. I was convinced that he had the character and nous to get us out of the doggy-dirt and survive. And emerging stronger from that experience, he would start to build a bright future at Upton Park based around a young team playing pacy and intelligent attacking football.
When Curbs took over, the honeymoon period was remarkably short. A seemingly impossible victory over Man U was all but erased on January 1st with the 6-0 drubbing by newly promoted Reading, and several more defeats that took us to the bottom of the table.
So did that recovery take place because of Curbs, or in spite of him? Were the team playing the “Curbs Way” or had they simply ignored him and played another, more natural way through which they scored some fantastic goals and got the results?
On the evidence of our first game this season I suspect it was in spite of Curbs. A more gutless, spineless, performance by a team totally lacking in energy and ideas, could not have been imagined. Every fan was totally revved up for the new season, full of expectation that things can only get better. The players would have realized that the week before when we cheered Deano’s winner in the friendly against Roma. Yet, against Citeh, before anyone had a point chalked up, and with a whole season of opportunity at their feet, they gave absolutely nothing. They simply surrendered to a team that hardly knew each other.
None of the flair, creativity, quick-thinking football – the “West Ham way” – that they showed towards the end of last season, was present at all. Of course the main creative forces – Yossi and Carlos – are now elsewhere, though we’ve got players like Noble and Zamora, and recent acquisitions like Ljungberg and Bellamy, who can play that way, if they are encouraged to. But who is going to encourage them if not the manager?
Curbs’ bizarre team selection against Citeh had set the tone. Bowyer, who was replaced at half-time should not have been on the pitch at all and needs to be farmed out to a donkey sanctuary as soon as possible. Spector, who has been consistently inept since we bought him, was chosen at right back instead of John Paintsil who had looked really sharp against Roma. And if Deano can’t do 90 minutes yet, then at least start with him, to use his power, drive and determination for the first 45. Keeping him on the bench was a sign of weakness, of playing safe, of lack of confidence. By putting him out there at the start Curbs would have made a bold declaration of intent and would have generated a buzz for the fans every time Deano got the ball. As it was it took us more than 35 minutes to have a feeble attempt on goal.
To return to my Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu also said: “An ant on the move does more than a dozing ox.” In Craig Bellamy we had the ant on the move. Unfortunately he had half a dozen oxen dozing around him and for all his running he could barely get into the game.
“Depressed” hardly captures how most Hammers fans must have felt at the final whistle. Small wonder that within 24 hours West Ham forums were full of “Curbs Out!” posts. Now, however angry we feel, that is a road we don’t want to go down. We need a year of stability where one manager – our current manager, with or without his personality transplant – has the opportunity to show what he can achieve through a whole season with players he has chosen.
But that first game really hurt and I’ve been displaying evidence of serious psychological damage. Saturday night I was really agitated. On the Sunday night I slept soundly but had a dream in which I was out there on the pitch scoring a goal – admittedly it was only a tap-in at the third attempt, but here’s where it gets spooky: I was wearing a Spurs shirt, for god’s sake! Sigmund Freud reckoned that dreams express our unconscious fears or desires. I’ll put that one down to fears. But what was it about that first performance that made me so fearful?
More than anything I fear that Curbs is going to strip us of our natural creative urges and turn us into a bunch of plodders who use stamina and strength to impose ourselves. Now that may make us hard to beat, but it may not help us win many games either and it will surely be a recipe for turning us into a thoroughly boring team to watch. The fans have got to communicate to Curbs that how we play is just as important as the results we achieve. And we need to communicate to the players that that we want them to be creative and inventive, unpredictable, to take risks, to be bold.
Put simply I’d rather we picked up every six points by winning two and losing two than by winning one and drawing three. I would rather win games by 3-2 than 1-0.
Having said that, I’m really pleased at winning 1-0 at the Crossroads Motel and glad that Mark Noble who had a rare mare against Citeh came back strongly against Brum and scored the winner. That result sets us up nicely for what will be a highly charged game against the pie-men. We can’t forget the abject performance on Day One, but we can push it a little further back in our memory. We are on our way. And as Lao Tzu would assure us: “A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step”.
Come on you Irons!!!
Perfect Pitch
OLAS 418 11TH AUGUST 2007
It’s pissing down with rain as we arrive at the WOMAD festival on the last Thursday of July and we’re arguing about where to pitch the tent. I realise that this is symbolic of my hopes, dreams and fears for West Ham this year. If we pitch it quite near the toilets, that will prove we’re one step ahead of the game. We’ll be out there in front while others are catching up. We’re sure of ourselves while others are dithering. On the other hand, if we pitch it too near the toilets then we’ll be down there almost sitting in the stuff – as we were for most of last season.
The decision is made for us by the rain. The patch of weather-beaten grass we identified is already becoming a swamp, but we find a clearer space nearer the toilets, and still feel we’ve got some distance. So we’re quite happy. And to emphasise the point we angle the tent away to the east so that it will pick up the sun in the morning. Perfect pitch!
As the rain continues and WOMAD becomes WOAH! MUD!! people go past us in slow motion and stop to chat. First up is a family with four young kids – the youngest a five-week-old baby. Dad is wearing a West Ham woolly hat. He’s quite optimistic for the new season but pessimistic about lasting the weekend at the festival…
We leave late Sunday afternoon after hearing Steel Pulse for the first time in a live gig since I saw them more than 25 years ago. They’re still going strong. But we’ve ground to a halt. One of my last conversations with a footie fan at WOMAD is with a young Villa supporter talking about Reo-Coker and Harewood. I admit that they’ve probably got a good buy with Reo-Coker. He had burnt his bridges at Upton Park a long time ago but he has real potential, and a change of scene could release that potential. For all our frustrations with him last year, we know how he led us in the Cup Final and throughout that first season back where we belong.
Harewood though is another case and I still can’t fathom how we got nearly 4 million for him. On his day he’s menacing, I assure the Villa guy, but when he goes into a sulk it doesn’t last for a few minutes but a few games. Nevertheless, I’d rather have him on the subs bench to scare the shit out of our opponents than have Carlton Cole as our secret weapon.
So what of the summer comings and goings and what are our real prospects this year? Reo-Coker was bound to leave and we got a good price for him. With Harewood following I expect the third member of the clique – Anton – to follow, if not soon then in January.
When Anton first broke into the team, at a very young age, he struggled, but quickly matured as a footballer. In our Cup Final season he showed every likelihood of being a better long-term prospect than his older brother, but he has declined dramatically since then. His antics off the pitch suggest he’s lacking a lot in strength of character. If Gabbidon and Upson are fully fit, and Collins maintains his form from last season, I can’t see Anton getting too many outings, and he will want to be playing first team football.
Defensively our weakness continues to be at left back. Konchesky could be infuriatingly inconsistent - and looks like Al Murray the pub landlord – but that’s not a crime, and he was a talent that could have been nurtured. Over time we would have had a much-improved player who may even have made a claim again for an England place. I don’t doubt McCartney’s commitment – but he seems a much more limited player, notwithstanding his fine goal against Roma. Whether we can buy a better left back before the window closes remains to be seen.
Midfield is looking stronger though. The prospect of Mark Noble developing alongside experienced and talented players such as Scott Parker and Freddie Ljungberg is mouth watering. As a creative player, who bags goals as well, Freddie is an ideal replacement for Yossi, and when Faubert recovers we’ll have very good options on the right side. Against Roma, Freddie gave his all and showed a combination of tenacity and guile that will greatly benefit the team.
The left side still worries me. Has Mattie has fully recovered psychologically? Against Roma we saw flashes of the old Mattie – speedy and tricky - but just as many flashes of the newer Mattie – slowing up and bottling challenges. Boa Morte needs to convince me that he’s not just here as timeserver collecting over-inflated wages. He contributed very little to the team’s miraculous recovery last season. I’ve no doubt he’s got the talent – he showed it at Arsenal and Fulham – but we need to see it week in, week out.
Up front it’s a whole new set up. Curbs has described having Deano back after a year as like signing a new player. Deano of course has lots to prove. He wants goals and glory and his clinical strike against Roma will be a real confidence booster.
Craig Bellamy also looked hungry. How will he fit in at West Ham? Well, he has shown some familiarity with irons – at least of the golfing variety. I hope we will see the best of what he can offer in terms of strength and power on the pitch – though I worry abut his effect on the dressing room.
The pace and power of Ashton and Bellamy in the second half against Roma certainly took the edge off the absence of Carlos Tevez. We knew it wasn’t going to last, though had he stayed here he could have been a legend. But I wish him good luck and hope that when he next steps out on our pitch, in Manures’ colours, we show our appreciation of what he did for us last year.
I’m not sorry to see the back of Teddy Sheringham – who really is beyond premiership football now – but I’m glad Bobby Z is still here. He is an intelligent footballer, desperate to do well for the club he loves, who lacks confidence. Talent-wise he’s a late developer, but competing for a place against Deano and Bellend, I’m convinced the best is yet to come from him.
And speaking of intelligent footballers, what on earth is Mullins still doing here?
After last year’s debacle I’m not going to be stupid enough to predict where we will end up this year but I will confidently predict that we are going to see a lot of West Ham goals this year.
I learned very early on in my West Ham life that scoring a lot of goals doesn’t necessarily translate into points. Back in ‘66-67 we scored four away at Leicester but let in five, and scored five away at Chelsea, but let in 5 that day too. Still we beat the spuds 4-3 that year and hammered seven (!) past Leeds in the League Cup…(pause to wipe a nostalgic tear… followed by pause to laugh out loud at where Leeds are now!)
All the players we’ve signed since last January, including Matt Upson in defence, are capable of scoring goals. And, with the squad we have now, we can turn being a goal down into a goal up – as we’ve just done against the Italian runners-up and cup holders.
Last year we showed we can leak goals too, at an alarming rate, but if we can find a stronger left back and keep that defence relatively free from sustained injury then we should turn our goals into points and be competing for a good top-half finish – with most of the other teams. It’s going to be very tightly bunched this year. Sunderland and Birmingham stand a chance of staying up, I don’t think Derby will, and at the other end it’s Manure, Chelski and the Scousers. Arsenal are due to drop a peg and mix with the rest of us – so there’s everything to play for.
And that starts today. I promised myself I wouldn’t make any final score predictions this year, but one won’t do any harm, will it? So, 2-0 it is today in a hard fought contest against a Citeh team that, once they get to know each other, might compete in the top half too, for a change.
Final word on the new shirt. OK, so healthy eating is an idea whose time hasn’t come to us yet at Upton Park, and yeah, we’re not all as sleek as supermodels, but to force us to wear shirts with XL emblazoned on our stomachs is taking the piss a bit.
Come on you irons!!!
It’s pissing down with rain as we arrive at the WOMAD festival on the last Thursday of July and we’re arguing about where to pitch the tent. I realise that this is symbolic of my hopes, dreams and fears for West Ham this year. If we pitch it quite near the toilets, that will prove we’re one step ahead of the game. We’ll be out there in front while others are catching up. We’re sure of ourselves while others are dithering. On the other hand, if we pitch it too near the toilets then we’ll be down there almost sitting in the stuff – as we were for most of last season.
The decision is made for us by the rain. The patch of weather-beaten grass we identified is already becoming a swamp, but we find a clearer space nearer the toilets, and still feel we’ve got some distance. So we’re quite happy. And to emphasise the point we angle the tent away to the east so that it will pick up the sun in the morning. Perfect pitch!
As the rain continues and WOMAD becomes WOAH! MUD!! people go past us in slow motion and stop to chat. First up is a family with four young kids – the youngest a five-week-old baby. Dad is wearing a West Ham woolly hat. He’s quite optimistic for the new season but pessimistic about lasting the weekend at the festival…
We leave late Sunday afternoon after hearing Steel Pulse for the first time in a live gig since I saw them more than 25 years ago. They’re still going strong. But we’ve ground to a halt. One of my last conversations with a footie fan at WOMAD is with a young Villa supporter talking about Reo-Coker and Harewood. I admit that they’ve probably got a good buy with Reo-Coker. He had burnt his bridges at Upton Park a long time ago but he has real potential, and a change of scene could release that potential. For all our frustrations with him last year, we know how he led us in the Cup Final and throughout that first season back where we belong.
Harewood though is another case and I still can’t fathom how we got nearly 4 million for him. On his day he’s menacing, I assure the Villa guy, but when he goes into a sulk it doesn’t last for a few minutes but a few games. Nevertheless, I’d rather have him on the subs bench to scare the shit out of our opponents than have Carlton Cole as our secret weapon.
So what of the summer comings and goings and what are our real prospects this year? Reo-Coker was bound to leave and we got a good price for him. With Harewood following I expect the third member of the clique – Anton – to follow, if not soon then in January.
When Anton first broke into the team, at a very young age, he struggled, but quickly matured as a footballer. In our Cup Final season he showed every likelihood of being a better long-term prospect than his older brother, but he has declined dramatically since then. His antics off the pitch suggest he’s lacking a lot in strength of character. If Gabbidon and Upson are fully fit, and Collins maintains his form from last season, I can’t see Anton getting too many outings, and he will want to be playing first team football.
Defensively our weakness continues to be at left back. Konchesky could be infuriatingly inconsistent - and looks like Al Murray the pub landlord – but that’s not a crime, and he was a talent that could have been nurtured. Over time we would have had a much-improved player who may even have made a claim again for an England place. I don’t doubt McCartney’s commitment – but he seems a much more limited player, notwithstanding his fine goal against Roma. Whether we can buy a better left back before the window closes remains to be seen.
Midfield is looking stronger though. The prospect of Mark Noble developing alongside experienced and talented players such as Scott Parker and Freddie Ljungberg is mouth watering. As a creative player, who bags goals as well, Freddie is an ideal replacement for Yossi, and when Faubert recovers we’ll have very good options on the right side. Against Roma, Freddie gave his all and showed a combination of tenacity and guile that will greatly benefit the team.
The left side still worries me. Has Mattie has fully recovered psychologically? Against Roma we saw flashes of the old Mattie – speedy and tricky - but just as many flashes of the newer Mattie – slowing up and bottling challenges. Boa Morte needs to convince me that he’s not just here as timeserver collecting over-inflated wages. He contributed very little to the team’s miraculous recovery last season. I’ve no doubt he’s got the talent – he showed it at Arsenal and Fulham – but we need to see it week in, week out.
Up front it’s a whole new set up. Curbs has described having Deano back after a year as like signing a new player. Deano of course has lots to prove. He wants goals and glory and his clinical strike against Roma will be a real confidence booster.
Craig Bellamy also looked hungry. How will he fit in at West Ham? Well, he has shown some familiarity with irons – at least of the golfing variety. I hope we will see the best of what he can offer in terms of strength and power on the pitch – though I worry abut his effect on the dressing room.
The pace and power of Ashton and Bellamy in the second half against Roma certainly took the edge off the absence of Carlos Tevez. We knew it wasn’t going to last, though had he stayed here he could have been a legend. But I wish him good luck and hope that when he next steps out on our pitch, in Manures’ colours, we show our appreciation of what he did for us last year.
I’m not sorry to see the back of Teddy Sheringham – who really is beyond premiership football now – but I’m glad Bobby Z is still here. He is an intelligent footballer, desperate to do well for the club he loves, who lacks confidence. Talent-wise he’s a late developer, but competing for a place against Deano and Bellend, I’m convinced the best is yet to come from him.
And speaking of intelligent footballers, what on earth is Mullins still doing here?
After last year’s debacle I’m not going to be stupid enough to predict where we will end up this year but I will confidently predict that we are going to see a lot of West Ham goals this year.
I learned very early on in my West Ham life that scoring a lot of goals doesn’t necessarily translate into points. Back in ‘66-67 we scored four away at Leicester but let in five, and scored five away at Chelsea, but let in 5 that day too. Still we beat the spuds 4-3 that year and hammered seven (!) past Leeds in the League Cup…(pause to wipe a nostalgic tear… followed by pause to laugh out loud at where Leeds are now!)
All the players we’ve signed since last January, including Matt Upson in defence, are capable of scoring goals. And, with the squad we have now, we can turn being a goal down into a goal up – as we’ve just done against the Italian runners-up and cup holders.
Last year we showed we can leak goals too, at an alarming rate, but if we can find a stronger left back and keep that defence relatively free from sustained injury then we should turn our goals into points and be competing for a good top-half finish – with most of the other teams. It’s going to be very tightly bunched this year. Sunderland and Birmingham stand a chance of staying up, I don’t think Derby will, and at the other end it’s Manure, Chelski and the Scousers. Arsenal are due to drop a peg and mix with the rest of us – so there’s everything to play for.
And that starts today. I promised myself I wouldn’t make any final score predictions this year, but one won’t do any harm, will it? So, 2-0 it is today in a hard fought contest against a Citeh team that, once they get to know each other, might compete in the top half too, for a change.
Final word on the new shirt. OK, so healthy eating is an idea whose time hasn’t come to us yet at Upton Park, and yeah, we’re not all as sleek as supermodels, but to force us to wear shirts with XL emblazoned on our stomachs is taking the piss a bit.
Come on you irons!!!
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