League Cup Third Round – 26/9/2007

Have you ever seen footage of Palestinian kids throwing rocks at Israeli tanks? Well, City v. Chelsea was a bit like that. Initially scared, we’d pluck up the courage to pass it about a bit and hopefully knock a few balls forward, then go to pieces when Chelsea fired some heavy ammunition. Ultimately, we posed no threat to Israeli boss Avram Grant’s forces.

Following some opera nonce’s rendition of Nessun Dorma (None shall sleep), City made sure nobody was sleeping with a prolonged burst of rather  fireworks that heralded the entrance of both teams. An over the top display that made us look like Lower League Shite who viewed this game as a cup final /payday  as opposed to an established and upwardly mobile Championship club? Maybe. Refusing to be outdone by lungbusting opera singers and loud bangs, MC Steve Jordan reverted to type and bellowed so hard into the mic that he was inaudible, not for him the ‘less is more’ philosophy. Dilweed.

Through the clearing smoke we could see City line up as; Myhill; Delaney, Brown, Turner, Ricketts; Elliott, Livermore, Ashbee (Capt.), Okocha; Pedersen and McPhee. Chelsea for their part lined up; Cudicini; A Cole, Terry, Ben Haim, Belletti; Sinclair, Sidwell, Essien, Wright-Phillips; Kalou, Pizarro.

City kicked off, playing towards the South Stand, backed by an initially vocal Tiger Nation who enquired of the visiting fans “Where’s your special one?” which raised some ire. Chelsea’s following was a ragtag bunch, credit to those who had travelled from London after Chelsea arranged subsidised train travel, but they too must be slightly embarrassed by meffs with “Scunny Blues” and “York CFC” flags.

Chelsea’s first move of note caused some panic in our box, an intricate series of passes came to an end in our box when Damien Delaney scrambled the ball away for a corner, the first of many. Shaun Wright-Phillips might be in the Guinness Book of Records for most corner kicks taken in a 90 minute period following this game, from his myriad of deliveries Chelsea fashioned a few half hearted chances, the best being when Sidwell had a shot deflected wide by Delaney’s chest/arm, several shots were fired wide after mayhem in the box, but City survived. Jay Jay Okocha even took time to play keepy uppy as we cleared our lines.

He looked the only City player not to have a twitchy sphincter in the first fifteen minutes, we really did look nervy, even routine passing triangles were completed with nervous jitteriness and our movement was laboured and not fluid. As a result, shots on goal were few and far between, the first of note was from Okocha from outside the box but it was deflected away for a corner. The Nigerian delivered it himself but John Terry sent it away to safety with what MLS commentators call a ‘combover header’.

None of our chances were clean attempts at goal, there was always a Chelsea body in the way to end our attacks. Stephen McPhee was put through by Pedersen but by the the time he’d swung a boot at the ball he was crowded out by blueshirts and the move spluttered out. Mind you, that happens with McPhee against run of the mill Championship defenders, let alone those of John Terry’s ability. His time at City should be curtailed, we need better.

Damien Delaney played the ball down the left touchline for Henrik Pedersen who took an amusing looking tumble that the ref fell for, giving us a free kick a yard in from the goal line. Jay Jay put the ball in, and after a melee a shot was fired wide across goal, but Ashley Cole had been illegally  bundled over so it mattered not.

City were growing in confidence, Chelsea weren’t going for it, playing well within their ability, so City looked a little more enterprising, but they left gaps in midfield. Shaun Wright-Phillips always appeared to have no one within ten yards of him whenever he received the ball, and though he can be profligate, he shot over a couple of times, that’s just inviting trouble. Livermore sent a raking crossfield pass towards Pedersen but Ashley Cole was alert and gently headed the ball to Cudicini.

The ground was eerily quiet for a brief period before the North-East corner decided to once more point out the departure of the man who guided Chelsea to two Premiership crowns with a rendition of ‘Bye bye Mourinho’ to Verdi’s ‘Le donna e mobile’. At one point the Chelsea fans sung “Hull KR!, Hull KR!”. How surreal.

With quickness, Chelsea opened us up again, Essien found Wright-Phillips who played in Kalou, his deflected shot fell into a thankful Myhill’s grasp. Scott Sinclair took a fall in the penalty box but the ref was rightly unimpressed and play continued. Sam Ricketts was in fine form marking the 18 year old on the right, he superbly dispossessed Pizzaro in the box and was our best player on the night as he was at Hillsborough, how we could do with a left sided Ricketts. Dawson has stunk so far this year and having Delaney at left back isn’t the answer, he just isn’t mobile enough. We knew this already, Shaun Wright-Phillips emphasised the point this evening.

‘SWP ’ continued his Guinness Book corners record attempt and found Pizzaro at the near post, his bizarre cross legged shot was put behind for another corner by Delaney. Soon after Kalou is set free by Sidwell’s ball but Sam Ricketts catches him and slide tackles the ball to safety. He’s ace. A stern faced Sky cameraman films proceedings perched on precarious scaffolding at the back of the East Stand, his ancient looking camera implies this game is not been shown in HD. A High Definition camera can capture the fading of Phil Brown’s fake tan and reveal the darkness of Avram Grant’s soul.

Stuart Elliott whips in a cross from the left but Terry is superbly positioned  to clear for a corner which Okocha swings in, Cudicini flaps at it but there is no Tiger ready to take advantage and the danger passes. One of City’s few clear cut chances goes begging when Pedersen heads Ricketts deep cross well wide, he feigns indignation that Terry got a touch on it for a corner, but it wasn’t. Okocha tried to beat Cudicini with a free kick from just inside the half and near the touchline, he was off his line a bit but not that much.

Half an hour gone and so far so ace, we’ve weathered the storm fairly well thus far. Stuart Elliott goes up for a crossed ball with Carlo Cudicini at the far post, one he’s entitled to contest, and makes weak contact with the Italian netminder, who reacts as if he’s being raped by an invisible rhino. Okocha finds Elliott on the left and his drilled cross is hacked away with less composure than the Blues defence displayed earlier. City believe now.

Chelsea are a constant menace though and the Brazilian Belletti turns Elliott inside out on the visitor’s right wing but the cross is cleared. Wright-Phillips is sent clear but is thwarted by Bo who comes out to absorb the shot with the kind of decisiveness he’s lacked of late. And then, Chelsea take the lead. Wright-Phillips again has the freedom of the right wing and ignoring the scrum of bodies in the six yard box he directs his low cross to Scott Sinclair, entering the box on the far side, and his well struck shot goes through Rickett’s legs as he lunges, through the crowd and beyond Myhill. 38 minutes gone, 1-0. It’s a fair reward for Chelsea’s pressure, they could have had a few if they’d really gone for it early on, but City had defended fairly stubbornly, until now.

City revert back to nervousness and Chelsea go for the kill. Turner desperately clears as Kalou spins to shoot and SWP, in acres of space, is kindly wasteful. City do have a good chance before the break after Okocha twats Ashley Cole in the face with the ball, then delivers a cross for McPhee who hits it on the turn, alas, the shot dipped over the bar. Belletti hurdled Pedersen’s clumsy challenge and swung the ball in for Sinclair but he muffs the shot and the half is over. 1-0, and pretty much following the script. Plucky City hold out for a bit until class shows.

Some bloke performs like a seal to earbleed volume music to entertain those not having a pee/pie/pint/all three during the break. It’d be better if there really was a seal, that’d be ace.

No personnel changes at the break and Chelsea kick off the second 45, and within minutes the game is over as a contest. Kalou and Pizarro exchanged passes and with our defence in disarray Kalou headed home the Peruvian’s cross. 48 mins, 2-0 Chelsea, and City visibly wilted. Shaun Wright-Phillips took a knock earlier in the move and was replaced by Joe Cole.

Communication between Myhill and the defence broke down and with Bo reluctant to claim the ball as it rolled his way, Brown elected to boot it out of play, and a similar thing occurred with Turner soon after. We’ve gone to pot and on 52 minutes, Chelsea made it three when Cole fed Pizzaro who lateralled  for Sidwell who walloped the ball past Myhill. 3-0, and this can’t end quickly  enough now. Elliott and Delaney were replaced by Dawson and Garcia.

The rest of the half was just a procession, with City rarely getting in a clean shot at goal. Pedersen looked knackered after an alright hour, Okocha too was slowing down, and McPhee, well, he’s McFeeble. Okocha put him through but rather than attack goal, he stopped and passed backwards. At least have a go, or just go.

Garcia, who has looked peripheral at times this season, did alright when he came on, he had a crack at goal but that was headed behind for a corner but a later shot actually forced Cudicini to earn some of Roman’s denarii. Ashley Cole was swapped for Wayne Bridge.

The Tiger Nation was desperate to see City score but after Ashbee headed over it was pretty obvious it wouldn’t happen, and instead focus shifted to not conceding a hatful. Michael Turner showed the England rugby union team how to tackle, grappling in the box with Claudio Pizzaro who went apoplectic with rage when the ref ignored it. John Terry had a header cleared off the line by Livermore.

Chelsea’s ‘support’ were fairly quiet, accusing City fans of only coming to see the Chelsea when they did make some noise. “You only come to see Okocha” was the Tiger Nation’s cheeky reply. Sam Ricketts got forward and fizzed a shot not too far wide, this lad deserves a lot more recognition than he gets y’know. Belletti splattered the now weary Pedersen to concede a free kick on the left, just near the penalty box. Jay Jay smacked a decent effort not far over.

Pedersen made way for young Nicky Featherstone and Essien made way for Makelele for the visitors. Peruvian ponce Pizzaro simultaneously inspired both amusement and indignation when he rolled over at least eight times after Brown checked him. John Terry and Ian Ashbee squared up to each other over this, which is clever work by Ashbee, he knows that to keep a section of the crowd happy to ignore his technical failings, he just has to play the hardman, kick people and adopt a macho posture when they protest. John Terry was branded a wanker by the City support, everyone ignoring the real villain of the piece, Pizzaro, maybe because “Claudio Pizzaro is a wanker” doesn’t scan so well.

There was another goal in Chelsea, and it came some ten minutes before time when Joe Cole danced around our defence and laid the ball off to Kalou who slotted home. 4-0. Dawson hit a long range shot that didn’t trouble Cudicini, and it was all over.

So what did we learn from this game? Well, not much that we didn’t know already…Chelsea have strength in depth, Ricketts is ace, Delaney is no left back, City lack a sense of purpose when they have the ball, Pedersen might be quite good when fully fit, McPhee isn’t the goalscorer we crave and Chelsea aren’t particularly attractive to watch.

Like Israel, Chelsea are the big power in their neighbourhood, but they have few admirers in the wider community. Avram Grant got his first win as the unqualified Chelsea boss, but he has far bigger worries than us rock throwing kids, like near neighbours with nuclear warheads.

As for City, well we played well for the first half an hour and then in small patches throughout, but we had no answer when Chelsea put the hammer down. That’s to be expected, and it’s surely more of concern to the regulars among the crowd that City learn how to impose themselves on game against less stellar opposition such Sheffield Wednesday and Ipswich. Fireworks on the pitch? Only as a metaphor please. (LM)

The Championship – 18/9/2007

In a match that will live long in the memory of those fortunate enough to not only be present but also to hail from East Yorkshire, perhaps the moment that feature most prominently among a collection of satisfying recollections will be the occasion in the first half in which Jay Jay Okocha slipped free of his tormented marker in midfield, squirmed away from his second would-be dispossessor, slipped into the penalty area and required five Wolverhampton players to eventually remove the ball from him after more tricks and turns than the naked eye could register.

He did not score; nor did a team-mate. Wolves survived the moment, barely. Sometimes, just sometimes, moments of magic need not to lead to a goal for them to be worth travelling the country and forking out wads of cash to see. This was one such occasion, when the sight of our slippery magician evading countless challenges was met with thunderous acclaim and yes, actual gasps of wonder from a cynical world-weary bunch.

Jay Jay Okocha is a genius.

And of course, we won the game anyway.

Following the disappointment of Saturday’s draw with Stoke at the Circle, Phil Brown made a single change in personnel and a significant change in formation for the forbidding trip to Molineux, drafting in Okocha for Dean Windass and shuffling his troops into a 4-5-1 formation as we lined up: Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Delaney; Garcia, Marney, Ashbee, Okocha, Hughes; Folan. Accompanying our perma-tanned leader on the sidelines were Aspden, Dawson, Livermore, Windass and Bridges.

Ostensibly a 4-5-1 formation, but with Okocha given licence to flit around in front of the other four it meant City looked fluid and flexible rather than cautious and staid. Quickly it became apparent that this move had wrong-footed Wolves and their manager Mick McCarthy, as the Tigers instantly won the midfield battle – not merely as a consequence of numerical superiority, but on plain footballing ability.

City had the first chance of the evening when Wolves negligently allowed Okocha more than about four inches of space in the midfield, and he sprang forward before releasing a gorgeous pass to Hughes, who’d made a great run from deep to break free and head unattended towards goal. Unfortunately, his shot was the most disappointing aspect of this flashing raid, hit straight at Wayne Hennessey. His parry deflected out to Okocha, but his instant shot on goal was inadvertently headed over by Richard Garcia.

Nonetheless, a thrilling statement of intent, conjured up in an instant by two players who are a cut above the norm at this level. However, despite looking comfortable in midfield the Tigers saw moments of alarm at the back, when a breakaway on our left saw the menacing Kightly send over a terrific cross that was headed powerfully downwards by Keogh – happily, Myhill had worked his angles out well and was able to scramble the ball clear with his legs.

It was quickly becoming an open game, with both sides committing themselves properly to attacking. Wolves threaten next, when Ward’s looping header beat Myhill only for a superhuman bicycle kick from Ian Ashbee underneath his own crossbar to deny a certain goal – fantastic covering from our captain, having (another) of his better evenings.

The home fans were growing restless, the atmosphere inside the ground nothing like on our previous visits, and Ashbee was the next to try to break the deadlock when his shot took an ugly deflection and forced an alert change of direction from Hennessey to keep it out. Keogh than wasted a superb opportunity after being put into space on the City left, but his shot was hasty and unconvincing, and sailed merrily wide of Myhill’s left post.

Back came City, a devilish free-kick on the right from Okocha managing to clear everyone and whizzing wide uncomfortably near to the Wolves keeper’s left hand post.

Wolves were now fractionally in the ascendancy, but any thoughts they may have been entertaining of fully gaining the initiative were rudely interrupted when Okocha’s glorious, bewildering, jaw-dropping run  – described, but not justice to, above – forced half of their outfield to desperately intervene when one of the greatest goals in City history seemed possible.

Once again, Jay Jay Okocha is a genius.

The game entered a quiet spell as the half-time interval approached, and City’s flow was impeded when the willing Folan was unable to run off a foot injury and was withdrawn in favour of Dean Windass, whose only contribution before the break was to earn a stupid caution for gobbing off incessantly at the referee. The opening forty-five drew to a close with warm applause from the Tiger Nation, and a smattering of boos from the exasperated and impatient home fans.

One imagines that after this torpid display, Mick McCarthy will have had some uncompromising words for his charges. The consensus of many was that City would need weather a ten-minute flurry of activity to be certain of taking anything back north.

Within four minutes, we led.

Garcia was fed into space on the right, drove into the Wolverhampton penalty area and cut back inside, and was the grateful recipient of a witless lunge by Neil Collins, chopping away his legs. From this observer’s standpoint in Molineux’s dire away section, it looked an extremely generous decision, Garcia not offering the most robust resistance to the challenge. Subsequent viewings suggest that the lack of complaints from the home players do Garcia and referee Jones a disservice, and that the fury of the home fans was ill-directed.

Up stepped Windass, leftward went Hennessey, rightwards of him went Deano’s assured kick and the City fans jubilantly celebrated an unexpected but deserved lead.

McCarthy’s hasty reaction was a double substitution, Jay Bothroyd and Michael Gray replacing the poor Darren Ward and the unlucky Andy Keogh – it was something of a relief to see him withdrawn.

The pattern of play was all City though, and Wolves looked frantic. With an hour gone, a free-kick was won thirty yards from goal, which Okocha greedily eyed. His shot was powerful but seemingly bound for the upper section of the home end, before violently dipping and going just over the crossbar of the bemused Hennessey.

Did I mention that Jay Jay Okocha is a genius?

Dean Windass then limped off after an eventful twenty-five minute cameo that saw him collect a caution, a goal and a new injury of indeterminate severity – he was replaced by Michael Bridges as City sought to reintroduce the element of pace up front that had withered with exit of Folan.

Wolverhampton were slowly edging into the game though, more by luck than judgement. Their play was lazy and unthinking, with far too many long balls being ruthlessly dealt with by the TurnerBrown duo. They came close a couple of times however, a rasping Bothroyd drive forcing a superb flying save by Myhill, and the otherwise dire Freddy Eastwood sent a thumping shot against our netminder’s left post from distance – a brilliant effort that looked in from our side-on vantage point.

For the first time, City were rocking a bit and the home crowd finally found its voice, with Bothroyd having a great chance to equalise when he was put into space, but he lashed foolishly at the ball and it sailed gratifyingly over.

City were beginning to find increasing joy in the break however, with Bridges prepared to drop just into his own half to foil any attempts at playing him offside, and with Okocha’s immaculate control and sinuous way of defying would-be assailants, the Tigers were able to draw the sting out of the game with a few darts upfield and some thoughtful ball retention. Marney and Ashbee increasingly dropped back to provide cover for the back four, though with them in such determined mood this was more insurance then necessity.

The game moved on slowly, with the Tigers bristling with resolve and Wolves evidently accepting that they had been bested. A few anxious moments are caused by Delaney’s lack of instinct for left-back positioning gifting more space than looked comfortable, but all crosses from this area were dealt with capably with.

And then, the glittering presence of Okocha is ours to luxuriate in no longer, as Phil Brown opted for the sensible precaution of Livermore to shore up the midfield. He went off to a standing ovation that bordered on idolatry from the City fans, and such was his sparkling impact upon the game he was even afforded a very generous hand from the Wolverhampton supporters.

Apparently, they too recognise that Jay Jay Okocha is a genius.

Four minutes of injury time are announced, and though they raise momentary concern, this is a position we will not yield, and shortly after the referee ends the game to huge roars of delight from the gathered City fans.

We’re twelfth now. Heady heights compared to our Championship endeavours to date. For the first time since our return to the second tier, there is the sense that we may be beginning to put something together. Wolves are no mugs, a side filled with skill and experience, managed by a man whose achievements at this level are very impressive. One imagines that despite their indifferent start to the season, they will end it with more teams below them than above.

And we spent large periods of this game as their superiors. This wasn’t a streaky win. Of course, had the referee not spotted the foul on Garcia, or had Eastwood’s shot flown three inches to the left, or had Bothroyd been able to shoot with a modicum of competency, we might have been wondering how we didn’t take something from the match instead of celebrating the three points we did take. All ifs and buts – any away win requires such moments to be survived and good fortune to be capitalised upon.

All of those things we did. A resolute, coherent, purposeful side is beginning to emerge, at long last. A desperate fight against relegation is surely not for us this season. With a back four that looks tough to breach, a midfield increasingly sure of itself, forwards of genuine ability – let us not get carried away, but let us acknowledge that we are edging towards a side comfortable at this level, one of sufficient talent that it is worth paying to watch. And of course, there is the exhilarating, otherworldly Jay Jay Okocha – he’s ours, and he’s a genius. (AD)

The Championship – 15/9/2007

Games against Stoke rarely make it into the ‘mouth-watering’ category. A nasty, non-descript team with ugly, unpleasant fans, matches against The Potters are rarely memorable. However, 19,642 crammed themselves into the KC in slavish anticipation, to see Jay-Jay Okocha make his first-team bow, to discover if Caleb Folan could live up to the rich promise shown on debut in Blackpool until that sickening head injury forced his premature withdrawal, to antagonise the insufferably arrogant Tony Pulis (a man who has received so many virtual kicks in the cock that he must have a cyber-inny by now), to marvel at the medical wonder that is Richard Cresswell’s knee, and, of course, to heap abuse on villain turned hero turned villain Jon Parkin.

While many of those making their first visit to the season to the KC will have been doing so in the hope of being mesmerised by the footwork of Okacha, the majority of the seasoned 15,000 or so that had also attended the Plymouth and Norwich games will have been anticipating the opportunity to berate Parkin with equal relish. And with good reason. While many of the culprits of last season’s struggle can be excused to a degree by their inabilities or being out of their depth, Parkin is the one whose attitude stank, from his lack of fitness to his lack of passion to his unsettling presence in the changing room. He can blame Phil Brown for his departure from the KC all he wants, but Brown wasn’t even at the club when Parkin turned up for pre-season training several stone overweight, and a lack of effort on the pitch is something that cannot be excused, regardless of the circumstances.

Speaking of Phil Brown, our manager had erred badly in sticking with two full-backs that are just about of League One standard for the Blackpool game. Thankfully, common sense prevailed and Sam Ricketts was restored to right-back, with Damien Delaney resuming left-back duties. Always play your best team, Phil. Always. Whoever said ‘never change a winning team’ had never won a game with Andy Dawson at right-back. Those that had come to see Jay-Jay’s step-overs and nutmegs would have to wait, as City lined up:

Myhill
Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Delaney
Garcia, Ashbee, Marney, Hughes
Folan, Windass
Subs: Aspden, Dawson, Livermore, Okocha, Bridges.

Stoke’s substitutes attracted many City fans’ attention too, as Pulis opted to partner the usually dangerous Ricardo Fuller with Manamy Sidibe, meaning that the Potters’ subs’ bench was straining under the considerable weight of Parkin’s fat arse.

Stoke kicked off and immediately both teams seemed to be content with a more direct approach. Turner and Brown were having real trouble with Fuller and Sidibe, taking a good 20 minutes before either won anything in the air, and looking unconvincing when the ball was at the feet of Stoke’s impressive forwards. However, the first real chance of the game fell to Garcia in the fourth minute, after some excellent work from Hughes saw the winger beat his full-back with ease and force a good save from Simonsen. Ashbee snatched a shot over the bar from the resultant corner.

Stoke continued to use the long ball effectively but the home defence managed to keep the damage caused by Sidibe’s many flick-ons minimal. Indeed, City had the next good chance. On 13, Ash surged forward and chips a delightful ball towards Windass on the edge of the box, only for alert goalkeeping from Simonsen to snuff out the trouble. Stoke immediately counter attack, with Fuller shooting narrowly wide.

On 15, Deano tumbles theatrically just inside the Stoke box, but his appeals were rightly waved away by referee Webster. Falling to the ground for no reason and screaming at the ref afterwards was to be a feature of Windass’s afternoon, an afternoon where he looked every one of his 39 years of age.

The game was largely formless, with few players showing any sort of desire to get the ball on the ground and demonstrate a little composure. For City, the exception to this was Bryan Hughes, who looked as good as City fans hoped he would when he signed in the summer. Indeed, it is Hughes who, on 25 minutes, manoeuvres his way through the Stoke defence to shoot low to Simonsen’s right. The Stoke keeper can only parry the ball back out towards Windass, but as the City striker looks poised to score, he is crowded out by Stoke’s alert centre-backs.

Hughes aside, Ash is also looking effective, winning a series of challenges and bullying Stoke’s weak-looking midfield. Could it last? Could City’s forlorn skipper at last be showing that he’s got what is needed at this level? A well-worked 1-2 with Marney on 27, which sees Marney shoot well over suggests he might. Alas, this is another false dawn, and a couple of stray passes soon after see Ash’s afternoon reverting to type, as Stoke cotton on to the fact that if they give him as much time on the ball as possible, there is a better than even chance that they will regain possession without having to make a challenge.

On 28, Cresswell, who looked nothing special all afternoon, shot wide on Stoke’s most threatening moment so far. Miraculously, his knee managed to withstand the strain of the shot. Soon after, Hughes and Garcia linked well for the latter to put in a good cross to Folan, who headed tamely at Simonsen. Folan had a decent afternoon, but seemed to lack confidence when in with a chance of shooting.

On 33, Fuller skins Wayne Brown, who had his most uncomfortable 90 minutes in a City shirt so far, and the Stoke forward finds Sidibe in a great position. Under pressure from Myhill, Sidibe shoots wastefully over. Stoke have nothing apart from Fuller and Sidibe, but in such a tight division you get the feeling that if those two stay fit and the rest of the team stays as well organised, they well be a decent bet for the play-offs.

After City had shaded the first half-hour, Stoke were now coming into the game as the half drew to a close. On 38 Sidibe shot narrowly wide, and on 42 Delap headed tamely at Myhill when he should have done better. Alas, he was to do better a minute later when Brown was again skinned by Fuller, who sent in a low cross. Myhill parried the ball, but it eventually fell to Delap who slid the ball home. Poor defending from City, who failed to cope with Fuller’s run, and then struggled to clear their lines.

A minute later and Garcia is fouled near the corner flag, giving City an opportunity to hit straight back. Sadly Marney takes both the free-kick and the following corner, and wastes both. Why is he still allowed anywhere near set-pieces? What will it take for someone at the club to watch any one of his performances, note how he rarely beats his first man, and give dead-ball responsibilities to someone, anyone else?

Half-time comes, and we’re left reflecting on a half in which we’ve dominated on chances, but never looked like a team in the ascendancy. While Hughes, and to a lesser extent Garcia and Folan, have put in good shifts, Fuller and Sidibe have looked the biggest goal threats on the pitch. Okocha had better be good…

No changes are made at half-time, and City start in a lacklustre fashion. Ash sets the tone immediately, lazily lumping a ball over Windass’s head when he had bags of time. With Marney playing way too deep for an attacking midfielder, any early promise that was shown in central midfield is now a distant memory. Marney and Ash are winning little on the ground, failing to support the forwards, and wasting possession on an alarmingly regular basis.

It is more by luck than judgement that City then carve out their best chance of the game so far. Delaney sends a long, aimless hoof vaguely in the direction of Garcia who brings the ball down superbly and races into the Stoke box. He looks certain to score, but shoots well over. Garcia looked much better than he has done of late. He isn’t going to be the thrill-a-minute, pacy winger that we’d hoped we were getting, but his running off the ball and intelligent use of possession caused Stoke a few problems.

On 52, Marney wastes yet another corner, and then is mercifully replaced by Okocha, who receives a standing ovation.

It would be sad if, amid all the plaudits Okocha is going to receive, the contribution Hughes made will go ignored. He may lack the fancy tricks and mesmerising footwork of Okocha, but his all-round game will prove to be just as effective for City this season, should he stay fit. It is Hughes who, on 57, sends in another excellent cross towards Folan, that Stoke scramble away for a corner. Okocha takes the corner, which eventually falls to Ashbee, who forces Simonsen into a decent save.

Two minutes later we get our first glimpse of Jay-Jay, who spends almost a minute playing keep ball on the left of Stoke’s box. While the end result is a Stoke throw-in, the terror in the opposition’s eyes is there for all to see.

Despite Jay-Jay’s introduction, Stoke are coping with our attacks with relative ease, and you get the impression that it’s going to take something special to penetrate their backline. Something special almost happens on 66 when Okocha tries an audacious shot from an impossible angle that flies narrowly wide.

Two minutes later, Brown makes his second substitution, bringing on Bridges (yay) for Bryan Hughes (WHAT!?). Windass is visibly tiring, and Hughes has looked our classiest and most composed player. His withdrawal made little sense. It can only be assumed that he’s still carrying an injury, but judging by Brown’s decision-making on Saturday, I wouldn’t bet on that.

City huff and puff, but don’t look any nearer finding an equaliser. However, on 74 City have what looks like a very, very good shout for a penalty turned down by referee Webster after a Stoke defender handles a deflected Bridges shot. The denial of the claim seems to confirm that we’re going to have what, in the past 18 months, has become a typical KC afternoon. We’re not playing well, our shape has gone as Brown seems to be trying a new formation every two minutes, and we are leaving four players up for corners when a second goal for Stoke would kill the game. Our tactics now seem to be to pass the ball to Okocha and stay rooted to the spot, hoping he’ll do something special.

On 75, Livermore replaces Garcia. Not Ashbee, who is playing horribly by now, but the fairly threatening Garcia. Still, Livermore’s entrance gives us more shape, and his running off the ball and possession retention are as excellent as ever.

On 78 minutes, Jon Parkin makes it on to the pitch. His arse follows in about the 80th. The reception for Parkin isn’t as severe as it might have been, with the tepid performance by the team seemingly taking its toll on the fans, who struggle to muster a couple of chants of ‘you fat bastard’. He deserved worse.

With this, the game seems to be fizzling out. Stoke are reverting to their usual time-wasting tactics, and a Jay-Jay free-kick in a decent position is blasted wastefully at the wall. Bridges is looking lively, and Ricketts’ surges down the right have, worryingly, been one of our most threatening attacking tools in the second half.

Then, in the 86th minute, it is Bridges who releases Ricketts down the right with an ace ball. Ricketts then sends an even acer cross towards Folan in the box. Folan wins an acer still header, which Livermore nods home. The ace-est thing about the entire move was Livermore’s run. It shouldn’t be a surprise, he did it several times last season, and it is something that Marney and Ashbee can only fantasise about doing. Livermore offers a greater goal threat than Marney and does as good a defensive job as Ashbee. He also keeps possession effectively. He is probably our fourth-choice central midfielder now that we’ve signed Okocha. He would be one of the first names on my team sheet. How must he feel sitting on the bench seeing Ashbee send pass after pass into touch or straight to the opposition? Probably that he was back at Millwall or Leeds. Which isn’t a good thing, you understand.

City’s tails are up now, but it’s Stoke who are threatening on the break. It was written in the stars that Parkin would score against us, and he gets a chance on 87 minutes, but hits a tame backpass towards Myhill. Two minutes later, hesitant defending sees Parkin afforded another chance, which this time Myhill does well to hold. Soon after, Folan elects to backheel the ball to no-one in particular when he’s got a decent chance to shoot. Million pound players should at least work the keeper in such situations.

In the two minutes of injury time, which was then extended to four minutes on appeal, Okocha tricks two-thirds of the ground into thinking he’s scored, when in actual fact he’s hit the side netting, and a draw is called by the ref. Overall, a fair result.

For City, Myhill didn’t really get the chance to answer any questions as most of Stoke’s better chances were hit wide. Ricketts had an excellent second half, but Brown and Turner were found out a little against Fuller and Sidebe. The good news is that they will trouble much better centre-backs than City’s pairing. Delaney confirmed that he isn’t a left-back. He defended well enough, but his use of the ball was a source of frustration for much of the afternoon. He and Ashbee stand out like sore thumbs at this level when the ball is at their feet. I’ve already waxed lyrically enough about Hughes; and Garcia and Folan had good enough games, which, of the starters, leaves Windass, Ashbee and Marney. Deano should have been taken off after an hour or so. It was a bad-tempered, ineffective game from Windass. And as for Marney and Ashbee, it is probably too much to hope that our central midfield will be made up of Livermore and Okocha on Tuesday evening. Marney has been given enough chances to show what he can do, and fails way too often. Ash needs to be dropped, even if it is just to remind him that he has to fight for his place. His second-half performance well was short of what is required.

Of the subs, Bridges did well, and Livermore’s impact was obvious. Which leaves a certain Jay-Jay Okocha. I probably had more reservations than most on his signing. I was unsure that his one-man-show brand of football was what we needed. But in a season where we’re not going to go up, and we’re hopefully investing enough to stave off relegation, having a player who causes genuine excitement every time he gets within five yards of the ball will brighten up the next nine months no end. His first touch and dribbling skills are way beyond anything that’s been seen in a City shirt for decades, possibly ever, it is to be hoped that we don’t adopt the ‘give the ball to Jay-Jay, let him do something special’ brand of tactics that seemed to be the case for spells yesterday. Brown’s post-match praise of Okocha was typically overblown, but if nothing else his presence gives opposition defenders a headache and will free up space for the likes of Hughes, Folan and, on this showing, Garcia to do some damage. Now sign a left-back, Phil. And quick.

(Richard Gardham)

The Championship – 29/9/2007

How Phil Brown beamed with pleasure at full-time yesterday, his tanned glee probably visible from space. His team had won, won well, and the scorers were all men he has tempted to Hull in the past few months. Don’t you love it when a plan comes together?

Following the slightly disappointing 0-4 midweek defeat in the League Cup by Chelsea, the City manager made four alterations to the side as the Tigers sought a second home win of the season, with Andy Dawson coming in for the stuttering Damien Delaney at left-back, Deano returning to fitness, Marney coming in for Livermore and Garcia replacing Elliott as we lined up: Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Dawson; Garcia, Ashbee (c), Marney, Pedersen; Okocha, Windass.

A stupidly early kick-off forced upon us by the intransigent wish of Sky Sports to televise a minority sport later in the day made for a tepid atmosphere at the Circle – a reasonable number of Ipswich fans had made the trip north, but they seemed as affected by the lunchtime commencement as their hosts, and the game was not played amid a particularly thunderous backdrop of noise.

This was also because Ipswich had made a very lively start attacking the South Stand, and Roberts should have given them the lead after just five minutes when being fed into space in the City area, but his low shot was smartly repelled by Boaz Myhill’s trailing leg, and City survived.

Indeed, our visitors were comfortably in the ascendancy, Tommy Miller coming close with a shot from distance that walloped Myhill’s right-hand post to bring memories of the horrific 2-5 loss last season briefly surfacing…and then being quickly put to one side as City took the lead after ten minutes. Jay Jay Okocha and Dean Marney combined from a City corner on our left and the Nigerian’s whipped cross found Henrik Pedersen in a huge amount of space that he used to neatly head past the helpless Neil Alexander – shit marking, great cross, superb header, and a remarkable instance of a short corner actually working.

Ipswich came back, looking commendably unruffled by this unmerited setback, and nearly levelled when Pablo Counago’s shot brought a desperate save from Myhill, the ball appearing to have taken an awkward deflection en route to goal.

And again came Ipswich, Garvan’s deflected shot hitting Myhill’s other post and going wide, and the Tigers were hanging on to their lead by a very narrow margin.

Happily, as the half drawing to a close and Ipswich’s threat beginning to abate, City doubled the lead when Deano’s flighted through ball evading Alex Bruce’s inept attempts to intercept it and put Henrik Pedersen clean through. His low hard shot flashed past Alexander at the near post and made it 2-0 to City after 40 minutes, a harsh scoreline on Ipswich.

Ipswich were now looking a broken side, and Pedersen nearly assumed permanent possession of the match ball after Okocha produced some implausible act of skill on the left, but his shot flew wide via a deflection from a static and bewildered man in blue.

From the resulting corner, Ipswich’s bad day got worse, as another short corner routine on the left involving Okocha and Deano saw a curling cross from our fleet-flooted magician glanced on by Wayne Brown at the far post. Your correspondent, from his view in the East Stand, was just about to exclaim “ooooooh” in acknowledgement of a chance gone begging with no-one on hand to finish it, but Brown’s header had not robbed the ball of its vicious spin and it bounced in off the post to give the Tigers a 3-0 lead with the half almost finished.

There was still time for another goal before referee Lee Probert indicated it was time to go battle the beer queues, when a loose ball fell to Ipswich full-back Harding in stoppage time, and he crashed home a fine shot past the possibly unsighted Myhill to make it 3-1 at half-time – a breathless opening forty-five, an extraordinary array of schoolgirl defending by Ipswich, ruthless finishing by City and no little ill luck for the visitors up front.

But if they could count themselves unlucky to be a couple of goals down at the break, the next 45 was a mess entirely of their own making. City came out with the evident intention of closing the game down, and succeeded with considerable ease.

Our greatest failing against Chelsea in midweek was in allowing goals early in the second half to put the game beyond us. Had we kept it tight then, the game would have remained in reach for much longer. This time, the imperative was to gradually take it away from them. Not that this was made difficult – the opening flurry from the visitors we might have expected simply did not materialise.

In fact, one struggles to recall a single instance of them testing Myhill, remarkable given the busy opening to the afternoon he’d seen. City looked by far the likelier to score, with Okocha a constant source of torment for his leaden-footed would-be markers, and his delivery from out wide probably the best we’ve seen in some years.

Garcia had a chance to make it 4-1, but he blazed over from about twelve yards after good work Pedersen, while some outstanding play from Ricketts gave Windass an opening he was unable to capitalise upon.

However, the game was gently expiring, with the tireless and quite excellent Ashbee cheerfully destroying all attempts at midfield creation, while TurnerBrown – it’s growing difficult to think of them as being anything but a single entity of awesomeness – were borrowing from the Justin Whittle doctrine of They Shall Not Pass.

Windass, quiet once more, was replaced by Stephen McPhee with 25 minutes remaining, while shortly after Pedersen was afforded a standing ovation as he made way for Bryan Hughes.

The game plodded on, Ipswich totally incapable of creating anything noteworthy and the Tigers content to observe their inadequate endeavours with a detached amusement. Jay Jay Okocha was withdrawn for David Livermore as Phil Brown opted – probably unnecessarily – to bulk up his midfield, although keeping the wizardry of Okocha as fresh as possible with two more games in the next six days is sensible management. Credit to his team for affording their boss with such luxuries.

Hughes nearly nabbed a fourth for City with ten minutes left after bundling a shot into the side-netting after a deep cross was missed by the wilting Ipswich side, but no further action of note occurred with both sides recognising the inevitability of a home win, and referee Probert brought a satisfying afternoon to an end.

After the frustration of Sheffield Wednesday last season, this was a very heartening return to form. Granted, Ipswich probably ought to have led, and certainly had the chances to give themselves a very solid first half platform, but failed to do so. We took our chances, made the most of generous marking and when called upon to do so, clinically took the match beyond Ipswich with a composed second half display – to my mind, the most encouraging thing of all.

Controlling a game is not an easy thing at this level. It requires discipline, focus and determination, not always attributes one has associated with City since our return to this level. But with Ian Ashbee’s inspirational leadership in midfield – and how welcome it is to be able to report upon that once more – added to a resolute application throughout the side, we were able to make the most of our first half gifts and record very good win.

We now sit 11^th, with more points separating us from the bottom three than the top two, and only a couple outside the play-offs. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. A final placing of 11^th would be a terrific season’s work after the traumas of 2006/7. We probably lack the consistency and class just yet to make a serious assault on the upper reaches of the table, though at least we appear to have enough to make a grim relegation struggle look unlikely. A season of midtable consolidation? Yes please.

Next up, Charlton at the Circle on Tuesday evening. They lie second, eyeing a swift return to the Premier League, and will present a very stern test – and a very useful indication of just realistic our top-half aspirations are. (AD)

The Championship – 3/9/2007

So, our little flurry of results is over, ended on a warm summer evening on the Lancastrian coast. Perhaps, after last season’s home victory over Sheffield Wednesday, we forgot too quickly the destructive effect Sky Sports’ cameras routinely have upon us. However, this is not a defeat to brood over during the upcoming international weekend. City did not play badly, did not deserve to lose, and the season has lost none of its promise.

Phil Brown made the contentious and ultimately incorrect decision to retain the same back four that won against Norwich and Wigan, entailing as it did playing Andy Dawson at right back, an alien position for a profoundly left-footed player. Elsewhere, Caleb Folan made his debut since signing for a million pounds last week, while there were returns for Deano, Marney and Garcia as lined up in a 4-4-2 formation with: Duke; Dawson, Turner, Brown, Delaney; Garcia, Ashbee, Marney, Elliott; Windass, Folan.

The match began in an open fashion, and it was quickly apparent that in Caleb Folan, we have an energetic presence up front. He is swift, makes intelligent darting runs into space on either flank, and he proceeded to give his markers a severe examination.

However, the home side threatened first, with a speculative effort from long range requiring watchful handling by Matt Duke. However, it is good to watch, and both sides are showing enterprise in attack. For Blackpool, the lively Keigan Parker impressed, as did Wes Hoolahan – two impressive attacking players and ones who’ll do damage to the unwary throughout this season.

Despite the appealingly expansive nature of the match, chances were at a premium, although St Stuart nearly connected with a Garcia cross, Fox walloped one at Duke, Marney and smacked an effort over and Hoolahan cracked one goalwards – lots of pretty speculative efforts, but the football was rarely less than entertaining.

Indeed, it was something of a wonder that the half ended goalless, although it did so with Andy Dawson wasting a good free-kick chance – something of a feature of our play last night, frustrating. However, as the referee brought an engaging 45 minutes to a close, the Tiger Nation reflected happily upon a positive display.

Less positive is the assessment of how Blackpool treats away supporters. Upon entering Bloomfield Road, we are herded onto an exposed seated stand very much of the temporary nature – so temporary in fact, that it has stood for three years with not a hint of alteration. The renovation of their then-decrepit home began some years – that they still force visiting fans into such a miserably inadequate facilities is totally unacceptable.

It gets worse, however. For while those with memories long enough to incorporate trips to far-flung Fourth Division hovels can doubtless cope with the away stand, what truly does rankle is the appalling NuFootball (or, as they probably term it, “footy”) tendencies Blackpool fans have adopted with such tacky devotion. They have not only one drummer, but two – doubtless a brace of spotty fifteen year olds who imagine they are heroically creating an Ali Sami Yen-like arena of intimidation, when they are in fact just a pair of annoying little bastards. Drums at football should be declared and their users beaten to a bloody pulp with their own drumsticks.

This hobby horse duly dismounted, and quickly we move onto abortion of a practice – music after a goal. For the second half was no more than two minutes old when Parker hared down the wing, and his centre was met by Gary Taylor-Fletcher to give Blackpool the lead. It is a good goal, and heralded by “glad all over” blaring idiotically over the tannoy. Risible.

And justice is swiftly done as City level three minutes later, and a sparkling team goal it is as Elliott leaps to an improbable height to knock down a long cross-field ball, Folan dummies the ball where the onrushing Ashbee crashes the ball past Rachubka. Terrific stuff, and the 600 City fans present capered delightedly and upon the restoration of order, urged the side on to nab a winner that now looked likely to come from us.

However, the match, poised perfectly for the neutral viewer and brimming with promise, is brutally interrupted by a sickening injury to Caleb Folan. It seemed so innocuous too. Our new signing went up for a high ball, collapsed to the turf, and did not move. No comedy writhing, no suppressed screams of pain, he was totally motionless, clearly unconscious and the alarm among players and immediately-present medical staff was considerable.

Several minutes passed, with texts from home relating television fears of a serious neck injury leaving the medics unwilling to move him, and as both sets of players kicked balls around half-heartedly, the decision was finally taken to stretcher the stricken Folan from the ground in a neck brace to a waiting ambulance, his distress evident to all. A considerate hand was given to him by the Blackpool fans, and a standing ovation he will not have heard was afforded by the Tiger Nation as Bridges replaced him after a stopping exceeding eight minutes.

The sparkle slightly left the game. We subsequently understand that Folan regained consciousness before leaving the pitch, which one trusts his concerned team-mates will have known of, but we look flatter, and not only for his scampering nuisance up front.

However, with the ninety minutes nearly up, we spurned a golden opportunity to win the game when Marney teed up Elliott, but his thumping driving was well parried by Rachubka, who then is alert enough to foil Bridges’ follow-up effort. Great goalkeeping, although we should have taken the chance.

And City wilted after this, as the fourth official announced a quite staggering 11 minutes of injury time were to be played, a figure we may have expected but still quite a surprise to see it. Blackpool too appeared to have determined that a creditable draw was a fair outcome, when suddenly they pinched a winner. Parker evaded Brown to send in a cross, and ex-Tiger Ben Burgess towered above the exposed Andy Dawson to thud home a header.

A few minutes remained, but it is not being uncharitable to observe that our heart wasn’t really in rescuing the situation, although Dawson emboldened his detractors by firing over another well-positioned free-kick chance, and the game was lost.

A bitterly disappointing conclusion to a good game in which we did not play poorly, but were undone by defensive lapses and some indifferent finishing. Happily, we now know that Caleb Folan’s injuries are not serious and he may return to the side this month, while the arrival of Jay Jay Okocha means that while we may now lie 18^th in the table, there is every reason to suppose that our final standing may be somewhat better than that. (AD)