The Championship – Saturday 24th November 2007

We sit smugly, snugly, in ninth position in the Championship. The trauma of last season is forgotten; the desperate grind of the campaign before a distant memory. We now truly look comfortable and prosperous at what has always been considered our natural level, and we are achieving results in games that would probably not have been manageable in the past two seasons.

Scunthorpe v Hull City is cup final day on the South Bank, and contending with this is never easy – never has been for a City side with only one victory at Glanford Park before. Showing the determination to close out a game against eager, yapping but ultimately limited opposition is yet another demonstration of the strides we are making. Ninth in the League. Cripes.

For Scunthorpe’s big day, Phil Brown elected to keep faith with the XI that crushed Preston at the Circle a fortnight before, Stephen McPhee keeping his place on the right despite the arrival of Richard Garcia back from Australia and the return of the fit-again Caleb Folan. It meant that under leaden Lincolnshire skies, the Tigers lined up: Myhill; Ricketts, TurnerBrown, Delaney; McPhee, Ashbee (c), Marney, Hughes; Windass, Campbell.

This meant we had a bench of Duke, Dawson, Garcia, Okocha, Folan: a quite remarkable array of talent unable to force its way into our starting eleven. Nigel Adkins, the amiable Scunthorpe physio-turned-manager, was able to bring back Matt Sparrow in for the banned Jim Goodwin, replaced Paterson with Forte and Williams for Cleveland Taylor.

In blustery conditions on a tired-looking greensward, City began kicking towards the Scunthorpe home end, and the anticipated onslaught from Scunthorpe absolutely failed to materialise as City completely dominated the opening exchanges. A handball was required to halt a Campbell charge, giving the Tigers a free-kick 25 yards from goal right in the centre of the field. Deano strode forward confidently to take it, and forced a good diving save from Joe Murphy as the ball curled towards to the bottom-left of the goal.

The corner was taken by Hughes, badly, but from the rebound City fashioned a shooting chance for Michael Turner. His effort was parried by Murphy but straight to Deano, who cracked the ball goalwards from an acute angle, too powerfully for the keeper, and it squeezed in to give City the lead after just three minutes.

From your humble scribe’s vantage point, it was actually uncertain that the ball had gone in – the glorified bus shelter that houses away support offers poor views even from the top of the stand, and it wasn’t until our hero wheeled away with his arm aloft that we knew for sure.

City could (should?) have doubled this lead a minute later when Campbell squirmed free of his marker and from twenty yards out crashed a volley that brought another smart intervention from Murphy to divert the ball over. Scunthorpe rallied, briefly, and a low shot from Hayes forced an alert save from Myhill. However, the balance of power was definitely with City and we finally doubled our lead after quarter of an hour.

A deep Delaney cross cleared the bewildered Scunthorpe defence and found the lurking McPhee, who instantly transferred the ball back into the centre where an unmarked Dean Windass nipped in before Murphy to head home from two yards. A lethally executed goal, the City fans rejoiced and a rout looked possible.

The home side, evidently aware of the potential for embarrassment, forced themselves onto the front foot and brought saves from Myhill from the elaborately coiffed (and suitably derided) Andy Crosby, and Kelly Youga (wearing gloves like a heem). The latter was puzzlingly spared a caution by the portly official Uriah Rennie for an obvious dive on Scunthorpe’s left flank – the offence punished with a free kick but not a yellow card. We shall return to this.

City’s stunning start had left the game a little flat, with the gulf in class between the sides painfully apparent. The home fans were quiet, as indeed were we. Midday kick-offs are an abomination and Humberside Police may wish to recall that they are a taxpayer-funded public service whose duty to the aforementioned ought to extend to offering them the courtesy of not violating footballing traditions for no good reason.

On with the football, which was becoming more even as City sat back to admire their own handiwork a little too contentedly, although a half-chance presented itself to the excellent Marney after a partially-cleared corner – however, he belted the ball over what passes for the home end.

Turner was cautioned for scything down Forte, and then City should have put the game out of sight when Marney burst forward in the middle of the pitch, knocked the ball wide of the onrushing Murphy, but was unable to catch up with it as it slid out for a goal-kick.

The final minutes of the half saw the first real pressure applied by the home side, and frustratingly this led to a goal as an uncommonly static City backline stood and watched Jonathan Forte race clear. His pace was too much for Wayne Brown and he knocked a shot past Myhill into the corner of the goal.

The home fans celebrated by dancing around to “Tom Hark”. Further comment here would be entirely superfluous.

A minute later Mr Rennie blew for half-time, and both sides trooped off to applause, although tinged with disappointment in the away end that our lead was just a single goal. Instead of enjoying a comfortable stroll to victory, we’d now have to endure the home side attempting to salvage a draw that’d feel like a win for them.

During the break the weather worsened further, with gales whipping around the ground and showers of cold, thin sleet falling from the wintry heavens. This would be almost typical of City to slip up to a crap team in a crap ground on a crap day; and as Scunthorpe piled forward at the start of the second half it was difficult not to feel a sense of foreboding.

However, the home side were creating very little with their territorial advantage and Boaz Myhill’s goal went largely unthreatened. Indeed, the most notable occurrence of this spell came when glove-wearing mincer Youga was booked for a lunging tackle – had Mr Rennie seen fit to issue a more appropriate sanction for his first half cheating, Scunthorpe would have been a man down.

Frustrated by their inability to create anything, Nigel Adkins brought off Williams for Paterson, but moments later City should have wrapped the game up when a Marney corner was flicked onto Deano a yard from goal. Despite there being no-one near him, our aging hero totally missed this open goal, mis-kicking and the ball was swept to safety. As the City fans looked on aghast, he returned our gaze and clearly mouthed “what the fuck…?” He was cheered anyway. It’s Deano, he can do no wrong.

Ashbee was having a solid game as City won the midfield battle, but he was cautioned midway through the half for an ungainly challenge on Cork. The resulting free-kick, taken by Hurst, appeared to be thudding wide, although a deflection off Michael Turner ensured this. Hughes lashed a shot narrowly over after picking up a loose ball twenty yards from goal, but he was unable to cap another decent performance with his first strike for City.

Perhaps with a Tuesday night fixture in mind, Deano was withdrawn for Richard Garcia, sauntering off to the customary adulation. McPhee moved up front as Garcia slotted in on the right-wing.

The match had deteriorated by this stage, with the weather, City’s obstinacy and Scunthorpe’s lack of edge robbing the game of any great incident. The home side brought off Hayes for Tomi Ameobi, but the side looking likelier to score were the Tigers as they repeated fashioned raids on the break, Dean Marney frequently the catalyst for these. However, we failed to capitalise on these, even though it was looking increasingly the case that a further goal would be unnecessary.

Caleb Folan came on for Campbell and ex-Scunt Dawson replaced the tiring McPhee as the game laboured towards its conclusion, and he had the ball in the Scunthorpe goal after being fed through by Marney, although he was several yards offside and it was disallowed.

The home side’s limitations were more evident than ever at this stage, reduced to merely humping long balls that swerved wildly in the howling gale, and were nervelessly thwarted by TurnerBrown. It was all a little too straightforward for the City defence, and although Mr Rennie conjured up a generous five minutes of injury time, we smoothly negotiated them and were able to return to Yorkshire with three points.

This was a professional, accomplished performance. The points were won courtesy of a blistering opening and the subsequently thoughtful protection of them. Two separate disciplines, both expertly carried out, too much for an enthusiastic but imaginative opposition whose winter is likely to be one of struggle as the novelty begins to wear off.

And now we sit ninth in the League; 29^th in the whole country, with a point – a mere point! – separating us from the play-off positions. Two winnable home games now present themselves, followed by a trip to a stricken Preston side, and when we’re playing like this there doesn’t look a side in the division we should fear. We are unquestionably a mid-table team, with realistic medium-term ambitions to become even more. Dare we dare to dream? (AD)

The Championship – Tuesday 6th November 2007

Any serious commitment to following a professional football team across the country is certain to generate wildly fluctuating emotions. Happiness, frustration, despair, contentment, rage – feelings familiar to us all. City are no exception, and indeed it sometimes appears that their quest is to explore them all, in the most extreme fashion possible. For in the space of half a week, we have lurched madly from anger at QPR to a moment of unconstrained joy with that rarest and most precious of things: a last minute winner away from home.

You can go months, years even without experiencing that mad rush of delirium, where the delight is so intense that no quantity of shouting, screaming, flailing of limbs, hugging of strangers and general mad capering can do justice to the sensation of having your decision to travel justified by winning the game at the very end. Those who went to Burnley last night will smile for days at the gleeful memory of the match’s final act.

Following Saturday’s inexplicable collapse, Phil Brown opted to keep his own faith with most of that side, making only two changes – McPhee for Windass and Hughes for Okocha. It meant that at a cool, empty Turf Moor the Tigers lined up in a 4-4-2 formation staffed thus: Myhill; Ricketts, TurnerBrown, Delaney; Garcia, Marney, Ashbee, Hughes; McPhee, Campbell.

City started the game kicking towards the 600 or so citizens of the White Rose county, housed in a gloomy wooden-seated stand whose mature vintage looks starkly out of contrast with two of the new, plasticky stands. Still, the stewards permitted persistent standing and colourful language and the Tiger Nation was in robust spirits given Saturday’s dismal offering, so life wasn’t too bad.

City quickly looked the slicker outfit with our zippy strike partnership buzzing around Burnley’s solid but slow defence to maddening effect. The Tigers nearly opened the scoring with the first of the evening’s many clear opportunities when McPhee expertly played in Bryan Hughes, but jim-jam-sporting clown Gabor Kiraly raced from his line to block the shot.

Still, a heartening opening from a side whose confidence had evidently not taken too much of a knock from QPR – although at the far end, Burnley fashioned a couple of half-chances of their own, Gray and Wade sending long-range shots towards Myhill’s goal, though they generated only fleeting alarm.

Back at our end, City were continuing to look threatening, and Stephen McPhee had the ball in Kiraly’s goal after quarter of an hour when he latched onto a loose ball after a Hughes shot, but the flag was up – a contentious decision to our mind, although the protests were sufficiently timid as to suggest the linesman was correct.

It was good stuff though, lively attacking football played at pace, and City were the next to threaten when a Delaney shot required a smart intervention from the be-trousered comedian in goal. He was called into further action as the half drew to a close, a flying save denying a lovely shot from Garcia. However, despite crafting a few promising positions City went in at the break level, to a generous hand from the away fans.

Burnley would be a top away day with the addition of a few things. Firstly, a home crowd that makes a bit of noise. Granted, a home match on a chilly Tuesday night is never the optimum time, and with a crowd down into four figures, there were plenty of empty expanses for sound to drift over. One also suspects it’s one of those grounds where noise doesn’t easily transfer from one area to another – while the Tiger Nation was in a generally boisterous mood, one wonders how well it transmitted itself. Nonetheless, the quietude is a pity.

However…the pies were tasty, the beer queues were gratifyingly short and the stewards were tolerant of football fans being football fans. And the locals (again) belied their reputation by being friendly and welcoming in the splendidly cheap pre-match hostelry, so we shouldn’t grumble. We were, after all, about to witness a very pleasing forty-five minutes…

They started with Burnley looking a little livelier, presumably after Steve Cotterill sternly instructed his charges of the need to up their previously torpid game. He’d also withdrawn the hopeless Robbie Blake for Mahon. A sharp effort from McCann required an alert stop from Myhill early in the half. However, the pattern of the game remained broadly the same, with Burnley coughing up possession far too easily and City looking more inventive than their off-colour hosts.

A Hughes shot required another smart stop by Kiraly, by some distance the home team’s man of the match. However, Burnley came closest to opening the scoring when McCann ghosted into space and sent a looping header bouncing off the top of Myhill’s crossbar – a heart-stopping moment, and had we nearly trailed in a game we’d deserved to lead.

Our nemesis of old Ade Akinbiyi was introduced for Wade Elliott, but the reason for his benching was clear as he proved nowhere the menace of yesteryear and the imperious Turner comfortably shackled him. With ten minutes remaining and City increasingly dominant, Phil Brown made his first change by bringing off Hughes for Dean Windass – an aggressive move, and one should tip the cap to the manager for being enterprising instead of settling for a draw.

It meant that Garcia moved to the left with McPhee playing on the right with the Deano/Campbell partnership restored, and this duo provided one of the evening’s pivotal moments with five minutes remaining. Deano slipped Campbell into space and he zoomed off towards goal, looking certain to score. David Unsworth also recognised this, and he cynically brought down Campbell as he moved into shooting range.

From our perspective it appeared the referee had given a penalty in addition to Unsworth’s inevitable red card, however his initial arm signal proved misleading and City took a free-kick 18 yards from goal that was kept out.

However, shorn of a calming defensive influence Burnley went totally to pieces, and City tore into them searching for a winner. Stirring stuff, it is a rare treat indeed to see an away side piling forward for a winning goal with the match level.

Phil Brown sought to capitalise on Burnley’s desperation by withdrawing Campbell for Jay Jay Okocha, whose rubber-legged wiles had the home side beseeching Mr Foy to conclude the match. Instead, he indicated four additional minutes were to be played, and the Tiger Nation, scenting blood, urged a final onslaught.

And with the clock showing 91 minutes, we should have led. McPhee danced free of the defence and ran all alone towards Kiraly. He took the ball onto his left foot…shot…breath was held…the ball beat the keeper…a sharp pre-roar intake of air…and the ball rolled agonising wide. Nyaaarrrggghhhhh.

It felt as though the game had gone. Surely a side could not receive two such golden opportunities in injury time?

Pah.

In the ninety-third minute, we surged forward one final time, and won a corner. The initial kick was half-cleared, but only to Dean Marney. No arsing about from our new midfield hero, he sent the ball straight back – and there was Michael Turner, his marker evaded, the ball coming directly to him, and he thumped an unstoppable header past Kiraly.

The City fans went quite simply berserk, the support a single entity writhing, tumbling, screaming with fearsome intensity. The players celebrated with vigour of their own, and the game had barely enough left in it for thirty seconds of final action, entirely devoid of incident and the City players were soon able to salute their once-again-faithful public as they left the pitch to thunderous acclaim. Even Paul Duffen was sufficiently energised as to come over to give us a cheer.

We filed out into the Lancashire night to learn that City had moved back up to 13^th, with nineteen points from our opening fifteen games. More important than the league placing however was the restoration of faith among the support. QPR truly was a horror show. Burnley was the reparation. Even if we headed back to God’s country with a point, the debt to those who traipse across the land would have been repaid.

We really don’t ask for much, just a bit of commitment and as much entertaining football as individual circumstances permit. We got both at Turf Moor, and the temporary rupture in relations is most assuredly healed. And now we prepare to face struggling Preston at the Circle on Saturday. A win will see us into the top half ahead of the international break. An enticing prospect – and a perfectly plausible one. (AD)

The Championship – 3/11/2007

Hate is a strong word. It is also a word that is often misused. People often don’t really hate those they profess to. They just dislike them, often quite strongly. The repugnance of so-called ‘hate’ figures such as Chris Moyles and Jimmy Nesbitt is clear for all to see, but do you really hate them? Really? In the way that you hate terrorists, murderers, or those who bring harm to your nearest and dearest? If the answer is yes then well done. You’ve passed the test. You’ve seen through my subtle ploy and you are fully aware that the likes of Moyles and Nesbitt are as deserving of your hatred as bin Laden and Hussain. You see, I really hate QPR. Really hate them. Should the club ever go bust I would go have a celebratory piss against Loftus Road. I feel no need to justify my hatred. Anyone who has seen any of the games involving Hull City and QPR since our return to the second-tier will understand. I just wanted to establish the fact that my hatred goes beyond dislike or irritation. It’s genuine, full-blown hate.

The last time we faced QPR, Stuart Elliott provided divine retribution for their cheating, thuggishness and general unpleasantness by scoring twice in the last five minutes of a game at the KC, a game that at the time looked as though it would be the catalyst for City’s easing away from relegation and QPR’s journey towards League 1. As it transpired, John Gregory put a run together in April that moved the Rs clear of the bottom three and consigned his team to another season of struggle in the second tier. And what an enjoyable struggle they were experiencing: Gregory sacked, financial difficulties, in the bottom three, and a succession of vacuous celebrities being wheeled out by the new owners Flavio Briatore and Bernie Ecclestone in a vain attempt to distract the viewing public from the shit-tip that Loftus Road undoubtedly is.

As was the case last year, QPR were under the care of a brand new manager for the visit of Hull City. Last season, John Gregory saw his side beat a disinterested City 2-0 as the reality of Phil Parkinson’s limitations as a manager kicked in. This year, Luigi de Canio, the most Italian sounding man in the world, was getting his first close-up view of his time-wasting, shirt-pulling, diving bunch of ‘footballers’ after Mick Harford was harshly cast aside after masterminding the Rs’ recent mini revival.

Phil Brown’s post-game selection headache centred around his midfield. Six into four doesn’t go, and two of Ashbee, Livermore, Okocha, Hughes, Garcia and Marney would have to make do with a place on the bench. A training injury sustained by Hughes whittled that number down to five, meaning that Brown made the wrong choice of dropping Livermore, who had done nothing wrong and plenty right in his previous four games. Selection should be based on what a player does on the pitch. I get the impression that we don’t follow this basic of football management sometimes.

Anyway, we lined up…

Myhill
Ricketts, Brown, Turner, Delaney
Garcia, Ashbee, Marney, Okocha
Windass, Campbell
Subs: Duke, Dawson, Livermore, Featherstone, McPhee.

For QPR, the same XI that had impressively beaten Charlton the week before were retained, save for the luckless Adam Bolder, who was replaced by new signing Buzsaky.

City kicked off, and instantly enjoyed their best spell of the game. Before QPR had a kick, Windass got behind the home defence and only a last-ditch tackle prevented Camp being forced into action. A minute later Turner heads over an Okocha free-kick. Then in the third minute, Delaney wins a free-kick in a dangerous wide position, only for Okocha to fail to beat a one-man wall. More on Okocha later…

After this initial flurry, the game settled into a scrappy mess. Neither side showed any guile going forward, and QPR looked nervous in front of their new manager. Their first attack of note came on 13, when Delaney inexplicably hit the ball for a corner from the halfway line. Ash bravely snuffed out the set-piece only for QPR to hit back and force Myhill to tip a dangerous diagonal ball for a corner.

On 15, Campbell wins a free-kick on the edge of the box, but takes it quickly, allowing Okocha to hit a tame backpass into keeper Camp’s grateful arms.

Despite the impressive Nygaard causing them some aerial problems, the most reassuring thing about City is the presence of Turner and Brown. As the rest of the team decide that they don’t really fancy putting in a full afternoon’s shift, our impressive centre-back pairing is left to repel a number of dangerous-looking crosses from the impressive Ephraim, the industrious Vine, and the classy Buszaky.

In the 25th minute, just after Deano is denied an ambitious appeal for a penalty, Rowlands hits an excellent ball to West Ham loanee Ephraim, who taunts an under-par Sam Ricketts and cuts inside, seemingly into an awaiting pack of Hull City midfielders. Somehow, despite being surrounded by three City players, Ephraim gets a low shot away, which takes a slight deflection and nestles in the bottom corner despite Boaz’s despairing dive. They don’t deserve to score, but we most certainly deserve to be behind. Horrible stuff.

On 30, Deano does well to win the ball and send a curling shot just wide, but the only way we look like scoring is if QPR’s defence makes a howler, and the impressive Cranie is an effective safeguard against this. On 33, QPR start being QPR. Ricketts brushes against Ephraim in the box, causing the winger to roll around on the floor in agony. The only surprise was that it took them 33 minutes to revert to type. Fucking scum.

The half then fizzles out, with QPR seeming content to ensure they go into half-time with a lead, and City lacking the ideas, guile and willing to force an equaliser. Only Turner and Brown have put in decent shifts, while Ash has worked hard. The rest have largely been poor, while Okocha has been rancid. I don’t know whether this was because he was injured or uninterested, but if he and Brown honestly think a display like that is in any way acceptable, then we could well be in for another struggle this season. The only way that I can put into words how bad Okocha was is by saying that he was my least favourite player on the pitch. A pitch that included 11 QPR players. Really, really horrible. He should have been taken off in the first half. Taking him off at half time was a no-brainer. Sadly, we started the second half with the same 11 that ended the first.

It is unsurprising, then, that we are utterly battered for the next ten minutes. As it was looking like a QPR second was inevitable, Jay-Jay does his first positive thing of the game, hitting a great pass for Campbell to run on to. He is cynically scythed down and the QPR player is booked. From a decent Marney free-kick, QPR break down City’s right, but just as it looks like we’ve regrouped, the ball falls to the dangerous Leigertwood. With Jay-Jay marking him, it seems that there’s nowhere for the QPR midfielder to go, but Okocha sadly just stands and watches as Leigertwood skips by him. He then makes a token amble towards Leigertwood before stopping altogether to admire the 25-yard curler that gives Myhill no chance. Disgraceful stuff Okocha. Even an injury can’t excuse such a lack of effort. If you don’t want to put in the odd bit of hard work to justify your wages then please just go now.

Brown springs into action and makes a substitution. McPhee replaces Garcia. Garcia has been poor, but at least he’s not been a liability. How Okocha wasn’t the first to be replaced I’ll never know.

A word on McPhee. He’s not very good. We all kind of know that now. But he does do simple things quite well, and his introduction means we have more movement up front. Within two minutes, he surges down a wing and is cynically pulled back. The QPR miscreant is carded but the free-kick comes to nothing. Two minutes later and Marney surges through their defence, only to again by cynically brought down – a favourite tactic of QPR but one that proves effective. They are thoroghly unpleasant though.

On 67, Marney, who was our best player in the second half (basically because Okocha’s role was reduced to virtual spectator by now and our attacks were being channeled though Dean), burst through their defence again and forces a good save from Camp. A minute later and McPhee breaks down our right only to get into a good crossing position and see only one City shirt in the box. Which is disgraceful from a team chasing a game.

On 71, Featherstone replaces Okocha and we can start playing with 11 men. Hoo-fucking-ray.

We then start to enjoy a bit more territory, and Deano, who had an industrious second half, did superbly to win a corner which saw McPhee go agonisingly close after Delaney had chipped the ball back in after QPR had cleared. This proves to be the last time we seemed like salvaging anything from the game, however. Late bookings for Turner and Delaney, and a goal for McPhee rightfully disallowed for offside, were the only incidents fo note as the home fans found their voice and the home side started their showboating and getting the ball in the corners. The usual time-wasting was present, but in truth it didn’t matter. We were never going to get back in this game.

When the final whistle came, a few City players accepted the smattering of ill-deserved applause and then trooped off to be given a bollocking by Brown. I only hope that Brown is as harsh on himself, as he got the team selection very wrong in the first place, and then refused to do anything about it by taking off Okocha.

Of the team, Myhill stood little chance with either goal and did OK apart from that. Brown and Turner, as I’ve already stated, were as good as ever, Ricketts never really came to terms with Ephraim, and Delaney was hindered by having Okocha in front of him. Garcia was utterly anonymous, you know what I thought of Okocha, Marney was our best player in the second half, and came to life as Okocha fell deeper into his slumber, and Ash was half-decent in the first half, and pretty dreadful in the second. When it comes to on-pitch motivating, Wayne Brown does twice as much as Ash seems to be prepared to do. Windass and Campbell didn’t do a great job of getting the ball to hold up, and were offside on way too many occasions, but can rightly point to the pathetic service they received as an excuse for their poor afternoons.

What was worrying though, was the lack of effort and heart in the team. Only so much blame can be apportioned to Okocha’s utter awfulness, and after a decent first five minutes or so, we never looked interested in the game. This is the second year on the trot now that a poor QPR side have beaten us without getting out of second gear. It will fall on deaf ears, but Phil Brown needs to take more notice of what actually goes on in a match and pay less attention to what happens in training and his beloved Prozone stats. Livermore might not have won us the game, but the slick midfield interplay that we have enjoyed in recent games just didn’t happen. A trip to Burnley is never the nicest of journeys to get a season back on track, but if we’re not to slip into a relegation battle we have to put right the wrongs of a horrible, horrible display, and do it quickly.

(Richard Gardham)