Overly long writings about West Ham United FC. This is the kind of thing you might like, if you like this kind of thing.
Showing posts with label Wigan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wigan. Show all posts

Friday, January 08, 2021

In Retro - The 50 Best West Ham Games of the Premier League Era (20 - 11)

20. Chelsea (a) 3-2 : 2002/03 Premier League
(Defoe (40), Di Canio (49, 84) - Hasselbaink (21 p), Zola (74))

In 2001, popular and populist manager Harry Redknapp was sacked by chairman Terry Brown and eventually replaced by lugubrious coach Glenn Roeder. Despite a drastically low set of expectations, Roeder steered us to a seventh place finish and in truth it looked like there were a lot of building blocks for the future. Youngsters Joe Cole, Michael Carrick and Jermain Defoe were emerging, Glen Johnson was on the way and England internationals Trevor Sinclair and David James were in place to complement the excellent strike pair of Paolo di Canio and Frederic Kanoute.  

The idea that we could get relegated in 2003 with that squad still seems absurd, but we somehow managed it, and an entire generation of outstanding youth players was wasted. However, one of the few bright spots in the season came in September when we travelled to high flying Chelsea, bottom of the league and still searching for our first win. 


Not pictured - Gary Breen, supreme

Things started poorly when Scott Minto conceded a ludicrously soft penalty and Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink scored his customary goal against us. Substitute Defoe snuffled an equaliser just before half time and then shortly after the interval Di Canio scored one of the best goals I've ever seen when he flicked up a loose ball with his right foot and smashed it home from thirty yards with his left. Even now, it perplexes me why that goal doesn't feature in more Premier League "Best of..." compilations. 

Minto carried on his tremendous day at the office by needlessly fouling Gianfranco Zola with a quarter of an hour to go and the Italian punished him with a glorious free kick. Di Canio, however, was not to be denied and with minutes to go he profited from some marvellously Mighty Ducks style Chelsea defending to pilfer a winning goal. This match was also notable for being the only time that Gary Breen would ever play well for us. What. A. Day. 


(Lanzini (3), Noble (29), Sakho (90))

When looking for reasons why Slaven Bilic remains so beloved by West Ham fans despite presiding over some truly abysmal football teams, I think you have to look at games like this. West Ham, incredibly, had not won at Anfield since 1962 before this game, which is the kind of losing record that you typically only see in wrestling where the matches are actually fucking fixed and one party isn't trying. 

But in 2015/16 both ourselves and Liverpool were different animals than we'd seen before or after. We had Dimitri Payet, while Brendan Rodgers was trying to mould a team while Simon Mignolet was in goal for him. Tough gig. 

We started brightly with Manuel Lanzini scoring after just three minutes on his full debut, and Mark Noble adding a second on the half hour after a wonderfully slapdash bit of defending from Dejan Lovren that was part falling over and part performative dance. Philippe Coutinho was then correctly sent off for a stupid lunge on Payet, which referee Kevin Friend decided to even up by sending off Noble for a perfectly fair tackle later on. It seems you still have to knock the big boys out to get a draw in the Premier League.

Diafra Sakho then broke away to score a last minute third and seal a 3-0 win at Anfield, which is the kind of sentence that thousands of West Ham fans thought they would never see in print. 


(Jones (37), Morley (60 p, 73), Marsh (80) - Sheringham (66 p))

Another day, another highly enjoyable visit to White Hart Lane. I think this Easter Monday victory lives long in the memory as it allowed thousands of teenage Hammers like me to strut around the various schools and workplaces of Essex and East London for quite a while, such was the comprehensive nature of our win. 

Things started cagily, with West Ham probably needing a win to be sure of avoiding relegation in our first Premier League season, and Spurs dangerously close to being pulled into the dogfight themselves. Peter Butler was injured early on and replaced by Steve Jones, which proved to be the turning point as he quickly ran on to an Ian Bishop through ball and smashed home his most famous goal for us. 

On the hour mark, Trevor Morley conned Kevin Scott into fouling him in the area and picked himself up to give us a two goal lead from the spot. Feeling the game needed an injection of life, Morley then went up the other end and gave away a penalty of his own to allow Teddy Sheringham to pull one back for the home team.  


I'm pretty sure this is Mike Marsh

However, with Bishop having a masterful game in the middle we never really looked like losing and Morley soon added a second after some more Ardilesian defending from Gary Mabbutt. Mike Marsh, another underrated signing, would add a late fourth as Spurs simply abandoned the notion of defending and we coasted to a thumping victory that left Spurs in 15th place and just three points above the relegation zone. Sadly, they would survive but it was enjoyably close for a while there. 



Back in 2001 the footballing world was a vastly different place. A year earlier Manchester United had withdrawn from the FA Cup in order to play in the FIFA World Club Championship and been pilloried for the decision. Unpopular anyway, this was seen as the ultimate snook cocking and a bridge too far for the English media. In typically modest fashion, United continued to refer to themselves as the holders of the trophy having won it in 1999 and their reputation was further enhanced when it emerged that they had already booked their favourite hotel in Wales for May, in anticipation of making the final again in Cardiff. 

When we were drawn against them in the Fourth Round it was a genuinely huge game, shifted to the Sunday to be covered by ITV and West Ham were given 9,000 tickets for the match. Alex Ferguson picked his strongest side, which was borderline unbeatable at the time, while we sweated over injuries to Shaka Hislop and Frederic Kanoute. The Mali striker was crucial as without him we tended to all but disappear in away games. 


Paolo, relaxing

Still, the omens weren't all that great with our back five containing the octogenarian pairing of Stuart Pearce and Nigel Winterburn, and Hislop patently unable to kick a ball. With United hammering at us early on, it never really felt like we were going to win and indeed most fans were having post traumatic flashbacks to our 7-1 defeat there a year before. 

However, the key to the victory was our brilliant homegrown midfield of Frank Lampard, Joe Cole and Michael Carrick. As Jacob Steinberg observed in The Guardian when he described this as his favourite West Ham game, the great sadness was that this performance heralded an end and not a beginning. The young trio controlled the game and gave us the platform to grow into the game and eventually steal a late winner. 

The goal itself is pretty famous, as Kanoute freed Paolo di Canio who ran into the box, ignored Fabien Barthez trying to tell him he was offside and slotted home the winner. We would be drawn away at Sunderland next, who were actually second in the league at the time, and beat them too before losing a borderline Shakespearean home quarter final to Spurs. 

I actually didn't even bother to apply for a ticket to this game, such was my pessimism, and I got what I deserved as I had to watch on TV with the rest of the world. When we were drawn at Old Trafford again a couple of years later I made sure I didn't miss out. 

We lost 6-0. 

Sometimes God is a little too on the nose, you know. Still, Let's All Do The Barthez.


(Antonio (67))

It's not often that football games live all that long in the memory. They feel important and substantial and then another one arrives five days later and suddenly that's the only game that matters. The value we ascribe to certain fixtures is rarely, if ever matched by their real life impact. It's therefore sometimes the case that you need a bit of history alongside the actual game to make it truly stick in the mind. 

So, what sets this 1-0 victory at White Hart Lane apart from the equivalent Dani game in 1996? Well, for a start this game was played in a totally different stadium. Having "lost" their attempt to win the Olympic Stadium and then benefitting from a weirdly fortuitous set of fires on land where they wanted to build, Spurs then spent $1 billion on building their new, incredible home. It might feature a cheese room, and ludicrous, unnecessary extras but it is undeniably an astonishing place to watch football, and will stand as an eternal monument to the half arsed job that was done on our new place. 

But if the stadia aren't comparable then all that remained was for us to go and make the pitch our own. And with Spurs unbeaten in their new home with no goals conceded, that looked a pretty formidable ask for Manuel Pellegrini's new look West Ham, who had picked up just one point from their previous eight away games and were struggling to cope with their managers indecipherable prognostications about having a "big club mentality". 

However, with Spurs focusing half an eye on their Champions League semi final with Ajax, it's also true that this was a good time to be playing them even if they did play their best available team. The game started in a characteristically frenetic style and Spurs edged a first half in which our influential forward Marko Arnautovic touched the ball just seven times. He would make up for this in the second period however, alongside Mark Noble who simply took the game over and began to pull the strings in the same way as Bishop in 1994. 

Eventually, on 67 minutes, Arnautovic got free on the right, picked out Michail Antonio and the striker smashed home the first opposition goal at the new White Hart Lane, and then celebrated by pretending to hump a donkey on a space hopper. As you do. 

Things got a bit Twilight Zone thereafter when the two best chances in the rest of the game fell to our marauding centre back Issa Diop and an enthusiastic amateur footballer by the name of Vincent Janssen who won a competition to play up front for Spurs for the final twenty minutes. 

Still, we held on and, as with The Emirates, planted an eternal flag as the deserved first winners at the new North London stadium. We were all also introduced to those to two Spurs lads who film themselves watching matches and, well, more from them later. 


(Boa Morte (30), Benayoun (57), Harewood (82))

I don't know if you guys recall this, but there was a stage in the 2006/07 season when it seemed like we might go down. In fact, after a Wes Craven directed last minute defeat to Spurs in March we were bottom of the league, 11 points from safety, without an away win all season and facing a run-in that involved trips to Arsenal and Manchester United. So, in summary, we were fucked. 

To add to the mess, controversial summer signing Carlos Tevez had still not scored all season and his pal Javier Mascherano was apparently stuffing his face with pizza in a Docklands flat having failed to displace Hayden Mullins from our midfield. Still, by the time we got to Wigan, things were slightly brighter after unlikely wins over Blackburn Rovers, Everton and Arsenal, sandwiched around a truly awful defeat at relegation rivals Sheffield United. 

At one point it looked as though Tevez might not play in this game as the club had to mount the first of several legal defences regarding the validity of his registration. They emerged triumphant - in a fashion - with a record £5.5m fine, and the Argentine played and starred in this remarkable win. 

Things began with a huge army of Hammers heading north on coaches paid for by the players, at the arrangement of Lucas Neill and Nigel Reo-Coker. With around 7,000 fans packed in behind the goal there was a tangible fission of excitement on the air. A win would pull us level with Wigan and put increasing pressure on the likes of the faltering Sheffield United and Fulham. 


Boa Morte scores. Horsemen of the Apocalypse on their way

After an opening half an hour where we were well on top, Neill launched a through ball for Luis Boa Morte to run on to. Wigan keeper John Filan weighed up all possible options and chose the worst one available by running directly at Boa Morte, who lobbed him for his first goal in claret and blue. He would literally have been better off doing The Barthez,

Bobby Zamora could have made it two before half time, but we would soon seal the win with a fabulous breakaway goal where Tevez, Zamora and George McCartney would combine to set up Yossi Benayoun. Substitute Marlon Harewood added a late third, and The Great Escape was well and truly on. 

In the end, Sheffield United would end up being relegated, which I'm sure everyone would agree was a shame. Oddly, the long trip home was punctuated by seeing demoralised Charlton Athletic fans who had travelled to watch their team play at Blackburn Rovers as part of Alan Pardew's inspired "Operation Ewood" escape plan. They lost 4-1. 

Our karmic retribution would come in the summer when Henry Winter, Neil Warnock and a confused judge would request we pay £25m to Sheffield United over the Tevez affair. Still, we'll always have that goal from Luis Boa Morte. 


(Kouyate (43), Zarate (57))

Back to 2015/16 and back to those improbable away results conjured up by Slaven Bilic. On the opening day we made the short trip to The Emirates where it was reasonable to assume that we were going to get our usual hiding at the hands of Arsene Wenger's men, especially as we had only just returned from being dumped out of Europe at the hands of Romanian powerhouse Astra Giurgiu, or Astra Fucking Goo Goo to give them their full title. While it's true that the Arsenal of 2015 wasn't the Arsenal of 2005 it is also true that they weren't the shower that we've seen parading around the Premier League recently, so we were heavy underdogs.

The game was an entertaining affair, played out in bright sunshine and with a pleasing flow. New signing Angelo Ogbonna was rock solid at the back, while 16 year old Reece Oxford made Mesut Ozil disappear long before it became as fashionable as it is now. But the real star was new boy Dimitri Payet, who played in a nominal left wing role and was simply majestic. He crossed just before half time for Cheikhou Kouyate to give us the lead, while Petr Cech conducted an experiment in finding out exactly how badly a goalkeeper could misjudge a dive. 

The Czech's misery continued later when Mauro Karate fired past him from twenty yards and we hung on to seal a comfortable win. Notably Matt Jarvis and Kevin Nolan appeared as late substitutes, signifying a kind of handover from the old Allardyce era to what seemed like it might be a sun drenched modern adventure under Bilic. We lost 4-3 to Bournemouth a week later. Never change, lads. 


(Son (1), Kane (8, 16) - Balbuena (82), Sanchez (OG 85), Lanzini (90)) 

Oh baby. Lanziniiiiiiiiiiii!

You shouldn't really have a draw this high in a list of your greatest games, but then again you shouldn't draw a game where you are three goals down with eight minutes to play. For all those hundreds of games we watch and attend, for all those insipid defeats and tedious draws that we immediately consign to the wastepaper bin of history, it only takes one game like this to make you remember precisely why you first fell in love with the game. Football, bloody hell. 

To the neutral this must have been a bizarre match to watch. Spurs opened the scoring within a minute when we decided not to bother tackling Heung Min-Son, and Harry Kane soon added another couple. All three goals were brilliantly conceived and executed and at that point for West Ham fans it was simply a case of how many more they would score, and how much longer we would be able to keep watching. 

But Jose Mourinho isn't a coach to ever let loose the handbrake and David Moyes has imbued his team with a steel that hasn't been seen in a West Ham team for quite some time. Even at 3-0 we were still playing alright, with the obvious caveat that the home team had mostly gone into a mode of containment and were content to wait for chances to hit us on the break. As it was, Kane was denied a perfect hat trick by the post, and then everything went...nuts.


Manuel Lanzini. I love you

First, Fabien Balbuena made up for some questionable defending on the Son goal to head a consolation, and then Andriy Yarmolenko and Vladimir Coufal combined to force Davinson Sanchez to head a bit more consolation into his own net, and suddenly we had five minutes of hope left. The pivotal moment arrived when keen golfer and amateur footballer Gareth Bale went through and ruined his coming home party by shooting wide with the goal at his mercy. Reprieved, we went up the other end and with four minutes of added time already in the book Manuel Lanzini smashed home a thirty yarder off the underside of the bar, Moyes did a little jig on the touchline, we all felt extremely consoled and Mourinho took it all with the customary good grace for which he is famous. Oh, to have been in the away end when that went in. 

Better still, whenever I think of this game I am reminded of this - the best, and most dramatically executed headphone push of all time. 


No. No. No. No. NO. NO!


(Reo-Coker (25), Zamora (32), Etherington (80) - Henry (45), Pires (89))

Another entry into the history books and arguably the most unlikely victory on this list. In 2006, Arsenal were in the middle of Arsene Wenger's reign and as strong as ever. Filled with world class superstars, they were especially formidable at Highbury in their final season there before moving to The Emirates. They would lose just two home league games all season and this, famously, was one. 

We weren't in great shape going in to this game as we had no right back, with Tomas Repka having headed  back to the Czech Republic a couple of weeks previously, and were thus forced to deploy the extremely left footed Clive Clarke there. Things began predictably as Arsenal swarmed all over us, and Robin van Persie slammed a strike against the woodwork, but having battled through the initial flurry we broke away and took the lead as Sol Campbell channelled his inner Gary Breen and Nigel Reo-Coker snatched an opener. Seven minutes later Bobby Zamora slapped Campbell around like a piรฑata and curled home a beautiful second and all of a sudden it was one of those nights. 

Arsenal, however, remained Arsenal and Thierry Henry snatched one back on the stroke of half time to keep us all fidgeting. On another day the immense pressure applied to us in the second half would have seen a comfortable Arsenal win but between a heroic defensive performance, Shaka Hislop's heroics and some good old fashioned luck we kept them at bay. With just ten minutes left, Reo-Coker won the ball back high up the pitch and set up Matthew Etherington whose shot deflected twice on its way in. Sometimes it's just meant to be. 

Robert Pires did score in the 89th minute because why not, but we held on for a famous win and became the last away team to win at Highbury. Deliciously, we would then become the first team to win at The Emirates where Zamora bagged us a 1-0 win the following season as part of The Great Escape in another game that narrowly failed to make this list. 


(Sinclair (35), Moncur (43), Di Canio (65 p), J Cole (70), Lampard (83) - Windass (30), Beagrie (44 p), Lawrence (47, 51)

I know what you're thinking - just another typical 1-0 down, 2-1 up, 4-2 down, 5-4 victory. But this might be the definitive game of the Harry Redknapp era as it showcased almost everything good and bad about that time. We began the game in 10th position with the sense of yet another lost season hanging over the ground. Our main focus had been on the League Cup where we made a run to the quarter finals and actually beat Aston Villa in a thrilling, pulsating game that ended up being settled on penalties. 

In the purest West Ham fashion imaginable we then ended up having to replay that match after it emerged that substitute Manny Omoyimni, who didn't actually touch the ball while on the pitch, had already played in the competition and was cup tied. Rather than chuck us out of the competition as they probably should have done, the league let us replay the game knowing full well that would be a more painful process, and they were right as we lost 3-1 and Paolo di Canio missed a fateful penalty. 

By the time Shaka Hislop broke his leg two minutes into this game it seemed like more of the same. On came the much hyped young reserve goalkeeper Stephen Bywater, who looked like he was borrowing his big brothers kit, and played like he was wearing his mums oven gloves. 

Incredibly the game was still goalless on the half hour mark when Dean Windass headed in a corner with Bywater rooted to his line. Trevor Sinclair quickly equalised before John Moncur got in on the act with a screamer of a goal to give us the lead and then immediately conceded a soft penalty that Peter Beagrie put away. 

The key observation from those of us in the ground at this point was that in order to win the game it seemed pretty imperative that everybody did their best to ensure Bywater wasn't required to touch the ball for the rest of the match as he appeared never to have seen one before. Sadly this ploy failed as Jamie Lawrence took advantage of two further howlers to give the visitors a (sort of) shock 4-2 lead. 

While all this was going on Di Canio was engaged in a seemingly endless battle with referee Neale Barry as he was denied penalties on at least two occasions where the foul was certainly worse than Moncur's in the first half. After the second of this he ran across to the bench and demanded to be taken off, sitting down on the turf and generally turning in the kind of performance that would get you booed offstage in the West End for being too hammy. Instead of treating this as a shocking lack of professionalism everybody just shrugged and said "That's Paolo" and sang his name. {Insert eye roll gif}

Shortly after, Paul Kitson was fouled and the penalty was finally given. Nominated penalty taker Frank Lampard picked up the ball only to find Di Canio trying to wrestle it off him. Being a well run and thoroughly professional outfit everybody told Di Canio to piss off and reminded him that he'd missed his last penalty and wait, oh no, we let him take it because we're about as professional as your average Sunday League team. 

Anyway, he scored and everyone sang his name so that was great. {Insert eye roll gif}. A few minutes later Trevor Sinclair set up Joe Cole for the equaliser, and with Bradford quite rightly still reasoning that if they could just get a shot on target they'd win, everybody stopped defending and it was all tremendous fun. 

With seven minutes to go, Lampard got some sense of redemption when he picked up a Di Canio pass and smashed home a left footed winner from the edge of the box. What a springboard for the rest of the season, I hear you say. Not really, we lost 4-0 at home to Everton the next week. 


Monday, January 29, 2018

Wigan 2 - 0 West Ham (Or The Fall of the House of Sullivan)

"You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast"
- Bob Dylan, "It's All Over Now Baby Blue"

Ostensibly this is supposed to be a match report about a game that took place between Wigan Athletic and West Ham United in the Fourth Round of the FA Cup. For any of you who had the good fortune not to see this match, I want you to have in mind the image of a penguin and a great white shark fighting. Who do you think would win that particular match up?

Your first thought would be the shark, naturally, given all of his inbuilt advantages and everything that your experience tells you about the combatants, except that you forgot to ask me where the fight was taking place. And when I tell you it's taking place on land you'll understand why the shark had no ability to hurt the penguin, much less defeat him. Eventually the shark just...died.

And now you understand what happened to West Ham at Wigan. We just...died.



When is enough enough?

I intend no disrespect to Wigan when I say that, by the way, as they not only won this game, but won it comfortably. The 2-0 margin of victory could have been more, and while they did benefit from as bad a penalty decision as you'll ever see, and from Arthur Masuaku losing control of his cerebrum, they thoroughly deserved to win. 

The tone was set before the game when our latest injury crisis meant that Wigan were favourites with most bookies. And the sad truth is that with them flying high in League One and us still waist deep in the relegation mire, it's entirely possible that we might be in the same division next year.

But that's not what we were faced with here. Instead this was a game against a team two leagues below us and whose annual wage bill will be less than what we pay Andy Carroll to put together his equivalent of the Zagat guide for London hospitals. There is no situation in which we should ever be the underdogs for this fixture and yet there was a sense of impending doom about this from the moment the team had to leave the Bournemouth game via MEDEVAC. 


I would honestly rather we bought one of these than Daniel Sturridge

And it's because of that sense of inevitability that something snapped inside me when I watched this shit unfold. I've been somewhat prepared to defend the ownership of David Gold and David Sullivan because I felt that their greatest failing was not one of avarice, malevolence or indifference but a misplaced sense of their own competence. If they would just get out of the way and let qualified people make the decisions, I'd be fine with them as owners. But here we are, eight years from their purchase of the club and they have steadfastly refused to do that. So perhaps it is time to ask ourselves - how much has really changed? When is enough enough?

Financially there is no doubt that the club is an awful lot healthier than it was back then when we were being run by the creditors of our former Icelandic owners, and the players had to wash their own kit, but as I've mentioned several times before, nobody supports a balance sheet. 

So having all this extra money might be the result of some shrewd financial management, and razor sharp economic brilliance or maybe it's the result of grabbing a seat at the table when the astronomical TV deals started dropping right in the middle of the central trough. But either way, having all that money hasn't actually made us any better. We continue to be the same as we've always been; a well supported side who can never manage to arrange all of our ducks in a row at the same time to enable us to achieve anything. So when our youth system is good our transfer policy will let us down. And when our first team is decent the squad will be found wanting. And so it goes until our sights are gradually lowered all the way down to be fixed on survival and little else. 

But here's the thing. You can do that when you take over a club if that is a reasonable expectation for fans. Dare I say it, if you take over Swansea or Bournemouth, with their small fanbases and stadiums and their low starting point, then dragging them to the lower echelons of the Premier League is a significant achievement. But if you take over West Ham in a relegation struggle and relegate them and then get them promoted and then move stadium and change the club badge and charge us more than fans at Manchester City to watch the team, then you'd damn sure better have your sights set higher than being Bournemouth. 

So, when is enough enough?

Right. Fucking. Now. 

***

"What are we waiting for? 
Tell me, what are waiting for?"
- Matthew and Me, "Figure"

Here are our league finishes in the eight seasons prior to Gold and Sullivan taking over:

2001-02 : 7th
2002-03: 18th (R)
2003-04: 4th Championship 
2004-05: 6th Championship (P)
2005-06: 9th
2006-07: 15th
2007-08: 10th
2008-09: 9th

and since:

2009-10: 17th
2010-11: 20th (R)
2011-12: 3rd Championship (P)
2012-13: 10th
2013-14: 13th
2014-15: 12th
2015-16: 7th
2016-17: 11th

If you look closely you can probably see a difference between these periods in time, namely that the former features four top half finishes and a typically Shakespearean relegation. Not that I'm going to eulogise over the ownership of either Terry Brown or Eggert Magnusson but that's kind of the point isn't it? When our current owners arrived, they were supposed to be bringing the new broom that swept all this inconsistency and rank amateurism aside and yet as Will Grigg headed in a goal here after just seven minutes, I genuinely found myself wondering whether anything about my club has changed for the better in the last eight years. 

True, we had that magical season in 2015-16 when the Boleyn got the fitting send off she deserved, as we gloriously failed to make the Champions League. Nothing screams West Ham quite like the sense of a tantalising missed opportunity, after all. But what else have we had beyond a litany of failed promises to move the club forward, a traumatic and botched stadium move and the almost immediate failure of any plan implemented to improve the team?

Those season tickets that cost the same as the Etihad don't come with quite the same cast iron guarantee of entertainment or success do they? And while I understand full well the inherent unfairness of the league we play in, I am also fully cognisant that we have spent these eight seasons fighting with one hand behind our back, such is the amateurish leadership and the total lack of an overall plan for this club. 


Will Grigg's on fire, Joe Hart's not actually off the ground

Thus it was that Wigan took a deserved lead, and then played better football than us and nullified us so thoroughly that we finished this game without registering a shot on goal. And behind Joe Hart's goal stood four thousand West Ham fans, who were forced to watch as their side offered nothing even as noteworthy as a decent tackle as we exited as meekly and quietly as David Walliams at a male only charity gala.

And this is the crux of everything. I didn't even think we should have played a team this strong at Wigan. With our league position so precarious and our injury list so long, I simply didn't think we could afford the risk, with Palace to follow just 72 hours later. But whether you feel that we should prioritise the FA Cup or not - and I accept that many disagree with my view - it is absolutely unforgivable that we are forced to make that distinction in the first place.

How can it be that a club this wealthy, with these resources and ludicrously unfair advantages over the likes of Wigan can be reduced to scrambling around like this to field a team? And come to think of it, how can it be that even after we have to scratch about we can still field a starting eleven with 247 international caps and look like a team of people who won a charity auction to play this game?

In the end we neither went for it nor gave up on the tie. We played the same guys who have been playing every fixtures for weeks (Ogbonna, Obiang and Masuaku) and supplemented them with those vaunted youth prospects who spent ninety minutes proving that just because fans say "there must be someone decent in the youth setup" doesn't make it true. 

And now Obiang is probably done for the season and Masuaku is deservedly banned for six games for the despicable act of spitting at an opponent and our list of absentees continues to lengthen. And we're out of the Cup, with a tangibly negative effect on our league season. To those who believed that we could attack the FA Cup with no impact on the league campaign, that fantasy has now been well and truly shattered. 

But whatever your position on this game as a fan, that's all just hot air. It doesn't matter. We don't actually impact anything. This is a professional football team with the thirteenth highest wage bill in Europe and as fans we are entitled - yes ENTITLED - to expect our team to be competitive against anyone, let alone a team with a quarter of our resources. 

So how can we possibly be so poorly run that we are forced to shelve games against teams two divisions below us because we can't compete with them? Why is our squad so badly constructed that this team was the best we could muster here? Why is our fitness record so bad that we once again have a crisis where we struggle to name a fit eleven players? Why is our wage bill so huge that we can't comfortably add players without first needing to ship some out? Why does our Academy fail to produce any first team players, while our local neighbours are selling theirs for £20m? Why is our manager once again being undermined by a media whispering campaign as well placed leaks start to lay the blame for the lack of transfer activity at his door? And most pertinently of all, why are the people who have presided over all of this for eight years still the ones who are making the decisions that keep this whole clown car on the road? 

I am done. I am so done. In fact I am so done that I have now started talking like an YouTube food vlogger. Give me quinoa over the need to play Quina, I suppose. 

This can't go on. I can't take another transfer window that has no purpose beyond fixing the mistakes of the previous one. I can't take the slow undermining of another manager from a Board who are desperate to hire an expensive, big name coach and yet fail to understand that it is they who might be the single biggest barrier to hiring such a person. I can't take another Karren Brady column in The Sun that further embarrasses the club with needless, unwanted commentary on our affairs. I can't take any more nepotism. I can't take it. I can't.

So, when is enough enough?

Right. Fucking. Now.

***

"It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will"
- Sam Cooke, "A Change is Gonna Come"

The obvious answer to all of my questions in this piece is straightforward. Why all these things are happening is because the club is not being run properly and the people responsible aren't going to fire themselves. There is no obvious decision making structure, and so the owners, the chief scout, the manager and apparently the owner's sons all participate in the process. I have argued many, many times for a Director of Football and while I fear I may be getting tedious in my repetition, I would like to think that you will all agree that there are warranted grounds for such circular arguments. 

This current transfer window is a perfect example of our failure of process. A manager who isn't guaranteed to be here in six months is assessing players with a mindset entirely consistent with that short term timeframe. At the same time, an owner who swears he isn't involved with transfers unless they are successful has released a statement saying that he is working "night and day" with the manager to bring in new players. And all the while, it's screamingly obvious that what the club needs is someone to hit the reset button. We need younger players. We need fitter players. We need cheaper players. We need better players. And this structure hasn't been able to identify them with any consistency for years.

For example, how many injury crises is too many before we stop blaming it on bad luck and start wondering about other factors? What about that dirt cheap training ground that doesn't have any indoor facilities? How about Gary Lewin being recruited from Arsenal with much fanfare about the fact he was a West Ham fan, and far less noise about the chronic hamstring injuries Arsenal had dealt with for years? Or indeed how many players with poor injury records did we have to buy before acknowledging that perhaps it was unrealistic to expect them to suddenly transform their bodies after two weeks in a rubbish bin filled with ice, in Rush Green?


Andy has always been good on crosses

And if you think that I'm reacting rather exaggeratedly to a few injuries, perhaps it would be worth revisiting what some of our previous managers have had to say on the topic:

Alan Curbishley in 2007
Alan Curbishley in 2008
Gianfranco Zola in 2009
Avram Grant in 2010
Sam Allardyce in 2011
Sam Allardyce in 2012 
Sam Allardyce in 2013
Sam Allardyce in 2014
Sam Allardyce in 2015
Slaven Bilic in 2015
Slaven Bilic in 2016
Slaven Bilic in 2017

At this point it boggles my mind that West Ham aren't the biggest spenders on injury prevention and training facilities in Europe. 

And as I watched Josh Cullen struggle to imprint himself on this game, and Reece Oxford regress before my very eyes, and Antonio Martinez look every inch a player destined to play in the lower leagues it brought home starkly how useless our Academy has been for the past decade. I believe in Declan Rice, I think Reece Burke has something and I refuse to give up on Oxford but it shouldn't be this hard. In an age when young players have such huge value because of what you don't have to spend to get them, it says so much that we seem determined to use other clubs to develop our youngsters and then pick them up when they are let go at 19 or 20. 

Once again I must repeat myself - when you are doing things that nobody else in your industry is doing then you are either miles ahead of the competition or miles behind. I'll let you decide which we are. 

***

"Forty eight thousand seats bleats
And roars for my memories of you"
- Alt-J, "Something Good"

By the time that Reece Burke was ludicrously punished for having his hands by his sides when Grigg flicked the ball on to his right arm, the jig was up. Grigg duly scored the penalty to make it 2-0 but so anaemic was our attack that it felt a little bit like they were rubbing it in. Which in itself is like getting mugged by a kid with a water pistol.

By then Masuaku was long gone, having responded to some sort of provocation by spitting. Whatever was said, it's no excuse, as you can't do that, and now we lose him for six games. His bete noir was Nick Powell, the former Manchester United midfielder, who had been the best player on the pitch. Some of that was due to the fact that Pedro Obiang had been stretchered off after a poor tackle from Max Power, which went unpunished and gave an interesting juxtaposition between how football deals with bad tackles by comparison to actions that don't end players seasons but are largely unpalatable.  


Seems reasonable

We later saw new arrival Joao Mario enter the fray, and immediately take up a position out wide in search of some reception so he could call his agent and fire him. From Milan to Wigan and a ten man West Ham side is quite the journey, after all. My initial impression was that he will need to increase the pace of his play by about 300% if he wants to survive, but this wasn't a day for judging newly arrived foreign imports. His time will come again on Tuesday, and one hopes he has the ability to adapt and justify the typically astronomical wages and loan fee that we have shelled out. These are exactly the kinds of cost that fans don't see and don't factor into why we won't have any money to spend in the summer. 

And thus we limp on to Palace and Tuesday and if ever the London Stadium needed to be jumping it's for this one. I can't even really fathom what kind of team we might play, but it will be a tough old slog. And while I apologise for presenting such a bleak and pessimistic H List, I also have to acknowledge that this is truly how I feel about West Ham right now. 

It is time for a change at the top. 

Perhaps not in so drastic a sense as selling up, because calling for that is nonsense unless there are people actively seeking to buy the club, but in terms of decision making and structure. We have surely reached the end of the House of Sullivan. It may not be tomorrow or this year or even this decade, but I've turned that page now. Sullivan is not capable of doing the job he insists upon doing and the time has come to gracefully stand aside. Or at least I'm flexible on the graceful bit but the standing aside is non negotiable, and it's not acceptable either to hand the role to a teenager. 

Up to a point I think he's done some good things but the hubris of taking on an enterprise such as this and repeatedly failing to acknowledge your own shortcomings is simply not acceptable. His greatest crime has been to treat each season as a rehearsal, with a default position that once it all goes wrong it can be fixed in January, and then they'll have another crack in the summer. And with every failed attempt, the game has advanced further without us as we remain stuck in some Nineteen Seventies timewarp where the chairman owned a local van hire company and the manager dealt with the petty cash.

So let me address David Sullivan directly for a moment. 

Nope David, these are real live games and those are real live fans, and the money they shelled out on Saturday was hard earned and they deserved better than to see such a pitiful display. You've had a go, and I don't doubt that you've done your best but this can't carry on. We can't continue to be a patient in need of life saving surgery. Please, for the good for the club - get somebody in who has a track record of delivering the kind of success you purport to want the club to have. Because, and I say this with respect, you have never managed that. You have never qualified for the Champions League, you have never overseen a team that regularly finishes in the top eight and challenges for honours. You have never attracted a top class manager to work for you. You had never overseen a stadium move and that's gone roughly as well as your forays into the world of film making.

West Ham is not a plaything. We deserve better. 

And if a final example is needed then consider the recent President's Ball. That scandal blew up and I didn't think it would be possible for it to be embarrassing for West Ham and yet somehow it was. It turns out that David Sullivan is a patron of that event. And similarly, his teenage son Jack was on the guest list. Let's leave aside for the moment whether Jack should be attending such an event at his age and just focus on the fact that he is the Chairman of West Ham Ladies Football Club. If ever an incident highlighted the nonsense of how we run our club this was it. I don't know if Jack Sullivan took up his invitation, but he was on the guest list, and that alone shows a lack of judgement.

I am so tired of this. Of feeling so endlessly negative about the club because all we ever seem to do is stumble from one crisis to another. I want a plan. I want a vision. I want hope. I want to see a decision I don't understand and be able to think "Let's give them the benefit of the doubt as they know what they're doing" rather than "Christ, what nonsense is this now?".

I don't want this to be so obviously and painfully hilarious.




So, when is enough enough?

Right. Fucking. Now.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Wigan Athletic vs West Ham United: Match Preview - 12/09/2009

1. A Change Of Tack

I don’t know about you, but personally I think this blog has become just a little too considered in recent weeks at the expense of our bread and butter.

Perilous flirtation with the threat of legal action has been discarded in favour of sound reasoning, and that has to change.

I plan to address this dumbing down of the groundless histrionics which lie at the core of any self-respecting madman’s agenda - it’s political correctness gone mad.

If we could afford solicitors here at The H List, I’m sure we’d be paying them far too much for doing too little, so it’s about time these imaginary leeches earned their scandalously fictitious pay cheques.

2. ‘Av it

Wigan owner, Dave Whelan, upon being asked with which fist he will punch his grand-daughter to sleep with tonight.

3. Opposition

The latest episode in our inexorable march to midtable sees us visit everyone's favourite least favourite team, Wigan Athletic.

Wigan's summer activity largely involved big name departures - Luis Antonio Valencia went to Man United in a bid to slip into the Brylcream-slickened shoes of Cristiano Ronaldo, and Steve Bruce was unavoidably whisked north to Sunderland by the haphazard nature of his physics-resistant snout.

Lee Cattermole was ensnared in Bruce’s rhinal vortex meaning that, along with Wilson Palacios and Valencia, Wigan have lost arguably their three most influential players in little over a year, albeit for a tidy profit.

That Dave Whelan is ploughing said profit into child labour technologies is both deplorable and typical of the man.

In came former Wigan player Roberto Martinez, arriving as he did from Swansea, to take the reins of Whelan's immoral sweat shop.

A surprising opening day victory away to Villa has since been marred by a home defeat to Wolves, a 5-0 thumping by Man Utd, a 2-1 away loss to Everton and an embarrassing 4-1 defeat at Blackpool in the Carling Cup.

So they’re obviously about due for a result.

4. Nowhere Man

HeadHammer Shark’s unrequited love has left him high and dry, although for whom is still unclear.

Lucas Neill was on the verge of signing for Atletico Madrid this week, a deal which fell through at the last minute. Fellow Spanish side Real Zaragoza also declared an interest, but were perturbed by the Aussie’s wage demands. The latest is that Sunderland are to offer Neill £40,000-per-week.

Prior to the Madrid deal collapsing, Neill claimed that his motivation was the opportunity to play in the Champions League. Funny. The very same opportunity presented to him by Liverpool in 2007 didn’t stop him signing for a team in the midst of a relegation battle for a considerably higher wage.
The old excuse of 'testing himself against the best' doesn't wash either. The last time I checked John Pantsil still played in The Premier League.

Despite all his protestations (according to the man himself, a move to Madrid would represent “a brave decision”), money is clearly his only motivation. Just how many Kit Kat Chunkys can one man buy??

While I never shared HeadHammer Shark’s unbridled love of Neill, he certainly played a major role in our battle against relegation and showed glimpses of his old form towards the end of last season - when he was in the shop window.

I would have a whole lot more respect for him if he came out with the truth, or even kept his mouth shut, instead of spouting translucent platitudes.

5. The Story So Far…

We have experienced a gamut of outcomes in just the first three games of the season: a comfortable win at Wolves, a narrow and frustrating loss at home to tottenham, and a lame duck draw away at Blackburn.

Our underwhelming forays into the transfer market dictate that we must see out the next four months with a reasonably threadbare attack. I am thus far equally underwhelmed with our attempts at a 4-3-3 system, particularly as it invariably reverts to a 4-5-1 coupled with a frustrating amount of hopeful balls lobbed up to Carlton Cole.

Regardless of personnel available, we should at least explore a trusty old 4-4-2, if only to give opposition defenders something/someone else to think about and thereby freeing up more space for Big Carlton.

One of Jiminez, Dyer or Diamanti should partner the big man, with one of the remaining two floating in behind. Use Stanislas as an impact substitute and Noble, Parker and Collison/Valon Behrami to do the graft in midfield.

The industrious and popular Behrami made his return from injury in a midweek reserves 6-0 win over Birmingham, playing for an hour. In the same game Alessandro Diamanti scored twice either side of half-time, with both goals direct from free-kicks.

For a West Ham side this is as rare as me getting through any ITV football coverage without writing a death threat to the producer.

6. You And I Are Gonna Live Forever

It took no time this season for Convicted Price Fixer Dave Whelan to fire the first shot in our ceaseless war of attrition. When I heard the news that the already self-promoting JJB Stadium had been renamed The DW Stadium, my first thought was 'he's left the 'CPF' off the front.'

My second, more hysterical thought was that this immodest move from Whelan was a personal slight, one I aim to repay in kind. An attempt to re-name this blog ‘Stand Up To Suspect Northern Tradesmen’ has been met with a stony silence by my employer (who doesn’t pay me any wage, by the way).

Whelan's Stalinist attempt to add 'immortality' to his already questionable rรฉsumรฉ does nothing for his public persona. We can only hope that in time, this vacuous monument to evil is felled as easily as Eduardo, and the armies of children toiling in Whelan’s gulags are freed.

7. Internazionale

Wednesday night saw Fabio Capello’s England book their place at the 2010 World Cup Finals in South Africa, thanks to a commanding 5-1 defeat of Croatia at Wembley Stadium.

West Ham representatives Matthew Upson and Rob Green both did well, Upson cementing his place as first reserve centreback in the absence of Rio Ferdinand, and Green notably contributing when called upon.

Green made a fine save down to his left late on and smothered the follow-up, only to concede while prostrate during the ensuing mรชlรฉe, as John Terry was on the line busily directing his mother towards some unguarded handbags.

8. The Power Of Authority

Football’s governing bodies have recently bared their teeth and for once have done so meaningfully.
Eduardo Da Silva punished retrospectively for diving against Celtic? A good thing.
Chelsea banned from transfer dealings for two years for yet again tapping up young talent? Brilliant.

‘Get up, you diving cheat! Cheat! Cheat! Cheat!’

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Wigan Athletic 0 - 1 West Ham (And Other Ramblings)

1. Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I'll Go Mine)

The title of this section really relates to Carlton Cole and the rest of the team.

It could also be about the upper and lower halves of Scott Parker's body after Lee Cattermole kindly attempted to separate them from one another.

2. Not Dark Yet

I'm not going to begin this review anywhere other than with our goal. Because we don't score goals like that very often. In fact not many teams score goals like that too often.

The move began deep in our half with Tomkins and Ilunga combining to find Parker, who was taking a brief break from kicking the shit out of Michael Brown. His resultant pass was beautifully worked by Noble and di Michele to free Cole, who in turn swept it past Kirkland from a tight angle, with all the panache that befits an England centre forward. (Phrases I never thought I'd type - Vol 23)

The goal featured a precision of pass, and fluidity of movement that was so obviously lacking under Curbishley, but has been joyously restored under Zola. Had Arsenal put together a move like this, I'm pretty sure that we'd be forced to watch it endlessly whilst various BBC pundits tripped over themselves to hail it as The Greatest Goal. Ever.

Of course, if Arsenal had put that move together it would have featured two more superfluous passes, and Nicklas Bendtner hitting the post from 3 yards out.

Anyway, enough mocking the defenceless. We haven't passed the ball this well since, ooh, we did this to Chelsea (you should zero in on 5:11 if you want instant gratification).

3. Simple Twist Of Fate

This was another in a curious series of games where the statistics don't quite tell the whole story, or indeed even give you much insight at all into proceedings. At half time we had had 58% of the ball, and were absolutely hammering Wigan. Cole had got himself sent off, but mercifully Cattermole attempted a revolutionary "Shearing" procedure on Parker's abdomen and the game subsequently drifted into a vast void of nothingness.

By the end, we had possession for 48%, and managed just 3 shots on goal. By contrast Wigan mustered 5 but none of any particular note. And no, the game was not more exciting than it sounded. I mean, don't get me wrong, it wasn't as bad as having to sit through an episode of Mistresses on BBC1, but it wasn't exactly enjoyable.

Elsewhere, we committed only 11 fouls all game but somehow managed to pick up 6 yellow cards, which suggests that we were either producing a higher class of foul or that the refereeing was on the questionable side of peculiar. This is a subject we'll be touching on later, so pay attention at the back.

4. Going, Going Gone

If you are playing for a team that is getting beaten, is being outplayed and then gets a chance to get back into the game when the opposition have a man sent off, I'm pretty sure that the one thing you absolutely should not do is get a red card yourself.

I shudder to think of the earful Lee Cattermole got from Steve Bruce after his dismissal, but if I could judge it based on the look he gave him it might very well have consisted of a .22 bullet and a baseball bat. Cattermole, who seems to be a cage fighter trapped in a footballers body, was clearly incensed at having been on the end of a nasty shoeing from Lucas Neill but it doesn't excuse his ludicrous lunge at Parker.

With him went Wigan's numerical advantage and thus their chance of getting back into the game. As far as footballing skills go, Cattermole makes a pretty good bouncer, but he was a warm body and when it reverted back to ten apiece the game drifted to an inevitable conclusion.

5. North Country Blues

On the face of it, there isn't a huge amount to like about Wigan. Their stadium is situated in the seventh circle of Hell, they are owned by a convicted price fixer, their fans have rigor mortis, they pay Michael Brown actual legal tender to play football and once upon a time they sided with Sheffield United on "principle". It's a Mos Eisley for football fans (and a mental high five for anyone who gets that reference - meet me at Bespin for a beer).

All that being said, they have been a pleasant surprise in Premiership terms this year as their random collection of exotic imports and thugs have greatly out performed more celebrated (and more expensively assembled) competitors, to establish themselves as a top ten outfit. They have done so whilst playing a semi reasonable brand of football, even if they descended right along with us into a shit kicking fest during this game.

6. My Back Pages

The focus of the media coverage of this game was referee Stuart Atwell, who is 26 and incompetent according to several sage observers. "He lacks experience" they scream, because the older referees in the Premier League are so stunningly good that this point cannot be argued.
Of course, there is no denying that Atwell was appalling in this game. Cole barely deserved a single booking for his two challenges, whilst Parker and Neill both could have gone for questionable fouls themselves. He was clearly influenced by Michael Brown in sending off Cole, which is ludicrous because everyone knows that Brown was an apprentice at Sheffield United under Colin Wanker and is therefore Evil Incarnate.

But really was Atwell really that much worse than what we usually see? If he was 43 nobody would have batted an eyelid at his performance. Indeed it is ironic that football managers who so readily repeat platitudes like "if he's good enough he is old enough" in respect of their own players, are so keen to lambast a younger referee when he is inept.

Look, I'm not suggesting that a referee who awards a goal when the ball goes out for a corner is the brightest star in the officiating galaxy, but the people who were primarily to blame for the descent into madness during this game were Messrs Parker, Cattermole, Neill and Brown, and not the poor sap in the middle left to try and sort it all out.

7. The Times They Are A Changin'

Jack Collison was the latest addition to the West Ham wing at Queens Hospital as he managed to dislocate his kneecap whilst chesting the ball down. This feat of injury japery was greatly admired by Kieron Dyer and Dean Ashton who are busy working on their own retorts.

He joins Valon Behrami on the longish term injury list, and will be sorely missed over the next few weeks, especially by my fathers cardiac specialist given that his replacement is likely to be Luis Boa Morte.

No need to worry though. Remember that January fire sale when we got rid of loads of players so we had a nice small squad to work with? Well that's paying dividends now as we were able to put a substitutes bench together here with an average age of 20 amongst the outfield players.

Now I'm not against a youth movement, but our squad looks woefully thin for a run in where we are trying to secure a 7th place finish that would likely give us entry into the UEFA Europa Money Spinning But Not Like The Champions League League.

8. Tears Of Rage

Apropos of not very much at all, but Scott Parker got really angry as Cole was being sent off and his shaven head could be seen screaming at Michael Brown immediately after.

The news here is not that Michael Brown is a tosspot, or that Parker gets angry, but more that Parker now has a shaven head rather than the sensible side parting he has been boasting for the last few months.

9. You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

A word then for Zola and Clarke who continue to mastermind our ascent up the league despite a playing squad that has gotten smaller with each passing week. The goal scored in this game was a timely reminder of the different way that we are now playing under the new management team, and the aforementioned boy scout bench was a timely reminder of the different way in which they are now being asked to operate.

I have no idea what will happen at Chelsea this summer or if Guus Hiddink will find a way to double his roubles, but it would seem safe to say that should we continue in the same vein then it won't be long before someone comes calling for Zola and Clarke.

With the prospect of a new owner on the horizon and the Sheffield United case now apparently resolved, these are potentially exciting times ahead. Which usually means only bad things for us...

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Wigan Athletic vs West Ham United: Match Preview - 04/03/2009

1. How Long Has This Been Going on?

Having served a 3-match ban for jinxing our FA Cup run, The H List previews return just in time to pull HeadHammer Shark back from the brink of an ill-conceived war with the Netherlands.

A chronic lack of preparation and generally slapdash approach are hallmarks of this blog, so I am well equipped to leap straight back into the fray.

2. Call To Arms


My self-imposed hiatus has been partially due to the despondency at seeing ourselves revert to type and come unstuck against the likes of Bolton and ‘Boro.

Sunday’s victory and general display against Man City coupled with Craig Bellamy’s ineffectual performance and injury have reignited my appetite, though not to the extent that I am willing to do any research.

The flirtation of a return to action was sealed with a glance at the fixture list, showing that our next game is against Wigan Athletic, one of the most loathsome teams in the League and one guided by a geometrist’s nightmare with an outrageous nasal defiance of gravity.

If history has taught us anything, it’s that the forces of evil must always be met head-on by average men with ill-prepared commentary.

3. Marvels Of Medicine


Valon Behrami felt great after his oxygen treatment.

4. Opposition


Wigan Athletic.

Bank-rolled by a convicted price-fixer.

Managed by a rhinal contortionist.

Formerly willing to pay Kevin Kilbane money (actual money) as a professional footballer.

Consider it reasonable to expect visiting sides to clamber through the cratered morass of Flanders fields in the pursuit of a football.

Sold their two most effective players in Wilson Palacios and Emile Heskey during the transfer window.

Brought in Charles N’Zogbia, who graciously headed for the JJB Stadium despite self-claimed interest from AC Milan, Real Madrid and Barack Obama’s inaugural administration.

Continually praised for having an outstanding season, while we are lambasted as an affront to civility who repeatedly flout the Geneva Convention, despite being above Wigan in the league.

Have of late displayed such wastefulness in front of goal as to rival our own David Di Michele.

Their manager recently accused of war crimes (by me) having been linked with blueprints (again, by me) detailing his eerie powers as the precursor to the Death Star’s tractor beam.

Have established themselves as regular Premiership participants, in flagrant contravention of karma and the teachings of all the major religions.

Mido returns to contention after injury and is a man who ranks behind only Kevin Davies and Michael Owen in his cloying habit of scoring against us.

5. Narcoleptic News


Friday provides the latest chapter in the unending saga of our financial malaise.

Chairman Bjorgolfur Gudmundsson’s holding company, Hansa, are due in the Icelandic courts in a bid to delay the appointment of creditors and the potential administration of BG’s assets.

The Board are likely to point to our recent ascent of the League table as evidence of the need for stability for the remainder of the season.

I'm thinking of putting together a bid myself just to end the tedium. I've scraped together €4.60, half a Bounty and a dog-eared copy of Charlotte's Web.

6. History

Our record at the JJB Stadium is very good, having lost just once in six visits and emerging victorious on four occasions.

Our singular defeat came last season when none other than genetic aberration Kevin Kilbane beat Rob Green with a looping header just before halftime.

In the first game of this season, we laboured to a 2-1 win at Upton Park. Dean Ashton was briefly revived from his Malted Milk-induced coma to score twice in the first ten minutes.

We then did our utmost to throw the game away, but despite our best efforts, managed to claim all three points.

Physics-meddling fantasist, Steve Bruce said:

"Their fans will go away thinking that Wigan are a decent side."

Never!

7. Hope On The Horizon

As has been customary through the ages, we have once again stuttered when confronted with one-dimensional and lesser sides, having failed to capitalise on recent encounters with Bolton and Middlesbrough.

The next clutch of fixtures are similarly fraught with danger: Wigan, West Brom, Blackburn and Sunderland turning what is conceivably a stroll in the park into a mined ravine.

Were we to play to our potential in these games, we could finally banish the not-quite-exorcised-spectre of relegation and look forward to the potential of European competition next season.

8. The Battle For Middle Earth

Valon Behrami was worryingly stretchered off against City with what looked like a very nasty injury. He was due to miss this game through suspension anyway and Mark Noble returns from the sin-bin to stake a claim in midfield.

In the absence of the commendably committed Behrami, I will be interested to see whether Savio gets the nod ahead of Noble, who has been out of sorts recently.

Zola has spoken of his desire to relieve any pressure from the shoulders of the Ugandan-born German international as he is only 19, but if he's good enough, he's old enough and the youngster could be in line for his debut start.

A midfield of Parker, Noble, Collison and Kovac would be unlikely to maintain any threat or incisive supply and so I would like to see our record signing get at least the first 60 minutes.


7. Picture Book



Mark Hughes looks on agog as Steve Bruce marshals the mighty forces of his Angular Hooter™, compelling the flight of the ball to fulfil his evil bidding.

Friday, August 15, 2008

West Ham United vs Wigan Athletic: Match Preview - 16/08/2008

1. They’re Under Starters Orders…

Here we go again!

Firstly, allow me to publicly register my outrage at the sale of King John Pantsil to Fulham – a decision so bereft of imagination and foresight that it could only have come from Alan Curbishley.

The loss of image rights alone has deprived us all of the proposed line of official Pantsil silken smoking jackets with complimentary snuff box.

I am still understandably raw and emotional at the prospect of never again seeing John Pantsil careering across the pitch from right to left before delivering a perfectly timed waist-high challenge on Reo-Coker without getting himself booked. A genius.

So then…

Greetings everyone and I hope you have all enjoyed a welcome break from the banality of last season and return refreshed, ready to forsake any faith and see ones hopes and dreams systematically crushed by Christmas.

An above average if unspectacular pre-season, complete with the customary smattering of injuries, has led us all to Saturday’s opener at home to Wigan Athletic – a game with all the inevitability of a condemned man’s slow march to the gallows.

There has been no activity in the transfer market to set the pulse racing, whilst we have all sat idly by and seen many a comparable team strengthen. Still, I personally am looking forward to seeing whether Curbs can break last year’s record of squeezing his favourite saying “with the injuries we’ve had” into as many sentences as possible.

2. Comings And Goings

The major signing of the summer has been Valon Behrami, the Swiss international signed from Lazio for £5 million who plays as a versatile midfielder-cum-fullback.

Behrami was an unspectacular presence at Euro 2008 but one of the more impressive players in a tame display against Villareal during the inaugural Bobby Moore Cup last week. He seems capable of slotting in where needed and one hopes that he can perform sufficiently well to command a place in the starting line-up, particularly by making forward runs into the box.

(Curbishley seems adamant that Scott Parker is our attacking midfielder, but the truth is he does little on the rare occasions he finds himself in advanced positions.)

Other additions include Czech goalkeeper Jan Lastuvka from Shakhtar Dontesk and Icelandic U-18 international defender Orn Eyjolfsson, as well as Balint Bajner from Liberty Oradea – big names all.

To make way for the newcomers and to ease the wage bill, Nobby Solano was puzzlingly released and Fulham laid claim to both Bobby Zamora and marauding hero King Pantsil for a combined £6.3 million. Perennial underachiever Richard Wright has also been sent back from whence he came.

I read a typically misleading tabloid rumour that we are tailing Fenerbache captain Stephen Appiah. Having also been linked with him last year one hopes there may be some truth to the story as Ghanaian Appiah would be a classy addition to our midfield.

Of course I read the very next day that Portsmouth were on the verge of poaching him from under our nose but even if we do acquire him, although a welcome addition, he is not the sort of player to address our chronic lack of creativity.

3. Swede And Sour

Tight economic times have meant that redundancies are becoming an increasingly regular occurrence in the workplace and it seems that even professional footballers are not immune. Fortunately for Freddie Ljungberg, he received a £6 million payoff.

Ljungberg’s departure confirms that his headline grabbing acquisition has backfired spectacularly. A £3 million transfer fee and £85,000 a week wages for a 30-year old past his best was always a questionable business decision and the resultant parting of ways are a direct result of the Board’s commitment to cutting the wage bill.

Two goals in just 25 appearances is a modest return at best, despite Ljungberg turning in steadily more impressive performances towards the back end of last season.

The undoubted commercial motive behind his signing (Ljungberg must have fronted every new-fangled Hammers product in the last 12 months, save John Pantsil’s cravat and monocle combination pack) is now exposed as the short-sighted policy it was and has all but been negated by Ljungberg’s exorbitant release fee.

Hopefully the money men learn from this expensive lesson and resist the temptation to pay over the odds for what amounts to little more than headlines, good and bad. Either way, the Board appear a lot less wasteful in the absence of Eggert Magnusson.

4. No Moore Number 6

Fifty years since Bobby Moore made his debut for West Ham United, the Board has made the commendable decision to retire his famous Number 6 shirt in honour of all the great man did for the club.

This step is all the more unusual as the retiring of a squad number is an unprecedented practice in English football. A common theme for retired greats in America (Wayne Gretsky of the NHL, Michael Jordan for Chicago Bulls), this action has only marginally found its way into Europe via a very select few from Serie A – Diego Maradona for Napoli, Franco Baresi for AC Milan and Roberto Baggio for Juventus.

The West Ham number 6 seems the most appropriate place for this kind of honour to debut on these shores, although one hopes that it does not become too regular an occurrence among English teams as there are very few genuine candidates (George Best, Bobby Charlton, Mike Small) and the retiring of tottenham’s number 3 in honour of Justin Edinburgh would nullify the whole point.

Retiring tottenham as a club in preservation of the sanctity of football, now that would get some backing.

5. The Opposition

It’s Wigan Athletic and I hate them.

The most interesting thing about their visit will be to see whether Wigan Chairman Dave Whelan has the balls to turn up this time having failed to do so last season after his insidious part in the Tevez-Mascherano furore.

The prospect of shouting at him was the sole reason I went last year, although even rarer than the sight of a convicted price-fixer was that of watching Wigan equalise with an overhead kick.

Wigan have made a few distinctly unimaginative signings this summer, the recruitment of Oliver Kapo from Birmingham City and Lee Cattermole from Middlesbrough being the most high profile. Yes, the most high profile.

To be fair to Steve Bruce, he was forced to spend most of the summer with a host of Oxbridge students as plotting the many angles of his furrowed nose has recently been incorporated into their Geometry Masters syllabus.

I really can’t bring myself to do any more research or speculate further on Wigan as they are the very antithesis of a proper football club.

6. When Irons Eyes Are Smiling


Some of you readers will know that I have recently upped sticks and moved to Dublin - a decision not influenced by Curbishley’s ‘attacking football’, but certainly vindicated by the criminal sale of King Pantsil.

Having arrived on the Emerald Isle it was fascinating to learn which English teams garner the most support. Manchester United and Liverpool have long enjoyed a strong following here, although one suspects that has a lot to do with their dominance of the game in the 80’s and 90’s.

Chelsea shirts have been spotted with alarming regularity but I’m sure that is a trend of only the last four or five years and perpetrated by those hungry for reflected glory, blissfully unaware of the ceaseless shadow cast across the UK by Lampard’s cold meat platter. Even impressionable children wearing Chelsea blue have been met with my steely-eyed glare and a firm shaking of the fist.

Sunderland have a sizeable following here too, obviously directly linked to the Keane-Quinn axis (the former revered as a god) and Aston Villa surprisingly command a small percentage of fans.

It was reassuring however to see a few West Ham shirts around and more than a few on sale in a host of sportswear shops. While obviously not one of the most supported clubs across the globe, we always appear to have a sprinkling of fans in every country and a noticeable increase compared to those clubs who like to think of themselves as bigger (tottenham, Newcastle take note).

Rest assured I have also located a Dublin Hammers Club for myself and any visitors, which I will be signing up for, regularly frequenting and enlightening them to the horrors of Fat Frank’s now infamous Porkpie Purges of 2003.

7. The Big Four Divided By Two

It’s safe to say that this season’s Premier League, like any other, will be won by one of Man U, Chelsea, Arsenal or Liverpool. However it is looking increasingly likely that the list of potential winners can be cut yet further.

The odds speak for themselves – you can barely get odds of 2-1 on either Man Utd or Chelsea whereas Arsenal are 6-1 and Liverpool out at 8-1. tottenham appear to be the bookies favourites outside the usual suspects, but still command a price of 55-1 whereas Everton, last year’s 5th place, are 440-1 for the title.

(If you’ve got a lot more money than sense, we’re 950-1 and Hull City? 10,000-1)

Despite the Premier League’s protestations that we have the healthiest league in the world, the truth is more like they directly equate health with wealth and that the upper echelons are becoming an evermore elite band. The fact is that the Premiership is now the least competitive of the major European leagues.

While it’s obvious to everyone that Hull City have as much chance of winning the Premiership as Phil Neville has of sealing a L’Oreal endorsement (and their prohibitive odds rightly reflect this), the weakest teams in Serie A and La Liga are a relatively safe 1000-1 and the Bundesliga just 500-1.

Competing for the right to finish 5th may only hold the interest of many international Premier League followers for so long and watching one of two teams win the league every year would become as entertaining as an evening with Steve Coppell.

While it would never happen, implementing practices from America such as a salary cap or their promising-youngsters trading system (not to mention their foot-long chilli cheese dogs) would surely move us all a little closer to the edge of our seats.

8. The Need For Greed

Recession? What recession?

Anyone with shares in Ginsters will have seen their dividends rocket over the last couple of days in light of the news that Fat Frank has recently signed a 5-year deal worth an estimated £140,000-per week.

Lampard insists that his desire was always to remain at Stamford Bridge and that he’s glad the whole matter has now been resolved after “compromise on both sides.” Chelsea’s reluctance to offer a morbidly obese 30-year old a five year contract is understandable and well documented, so one can assume that the length of the deal has been their submission.

Does this mean Fat Frank was forced to temper his wage demands to a mere £140 grand? Would he have walked (or waddled) had he been offered five years on £125,000?

Player’s insistence (particularly Lampard’s) that they love their clubs and protestations of loyalty become increasingly hollow each year. This has been further underlined to me since moving to Ireland.

The two largest domestic sports over here are Gaelic Football and Hurling – Gaelic being a high-paced mix of football and rugby and Hurling a higher-paced game (officially the fastest field sport) set along similar lines with the noticeable difference that each player is armed with a big stick.

Both games are played to packed houses and by genuinely hard men who have no inclination to roll around on the floor in agony unless a limb has been detached, and even then only until the necessary Savlon and Elastoplast have been applied. What I found most inspiring however is that they are both amateur sports.

Players are permitted to sign endorsement deals for sports equipment, energy drinks and the like, but they all hold regular jobs. The rules stipulate that a player cannot play for any county other than their birthplace, so essentially they are playing purely for pride in the shirt (a motivation mirrored by many an Olympian at the moment) – something to which many a footballer attests, but very few fulfil once the dollar signs light up elsewhere.

9. For Whom The Bell Tolls


Everyone knows it’s crunch time for our exalted manager. Having undoubtedly done a fantastic job in preserving our Premiership status in the first few months of his residence, Alan Curbishley then went on to spend over £40 million on assembling a squad he thought would take us to the next level.

The story since then has been one of marginal advancement tainted by bland mediocrity. Curbs has long lamented an inability to field his first choice players with any consistency whilst underlining that we finished seven places above our previous years efforts.

There are those who agree that he has yet to be given a fair crack of the whip in light of our lengthy injury list, but these few are outnumbered by those who point to his acquisition of players with poor fitness records and the grave paucity of attacking intent in our style of play.

Curbishley’s record in management thus far has been a litany of plucky teams who admirably battle their way out of relegation danger before stagnating in the back half of the season without any genuine year-on-year progression.

Our man is currently favourite to be the first manager jettisoned by his employers and it’s hard to escape the feeling that, were we to suffer a string of bad results between now and Christmas, the Board would ring the changes.

I would be genuinely interested to see what Curbishley regards as his best XI, although it remains to be seen whether he could ever field them in light of wearisome recent injuries to Craig Bellamy (Small Pox) and Kieron Dyer (Tennis Elbow).

There can be few other managers under as much pressure as Curbs before the first whistle of the season has even been blown, plus the poor fellow has to plan a viable escape route from the inexorable vortex that is Steve Bruce’s Angular Hooter ™ (you knew it was coming!)

I have no doubt that many would be happy to see Curbishley shown the door sooner rather than later, but there is no sign that we would be able to attract the requisite calibre of manager to take us forward in the style we would wish.

‘Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.’