1. What A Wonderful Life
Let me tell you of a few things that I like about my existence. I enjoy the music of Neil Young, I like Yorkshire Puddings, I am amused by the way that my two year old daughter yells "Bye guys!" when she leaves a room, I derive great pleasure from seeing a good adaptation from page to screen and I absolutely love a big sporting weekend.
Imagine, therefore, my delight at the prospect of watching England playing rugby against Scotland, seeing us play Test cricket against New Zealand - the country of my in-laws - and lastly, watching West Ham play our biggest local derby of the season, all in the space of two days.
Even better for me is if the rugby team then play insipidly and cluelessly, if the cricket team are negative and without ambition, and if West Ham perform with all the heart and desire of a piece of cheese.
Man, did I ever have a fantastic weekend.
2. To Vent Or Not To Vent?
I am wary of writing this report so soon after the event. Emotions are running high, frustrations are boiling over and the holes are still fresh in my Luis Boa Morte shaped dartboard. However, it would seem to me that if you are reading this site then you are not necessarily looking for reasoned, considered opinion. So I figured, why not? Except for the obvious emotional trauma of writing the bloody thing.
Blogs should, I suppose, reflect the visceral, ever changing emotional landscape of being a football fan. At times it is fairly hard to reflect the pain of actually paying genuine legal tender to watch this crap, but then there are only so many ways the English language will allow you to say - "lack of ambition is not an endearing trait".
I guess what I am trying to suggest here is that I might look back on this particular review as being somewhat more reactionary than usual. I can live with that of course given that I don't actually have to answer to anyone except the good Lord and the various law courts that The Boleyn Beluga is trying to gt us in front of.
3. The Statistics
As ever these days the only numbers that really matter are that we shipped 4 goals, and this time against a team 8 points below in the league. We somehow also failed to score against a defence brazenly including Michael Dawson and Paul Robinson without even a hint of irony.
We managed only 40% possession, which can't be entirely blamed upon the sending off of Boa Morte given that he had turned up for this game wearing a pair of skis and a suit of armour.
We mustered just 4 shots on target all game, with most of our chances actually arriving in the first 5 minutes. Typically, our one good chance came courtesy of some Robinson blundering, and was wasted with even more typical aplomb by a combination of our players. Thereafter, we capitulated like the proverbial house of cards and quicker than you could say "Oh my God - Curbishley has finally turned us into Charlton" we had served up a 2 goal lead and laid down the crucial early work required for an embarrassing capitulation.
Even more impressively our +8 goal difference of one week ago is now -4. I am P.R.O.U.D of my boys.
4. The Opposition
Losing 4-0 t0 anyone is shameful, but doing so against tottenham is what we in the trade like to call "a killer". Now most Hammers are struggling with this one due to the pure fact that it is tottenham, and all the personal abuse that is going to come with it. I, on the other hand, severed all contact with tottenham fans years ago, so I just feel embarrassed because, well, they are not really a very good team these days.
Their last league result was losing 4-1 to Birmingham. Ye Gods, this is the very definition of mid table mediocrity, very nicely backed up by a shockingly leaky defence. I accept that they have progressed substantially under Juande Ramos, and that their league position is a direct result of some appalling early season form, but they are not the second coming of Brazil 1970 either.
The fact that Dimitar Berbatov is an superb player does not make his team world beaters, because his excellence is counter balanced by the stunning ineptness of the likes of Dawson, Robinson and Bent. Sadly, with our lot playing like they had all taken Mogadon with their pre match electrolytes that point was totally and utterly moot.
Although 4-0 was flattering to the home team, there is no question that we were deservedly and shamefully beaten, by a better side.
5. The Referee
As I was writing my review of our delightfully irrepressible away performance at Liverpool, I had the overwhelming urge to suggest that our record of not having a player (correctly) sent off this year would end at White Hart Lane. In recent years we have routinely had a player dismissed in this fixture, including Samassi Abou, Steve Lomas, Ian Pearce and John Moncur if memory serves me rightly. But I didn't so I can't even gloat about that.
Therefore, it always seemed likely that Chris Foy would be brandishing a red card today, and so it proved when Boa Morte rightly got his marching orders for a beautifully timed chest high tackle on Aaron Lennon. I think we might explore that little passage of play elsewhere.
Elsewhere, there wasn't much wrong with Foy's performance. The free kick for Berbatov's first goal was soft, but that doesn't excuse Anton Ferdinand's sudden reversion to amoebic levels of defending from the resultant cross, and in general we were so abysmal that I could have refereed this game and we still would have lost.
6. The Inexplicable World Of Luis Boa Morte
Imagine for a moment that you are Luis Boa Morte. No one has yet discovered that you have kidnapped Alan Curbishley's first born child , and as a result you are "playing" on the wing for West Ham against tottenham.
Your usually reliable defensive colleagues have suffered a severe case of Roederian Disease and are currently riding round on unicycles in bright red wigs throwing custard pies at each other. As a result you are 2-0 down after ten minutes.
You are beginning to feel a tad frustrated and make several reckless challenges resulting in a booking, although it should be pointed that things aren't being helped by the fact you forgot to bring your boots again, and are being forced to play the whole game with two wooden tennis rackets sellotaped to your feet instead.
With half time approaching, the ball bounces out to Aaron Lennon on the edge of our box and Luis thinks -
- actually I have no idea what Luis Boa Morte was thinking at that precise moment. Maybe he was thinking that it's a long way to Tipperary, or possibly that he'd left the iron on at home, but he certainly wasn't thinking as he should have been, which was "Aaron Lennon is approximately 112 times faster than me but has no crossing ability. LET HIM HAVE THE BALL".
One ludicrously mistimed tackle later and we are down to ten men, and well on our way to a 3rd consecutive performance so bad that it split the very fabric of the Universe and caused unseasonal storms all over the country.
I remain utterly perplexed by Boa Morte. At this juncture I would describe him as the worst pound for pound player I have ever seen at West Ham. Now, I have to place that in context because this is heavily influenced by the fact that we paid £5m for him. I would not suggest that he is as bad a player as, say, Andrew Melville, but the latter only cost us a few blank DVD's so I don't feel so aggrieved about him.
The Portuguese has an atrocious technique, no pace, no goalscoring acumen and a poor temperament. So in short, he should never play for us again. Now, be still my jerking knee.
7. The Case For The Defence
After a season of hitherto unheard of defence solidity, we have returned to form with quite the bang in the last few days. With Matthew Upson finally succumbing to our injury bug, things always looked fairly bleak going into this game. Jonathan Spector seems like a nice chap, and I'm willing to bet that he gives plenty of money to charity every year, but a Premier League centre back he most certainly is not.
The fact that Anton Ferdinand suddenly decided to do a 90 minute impression of a depressed sea lion alongside him was another slight spanner in the works. You know things are bad when Darren Bent scores against you, particularly as this is illegal in 33 of the 46 counties of England.
I have been fairly silent on the subject of Lucas Neill for a while now but even he cannot be exempt from criticism. He looks overweight, overpaid and over here to be brutally honest. In fact, since his FA Cup dissection at the hands of Martin Petrov it would be fair to say that he has been doing a very reasonable impression of a water skier (Lucas Neill) being pulled along by an especially out of control speedboat (opposition winger).
George McCartney escapes my wrath as he is our only decent left footed player and I don't want to upset him.
8. Kudos
Blimey, it's hard to write this section this week. Scott Parker should be commended for getting through 90 minutes without his thorax exploding or throwing up his own ankles. I felt that Dean Ashton showed more life in this game than in the rest of the year put together, but I appreciate it's a delicate subject on here and I think we all acknowledge that a H List divided against itself cannot survive.
I suppose I might also congratulate Luis Boa Morte on removing himself from selection for our next game.
You can have your barrel back now, I think I am done scraping it.
9. Alan Attack
I suppose I saved this part for last, purely because it's the most difficult to write. Mocking Luis Boa Morte, Michael Dawson or Darren Bent is fairly passe these days but the thorny subject of Alan Curbishley is a far more sensitive issue.
Let me first preface all of this by stating the following: I would rather finish 14th playing attacking football, than 10th playing in our current style.
I do not claim to speak for all West Ham fans, nor do I suggest that my thought process is even logical but I say it none the less. I pay good money to watch West Ham and the sad fact is that I have yet to truly enjoy a single home game this year. I certainly loved the last few minutes of the home games against Man Utd and Liverpool but the dross served up beforehand was about as tedious as it gets.
I am well aware of the fact that we are significantly better placed than this time last year, and for that Curbishley must be congratulated. Our season of consolidation has been successfully navigated and we will surely be playing Premier League football again next year. But the problem is that I can never see us progressing further than mid table mediocrity under Curbishley.
Of course, there are many people who would point out that finishing 12th every year is no disgrace, and that we have delusions of grandeur if we are expecting anything else. After all, who are we to expect European football over similarly sized clubs such as tottenham, Everton, Villa or Newcastle?
For me, however, it is not so much the destination but the journey that matters most. I accepted long ago that we will never break into the Members Only club that is the upper echelons of English football, and that even an FA Cup run is likely to be a once in a lifetime experience. Therefore, I judge our success in terms of how entertained I feel at the end of the season. And on that front Curbishley's West Ham are little short of a disgrace.
These last three performances have actually been atypical of our form this year. We are a team designed to cling on to a lead, and have not yet lost a League game where we scored first all season. However, if we concede early as in this past week, then we are clueless. With our Plan A removed then we are reduced to defending grimly and hoping to keep it tight, whilst praying for the late set piece that might save the day. Well, if that is the future then count me out.
Supporters will point to a crippling injury list that has severely curtailed whatever plan it is that Curbishley has been working to this season, but I would say that if you buy the likes of Dyer, Bellamy and Parker then you are simply reaping what you sow.
He has been handed the largest transfer budget ever given to a West Ham manager and as far as I can tell, there is very little to show for it other than a significant increase in our medical insurance premiums. Tellingly, our most consistent players this season - Green, McCartney and Mullins - are all Pardew signings.
So my suggestion is this. Let's get to the summer, give Alan a nice send off, pay up his contract and wave him goodbye with our heartfelt thanks for saving us last year. It's harsh, of course, but then this is a harsh business. We are not here to be nice, nor to give people a chance at the expense of all else. The pattern we are seeing now was repeated ad nauseum at Charlton as his teams there faded away as soon as relegation was averted.
If we continue in this vein for the rest of the season it is quite possible that his position will be untenable in any case, as the Upton Park crowd is far less likely to accept a descent into oblivion than their counterparts at Charlton.
So there you go - my tuppence worth. I'd be interested to know just how out of touch I am with the rest of my fellow Hammers. You see, I think Freddie Ljungberg has been excellent for us this year - so how much can I really know?
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Friday, March 07, 2008
tottenham hotspur vs West Ham United: Match Preview - 09/02/2008
1. Through The Looking Glass
The benefit of having two contributors to The H List (yes, there is one. Just one, mind) is that readers can adopt two slightly different perspectives on the season thus far.
Whereas HeadHammer Shark delivers a considered approach, painting the bigger picture with his ability to keep things in perspective by drawing on experience; mine is a much more alarmist, bile-spitting slice of extremism.
I am the al-Qaeda to his Greenpeace.
2. U.O.Us
Having been left with that all too familiar feeling of deflated dejection after our last two drubbings, the prospect of a similarly comprehensive defeat away to tottenham could have us all reaching for the razor blades.
I would propose that the players owe us a victory at White Hart Lane to make up for conceding eight goals in two games. In the unlikely event they manage to pull it off, it would round off a bitter week with some sweet-tasting resolution.
Spurs also leaked four at the weekend against a Birmingham side battling against relegation. Unlike us, they did not have their full strength team out.
'Neither did we', you say? Let's face it, this is as full strength as we're ever going to be since eczema, mumps and chesty coughs ravaged our treatment room, bamboozling the druids in charge.
I would have taken four points from this trying period had you offered them to me last Saturday morning, but taking three off of Spurs is the next best thing.
3. Broken Record
Put your thinking caps on, step outside the box and hazard a guess at who came up with this little beauty:
"(a factor in our recent defeats) is also the personnel that have been available. The club is sitting tenth, there are a few other clubs that would like to be sitting there."
Am I missing something? Have we got a Kaka or a Messi waiting in the wings ready to turn our season around?
Curbishley's tired old rhetoric almost has one thinking we have some hidden creative gem ready to be unleashed, and that their hitherto absence is the sole reason we have been clutching at straws in the final third these last six months.
I'm starting to draw up a list of those I would like to see replace Curbs, just a few people who could do a more competent job with the resources available.
Thus far I've come up with Slaven Bilic, Kofi Annan on crack (he has to be on crack), Pigeon Street pet shop-owner Mr Macadoo and Helen Daniels from Neighbours - but only after her debilitating stroke.
4. The Opposition
This blog is no place for the comprehensive analysis of tottenham.
Jermaine Jenas remains overrated and looks like a lanky version of E.T that has had his elongated head compacted in a vice to form a punchable cube.
Paul Robinson has returned to goalkeeping duties having been kept out by Cerny for a few weeks. Cerny himself hasn't been seen for some time, adding to speculation that Robinson has regained his appetite for football(ers).
Robbie Keane is still yet to be tested by a sound pummeling with a bat, as was suggested in the last tottenham preview. I think Curbs is missing a trick here - simply get John Pantsil to don his invisibility cloak and the job's a good'un.
Spurs have surprisingly managed to accommodate a couple of the living dead as a centre back pairing in Jonathan Woodgate and Ledley King, both of whom are only seconds away from a career-ending injury at any moment.
Their new defensive axis has of course meant that Michael Dawson has been forced to retreat back into the mahogany woodland from whence he came, housing many a birds nest and scrubland dormouse.
5. The Grim World Of Statistics
We haven't managed to take three points from White Hart Lane since 1999. That's almost a decade. The last time we did came courtesy of strikes by Marc Keller and Ian Wright - who had by then signed up for Redknapp's Jolly Boys Pension Fund for over-the-hill former Premiership stars.
The last time we played this lot was on the back of a 5-0 win over Derby. This time round it has taken us the last nine games to accumulate as many goals prior to kick-off.
This is also Alan Curbishley's 50th game at the helm.
Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour. While this exercise is similar to going to a home fixture this year, it has the added benefit of sufficiently blurring your vision so you can convince yourself that West Ham are playing two up front.
Whilst the rivalry between the two clubs is still fierce, in the grander scheme of things this is a nothing game - two sides stranded in midtable with nothing to play for for the remainder of the domestic season.
I have no doubt that a win against The Scum would lighten my mood considerably, but that would swiftly be tempered once Curbishley reverts to his favoured 7-3-0 formation at home to Blackburn next week.
6. Artistic Accomplishment
Yesterday (6th March) was Michelangelo's birthday. By the age of 24 Michelangelo had already completed his mesmeric statue 'Pieta', depicting The Virgin Mary cradling a dying Christ which is still on show in St Peter's Basilica.
Lucas Neill is 29 and only seems capable of impersonating statues as opposition midfielders trundle past him unhindered. Now, why it may seem churlish of me to compare our captain's accomplishments to those of arguably the greatest artist of the Renaissance, I'm going to do it anyway.
I'm 28 and so have a year on Lucas. There's still time for me to either captain my country or to sculpt a modern version of Michelangelo's 'David', modeled on our defensive Goliath, Matthew Upson.
But only if he re-grows his beard. Those are my terms.
7. Yap Yap Yap...
One of the many things wrong with democracy is that tottenham fans are entitled to free speech.
Unfortunately, the filtered dregs of the human gene pool are scattered liberally across London and I'm sure that many of you, like me, are used to scraping the odd Spurs fan off your shoe at work or socially.
Just yesterday I was subject to one of them boasting about his team's "silverware" this season - I can only presume he was referring to the teapot covered in bacofoil that is the League Cup.
I was forced to respond to this mutated piece of plankton with the only response open to me: that we maintain an 8-point gap over them in the League.
This is soon likely to be five and Spurs now have a game in hand, so it could potentially be cut to just two. I'm not sure I could bare not having even the most meagre of statistics to cling to in order to shut them up should (once) they overtake our drab band of coasters.
Ah yes: we are the only domestic team in the history of football to have won the World Cup - the irrefutable H-Bomb of comebacks.
8. Stick Two Upfront, You Dozy C*nt
Our back five, the bedrock of our spectacularly unspectacular season thus far, are wavering seriously. Upson could be a doubt this week and one wonders just how bad Lucas Neill has to play in order to be dropped.
At Anfield our captain once again looked utterly bewildered at finding himself in shorts, socks and boots, standing on one of those big rectangular flat surfaces covered in green hair, with people screaming at him for letting men dressed in red saunter past.
If Upson is out this Sunday, I'd like to see Gabbidon given a run out at centre back instead of Curbishley's answer to all life's quandaries, Jonathan Spector and I'd put Spector in at right back in place of Neill.
Our American friend is often solid, if not spectacular. Another ace up his sleeve relative to Lucas is that he is more mobile than a pissed Stephen Hawking, having the pace to get back and make amends for any errors.
What we've all been screaming, screaming, screaming at Curbishley to do however, is the most basic of things: play two strikers... simultaneously.
4-5-1 at home is as toothless as Wilfred Bramble. Away from home you could conceivably make an argument for it, but in order to do so you'd need to have attacking midfielders consistently supporting the front man (which we don't) and have a front man capable of being both nimble and prodigious (which we don't).
With our back-line in it's current state, attack is surely our best form of defence.
The benefit of having two contributors to The H List (yes, there is one. Just one, mind) is that readers can adopt two slightly different perspectives on the season thus far.
Whereas HeadHammer Shark delivers a considered approach, painting the bigger picture with his ability to keep things in perspective by drawing on experience; mine is a much more alarmist, bile-spitting slice of extremism.
I am the al-Qaeda to his Greenpeace.
2. U.O.Us
Having been left with that all too familiar feeling of deflated dejection after our last two drubbings, the prospect of a similarly comprehensive defeat away to tottenham could have us all reaching for the razor blades.
I would propose that the players owe us a victory at White Hart Lane to make up for conceding eight goals in two games. In the unlikely event they manage to pull it off, it would round off a bitter week with some sweet-tasting resolution.
Spurs also leaked four at the weekend against a Birmingham side battling against relegation. Unlike us, they did not have their full strength team out.
'Neither did we', you say? Let's face it, this is as full strength as we're ever going to be since eczema, mumps and chesty coughs ravaged our treatment room, bamboozling the druids in charge.
I would have taken four points from this trying period had you offered them to me last Saturday morning, but taking three off of Spurs is the next best thing.
3. Broken Record
Put your thinking caps on, step outside the box and hazard a guess at who came up with this little beauty:
"(a factor in our recent defeats) is also the personnel that have been available. The club is sitting tenth, there are a few other clubs that would like to be sitting there."
Am I missing something? Have we got a Kaka or a Messi waiting in the wings ready to turn our season around?
Curbishley's tired old rhetoric almost has one thinking we have some hidden creative gem ready to be unleashed, and that their hitherto absence is the sole reason we have been clutching at straws in the final third these last six months.
I'm starting to draw up a list of those I would like to see replace Curbs, just a few people who could do a more competent job with the resources available.
Thus far I've come up with Slaven Bilic, Kofi Annan on crack (he has to be on crack), Pigeon Street pet shop-owner Mr Macadoo and Helen Daniels from Neighbours - but only after her debilitating stroke.
4. The Opposition
This blog is no place for the comprehensive analysis of tottenham.
Jermaine Jenas remains overrated and looks like a lanky version of E.T that has had his elongated head compacted in a vice to form a punchable cube.
Paul Robinson has returned to goalkeeping duties having been kept out by Cerny for a few weeks. Cerny himself hasn't been seen for some time, adding to speculation that Robinson has regained his appetite for football(ers).
Robbie Keane is still yet to be tested by a sound pummeling with a bat, as was suggested in the last tottenham preview. I think Curbs is missing a trick here - simply get John Pantsil to don his invisibility cloak and the job's a good'un.
Spurs have surprisingly managed to accommodate a couple of the living dead as a centre back pairing in Jonathan Woodgate and Ledley King, both of whom are only seconds away from a career-ending injury at any moment.
Their new defensive axis has of course meant that Michael Dawson has been forced to retreat back into the mahogany woodland from whence he came, housing many a birds nest and scrubland dormouse.
5. The Grim World Of Statistics
We haven't managed to take three points from White Hart Lane since 1999. That's almost a decade. The last time we did came courtesy of strikes by Marc Keller and Ian Wright - who had by then signed up for Redknapp's Jolly Boys Pension Fund for over-the-hill former Premiership stars.
The last time we played this lot was on the back of a 5-0 win over Derby. This time round it has taken us the last nine games to accumulate as many goals prior to kick-off.
This is also Alan Curbishley's 50th game at the helm.
Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour. While this exercise is similar to going to a home fixture this year, it has the added benefit of sufficiently blurring your vision so you can convince yourself that West Ham are playing two up front.
Whilst the rivalry between the two clubs is still fierce, in the grander scheme of things this is a nothing game - two sides stranded in midtable with nothing to play for for the remainder of the domestic season.
I have no doubt that a win against The Scum would lighten my mood considerably, but that would swiftly be tempered once Curbishley reverts to his favoured 7-3-0 formation at home to Blackburn next week.
6. Artistic Accomplishment
Yesterday (6th March) was Michelangelo's birthday. By the age of 24 Michelangelo had already completed his mesmeric statue 'Pieta', depicting The Virgin Mary cradling a dying Christ which is still on show in St Peter's Basilica.
Lucas Neill is 29 and only seems capable of impersonating statues as opposition midfielders trundle past him unhindered. Now, why it may seem churlish of me to compare our captain's accomplishments to those of arguably the greatest artist of the Renaissance, I'm going to do it anyway.
I'm 28 and so have a year on Lucas. There's still time for me to either captain my country or to sculpt a modern version of Michelangelo's 'David', modeled on our defensive Goliath, Matthew Upson.
But only if he re-grows his beard. Those are my terms.
7. Yap Yap Yap...
One of the many things wrong with democracy is that tottenham fans are entitled to free speech.
Unfortunately, the filtered dregs of the human gene pool are scattered liberally across London and I'm sure that many of you, like me, are used to scraping the odd Spurs fan off your shoe at work or socially.
Just yesterday I was subject to one of them boasting about his team's "silverware" this season - I can only presume he was referring to the teapot covered in bacofoil that is the League Cup.
I was forced to respond to this mutated piece of plankton with the only response open to me: that we maintain an 8-point gap over them in the League.
This is soon likely to be five and Spurs now have a game in hand, so it could potentially be cut to just two. I'm not sure I could bare not having even the most meagre of statistics to cling to in order to shut them up should (once) they overtake our drab band of coasters.
Ah yes: we are the only domestic team in the history of football to have won the World Cup - the irrefutable H-Bomb of comebacks.
8. Stick Two Upfront, You Dozy C*nt
Our back five, the bedrock of our spectacularly unspectacular season thus far, are wavering seriously. Upson could be a doubt this week and one wonders just how bad Lucas Neill has to play in order to be dropped.
At Anfield our captain once again looked utterly bewildered at finding himself in shorts, socks and boots, standing on one of those big rectangular flat surfaces covered in green hair, with people screaming at him for letting men dressed in red saunter past.
If Upson is out this Sunday, I'd like to see Gabbidon given a run out at centre back instead of Curbishley's answer to all life's quandaries, Jonathan Spector and I'd put Spector in at right back in place of Neill.
Our American friend is often solid, if not spectacular. Another ace up his sleeve relative to Lucas is that he is more mobile than a pissed Stephen Hawking, having the pace to get back and make amends for any errors.
What we've all been screaming, screaming, screaming at Curbishley to do however, is the most basic of things: play two strikers... simultaneously.
4-5-1 at home is as toothless as Wilfred Bramble. Away from home you could conceivably make an argument for it, but in order to do so you'd need to have attacking midfielders consistently supporting the front man (which we don't) and have a front man capable of being both nimble and prodigious (which we don't).
With our back-line in it's current state, attack is surely our best form of defence.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Liverpool 4 - 0 West Ham (And Other Ramblings)
Disclaimer
I'd like to think I am not without humility, but I would also like to think both of my readers visit this blog in the hope of being mildly amused by the contents. Given the events of Wednesday night I am finding it hard to mine much comedy gold from proceedings - although our defending would certainly fit the bill - and therefore would like to present you with a an alternative source of amusement.
Nope, not a Peter Crouch overhead kick, but http://www.framleyexaminer.com/.
Hey! Wait, come back!
*Note to self - post link to funnier website at the end of the article*
1. So, This Is What Pride Doesn't Feel Like
Another day, another gloriously plucky defeat. Boy doesn't it feel good to hand over your hard earned cash to follow this gunslinging, carefree, merry band of cavaliers about the country?
I am perfectly attuned to the emotions that accompany our trips to Merseyside. Brief, misplaced hope quickly followed by the crushing inevitability of our incompetent defending, and watching the rest of the game through your fingers. My own threshold for embarrassment was tested to the limit by this particular capitulation, however.
All the players and staff should be ashamed of themselves, and not just for managing the previously impossible task of making Dirk Kuyt look competent.
2. Ambition, Thy Name Is Curbishley
Everyone knows our history at Anfield. We don't win there. There is no debate around this point. In fact, at this juncture I think it might actually be club policy to play like a group of strangers and shame us all.
But here is the rub - what on earth were we expecting from this game? Our approach was Boltonian in the extreme, with the customary one man up front looking a lost, lonely soul as our midfield stood on the edge of our box many miles away.
Let's face it, we played for a draw last night and when we conceded after just 8 minutes then that was the end of that. We appear to have attempted to get back into the game using only the power of the song, which is admirable if somewhat misplaced when Liverpool decided to use the power of Fernando Torres instead.
The rest of us simply reverted to the power of Smirnoff.
3. The Statistics
God, who cares. Anytime you let in four goals (which for us is anytime we play), then statistics are really only going to back up your titular crappiness.
In case you're interested, or Fernando Torres' mother, then here are some more details. We had the ball for a spectacularly inept 39% of the time, which is absolutely appalling. We mustered 2 shots on goal all night, of which one was taken by Luis Boa Morte and therefore does not count. By contrast the home side had 20 shots, despite playing well below par, and carrying the aforementioned Kuyt up front.
We were even outcornered 16 to 3, which really just goes to show that we were there in spirit only. And to think that I didn't believe there was any conceivable way in which we could have been worse than the previous game.
4. The Opposition
Our recent fortuitous 1-0 home win over Liverpool came against the backdrop of civil unrest on Merseyside. Truthfully, I could not care less about this, although it is an interesting insight into what can happen when foreign owners cross swords with a displeased fanbase. All of that aside, the Liverpool team that played at Upton Park were the worst Reds side I had seen in 20 years of watching West Ham lose to them.
Last night hasn't really changed my mind in any way. Torres looks every inch a £23m player, and Steven Gerrard remains my favourite non Hammer in the league (Cardiff notwithstanding, the bastard), but the rest of them look like a fairly turgid collection.
There is an interesting comparison between the two clubs in the sense that both teams have abandoned the footballing principles that had traditionally been their calling card. Whilst we struggle to cope with Curbishley's safety first nonsense, Rafael Benitez is feted on Merseyside for delivering consistent Champions League success playing in a very similar fashion, albeit in a more testing environment.
The moral of the story is that irrespective of how principled we might like to be as fans, our tolerance for less entertaining football is entirely linked to the success that it brings. Clubs such as Liverpool, Chelsea and Bolton have all experienced relative prosperity playing less expansive games and yet their fans have been all too willing to put up with this if the ends justified the means. Elsewhere, the likes of Newcastle and increasingly, ourselves, have turned on the managers who have elected to play the dreadful dross, as it is bringing no more achievement than previously.
There is another element to this of course, which is that Liverpool are key players in a European system designed completely to ensure that they (and the rest of their G14 cronies) always have a significant advantage over the rest of the league. Despite having no earthly chance of winning the Premier League barring acts of God, Spiderman or Amy Winehouse, they are guaranteed a £20m windfall every year by qualifying for the Champions League as our 4th best placed club. We are not supposed to beat teams such as this because if we did it would upset the carefully constructed applecart. And by God, we're keeping our end of the bargain.
5. The Referee
Given that we didn't really do anything pesky like tackle or run, last night, then Steve Bennett didn't have to trouble himself greatly. Anfield was baying for Carlton Cole to be sent off at one point for a typically clumsy aerial challenge, but Bennett sensibly recognised our strikers innate Coleishness and just booked him, and quite possibly asked him if he was ever planning on scoring again.
6. Don't Give Him The Chants?
If you're a West Ham fan then the only worthwhile parts of the second half were the many and varied chants of displeasure aimed at Curbishley and the players.
"It's just like watching Charlton", "Boring, Boring West Ham" and "Too Fucking Negative!" all got worthy airings, as the travelling fans tired of watching us Not Attack for the 23rd consecutive game.
There are some fans unhappy at such a public airing of grievances, but given that I don't have the opportunity to pop my head round the door at Chadwell Heath and inform Alan in person that his style of football is making me want to gouge out my own eyes, then I don't have a problem with it. And if the players get wind of it then, all the better.
Everyone at the club needs to understand that if this performance is repeated on Sunday at tottenham, then bad things are going to happen. Not biblical, but possibly some loud tutting and crossing of arms, followed by some eye rolling and uttering of "Honestly", certainly some profanity and maybe even some finger pointing. You heard it here first.
7. The Life Of Luis
One half of the H List readership, my father, threatened to stop reading unless I started being a bit ruder about Luis Boa Morte. Now truthfully, it would be hard to say that he was any worse here than he usually is, or that he was any worse than our back 4, but you gotta give the fans what they want.
I shall remain eternally puzzled by the existence of Boa Morte. He is the only man I have ever seen who plays football as though he is wearing ice hockey skates smeared in butter, with the laces tied together and simultaneously blindfolded. On his best day.
It's not a personal vendetta, but I cannot for the life of me see that we gain anything from having Boa Morte on the pitch. I can't say that I was unhappy with his ability to get Lampard sent off, but even that sprang from his own clumsiness.
The fact that he is the 5th of our 5 ineffective midfielders is just the final insult. I do not want to see this man on the pitch on Sunday unless he is somehow contriving to get Dimitar Berbatov sent off.
In case you don't already know we have a kid who has scored 25 goals this year in 24 U18 and reserve games. His name is Freddie Sears, and I personally like people with the name Freddie, so I'm going to say that he is a favourite of mine despite the fact I know nothing about him.
At this point, with the season disappearing into the night like smoke, would we be too disappointed to see a promising youngster get a game over Luis Boa Morte? Actually would we be disappointed to see an unpromising youngster get a game over Boa Morte?.....
I'd like to think I am not without humility, but I would also like to think both of my readers visit this blog in the hope of being mildly amused by the contents. Given the events of Wednesday night I am finding it hard to mine much comedy gold from proceedings - although our defending would certainly fit the bill - and therefore would like to present you with a an alternative source of amusement.
Nope, not a Peter Crouch overhead kick, but http://www.framleyexaminer.com/.
Hey! Wait, come back!
*Note to self - post link to funnier website at the end of the article*
1. So, This Is What Pride Doesn't Feel Like
Another day, another gloriously plucky defeat. Boy doesn't it feel good to hand over your hard earned cash to follow this gunslinging, carefree, merry band of cavaliers about the country?
I am perfectly attuned to the emotions that accompany our trips to Merseyside. Brief, misplaced hope quickly followed by the crushing inevitability of our incompetent defending, and watching the rest of the game through your fingers. My own threshold for embarrassment was tested to the limit by this particular capitulation, however.
All the players and staff should be ashamed of themselves, and not just for managing the previously impossible task of making Dirk Kuyt look competent.
2. Ambition, Thy Name Is Curbishley
Everyone knows our history at Anfield. We don't win there. There is no debate around this point. In fact, at this juncture I think it might actually be club policy to play like a group of strangers and shame us all.
But here is the rub - what on earth were we expecting from this game? Our approach was Boltonian in the extreme, with the customary one man up front looking a lost, lonely soul as our midfield stood on the edge of our box many miles away.
Let's face it, we played for a draw last night and when we conceded after just 8 minutes then that was the end of that. We appear to have attempted to get back into the game using only the power of the song, which is admirable if somewhat misplaced when Liverpool decided to use the power of Fernando Torres instead.
The rest of us simply reverted to the power of Smirnoff.
3. The Statistics
God, who cares. Anytime you let in four goals (which for us is anytime we play), then statistics are really only going to back up your titular crappiness.
In case you're interested, or Fernando Torres' mother, then here are some more details. We had the ball for a spectacularly inept 39% of the time, which is absolutely appalling. We mustered 2 shots on goal all night, of which one was taken by Luis Boa Morte and therefore does not count. By contrast the home side had 20 shots, despite playing well below par, and carrying the aforementioned Kuyt up front.
We were even outcornered 16 to 3, which really just goes to show that we were there in spirit only. And to think that I didn't believe there was any conceivable way in which we could have been worse than the previous game.
4. The Opposition
Our recent fortuitous 1-0 home win over Liverpool came against the backdrop of civil unrest on Merseyside. Truthfully, I could not care less about this, although it is an interesting insight into what can happen when foreign owners cross swords with a displeased fanbase. All of that aside, the Liverpool team that played at Upton Park were the worst Reds side I had seen in 20 years of watching West Ham lose to them.
Last night hasn't really changed my mind in any way. Torres looks every inch a £23m player, and Steven Gerrard remains my favourite non Hammer in the league (Cardiff notwithstanding, the bastard), but the rest of them look like a fairly turgid collection.
There is an interesting comparison between the two clubs in the sense that both teams have abandoned the footballing principles that had traditionally been their calling card. Whilst we struggle to cope with Curbishley's safety first nonsense, Rafael Benitez is feted on Merseyside for delivering consistent Champions League success playing in a very similar fashion, albeit in a more testing environment.
The moral of the story is that irrespective of how principled we might like to be as fans, our tolerance for less entertaining football is entirely linked to the success that it brings. Clubs such as Liverpool, Chelsea and Bolton have all experienced relative prosperity playing less expansive games and yet their fans have been all too willing to put up with this if the ends justified the means. Elsewhere, the likes of Newcastle and increasingly, ourselves, have turned on the managers who have elected to play the dreadful dross, as it is bringing no more achievement than previously.
There is another element to this of course, which is that Liverpool are key players in a European system designed completely to ensure that they (and the rest of their G14 cronies) always have a significant advantage over the rest of the league. Despite having no earthly chance of winning the Premier League barring acts of God, Spiderman or Amy Winehouse, they are guaranteed a £20m windfall every year by qualifying for the Champions League as our 4th best placed club. We are not supposed to beat teams such as this because if we did it would upset the carefully constructed applecart. And by God, we're keeping our end of the bargain.
5. The Referee
Given that we didn't really do anything pesky like tackle or run, last night, then Steve Bennett didn't have to trouble himself greatly. Anfield was baying for Carlton Cole to be sent off at one point for a typically clumsy aerial challenge, but Bennett sensibly recognised our strikers innate Coleishness and just booked him, and quite possibly asked him if he was ever planning on scoring again.
6. Don't Give Him The Chants?
If you're a West Ham fan then the only worthwhile parts of the second half were the many and varied chants of displeasure aimed at Curbishley and the players.
"It's just like watching Charlton", "Boring, Boring West Ham" and "Too Fucking Negative!" all got worthy airings, as the travelling fans tired of watching us Not Attack for the 23rd consecutive game.
There are some fans unhappy at such a public airing of grievances, but given that I don't have the opportunity to pop my head round the door at Chadwell Heath and inform Alan in person that his style of football is making me want to gouge out my own eyes, then I don't have a problem with it. And if the players get wind of it then, all the better.
Everyone at the club needs to understand that if this performance is repeated on Sunday at tottenham, then bad things are going to happen. Not biblical, but possibly some loud tutting and crossing of arms, followed by some eye rolling and uttering of "Honestly", certainly some profanity and maybe even some finger pointing. You heard it here first.
7. The Life Of Luis
One half of the H List readership, my father, threatened to stop reading unless I started being a bit ruder about Luis Boa Morte. Now truthfully, it would be hard to say that he was any worse here than he usually is, or that he was any worse than our back 4, but you gotta give the fans what they want.
I shall remain eternally puzzled by the existence of Boa Morte. He is the only man I have ever seen who plays football as though he is wearing ice hockey skates smeared in butter, with the laces tied together and simultaneously blindfolded. On his best day.
It's not a personal vendetta, but I cannot for the life of me see that we gain anything from having Boa Morte on the pitch. I can't say that I was unhappy with his ability to get Lampard sent off, but even that sprang from his own clumsiness.
The fact that he is the 5th of our 5 ineffective midfielders is just the final insult. I do not want to see this man on the pitch on Sunday unless he is somehow contriving to get Dimitar Berbatov sent off.
In case you don't already know we have a kid who has scored 25 goals this year in 24 U18 and reserve games. His name is Freddie Sears, and I personally like people with the name Freddie, so I'm going to say that he is a favourite of mine despite the fact I know nothing about him.
At this point, with the season disappearing into the night like smoke, would we be too disappointed to see a promising youngster get a game over Luis Boa Morte? Actually would we be disappointed to see an unpromising youngster get a game over Boa Morte?.....
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
A Shameless Rant
In a break from tradition, this preview will take the form of a brief one man protest. A protest against banality, against a shuddering lack of adventure, against the absence of even the faintest prospect of incisive football.
One of the many things I have learnt from HeadHammer Shark (along with how to conceal 15 muffins about your person at any given moment), is the saying:
"All it takes for Evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing."
Replace "good" with "pitiful" and you have a fair assessment of Saturday's game.
Why should I be expected to pay £50 to watch 20 minutes of inept embarrassment followed by 70 minutes of clueless, half-hearted meandering?
I was not expecting us to win, but I was equally not expecting us to capitulate so disasterously, resembling such a bunch of clueless amateurs.
How can we allow the left-back of a team consisting of 10-men to score against us on the break?
Just where do certain players get off continually asking the fans to get behind them? Get behind what exactly? Yet another hopeless, 20 yard, easily defended, floated pass from a full-back towards the edge of the area?
Give us something, anything worth our support and you'll get it.
If Alan Curbishley says one more time how we are ravaged with injuries, at how amazingly well this group of players have done and, most infuriatingly, how "people forget that" - I swear I'm gonna swing for him.
Shut Up, Alan.
I would hate for us all to be thought of as unrealistic, as a southern version of Newcastle United with delusions of grandeur and all too short memories, but I don't think any of us are making outrageous demands.
I would happily, willingly sacrifice two or three league positions if it just meant we would have a go for the remainder of the season. If this tiresome brand of football is what it takes to soldify a top half place, I don't want one.
But therein lies the rub.
Our current brand of football is patently not good enough to get us any further than where we are at the moment. We lack the attacking adventure of any of those above us, the necessary offensive risk-taking built upon the solid defensive base we have forged this year.
It seems obvious that with such an improved defensive record, we can afford to throw caution to the wind in attack a little more than usual (pre-Curbishley usual).
Instead, Curbs seems to have opted for the strategy of not doing anything whatsoever to jeopardise our 'goals against' stats (two strikers? Forget it) and bank on perhaps, maybe, if things go our way, nicking a goal at the other end.
At the moment, there is not one remaining home fixture I can see us winning, or perhaps even scoring in - discounting Derby County, and that's only an outside chance.
I know that you were anticipating a preview of our trip to Liverpool, but I just can not bring myself to talk-up our chances on the back of Saturday's no-show. Frankly, they don't deserve my time.
I know that many of us have invested a lot in West Ham United this season and in a variety of ways, not least financially.
Currently, it feels as if our dividend is a big, fat zero.
One of the many things I have learnt from HeadHammer Shark (along with how to conceal 15 muffins about your person at any given moment), is the saying:
"All it takes for Evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing."
Replace "good" with "pitiful" and you have a fair assessment of Saturday's game.
Why should I be expected to pay £50 to watch 20 minutes of inept embarrassment followed by 70 minutes of clueless, half-hearted meandering?
I was not expecting us to win, but I was equally not expecting us to capitulate so disasterously, resembling such a bunch of clueless amateurs.
How can we allow the left-back of a team consisting of 10-men to score against us on the break?
Just where do certain players get off continually asking the fans to get behind them? Get behind what exactly? Yet another hopeless, 20 yard, easily defended, floated pass from a full-back towards the edge of the area?
Give us something, anything worth our support and you'll get it.
If Alan Curbishley says one more time how we are ravaged with injuries, at how amazingly well this group of players have done and, most infuriatingly, how "people forget that" - I swear I'm gonna swing for him.
Shut Up, Alan.
I would hate for us all to be thought of as unrealistic, as a southern version of Newcastle United with delusions of grandeur and all too short memories, but I don't think any of us are making outrageous demands.
I would happily, willingly sacrifice two or three league positions if it just meant we would have a go for the remainder of the season. If this tiresome brand of football is what it takes to soldify a top half place, I don't want one.
But therein lies the rub.
Our current brand of football is patently not good enough to get us any further than where we are at the moment. We lack the attacking adventure of any of those above us, the necessary offensive risk-taking built upon the solid defensive base we have forged this year.
It seems obvious that with such an improved defensive record, we can afford to throw caution to the wind in attack a little more than usual (pre-Curbishley usual).
Instead, Curbs seems to have opted for the strategy of not doing anything whatsoever to jeopardise our 'goals against' stats (two strikers? Forget it) and bank on perhaps, maybe, if things go our way, nicking a goal at the other end.
At the moment, there is not one remaining home fixture I can see us winning, or perhaps even scoring in - discounting Derby County, and that's only an outside chance.
I know that you were anticipating a preview of our trip to Liverpool, but I just can not bring myself to talk-up our chances on the back of Saturday's no-show. Frankly, they don't deserve my time.
I know that many of us have invested a lot in West Ham United this season and in a variety of ways, not least financially.
Currently, it feels as if our dividend is a big, fat zero.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
West Ham 0 - 4 Chelsea (And Other Ramblings)
1. Well, That Was Fun
The only thing that has been missing from this maddeningly inconsistent season has been a real hammering. You may consider that omission rectified.
It would be un-WestHamian in the extreme for us not to suffer at least one shameful defeat a season, so there was something inevitable about this whole debacle from the moment that Nicolas Anelka had a goal wrongly ruled out after just one minutes play.
Prior to this point, our biggest defeat of the season had been 3-1 against Newcastle - a result I still consider to be waaaaay more embarrassing than this - but this was an absolute shellacking. As far as robust defences go, ours today was on a par with the time King Canute sat on the beach and ordered the waves to stop rolling in.
It's nonsense like this that cost us a bloody empire.
2. Joy To Odious
Outside of the US cabinet, it is tough to imagine where one might find a more disagreeable group of people than the current Chelsea squad. It almost as though they require their players to be utter tools before they will even contemplate signing them.
Of course if you are going to have John Terry as your captain, and employ Peter Kenyon in any capacity at all, then it's really not going to be a surprise when you are despised in all four corners of the globe.
Watching Chelsea play is a curiously joyless experience. Sure, they are filled with fine players and their third goal today, by Michael Ballack, was sublime, but it is all rather functional and clinical. The joie de vivre of Arsenal or Manchester United is absent, and whilst they are undeniably good at what they do, they will never win any hearts or minds with this particular set of employees. A bit like Starbucks, I suppose.
3. The Statistics
Games like this are a perfect illustration of why statistics are only useful when framed in some sort of context. We dominated possession of this game to the tune of 58%. This is, of course, utterly pointless when all you are doing is simply passing the ball from one centre back to the other and hoping that the referee is going to end the game soon.
The visitors were far more incisive, converting their lesser possession into 7 attempts on target, versus 6 for us. Needless to say they were ever so slightly better than us at converting them.
The truly splendid statistic from this game is that we once more played 4-5-1 at home. After the previous successes against Man Utd and Liverpool I suppose that it would have been odd to abandon the formation, but there is a prevailing feeling that this particular result has been a long time coming.
There is a rumour circulating that Alan Curbishley has been quoted as saying "Except for the goals it was a fairly even game". Which is akin to the French saying "We did alright in the war except for all those pesky invasions". I can't find the quote but I sincerely hope we are setting the bar a little higher than that. You know, like maybe trying to win the fucking game occasionally.
4. The Opposition
I've touched on the content of Chelsea's squad above, but it has to be said that they gave us a sporting chance by leaving their two best players - Drogba and Essien - on the bench. They are filled to the brim with excellent players operating in a restricted, methodical but unquestionably productive system. If that sounds like damning them with faint praise then that is probably true, but it is no reflection on their dominant performance today.
The opening twenty minute salvo was as impressive a display as we have seen at Upton Park all year. Cole and Ballack scored excellent goals, and we barely threatened the opposition penalty area. If it wasn't for Lampards thoroughly entertaining red card then this game could have ended up as a ludicrous battering.
Chelsea's ability to win games is built upon their formidable defence, with Petr Cech an imposing last line, even if you are able to get past the flying elbows of Chelsea's centre halves. Elsewhere, Joe Cole was sublime, showing us exactly what could have been had we employed a professional football manager rather than Glenn Roeder, back in 2001.
It was also lovely to see Ashley Cole get the fourth goal, as that just capped off the list of quality human beings that we allowed to score against us rather nicely. Yet another Chelsea player making me proud to be English.
4a. The Opposition Captain
I am considering running for public office solely so that I may propose a law change banning anyone from favourably comparing John Terry with Bobby Moore. Sure, they both hail from Barking and they also both have legs but there endeth the similarities.
Terry is a fine Premier League defender, there is no argument about that. He is committed, good in the air, makes spectacular clearances off the line, points and shouts a lot and hasn't yet met a referee that didn't require his help in making every single decision during the game.
The problem is that being good in the air is of no use when you meet opposition teams who simply expose your lack of mobility by playing the ball around you, and your ability to clear the ball off the line is rendered moot if the reason you are having to do it is because of your own mistake to begin with.
Against teams like us, who have no ambition and no guile, then John Terry is well able to look competent. This does not make a good defender.
And the fact that he is somehow the captain of my country just highlights the Stone Age that our national football association has been operating in for the last two years.
5. The Referee
If you believe the press, and let's face it, there is no Godly reason to - then you'd think that Peter Walton had a terrible game. As it goes, I felt he only got one major decision wrong which was not punishing Claude Makelele for his gentle ankle high attempt at re-arranging Julien Faubert's bone structure.
The sending off dominated the headlines, of course, but given that he was only acting on the advice of the assistant referee then Walton really had no choice. Had Lampard not reacted so Lampardly to Boa Morte having the temerity to fall on him then there would not have been an incident to consider and of course, had the likes of Terry and Carvalho not rushed to get involved in what was only a very minor incident then there would barely have been a decision to be made at all. And by the way, it's a sad day when an opposition player getting sent off is the highlight of the game.
Elsewhere, the penalty was so clear cut that they probably should have got two.
6. Let's Be Frank
The Lampard story gained another chapter on Saturday, as he scored from a poorly struck penalty and then was sent off. In all honesty, at this point I just find the whole situation a little sad. He comes from a West Ham family, and it should be a disappointment to all West Ham fans that he had to leave the club to progress this far. It is especially galling that Chelsea turned out to be the place where his career really took off given their non existent record for developing young players of their own.
Certainly he has made several ill judged and stupid comments about the club, but then again he is a footballer and not a normal intelligent human being.
I am not saying that I didn't laugh and holler like everyone else on Saturday, particularly as the sending off looked harsh to me, but I certainly prefer the receptions that Joe Cole gets.
Of course, Lampard doesn't help himself much either. He celebrated his goal with a world record 9 badge kisses, and some aggravating fist pumps. My personal complaint is that I don't have a great deal of respect for a man who celebrates his goals by kissing his wedding ring and pointing to the sky in honour of his daughter, when he has twice been exposed by the News of the World for cheating on them.
So, Frank Lampard - world class badge kisser, fine footballer and low class man. Can't we all just get along?
7. A Little About Us
Now I think about it, maybe I should write a word or two about us. Absolutely dire.
There you go.
8. Attack! Attack! Attack!
I can't stand any more of this. I do not pay my money to watch us cling grimly on for dear life. We are sat firmly in mid table, with no chance of going down, nor of getting into Europe, so why not have a go? What's the worst that could happen - a shocking 4-0 defeat? Imagine!
Given that we are nursing Dean Ashton back from injury, shouldn't we now be starting him in games like this to try and find out exactly what level of performance he is capable of recapturing? Carlton Cole has battled manfully all year, but he cannot finish for toffee, fudge, chocolate or any other kind of dessert. With the return of Bobby Zamora, one can only hope that we can revert to something approaching an attacking formation.
Seriously, we are currently making Bolton look like the epitome of adventure.
The only thing that has been missing from this maddeningly inconsistent season has been a real hammering. You may consider that omission rectified.
It would be un-WestHamian in the extreme for us not to suffer at least one shameful defeat a season, so there was something inevitable about this whole debacle from the moment that Nicolas Anelka had a goal wrongly ruled out after just one minutes play.
Prior to this point, our biggest defeat of the season had been 3-1 against Newcastle - a result I still consider to be waaaaay more embarrassing than this - but this was an absolute shellacking. As far as robust defences go, ours today was on a par with the time King Canute sat on the beach and ordered the waves to stop rolling in.
It's nonsense like this that cost us a bloody empire.
2. Joy To Odious
Outside of the US cabinet, it is tough to imagine where one might find a more disagreeable group of people than the current Chelsea squad. It almost as though they require their players to be utter tools before they will even contemplate signing them.
Of course if you are going to have John Terry as your captain, and employ Peter Kenyon in any capacity at all, then it's really not going to be a surprise when you are despised in all four corners of the globe.
Watching Chelsea play is a curiously joyless experience. Sure, they are filled with fine players and their third goal today, by Michael Ballack, was sublime, but it is all rather functional and clinical. The joie de vivre of Arsenal or Manchester United is absent, and whilst they are undeniably good at what they do, they will never win any hearts or minds with this particular set of employees. A bit like Starbucks, I suppose.
3. The Statistics
Games like this are a perfect illustration of why statistics are only useful when framed in some sort of context. We dominated possession of this game to the tune of 58%. This is, of course, utterly pointless when all you are doing is simply passing the ball from one centre back to the other and hoping that the referee is going to end the game soon.
The visitors were far more incisive, converting their lesser possession into 7 attempts on target, versus 6 for us. Needless to say they were ever so slightly better than us at converting them.
The truly splendid statistic from this game is that we once more played 4-5-1 at home. After the previous successes against Man Utd and Liverpool I suppose that it would have been odd to abandon the formation, but there is a prevailing feeling that this particular result has been a long time coming.
There is a rumour circulating that Alan Curbishley has been quoted as saying "Except for the goals it was a fairly even game". Which is akin to the French saying "We did alright in the war except for all those pesky invasions". I can't find the quote but I sincerely hope we are setting the bar a little higher than that. You know, like maybe trying to win the fucking game occasionally.
4. The Opposition
I've touched on the content of Chelsea's squad above, but it has to be said that they gave us a sporting chance by leaving their two best players - Drogba and Essien - on the bench. They are filled to the brim with excellent players operating in a restricted, methodical but unquestionably productive system. If that sounds like damning them with faint praise then that is probably true, but it is no reflection on their dominant performance today.
The opening twenty minute salvo was as impressive a display as we have seen at Upton Park all year. Cole and Ballack scored excellent goals, and we barely threatened the opposition penalty area. If it wasn't for Lampards thoroughly entertaining red card then this game could have ended up as a ludicrous battering.
Chelsea's ability to win games is built upon their formidable defence, with Petr Cech an imposing last line, even if you are able to get past the flying elbows of Chelsea's centre halves. Elsewhere, Joe Cole was sublime, showing us exactly what could have been had we employed a professional football manager rather than Glenn Roeder, back in 2001.
It was also lovely to see Ashley Cole get the fourth goal, as that just capped off the list of quality human beings that we allowed to score against us rather nicely. Yet another Chelsea player making me proud to be English.
4a. The Opposition Captain
I am considering running for public office solely so that I may propose a law change banning anyone from favourably comparing John Terry with Bobby Moore. Sure, they both hail from Barking and they also both have legs but there endeth the similarities.
Terry is a fine Premier League defender, there is no argument about that. He is committed, good in the air, makes spectacular clearances off the line, points and shouts a lot and hasn't yet met a referee that didn't require his help in making every single decision during the game.
The problem is that being good in the air is of no use when you meet opposition teams who simply expose your lack of mobility by playing the ball around you, and your ability to clear the ball off the line is rendered moot if the reason you are having to do it is because of your own mistake to begin with.
Against teams like us, who have no ambition and no guile, then John Terry is well able to look competent. This does not make a good defender.
And the fact that he is somehow the captain of my country just highlights the Stone Age that our national football association has been operating in for the last two years.
5. The Referee
If you believe the press, and let's face it, there is no Godly reason to - then you'd think that Peter Walton had a terrible game. As it goes, I felt he only got one major decision wrong which was not punishing Claude Makelele for his gentle ankle high attempt at re-arranging Julien Faubert's bone structure.
The sending off dominated the headlines, of course, but given that he was only acting on the advice of the assistant referee then Walton really had no choice. Had Lampard not reacted so Lampardly to Boa Morte having the temerity to fall on him then there would not have been an incident to consider and of course, had the likes of Terry and Carvalho not rushed to get involved in what was only a very minor incident then there would barely have been a decision to be made at all. And by the way, it's a sad day when an opposition player getting sent off is the highlight of the game.
Elsewhere, the penalty was so clear cut that they probably should have got two.
6. Let's Be Frank
The Lampard story gained another chapter on Saturday, as he scored from a poorly struck penalty and then was sent off. In all honesty, at this point I just find the whole situation a little sad. He comes from a West Ham family, and it should be a disappointment to all West Ham fans that he had to leave the club to progress this far. It is especially galling that Chelsea turned out to be the place where his career really took off given their non existent record for developing young players of their own.
Certainly he has made several ill judged and stupid comments about the club, but then again he is a footballer and not a normal intelligent human being.
I am not saying that I didn't laugh and holler like everyone else on Saturday, particularly as the sending off looked harsh to me, but I certainly prefer the receptions that Joe Cole gets.
Of course, Lampard doesn't help himself much either. He celebrated his goal with a world record 9 badge kisses, and some aggravating fist pumps. My personal complaint is that I don't have a great deal of respect for a man who celebrates his goals by kissing his wedding ring and pointing to the sky in honour of his daughter, when he has twice been exposed by the News of the World for cheating on them.
So, Frank Lampard - world class badge kisser, fine footballer and low class man. Can't we all just get along?
7. A Little About Us
Now I think about it, maybe I should write a word or two about us. Absolutely dire.
There you go.
8. Attack! Attack! Attack!
I can't stand any more of this. I do not pay my money to watch us cling grimly on for dear life. We are sat firmly in mid table, with no chance of going down, nor of getting into Europe, so why not have a go? What's the worst that could happen - a shocking 4-0 defeat? Imagine!
Given that we are nursing Dean Ashton back from injury, shouldn't we now be starting him in games like this to try and find out exactly what level of performance he is capable of recapturing? Carlton Cole has battled manfully all year, but he cannot finish for toffee, fudge, chocolate or any other kind of dessert. With the return of Bobby Zamora, one can only hope that we can revert to something approaching an attacking formation.
Seriously, we are currently making Bolton look like the epitome of adventure.
Friday, February 29, 2008
West Ham United vs Chelsea: Match Preview - 01/03/2008
1. Lessons Learned
During my brief tenure as Preview Meister, I have learned that some H-Lists are harder to write than others and that it can be a struggle to write about teams like Derby or Fulham with any conviction. Conversely, with fixtures like Chelsea, previews write themselves.
Thanks to Frank Lampard, I am blessed with a rich bounty (and a Twix and four Snickers) of material...
2. Fever Pitch
So, here we are - awaiting the return of arguably West Ham's most reviled exile, although Judas Ince still firmly registers.
There's no doubt that Lampard has gone on to bigger, bigger and bigger things since he left (XXXXXXL fat pants, credit accounts with Krispy Kreme Donuts), but he can always rely upon us to give him a reality check should he get too big for his boots.
How he can not be too big for any boots is a wonder. They must resemble margarine-smeared oil tankers.
3. History
Last season saw us succumb to a 4-1 home defeat after Pope Tevez had banged in an impressive riposte to Shaun Wright Phillips' opener. Wright-Philips struck again almost instantly with a lovely effort (the readers choice for Best Opposition Goal of last year's The H List Awards) to knock the wind from our sails before Kalou and Drogba sealed the win for Chelsea.
We have lost to Chelsea in our last five Premier League meetings, our last victory being at home in 2003 thanks to a DiCanio strike. Joe Cole played for us that day with his namesake Carlton coming on as a substitute for the opposition.
Oddly enough, our overall record against The Blues in all competitions is perfectly balanced, having won 36, lost36 and drawn 16.
More recent events have given us cause for optimism. We were unlucky not to have come away from Stamford Bridge with anything less than a draw earlier this season after a combative performance was undone by a questionable Joe Cole winner.
This was one of those few occasions when despite the result, we all felt proud of the team for taking the game to the opposition. Only Joe Cole's offside goal and the fact that the man with the laser-guided weapons system failed to fire at Drogba took the sheen off an entertaining away day.
We have done well at home against The Big Four this year, taking six points from a possible nine and conceding only two goals in all three encounters. Chelsea always seem to be the team that we struggle to nick points off, however.
Not that they are superior to their fellow title-contenders, just that against them our players not only have to raise their game, but simultaneously bear the ceaseless threat of being basted in sweet chilli sauce by The Blues salivating Number 8.
4. Steadying The Ship
Avram Grant has proved doubters wrong by maintaining the on-pitch consistency of his predecessor - a feat even more impressive considering he spends hours every morning clearing the mountain of anthrax-filled hate mail from the doors of Toad Hall.
Spookily, his early record of results was identical to that of Mourinho's and he has managed to wipe all the tears from the Kings Road Crèche after some initial tantrums. The fact that all the players know they won't get paid anywhere near as well at any other club probably helped.
His most impressive achievement however, despite international condemnation, has been to tactfully negotiate the safe passage of those brave Japanese whalers who have delivered shipment upon uninterrupted shipment of whale blubber to Lampard's landfill of a mouth.
5. Blue Moon
Fat Frank's more recent goal celebration (when he points to the moon) is reportedly due to the name of his firstborn daughter, Luna. More considered thinking tells us this isn't the case.
The potentially devastating effect that Lampard's corpulence could have on the Earth's ocean tides is well documented. Were it not for the restoration of this delicate equilibrium between Moon and Gut via the goal celebration, the seas would rise exponentially.
This wouldn't affect Frank himself as he would constitute the sole surviving continent, but distorted fish migration patterns would affect his mid-mid-morning butty, which he enjoys between brunch and lunch, just after elevensies but prior to his midday 'butter bricks'.
6. Injuries
Last Saturday saw a few faces emerge from the blackhole of our treatment room. Nobby Solano came on for the last half an hour, skillfully slamming home the winner with his Peruvian elbow having done his utmost to kick Antti Niemi's head off.
Nobby was a second half replacement for Julien Faubert, who managed a full hour before being substituted. Dean Ashton was noticeable by his presence on the bench and it seems that nothing can shake Curbishley's belief that Boa Morte is something more than a conceptual theory, as Luis walked straight back into the starting XI.
I am in agreement with HeadHammer Shark's belief (detailed in the Birmingham review, below - just the three weeks late) that Ashton needs a little more time and support. As the old adage goes, 'form is temporary, class permanent' and Deano certainly showed us his class pre-injury.
Whether he sticks with us to the other side of this prolongued dip in form remains to be seen. I increasingly get the feeling that it won't take the biggest of clubs to come in for him in order to pry our most gifted striker away.
There are still absentees, but we may be treated to a few other familiar faces pointlessly strolling up and down the touchline in the vain hope that Curbishley will omit Boa Morte for any reason other than death.
And even then he'll probably get 15 minutes.
And put in one of his more lively performances.
Chelsea have nothing to report on the injury front, although Fat Frank has recently had to endure a spell on the sidelines due to a "thigh strain". Those in the know are fully aware that he was attacked by wolves who mistook the back of his fat neck for a packet of hotdogs.
7. You What?
Lampard has spoken out this week in protest at how today's young footballers are overpaid and underworked:
"Everything is easy. They don't have to clean boots any more, they drive BMWs, they get a very easy life. Sometimes they walk past you in the corridor and don't give you a second look."
I know. Staggering, isn't it.
I'm sorry, Frank - but have you considered that these poor lads are unable to fall at your knees in adoration as they pass you in over-sized corridors, because they are mashed up against the wall? Unbeknown to you, a couple of them are probably still imprisoned in the folds of your fat back.
Lectures on overpaid prima donnas hold little weight from someone paid £100,000 a week. Criticising people for 'earning' an inordinate amount of money is a bit rich coming from a man who spent thousands on a cereal bowl so big, it came with it's own lifeguard.
8. Steve Bruce Update
It appears that Steve Bruce's Angular Hooter (TM) is affecting his vision more than first feared. The cumulative effect of light bouncing off his panel-beaten nose at every conceivable angle has rendered his vision next to useless.
Evidence of this was given by the man himself last Saturday. After Eduardo's horrific injury at the weekend, Bruce came out with the following:
"I've seen the tackle. Some would say it's not even a yellow card."
Unbelievable.
9. The Battle For Middle Earth
Oh, how I long to hear the unbridled noise of an erupting Upton Park, not truly heard since our 2-1 win over Man United. It is a sound only surpassed by the deafening roar of sizzling livestock from Fat Frank's mobile hotplate (a coal-fired helipad to you and me).
Midfield is where this game will be won or lost. If previous encounters against the Big Four are anything to go by, Curbishley will pack the centre of the park with a 4-5-1 formation in an attempt to stifle any Chelsea creativity before it gets a chance to flourish.
Chances are this won't be a high-scoring affair as it is between the two clubs whose Premier League games have yielded the lowest numbers of goals - it is also frustrating that we will belooking for our first back-to-back victories in 21 Premier League outings.
Carlton Cole will no doubt be called upon to play the lone striker role over Dean Ashton. Cole has played this part admirably on more than one occasion this season and should be extra keen to make an impact against his former club.
At the other end, the prospect of Drogba and Anelka in tandem is downright scary and so denying them quality service is imperative.
I can see Solano and Faubert being interchangeable with one playing for the first hour, to be replaced by the other for the last 30 minutes. It would be nice to see them both on the pitch together as they are the most creative players we have by some distance, but this would perhaps undermine the solidity needed to keep any marauding Blues in check.
Mullins, Noble and Ljungberg will probably feature along with A N Other - perhaps Bowyer to chop some heads, or Etherington in an attempt to keep the opposition full-backs in check.
Chelsea are abundant in midfield talent with Wright Phillips, Joe Cole, Herr Ballack, Claude Makelele, Florent Malouda and John Obi Mikel to call upon. They also have the largest blancmange in human history to act as an impenetrable if wobbly shield infront of the back four.
While we can't match Chelsea for talent, we can get about them and ruffle a few feathers. It won't be pretty, but I think we'd all take an ugly 2-1 win and a victory for the working man against London's footballing aristocracy. Beating them for work-rate is key.
Often accused of having a poor work-rate himself, Lampard is hindered by the fact that he rocks himself to sleep whenever he tries to get up off the floor.
During my brief tenure as Preview Meister, I have learned that some H-Lists are harder to write than others and that it can be a struggle to write about teams like Derby or Fulham with any conviction. Conversely, with fixtures like Chelsea, previews write themselves.
Thanks to Frank Lampard, I am blessed with a rich bounty (and a Twix and four Snickers) of material...
2. Fever Pitch
So, here we are - awaiting the return of arguably West Ham's most reviled exile, although Judas Ince still firmly registers.
There's no doubt that Lampard has gone on to bigger, bigger and bigger things since he left (XXXXXXL fat pants, credit accounts with Krispy Kreme Donuts), but he can always rely upon us to give him a reality check should he get too big for his boots.
How he can not be too big for any boots is a wonder. They must resemble margarine-smeared oil tankers.
3. History
Last season saw us succumb to a 4-1 home defeat after Pope Tevez had banged in an impressive riposte to Shaun Wright Phillips' opener. Wright-Philips struck again almost instantly with a lovely effort (the readers choice for Best Opposition Goal of last year's The H List Awards) to knock the wind from our sails before Kalou and Drogba sealed the win for Chelsea.
We have lost to Chelsea in our last five Premier League meetings, our last victory being at home in 2003 thanks to a DiCanio strike. Joe Cole played for us that day with his namesake Carlton coming on as a substitute for the opposition.
Oddly enough, our overall record against The Blues in all competitions is perfectly balanced, having won 36, lost36 and drawn 16.
More recent events have given us cause for optimism. We were unlucky not to have come away from Stamford Bridge with anything less than a draw earlier this season after a combative performance was undone by a questionable Joe Cole winner.
This was one of those few occasions when despite the result, we all felt proud of the team for taking the game to the opposition. Only Joe Cole's offside goal and the fact that the man with the laser-guided weapons system failed to fire at Drogba took the sheen off an entertaining away day.
We have done well at home against The Big Four this year, taking six points from a possible nine and conceding only two goals in all three encounters. Chelsea always seem to be the team that we struggle to nick points off, however.
Not that they are superior to their fellow title-contenders, just that against them our players not only have to raise their game, but simultaneously bear the ceaseless threat of being basted in sweet chilli sauce by The Blues salivating Number 8.
4. Steadying The Ship
Avram Grant has proved doubters wrong by maintaining the on-pitch consistency of his predecessor - a feat even more impressive considering he spends hours every morning clearing the mountain of anthrax-filled hate mail from the doors of Toad Hall.
Spookily, his early record of results was identical to that of Mourinho's and he has managed to wipe all the tears from the Kings Road Crèche after some initial tantrums. The fact that all the players know they won't get paid anywhere near as well at any other club probably helped.
His most impressive achievement however, despite international condemnation, has been to tactfully negotiate the safe passage of those brave Japanese whalers who have delivered shipment upon uninterrupted shipment of whale blubber to Lampard's landfill of a mouth.
5. Blue Moon
Fat Frank's more recent goal celebration (when he points to the moon) is reportedly due to the name of his firstborn daughter, Luna. More considered thinking tells us this isn't the case.
The potentially devastating effect that Lampard's corpulence could have on the Earth's ocean tides is well documented. Were it not for the restoration of this delicate equilibrium between Moon and Gut via the goal celebration, the seas would rise exponentially.
This wouldn't affect Frank himself as he would constitute the sole surviving continent, but distorted fish migration patterns would affect his mid-mid-morning butty, which he enjoys between brunch and lunch, just after elevensies but prior to his midday 'butter bricks'.
6. Injuries
Last Saturday saw a few faces emerge from the blackhole of our treatment room. Nobby Solano came on for the last half an hour, skillfully slamming home the winner with his Peruvian elbow having done his utmost to kick Antti Niemi's head off.
Nobby was a second half replacement for Julien Faubert, who managed a full hour before being substituted. Dean Ashton was noticeable by his presence on the bench and it seems that nothing can shake Curbishley's belief that Boa Morte is something more than a conceptual theory, as Luis walked straight back into the starting XI.
I am in agreement with HeadHammer Shark's belief (detailed in the Birmingham review, below - just the three weeks late) that Ashton needs a little more time and support. As the old adage goes, 'form is temporary, class permanent' and Deano certainly showed us his class pre-injury.
Whether he sticks with us to the other side of this prolongued dip in form remains to be seen. I increasingly get the feeling that it won't take the biggest of clubs to come in for him in order to pry our most gifted striker away.
There are still absentees, but we may be treated to a few other familiar faces pointlessly strolling up and down the touchline in the vain hope that Curbishley will omit Boa Morte for any reason other than death.
And even then he'll probably get 15 minutes.
And put in one of his more lively performances.
Chelsea have nothing to report on the injury front, although Fat Frank has recently had to endure a spell on the sidelines due to a "thigh strain". Those in the know are fully aware that he was attacked by wolves who mistook the back of his fat neck for a packet of hotdogs.
7. You What?
Lampard has spoken out this week in protest at how today's young footballers are overpaid and underworked:
"Everything is easy. They don't have to clean boots any more, they drive BMWs, they get a very easy life. Sometimes they walk past you in the corridor and don't give you a second look."
I know. Staggering, isn't it.
I'm sorry, Frank - but have you considered that these poor lads are unable to fall at your knees in adoration as they pass you in over-sized corridors, because they are mashed up against the wall? Unbeknown to you, a couple of them are probably still imprisoned in the folds of your fat back.
Lectures on overpaid prima donnas hold little weight from someone paid £100,000 a week. Criticising people for 'earning' an inordinate amount of money is a bit rich coming from a man who spent thousands on a cereal bowl so big, it came with it's own lifeguard.
8. Steve Bruce Update
It appears that Steve Bruce's Angular Hooter (TM) is affecting his vision more than first feared. The cumulative effect of light bouncing off his panel-beaten nose at every conceivable angle has rendered his vision next to useless.
Evidence of this was given by the man himself last Saturday. After Eduardo's horrific injury at the weekend, Bruce came out with the following:
"I've seen the tackle. Some would say it's not even a yellow card."
Unbelievable.
9. The Battle For Middle Earth
Oh, how I long to hear the unbridled noise of an erupting Upton Park, not truly heard since our 2-1 win over Man United. It is a sound only surpassed by the deafening roar of sizzling livestock from Fat Frank's mobile hotplate (a coal-fired helipad to you and me).
Midfield is where this game will be won or lost. If previous encounters against the Big Four are anything to go by, Curbishley will pack the centre of the park with a 4-5-1 formation in an attempt to stifle any Chelsea creativity before it gets a chance to flourish.
Chances are this won't be a high-scoring affair as it is between the two clubs whose Premier League games have yielded the lowest numbers of goals - it is also frustrating that we will belooking for our first back-to-back victories in 21 Premier League outings.
Carlton Cole will no doubt be called upon to play the lone striker role over Dean Ashton. Cole has played this part admirably on more than one occasion this season and should be extra keen to make an impact against his former club.
At the other end, the prospect of Drogba and Anelka in tandem is downright scary and so denying them quality service is imperative.
I can see Solano and Faubert being interchangeable with one playing for the first hour, to be replaced by the other for the last 30 minutes. It would be nice to see them both on the pitch together as they are the most creative players we have by some distance, but this would perhaps undermine the solidity needed to keep any marauding Blues in check.
Mullins, Noble and Ljungberg will probably feature along with A N Other - perhaps Bowyer to chop some heads, or Etherington in an attempt to keep the opposition full-backs in check.
Chelsea are abundant in midfield talent with Wright Phillips, Joe Cole, Herr Ballack, Claude Makelele, Florent Malouda and John Obi Mikel to call upon. They also have the largest blancmange in human history to act as an impenetrable if wobbly shield infront of the back four.
While we can't match Chelsea for talent, we can get about them and ruffle a few feathers. It won't be pretty, but I think we'd all take an ugly 2-1 win and a victory for the working man against London's footballing aristocracy. Beating them for work-rate is key.
Often accused of having a poor work-rate himself, Lampard is hindered by the fact that he rocks himself to sleep whenever he tries to get up off the floor.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Fulham 0 - 1 West Ham (And Other Ramblings)
1. An Admission - This Article Is Brought To You Via The Magic Of Football First
Before I begin this column, there is a truth that must come out. I did not go to this game, and instead followed events via TalkSPORT, an experience which is not dissimilar to listening to a pair of schizophrenics on acid.
I digress. You see, if I have to pay £45 to watch Clint Dempsey try and play football, then I'm expecting a few sweeteners in the deal, like maybe some lapdances, or a new Toyota Hilux or free private education for both my daughters.
2. Three Chords And The Truth
Let's be up front about this. No summary of this game can begin anywhere other than in the 87th minute, primarily as this was the first time that anyone did anything interesting. The incident in question saw Nolberto Solano burst through on to a "through ball" from Luis Boa Morte (more on that later), clatter Antti Niemi in the neck and elbow the loose ball in to the net, albeit accidentally.
Now, no sensible observer could claim that it was a fair goal, so naturally the Match of the Day analysts saw no problem with it. This is utter nonsense. If that goal had been given against West Ham I'd have been lobbying my MP for an Early Day Motion. There have been lots of ridiculous statements in the press along the lines of "These things happen when you're down the bottom" as though that is somehow justification for obscenely bad officiating.
Of course, I wouldn't want anyone thinking that I actually give a monkey's about Fulham but it would be farcical to try and claim that this was anything other than a robbery.
3. The Statistics
There are a curious set of numbers for this game. Fulham had no less than 14 (!) shots on target, despite the fact that they did not muster a worthwhile chance until the 85th minute. It must be pointed out that there is something to be said for ignoring statistics occasionally, on account of how they only reveal the uselessness of statistics.
We had the ball for a hefty 57% of the time, which we translated into 6 shots on target, half of which were from Carlton Cole and thus went straight at Niemi. These seem like odd figures to me, because a superficial evaluation would lead you to think that the home side were the better team, when in fact they were almost seminally appalling.
All of the above doesn't discount the fact that there can't be any argument that this game was 100% tedious.
4. The Opposition
Ah, Fulham. Mohammed Al Fayed's marvellous marriage of affluence and effluent. Never has so much been spent on so little. It's not Roy Hodgson's fault of course, given that Lawrie Sanchez took £20m in the summer and blew it (and boy did he blow it) on the entire Northern Ireland team.
Apart from the inestimable Jimmy Bullard it's hard to pick a player from this team who is anything other than an average Premier Leaguer at best. It is fairly telling that Brian McBride remains their only potent attacking threat, despite being as mobile as Ayers Rock, whilst Diomansy Kamara is the best non goalscoring, non passing, no vision Senegalese striker in the League this side of El Hadji Diouf.
They will grace the Championship. And soon.
5. The Referee
Quite apart from missing Nolberto Solano's neck high tackle on Niemi, Howard Webb had a questionable game. He did well enough in patches until eventually succumbing and awarding Fulham some fairly ludicrous free kicks, purely because the home fans were feeling somewhat displeased with life at the time. If you are being intimidated into making incorrect decisions by Fulham fans then I'm thinking "career change" should be high on your list of priorities.
He also sent off Leon Adreason for some late dissent which was probably fair enough on both sides, and he didn't send off Paul Stalteri despite him scoring that winner for tottenham last year, which would have been spectacularly unfair but would have made me very happy.
The strange decision to allow Solano's goal was a mistake and a bad one, but somewhat understandable considering the participants. Niemi is hardly the second coming of Bert Trautmann, whilst our bruising Peruvian winger isn't exactly Tommy Lawton reincarnated. Truth be told, Solano showed greater desire and Niemi should have been tougher. These things happen and if Fulham feel that aggrieved about it they could always score a goal or two themselves.
6. Alright, Then
Apparently as a child, Clint Dempsey based his game on that of Diego Maradona.
{I am speechless. You'll have to insert your own joke here}
7. Cole Patrol
Our erstwhile frontman continues to have an oximoronic season for the ages. His approach play remains excellent, or at least better than anyone else we currently have, but his composure in front of goal tends to rival that of a Daily Mail reader at an Immigration conference. Three times he had great chances on Saturday and each occasion saw Niemi barely tested.
I am not as down on Cole as the rest of the Universe. I think he is a willing trier, unlike Ashton who is several spare tyres, and I actually think is more skilful than he is given credit for. Of course, he is not given any credit at all by most Hammers fans so that isn't hard.
I could certainly live with him scoring a few more goals, or indeed not pausing when clean through on goal to complete a devilishly tricky Sudoku puzzle, thus allowing Paul Konchesky to run 70 metres and block his eventual shot. But then I am a hard taskmaster.
8. It Goes Ashton And On And On
As Cole's star rises, so does Dean Ashton's wane. He is now a clear second choice to Cole, and no amount of blonde hair dye can disguise that balding pate either. Inside of Dean Ashton lurks a splendid centre forward, along with several plates of biscuits judging from the size of him, and it is the most frustrating element of our season that we have yet to see him emerge.
I retain hope that he can recapture the lost magic, but there is a feeling that persists that he cannot work with Curbishley. The latters infatuation with 4-5-1 will never suit the immobile Ashton, and a pairing with Cole doesn't seem like the answer. Truthfully his progression probably relies upon the safe return of Craig Bellamy, which doesn't augur well considering the Welshman was last seen hobbling off to hospital yelling "The knee bone is not connected to the scapula, you fool!" at our physio.
9. The Luis Boa Morte Experiment
Boa Morte returned to the lineup again, proving that Matthew Etherington must be clinically dead, and quite possibly that the Portugese is holding Alan Curbishley's family somewhere.
To be fair to him, no one could ever question Boa Morte's effort. He spends most of the game chasing after lost causes, usually as a direct result of his concrete boots and abysmal first touch. One such instance occurred in the build up to our goal, when he chested down Lucas Neill's cross so deftly that it bounced a full 15 yards away, equidistant between Solano and Niemi and extremely distant from Boa Morte.
Of course, I could write an entire article making smart remarks about Luis Boa Morte but I shall not. He does his best, and given the Big Time Charlies who derailed our season last year, it is perhaps not the worst thing in the world to have some more limited but committed types.
10. Highlights
I am not sure if I have been clear enough about the truly dismal fare that was served up on Saturday. It was somewhat unfortunate that with this being the anniversary of Bobby Moore's death, two of his former teams produced a game so awful that it would have kept him rapidly revolving in his grave for the whole 90 minutes.
Doubtless you are therefore eager to get the highlights. Here they are - just ignore the Japanese analysis for the first few seconds - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aj7f3B1VCYM. Enjoy... (thanks to my friend Daryn for the link)....
Before I begin this column, there is a truth that must come out. I did not go to this game, and instead followed events via TalkSPORT, an experience which is not dissimilar to listening to a pair of schizophrenics on acid.
I digress. You see, if I have to pay £45 to watch Clint Dempsey try and play football, then I'm expecting a few sweeteners in the deal, like maybe some lapdances, or a new Toyota Hilux or free private education for both my daughters.
2. Three Chords And The Truth
Let's be up front about this. No summary of this game can begin anywhere other than in the 87th minute, primarily as this was the first time that anyone did anything interesting. The incident in question saw Nolberto Solano burst through on to a "through ball" from Luis Boa Morte (more on that later), clatter Antti Niemi in the neck and elbow the loose ball in to the net, albeit accidentally.
Now, no sensible observer could claim that it was a fair goal, so naturally the Match of the Day analysts saw no problem with it. This is utter nonsense. If that goal had been given against West Ham I'd have been lobbying my MP for an Early Day Motion. There have been lots of ridiculous statements in the press along the lines of "These things happen when you're down the bottom" as though that is somehow justification for obscenely bad officiating.
Of course, I wouldn't want anyone thinking that I actually give a monkey's about Fulham but it would be farcical to try and claim that this was anything other than a robbery.
3. The Statistics
There are a curious set of numbers for this game. Fulham had no less than 14 (!) shots on target, despite the fact that they did not muster a worthwhile chance until the 85th minute. It must be pointed out that there is something to be said for ignoring statistics occasionally, on account of how they only reveal the uselessness of statistics.
We had the ball for a hefty 57% of the time, which we translated into 6 shots on target, half of which were from Carlton Cole and thus went straight at Niemi. These seem like odd figures to me, because a superficial evaluation would lead you to think that the home side were the better team, when in fact they were almost seminally appalling.
All of the above doesn't discount the fact that there can't be any argument that this game was 100% tedious.
4. The Opposition
Ah, Fulham. Mohammed Al Fayed's marvellous marriage of affluence and effluent. Never has so much been spent on so little. It's not Roy Hodgson's fault of course, given that Lawrie Sanchez took £20m in the summer and blew it (and boy did he blow it) on the entire Northern Ireland team.
Apart from the inestimable Jimmy Bullard it's hard to pick a player from this team who is anything other than an average Premier Leaguer at best. It is fairly telling that Brian McBride remains their only potent attacking threat, despite being as mobile as Ayers Rock, whilst Diomansy Kamara is the best non goalscoring, non passing, no vision Senegalese striker in the League this side of El Hadji Diouf.
They will grace the Championship. And soon.
5. The Referee
Quite apart from missing Nolberto Solano's neck high tackle on Niemi, Howard Webb had a questionable game. He did well enough in patches until eventually succumbing and awarding Fulham some fairly ludicrous free kicks, purely because the home fans were feeling somewhat displeased with life at the time. If you are being intimidated into making incorrect decisions by Fulham fans then I'm thinking "career change" should be high on your list of priorities.
He also sent off Leon Adreason for some late dissent which was probably fair enough on both sides, and he didn't send off Paul Stalteri despite him scoring that winner for tottenham last year, which would have been spectacularly unfair but would have made me very happy.
The strange decision to allow Solano's goal was a mistake and a bad one, but somewhat understandable considering the participants. Niemi is hardly the second coming of Bert Trautmann, whilst our bruising Peruvian winger isn't exactly Tommy Lawton reincarnated. Truth be told, Solano showed greater desire and Niemi should have been tougher. These things happen and if Fulham feel that aggrieved about it they could always score a goal or two themselves.
6. Alright, Then
Apparently as a child, Clint Dempsey based his game on that of Diego Maradona.
{I am speechless. You'll have to insert your own joke here}
7. Cole Patrol
Our erstwhile frontman continues to have an oximoronic season for the ages. His approach play remains excellent, or at least better than anyone else we currently have, but his composure in front of goal tends to rival that of a Daily Mail reader at an Immigration conference. Three times he had great chances on Saturday and each occasion saw Niemi barely tested.
I am not as down on Cole as the rest of the Universe. I think he is a willing trier, unlike Ashton who is several spare tyres, and I actually think is more skilful than he is given credit for. Of course, he is not given any credit at all by most Hammers fans so that isn't hard.
I could certainly live with him scoring a few more goals, or indeed not pausing when clean through on goal to complete a devilishly tricky Sudoku puzzle, thus allowing Paul Konchesky to run 70 metres and block his eventual shot. But then I am a hard taskmaster.
8. It Goes Ashton And On And On
As Cole's star rises, so does Dean Ashton's wane. He is now a clear second choice to Cole, and no amount of blonde hair dye can disguise that balding pate either. Inside of Dean Ashton lurks a splendid centre forward, along with several plates of biscuits judging from the size of him, and it is the most frustrating element of our season that we have yet to see him emerge.
I retain hope that he can recapture the lost magic, but there is a feeling that persists that he cannot work with Curbishley. The latters infatuation with 4-5-1 will never suit the immobile Ashton, and a pairing with Cole doesn't seem like the answer. Truthfully his progression probably relies upon the safe return of Craig Bellamy, which doesn't augur well considering the Welshman was last seen hobbling off to hospital yelling "The knee bone is not connected to the scapula, you fool!" at our physio.
9. The Luis Boa Morte Experiment
Boa Morte returned to the lineup again, proving that Matthew Etherington must be clinically dead, and quite possibly that the Portugese is holding Alan Curbishley's family somewhere.
To be fair to him, no one could ever question Boa Morte's effort. He spends most of the game chasing after lost causes, usually as a direct result of his concrete boots and abysmal first touch. One such instance occurred in the build up to our goal, when he chested down Lucas Neill's cross so deftly that it bounced a full 15 yards away, equidistant between Solano and Niemi and extremely distant from Boa Morte.
Of course, I could write an entire article making smart remarks about Luis Boa Morte but I shall not. He does his best, and given the Big Time Charlies who derailed our season last year, it is perhaps not the worst thing in the world to have some more limited but committed types.
10. Highlights
I am not sure if I have been clear enough about the truly dismal fare that was served up on Saturday. It was somewhat unfortunate that with this being the anniversary of Bobby Moore's death, two of his former teams produced a game so awful that it would have kept him rapidly revolving in his grave for the whole 90 minutes.
Doubtless you are therefore eager to get the highlights. Here they are - just ignore the Japanese analysis for the first few seconds - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aj7f3B1VCYM. Enjoy... (thanks to my friend Daryn for the link)....
Friday, February 22, 2008
Fulham vs West Ham United: Match Preview - 23/02/2008
1. The Magnificent Dozen (Less One)
If there is any justice in this world (which there isn't - the enduring popularity of The Brit Awards is testimony to that), I would be declared Supreme Ruler Of The Boleyn Ground. My first act as your new leader would be to ensure a mandatory uniform be necessary to gain entry to Upton Park.
And it would be thus:
www.tshirts365.com/sportshop/productpage/1,17576,7582_10059_1654842,00.html?productid=276063&aff=105
2. Wome Wasn't Built In A Day
When Woy Hodgson took over at Fulham, I for one was quite surpwised at the selection and thought it an inspired choice.
He is one of the few Englishmen who have genuine managewial cwedentials wanging fwom top level Euwopean football with Inter Milan to major internationals, having lead Switzerland to World Cup USA '94 - a tournament for which England failed to qualify.
However, it seems as though Woy has inhewited a stacked deck at Cwaven Cottage and will need a couple of years or more to establish Fulham as a solid Pwemiership outfit.
Should he fail, he faces having his Hawwods store card wevoked and be the latest addition to the ever-gwoing list of people accused of conspiwing to murder Dodi Fayed.
3. The History
Last season's corresponding fixture ended in a 0-0 draw, but our record at Craven Cottage is very good. We remain unbeaten there in the Premiership and have claimed 10 out of a possible 12 points since 2002. In fact, we haven't lost away to Fulham since the 1974/'75 season.
While historically things look good, the same old problems persist. Our matches this year have produced fewer goals than any other club in the league - surely a consequence of Curbishley's stifled style of play.
We do possess the fourth best defensive away record, but our lack of bite upfront would explain why we have won just one of our last five games - and that came courtesy of an injury time penalty.
One ray of hope is that our good defensive away record is in stark contrast to Fulham's home one. Derby aside, they have conceded more goals at home than anyone other team this season.
This game marks the end of an 'easy' period which should have seen us make some ground on those above. Our next four fixtures are Chelsea (h), Liverpool (a), The Scum (a) and Blackburn (h) - although knowing us, we'll pick up twelve points there.
Of course we won't.
4. Captain Marvel
It is fitting that Sunday sees the 15th anniversary of the death of Bobby Moore, a day after the two clubs he played for go head-to-head.
While his three seasons at Fulham are a mere footnote to his career after sixteen glorious years at Upton Park, Moore is still fondly remembered at Craven Cottage and demanded the respect of football fans the world over.
Lucas Neill has spoken this week of how he still gets a "tingle" when he thinks of his name on a list that boasts England's only World Cup-winning captain, but that's obviously where any comparisons end. Matty Upson has also spoken of his pride at wearing the famous West Ham Number 6 shirt.
Neill has confessed that earlier in the season he was guilty of trying too hard to be a captain as opposed to just a good player and leading by example, but he's shown no signs of turning that corner just yet.
Bobby Moore, widely regarded as the greatest defender to have ever played the game, should rightly be remembered at this weekend's match. In retirement he was criminally overlooked in comparison to the likes of Bobby Charlton and Geoff Hurst.
West Ham aside, it is only the recent Goliath of a statue outside the new Wembley Stadium that bares fitting tribute to the embodiment of what a footballer should be.
Oh to have him on the teamsheet now.
5. Hail To The Thief
Firstly, Mohammed Al Fayed is a famously litigious man and so I salute him in all his endeavours, all of which are cracking good value. However, as a bogus pseudo-journalist of sorts, I am forced to speak of a story brought to my attention recently by a blaspheming unbeliever.
Not so long ago there was an 'exclusive' promotion in Harrods whereby discerning customers could treat themselves to a single glass of Dom Perignon 1975 for a measly £250. For one glass. That's £250 for one glass.
Of course, the promotion came with all the usual corporate spiel, but it was plain to see this for what it was (said the soon-to-be-penniless dissenter) - a scam akin to paying £7 million for Seth Johnson.
As outrageous as this seemed, the offer should have come as no surprise from a man who charges a whopping £45 for a bog-standard ticket to see what is essentially a glorified Championship team. Apparently, some chimney-sweeps have turned their noses up at the fee.
They know not the value of 90-minutes in the company of a man happy to close one of the largest and most popular shops in the Western world in order to pander to a bleach-skinned pop star turned paedo.
6. He We Are Now, Entertain Us
When I'm not acclaiming the wonders of the world's finest department store or denouncing that Nazi, the Duke Of Edinburgh, I enjoy a good read, an innovative tune or a slice of cinematic splendour.
On those rarest of occasions - with the planets in necessary alignment, ITV broadcasting anything worth watching bar football - I am also partial to the increasingly rare sight of an entertaining home fixture at Upton Park.
Not necessarily a win, just some entertainment.
A few short years ago, this wasn't such a far-fetched concept. This season however, you can count the number of exciting home games on the fingers of a man who juggles live grenades for a living. Some performances have been so dour, it's surprising suicide rates among Hammers fans haven't matched those of Bridgend teenagers.
Come on, lads - how about a bit of caution-to-the-wind football? Our Premiership status is assured and Europe is a pipedream - why not some kamikaze, Keegan-esque football for the last few games to cheer the home support?
For formation ideas, I refer you to the soon-to-be mandatory home uniform detailed above.
7. Tom, Dick And Lucas
During my youth, I misspent my time in a variety of ways. Very occasionally I was not protesting outside the Home Office at their excessively stringent Visa requirements for the many down-trodden Egyptian billionaire migrants in the UK.
During the quiet times, I was force-fed many classic films from the 1960's - one of which was the POW tale, 'The Great Escape'.
When it's not being desecrated by the tiresome England Supporters band, this film surely ranks among the greats. One scene in particular has popped into my mind more than once when watching our captain this year.
Sir Dickie Attenborough and his right-hand man Gordon Jackson have done all the hard work in preparing their men for escape and the perils of fleeing through enemy territory. Everything was taken care of, right down to those sneaky Nazis and their ingenious language trip-up techniques.
Things are going swimmingly as Dickie and Gordon, posing as Frenchmen, board a bus for neutral Switzerland, only to come a cropper when Jackson replies in English to a Nazi gesture of "Good luck".
Consider the following fictitious post-match interview with Herr Neill:
"Another tedious goalless draw here at Upton Park, Lucas."
"Cheers, mate."
"Yet more staggering positional play and desperate strong-arm tactics from yourself."
"Thanks, mate."
"Still, you must be chuffed at having fooled your paymasters that you are a professional right-back?"
"Sure am, mate."
*Cue stricken look of panic as Lucas realises the game is up*
Well, Lucas - the game has been up for some time now. What on earth has happened to our roguish, more-than-competent defender of last season??
8. Injury List... Blah Blah Blah
Craig Bellamy is out for six weeks and may well have to be put down. Curbishley has decided that Bobby Zamora and Julien Faubert will need at least another 45 reserve team games before he risks releasing them from their bubblewrap cocoons.
Curbs has been gracious enough to allow Scott Parker back into full training as of Monday and said that he may even get a game or two before retirement. Meanwhile, rumours abound that we will bid for Eidur Gudjohnsen in the summer - just so that our over-cautious manager can saw his legs off and imprison him in our Hotel California of a treatment room.
I'm getting sick and tired of hearing Curbishley say this player is 'still a few weeks away' and that player has 'only had half an hour in the reserves'. His record as manager thus far is the epitome of average - won 18, lost 18, drawn 10.
At least when we were scrapping around the lower end of the league, one might feel a jolt of adrenaline now and then.
If there is any justice in this world (which there isn't - the enduring popularity of The Brit Awards is testimony to that), I would be declared Supreme Ruler Of The Boleyn Ground. My first act as your new leader would be to ensure a mandatory uniform be necessary to gain entry to Upton Park.
And it would be thus:
www.tshirts365.com/sportshop/productpage/1,17576,7582_10059_1654842,00.html?productid=276063&aff=105
2. Wome Wasn't Built In A Day
When Woy Hodgson took over at Fulham, I for one was quite surpwised at the selection and thought it an inspired choice.
He is one of the few Englishmen who have genuine managewial cwedentials wanging fwom top level Euwopean football with Inter Milan to major internationals, having lead Switzerland to World Cup USA '94 - a tournament for which England failed to qualify.
However, it seems as though Woy has inhewited a stacked deck at Cwaven Cottage and will need a couple of years or more to establish Fulham as a solid Pwemiership outfit.
Should he fail, he faces having his Hawwods store card wevoked and be the latest addition to the ever-gwoing list of people accused of conspiwing to murder Dodi Fayed.
3. The History
Last season's corresponding fixture ended in a 0-0 draw, but our record at Craven Cottage is very good. We remain unbeaten there in the Premiership and have claimed 10 out of a possible 12 points since 2002. In fact, we haven't lost away to Fulham since the 1974/'75 season.
While historically things look good, the same old problems persist. Our matches this year have produced fewer goals than any other club in the league - surely a consequence of Curbishley's stifled style of play.
We do possess the fourth best defensive away record, but our lack of bite upfront would explain why we have won just one of our last five games - and that came courtesy of an injury time penalty.
One ray of hope is that our good defensive away record is in stark contrast to Fulham's home one. Derby aside, they have conceded more goals at home than anyone other team this season.
This game marks the end of an 'easy' period which should have seen us make some ground on those above. Our next four fixtures are Chelsea (h), Liverpool (a), The Scum (a) and Blackburn (h) - although knowing us, we'll pick up twelve points there.
Of course we won't.
4. Captain Marvel
It is fitting that Sunday sees the 15th anniversary of the death of Bobby Moore, a day after the two clubs he played for go head-to-head.
While his three seasons at Fulham are a mere footnote to his career after sixteen glorious years at Upton Park, Moore is still fondly remembered at Craven Cottage and demanded the respect of football fans the world over.
Lucas Neill has spoken this week of how he still gets a "tingle" when he thinks of his name on a list that boasts England's only World Cup-winning captain, but that's obviously where any comparisons end. Matty Upson has also spoken of his pride at wearing the famous West Ham Number 6 shirt.
Neill has confessed that earlier in the season he was guilty of trying too hard to be a captain as opposed to just a good player and leading by example, but he's shown no signs of turning that corner just yet.
Bobby Moore, widely regarded as the greatest defender to have ever played the game, should rightly be remembered at this weekend's match. In retirement he was criminally overlooked in comparison to the likes of Bobby Charlton and Geoff Hurst.
West Ham aside, it is only the recent Goliath of a statue outside the new Wembley Stadium that bares fitting tribute to the embodiment of what a footballer should be.
Oh to have him on the teamsheet now.
5. Hail To The Thief
Firstly, Mohammed Al Fayed is a famously litigious man and so I salute him in all his endeavours, all of which are cracking good value. However, as a bogus pseudo-journalist of sorts, I am forced to speak of a story brought to my attention recently by a blaspheming unbeliever.
Not so long ago there was an 'exclusive' promotion in Harrods whereby discerning customers could treat themselves to a single glass of Dom Perignon 1975 for a measly £250. For one glass. That's £250 for one glass.
Of course, the promotion came with all the usual corporate spiel, but it was plain to see this for what it was (said the soon-to-be-penniless dissenter) - a scam akin to paying £7 million for Seth Johnson.
As outrageous as this seemed, the offer should have come as no surprise from a man who charges a whopping £45 for a bog-standard ticket to see what is essentially a glorified Championship team. Apparently, some chimney-sweeps have turned their noses up at the fee.
They know not the value of 90-minutes in the company of a man happy to close one of the largest and most popular shops in the Western world in order to pander to a bleach-skinned pop star turned paedo.
6. He We Are Now, Entertain Us
When I'm not acclaiming the wonders of the world's finest department store or denouncing that Nazi, the Duke Of Edinburgh, I enjoy a good read, an innovative tune or a slice of cinematic splendour.
On those rarest of occasions - with the planets in necessary alignment, ITV broadcasting anything worth watching bar football - I am also partial to the increasingly rare sight of an entertaining home fixture at Upton Park.
Not necessarily a win, just some entertainment.
A few short years ago, this wasn't such a far-fetched concept. This season however, you can count the number of exciting home games on the fingers of a man who juggles live grenades for a living. Some performances have been so dour, it's surprising suicide rates among Hammers fans haven't matched those of Bridgend teenagers.
Come on, lads - how about a bit of caution-to-the-wind football? Our Premiership status is assured and Europe is a pipedream - why not some kamikaze, Keegan-esque football for the last few games to cheer the home support?
For formation ideas, I refer you to the soon-to-be mandatory home uniform detailed above.
7. Tom, Dick And Lucas
During my youth, I misspent my time in a variety of ways. Very occasionally I was not protesting outside the Home Office at their excessively stringent Visa requirements for the many down-trodden Egyptian billionaire migrants in the UK.
During the quiet times, I was force-fed many classic films from the 1960's - one of which was the POW tale, 'The Great Escape'.
When it's not being desecrated by the tiresome England Supporters band, this film surely ranks among the greats. One scene in particular has popped into my mind more than once when watching our captain this year.
Sir Dickie Attenborough and his right-hand man Gordon Jackson have done all the hard work in preparing their men for escape and the perils of fleeing through enemy territory. Everything was taken care of, right down to those sneaky Nazis and their ingenious language trip-up techniques.
Things are going swimmingly as Dickie and Gordon, posing as Frenchmen, board a bus for neutral Switzerland, only to come a cropper when Jackson replies in English to a Nazi gesture of "Good luck".
Consider the following fictitious post-match interview with Herr Neill:
"Another tedious goalless draw here at Upton Park, Lucas."
"Cheers, mate."
"Yet more staggering positional play and desperate strong-arm tactics from yourself."
"Thanks, mate."
"Still, you must be chuffed at having fooled your paymasters that you are a professional right-back?"
"Sure am, mate."
*Cue stricken look of panic as Lucas realises the game is up*
Well, Lucas - the game has been up for some time now. What on earth has happened to our roguish, more-than-competent defender of last season??
8. Injury List... Blah Blah Blah
Craig Bellamy is out for six weeks and may well have to be put down. Curbishley has decided that Bobby Zamora and Julien Faubert will need at least another 45 reserve team games before he risks releasing them from their bubblewrap cocoons.
Curbs has been gracious enough to allow Scott Parker back into full training as of Monday and said that he may even get a game or two before retirement. Meanwhile, rumours abound that we will bid for Eidur Gudjohnsen in the summer - just so that our over-cautious manager can saw his legs off and imprison him in our Hotel California of a treatment room.
I'm getting sick and tired of hearing Curbishley say this player is 'still a few weeks away' and that player has 'only had half an hour in the reserves'. His record as manager thus far is the epitome of average - won 18, lost 18, drawn 10.
At least when we were scrapping around the lower end of the league, one might feel a jolt of adrenaline now and then.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
West Ham 1 - 1 Birmingham City (And Other Ramblings)
1. Proof That Shameless Begging Doesn't Work
The voting for the http://www.soccerlens.com/ awards have now finished, and we have performed about as well as the Ronnie the Rhino Party did at the last general election. As West Ham fans we are more than capable of coping with the emotion of humiliation tinged with abject failure, so you needn't worry about our ability to get on with things.
We'd like to thank the 12 of you who voted for us, though. (3%! My God - Ross Perot got more than that. My head is currently hanging in shame).
2. An Admission Of Guilt
This game took place a very very long time ago. I can barely remember it to be truthful. This is not a bad thing. In fact, if anything, I remember way too much about it. It may well be the case that an awful lot of this review is made up. I feel this will improve things.
3. Where Do We Go From Here?
Let's be honest about this. Last year was an appalling, fantastic, dire but ultimately thrilling ride. None of us ever wanted to go through it all again, and we dreamed of days like this, when we could draw 1-1 with Birmingham in a game so dull it would cause God himself to cry, and it wouldn't matter one iota.
Well, here it is. Be careful what you wish for.
On a weekend when the Premiership clubs proved exactly how much they care about you and the sanctity of the English game by proposing to play games in Beijing, here was an example of everything that is wrong about top flight football in this country. Two teams almost totally devoid of flair, battling valiantly but serving up a game of football that could almost entice a man to turn to golf.
You know things are bad when you find yourself wondering when Bobby Zamora is going to be fit.
4. I've Got The Blues
If they send dross like this over to Miami then we might end up alienating the entire Continent quicker than you can say "Communism Rocks!".
Both myself and Beluga have been relentlessly highlighting the near catatonic state of our attacking play, and there was no visible improvement today. Faced with a determined, but very limited, Birmingham team we huffed and puffed, and ultimately blew ourselves out long before this torture was mercifully ended.
Trying to watch us at home this season has been a long and painful task. Our season has been littered with results like this, and even though we don't lose very often at home, we also don't win that much either, and we do it providing the sort of entertainment a man can usually only get at the orthodontist.
5. The Opposition
It is not exactly my place to be pointing fingers at teams like Birmingham and tutting. Sure, playing for a draw and doing it with all the excitement of the latest Amy Winehouse story is hardly a recipe for getting the rest of the world to love you, but desperate times and all that. Alex McLeish has done a splendid job since taking over and has his team playing to the best of their extremely limited abilities, evidenced by some excellent results at tottenham and Arsenal before this.
However, if Abraham Lincoln was to have commented on this game he would have described it thus: "People who like this kind of thing, will find this the kind of thing they like".
Now not a lot of people know that Big Abe was quite in to his footy as a kid until he took his GCSE's and his mum told him to concentrate on either the whole slavery thing or writing about the Beautiful Game. But basically, what he was saying was "If you like dull, turgid, lifeless games of football then you'll love this". (As the rest of the footballing world looks squarely at Middlesbrough fans).
6. The Referee
Referee Mark Clattenburg only really had two significant decisions in this game and didn't over impress anyone in making them. He firstly gave James McFadden a fairly soft penalty after a criminally poor piece of defending by Lucas Neill. Our demi God full back allowed McFadden to roll him before he stuck out his hands, probably in shame, and gave the Scot a tug on his shirt which apparently caused him to lose all use of his legs.
With the match dwindling to a merciful end, Clattenburg then somehow chose to extend the agony by sending off Lee Bowyer. I can understand the decision - it was a strange tackle and maybe looked worse than it was, although I was more surprised that Hayden Mullins went unpunished for his equally late challenge just moments before.
Of course, Clattenburg later rescinded the card, which at least shows that he has functioning eyeballs.
7. Swede Dreams
Curiously, this game started somewhat brightly. After just 7 minutes, Freddie Ljungberg showed the world that if the ball is bouncing around 4 yards from goal with the opposition defence off on a hiking trip in the Andes, then he has no peer in global football.
Quite aside from that, Ljungberg was excellent. His return to form has coincided with his muscles beginning to function like those of ordinary human being, and it is probably not too garish a suggestion that this is his best run of form for a couple of years. I have upgraded my valuation of him from "a large bag of spanners" to "actual legal tender".
Of course, he will never be the force he was at Arsenal. For a start his pace has declined to the point that could be best described as "Ashtonian", whilst the fall off in his goalscoring is the really telling aspect. All of the above being true, one cannot overlook the fact that he is now having his darting runs picked out by Hayden Mullins rather than Tomas Rosicky.
8. My Kingdom For A Horse
The most disappointed man in the ground on Saturday must have been Dean Ashton. With Fabio Capello in attendance, presumably to check out the great swathes of Englishmen on display, Ashton spent 90 minutes doing a very passable impression of a less talented man than Darren Bent.
It is all very well moaning about the lack of salary (that'll be just the £25,000 a week), or the lack of first team opportunities but if you are going to spend 90 minutes being outplayed by Liam Ridgewell then there are mirrors somewhere out there which can provide you with the opportunity for the required good, long look.
I would urge time and a bit of nurturing for Ashton. He seems to be the next in line for the Upton Park boo boys which strikes me as extraordinary when Luis Boa Morte is still on the payroll, but logic has never sat comfortably in the Bobby Moore Lower. Here is a guy returning from a career threatening injury into team devoid of attacking flair, playing a 4-5-1 system that may as well have been designed to stop him being effective, such is his inability to fit in.
It has been a long and painful road to get to this juncture. I cannot see things easing until next year....
The voting for the http://www.soccerlens.com/ awards have now finished, and we have performed about as well as the Ronnie the Rhino Party did at the last general election. As West Ham fans we are more than capable of coping with the emotion of humiliation tinged with abject failure, so you needn't worry about our ability to get on with things.
We'd like to thank the 12 of you who voted for us, though. (3%! My God - Ross Perot got more than that. My head is currently hanging in shame).
2. An Admission Of Guilt
This game took place a very very long time ago. I can barely remember it to be truthful. This is not a bad thing. In fact, if anything, I remember way too much about it. It may well be the case that an awful lot of this review is made up. I feel this will improve things.
3. Where Do We Go From Here?
Let's be honest about this. Last year was an appalling, fantastic, dire but ultimately thrilling ride. None of us ever wanted to go through it all again, and we dreamed of days like this, when we could draw 1-1 with Birmingham in a game so dull it would cause God himself to cry, and it wouldn't matter one iota.
Well, here it is. Be careful what you wish for.
On a weekend when the Premiership clubs proved exactly how much they care about you and the sanctity of the English game by proposing to play games in Beijing, here was an example of everything that is wrong about top flight football in this country. Two teams almost totally devoid of flair, battling valiantly but serving up a game of football that could almost entice a man to turn to golf.
You know things are bad when you find yourself wondering when Bobby Zamora is going to be fit.
4. I've Got The Blues
If they send dross like this over to Miami then we might end up alienating the entire Continent quicker than you can say "Communism Rocks!".
Both myself and Beluga have been relentlessly highlighting the near catatonic state of our attacking play, and there was no visible improvement today. Faced with a determined, but very limited, Birmingham team we huffed and puffed, and ultimately blew ourselves out long before this torture was mercifully ended.
Trying to watch us at home this season has been a long and painful task. Our season has been littered with results like this, and even though we don't lose very often at home, we also don't win that much either, and we do it providing the sort of entertainment a man can usually only get at the orthodontist.
5. The Opposition
It is not exactly my place to be pointing fingers at teams like Birmingham and tutting. Sure, playing for a draw and doing it with all the excitement of the latest Amy Winehouse story is hardly a recipe for getting the rest of the world to love you, but desperate times and all that. Alex McLeish has done a splendid job since taking over and has his team playing to the best of their extremely limited abilities, evidenced by some excellent results at tottenham and Arsenal before this.
However, if Abraham Lincoln was to have commented on this game he would have described it thus: "People who like this kind of thing, will find this the kind of thing they like".
Now not a lot of people know that Big Abe was quite in to his footy as a kid until he took his GCSE's and his mum told him to concentrate on either the whole slavery thing or writing about the Beautiful Game. But basically, what he was saying was "If you like dull, turgid, lifeless games of football then you'll love this". (As the rest of the footballing world looks squarely at Middlesbrough fans).
6. The Referee
Referee Mark Clattenburg only really had two significant decisions in this game and didn't over impress anyone in making them. He firstly gave James McFadden a fairly soft penalty after a criminally poor piece of defending by Lucas Neill. Our demi God full back allowed McFadden to roll him before he stuck out his hands, probably in shame, and gave the Scot a tug on his shirt which apparently caused him to lose all use of his legs.
With the match dwindling to a merciful end, Clattenburg then somehow chose to extend the agony by sending off Lee Bowyer. I can understand the decision - it was a strange tackle and maybe looked worse than it was, although I was more surprised that Hayden Mullins went unpunished for his equally late challenge just moments before.
Of course, Clattenburg later rescinded the card, which at least shows that he has functioning eyeballs.
7. Swede Dreams
Curiously, this game started somewhat brightly. After just 7 minutes, Freddie Ljungberg showed the world that if the ball is bouncing around 4 yards from goal with the opposition defence off on a hiking trip in the Andes, then he has no peer in global football.
Quite aside from that, Ljungberg was excellent. His return to form has coincided with his muscles beginning to function like those of ordinary human being, and it is probably not too garish a suggestion that this is his best run of form for a couple of years. I have upgraded my valuation of him from "a large bag of spanners" to "actual legal tender".
Of course, he will never be the force he was at Arsenal. For a start his pace has declined to the point that could be best described as "Ashtonian", whilst the fall off in his goalscoring is the really telling aspect. All of the above being true, one cannot overlook the fact that he is now having his darting runs picked out by Hayden Mullins rather than Tomas Rosicky.
8. My Kingdom For A Horse
The most disappointed man in the ground on Saturday must have been Dean Ashton. With Fabio Capello in attendance, presumably to check out the great swathes of Englishmen on display, Ashton spent 90 minutes doing a very passable impression of a less talented man than Darren Bent.
It is all very well moaning about the lack of salary (that'll be just the £25,000 a week), or the lack of first team opportunities but if you are going to spend 90 minutes being outplayed by Liam Ridgewell then there are mirrors somewhere out there which can provide you with the opportunity for the required good, long look.
I would urge time and a bit of nurturing for Ashton. He seems to be the next in line for the Upton Park boo boys which strikes me as extraordinary when Luis Boa Morte is still on the payroll, but logic has never sat comfortably in the Bobby Moore Lower. Here is a guy returning from a career threatening injury into team devoid of attacking flair, playing a 4-5-1 system that may as well have been designed to stop him being effective, such is his inability to fit in.
It has been a long and painful road to get to this juncture. I cannot see things easing until next year....
Thursday, February 07, 2008
West Ham United vs Birmingham City: Match Preview - 09/02/2008
1. Always The Bridesmaid
Birmingham City have continually been forced to play second fiddle to their local rivals Aston Villa, the more celebrated of the Midlands teams - but this life in the shadows is not just confined to the football field.
Since the World Wars, Birmingham itself has come to be known as the UK's 'second city' ahead of more deserving claims from the likes of Manchester, Edinburgh, Liverpool, East Grinstead and Romford.
During the course of this week's meticulous research, I uncovered some staggering facts. Did you know that our guests this Saturday are twinned with such metropolitan luminaries as Milan, Chicago and Johannesburg?
More fittingly, the city also shares its name with a crater on the Moon - although deciding which of the two is a barren wasteland completely devoid of any atmosphere whatsoever, is a tough one.
2. History
With Birmingham newly promoted, there was no corresponding fixture last season. The last time the two teams met at Upton Park was in February 2006 and resulted in a 3-0 home victory for Alan Pardew's newly promoted side.
Birmingham went down that year but managed to bounce straight back up thanks largely to the absence of media glare, efficiently reflected by Steve Bruce's angular hooter.
Our Premiership record against The Blues is good having won three, drawn one and lost one of our five meetings. We only played them three times throughout the whole of the 1990's and have enjoyed the upper hand since.
Without a win since Boxing Day, Birmingham have struggled of late and took only one point from their last two 'six-pointers' against fellow relegation candidates Sunderland and Derby County. They need to start picking up points fast as they play nine top half teams in their remaining thirteen fixtures.
The fact that they are in the midst of a relegation tussle worries me. We are the type of team that could all too easily provide them with the winning catalyst they need (see Wigan last week). Their incentive to win is greater than ours and it doesn't take much for West Ham to rest on their laurels.
3. The Ravages Of Time
Allegations have been made recently about my naivety regarding West Ham's prospects this season. Regular readers will know that wild and unfounded accusations have no place on this blog (Jeremy Clarkson pays badgers for sex), but I shall tackle them anyway.
The last twenty years tell us that when we play teams we should convincingly beat, we invariably lose. Saturday's result did nothing to dispel this truth - but I imagine a little youthful exuberance can sometimes be refreshing for you, readers.
You see, I am significantly younger than HeadHammer Shark, so you'll forgive me if I try to inject a little cheer into our regularly hopeless plight as Hammers fans and dispel all this doom and gloom from an old-timer who regards the absence of elbow patches as "decadent folly".
I'm not going to bang on about this (anymore), suffice to say that HeadHammer Shark is an old man, out of touch with his people whilst simultaneously coercing votes out of them.
He is the Robert Mugabe of cyberspace.
4. Internazionale
Wednesday night saw Matthew Upson play a full 90 minutes at the heart of England's defence. It's been a long time since we saw a current West Ham player as an England centre-back and Upson can have done himself no harm for future selection after putting in a solid display.
A naturally left and right footed pairing in Upson and Ferdinand looked promising and, Ferdinand aside, I refuse to believe that there's another centre back in the country with a better claim than Upson. John Terry is regularly shown up when he faces world class players and he shouldn't be an automatic choice, let alone captain. Willingly putting your head in front of an opposition boot does not a great centre-back make.
England's performance was initially nervy but ultimately successful, with a few debutants underlining their claims for regular international selection - notably Blackburn's David Bentley.
Personally, I found it quite refreshing to see England knocking the ball around on the deck and taking their time, despite a brief spell of derision from some home fans exhibiting the memories of goldfish. The absence of a few big names, more recently picked on past glories as opposed to actual form, was also a welcome addition.
In the second half, England looked a competent international side for the first time in ages and the lack of panicky long balls was pleasing. Tweaks are still needed (Micah Richards and Wayne Bridge at full-back, Jermaine Jenas exiled), but we can feel confident that Capello is his own boss and will not pick players on reputation alone.
Fabio's methods will no doubt come in for some flack eventually, but where has Premiership-style football played at 100mph got us in the last 10 years?
5. Love Is In The Air
I got an email from those industrious folk at West Ham's commercial sector the other day, lauding the merchandise available in a special Valentines Day promotion.
Any male readers out there wrestling with ideas for their better halves may currently be in a pickle. But fear not, struggling to come up with the perfect gift to let your lady know just how much she means to you is no longer an issue.
Just imagine the beaming look on her face as the gift is unwrapped, eyes welling up when she discovers not a bootleg...
... but an official West Ham United Cereal Bowl.
6. Travelling Circus
It has been announced this week that all 20 Premier League teams have voted to explore the possibilityof playing some Premiership fixtures overseas as early as the 2010-'11 season.
The current proposition is that the season be extended by 10 games (one full weekend programme) with these matches being staged at five different venues around the world and with potential hosts bidding for them.
As it stands, the extra fixtures could be determined by a draw with the top five teams being seeded in order to avoid each other.
It all sounds like a bit of a ruthless money-spinning exercise to me. Can you imagine the frustration of narrowly claiming a UEFA Cup spot after 38 games, only to be drawn against Man United in the 39th and having to fork out for a trip to bloody Nairobi to inevitably see us lose out on European football?
Whether all this is sanctioned won't be known for another year, but I can't see how it will benefit the teams involved and only seems like a shallow attempt to strengthen the 'brand' of the Premiership as opposed to the actual competition. Whilst of course lining someone's pockets.
7. The Opposition
Joint top-scorer Olivier Kapo is suspended for this game, but his striking counterpart Cameron Jerome looks set to start after his run out for England U-21s in midweek. James McFadden should play having made the trip from Everton during the transfer window and City also welcome back Jaidi and Nafti from the African Cup of Nations.
Alex McLeish finds his team in trouble having made a stirring start to his career as Birmingham manager (we all cheered that last minute thunderbolt from Sebastian Larsson to win 3-2 at Spurs).
The Blues are now at their lowest League position since the last week of August and McLeish will be hoping that his numerous dips into the transfer market during the window will steady the ship.
8. Missing In Action
We'll be looking for our fourth home win on the spin come Saturday and remain unbeaten at Upton Park since mid-December. Just who will be called upon to get that win remains as open to speculation as at any other time this season.
A hastily-arranged friendly against QPR on Monday gave the chance for some of our injured masses to get a few minutes under their belt. Julien Faubert played the full 90 minutes, so one would hope he will feature prominently at the weekend.
Nobby Solano played for 45 minutes whereas Craig Bellamy and Bobby Z both got an hour, Bellamy managing to climb off his hoverboard and evade his arch-nemesis Spiderman long enough to grab a goal. Zamora also scored in a 2-1 win.
9. John Paintsil Update
Our main man has been busy this week. He played all the way to the African Cup Of Nations semi-final, caught a falling baby outside of a German apartment block and re-doubled his efforts against the resurgent Taliban.
Despite all this, he still found time to make considerable gains in the US Presidential Primaries.
Birmingham City have continually been forced to play second fiddle to their local rivals Aston Villa, the more celebrated of the Midlands teams - but this life in the shadows is not just confined to the football field.
Since the World Wars, Birmingham itself has come to be known as the UK's 'second city' ahead of more deserving claims from the likes of Manchester, Edinburgh, Liverpool, East Grinstead and Romford.
During the course of this week's meticulous research, I uncovered some staggering facts. Did you know that our guests this Saturday are twinned with such metropolitan luminaries as Milan, Chicago and Johannesburg?
More fittingly, the city also shares its name with a crater on the Moon - although deciding which of the two is a barren wasteland completely devoid of any atmosphere whatsoever, is a tough one.
2. History
With Birmingham newly promoted, there was no corresponding fixture last season. The last time the two teams met at Upton Park was in February 2006 and resulted in a 3-0 home victory for Alan Pardew's newly promoted side.
Birmingham went down that year but managed to bounce straight back up thanks largely to the absence of media glare, efficiently reflected by Steve Bruce's angular hooter.
Our Premiership record against The Blues is good having won three, drawn one and lost one of our five meetings. We only played them three times throughout the whole of the 1990's and have enjoyed the upper hand since.
Without a win since Boxing Day, Birmingham have struggled of late and took only one point from their last two 'six-pointers' against fellow relegation candidates Sunderland and Derby County. They need to start picking up points fast as they play nine top half teams in their remaining thirteen fixtures.
The fact that they are in the midst of a relegation tussle worries me. We are the type of team that could all too easily provide them with the winning catalyst they need (see Wigan last week). Their incentive to win is greater than ours and it doesn't take much for West Ham to rest on their laurels.
3. The Ravages Of Time
Allegations have been made recently about my naivety regarding West Ham's prospects this season. Regular readers will know that wild and unfounded accusations have no place on this blog (Jeremy Clarkson pays badgers for sex), but I shall tackle them anyway.
The last twenty years tell us that when we play teams we should convincingly beat, we invariably lose. Saturday's result did nothing to dispel this truth - but I imagine a little youthful exuberance can sometimes be refreshing for you, readers.
You see, I am significantly younger than HeadHammer Shark, so you'll forgive me if I try to inject a little cheer into our regularly hopeless plight as Hammers fans and dispel all this doom and gloom from an old-timer who regards the absence of elbow patches as "decadent folly".
I'm not going to bang on about this (anymore), suffice to say that HeadHammer Shark is an old man, out of touch with his people whilst simultaneously coercing votes out of them.
He is the Robert Mugabe of cyberspace.
4. Internazionale
Wednesday night saw Matthew Upson play a full 90 minutes at the heart of England's defence. It's been a long time since we saw a current West Ham player as an England centre-back and Upson can have done himself no harm for future selection after putting in a solid display.
A naturally left and right footed pairing in Upson and Ferdinand looked promising and, Ferdinand aside, I refuse to believe that there's another centre back in the country with a better claim than Upson. John Terry is regularly shown up when he faces world class players and he shouldn't be an automatic choice, let alone captain. Willingly putting your head in front of an opposition boot does not a great centre-back make.
England's performance was initially nervy but ultimately successful, with a few debutants underlining their claims for regular international selection - notably Blackburn's David Bentley.
Personally, I found it quite refreshing to see England knocking the ball around on the deck and taking their time, despite a brief spell of derision from some home fans exhibiting the memories of goldfish. The absence of a few big names, more recently picked on past glories as opposed to actual form, was also a welcome addition.
In the second half, England looked a competent international side for the first time in ages and the lack of panicky long balls was pleasing. Tweaks are still needed (Micah Richards and Wayne Bridge at full-back, Jermaine Jenas exiled), but we can feel confident that Capello is his own boss and will not pick players on reputation alone.
Fabio's methods will no doubt come in for some flack eventually, but where has Premiership-style football played at 100mph got us in the last 10 years?
5. Love Is In The Air
I got an email from those industrious folk at West Ham's commercial sector the other day, lauding the merchandise available in a special Valentines Day promotion.
Any male readers out there wrestling with ideas for their better halves may currently be in a pickle. But fear not, struggling to come up with the perfect gift to let your lady know just how much she means to you is no longer an issue.
Just imagine the beaming look on her face as the gift is unwrapped, eyes welling up when she discovers not a bootleg...
... but an official West Ham United Cereal Bowl.
6. Travelling Circus
It has been announced this week that all 20 Premier League teams have voted to explore the possibilityof playing some Premiership fixtures overseas as early as the 2010-'11 season.
The current proposition is that the season be extended by 10 games (one full weekend programme) with these matches being staged at five different venues around the world and with potential hosts bidding for them.
As it stands, the extra fixtures could be determined by a draw with the top five teams being seeded in order to avoid each other.
It all sounds like a bit of a ruthless money-spinning exercise to me. Can you imagine the frustration of narrowly claiming a UEFA Cup spot after 38 games, only to be drawn against Man United in the 39th and having to fork out for a trip to bloody Nairobi to inevitably see us lose out on European football?
Whether all this is sanctioned won't be known for another year, but I can't see how it will benefit the teams involved and only seems like a shallow attempt to strengthen the 'brand' of the Premiership as opposed to the actual competition. Whilst of course lining someone's pockets.
7. The Opposition
Joint top-scorer Olivier Kapo is suspended for this game, but his striking counterpart Cameron Jerome looks set to start after his run out for England U-21s in midweek. James McFadden should play having made the trip from Everton during the transfer window and City also welcome back Jaidi and Nafti from the African Cup of Nations.
Alex McLeish finds his team in trouble having made a stirring start to his career as Birmingham manager (we all cheered that last minute thunderbolt from Sebastian Larsson to win 3-2 at Spurs).
The Blues are now at their lowest League position since the last week of August and McLeish will be hoping that his numerous dips into the transfer market during the window will steady the ship.
8. Missing In Action
We'll be looking for our fourth home win on the spin come Saturday and remain unbeaten at Upton Park since mid-December. Just who will be called upon to get that win remains as open to speculation as at any other time this season.
A hastily-arranged friendly against QPR on Monday gave the chance for some of our injured masses to get a few minutes under their belt. Julien Faubert played the full 90 minutes, so one would hope he will feature prominently at the weekend.
Nobby Solano played for 45 minutes whereas Craig Bellamy and Bobby Z both got an hour, Bellamy managing to climb off his hoverboard and evade his arch-nemesis Spiderman long enough to grab a goal. Zamora also scored in a 2-1 win.
9. John Paintsil Update
Our main man has been busy this week. He played all the way to the African Cup Of Nations semi-final, caught a falling baby outside of a German apartment block and re-doubled his efforts against the resurgent Taliban.
Despite all this, he still found time to make considerable gains in the US Presidential Primaries.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Wigan 1 - 0 West Ham (And Other Ramblings)
1. Has It Really Come To This?
Really? I mean, come on. Good Lord, I'd like to think I'm a decent enough human being - I rarely, if ever, fire lizards at hobo's, I hardly ever give tourists deliberately incorrect information and I sure as hell do not listen to the music of Robbie Williams.
Ergo - I don't think I deserve to be welcomed back to H List duties where my team is defeated because we could not mark Kevin Kilbane.
I know I've been away, and I'm sorry but this is cruel and unusual punishment.
2. The Pitched Battle
Alan Curbishley described this pitch as an "embarrassment" which is a bit rich for a man who spent £5m on Luis Boa Morte, but he did have a point. Perhaps it is fitting for us to play on a pitch resembling Ypres, as this is the era currently being honoured by our crack medical team, but all told it cannot have been easy to play on this swamp.
All of the above being true doesn't excuse a performance as abject as this, however. Wigan were required to play on the same quagmire, and did a considerably better job of it. Which is fairly shameful.
3. The Statistics
We managed to keep the ball for 55% of the time, but were almost totally useless in what we did with it. I need not remind anyone that we were playing Wigan, and that we mustered a single attempt on goal. Gone red? Me too.
Our only truly decent chance fell to the returning Craig Bellamy who ballooned it somewhere into West Lancashire. Otherwise it was dreary stuff as the home team were less inept than us and deservedly took the points.
The day that Kevin Kilbane and Michael Brown have more shots on target than your entire team is the day to hold up your hands and admit - "Yep, we're all stoned off our nut".
4. The Opposition
I'm not sure that being better than us on this particular day is necessarily a glowing reference. None the less, a team can only beat the dross that is put in front of them and just because your opposition is insipid shouldn't detract from a decent performance.
This win lifted the Latics out of the relegation zone, and as decent a showing as this was it can't disguise some obvious shortcomings. Let's be honest, if you decide to spend £5m on Marlon King then you may as well walk round with "Desperate" on your t-shirt.
I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned this before but they are also owned by Convicted Price Fixer Dave Whelan.
5. The Referee
M Atkinson of Yorkshire. I have no idea why it is commonplace in English football to tell everyone where officials come from. To me that just encourages retaliatory attacks, but what do I know - I can't even find out M Atkinson's first name.
I think it's Martin, but whatever, he didn't do anything to offend me as much as Dean Ashton did on Saturday.
6. Wherefore Art Thou?
Our curious see sawing between 4-5-1 and 4-4-2 continues apace. After our tremendous midweek win over Liverpool was hewn on the back of Carlton Cole's turn as a lone frontman, it was surprising to see Curbishley restore Ashton to the line up and try and batter Wigan with two big strikers.
The problem with this plan is that our policy of flooding the midfield and breaking in numbers has seen off many better teams than Wigan this year, and the stunning fact is that Ashton is currently not even fit to lace Cole's boots. He is but a pale, if significantly larger, shadow of his pre injury self.
The problem is that Ashton is simply not built to play as a lone striker, given his crippling lack of mobility and curious diffidence for the physical side of the game. His real ability is his lovely touch, and gift for bringing others into the game, which work far better when he has a strike partner within a country mile of him.
The fact that he apparently has the raging hump over his meagre, meagre I say, £23,000 weekly pay packet doesn't seem to be helping a great deal. Of course, the fact that I am currently paid less than Luis Boa Morte annoys me so I can only imagine what it must do to the rest of the squad.
7. The Green Effect
Robert Green was left motionless for the Wigan goal, probably out of shock that there is still someone out there willing to pay Kevin Kilbane to play football, but that shouldn't detract away from his outstanding recent form.
Sadly, this wasn't deemed good enough for new England boss Fabio Capello who chose his opposite number, the unremarkable Chris Kirkland, along with the curiously over rated Scott Carson, in his first squad. As with anything there are two ways to view this latest snub. One could assume that it is a positive thing for us given that all West Ham players return from England duty with obliterated legs, or alternatively we could be seriously worried as Green is likely to get fed up and head for pastures new.
I don't know Robert Green (imagine) and I have no idea whether he views this all as intolerably cruel, but it does seem strange that he has been overlooked for so long.
Elsewhere, Capello has at least done one thing right, as he passed my "Alan Smith Test", by not picking the least effective English centre forward in the Western World. Now, picking Curtis Davies seems a bit odd but I'll just go ahead and assume that he was actually just trying to request some Curtis Mayfield for the team bus.
8. Head Upson
In contrast to Green, Matthew Upson was recalled to the squad after someone somewhere realised that picking Michael Dawson for the national team was getting us mocked by our Continental colleagues.
He celebrated by not doing a particularly special job of marking Marlon King, but in the grand scheme of things this was his first down performance for a while and he was hardly alone.
It has to be said that his resurgence has been astounding in every sense, and should he get on at any stage tomorrow it will only serve to reinforce what a tremendous signing he is proving to be.
Which is like, totally wow man.
9. The Consumate West Ham Week
This might actually be our first defeat of the season that has actually caused me to be genuinely annoyed. Certainly, losing at Newcastle is hardly something to be proud of, ditto for Villa and Man City. But it can't be denied that we have done a fairly decent job of taking points from the dregs of the League.
Our great away form has been the bedrock of our season and as a result, losing at Wigan was a shock. However, after years of abject nonsense away from Upton Park I am well able to cope with the odd defeat such as this, but it's probably a decent indication of why exactly we won't be troubling the top six anytime soon.
Sadly you get the odd naive young colt such as The Boleyn Beluga who sees a home win over Liverpool, sees a 3 game run against Wigan, Birmingham and Fulham, and decides that he's going to start booking his Euro Rail tickets for next year's inevitable Champions League assault. Now, hope is the natural enemy of the West Ham fan, and I'd like to see some of this ambition reined back in - it will end in tears. We are going to finish tenth. Get used to it.
10. Yet More Shameless Begging
Last time you heard from me I was trying to get you all to vote for The H List in a couple of awards. One of them featured the worlds most convoluted voting process ever, so much so that I ripped my spleen out half way through trying, simply to improve my mood.
However, unbeknownst to myself or Beluga, someone somewhere nominated us in the Soccerlens awards. We are in the categories of:
"Best EPL Blog" (English Premier League you heathens. We're all speaking American now. Color has no "u" anymore folks) - http://soccerlens.com/the-best-epl-blog-soccerlens-2007-awards/5639/
"Best Blog You've Never Heard Of" - http://soccerlens.com/the-best-blog-youve-never-heard-of-soccerlens-2007-awards/5636/
I can promise you that voting in these awards will not cause you to lose the will to live.
I suppose that we could rely on the natural wit and dazzling prose of The H List to carry us through, but if we did that we'd never win. So all I ask then is a concerted voting effort from all our loyal readers and a token gesture from our disloyal ones. Nothing major, maybe just a few rallies, a TV campaign and some newspaper ads. Perhaps one of our American readers could get on stage at a Super Tuesday event with The H List daubed on their chest.
So, as you can see - nothing too big.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Wigan Athletic vs West Ham United: Match Preview - 02/02/2008
1. City Of The Damned
In preparation for this post I have been forced to do some research on the nuclear-testing-site-in-waiting that is Wigan, lest these previews degenerate into mindless abuse (I'd love them to, but that tyrant HeadHammer Shark (remember him?) forbids it).
Having scoured the internet for about 10 minutes, I found two notes of interest - baked beans originate from Wigan, as does Sir Ian McKellen. That's yer lot.
I was also forced to log-on to the Wigan FC website where I was disgusted to see a translucent image of Dave Whelan lurking in the background of every page, like some sort of nefarious price-fixing spectre - no doubt included at his own behest.
I am sickened to the very core by this soulless charade of a football club.
2. Excellent News
Before we get started, a word on yesterday's transfer window deadline. We made no signings, which comes as little surprise whereas Wigan have signed 32-year old Norwegian defender, Erik Hagen - the kind of man who wouldn't look out of place on the door at a private members club for Nazis.
What thoroughly cheered me this morning was the news that Jermaine Defoe has signed for Portsmouth. This of course means that we all get another chance to welcome him back to Upton Park and sing our new favourite song, when he visits with Pompey on 5th April.
3. The Devil's Duopoly
Hitler and Himmler. Fred and Rose West. Hoddle and Waddle singing 'Diamond Lights'.
History is littered with malevolent couples that have brought devastation and suffering to humanity. I would wager a bet that, years from now, the world will remember the new Wigan pairing of Dave Whelan and Steve Bruce as among the most sinful.
It's hard to imagine a more distasteful Chairman-Manager axis without referring directly to human rights abuses - and one could argue that Wigan's brand of football is exactly that.
The Price Fixer and The Ginger Whinger only serve to compound Wigan's deserved reputation as the worst football club in the Premiership. From the self-righteous Board, to the uninspired team, to their pathetic fanbase, they exhibit as much passion and verve as a sexually repressed Englishman ironing his socks.
Unfortunately, you can be sure of seeing a lot more of Steve Bruce in the future. The recent return of Ski Sunday to the BBC of course means that his zig-zagging, slalom course of a nose will feature heavily in the TV schedules.
4. The History
Last year's corresponding fixture was possibly our most assured and complete performance of the season. In what was a must-win game, we dominated from start to finish and produced some devastating counter-attacking football to win 3-0. This game was however more remarkable for one astounding statistic.
Luis Boa Morte scored.
(Once you've wiped the tears from your eyes brought on by the smelling salts, I'll continue with some more sobering analysis)
Whilst it's true that Luis scored on this occasion, it was his first goal for the club and he hasn't managed another. Boa Morte has been with us for over a year now, making 37 appearances with 13 as sub.
A return of one goal in 37 for an attacking midfielder who occasionally plays upfront, is woeful. How he missed those two six-yard sitters against Liverpool in midweek, I'll never know. Jeremy Beadle could've banged those in from his deathbed.
Our general record against Wigan is the epitome of average - in our last eight we've won three, lost three and drawn two, though we remain undefeated at that insipid shell of a football ground, the JJB Stadium. The Latics have managed a few decent results in the last few weeks with wins over Blackburn and Newcastle and managed to hold Liverpool to a draw at Anfield.
But they're Wigan and I hate them. We really have to back ourselves to win this one and show a bit of ruthlessness if we are to capitalise on Wednesday's invaluable three points.
5. If The Capello Fits
Italian Mafia Don, Fabio Capello announced his first England squad yesterday with much interest surrounding his choices.
There had been talk of a few West Ham players garnering England ambitions and the clean slate heralded by Capello lead to fresh optimism. However, Matthew Upson was the only player to make the 30-man selection and it remains to be seen whether he will still be around come Saturday, when Capello is set to cut a further seven names.
The notable omission, not just from West Ham fans, would be the continued absence of Robert Green. Just how Green can regularly be overlooked for Scott Carson is a mystery to most, and now it seems as if Wigan's beanpole Chris Kirkland has leap-frogged our Number 1.
The selection of Jermaine Jenas is startling. Italians are famed the world over for their sense of style, and yet our new footballing overlord has chosen to select someone who's baffling hair makes him look like a disheveled, lost and bewildered Arthur Fonzarelli.
6. Putting People's Noses Out Of Joint
Steve Bruce is the Nicolas Anelka of the managerial world, professing passion and love of whoever is employing him at the time, but always ready to walk out on them for a better offer at the drop of a hat.
He started out his managerial career at Sheffield United in 1998, moving to Huddersfield Town just a year later after some trademark whinging about 'broken promises' led to his resignation. Sacked by Huddersfield after 12 months, he moved to Wigan and pledged his allegiance for a full seven weeks before jumping ship and heading to Crystal Palace.
Bruce soon quashed any doubts over his loyalty by remaining with Palace for four whole months, by which time he risked the wrath of the swashbuckling Simon Jordan and decided to leave for Birmingham. More recently, Bruce's move to Wigan cost his new employers £3million in compensation to Birmingham City.
Some have accused Wigan of paying through the nose for an average-at-best manager. But considering that this is Steve Bruce's nose we're talking about, of much greater concern must be the safety of the deal brokers who are still lost in there somewhere among the catacombs, cul-de-sacs and blind corners of Bruce's angular hooter.
7. The Injury List
I really can't bring myself to make any guesses as to who will start or be on the bench this weekend as it's all I ever seem to do. Perhaps if Curbishley elected to not wrap returning 'athletes' in cotton wool and bubble wrap for months on end, we might have more of an idea.
It's easier to guess who won't be there - Collins is out for the rest of the season and Parker is a long-term lay off. Solano is doubtful and I've forgotten what Kieron Dyer looks like.
8. The Bigger Picture
Things are looking pretty rosy for us at the moment and I suppose much of the credit for that must go to Alan Curbishley, even if a lot of us would like to see a bit more attacking dynamism on the pitch.
Our 10th spot League position is solid and, inspiringly, there are more points between us and 11th-placed tottenham (8) than us and Champions League Football (7). We also have the benefit of having a game in hand over all but one of the teams above us and all of those below.
With our remaining fixtures being an equal mix of big guns, goal fodder and comparable teams, and with us having more away games left than home, it is not inconceivable for us to harbour realistic hopes of European football next season.
We still have to play Blackburn (h), Everton (a), Portsmouth (h) and Villa (h) who all find themselves in a similar position. So, whilst we are out of both Cup competitions, there could still be something to play for come the last few weeks of the season if we can combine consistency with the smooth amalgamation of returning first team players.
9. In Summary
I can see tomorrow's game going one of two ways:
Either we put in an accomplished performance and despatch the opposition in a manner which gives us all hope that we have genuinely kicked-on from last year, or it will resemble the footballing equivalent of a car crash.
No bad thing for Steve Bruce, as his crumpled car bonnet of a nose may then go unnoticed.
In preparation for this post I have been forced to do some research on the nuclear-testing-site-in-waiting that is Wigan, lest these previews degenerate into mindless abuse (I'd love them to, but that tyrant HeadHammer Shark (remember him?) forbids it).
Having scoured the internet for about 10 minutes, I found two notes of interest - baked beans originate from Wigan, as does Sir Ian McKellen. That's yer lot.
I was also forced to log-on to the Wigan FC website where I was disgusted to see a translucent image of Dave Whelan lurking in the background of every page, like some sort of nefarious price-fixing spectre - no doubt included at his own behest.
I am sickened to the very core by this soulless charade of a football club.
2. Excellent News
Before we get started, a word on yesterday's transfer window deadline. We made no signings, which comes as little surprise whereas Wigan have signed 32-year old Norwegian defender, Erik Hagen - the kind of man who wouldn't look out of place on the door at a private members club for Nazis.
What thoroughly cheered me this morning was the news that Jermaine Defoe has signed for Portsmouth. This of course means that we all get another chance to welcome him back to Upton Park and sing our new favourite song, when he visits with Pompey on 5th April.
3. The Devil's Duopoly
Hitler and Himmler. Fred and Rose West. Hoddle and Waddle singing 'Diamond Lights'.
History is littered with malevolent couples that have brought devastation and suffering to humanity. I would wager a bet that, years from now, the world will remember the new Wigan pairing of Dave Whelan and Steve Bruce as among the most sinful.
It's hard to imagine a more distasteful Chairman-Manager axis without referring directly to human rights abuses - and one could argue that Wigan's brand of football is exactly that.
The Price Fixer and The Ginger Whinger only serve to compound Wigan's deserved reputation as the worst football club in the Premiership. From the self-righteous Board, to the uninspired team, to their pathetic fanbase, they exhibit as much passion and verve as a sexually repressed Englishman ironing his socks.
Unfortunately, you can be sure of seeing a lot more of Steve Bruce in the future. The recent return of Ski Sunday to the BBC of course means that his zig-zagging, slalom course of a nose will feature heavily in the TV schedules.
4. The History
Last year's corresponding fixture was possibly our most assured and complete performance of the season. In what was a must-win game, we dominated from start to finish and produced some devastating counter-attacking football to win 3-0. This game was however more remarkable for one astounding statistic.
Luis Boa Morte scored.
(Once you've wiped the tears from your eyes brought on by the smelling salts, I'll continue with some more sobering analysis)
Whilst it's true that Luis scored on this occasion, it was his first goal for the club and he hasn't managed another. Boa Morte has been with us for over a year now, making 37 appearances with 13 as sub.
A return of one goal in 37 for an attacking midfielder who occasionally plays upfront, is woeful. How he missed those two six-yard sitters against Liverpool in midweek, I'll never know. Jeremy Beadle could've banged those in from his deathbed.
Our general record against Wigan is the epitome of average - in our last eight we've won three, lost three and drawn two, though we remain undefeated at that insipid shell of a football ground, the JJB Stadium. The Latics have managed a few decent results in the last few weeks with wins over Blackburn and Newcastle and managed to hold Liverpool to a draw at Anfield.
But they're Wigan and I hate them. We really have to back ourselves to win this one and show a bit of ruthlessness if we are to capitalise on Wednesday's invaluable three points.
5. If The Capello Fits
Italian Mafia Don, Fabio Capello announced his first England squad yesterday with much interest surrounding his choices.
There had been talk of a few West Ham players garnering England ambitions and the clean slate heralded by Capello lead to fresh optimism. However, Matthew Upson was the only player to make the 30-man selection and it remains to be seen whether he will still be around come Saturday, when Capello is set to cut a further seven names.
The notable omission, not just from West Ham fans, would be the continued absence of Robert Green. Just how Green can regularly be overlooked for Scott Carson is a mystery to most, and now it seems as if Wigan's beanpole Chris Kirkland has leap-frogged our Number 1.
The selection of Jermaine Jenas is startling. Italians are famed the world over for their sense of style, and yet our new footballing overlord has chosen to select someone who's baffling hair makes him look like a disheveled, lost and bewildered Arthur Fonzarelli.
6. Putting People's Noses Out Of Joint
Steve Bruce is the Nicolas Anelka of the managerial world, professing passion and love of whoever is employing him at the time, but always ready to walk out on them for a better offer at the drop of a hat.
He started out his managerial career at Sheffield United in 1998, moving to Huddersfield Town just a year later after some trademark whinging about 'broken promises' led to his resignation. Sacked by Huddersfield after 12 months, he moved to Wigan and pledged his allegiance for a full seven weeks before jumping ship and heading to Crystal Palace.
Bruce soon quashed any doubts over his loyalty by remaining with Palace for four whole months, by which time he risked the wrath of the swashbuckling Simon Jordan and decided to leave for Birmingham. More recently, Bruce's move to Wigan cost his new employers £3million in compensation to Birmingham City.
Some have accused Wigan of paying through the nose for an average-at-best manager. But considering that this is Steve Bruce's nose we're talking about, of much greater concern must be the safety of the deal brokers who are still lost in there somewhere among the catacombs, cul-de-sacs and blind corners of Bruce's angular hooter.
7. The Injury List
I really can't bring myself to make any guesses as to who will start or be on the bench this weekend as it's all I ever seem to do. Perhaps if Curbishley elected to not wrap returning 'athletes' in cotton wool and bubble wrap for months on end, we might have more of an idea.
It's easier to guess who won't be there - Collins is out for the rest of the season and Parker is a long-term lay off. Solano is doubtful and I've forgotten what Kieron Dyer looks like.
8. The Bigger Picture
Things are looking pretty rosy for us at the moment and I suppose much of the credit for that must go to Alan Curbishley, even if a lot of us would like to see a bit more attacking dynamism on the pitch.
Our 10th spot League position is solid and, inspiringly, there are more points between us and 11th-placed tottenham (8) than us and Champions League Football (7). We also have the benefit of having a game in hand over all but one of the teams above us and all of those below.
With our remaining fixtures being an equal mix of big guns, goal fodder and comparable teams, and with us having more away games left than home, it is not inconceivable for us to harbour realistic hopes of European football next season.
We still have to play Blackburn (h), Everton (a), Portsmouth (h) and Villa (h) who all find themselves in a similar position. So, whilst we are out of both Cup competitions, there could still be something to play for come the last few weeks of the season if we can combine consistency with the smooth amalgamation of returning first team players.
9. In Summary
I can see tomorrow's game going one of two ways:
Either we put in an accomplished performance and despatch the opposition in a manner which gives us all hope that we have genuinely kicked-on from last year, or it will resemble the footballing equivalent of a car crash.
No bad thing for Steve Bruce, as his crumpled car bonnet of a nose may then go unnoticed.
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