1. A.W.O.L
Firstly, apologies to you all for having gone missing these last few weeks. I've got a lot on my plate at the moment and it's hard to see the PC monitor over all these Wagon Wheels. Especially when they're teetering precariously on a bed of chicken nuggets.
In my defence, I'm sure you can empathise with the near impossible task of trying to gee everyone up for our few remaining fixtures.
Review writing I'm sure is a much easier task, although it is to HeadHammer Shark's credit that his last few articles are the one thing to have spurred me into action this week. So you've got him to thank.
2. Refuge Of The Damned
A few weeks back it was my intention to write a piece about our upcoming games against a host of relegation candidates. Since then, Newcastle have turned the corner, both Sunderland and Bolton have beaten us (thereby diluting my H List mojo) and Derby must be odds on to cause an "upset" this weekend.
Our proud history of negating any recent poor opposition form and our regular provision of statistical anomalies all point towards a result of some sort for Derby this weekend. What's particularly worrying is that Derby manager Paul Jewell has been saying for weeks now how the players owe their fans a result before the end of the season.
Lost 14 games on the spin? Come and play West Ham. Crawled your way through a 6-month goal drought? Come and play West Ham. The signing of football superstars has done nothing to enhance the reputation or quality of your domestic league? Announce West Ham as the opposition in your All-Star showpiece.
Forget about Derby County's 11 points from 34 games, their goal difference of minus 58, our 5-0 away victory back in November - it all means nothing come 3 o'clock Saturday. I think no-one would be overly surprised were they to nick a draw at the weekend.
Surely we are capable of comprehensively beating a team at home who are so clearly out of their depth at Premiership level? Surely we can really go for the jugular and mercilessly have the game sewn up after an hour?
Surely Luis Boa Morte should be nowhere near the first team?????
3. History
It's not so long ago that we played Derby County at Upton Park, courtesy of our two year stint in the Championship. The last time was in January 2005 and resulted in a 2-1 defeat. Prior to that, a meeting in April 2004 ended in a 0-0 draw. Inspiring stuff.
The 2-1 defeat is particularly surprising as we had Marlon Harewood and Luke Chadwick upfront that day - the ugliest strike force in the history of football. Pardew's tactics were obviously to force the Derby defence to turn their heads in disgust and allow our forwards to hobble past as the defenders threw up all over the pitch.
"OK, lads - give the ball to Marlon and Luke, let them run at the defence and remember - cover your eyes. Kevin, unlock the dungeon and lead those freaks to their bucket of nutritious pre-match fish heads."
Our record over the last 10 years is more palatable with seven wins, six draws and just the single loss.
Perhaps a positive omen for us is that we have scored 23 goals against Derby in our last 12 encounters, including 5-0, 4-0 and 5-1 victories.
4. Go In Peace To Love And Serve The Lord
John Pantsil played more or less the full game at the weekend and on the face of it, did nothing to command a first team start for the remainder of this term.
Or did he?
King Pantsil was able to get Kevin Davies booked which saw the Bolton forward incur a 10th yellow card of the season, meaning he misses two of Bolton's remaining four games.
Whilst it has been established on this blog that Davies is a distinctly average "striker" (when not playing us), he is far and away Bolton's most potent attacking threat in the absence of Nicolas Anelka. Yes, this is like saying 'Wyclef Jean is easily the best black guitarist since Hendrix', but Davies' absence could prove a decisive nail in Bolton's Premiership coffin.
The Lord moves in mysterious ways.
5. Dear Alan...
"Repetition impresses the subconscious and we are then master of the situation."
Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte Drop Luis Boa Morte
Anyone interested in who came up with the little pearl of wisdom above (the top one), it was Jane Fonda. For the more highbrow among you, here's one from Mahatma Gandhi:
"Each repetition has a new meaning, carrying you nearer and nearer to God."
This also works to our benefit if one draws the logical conclusion that 'nearer and nearer to God' means that LBM will be sat next to John Pantsil on the bench.
6. Jewell In The Crown
Paul Jewell is a manager with a proven track record of keeping below average teams in top flight football. He kept Bradford City up on the last day of the '99/2000 season and achieved the same with Wigan last year.
I have a lot of time for Paul Jewell, I admire his straight-talking and candour but was quite surprised when he took the Derby post as I thought he may hold out in order to take the step up to a more established midtable outfit. He certainly took on the impossible job in regard to this season.
With his new American overlords promising summer funds (Jewell's predecessor Billy Davies had the foresight to spend their relegation parachute money before November), perhaps Jewell knows something we don't.
Although I can't see how. He must have been lured with the Street Hawk DVD boxset and a cast-iron guarantee from the board that Derby will never sign Luis Boa Morte.
7. Injuries
Bobby Moore is long dead, Alan Devonshire and Geoff Pike retired some time ago and Mark Ward is in the midst of an 8-stretch for drug dealing.
That's about as cheery as it will get before we all shake our heads and swear under our breath when the line-up is announced come Saturday afternoon.
8. The Best Laid Plans Of Mice And Men
Details have emerged this week of the latest meeting between the West Ham fans forum and the men in charge. A few interesting particulars transpired, clearing up some of the paper talk and indeed some of the opinions seeping from within the club itself.
It was heartening to hear that the return rate of our injured masses is a concern for those in power and not just the befuddled fanbase. Roehampton University have been drafted in to take a look at the Druids and cave-dwelling Shamen in charge of our medical set-up, the aim being to create a specialised medical team independent of managers and coaches.
They have done similar work with Chelsea and Adidas elite athletes, and among their stated objectives are to remove both voodoo and ritualistic Tahitian dance from the club's medical code of practice.
The playing squad is currently deemed too large and will be reduced from the current 29 to around 24. With more arrivals anticipated this summer, this would mean that a fair few faces are shown the door. You would've thought these would include Nigel Quashie and Calum Davenport.
Hopefully every effort will be made to clone Luis Boa Morte over the summer just so we can get rid of him 8 or 9 times.
Alan Curbishley recently made the assertion that his side have not given up on this season, his reasoning being that their bonuses are all linked to a top 10 finish. This didn't so much reaffirm our belief in their desire to provide us long-suffering fans with something to cheer, as confirm that their main focus is to swell their already over-inflated pay packets.
However, it has come to light that a top 10 finish will bear little fruit and that the bonus system was mainly geared towards a top 6 placement. No chance of that, so the lads will have to do the weekly shop in Lidl over the summer to get the best value out of their tens of thousands a week.
Thankfully, the Board are also unhappy with our current position and more importantly, the entertainment value. This didn't stop them pledging support for Curbs however, as they hold the belief that everything will improve once he can play his first team regularly and free of injury.
It looks as though Curbishley will be given 'til at least Christmas to prove his worth before he is offloaded and we start this whole sorry regeneration business again.
9. Steve Bruce Update
Steve Bruce recently stepped through the whirring time portal at the end of his nose to visit one of his myriad former clubs, Birmingham City.
The acrimonious nature of Bruce's departure from St Andrews is well documented and the petulant whinging about the whole situation from the current Wigan boss came as no surprise.
What was a surprise, however was the final sticking point, the whole reason Bruce's departure from Birmingham became so protracted. It was the issue of image rights. (Yes, you read that right.)
Now, I would've thought that Steve Bruce and his Angular Hooter (TM) would have been keen to offload the aforementioned rights - eager to distance themselves from his status as pin-up boy for weather-beaten chimney stack enthusiasts everywhere - but no.
Steve has also been praised this week for introducing Antoine Sibierski and Jason Koumas to proceedings when Wigan were 1-0 down at Stamford Bridge, the suggestion being that most managers would be happy to keep it tight and 'save face' when in the same position.
Obviously not a consideration for a man whose facial contours confound cartographers the world over.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Bolton Wanderers 1 - 0 West Ham (And Other Wakes I Have Attended Recently)
1. It's Like A Funeral (*)
I should have realised that this was going to be an ill fated trip, when I somehow managed to confuse our 12 year old mascot with Freddie Sears during the warm up. This lead to a brief outburst of optimism amongst my row which would not be repeated for the rest of the day.
This was easily the worst game of football I have seen since, oh I don't know, Tuesday.
(*) Today's H List headers are brought to you by the Upton Park Community Choir - Travelling Section
2. Are We Charlton In Disguise?
To describe this performance as listless and insipid would simply not do it justice. This was the footballing equivalent of being slapped around the head with a large bag of apples.
Of course, being Curbishley-era West Ham it was caked in that extra layer of shit to really make the whole thing utterly unpalatable. I'm not sure how many more times I can object to performances like this before you all switch your allegiance to another West Ham blog in protest at my constant negativity.
My biggest complaint about this day is that the players weren't outside the ground handing out money back to the 3,000 fans who wasted a day going to watch this crap when we could have been doing something more rewarding like shoving cement up our noses.
3. You Don't Know What You're Doing
There was a wonderful testament to the current regime after a mere 60 seconds of the match. Anton Ferdinand warmed up for this game so thoroughly that he managed to pull a hamstring the first time that he was actually required to move.
The fact that Curbishley then had the gall to list this injury as one of the reasons for our lethargy simply shows how out of touch he appears to be with the feelings of the supporters.
I for one, couldn't care less about our injury list when it gets bolstered in this sort of fashion - because either the player or the coaching staff are simply not professional enough.
Perhaps even more telling was Curbishley's response to the injury. With John Paintsil and James Tomkins on the bench and a central defender injured, he chose to send on Paintsil and shift Spector in to the middle. Objectively, I can understand this ploy given that the replacement would have been up against Kevin Davies who is never more than 30 seconds away from kicking his opponent, and Tomkins is a willowy 19 year old.
But, and it's a large one, we already know what we have in Spector (tries hard, also tries my patience) and Paintsil (cult hero, mostly due to his ineptitude). This is an unprecedented chance to trial youngsters in the heat of the Premiership without regard for the results. Certainly, I don't want to see us lose to Bolton, but I can suffer it if there is any sort of investment in the future of the team.
Sadly, Tomkins was left on the bench, Spector made the mistake that allowed Davies to score, and Paintsil helped to improve Lucas Neill's reputation. And we are no closer to knowing what the future might hold.
4. We're Shit But We're Staying Up
It's hard to know which is a more damning indictment of modern football. That this appalling Bolton side had a decent UEFA Cup run earlier this season, or that this appalling West Ham team has comfortably stayed in the top half of the Premier League all year.
I have little sympathy for Bolton's plight. The type of football that they play is about as aesthetically pleasing as a Heather Mills press interview, and I will certainly not mourn the absence of the Reebok stadium from our away trips. That said, they were significantly better than us today. Sure, it was all long balls and elbows but they're Bolton fer Chrissakes, not the re-incarnation of Brazil '84.
Our distaste for any kind of physical battle was obvious as early as the first Bolton attack which required Spector to make a nifty clearance from under his own bar as the rest of his colleagues stood around comparing their mudless knees.
I'd tell you more, but truthfully, what would be the point? The players have been on holiday since we reached 40 points, as evidenced by the fact that we have scored just 5 goals in our last 9 games, of which one was deflected and another required Nolberto Solano to boot Antti Niemi in the head. At this point I think I'd have more respect for Curbishley if he simply came out and admitted that he can't be bothered, and he's booked a trip to the Seychelles that he is really quite looking forward to.
5. We Want A Second Striker
Trying to determine what on earth was happening with our tactics in this game would take a far more intelligent being than I, like say Stephen Hawking or Deep Blue.
Encouragingly we began this game with two strikers, but rather less encouragingly still began the game with 5 men playing in midfield. For some brain-warping reason, the very left footed Bobby Zamora was deployed on the very right hand side of our team, which rather awesomely nullified both at once. If you ever attempted to send this particular formation out to play on a PC Football Manager type game the system simply wouldn't let you as it is too ludicrous to even consider.
Things then took a turn for the mental as we made our first substitution - replacing debutant midfielder Jack Collison with striker Carlton Cole. So far, so splendid you might imagine. Except that right footed centre forward Cole was stranded out on the left, Zamora was still bemused on the right, and Luis Boa Morte was inexplicably moved into the middle in ersatz support of the very lonely Dean Ashton.
So, just to recap, that's 5 in midfield, comprised of 2 midfielders (Parker & Mullins), 2 centre forwards playing wide (Zamora & Cole) and Boa Morte who barely qualifies as a homosapien at this point.
Our last change was to replace the tiring Zamora with Freddie Sears. Cole was switched over to the right to ensure that we were still wasting at least one of our strikers, and Sears was employed alongside Ashton. There was an immediate upturn in our fortunes as the youngster appeared to cotton on to the fact that Bolton are a fucking terrible defensive team.
Naturally, we didn't score.
6. Too Fucking Negative
Just in case you missed that last point, please let me re-iterate. We failed to score against a defence containing Andy O'Brien, a man who wasn't a good enough defender.........for Newcastle.
7. Sign Him Up
Kevin Davies has now scored a whopping four goals this year to really enforce the notion that any description of him as a "striker" must always come with inverted comma's. One little addendum to that fact, however, is a real pearler. In his last 37 games against all teams in the Universe other than West Ham, Davies has scored 3 goals. In his last 5 games against us he has scored 5 times.
At this point may I suggest that we buy him, simply so that he will never play against us again.
8. We Are West Hams Claret And Blue Army
It's tough to know exactly where we go from here. Next week we face a Derby team who appear to have been sent from God in order to prevent Premiership teams from having bad runs, and consequently it would seem logical to assume that we will get back to winning ways soon. But that would simply be papering over the cracks. I will re-iterate my call for Curbishley to go in the summer once again, because I love a futile gesture, but there is a deeper malaise here.
I cannot really understand how our owners could look favourably at Curbishley's consistent record of achieving mid table safety, before sliding into the dead mans land of 12th-14th. I'm sure there are psychoanalysts out there who might better be able to explain this pattern, but my uneducated view would be that such a huge emphasis has been placed on achieving safety, that the emotional high of doing so has now led to this hopeless slide into abject crappiness.
Either way, after 15 years of repeating this trend, Curbishley seems no closer to resolving the problem. I'd like to think he is aware of this, but if he is then it's not translating into anything different on the pitch. Except, maybe, for Hayden Mullins taking our set pieces. Which should stop. Now.
9. Boo!
Another deluxe performance from Luis Boa Morte this week. Somewhat controversially he eschewed traditional football gear once more, and this time proceeded with a pair of moon boots. Not the popular fashion accessory, mind, but the actual lead based NASA designed line as worn by Armstrong, Aldrin et al.
Many Hammers fans like to mock Boa Morte and claim that his second touch is always a tackle. To me this isn't true. I dream of the day that his first touch keeps the ball close enough to him that he could make a tackle. Usually it bounces off him into another postal district. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen a human being with abilities less suited to being a professional footballer than this man.
Consider this. Just before Dean Ashton rattled the Bolton crossbar in our only decent move of the week, Boa Morte had the ball drop to him, on his favoured left foot, seven yards from goal with only a man on the line to beat.
Unsurprisingly he shot straight at the defender and the chance was lost. This, however, wasn't the worst of it - the shot wasn't blocked off the line, it was kicked off the line. Just consider how bad your technique has to be to strike a ball so lamely from 7 yards out that the opposition player has time to weigh it up, adjust his body and swing at the ball.
There are arachnids out there who are more talented than this man. Enough is enough is enough....
I should have realised that this was going to be an ill fated trip, when I somehow managed to confuse our 12 year old mascot with Freddie Sears during the warm up. This lead to a brief outburst of optimism amongst my row which would not be repeated for the rest of the day.
This was easily the worst game of football I have seen since, oh I don't know, Tuesday.
(*) Today's H List headers are brought to you by the Upton Park Community Choir - Travelling Section
2. Are We Charlton In Disguise?
To describe this performance as listless and insipid would simply not do it justice. This was the footballing equivalent of being slapped around the head with a large bag of apples.
Of course, being Curbishley-era West Ham it was caked in that extra layer of shit to really make the whole thing utterly unpalatable. I'm not sure how many more times I can object to performances like this before you all switch your allegiance to another West Ham blog in protest at my constant negativity.
My biggest complaint about this day is that the players weren't outside the ground handing out money back to the 3,000 fans who wasted a day going to watch this crap when we could have been doing something more rewarding like shoving cement up our noses.
3. You Don't Know What You're Doing
There was a wonderful testament to the current regime after a mere 60 seconds of the match. Anton Ferdinand warmed up for this game so thoroughly that he managed to pull a hamstring the first time that he was actually required to move.
The fact that Curbishley then had the gall to list this injury as one of the reasons for our lethargy simply shows how out of touch he appears to be with the feelings of the supporters.
I for one, couldn't care less about our injury list when it gets bolstered in this sort of fashion - because either the player or the coaching staff are simply not professional enough.
Perhaps even more telling was Curbishley's response to the injury. With John Paintsil and James Tomkins on the bench and a central defender injured, he chose to send on Paintsil and shift Spector in to the middle. Objectively, I can understand this ploy given that the replacement would have been up against Kevin Davies who is never more than 30 seconds away from kicking his opponent, and Tomkins is a willowy 19 year old.
But, and it's a large one, we already know what we have in Spector (tries hard, also tries my patience) and Paintsil (cult hero, mostly due to his ineptitude). This is an unprecedented chance to trial youngsters in the heat of the Premiership without regard for the results. Certainly, I don't want to see us lose to Bolton, but I can suffer it if there is any sort of investment in the future of the team.
Sadly, Tomkins was left on the bench, Spector made the mistake that allowed Davies to score, and Paintsil helped to improve Lucas Neill's reputation. And we are no closer to knowing what the future might hold.
4. We're Shit But We're Staying Up
It's hard to know which is a more damning indictment of modern football. That this appalling Bolton side had a decent UEFA Cup run earlier this season, or that this appalling West Ham team has comfortably stayed in the top half of the Premier League all year.
I have little sympathy for Bolton's plight. The type of football that they play is about as aesthetically pleasing as a Heather Mills press interview, and I will certainly not mourn the absence of the Reebok stadium from our away trips. That said, they were significantly better than us today. Sure, it was all long balls and elbows but they're Bolton fer Chrissakes, not the re-incarnation of Brazil '84.
Our distaste for any kind of physical battle was obvious as early as the first Bolton attack which required Spector to make a nifty clearance from under his own bar as the rest of his colleagues stood around comparing their mudless knees.
I'd tell you more, but truthfully, what would be the point? The players have been on holiday since we reached 40 points, as evidenced by the fact that we have scored just 5 goals in our last 9 games, of which one was deflected and another required Nolberto Solano to boot Antti Niemi in the head. At this point I think I'd have more respect for Curbishley if he simply came out and admitted that he can't be bothered, and he's booked a trip to the Seychelles that he is really quite looking forward to.
5. We Want A Second Striker
Trying to determine what on earth was happening with our tactics in this game would take a far more intelligent being than I, like say Stephen Hawking or Deep Blue.
Encouragingly we began this game with two strikers, but rather less encouragingly still began the game with 5 men playing in midfield. For some brain-warping reason, the very left footed Bobby Zamora was deployed on the very right hand side of our team, which rather awesomely nullified both at once. If you ever attempted to send this particular formation out to play on a PC Football Manager type game the system simply wouldn't let you as it is too ludicrous to even consider.
Things then took a turn for the mental as we made our first substitution - replacing debutant midfielder Jack Collison with striker Carlton Cole. So far, so splendid you might imagine. Except that right footed centre forward Cole was stranded out on the left, Zamora was still bemused on the right, and Luis Boa Morte was inexplicably moved into the middle in ersatz support of the very lonely Dean Ashton.
So, just to recap, that's 5 in midfield, comprised of 2 midfielders (Parker & Mullins), 2 centre forwards playing wide (Zamora & Cole) and Boa Morte who barely qualifies as a homosapien at this point.
Our last change was to replace the tiring Zamora with Freddie Sears. Cole was switched over to the right to ensure that we were still wasting at least one of our strikers, and Sears was employed alongside Ashton. There was an immediate upturn in our fortunes as the youngster appeared to cotton on to the fact that Bolton are a fucking terrible defensive team.
Naturally, we didn't score.
6. Too Fucking Negative
Just in case you missed that last point, please let me re-iterate. We failed to score against a defence containing Andy O'Brien, a man who wasn't a good enough defender.........for Newcastle.
7. Sign Him Up
Kevin Davies has now scored a whopping four goals this year to really enforce the notion that any description of him as a "striker" must always come with inverted comma's. One little addendum to that fact, however, is a real pearler. In his last 37 games against all teams in the Universe other than West Ham, Davies has scored 3 goals. In his last 5 games against us he has scored 5 times.
At this point may I suggest that we buy him, simply so that he will never play against us again.
8. We Are West Hams Claret And Blue Army
It's tough to know exactly where we go from here. Next week we face a Derby team who appear to have been sent from God in order to prevent Premiership teams from having bad runs, and consequently it would seem logical to assume that we will get back to winning ways soon. But that would simply be papering over the cracks. I will re-iterate my call for Curbishley to go in the summer once again, because I love a futile gesture, but there is a deeper malaise here.
I cannot really understand how our owners could look favourably at Curbishley's consistent record of achieving mid table safety, before sliding into the dead mans land of 12th-14th. I'm sure there are psychoanalysts out there who might better be able to explain this pattern, but my uneducated view would be that such a huge emphasis has been placed on achieving safety, that the emotional high of doing so has now led to this hopeless slide into abject crappiness.
Either way, after 15 years of repeating this trend, Curbishley seems no closer to resolving the problem. I'd like to think he is aware of this, but if he is then it's not translating into anything different on the pitch. Except, maybe, for Hayden Mullins taking our set pieces. Which should stop. Now.
9. Boo!
Another deluxe performance from Luis Boa Morte this week. Somewhat controversially he eschewed traditional football gear once more, and this time proceeded with a pair of moon boots. Not the popular fashion accessory, mind, but the actual lead based NASA designed line as worn by Armstrong, Aldrin et al.
Many Hammers fans like to mock Boa Morte and claim that his second touch is always a tackle. To me this isn't true. I dream of the day that his first touch keeps the ball close enough to him that he could make a tackle. Usually it bounces off him into another postal district. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen a human being with abilities less suited to being a professional footballer than this man.
Consider this. Just before Dean Ashton rattled the Bolton crossbar in our only decent move of the week, Boa Morte had the ball drop to him, on his favoured left foot, seven yards from goal with only a man on the line to beat.
Unsurprisingly he shot straight at the defender and the chance was lost. This, however, wasn't the worst of it - the shot wasn't blocked off the line, it was kicked off the line. Just consider how bad your technique has to be to strike a ball so lamely from 7 yards out that the opposition player has time to weigh it up, adjust his body and swing at the ball.
There are arachnids out there who are more talented than this man. Enough is enough is enough....
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
West Ham 0 - 1 Portsmouth (And Other Ramblings)
1. Pens At The Ready
Anyone out there fancy a game of "Alan Curbishley Late Season Bingo"?
"Boredom?" - Check, "Mid Table Mediocrity Followed By Inevitable Slide Down The Table?" - You Betcha, "Already Wishing It Was Next Year?" - Yep, "Keep Expecting To Look Over And See Roeder On The Touchline?" - Right On, "Curbishley Promising Not To Let The Season Fizzle Out?" - Yessir, "Worst Home Performance Since The Battle Of Hastings?" - HOUSE!
2. Let's Cuddle In A Huddle
The start of both halves of this game were delayed for 15 minutes by the longest ever known recorded session of high fives and manly hugs from Portsmouth.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm a new man. I moisturise sporadically, I make charitable contributions and allow Mrs Shark to vote occasionally, but this was unbelievable. Boy, were these fellows determined to truly emphasise that they were in this together or what?
NB: Watching Papa Dioup hug David James is like seeing two redwood trees falling into one another.
3. The Statistics
Trying to analyse this game in any great depth is challenging given the fact that this requires me to remember elements of it. This is especially vexing given the cruel and unusual punishment that was watching the game in the first place.
Despite having the bulk of possession with 52%, we converted this into nary a decent chance at all. Bobby Zamora did briefly threaten competence at one point but quickly reverted to Boa Mortian levels of performance and blew all his chances.
Both sides managed 17 shots on target between them, which just highlights the relative lack of merit of statistics because neither keeper had a difficult shot to save right up until Portsmouth scored.
Bear in mind also, that the visitors won this game comfortably despite doing absolutely nothing of merit in the first 35 minutes of the match.
4. The Opposition
I note from looking at my notes of some previous games that I once said the following about Everton - "Everton are enormous. It is quite possible that their corner routines can be seen from outer space".
Well let me now add that Everton look up to Portsmouth. They wonder what the air is like up where Portsmouth are. Portsmouth hang Everton on their coat hook and steal their lunch money. Sweet Jesus, they are huge. I would describe Papa Diop as Herculean, but for the fact that it simply isn't a butch enough verb.
All of that being true shouldn't detract from the fact that Portsmouth were significantly better than us, in much the same way that eating a fish is significantly better than being eaten by a fish. Even without Defoe, Utaka, Baros and Diarra they were much more effective in going forward, so much so that Niko Krancjar's splendid winning goal was utterly predictable. We -
5. This Interruption Is Sponsored By Englishmen Everywhere
Hang on a minute. I thought that sometime last November we had decided, as a nation, that giving Niko Krancjar the ball on the edge of our box and allowing him to shoot was a stunningly ill conceived idea? Certainly no dumber than allowing Steve MacLaren or Scott Carson anywhere near our national side, but a ridiculous ploy none the less.
Interestingly, Krancjar appears perfectly capable of playing on the left hand side of midfield despite being predominantly right footed. I note this because this skill seems to have eluded the entire male population of England, with the honourable exception of Joe Cole - who can also do it, and Stewart Downing - who is neither left or right footed.
6. Meanwhile, Back At The Article
The notion of a Harry Redknapp side that is well organised and defensively sound is basically insane if you spent any time watching his West Ham sides. Credit for this presumably resides with Tony Adams, who despite being the most boring TV analyst in the Universe, is clearly a man who knows his way around an offside trap.
It should also be noted that whilst attack may very well be the best form of defence, it could be argued that the next best option is to let Bobby Zamora have the ball (More on that later).
7. The Referee
Considering that this was one of the dullest games of association football ever played, it would have taken a fairly incompetent referee to make anything of it. Lee Probert did a reasonable job, letting play continue on the numerous occasions that Papa Boupa Diop fell to the floor writhing in pseudo agony.
Tellingly there was not even a single yellow card, despite the presence of Hermann Hreidarsson on the pitch, a man who views the headlock as a valid defensive tactic.
8. Formation Blues
We finished this game with a midfield of John Paintsil, Scott Parker, Luis Boa Morte and Carlton Cole. This is a combination so utterly incomprehensible to me that it can only have been arrived at using the unholy combination of a bottle of Peach Schnapps: a blindfold: a pin and our squad photograph.
9. Bobby Prize
Let me be clear that it is good to see Bobby Zamora back in action. For all his faults, he brings a mix of liveliness and mobility to our forward line that has been largely absent this year. Clearly he is short of match practice and will need some more time before he is back in the swing of things, but Great Holy Moly exactly how did he miss that chance on the first half?
I'll admit that it was nice to see him wander round David James, even if it relied more on luck than judgement, but Bobby then somehow contrived to strike the ball at the only possible angle which would have resulted in anything other than a goal.
Professional strikers will miss open goals from time to time due to statistical probability, but in a tense (or more accurately, interminably dull) 0-0 draw, it is unwise to spurn chances that present themselves wrapped in a bright shiny bow.
10. Luis Boa Morte Footwear Update
Luis braved the elements and appeared for this game wearing some brand spanking new roller blades. These came in very handy when he nimbly turned Glen Johnson early in the first half before shooting lamely at David James.
This so impressed Alan Curbishley that he decided to play him in central midfield. As The Stone Roses would say far better than I can - "There are no words, to describe the way I feel........."
Anyone out there fancy a game of "Alan Curbishley Late Season Bingo"?
"Boredom?" - Check, "Mid Table Mediocrity Followed By Inevitable Slide Down The Table?" - You Betcha, "Already Wishing It Was Next Year?" - Yep, "Keep Expecting To Look Over And See Roeder On The Touchline?" - Right On, "Curbishley Promising Not To Let The Season Fizzle Out?" - Yessir, "Worst Home Performance Since The Battle Of Hastings?" - HOUSE!
2. Let's Cuddle In A Huddle
The start of both halves of this game were delayed for 15 minutes by the longest ever known recorded session of high fives and manly hugs from Portsmouth.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm a new man. I moisturise sporadically, I make charitable contributions and allow Mrs Shark to vote occasionally, but this was unbelievable. Boy, were these fellows determined to truly emphasise that they were in this together or what?
NB: Watching Papa Dioup hug David James is like seeing two redwood trees falling into one another.
3. The Statistics
Trying to analyse this game in any great depth is challenging given the fact that this requires me to remember elements of it. This is especially vexing given the cruel and unusual punishment that was watching the game in the first place.
Despite having the bulk of possession with 52%, we converted this into nary a decent chance at all. Bobby Zamora did briefly threaten competence at one point but quickly reverted to Boa Mortian levels of performance and blew all his chances.
Both sides managed 17 shots on target between them, which just highlights the relative lack of merit of statistics because neither keeper had a difficult shot to save right up until Portsmouth scored.
Bear in mind also, that the visitors won this game comfortably despite doing absolutely nothing of merit in the first 35 minutes of the match.
4. The Opposition
I note from looking at my notes of some previous games that I once said the following about Everton - "Everton are enormous. It is quite possible that their corner routines can be seen from outer space".
Well let me now add that Everton look up to Portsmouth. They wonder what the air is like up where Portsmouth are. Portsmouth hang Everton on their coat hook and steal their lunch money. Sweet Jesus, they are huge. I would describe Papa Diop as Herculean, but for the fact that it simply isn't a butch enough verb.
All of that being true shouldn't detract from the fact that Portsmouth were significantly better than us, in much the same way that eating a fish is significantly better than being eaten by a fish. Even without Defoe, Utaka, Baros and Diarra they were much more effective in going forward, so much so that Niko Krancjar's splendid winning goal was utterly predictable. We -
5. This Interruption Is Sponsored By Englishmen Everywhere
Hang on a minute. I thought that sometime last November we had decided, as a nation, that giving Niko Krancjar the ball on the edge of our box and allowing him to shoot was a stunningly ill conceived idea? Certainly no dumber than allowing Steve MacLaren or Scott Carson anywhere near our national side, but a ridiculous ploy none the less.
Interestingly, Krancjar appears perfectly capable of playing on the left hand side of midfield despite being predominantly right footed. I note this because this skill seems to have eluded the entire male population of England, with the honourable exception of Joe Cole - who can also do it, and Stewart Downing - who is neither left or right footed.
6. Meanwhile, Back At The Article
The notion of a Harry Redknapp side that is well organised and defensively sound is basically insane if you spent any time watching his West Ham sides. Credit for this presumably resides with Tony Adams, who despite being the most boring TV analyst in the Universe, is clearly a man who knows his way around an offside trap.
It should also be noted that whilst attack may very well be the best form of defence, it could be argued that the next best option is to let Bobby Zamora have the ball (More on that later).
7. The Referee
Considering that this was one of the dullest games of association football ever played, it would have taken a fairly incompetent referee to make anything of it. Lee Probert did a reasonable job, letting play continue on the numerous occasions that Papa Boupa Diop fell to the floor writhing in pseudo agony.
Tellingly there was not even a single yellow card, despite the presence of Hermann Hreidarsson on the pitch, a man who views the headlock as a valid defensive tactic.
8. Formation Blues
We finished this game with a midfield of John Paintsil, Scott Parker, Luis Boa Morte and Carlton Cole. This is a combination so utterly incomprehensible to me that it can only have been arrived at using the unholy combination of a bottle of Peach Schnapps: a blindfold: a pin and our squad photograph.
9. Bobby Prize
Let me be clear that it is good to see Bobby Zamora back in action. For all his faults, he brings a mix of liveliness and mobility to our forward line that has been largely absent this year. Clearly he is short of match practice and will need some more time before he is back in the swing of things, but Great Holy Moly exactly how did he miss that chance on the first half?
I'll admit that it was nice to see him wander round David James, even if it relied more on luck than judgement, but Bobby then somehow contrived to strike the ball at the only possible angle which would have resulted in anything other than a goal.
Professional strikers will miss open goals from time to time due to statistical probability, but in a tense (or more accurately, interminably dull) 0-0 draw, it is unwise to spurn chances that present themselves wrapped in a bright shiny bow.
10. Luis Boa Morte Footwear Update
Luis braved the elements and appeared for this game wearing some brand spanking new roller blades. These came in very handy when he nimbly turned Glen Johnson early in the first half before shooting lamely at David James.
This so impressed Alan Curbishley that he decided to play him in central midfield. As The Stone Roses would say far better than I can - "There are no words, to describe the way I feel........."
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Sunderland 2 - 1 West Ham (And Other Ramblings)
1. A Preview To A Kill
If I had known that Sunderland had not won back to back Premier League matches during a run stretching over their last 126 games, then I would not even have bothered worrying about this game. West Ham exist almost solely to break records like this.
If only there was a website somewhere that provided previews of our matches where I could find out interesting titbits such as this, that would be a genius idea.
In any event, we duly obliged with some suitably porous defending in the last minute and here we are, me writing about, and you reading about a game so lamentably pointless that it's a wonder it wasn't shown on Channel 5.
And on the subject of previews - is John Paintsil really Nigerian?
2. In Case You're Wondering
I'm sure some of you are thinking - "Hmm, 126 games. Where have I heard that figure before?". To put you out of your misery, this is exactly the number of matches missed by Craig Bellamy as a result of his ongoing "minor" stomach problem.
Apparently the decision by our crack medical team to resolve this problem using an industrial saw, a jar of aniseed and a shot of whiskey appears to have backfired spectacularly.
3. The Statistics
For a game that was settled in it's dying moments, the statistics show a markedly different set of circumstances. We mustered just ten shots on goal all day, whilst human fungus Daryl Murphy managed EIGHT on his own for Sunderland. Daryl Murphy! My appendix is more useful than this man fer cryin' out loud.
In all, the home side managed 22 shots at goal, with 12 on target in addition to forcing 13 corners. All of this despite having the ball for 49% of the time. This isn't all that surprising given that when Sunderland get the ball they don't waste any time with fancy dan nonsense like passing and moving and instead launch it as far into the stratosphere as they can.
Weirdly, the game itself was more even than these figures might reflect, essentially because Daryl Murphy was doing a lot of the shooting. There you go, they had a lot of pressure and in the end it told. I'm not going to pretend that losing to Sunderland is especially palatable but I've spent more than enough time watching West Ham to realise that things like this happen. A lot.
4. The Opposition
I have no respect for Sunderland. I'm not going to lie, for I don't imagine that they have a great deal of love for me either. But here's the thing. I will grudgingly admit that they have extracted a lot from very little. It seems inconceivable to me that a team with Nyron Nosworthy in their back four could ever possibly stay in the division but hey, the Swiss won the Americas Cup I guess.
Anyway, their rickety defence aside, the Black Cats did enough to win this game, largely through random acts of violence and aerial superiority. A sort of North East "Operation Desert Storm" if you will.
I am convinced they will remain in the division and contribute absolutely nothing to English football once again next year. Which is a shame as Derby at the very least are good for comedy defending and managerial sex scandals.
5. The Referee
Given that Sunderland employ a "kick first/operate later" policy it would be fair to say that this game should have been fairly bloody. As it turned out that wasn't especially true, despite the odd industrial tackle from the home side.
True, we did finish the game with ten men due to injuries, but that can be attributed as much to our own policy of employing men with no hamstrings, as to anything done by the home side. Just in case any one from the club is reading this - I am just about ready for our players to stop re-enacting Ypres every Saturday, and equally ready for the club's medical staff to use some 21st century medical techniques.
6. In Defence Of The Defence
We don't seem to be doing clean sheets any more. I can't say for certain why that is exactly, but the absence of Matthew Upson's beard would have to be a factor. So too would Not Marking Kenwyne Jones when he was standing approximately 2 feet from our goal line. I am not quite sure why our centre halves pursued this course of action, but they did and it was soon 1-1.
On the subject of Jones, he looks a splendid player. Against us.
He has now scored 6 goals this season, which is positively Kuytian for a Premier League striker. Sadly he has now scored one third of those goals against us, and frankly could have had loads more based on our clearly defined policy of not venturing anywhere near him.
If I appear to be blaming our defence for this defeat then let me quash that notion now. Any side that cannot score more than twice against a defence like this (See: Nosworthy, Nyron - paragraph 4) should be ashamed, but it would certainly help our cause if we did a bit of professional defending occasionally.
7. And On That Subject
Imagine you are Anton Ferdinand. This is tough for most humans, who may as well imagine they are a wildebeest for all the frame of reference they would have. But try anyway.
You are drawing 1-1 in an inconsequential away game at Sunderland with nary 30 seconds to go. The ball is lofted in to the box, which doesn't surprise you, and you have two choices.
a) Head the ball in to the vast expanse of grass outside your area
b) Head the ball straight to a small, chubby man standing 5 feet away
Now I'm not disputing that Andy Reid is a semi talented footballer but he resembles an athlete in the same way that I look like a lingerie model. He could stand to lose a few pounds is all.
Anyway, Anton chose option b) for some reason, and Reid chose not to eat the ball and instead volleyed it home rather neatly.
In the grand scheme of life, losing to a late goal is galling but simply one of those things. It was unfortunate that the ball landed at the feet of a man, who despite being so tubby he appears to be permanently in the midst of falling of a horse, does possess a sweet left foot.
I would not, however, have objected if Anton had wanted to use his neck muscles there.
8. Attack Atack Attack. And Then Stop.
I suppose I shouldn't paint too negative a picture of this game, given that we dominated all of the early play, culminating in Ljungberg's deflected but deserved opening goal. Dean Ashton then followed up with a splendid effort that crashed back off the post, before Carlton Cole was denied by a stunning save from Craig Gordon(*).
(*) Stunning in the sense that I had no idea Carlton Cole could hit a curling shot into the top corner from twenty yards, and I sure as hell had no idea that Craig Gordon had the ability to stop anything.
Thereafter, we simply reverted to pure tedium and waited for injuries to take their toll. Sure enough with ten minutes to go and all the substitutes on, Freddie Ljungberg's hamstring decided to break for freedom and detach itself from the rest of his body, and suddenly we were down to ten men.
Injuries of course are a necessary evil, but my point here is that when we are playing meaningless games away from home with no pressure on us I would rather lose the game through over committing ourselves to attacking, than lose the game through trying to cling on to a fairly worthless point.
9. Freddie Sears - West Ham Legend
Want proof that Freddie Sears has what it takes to become part of West Ham folklore? He's played 55 minutes, and missed this game through injury.
I can see Craig Bellamy nodding in approval.
10. Luis Boa Morte Footwear Update
I'm afraid that I cannot say for certain what Luis was sporting on his feet this week given that he was restricted to the bench, after Alan Curbishley surprisingly left him out. Perhaps Boa Morte has given his kids back.
Anyway, rumours are that he was wearing a pair of wellington boots.
11. Get Real!
I mulled over whether to include this last item or not, but I thought "Why not, it's my blog and you're not paying anything to read it you ungrateful bastards".
Reality TV, as we all know, is garbage, with the honourable exception of America's Next Top Model which is not so much Reality TV as a biting socio-economic commentary on Bush era America. However, I wanted to direct you to another show currently on the air.
This is only a West Ham story by default really, but I wanted to mention BBC1's brilliant new series of The Apprentice, which is currently on our screens. Aside from being the best television show ever made there is an added bonus this year in the shape of West Ham fan, Simon Smith, who is competing.
If, like me, you waste substantial parts of your life on the various West Ham forums then you will doubtless know of Simon. I do not claim to be a friend, or even an acquaintance, but from everything I know he is a genuine Hammer and deserves our support (Not that we can give him any as it's a bloody television show that was filmed last year, but I thought I'd mention it anyway).
He deserves your affection, if only for not being a certified loon like most of them - witness him not trying to charge someone £5,000 to do some laundry this week.
If I had known that Sunderland had not won back to back Premier League matches during a run stretching over their last 126 games, then I would not even have bothered worrying about this game. West Ham exist almost solely to break records like this.
If only there was a website somewhere that provided previews of our matches where I could find out interesting titbits such as this, that would be a genius idea.
In any event, we duly obliged with some suitably porous defending in the last minute and here we are, me writing about, and you reading about a game so lamentably pointless that it's a wonder it wasn't shown on Channel 5.
And on the subject of previews - is John Paintsil really Nigerian?
2. In Case You're Wondering
I'm sure some of you are thinking - "Hmm, 126 games. Where have I heard that figure before?". To put you out of your misery, this is exactly the number of matches missed by Craig Bellamy as a result of his ongoing "minor" stomach problem.
Apparently the decision by our crack medical team to resolve this problem using an industrial saw, a jar of aniseed and a shot of whiskey appears to have backfired spectacularly.
3. The Statistics
For a game that was settled in it's dying moments, the statistics show a markedly different set of circumstances. We mustered just ten shots on goal all day, whilst human fungus Daryl Murphy managed EIGHT on his own for Sunderland. Daryl Murphy! My appendix is more useful than this man fer cryin' out loud.
In all, the home side managed 22 shots at goal, with 12 on target in addition to forcing 13 corners. All of this despite having the ball for 49% of the time. This isn't all that surprising given that when Sunderland get the ball they don't waste any time with fancy dan nonsense like passing and moving and instead launch it as far into the stratosphere as they can.
Weirdly, the game itself was more even than these figures might reflect, essentially because Daryl Murphy was doing a lot of the shooting. There you go, they had a lot of pressure and in the end it told. I'm not going to pretend that losing to Sunderland is especially palatable but I've spent more than enough time watching West Ham to realise that things like this happen. A lot.
4. The Opposition
I have no respect for Sunderland. I'm not going to lie, for I don't imagine that they have a great deal of love for me either. But here's the thing. I will grudgingly admit that they have extracted a lot from very little. It seems inconceivable to me that a team with Nyron Nosworthy in their back four could ever possibly stay in the division but hey, the Swiss won the Americas Cup I guess.
Anyway, their rickety defence aside, the Black Cats did enough to win this game, largely through random acts of violence and aerial superiority. A sort of North East "Operation Desert Storm" if you will.
I am convinced they will remain in the division and contribute absolutely nothing to English football once again next year. Which is a shame as Derby at the very least are good for comedy defending and managerial sex scandals.
5. The Referee
Given that Sunderland employ a "kick first/operate later" policy it would be fair to say that this game should have been fairly bloody. As it turned out that wasn't especially true, despite the odd industrial tackle from the home side.
True, we did finish the game with ten men due to injuries, but that can be attributed as much to our own policy of employing men with no hamstrings, as to anything done by the home side. Just in case any one from the club is reading this - I am just about ready for our players to stop re-enacting Ypres every Saturday, and equally ready for the club's medical staff to use some 21st century medical techniques.
6. In Defence Of The Defence
We don't seem to be doing clean sheets any more. I can't say for certain why that is exactly, but the absence of Matthew Upson's beard would have to be a factor. So too would Not Marking Kenwyne Jones when he was standing approximately 2 feet from our goal line. I am not quite sure why our centre halves pursued this course of action, but they did and it was soon 1-1.
On the subject of Jones, he looks a splendid player. Against us.
He has now scored 6 goals this season, which is positively Kuytian for a Premier League striker. Sadly he has now scored one third of those goals against us, and frankly could have had loads more based on our clearly defined policy of not venturing anywhere near him.
If I appear to be blaming our defence for this defeat then let me quash that notion now. Any side that cannot score more than twice against a defence like this (See: Nosworthy, Nyron - paragraph 4) should be ashamed, but it would certainly help our cause if we did a bit of professional defending occasionally.
7. And On That Subject
Imagine you are Anton Ferdinand. This is tough for most humans, who may as well imagine they are a wildebeest for all the frame of reference they would have. But try anyway.
You are drawing 1-1 in an inconsequential away game at Sunderland with nary 30 seconds to go. The ball is lofted in to the box, which doesn't surprise you, and you have two choices.
a) Head the ball in to the vast expanse of grass outside your area
b) Head the ball straight to a small, chubby man standing 5 feet away
Now I'm not disputing that Andy Reid is a semi talented footballer but he resembles an athlete in the same way that I look like a lingerie model. He could stand to lose a few pounds is all.
Anyway, Anton chose option b) for some reason, and Reid chose not to eat the ball and instead volleyed it home rather neatly.
In the grand scheme of life, losing to a late goal is galling but simply one of those things. It was unfortunate that the ball landed at the feet of a man, who despite being so tubby he appears to be permanently in the midst of falling of a horse, does possess a sweet left foot.
I would not, however, have objected if Anton had wanted to use his neck muscles there.
8. Attack Atack Attack. And Then Stop.
I suppose I shouldn't paint too negative a picture of this game, given that we dominated all of the early play, culminating in Ljungberg's deflected but deserved opening goal. Dean Ashton then followed up with a splendid effort that crashed back off the post, before Carlton Cole was denied by a stunning save from Craig Gordon(*).
(*) Stunning in the sense that I had no idea Carlton Cole could hit a curling shot into the top corner from twenty yards, and I sure as hell had no idea that Craig Gordon had the ability to stop anything.
Thereafter, we simply reverted to pure tedium and waited for injuries to take their toll. Sure enough with ten minutes to go and all the substitutes on, Freddie Ljungberg's hamstring decided to break for freedom and detach itself from the rest of his body, and suddenly we were down to ten men.
Injuries of course are a necessary evil, but my point here is that when we are playing meaningless games away from home with no pressure on us I would rather lose the game through over committing ourselves to attacking, than lose the game through trying to cling on to a fairly worthless point.
9. Freddie Sears - West Ham Legend
Want proof that Freddie Sears has what it takes to become part of West Ham folklore? He's played 55 minutes, and missed this game through injury.
I can see Craig Bellamy nodding in approval.
10. Luis Boa Morte Footwear Update
I'm afraid that I cannot say for certain what Luis was sporting on his feet this week given that he was restricted to the bench, after Alan Curbishley surprisingly left him out. Perhaps Boa Morte has given his kids back.
Anyway, rumours are that he was wearing a pair of wellington boots.
11. Get Real!
I mulled over whether to include this last item or not, but I thought "Why not, it's my blog and you're not paying anything to read it you ungrateful bastards".
Reality TV, as we all know, is garbage, with the honourable exception of America's Next Top Model which is not so much Reality TV as a biting socio-economic commentary on Bush era America. However, I wanted to direct you to another show currently on the air.
This is only a West Ham story by default really, but I wanted to mention BBC1's brilliant new series of The Apprentice, which is currently on our screens. Aside from being the best television show ever made there is an added bonus this year in the shape of West Ham fan, Simon Smith, who is competing.
If, like me, you waste substantial parts of your life on the various West Ham forums then you will doubtless know of Simon. I do not claim to be a friend, or even an acquaintance, but from everything I know he is a genuine Hammer and deserves our support (Not that we can give him any as it's a bloody television show that was filmed last year, but I thought I'd mention it anyway).
He deserves your affection, if only for not being a certified loon like most of them - witness him not trying to charge someone £5,000 to do some laundry this week.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Everton 1 - 1 West Ham (And Other Ramblings)
1. To Be Fair To The Lads
I don't know whether any of you had the dubious pleasure of watching this game via the wonderful medium of Setanta Sports, but it went a little something like this:
"Hi everyone, welcome to EVERTON! They're going for 4th place you know, in direct competition with LIVERPOOL! And they're both from the same city - LIVERPOOL! And next week they're playing each other - God, I wish we were showing that game. Oh well, at least we've got EVERTON this week and they've got YAKUBU and he's great. Boy, he reminds me of a guy I used to go to school with. Anyway, they're playing.....erm, Christ who are they playing Steve? Do we really have to mention them? Oh alright, they're playing........LIVERPOOL! Oh no hang on, that's next week. I really do wish we were showing that game. Oh well. I think they're playing another team who look like they're wearing white."
And after the game:
"EVERTON should have won that, eh! That 2nd Yakubu goal was onside. Someone write to their MP man, that shouldn't be allowed. Yeah, I guess that West Ham hit the woodwork twice, but I don't really like London. That congestion charge thing is not something I agree with at all. I don't think EVERTON are going to get in the Champions League now.....oh the humanity, the horror, the horror......." (muffled sobs)
2. The Portugese Man Of Peace
I like to try and plan my articles and have them follow a certain path. This helps greatly with allowing me to simply recycle old tat and pass it off as new, and in theory should help me cut down the time it takes to write these. Of course as we are in the week after Easter I'm being slowed down considerably by the need to stop every three minutes for an Egg. But I digress.
The reason why I am breaking with tradition is for one very special man. Step forward Luis Boa Morte, who tonight put in quite possibly the worst display I have ever seen in a West Ham shirt, outside of Charlie Hunnam in Green Street. To that end I am going to challenge you, dear reader, to thoroughly analyse Boa Morte the next time that he plays for us.
During that time I would like you to see if, at any time, Boa Morte has the ball under control. This may seem hyperbolic, but during this game I lost count of the times that he almost had the ball under control before giving it away, at least up until the point my retina's exploded in sheer frustration. Indeed, it would not be an exaggeration to say that Luis Boa Morte did literally nothing of any value in this game apart from departing to allow Freddie Sears to come on.
I can no longer exist in a world where Boa Morte consistently plays for West Ham. Like the prospect of Robbie Williams releasing any more albums, or Josh Hartnett being in any more film adaptations of James Ellroy novels - it's just plain wrong.
Alan, please stop it. It's hurting my spleen.
3. The Statistics
Perhaps unsurprisingly the numbers for this game all suggest a very even affair. Possession was shared at 50%, along with 4 corners apiece, 3 offsides each and ten fouls from each team.
Everton shaded the shots on goal count by 7 to 4, although even that feels a little high and discounts our two efforts that rattled the woodwork.
Encouragingly Dean Ashton had 6 attempts all on his own, although less encouragingly managed to get just two on target. One of those efforts was a first half strike from barely 6 yards that he somehow put wide with the Everton back four all crowding round Phil Neville to help him with a particularly tricky Times cryptic crossword.
In short, this was the archetypal game of two halves. We were poor in the first period, although we did have some decent chances of our own, before coming out in the second half and deservedly getting our equaliser with 20 minutes to go. That we didn't go on to win says more about our ability to kill a game than it does about Everton's stoical defending.
4. The Opposition
In the week before Christmas when Everton effectively ended our season with a double over us at Upton Park, I felt then that whilst functional, they were one of the more impressive teams I had seen. Sadly for them, the long season has taken it's toll and the team we faced here were a pale shadow of the load of Masai warriors we saw previously.
With Andy Johnson absent through injury - thus proving that one can get injured pretending to be injured - and with Tim Cahill withdrawn 11 minutes into the game, and 12 minutes after being added to my Fantasy League team, they were fairly devoid of attacking ideas.
Their goal was textbook route one, with Howard clearing long for Anichebe to flick on to Yakubu who in turn bullied James Tompkins out of the way and walloped home. He was helped slightly by Tompkins misplacing his cerebrum and foolishly getting caught on the wrong side, but in fairness to the youngster that is a geometrically impressive feat given that Yakubu is perfectly cylindrical and therefore only actually has one side anyway.
Thereafter saw much weeping and gnashing of teeth after Yakubu had his second goal incorrectly disallowed, at which point the wind seemed to disappear completely from the Everton sails, and it certainly felt that our equaliser was a long time coming.
Apropos of nothing at all but the fact that Phil Neville has played over 60 times for England just highlights everything that is wrong with this country.
5. The Referee
Mark Halsey was roundly castigated by the media for failing to allow the Yakubu goal. This is largely because most people in the English media have no knowledge of football.
The referee didn't make the decision - his assistant did. Certainly he probably saw that the ball came off Anichebe and not Parker, meaning therefore if the assistant had his flag up he was perfectly correct to disallow the goal. The fact that his assistant had also misplaced his cerebrum didn't help but so far as Halsey goes, he was fairly blameless.
He also didn't award a foul against Dean Ashton at every single opportunity, as demanded by the somewhat riled Goodison crowd. I have no idea if they were offended by Deano's fetching blonde highlights, or simply his rugged good looks, but either way they were not happy.
6. The Time Is Now
Given the fact that our season has reached a catatonic plateau, the saving grace remains the appearances of youngsters Freddie Sears and James Tompkins. The latter made his debut here, and despite a few rocky moments emerged relatively unscathed. He almost had a dream start when he headed a corner against the bar after just 4 minutes. Of course, scoring from a set piece against Everton would be like trampling an elephant to death, so it was not surprising to see it stay out.
Elsewhere, he showed a pleasing composure in possession and displayed an outstanding Premier League mullet. He'll fit right in.
Sears was belatedly introduced after Curbishley lost patience with Boa Morte standing around looking perplexed by the complexities of Southland Tales, and introduced Freddie Sears on the not unreasonable assumption that a sentient being would be more useful. Almost immediately we began to show more purpose, culminating in a thumping goal from Ashton and a series of squandered opportunities that would have made the candidates on The Apprentice blush.
As the game got even more stretched we had the repeated sight of Sears running unimpeded through on goal, culminating in an agonising shot against the post with just seconds remaining. Sadly, he also decided to pay his respects to Andy Johnson with a convincing homage late in the day involving Phil Neville and a theatrical dive in the box.
Freddie, just a note. Scoring late goals - good. Diving - bad.
7. This Just In
Prolonged exposure to Freddie Sears can make Phil Jagielka sit on the floor and cry. Like a baby.
8. It Goes Ashton And On And On
Dean Ashton's equaliser deserves a paragraph all of it's own, not least because it involved an excellent piece of play by Lucas Neill to get things started. It was his deep cross that invited Ashton to soar above the truly awful Jagielka to thump home our leveller.
Given that previously this year he has been displaying all the aerial prowess of an ostrich it was certainly a pleasant surprise to see him so dominant.
His first half miss was probably a sign that he hasn't quite fully recovered his finishing touch, or an indication that he has morphed into Emile Heskey, but either way he is clearly not the player he was two years ago, but he is a hell of a lot further along than he was two months ago. And that is a cause for some celebration amidst the boredom.
9. Hey, I Forgot
In my rush to get through this weeks article, I appear to have forgotten to give you an update on Luis Boa Morte's footwear for this game. Having had a week off Luis took the daring, if ultimately misguided, decision to play this game wearing a complete scuba diving outfit. This included goggles, flippers and a full tank of oxygen.
Needless to say he was still quicker than Yakubu, but for some reason, substantially less effective.
I don't know whether any of you had the dubious pleasure of watching this game via the wonderful medium of Setanta Sports, but it went a little something like this:
"Hi everyone, welcome to EVERTON! They're going for 4th place you know, in direct competition with LIVERPOOL! And they're both from the same city - LIVERPOOL! And next week they're playing each other - God, I wish we were showing that game. Oh well, at least we've got EVERTON this week and they've got YAKUBU and he's great. Boy, he reminds me of a guy I used to go to school with. Anyway, they're playing.....erm, Christ who are they playing Steve? Do we really have to mention them? Oh alright, they're playing........LIVERPOOL! Oh no hang on, that's next week. I really do wish we were showing that game. Oh well. I think they're playing another team who look like they're wearing white."
And after the game:
"EVERTON should have won that, eh! That 2nd Yakubu goal was onside. Someone write to their MP man, that shouldn't be allowed. Yeah, I guess that West Ham hit the woodwork twice, but I don't really like London. That congestion charge thing is not something I agree with at all. I don't think EVERTON are going to get in the Champions League now.....oh the humanity, the horror, the horror......." (muffled sobs)
2. The Portugese Man Of Peace
I like to try and plan my articles and have them follow a certain path. This helps greatly with allowing me to simply recycle old tat and pass it off as new, and in theory should help me cut down the time it takes to write these. Of course as we are in the week after Easter I'm being slowed down considerably by the need to stop every three minutes for an Egg. But I digress.
The reason why I am breaking with tradition is for one very special man. Step forward Luis Boa Morte, who tonight put in quite possibly the worst display I have ever seen in a West Ham shirt, outside of Charlie Hunnam in Green Street. To that end I am going to challenge you, dear reader, to thoroughly analyse Boa Morte the next time that he plays for us.
During that time I would like you to see if, at any time, Boa Morte has the ball under control. This may seem hyperbolic, but during this game I lost count of the times that he almost had the ball under control before giving it away, at least up until the point my retina's exploded in sheer frustration. Indeed, it would not be an exaggeration to say that Luis Boa Morte did literally nothing of any value in this game apart from departing to allow Freddie Sears to come on.
I can no longer exist in a world where Boa Morte consistently plays for West Ham. Like the prospect of Robbie Williams releasing any more albums, or Josh Hartnett being in any more film adaptations of James Ellroy novels - it's just plain wrong.
Alan, please stop it. It's hurting my spleen.
3. The Statistics
Perhaps unsurprisingly the numbers for this game all suggest a very even affair. Possession was shared at 50%, along with 4 corners apiece, 3 offsides each and ten fouls from each team.
Everton shaded the shots on goal count by 7 to 4, although even that feels a little high and discounts our two efforts that rattled the woodwork.
Encouragingly Dean Ashton had 6 attempts all on his own, although less encouragingly managed to get just two on target. One of those efforts was a first half strike from barely 6 yards that he somehow put wide with the Everton back four all crowding round Phil Neville to help him with a particularly tricky Times cryptic crossword.
In short, this was the archetypal game of two halves. We were poor in the first period, although we did have some decent chances of our own, before coming out in the second half and deservedly getting our equaliser with 20 minutes to go. That we didn't go on to win says more about our ability to kill a game than it does about Everton's stoical defending.
4. The Opposition
In the week before Christmas when Everton effectively ended our season with a double over us at Upton Park, I felt then that whilst functional, they were one of the more impressive teams I had seen. Sadly for them, the long season has taken it's toll and the team we faced here were a pale shadow of the load of Masai warriors we saw previously.
With Andy Johnson absent through injury - thus proving that one can get injured pretending to be injured - and with Tim Cahill withdrawn 11 minutes into the game, and 12 minutes after being added to my Fantasy League team, they were fairly devoid of attacking ideas.
Their goal was textbook route one, with Howard clearing long for Anichebe to flick on to Yakubu who in turn bullied James Tompkins out of the way and walloped home. He was helped slightly by Tompkins misplacing his cerebrum and foolishly getting caught on the wrong side, but in fairness to the youngster that is a geometrically impressive feat given that Yakubu is perfectly cylindrical and therefore only actually has one side anyway.
Thereafter saw much weeping and gnashing of teeth after Yakubu had his second goal incorrectly disallowed, at which point the wind seemed to disappear completely from the Everton sails, and it certainly felt that our equaliser was a long time coming.
Apropos of nothing at all but the fact that Phil Neville has played over 60 times for England just highlights everything that is wrong with this country.
5. The Referee
Mark Halsey was roundly castigated by the media for failing to allow the Yakubu goal. This is largely because most people in the English media have no knowledge of football.
The referee didn't make the decision - his assistant did. Certainly he probably saw that the ball came off Anichebe and not Parker, meaning therefore if the assistant had his flag up he was perfectly correct to disallow the goal. The fact that his assistant had also misplaced his cerebrum didn't help but so far as Halsey goes, he was fairly blameless.
He also didn't award a foul against Dean Ashton at every single opportunity, as demanded by the somewhat riled Goodison crowd. I have no idea if they were offended by Deano's fetching blonde highlights, or simply his rugged good looks, but either way they were not happy.
6. The Time Is Now
Given the fact that our season has reached a catatonic plateau, the saving grace remains the appearances of youngsters Freddie Sears and James Tompkins. The latter made his debut here, and despite a few rocky moments emerged relatively unscathed. He almost had a dream start when he headed a corner against the bar after just 4 minutes. Of course, scoring from a set piece against Everton would be like trampling an elephant to death, so it was not surprising to see it stay out.
Elsewhere, he showed a pleasing composure in possession and displayed an outstanding Premier League mullet. He'll fit right in.
Sears was belatedly introduced after Curbishley lost patience with Boa Morte standing around looking perplexed by the complexities of Southland Tales, and introduced Freddie Sears on the not unreasonable assumption that a sentient being would be more useful. Almost immediately we began to show more purpose, culminating in a thumping goal from Ashton and a series of squandered opportunities that would have made the candidates on The Apprentice blush.
As the game got even more stretched we had the repeated sight of Sears running unimpeded through on goal, culminating in an agonising shot against the post with just seconds remaining. Sadly, he also decided to pay his respects to Andy Johnson with a convincing homage late in the day involving Phil Neville and a theatrical dive in the box.
Freddie, just a note. Scoring late goals - good. Diving - bad.
7. This Just In
Prolonged exposure to Freddie Sears can make Phil Jagielka sit on the floor and cry. Like a baby.
8. It Goes Ashton And On And On
Dean Ashton's equaliser deserves a paragraph all of it's own, not least because it involved an excellent piece of play by Lucas Neill to get things started. It was his deep cross that invited Ashton to soar above the truly awful Jagielka to thump home our leveller.
Given that previously this year he has been displaying all the aerial prowess of an ostrich it was certainly a pleasant surprise to see him so dominant.
His first half miss was probably a sign that he hasn't quite fully recovered his finishing touch, or an indication that he has morphed into Emile Heskey, but either way he is clearly not the player he was two years ago, but he is a hell of a lot further along than he was two months ago. And that is a cause for some celebration amidst the boredom.
9. Hey, I Forgot
In my rush to get through this weeks article, I appear to have forgotten to give you an update on Luis Boa Morte's footwear for this game. Having had a week off Luis took the daring, if ultimately misguided, decision to play this game wearing a complete scuba diving outfit. This included goggles, flippers and a full tank of oxygen.
Needless to say he was still quicker than Yakubu, but for some reason, substantially less effective.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Sunderland vs West Ham United: Match Preview - 29/03/2008
1. A Brief Encounter
Another reduced preview this week. As brief as Lou Macari's tenure as West Ham boss.
2. A Long Time Ago, In A Football Ground Far, Far Away...
Back in 2001, a couple of weeks after Paolo DiCanio had left Fabien Barthez doing his favourite Heinrich Himmler impression, HeadHammer Shark and I ventured up to Sunderland for the 4th round FA Cup tie against a team who were then 2nd in the Premiership.
The game featured on Sky and was consequently a midday kick-off, meaning we had to be at Upton Park at 3am for the departing coaches. I remember running along the alley behind the East Stand wondering where the coach was leaving from, nimbly evading the hobos and knife-wielding, smack-addicted foxes.
A mere eight hours later we were at the ground. The game was patchy but we enjoyed the lions share of the chances and deservedly took the lead, thanks to Freddie Kanoute breaking clear and slotting home one of his many opportunities that day.
The considerable and vocal away support went mental and I very nearly fell from the very top to the very bottom of our allocated stand after jumping up and down on my seat. It was a decent game but a fantastic day.
It brought home to me how 16 hours of travelling can all be worth it for 2 minutes of delirium and a victory, whereas had we lost, it would've been one of the worst and most wasted days of my life.
What I'm trying to get at is that away days are a real Russian Roulette with a chasm between the contrasting emotions, all determined by 90 minutes of football. I sincerely hope that the travelling hoardes aren't left cursing all the way back down the M1 come Saturday night.
3. History
Earlier this season we beat Sunderland at home 3-1 in what is only the second time this campaign we have managed to score more than twice at Upton Park. The scoreline was flattering and the match most notable for the fact that Craig Bellamy was actually on the pitch.
The game was largely even with the scores tied at 1-1 in the 78th minute, until Scotland's Number 1 Craig Gordon scored an own goal and Craig Bellamy nicked an injury time third.
Being newly promoted, there was no corresponding fixture last year and the last time we played Sunderland at the oxymoronic Stadium of Light (for it is a cavern of darkness and evil) was October 2005.
The result was 1-1 with Yossi Benayoun on the scoresheet. The changes made to our squad since are probably best reflected in that Shaun Newton was then our primary drug mule as opposed to crack fiend Luis Boa Morte.
Generally, our record is fair to middling. Over the last ten years we have won eight, drawn three and lost five and our record away from home is a more or less even split of wins, draws and losses over the same period. Although in our last four visits we have won twice and drawn once.
It could be a dangerous time to meet The Black Cats as they are putting on a bit of a run in a bid to claw their way well clear of the relegation zone. Their impressive win away to Villa last week is testament to their current resolve, but we haven't looked too shabby ourselves in the last couple of weeks and our second half display at Everton was heartening.
4. Injuries
The fact that this section has been a regular addition to nigh on every match preview this year tells it's own story.
Apparently Bobby Zamora is back in contention having been forced to sit out last week with the laughable excuse of having "blisters". Carlton Cole is back in the frame, but recent salvation Freddie Sears has been struggling with a slight groin strain since Everton and so a late decision will be made regarding his involvement.
Faubert is doubtful as he is apparently not being risked before reaching full fitness and god only knows what's happened to Lee Bowyer and Matty Etherington.
Matthew Upson is still not a certainty having not fully recovered from an injury he picked up against Liverpool and in his absence I'd like to see James Tomkins given another game. Ok, so Yakubu's goal on Saturday evening came from his error, but if grave defensive errors automatically led to West Ham players being dropped, Upton Park would be a barren wasteland.
Tomkins looked solid in the second half at Everton and scored twice for England U-19's in their 3-1 win over Russia in midweek. Another good game on Saturday would do him no harm and help provide genuine competition/cover for our two ever-present centrebacks this year (in the absence of Gabbidon and Collins). In any case, he has to be a better centreback option than Jonathan Spector.
5. International Bright Young Thing
James Tomkins match-winning display against Russia this week was the highlight of a number of Hammers on international duty.
Lucas Neill guided the lamentably nicknamed 'Socceroos' to a goalless draw against China - Tibetan Monks forced to watch his positional play before all willingly renouncing their faith - and Freddie Ljungberg played an hour for Sweden in their 1-0 loss to Brazil at The Emirates.
Rob Green warmed the bench in Paris as David James did his best to detach Nicolas Anelka's torso from his legs, whereas Gorgeous George McCartney missed Northern Ireland's win over Georgia completely.
Most notable however was Alan Curbishley's visit to Craven Cottage to watch Pope Pantsil guide Nigeria to a glorious 2-1 defeat against Mexico. Having blessed the congregated thousands and levitated for a full fifteen minutes, High Priest Pantsil went on to selflessly offer up the Nigerian goal to the King Of Hosts, only for those dastardly Mexicans to score twice.
There was a filthy rumour proffered yesterday which said that Martin O'Neill could be interested in snatching our religious leader away to Villa Park come the summer.
This would be a disaster. We can not allow this to happen.
The seas would rise, great civilizations fall, the forests burn, plagues of locusts descend upon east London and Big Fun make a comeback.
Whilst our coffers would swell to bursting point having sold the first ever £400 billion player, that would be scant consolation for a devastating and total loss of faith.
Another reduced preview this week. As brief as Lou Macari's tenure as West Ham boss.
2. A Long Time Ago, In A Football Ground Far, Far Away...
Back in 2001, a couple of weeks after Paolo DiCanio had left Fabien Barthez doing his favourite Heinrich Himmler impression, HeadHammer Shark and I ventured up to Sunderland for the 4th round FA Cup tie against a team who were then 2nd in the Premiership.
The game featured on Sky and was consequently a midday kick-off, meaning we had to be at Upton Park at 3am for the departing coaches. I remember running along the alley behind the East Stand wondering where the coach was leaving from, nimbly evading the hobos and knife-wielding, smack-addicted foxes.
A mere eight hours later we were at the ground. The game was patchy but we enjoyed the lions share of the chances and deservedly took the lead, thanks to Freddie Kanoute breaking clear and slotting home one of his many opportunities that day.
The considerable and vocal away support went mental and I very nearly fell from the very top to the very bottom of our allocated stand after jumping up and down on my seat. It was a decent game but a fantastic day.
It brought home to me how 16 hours of travelling can all be worth it for 2 minutes of delirium and a victory, whereas had we lost, it would've been one of the worst and most wasted days of my life.
What I'm trying to get at is that away days are a real Russian Roulette with a chasm between the contrasting emotions, all determined by 90 minutes of football. I sincerely hope that the travelling hoardes aren't left cursing all the way back down the M1 come Saturday night.
3. History
Earlier this season we beat Sunderland at home 3-1 in what is only the second time this campaign we have managed to score more than twice at Upton Park. The scoreline was flattering and the match most notable for the fact that Craig Bellamy was actually on the pitch.
The game was largely even with the scores tied at 1-1 in the 78th minute, until Scotland's Number 1 Craig Gordon scored an own goal and Craig Bellamy nicked an injury time third.
Being newly promoted, there was no corresponding fixture last year and the last time we played Sunderland at the oxymoronic Stadium of Light (for it is a cavern of darkness and evil) was October 2005.
The result was 1-1 with Yossi Benayoun on the scoresheet. The changes made to our squad since are probably best reflected in that Shaun Newton was then our primary drug mule as opposed to crack fiend Luis Boa Morte.
Generally, our record is fair to middling. Over the last ten years we have won eight, drawn three and lost five and our record away from home is a more or less even split of wins, draws and losses over the same period. Although in our last four visits we have won twice and drawn once.
It could be a dangerous time to meet The Black Cats as they are putting on a bit of a run in a bid to claw their way well clear of the relegation zone. Their impressive win away to Villa last week is testament to their current resolve, but we haven't looked too shabby ourselves in the last couple of weeks and our second half display at Everton was heartening.
4. Injuries
The fact that this section has been a regular addition to nigh on every match preview this year tells it's own story.
Apparently Bobby Zamora is back in contention having been forced to sit out last week with the laughable excuse of having "blisters". Carlton Cole is back in the frame, but recent salvation Freddie Sears has been struggling with a slight groin strain since Everton and so a late decision will be made regarding his involvement.
Faubert is doubtful as he is apparently not being risked before reaching full fitness and god only knows what's happened to Lee Bowyer and Matty Etherington.
Matthew Upson is still not a certainty having not fully recovered from an injury he picked up against Liverpool and in his absence I'd like to see James Tomkins given another game. Ok, so Yakubu's goal on Saturday evening came from his error, but if grave defensive errors automatically led to West Ham players being dropped, Upton Park would be a barren wasteland.
Tomkins looked solid in the second half at Everton and scored twice for England U-19's in their 3-1 win over Russia in midweek. Another good game on Saturday would do him no harm and help provide genuine competition/cover for our two ever-present centrebacks this year (in the absence of Gabbidon and Collins). In any case, he has to be a better centreback option than Jonathan Spector.
5. International Bright Young Thing
James Tomkins match-winning display against Russia this week was the highlight of a number of Hammers on international duty.
Lucas Neill guided the lamentably nicknamed 'Socceroos' to a goalless draw against China - Tibetan Monks forced to watch his positional play before all willingly renouncing their faith - and Freddie Ljungberg played an hour for Sweden in their 1-0 loss to Brazil at The Emirates.
Rob Green warmed the bench in Paris as David James did his best to detach Nicolas Anelka's torso from his legs, whereas Gorgeous George McCartney missed Northern Ireland's win over Georgia completely.
Most notable however was Alan Curbishley's visit to Craven Cottage to watch Pope Pantsil guide Nigeria to a glorious 2-1 defeat against Mexico. Having blessed the congregated thousands and levitated for a full fifteen minutes, High Priest Pantsil went on to selflessly offer up the Nigerian goal to the King Of Hosts, only for those dastardly Mexicans to score twice.
There was a filthy rumour proffered yesterday which said that Martin O'Neill could be interested in snatching our religious leader away to Villa Park come the summer.
This would be a disaster. We can not allow this to happen.
The seas would rise, great civilizations fall, the forests burn, plagues of locusts descend upon east London and Big Fun make a comeback.
Whilst our coffers would swell to bursting point having sold the first ever £400 billion player, that would be scant consolation for a devastating and total loss of faith.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Everton vs West Ham United: Match Preview - 22/03/2008
1. Easter Comes Early
Firstly, Happy Easter to you, reader - and to the many thousands who have logged onto this website in error.
As the nights get shorter, so do my H List entries. Due to us all enjoying a four-day weekend this week, today's post will be a little less than usual so that it can be a preview that is actually read prior to the game.
Corners have been cut, the planning ill-conceived and any potentially disastrous consequences flagrantly disregarded in a bid to meet a deadline.
A bit like the war in Iraq.
2. Behind Enemy Lines
Following on from last week's introductory Rocky theme, on Sunday I took on the guise of John Rambo and was dropped deep in enemy territory at Craven Cottage for Fulham's match against this weekend's opponents.
The weather was awful and I was forced to smear on an extra layer of insulating goose fat along with the camouflage war-paint. Red bandana in place, M-16 Assault rifle locked and loaded, I blended in seamlessly - as visible as Luis Boa Morte's ability.
I must say that having seen The Toffees cruise to a comfortable victory at Upton Park earlier this season, they put in a distinctly underwhelming performance against a team fighting for survival.
Andy Johnson's early substitution due to terminal baldness forced David Moyes to reshuffle his team into a 4-5-1 formation. Yakubu became the sole attacker and Jolean Lescott increasingly pushed forward to join him as the game wore on. Robbed of the opportunity to lambaste Johnson, I settled into my foxhole to assess Everton.
They definitely missed Tim Cahill and apart from Arteta, their midfield was bereft of any real spark or quality. Pienaar was ineffective down the right, kept quiet with regular attention and Lee Carsley is simply a thug prone to the odd waist-high challenge.
As for their captain, the only weapon in Phil Neville's armoury is that he is the Medusa of the Premiership, ugly enough to stun opponents into paralysis with a mere glance. That man is the very definition of the word 'gormless'. Don't look him in the eyes!
At halftime there was time to blast my way down to Al-Fayed's underground sweatshops to free some Cambodian children from their bamboo cages and back into more regulated working conditions, plus a quick sausage roll.
What is all the fuss about Jolean Lescott? As far as I can see he is entrenched in the middle of the road. A distinctly average attacker and below par defender, he is betwixt and between any discernable use and god only knows how he wangled his way into the England squad.
Despite his obvious shortcomings, he seems convinced that he is the next Roberto Carlos - getting forward at any opportunity, but without the awareness, pace, range of passing, power or technique.
All in all, it was hard to see how they caused us so many problems a few months ago and confirmed my belief that all those teams outside the top four are beatable with a half decent performance.
3. History
Last season we were on the wrong end of a 2-0 scoreline at Goodison Park in the same fixture. At the time, we were just one point above the relegation zone and Everton were once again challenging for a place in that impenetrable top four.
It was a game in which we were unlucky not to come away with anything and David Moyes was gracious enough to say as much in his post-match interview. Despite our plucky performance, it spelt the beginning of the end for Alan Pardew and a week later he was out of a job, following successive defeats to Wigan and Bolton.
We have already lost to Everton twice this season and in the space of a week, thanks to our Premiership and League Cup double whammy back in December. In neither game were we consummately outclassed as we have been in recent weeks, but a 4-1 aggregate scoreline tells it's own story.
Generally speaking, our record isn't great. Everton were our bogey-team for quite some time and not much has been done in the recent past to reverse that trend - we have managed just two wins against them in the last ten years.
4. Welcome To The Nani State
It was announced this week that West Ham have appointed their first ever Technical Director in the form of Italian, Gianluca Nani.
His brief is to strengthen both the development of current players from Academy to first team and our pulling power in the transfer market, whilst simultaneously fazing out the techniques currently used to formulate tactics (which largely involve painting with potato shapes).
Nani has enjoyed some success at this sort of role previously with Brescia, the uncovering and development of current Italian striker Luca Toni being a notable example. With Toni already being a rumoured transfer target this summer, it will be interesting to see how that relationship develops.
Curbishley has shown little skill or desire to sign unknown talent from Europe's lesser leagues (Faubert apart), preferring to pay high transfer fees and wages for established Premiership regulars instead of seeking out and refining young talent with high potential.
Curbs was involved in Nani's selection and appointment from the start, which serves to underline the faith the Board have in our manager over the long term. If Nani is able to uncover young footballing gems and attract them to the club before their value (and/or ambition) spirals out of our grasp, his appointment will be a welcome progression.
5. Nightmare On Green Street
As you all know, the latest product to come off the Academy assembly line did his first team aspirations no harm by scoring the winner against Blackburn on Saturday.
Freddie Sears' explosion onto the Premiership scene will leave Curbishley with a few options upfront, having endured months of injuries. However, this weekend will signify the end of a suspension and the return of the nightmare that is Luis Boa Morte into first team contention.
In light of Saturday's result, I will be interested to see whether Luis walks straight back into the First XI at Goodison Park. To date, he seems the only player impervious to standard criteria such as actual competence on the field and the requirement to use one's limbs for mobility instead of a pogo stick.
The fifteen or so minutes that we got to see Ashton and Sears in tandem, they looked like they could evolve into an effective and diverse striking partnership. Ashton's power and first touch combined with Sears' fleet of foot could give us all a welcome lift as we trudge down the home straight of this season.
But to be fair, Boa Morte has consistently proven himself the better player in terms of Curbishley's selection criteria by having the fastest reaction times at Hungry Hungry Hippos.
You can't help but feel that LBM's inclusion would be a backwards step and that the winning team of the weekend have earned the right to have another crack at Everton. Let Luis merely have some crack at Everton and everyone would be happy.
Firstly, Happy Easter to you, reader - and to the many thousands who have logged onto this website in error.
As the nights get shorter, so do my H List entries. Due to us all enjoying a four-day weekend this week, today's post will be a little less than usual so that it can be a preview that is actually read prior to the game.
Corners have been cut, the planning ill-conceived and any potentially disastrous consequences flagrantly disregarded in a bid to meet a deadline.
A bit like the war in Iraq.
2. Behind Enemy Lines
Following on from last week's introductory Rocky theme, on Sunday I took on the guise of John Rambo and was dropped deep in enemy territory at Craven Cottage for Fulham's match against this weekend's opponents.
The weather was awful and I was forced to smear on an extra layer of insulating goose fat along with the camouflage war-paint. Red bandana in place, M-16 Assault rifle locked and loaded, I blended in seamlessly - as visible as Luis Boa Morte's ability.
I must say that having seen The Toffees cruise to a comfortable victory at Upton Park earlier this season, they put in a distinctly underwhelming performance against a team fighting for survival.
Andy Johnson's early substitution due to terminal baldness forced David Moyes to reshuffle his team into a 4-5-1 formation. Yakubu became the sole attacker and Jolean Lescott increasingly pushed forward to join him as the game wore on. Robbed of the opportunity to lambaste Johnson, I settled into my foxhole to assess Everton.
They definitely missed Tim Cahill and apart from Arteta, their midfield was bereft of any real spark or quality. Pienaar was ineffective down the right, kept quiet with regular attention and Lee Carsley is simply a thug prone to the odd waist-high challenge.
As for their captain, the only weapon in Phil Neville's armoury is that he is the Medusa of the Premiership, ugly enough to stun opponents into paralysis with a mere glance. That man is the very definition of the word 'gormless'. Don't look him in the eyes!
At halftime there was time to blast my way down to Al-Fayed's underground sweatshops to free some Cambodian children from their bamboo cages and back into more regulated working conditions, plus a quick sausage roll.
What is all the fuss about Jolean Lescott? As far as I can see he is entrenched in the middle of the road. A distinctly average attacker and below par defender, he is betwixt and between any discernable use and god only knows how he wangled his way into the England squad.
Despite his obvious shortcomings, he seems convinced that he is the next Roberto Carlos - getting forward at any opportunity, but without the awareness, pace, range of passing, power or technique.
All in all, it was hard to see how they caused us so many problems a few months ago and confirmed my belief that all those teams outside the top four are beatable with a half decent performance.
3. History
Last season we were on the wrong end of a 2-0 scoreline at Goodison Park in the same fixture. At the time, we were just one point above the relegation zone and Everton were once again challenging for a place in that impenetrable top four.
It was a game in which we were unlucky not to come away with anything and David Moyes was gracious enough to say as much in his post-match interview. Despite our plucky performance, it spelt the beginning of the end for Alan Pardew and a week later he was out of a job, following successive defeats to Wigan and Bolton.
We have already lost to Everton twice this season and in the space of a week, thanks to our Premiership and League Cup double whammy back in December. In neither game were we consummately outclassed as we have been in recent weeks, but a 4-1 aggregate scoreline tells it's own story.
Generally speaking, our record isn't great. Everton were our bogey-team for quite some time and not much has been done in the recent past to reverse that trend - we have managed just two wins against them in the last ten years.
4. Welcome To The Nani State
It was announced this week that West Ham have appointed their first ever Technical Director in the form of Italian, Gianluca Nani.
His brief is to strengthen both the development of current players from Academy to first team and our pulling power in the transfer market, whilst simultaneously fazing out the techniques currently used to formulate tactics (which largely involve painting with potato shapes).
Nani has enjoyed some success at this sort of role previously with Brescia, the uncovering and development of current Italian striker Luca Toni being a notable example. With Toni already being a rumoured transfer target this summer, it will be interesting to see how that relationship develops.
Curbishley has shown little skill or desire to sign unknown talent from Europe's lesser leagues (Faubert apart), preferring to pay high transfer fees and wages for established Premiership regulars instead of seeking out and refining young talent with high potential.
Curbs was involved in Nani's selection and appointment from the start, which serves to underline the faith the Board have in our manager over the long term. If Nani is able to uncover young footballing gems and attract them to the club before their value (and/or ambition) spirals out of our grasp, his appointment will be a welcome progression.
5. Nightmare On Green Street
As you all know, the latest product to come off the Academy assembly line did his first team aspirations no harm by scoring the winner against Blackburn on Saturday.
Freddie Sears' explosion onto the Premiership scene will leave Curbishley with a few options upfront, having endured months of injuries. However, this weekend will signify the end of a suspension and the return of the nightmare that is Luis Boa Morte into first team contention.
In light of Saturday's result, I will be interested to see whether Luis walks straight back into the First XI at Goodison Park. To date, he seems the only player impervious to standard criteria such as actual competence on the field and the requirement to use one's limbs for mobility instead of a pogo stick.
The fifteen or so minutes that we got to see Ashton and Sears in tandem, they looked like they could evolve into an effective and diverse striking partnership. Ashton's power and first touch combined with Sears' fleet of foot could give us all a welcome lift as we trudge down the home straight of this season.
But to be fair, Boa Morte has consistently proven himself the better player in terms of Curbishley's selection criteria by having the fastest reaction times at Hungry Hungry Hippos.
You can't help but feel that LBM's inclusion would be a backwards step and that the winning team of the weekend have earned the right to have another crack at Everton. Let Luis merely have some crack at Everton and everyone would be happy.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
West Ham 2 - 1 Blackburn Rovers (And Other Ramblings)
1. Carlsberg Don't Do Debuts
Wow, I'll bet it feels good to be Freddie Sears right now. Except for the obvious issue he might have with Alan Curbishley selecting Henri Camara ahead of him all year, but that's probably been offset rather nicely by his rather splendid debut.
I can only imagine what it must be like to come on at Upton Park for your first game as an 18 year old, and notch the winner. In fact, that's pretty much all I spent the first 17 years of my life imagining, so it's fair to say I'm somewhat envious.
So I guess it would also be reasonable to say that West Ham fans feel more positive about Freddie Sears than we do about, oh I don't know, let's pick a name at random, er................ Luis Boa Morte.
2. No Country For Old Men
I can't deny that it was something of a relief just to score a goal in this game, given our recent travails. It's tough to imagine that were going to lose 4-0 at home to Blackburn, but given that we managed to concede three goals to Newcastle I can't say we should be looking down our noses at anybody.
Of course, given our pitiful decline in recent weeks, I might go so far as to say that the rest of this season is really just about preparing for next term. To that end the introduction of Sears was welcome, even before he went all Michael Owen on their asses, and hopefully he will be followed soon enough by Jack Collison and James Tompkins.
It strikes me that by this point we are well aware of what Carlton Cole can do (not a lot, but he tries hard), or Jonathan Spector (not much either but he has nice hair) or Luis Boa Morte (Christ knows, 12 press ups maybe). With all of that in mind, and absolutely nothing left to play for it would be worthwhile to see what we have in our latest crop of youngsters.
I would also very much like to see midfielder Junior Stanislas get a run out, if only so that we can finally hone in on the lucrative untapped West Indian-Polish market.
3. The Statistics
As one might expect, the statistics for this game suggested a fairly even affair. This is simply because it was, perhaps unsurprisingly given the relative proximity of the teams in the Premier League. We mustered 6 shots on target to 5 from the visitors, with Blackburn shading the possession at 51%.
Dean Ashton had no less than 6 efforts at goal, including a splendidly taken goal, which one might dare to hope signals a return to form for the big man. Now admittedly, he was being marked by Christophe Samba who is arguably the only man this side of Johnny Vegas who could make Dean Ashton look svelte, but either way it was an encouraging display.
Elsewhere, we were caught offside just twice, which is a decent indicator that Bobby Zamora is not yet completely back in the swing of things. Or that someone has finally decided to tattoo the rules of the game on to the inside of his eyelids.
4. The Opposition
I have no idea why we are so dominant over Blackburn. I can think of three players - Santa Cruz, Bentley and Pedersen - who would wander straight into our side, and I am sure that Rovers fans could argue eloquently for a few others. All of this is irrelevant of course, as we have not so much the Indian Eye over Blackburn as the entire Asian Continent and most of Africa too.
Today was very strong evidence that there is very little to choose between the teams. Rovers scored a tremendous opener on the counter attack, with a fine finish from Roque Santa Cruz whilst our back 4 did a creditable impression of 4 men doing anything other than professional defending.
Pedersen should have given the visitors a late win, when presented with a very decent opportunity, but he instead ballooned his shot over Tower Bridge somewhere. This in itself wasn't his most telling contribution, as Freddie Sears would later come on and make him look rather ponderous in blitzing past him on the way to his late winner. I sincerely hope that he won't be the last defender to be getting a good look at the soles of Sears boots.
5. The Referee
Martin Atkinson took charge once more, and for my money didn't do a great deal wrong. Truthfully you'd have had to have been Mike Riley to make any kind of controversy out of this fixture. Two sides playing with absolutely no genuine ambitions of progressing much further in the League this year, and nary a tackle in anger.
Ho hum, nobody died. Let's move on.
6. Kudos
On a day such as this, when the entire stadium was salivating at the prospect of a new wunderkind, it would be easy to overlook a few of the better performances. Lucas Neill may have been consistently below par this year, but in recent weeks he has shown signs of life, or at the very least NotbeingascrapasTyroneMears.
Robert Green again proved his worth with a fine late save from Jason Roberts. Certainly Roberts isn't much of a finisher, in fact he's not much of anything really, but it was a tremendous stop nonetheless.
Best of all was the aforementioned return to form of Dean Ashton. Not only did he score a marvellously well taken goal, but he also had a big part to play in the winning goal as he held up a lovely Neill pass and flicked it into the path of the onrushing Sears who briefly impersonated Carlton Cole and whacked it straight at Friedel before recovering to head the winner. Bonzer!
7. Attack, Attack, Attack!
Special kudos to Alan Curbishley who shelved his previous slavish addiction to Italian offensive tactics, as he blew everybody's mind by finishing this game with no less than 3 strikers. I would never have considered that Curbishley had the guts to play 4-3-3, especially in a game that we weren't losing, but in fairness he showed a hitherto unseen attacking tilt in the second half.
It certainly felt as though he had realised that this was no time to be Boltonian given recent events, and credit to him.
There is still absolutely no excuse for ever picking Luis Boa Morte again - let us hope that Curbishley has noticed the following......
Less Luis - Less Losing
You know it makes sense.
Wow, I'll bet it feels good to be Freddie Sears right now. Except for the obvious issue he might have with Alan Curbishley selecting Henri Camara ahead of him all year, but that's probably been offset rather nicely by his rather splendid debut.
I can only imagine what it must be like to come on at Upton Park for your first game as an 18 year old, and notch the winner. In fact, that's pretty much all I spent the first 17 years of my life imagining, so it's fair to say I'm somewhat envious.
So I guess it would also be reasonable to say that West Ham fans feel more positive about Freddie Sears than we do about, oh I don't know, let's pick a name at random, er................ Luis Boa Morte.
2. No Country For Old Men
I can't deny that it was something of a relief just to score a goal in this game, given our recent travails. It's tough to imagine that were going to lose 4-0 at home to Blackburn, but given that we managed to concede three goals to Newcastle I can't say we should be looking down our noses at anybody.
Of course, given our pitiful decline in recent weeks, I might go so far as to say that the rest of this season is really just about preparing for next term. To that end the introduction of Sears was welcome, even before he went all Michael Owen on their asses, and hopefully he will be followed soon enough by Jack Collison and James Tompkins.
It strikes me that by this point we are well aware of what Carlton Cole can do (not a lot, but he tries hard), or Jonathan Spector (not much either but he has nice hair) or Luis Boa Morte (Christ knows, 12 press ups maybe). With all of that in mind, and absolutely nothing left to play for it would be worthwhile to see what we have in our latest crop of youngsters.
I would also very much like to see midfielder Junior Stanislas get a run out, if only so that we can finally hone in on the lucrative untapped West Indian-Polish market.
3. The Statistics
As one might expect, the statistics for this game suggested a fairly even affair. This is simply because it was, perhaps unsurprisingly given the relative proximity of the teams in the Premier League. We mustered 6 shots on target to 5 from the visitors, with Blackburn shading the possession at 51%.
Dean Ashton had no less than 6 efforts at goal, including a splendidly taken goal, which one might dare to hope signals a return to form for the big man. Now admittedly, he was being marked by Christophe Samba who is arguably the only man this side of Johnny Vegas who could make Dean Ashton look svelte, but either way it was an encouraging display.
Elsewhere, we were caught offside just twice, which is a decent indicator that Bobby Zamora is not yet completely back in the swing of things. Or that someone has finally decided to tattoo the rules of the game on to the inside of his eyelids.
4. The Opposition
I have no idea why we are so dominant over Blackburn. I can think of three players - Santa Cruz, Bentley and Pedersen - who would wander straight into our side, and I am sure that Rovers fans could argue eloquently for a few others. All of this is irrelevant of course, as we have not so much the Indian Eye over Blackburn as the entire Asian Continent and most of Africa too.
Today was very strong evidence that there is very little to choose between the teams. Rovers scored a tremendous opener on the counter attack, with a fine finish from Roque Santa Cruz whilst our back 4 did a creditable impression of 4 men doing anything other than professional defending.
Pedersen should have given the visitors a late win, when presented with a very decent opportunity, but he instead ballooned his shot over Tower Bridge somewhere. This in itself wasn't his most telling contribution, as Freddie Sears would later come on and make him look rather ponderous in blitzing past him on the way to his late winner. I sincerely hope that he won't be the last defender to be getting a good look at the soles of Sears boots.
5. The Referee
Martin Atkinson took charge once more, and for my money didn't do a great deal wrong. Truthfully you'd have had to have been Mike Riley to make any kind of controversy out of this fixture. Two sides playing with absolutely no genuine ambitions of progressing much further in the League this year, and nary a tackle in anger.
Ho hum, nobody died. Let's move on.
6. Kudos
On a day such as this, when the entire stadium was salivating at the prospect of a new wunderkind, it would be easy to overlook a few of the better performances. Lucas Neill may have been consistently below par this year, but in recent weeks he has shown signs of life, or at the very least NotbeingascrapasTyroneMears.
Robert Green again proved his worth with a fine late save from Jason Roberts. Certainly Roberts isn't much of a finisher, in fact he's not much of anything really, but it was a tremendous stop nonetheless.
Best of all was the aforementioned return to form of Dean Ashton. Not only did he score a marvellously well taken goal, but he also had a big part to play in the winning goal as he held up a lovely Neill pass and flicked it into the path of the onrushing Sears who briefly impersonated Carlton Cole and whacked it straight at Friedel before recovering to head the winner. Bonzer!
7. Attack, Attack, Attack!
Special kudos to Alan Curbishley who shelved his previous slavish addiction to Italian offensive tactics, as he blew everybody's mind by finishing this game with no less than 3 strikers. I would never have considered that Curbishley had the guts to play 4-3-3, especially in a game that we weren't losing, but in fairness he showed a hitherto unseen attacking tilt in the second half.
It certainly felt as though he had realised that this was no time to be Boltonian given recent events, and credit to him.
There is still absolutely no excuse for ever picking Luis Boa Morte again - let us hope that Curbishley has noticed the following......
Less Luis - Less Losing
You know it makes sense.
Friday, March 14, 2008
West Ham United vs Blackburn Rovers: Match Preview - 15/03/2008
1. Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends
You know in Rocky films when Stallone is standing there in the ring, with his hands down, getting ruthlessly pummeled and displaying atrocious technique? He hits the canvas for the thirteenth time and part of you thinks "Stay down! Stay down!"
- that's something like where I am at the moment with our current season.
Of course, Sly always clambers to his feet to land a telling blow at the expense of his rapidly declining motor skills, but can we do the same at home on Saturday?
2. Our Opponents
Blackburn have had a steady season and have cemented their claims as genuine UEFA Cup-spot contenders. In Mark Hughes, they also have one of the more impressive young managers to have come on the scene in the last few years.
They have lost just once since Christmas, which was away to Arsenal and whilst never setting the world alight, Rovers have gone about their job consistently. Unlike ourselves, they regularly compete with those teams in and around them and invariably beat those they should.
David Bentley appears to be the only genuine difference in quality between the two teams, who are largely comparable. One gets the impression that their success stems from Hughes demanding that extra 10% from average players and that they enjoy playing for him.
3. History
Our record against Blackburn Rovers is very good. They have not managed to take a single point from Upton Park since a 2-1 victory back in 1994, the season before they went on to claim the Championship. We have won eight and drawn one of the last nine meetings between the two clubs in all competitions.
Last season we claimed a nervy 2-1 win over Rovers, courtesy of goals from Hayden Mullins and Teddy Sheringham to put us two-up, before David Bentley equalised late on.
History and statistics (those most useless of reference points this season), tell us that Saturday should be an exciting game. Blackburn have scored more goals against us than against any other club, whereas we have won more games against Rovers than against anyone else. Cue the tame 0-0 draw.
During my painstaking research I was surprised to learn that, despite our much-lauded defence this year, we have only managed to keep clean sheets in two home games this season - against Middlesbrough and Liverpool.
Typically, I was at our last loss back in '94 and witnessed West Ham's former defender Ian Pearce score the winner, when he used to play upfront with Shearer. This is of course before his knees took on the tensile strength of popcorn and he was forced to morph his career to one of an immobile centre back.
I also remember 'Mad Dog' Martin Allen spanking in a glorious free-kick from fully 30 yards, before running off in celebration like a startled hare with rabies. It wasn't until I saw the replay from behind the goal that I realised the ball took a deflected trajectory akin to a small section of Steve Bruce's nose.
No, of course it didn't. That would be utterly ridiculous.
4. Kicked To The Curb
This week Alan Curbishley was given the dreaded 'vote of confidence' from the Club's Board of Directors after some speculation in the media about his tenure. He also came out with an impassioned response to recent criticism from the terraces as well as conspiracy theories on media "agendas".
One of Alan's complaints was that people fail to acknowledge that he too goes through the same pain and frustration as us fans when the team put in such dour performances as they have of late.
What Curbs fails to acknowledge is that he is paid a king's ransom to sit and watch those stoned llamas lolloping around, whereas we have no recourse for compensation and have to fork out between £35 and £50 per game to be dragged through the same emotional minefield.
His latest outburst put me in mind of the differences between our current manager and his predecessor, Alan Pardew. One of the things I liked most about Pards was his straight-talking in post-match interviews. Only this week he came out with the following after Charlton lost to Preston North End on Monday night:
"I feel for the fans today, paying good money and watching a load of crap."
Curbs would do well to realise that such brutal honesty would go a long way to appeasing some of us. It would at least give us all a flicker of hope that these lacklustre, unimaginative performances aren't given by design.
5. Premiership Plunder
There has been much hoopla this week that English teams make up four of the eight quarter finalists in the Champions League, but the dominance of the Premiership is not reflected in a wealth of homegrown talent.
Of the 44 names on the teamsheets of Premiership sides in the last round, there were just 10 Englishmen: Carragher, Gerrard, Terry, A Cole, Lampard, J Cole, Brown, Ferdinand, Carrick and Rooney.
What our large representation in the last eight reflects is merely the wealth of the domestic league and hence the ability to tempt top class internationals with extortionate wages.
I don't consider our heavy influence in the latter stages of the world's top club competition to be a matter of pride, merely a confirmation of its existence as an elitist practice to maintain the widening gulf between rich and poor.
A widening gap akin to that which lies between Lenny Henry's drain on the the earth's resources and his validity as a life form, except that this gap is laden with chocolate coins. If you can imagine such a thing.
6. InjuriesInjuriesInjuriesInjuriesInjuriesInjuries
Scott Parker bust be a good bet to start on Saturday as he got through 75 minutes in the-game-that-shall-not-speak-its-name, last Sunday. Bobby Zamora also played that dark day and Curbs could continue with his zany 4-4-2 experiment this week, accommodating both Zamora and Ashton.
Although we're at home, so probably not.
Julien Faubert is back in training but not in contention, so it will likely be between just Nobby and Freddie to fight it out for the right wing spot.
Apparently Bowyer is also back in full training and Upson stands a chance of returning, having missed Sunday's grotesque freak show as he was hiding under a rock in abject shame.
Still, on the bright side....
....Luis Boa Morte is suspended!!!
7. Rejoice!
Did you read that? Luis Boa Morte is not eligible for this weekend. He will definitely not be playing! Or even on the bench!!
Oh, happy day...
8. Steve Bruce Update
Deary me, things are going from bad to worse for Steve and his Angular Hooter (TM).
It appears as if the treacherous mountain range he calls a nose (littered with the corpses of expert mountain climbers out of their depth), has ripped the very fabric of the space-time continuum.
Only last week Steve referred to Wigan's match at Manchester City thusly:
"We had a very tricky game at Maine Road."
Now, considering that Man City haven't played at Maine Road for five years, the only possible explanation is that Steve is permanently staring through a time portal, which is continually whirring at the end his Polio-ravaged Twiglet of a nose.
Physicists everywhere are elated, although they freely admit that it would take an army of physicists a thousand years to quantify the innumerable angles jarring from a nose which has more lumps and bumps than a packet of Nik-Naks.
You know in Rocky films when Stallone is standing there in the ring, with his hands down, getting ruthlessly pummeled and displaying atrocious technique? He hits the canvas for the thirteenth time and part of you thinks "Stay down! Stay down!"
- that's something like where I am at the moment with our current season.
Of course, Sly always clambers to his feet to land a telling blow at the expense of his rapidly declining motor skills, but can we do the same at home on Saturday?
2. Our Opponents
Blackburn have had a steady season and have cemented their claims as genuine UEFA Cup-spot contenders. In Mark Hughes, they also have one of the more impressive young managers to have come on the scene in the last few years.
They have lost just once since Christmas, which was away to Arsenal and whilst never setting the world alight, Rovers have gone about their job consistently. Unlike ourselves, they regularly compete with those teams in and around them and invariably beat those they should.
David Bentley appears to be the only genuine difference in quality between the two teams, who are largely comparable. One gets the impression that their success stems from Hughes demanding that extra 10% from average players and that they enjoy playing for him.
3. History
Our record against Blackburn Rovers is very good. They have not managed to take a single point from Upton Park since a 2-1 victory back in 1994, the season before they went on to claim the Championship. We have won eight and drawn one of the last nine meetings between the two clubs in all competitions.
Last season we claimed a nervy 2-1 win over Rovers, courtesy of goals from Hayden Mullins and Teddy Sheringham to put us two-up, before David Bentley equalised late on.
History and statistics (those most useless of reference points this season), tell us that Saturday should be an exciting game. Blackburn have scored more goals against us than against any other club, whereas we have won more games against Rovers than against anyone else. Cue the tame 0-0 draw.
During my painstaking research I was surprised to learn that, despite our much-lauded defence this year, we have only managed to keep clean sheets in two home games this season - against Middlesbrough and Liverpool.
Typically, I was at our last loss back in '94 and witnessed West Ham's former defender Ian Pearce score the winner, when he used to play upfront with Shearer. This is of course before his knees took on the tensile strength of popcorn and he was forced to morph his career to one of an immobile centre back.
I also remember 'Mad Dog' Martin Allen spanking in a glorious free-kick from fully 30 yards, before running off in celebration like a startled hare with rabies. It wasn't until I saw the replay from behind the goal that I realised the ball took a deflected trajectory akin to a small section of Steve Bruce's nose.
No, of course it didn't. That would be utterly ridiculous.
4. Kicked To The Curb
This week Alan Curbishley was given the dreaded 'vote of confidence' from the Club's Board of Directors after some speculation in the media about his tenure. He also came out with an impassioned response to recent criticism from the terraces as well as conspiracy theories on media "agendas".
One of Alan's complaints was that people fail to acknowledge that he too goes through the same pain and frustration as us fans when the team put in such dour performances as they have of late.
What Curbs fails to acknowledge is that he is paid a king's ransom to sit and watch those stoned llamas lolloping around, whereas we have no recourse for compensation and have to fork out between £35 and £50 per game to be dragged through the same emotional minefield.
His latest outburst put me in mind of the differences between our current manager and his predecessor, Alan Pardew. One of the things I liked most about Pards was his straight-talking in post-match interviews. Only this week he came out with the following after Charlton lost to Preston North End on Monday night:
"I feel for the fans today, paying good money and watching a load of crap."
Curbs would do well to realise that such brutal honesty would go a long way to appeasing some of us. It would at least give us all a flicker of hope that these lacklustre, unimaginative performances aren't given by design.
5. Premiership Plunder
There has been much hoopla this week that English teams make up four of the eight quarter finalists in the Champions League, but the dominance of the Premiership is not reflected in a wealth of homegrown talent.
Of the 44 names on the teamsheets of Premiership sides in the last round, there were just 10 Englishmen: Carragher, Gerrard, Terry, A Cole, Lampard, J Cole, Brown, Ferdinand, Carrick and Rooney.
What our large representation in the last eight reflects is merely the wealth of the domestic league and hence the ability to tempt top class internationals with extortionate wages.
I don't consider our heavy influence in the latter stages of the world's top club competition to be a matter of pride, merely a confirmation of its existence as an elitist practice to maintain the widening gulf between rich and poor.
A widening gap akin to that which lies between Lenny Henry's drain on the the earth's resources and his validity as a life form, except that this gap is laden with chocolate coins. If you can imagine such a thing.
6. InjuriesInjuriesInjuriesInjuriesInjuriesInjuries
Scott Parker bust be a good bet to start on Saturday as he got through 75 minutes in the-game-that-shall-not-speak-its-name, last Sunday. Bobby Zamora also played that dark day and Curbs could continue with his zany 4-4-2 experiment this week, accommodating both Zamora and Ashton.
Although we're at home, so probably not.
Julien Faubert is back in training but not in contention, so it will likely be between just Nobby and Freddie to fight it out for the right wing spot.
Apparently Bowyer is also back in full training and Upson stands a chance of returning, having missed Sunday's grotesque freak show as he was hiding under a rock in abject shame.
Still, on the bright side....
....Luis Boa Morte is suspended!!!
7. Rejoice!
Did you read that? Luis Boa Morte is not eligible for this weekend. He will definitely not be playing! Or even on the bench!!
Oh, happy day...
8. Steve Bruce Update
Deary me, things are going from bad to worse for Steve and his Angular Hooter (TM).
It appears as if the treacherous mountain range he calls a nose (littered with the corpses of expert mountain climbers out of their depth), has ripped the very fabric of the space-time continuum.
Only last week Steve referred to Wigan's match at Manchester City thusly:
"We had a very tricky game at Maine Road."
Now, considering that Man City haven't played at Maine Road for five years, the only possible explanation is that Steve is permanently staring through a time portal, which is continually whirring at the end his Polio-ravaged Twiglet of a nose.
Physicists everywhere are elated, although they freely admit that it would take an army of physicists a thousand years to quantify the innumerable angles jarring from a nose which has more lumps and bumps than a packet of Nik-Naks.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
tottenham 4 - 0 West Ham (And Other Things That Will Cost Alan Curbishley His Job)
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?
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?
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.
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