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I had an ususual football experience yesterday. City lost, but sadly there’s nothing unusual about that these days. What was strange was listening to the defeat on the wireless while watching Brighton and Hove Albion play on the other side of town. My friend Pete, you see, is a Brighton fan, and we went to watch the Seagulls take on a little-known outfit called Bristol Rovers, who play at the ramshackle Memorial ”Stadium”, a strange collection of sheds and tents that makes Ashton Gate seem a veritable Wembley in comparison. It was interesting, I must say, and the football was of such a poor standard that it made me realise that City, despite recent setbacks, have come a very long way indeed. The first half was dire, with few chances on either side, and as the half time whistle blew, the announcer felt the need to remind the few thousand people present that “You are watching Bristol Rovers versus Brighton”, as if he thought that they may have nodded off, only to be awoken from their slumbers, all confused, by the whistle. I probably would have nodded off myself, had I not a) been listening to the commentary from Sheffield, and b) been obliged to stand, visiting supporters not being afforded the luxury of seating.
The second half was significantly better, and Brighton scored a couple of scrappy goals (it must be hard to score decent goals on a ploughed field), much to the delight of my new chums who had travelled up from Sussex. They were a cheerful, chirpy lot actually, and I enjoyed their sense of self-effacing irony. At one point they started chanting ”We’ve got tiny cocks, we’ve got tiny cocks…”, which bemused me rather until Pete explained that they were singing about their diminutive mid-fielder, Dean Cox (against whom, incidentally, our own mid-field midget, Lee Johnson, would appear gigantic, were they to meet. Which seems unlikely in the near future, given that Brighton, despite their victory yesterday, can’t get to the playoffs, and willl therefore be in League One for another season.) Later, they revised the chant to “We’ve got 5-foot Cox” – less self-effacing, but also funny.
Anyway, back to the main event, and City’s game at Sheffield. Apparently we played well, and even took the lead, but lost out to a stronger side, themselves still in the hunt for a playoff place. As it turns out, it didn’t really matter a great deal that we lost - Stoke won, thereby removing our outside chance of getting back into second place. The good news from yesterday is that, despite yet another defeat, we are finally guaranteed a playoff place, as Wolves and Ipswich failed to win. The final challenge, apart from the agony of the playoffs themselves, is to win our last game of the season, thereby ensuring that we finish in 4th place, thereby getting the advantage of playing our home leg second.
To say that our end-of-season collapse has been disappointing would be an understatement. But it’s not difficult to find the postives in the situation (which City fans generally are not so good at). How about this for starters? If somebody had promised during the final stages of last season that not only would we be promoted to the Championship, but that we would finish this season in the top six with a chance of another promotion, we’d have been overjoyed. So let’s be overjoyed, and let’s look forward to the playoff lottery with gusto – goodness knows, with our recent form, there’s no better chance for us than a lottery.
Well, it was a grand day out. The only minor problem was the score, but, in all fairness, we didn’t deserve much better. The first half was an unbelievably inept display by City, and the second, whilst much improved, was not the stuff of champions, or even runners-up.
So that’s about it, as far as our push for automatic promotion goes. We still have a mathematical chance of finishing in the top 2, so all is not lost, but we also have a mathematical chance of finishing 8th (and therefore not even in the playoffs) – I think that most City fans, like me, would settle for somewhere in between, with a sigh of relief.
Although we didn’t have the time, or, frankly, the inclination to explore Stoke, my impression was that it’s one of those places that keeps its charms extremely well hidden. And although the natives seemed friendly enough, we were struck by how strangely miserable most of them looked after the game – when we win at Ashton Gate we go away chatting and cheerful, but maybe a downbeat appearance is part and parcel with living in Stoke, even at a moment of triumph.
Anyway, here’s a nice picture of me and my pals watching the game – don’t we look happy regardless? I think we’re celebrating one of the City players timing a pass properly… which means it must have been near the end of the game. (I’m near the bottom left, sporting the scarf and rather dapper flat cap.)
Ah well, if City’s sporting exploits at the weekend were nothing to write home about, at least the weekend started with a terrific game of golf on Friday. It ended with me sinking a putt on the final hole to halve the match for my team. In my mind it was at least 25 feet – but then these putts, like the angler’s fish, always grow somewhat in the telling. Let’s just say it was a putt that I would expect to get only once in about 25 attempts, and what was especially nice is that Stephen and Dave, our opponents, seemed almost as excited by it going in as I was.
It’s simple really – if we beat Stoke tomorrow, we are still in with a good chance of automatic promotion with 2 games to come, especially if Hull fail to win. If we draw, the top two spots are probably out of our grasp. If we lose, then it’s the playoffs (not mathematically, but realistically).
Even my Mum’s getting obsessed now. She said that she’d have her fingers crossed for us, come 3 o’clock. I told her that it’s a 5:20 kick-off. She’ll probably forget, have her fingers crossed from 3-5, and we’ll lose. Still, it’s always good to have someone to blame…
Two massive games for City tonight, and we’re not playing in either of them! Hull take on the unpredictable Barnsley – if Hull win, they overtake us, and we slip to 4th. Meanwhile, West Brom travel across town to play arch-rivals Wolves – if the Baggies win, they go 4 points clear with 3 to play, and move very close to promotion. If they lose, it’s still wide open. And, most excitingly, if they lose by 30 goals, we go back up to 2nd.
Well, I’m glad I lit the lucky candle this time, otherwise we’d have lost again. As it was, the candle saved us a point as we scrabbled to a draw which was sadly devoid of decent chances for City. Some would say that Wolves deserved to win, and I’d agree that Basso had to make a couple of excellent saves, and that they had a good shout for a penalty near the end, but I think a draw was probably about right. Our Man of the Match was deemed to be Steve Brooker, who certainly looked determined and energetic, but it’s a rather sad reflection on our recent form that the MotM award goes to a striker who not only failed to score, but failed even to force their keeper to make a save.
We got very excited to hear that both Stoke and Hull were losing at half time, but that couldn’t last. Stoke won and Hull drew, which, combined with West Brom’s draw with Watford later in the day, banished City to a precarious third place. Frankly, if we hold on to that we’ll have done well. BUT we’re off to Stoke on Saturday, where a win for (our) City MAY put the cat among the pigeons.
Elsewhere on the sporting scene, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the Masters, but it wasn’t a classic. Trevor Immelman won it, quite easily in the end, with Tiger Woods not really firing on all cylinders, and the English challenge from Casey, Poulter and Rose amounting to not very much at all. But it is great to watch, and I love the way it comes around every year to herald the start of a glorious summer of golf.
I’ve spent the past few days playing golf in Cornwall, at Trevose, near Padstow. Having been there a couple of times before, I knew what to expect, but Trevose is one of those rare places that is consistently even more beautiful than one’s memory of it. The golf course overlooks Constantine Bay, and the cocktail of sea air, golf, and an unexpected amount of sunshine, mixed in with spectacular views and good company, is just the ticket. The course, which is hosting the English amateur championship next month, was immaculate, and the club house provided good food (and the occasional glass of beer…), served by really nice people. The whole experience just made me feel very lucky.
And talking of luck, City continue to extend their overdraft at the Luck Bank. Watford and Stoke began the week with games in hand over us, which, if won, would have pushed us down to 4th place. Watford, who only had to beat lowly Barnsley to overtake us, were convincingly beaten 3-0, and Stoke were beaten at home. So automatic promotion is still in our grasp, and the final push must begin this afternoon with a win against Wolves, who are themselves well in the frame. Yes folks, it’s another must-win 6-pointer. Not sure I can cope…
Well, it really is going down to the wire. Crystal Palace, lounging at the bottom of the league when Neil Warnock took over, are on a charge, and climbed to a playoff position by narrowly beating Tonly Clueless’ Stoke. I listened to the last 15 minutes on the wireless, and have never felt quite so involved in a match between 2 clubs in which I normally have no interest whatsoever. But I suppose that’s what comes of following a football team, especially in such a thrilling situation as this – everything has a bearing on one’s own team’s fate.
Which seems as good a time as any for a confession. On Saturday, I forgot to light the lucky battery-operated candle, which traditionally burns in our hallway when City play. This obviously accounts for our poor performance, and although I had hoped to keep it quiet, I realise that an omission of such magnitude cannot be covered up. I am deeply sorry.
From what I’ve heard, read and seen, this was certainly one to miss. “Worst performance this season” seems to be the general concensus. And Southampton, who have been desperately bad lately, were apparently made to look pretty good by a lacklustre City side. Whilst football management is the easiest game in the world when played from the comfort of one’s couch, and whilst I can understand Sir Gary’s policy of not changing a winning side, when the win in question is as unconvincing as ours was against Norwich, I would have to question whether it really counts as as a win in this context. Murray and Noble, especially, must have been astonished to be in the starting 11 again – they must surely have felt that they’d done more than enough last week to get themselves dropped.
So, to the all-important league table:
OK, we’re still top, and IF we win our remaining 4 fixtures, we may well finish first or second. But that’s by no means guaranteed – if Stoke, West Brom, Watford and Hull win their games in hand, they all overtake us, and we go from top to 5th in a trice, and struggling for a playoff place. The league is so tight that Sheffield United, who are currently 13th, stand a mathematical chance of EITHER winning the league OR being relegated! And we still need a further win to be guaranteed a place in the playoffs. And given that we’ve now had just one (undeserved, many would say) win from the last 6 games, it seems entirely possible that we won’t get another.
That said, the bookies still fancy us, at 6/4 for promotion, albeit 6/1 to get that promotion automatically. I have to say that, as one who has an occasional flutter, I don’t find either of those odds in the least bit tempting!
So it’s official, Bristol’s traffic is the slowest in the country – within the city, traffic moves at an average 16.8 mph (as reported by the Beeb this morning). There’s never been a better time to get a bicycle!
There was an interview with some bloke in the paper the other day, in which he said, rather teasingly, that his most treasured posession is a “Chris Craft Runabout”. The name led me to believe that it was some form of transport, but beyond that I had no idea. A few google-seconds later, I knew that it was a beautiful vintage speedboat, and had a picture to prove it. In fact, I found so much information about the Chris Craft Runabout that I was left feeling somewhat ignorant and unworldly, and with the distinct impression that I was part of a very small band of dullards who didn’t know about this legendary style icon, the only other members being a few isolated tribes in Papua New Guinea. It also made me wonder how long it would have taken me to uncover this piece of trivia in the “olden days”, and realised that in that other reality that was life before Google, I wouldn’t have even bothered to try. So let’s hear it for the Internet, making us more knowledgeable by the day, albeit in often useless ways. (I did enjoy the picture of the boat, and it brought back fond memories of thrilling speedboat rides at Bognor Regis with my Dad and my sister, on our annual summer holiday. Happy days indeed, in Jolly Bognor.)
