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This is one which, at the start of the season, we’d have expected to win. But you can’t really play as badly as City did in the first half, concede 2 goals in 20 minutes, and still feel confident. At that point, we’d have been delighted to know that we would end up with half the points, and a second half renaissance, with excellent goals from new-boy Akinde and old stager David Noble, sent us home with smiles on our faces, and “You f*cked it up two nil” ringing in our ears.
Sir Gary seemed pretty pissy with the fans at the end, though, applauding the East End singers, but pointedly shaking his head as he turned his back on the Dolman – presumably he felt that the support during the first half was rather poor. But really Gary, even I, the happiest clapper of them all, was beginning to despair – it really was a woeful performance. Let’s just put it behind us, remember the last half hour, and rejoice that we have players like Trundle, Nobes and Akinde to come on to change the game as dramatically as they did. And, dear Gary, you turn on your own fans at your peril.
The Mayor of Wessex, and Bob
I caught a small amount of the golf this weekend, the British Masters at The Belfrey, including the exciting last few holes in which Lee Westwood narrowly lost to a Spanish bloke on the third playoff hole. Golfers usually behave well in victory and defeat, and it struck me that a neutral observer would have been hard pressed to know which player had actually won when the final putt decided it – not because it didn’t matter to them (if nothing else, there was £100,000 difference in first and second place prize money), but because they know how to behave.
I also enjoyed a vintage Peter Alliss moment on the commentary. His fellow commentator, during a lull in the golfing action, mentioned Carol Vorderman, the famously sexy hostess on the word game “Countdown”. “Ah, Carol Vorderman“, said Alliss, dreamily, “I was watching her the other day and I got aroused“. (Stunned silence for a beautifully judged few seconds…). “Yes, 7 letters – not bad for a lad who left school at 15…“.
Elsewhere in the sporting weekend, City slumped to a 2-0 defeat at Wolves. It wasn’t really unexpected, given that Wolves seem to be running away with the Championship, but disappointing nevertheless. (And a cautionary note to cocky Wolves fans – this time last year, it was Watford who were romping, and look what happened to them…)
I was glad not to have listened to the game on the radio, opting instead to wander down to the “Best of Bedminster Show” on North Street Green. It was a great little event, along the lines of the traditional village produce show, with people submitting jams, cakes and strangely shaped vegetables to be judged by ladies from the Women’s Institute. I was delighted to win 3rd prize in the “Best Photograph” category – I won a medal (made of baked sour dough) and a packet of seeds. The prizes were presented by 2 women dressed as men, one claiming to be the Mayor of Wessex, and the other her son, Bob. Once the ceremony was complete, the sun burned through the misty clouds, and the Ambling Band played some pleasant (and suitably whacky) music. It was the sort of thing that makes me really enjoy living here.
The Ambling Band
A compulsive weekend’s viewing culminated in a pretty resounding defeat for the fancied Europeans in the Ryder Cup. Much to my boys’ disgust, I rather monopolised the television for the duration, thereby denying them endless repeats of “Friends” (although they can probably struggle through to maturity without seeing the 19th repeat of “the one in which a bloke whines annoyingly while his flatmate gets the wrong end of the stick again and a couple of unhealthily thin women flick their hair“).
The quality of the golf was, at times, quite incredible, and America thoroughly deserved to win, even though we could have done without some of their rather ungentlemanly behaviour. Lee Westwood complained that somebody said something especially unpleasant about his mother (though we haven’t learned exactly what), I got very bored of the crowd booing loudly in support of the rather buffoonish Boo Weekley, and Anthony Kim really shouldn’t have done the fist pumping thing when the halved hole he’d just won was courtesy of a generously conceded putt. But we’ll forgive them.
Nick Faldo’s coming in for a fair bit of stick after the defeat, people saying that he shouldn’t have saved his star players for so late in the day – although since two of them lost anyway, one could argue that “we” were doomed from the start. My own main criticism of Faldo is that he should have removed his sunglasses from time to time – even at the end, when dispensing consoling hugs for his own team and congratulatory handshakes for the opposition, he remained inscrutable behind the shades, like some sort of international man of mystery, which I thought was rather rude.
And talking of rudeness, I was delighted to see Ronaldo the Arrogant get booked for wagging his finger at the referee in yesterday’s game against Chelsea. He really does deserve a slap sometimes.
Not wanting to be responsible for another City disaster (my failure to raise the Lucky Flag being one of the reasons for our midweek defeat against Birmingham), I got the flag up good and early yesterday. And we cruised to a comfortable win, so I think that proves it works. Doesn’t it?
A rather tense first half yielded few chances, and City looked rather lacklustre. But at half time, Sir Gary put something in the boys’ tea, and before we knew it we were 3-0 up. Much to the relief of the crowd, new boy Nicky Maynard was responsible for both of the first two goals, winning a penalty with a flamboyant dive (which, away from home and with a different referee, might have been rewarded with a yellow card instead of a penalty), and slotting away a cool second from a well-worked move. Happy Days are here again, and the pleasure of watching one’s team defend a comfortable lead (for once) cannot be underestimated.
A pleasant game of golf in the morning (albeit one littered with disastrous shots), and an evening spent watching the Ryder Cup (featuring an incredible array of outstanding shots) completed a thoroughly enjoyable day. The weather this weekend has been stunning – almost too hot at times, but I’ll be lynched if I grumble – and this morning I helped Stephen erect his new shed, which turned out to be a most pleasant thing to do. It was one of those jobs which, on a bad day, could have been a nightmare (bits missing, parts not fitting together, hammers striking thumbs, etc.) but which, on this occasion, was plain-sailing, and very satisfying. I think there’s something very special about sheds. And there was also something very special indeed about the warm flapjack that Helen produced to encourage the workers. Trust me, there’s flapjack, there’s good flapjack, and there’s Helen’s flapjack. Yes siree.
So, City’s unbeaten run in the league came to an abrupt end last night. We feared the worst – Birmingham have started the season really well, and boast a number of really good players who will probably see them bounce back up to the Premiership at the first attempt. It could have been a lot worse, and when we were 2 down after half an hour, I thought we might be heading for one of those humiliating 6-0 drubbings (remember Ipswich last season?). But the second half was altogether different, we got one back, courtesy of a Lee Trundle wundergoal, and could well have equalised, or even won it. We didn’t, but we ambled back up the hill in reasonably high spirits, ready for another chance of our first home win of the season on Saturday, this time against relatively lowly Doncaster.
I do feel I have to shoulder some responsibility for last night’s defeat. At the start of the season, I decided to hoist the City flag outside the house for every home game, thereby ensuring our success on the pitch. And, until last night, it worked – unbeaten in the first 5 games. But yesterday, what with it being an evening game, my having to work late, and lots to do before setting off, including cooking the chilli con carne because Jon was coming to eat before the game, I didn’t get around to the flag-hoisting ritual. So I’m sorry. (Although actually, if Jon hadn’t been coming to eat, I might not have bothered with the chilli, and would have given the family their usual bread and gruel instead, thereby giving me the time for the more important matters. So it’s probably as much his fault as mine. We’re both sorry.)
We didn’t make the trip across the Severn, and probably never will as long as the rivalry between the 2 clubs’ fans crosses those thin lines between banter and abuse, rivalry and hostility. They call these potentially ugly encounters “bubble matches” – rhyming slang for trouble, I’ve always assumed – and the main drawback is that the only way of attending is by travelling stupidly early on one of the official coaches, and being herded around like cattle, and criminal cattle at that, once you get there. So I had to settle for the agony of Radio Bristol commentary, followed by 20 minutes of highlights on telly, which confirmed that the City Boys:
a) played well,
b) rode their luck at times,
c) were unlucky not to score, especially from a Nicky Maynard curler which nearly found the top corner.
On balance, the fact that Cardiff should have been at least one up within the first 15 minutes leads to my verdict that we should be happy with a point, especially given that last season they beat us 2-1 in the equivalent match. Our season so far is closely echoing last year, and if we continue to edge the odd point where last time around we failed to, we should do very well. Tomorrow night will be a huge test, when we welcome recently relegated Birmingham City. The equivalent match last season was the visit of West Brom, who demolished a below-par City side, and went on to win the league in style. So if we can get a point off Birmingham, I will be very happy.
Elsewhere in football, England cruised to a 4-1 thrashing of Croatia in the World Cup qualifiers, which has reignited the nation’s interest in the whole business. Young Theo Walcott scored a hat trick, the commentators went overboard with paltitudes about the boy becoming a man, and Fabio Copello paced the touchline looking grumpy.
Newcastle United are in crisis, after the departure of the Messiah, and were beaten at home by Hull. It surprises me a bit that I’m happy for Hull, who are currently 4th in the Premiership after a surprisingly good start. It should, of course, have been us, but I really don’t begrudge them their success. But as for Stoke, well that’s a different kettle of fish altogether, and I was delighted to see them beaten at home by Everton yesterday.
QPR will have gone home happy after this one, having played almost the entire second half with only 10 men. The sending off of Emmanuel Ledesma (who had been one of their most effective player in the first half, and recently scored a hat trick) was great fun, especially as it occurred in the corner of the pitch furthest from the players’ tunnel, meaning that he had a very long walk in which to enjoy the taunts of the home fans – football really is a pantomime at times. But it was the visitors who had the last laugh, putting all the remaining players behind the ball, and defending well for the draw.
City’s performance in the second half was pretty inept, but at least Lee Johnson had a good game, which should silence some of his critics who, with some justification, blamed him for the Derby debacle. We don’t have to look much further for plenty of other reasons to be cheerful, most notably that we’re 4th in the league, unbeaten, and averaging 2 points per game. And, while Manchesters United and City are signing players for £30 million in the transfer frenzy, we’ve also been flashing the cash, paying all of £140,000 for one John Akinbe from Ebbsfleet United. Who said there’s a big gap between the Premiership and the Championship?!
Spookily enough, the same scoreline as last year’s visit to Coventry. I wasn’t there to see it, but it was, by all accounts, a confident, competent performance to get the season off and running. We’re now 3rd in the table – although league tables mean little at this early stage of the season. Credit to Steve Brooker, for scoring his 3rd goal in 4 games. Upwards and onwards!
If we’d been told a couple of years ago that we’d be playing Derby soon, let alone getting a point off them, we’d have been delighted. The fact that we came away feeling that we really should have beaten them is a measure of how far we’ve come.
That said, we also have a long way to go. After a good first half performance with a hatful of chances and a first league goal for Nicky Maynard, it really looked like an easy win. But Derby in the second half were a different team, and the City boys seemed to have spent all their reserves of skill, flair and panache. The Derby goal came from a real howler by Lee Johnson, which will give his many critics enough ammunition to keep them going until next season (at least). Such a shame. Only time will tell whether this season’s Derby turn out to be a good team to have won a point from, or whether they end up doing as badly they did last season in the Premiership – who knows, the point they won at Ashton Gate on Saturday may turn out to be their only one this season…
It felt rather strange seeing the people who sit in our bit of the Dolman Stand for the first time since our triumph against Palarse in the playoff semi-final, and very little talk of the Wembley let-down, but it was great to be back, and all good fun. Brendan particularly enjoyed abusing Nathan Ellington for being ex-Rovers, and Robbie Savage for being… well, just Robbie Savage.
Not the greatest game that we’ll see at Ashton Gate this season (I hope), but a good result which sees us through to the next round of the League Cup. “We’re going to Wemberley“, sang the East End, which may be a tad premature, given our distinctly mediocre performance – in fact, we were quite fortunate to win against a side from the division below who played with more creativity, and a great deal more commitment.
Highlights were the well taken close-range goals from Carey and Brooker, the tannoy announcement asking “Mr Pete Borough to go home immediately“, and the final whistle. (Everyone was extremely relieved that the Posh didn’t equalise, not because we might have gone on to lose, but because we’d have had to endure 30 minutes of extra time.)
The low points (and there were many) included Christian Ribeiro getting seriously injured 20 minutes into his first team debut (it looked like a broken leg, but fortunately turned out to be ligament damage), Peterborough scoring an easy goal from a defensive cockup to take the lead, and the shite weather (August has turned into November).
One thing’s for certain – we’ll have to be better against Derby on Saturday if we’re to continue the winning start to the season.
So, the season has started again, and the magnificent City boys picked themselves up in their first proper game since the Wembley “disappointment” to win their opening game in style. In truth, judging by the radio commentary and TV highlights, we were rather lucky to win, but a win’s a win. And after all the shenaninigans around getting a decent striker on board, new boy Nicky Maynard wasted a couple of excellent chances, and it fell to substitute Steve Brooker, the old workhorse, to score the winner, from a very difficult angle, in the 90th minute. The City fans, including Brendan and me huddled over the radio in the kitchen, went wild, and the neighbours, unaware that the season had started, probably thought ”Oh no, not this again already…”.
Nicky Maynard provided the best quote of the day, saying afterwards that although he was sorry not to have scored, he was made up for Brooks, it was all about the team, etc., and he was just glad that “we are another step closer to promotion“. Well, Nicky, we are all delighted to be off the starting blocks, but let’s not get too carried away!
This was also the weekend of the Balloon Fiesta, which, of course, meant rain, wind, and an almost total lack of hot air balloons, all very disappointing for my sister and family who came over especially. It amazes me that the organisers persist in scheduling the event for August, which is such a famously shite month in Bristol – they’d stand a better chance of a successful event in the middle of January. But we did see the Red Arrows, a lot of mud, and a woman called Amanda in a pony and trap performing “stunts”, which consisted basically of her steering her unfortunate ponies over a series of speed bumps. Barking mad, but very funny.
This is very silly, but it did make me chuckle. (The banner at the start of the clip means “You’ll never walk alone”.)
Maynard made his debut last night in this pre-season friendly, scored a hat-trick, and sent the fans home feeling that yes, maybe this boy will provide the vital ingredient, missing for so much of last season, i.e. the ability to score goals. Certainly his three debut goals were taken with the confident ease of a very good footballer, and the man next to me was in no doubt that Maynard had already proved that he’s worth the money, and will deliver us to the promised land of the Premiership. Let’s hope he’s right, although it may be just a tad early to tell! (After all, many of us remember the brace of wonder goals that Lee Trundle scored against Scunthorpe in one of his first games for City…)
The match itself was great fun, and the Antwerp side were not as bad as the scoreline suggests. City played very well, with very few mistakes in any area of the pitch, and our other new boy, midfielder Gavin Williams, also looked promising. The real stars of the night, however, were the Antwerp fans. There must have been well over a thousand, and they sang throughout the game, giving their players a heroes’ send-off at the final whistle. Their finest hour was when they danced a conga to a chorus of “Let’s go f*cking mental” in perfect English when their side had just conceded yet another goal. It must be very heartening for the players to have such loyal fans, and I hope we manage to be even half as encouraging to our boys if things don’t always go well this season.
As none of my regular pals were able to come along, I spent quite a bit of time sending goal-flash texts, and soon realised that I’d need to add “Maynard” to my telephone’s dictionary. The best reply of the night came from Laz, responding to my “3-0, hat trick for Maynard!!!” text message. He asked “Yes, but can he finish?!”. Yes Laz, I do believe he can.
Anyway, here’s a clip of those fans:
When I last mentioned Bristol City, it was to rejoice in the signing of Emad Metoab, the Egyptian wunderkind who was going to score hundreds of goals and lead us to the promised land. Well, unfortunately, having agreed terms with City, posed in the red shirt, etc., Metaob then asked if he could play one more game for his old club in Egypt. Not unreasonably, City said that he couldn’t. But the silly boy went and played anyway. Result – one pissed off manager, and one torn up contract. So much for “M” number one.
With the start of the season looming, attention was turned to “M” number 2, Mifsud, a Maltese international (what?! he’s played for Malta?!) currently playing for Coventry. He also seemed promising, and had played there successfully with our Dele Adebola. Great, the dream strike partnership, reunited in red. Again, all seemed to be signed, sealed and (almost) delivered – Mifsud passed his medical, personal terms were agreed, and “M2″ said all the right things about how he couldn’t wait to start playing for “Bristol”, a club he’d always admired, blah, blah. But then his agent started making new demands, most notably a clause in his contract which allowed him to leave without notice or fee if a Premiership club expressed interest in him, i.e. if he does badly we get to keep him, and if he does well he buggers off. Hmmm… Not surprisingly, Johnson showed him the door, and “M” number 2 bit the dust.
Things at this stage were getting rather embarrassing, so desperate measures were called for. “M3″ was one Nicky Maynard, who was apparently the first “M” that the club had approached, but who was regarded as too expensive at the time, at £2.5m (which admittedly does seem rather a lot for a League One player unproven at Championship level). But with the season now only 10 days away, Lansdown decided that he had to dig deep, found the necessary dosh, and Maynard was duely signed, to the delight of the City faithful.
But will he deliver?
The football season will be with us before we know it, and I was delighted to hear last night that Bristol City have finally secured the services of a new striker. We’ve paid £1.5 million for a 3 year contract with one Emad Moteab (pronounce “Metteb”, apparently), who’s a regular player in Egypt’s national side. Given that our main (only?) weakness last season was an inability to score goals, this is great news, and makes me look forward with relish to hoisting the flag outside the house for our first home game. He seems to be the real McCoy, and a proper hero in Egypt – he even features in their Coca Cola adverts, which is as good an indicator of celebrity status as any in this day and age.
His signing has prompted some very interesting exchanges on the fans’ forum about, for example, how best to welcome Emad – some are suggesting that the club shop should start selling a City-branded fez, whilst others propose that we should all turn up to the first home game in Pharoah costumes – and whether such cultural references would be offensive or appreciated. And the presence of City’s first ever Muslim player will certainly challenge some of the less enlightened opinions and attitudes still lurking at Ashton Gate. Let’s just hope he scores a goal or two early on!
Off to the Open on Friday! (That’s golf, of course. And, it’s “THE Open”, not “The British Open”. That’s because it’s the original and most important, as opposed to “The US Open” , or any of the lesser tournaments. No offence.) Stephen and I are heading up to Liverpool on Friday, and plan to spend the weekend watching the world’s golfing heavyweights slug it out for the famous claret jug. Sadly Tiger Woods won’t be there, due to his dicky knee, but it’ll be nice for somebody else to have a chance for once.
My own glittering golfing career hit a bit of a stumbling block the other evening with a defeat in the Autumn Cup, a club knockout in which I had been doing rather well. I would like to have won, of course, but losing was made more tolerable by the fact that we had a great game, played in the most sporting and enjoyable way possible. After I wasted a couple of chances to win it during the final few holes, we were all square after 18, so had to start all over again, setting off down the first for a second time, in the drizzle and fading light. It was finally decided on the third extra hole, with a fine putt from my opponent after mine had finished just short. “Never up, never in” was never more true.
Ah well, c’est la vie. And it really isn’t all about winning. Good behaviour, honesty and courtesy are probably bigger factors in golf than in any other sport… and I often wish that footballers, many of whom are also keen golfers in their spare time, could take some of golf’s good bits back to their workplace.
City’s fixture list for next season was announced today. We start with a trip to Blackpool on August 9th, so it’ll soon be time to dust off the charabanc and get ready for another rollercoaster ride. Actually, there’s so much sport around at the moment that we’ve hardly had time to miss the football at Ashton Gate, but already I feel excited at the prospect of another Championship season. Our final game of next season, in May, will be away to Burnley, and it’s fascinating to wonder how much, or how little, it will matter – of course we trust that it will determine only the size of our winning margin at the top of the league, but there are so many other possibilities, some of which don’t bear thinking about. I was chatting to a Southampton fan the other day, who came so close to relegation last season, and it gave me a reminder of how painful life can be at the other end of the scale. But that needn’t concern us, need it? Just look at all of our new signings…. well, I’m sure there are one or two in the pipeline…
Talking of other sport, we sampled a sporting first at the weekend, with a visit to the Gloucestershire cricket ground to see a professional match. “The Shire”, as I’m told we have to call them, were playing Northants in a 20-20 game, which was not as close or exciting as these games can be. “We” were beaten, fairly soundly, but it was all good fun. I was a tad disappointed that the players wore a team strip of dark tracksuits, rather than traditional whites (not really necessary, given that even a newcomer to the game would realise that the ones with bats were on one team, and that everyone else was on the other), and even more tetchy about the horrible snippets of music that accompanied every boundary or wicket, all part of a drive to get more young people into cricket – which, judging by the few hundred who had turned up to watch, seems not to be working. What was really nice was the relaxing, wholesome atmosphere, a nice pint of cider in the afternoon sun, and a 99 from the ice cream van. As far as the cricket was concerned, the ball was moving around so quickly that I could rarely see it, but all in all it was a very enjoyable experience which I would gladly repeat.
The weekend’s other sporting highlight was a cracking game of footie on the telly, in which Turkey scored 3 goals in the last 15 minutes to beat the Czech Republic 3-2. The game finally brought the European championships alive for me, and I’m now looking forward to seeing Austria beat Germany to put them out of the competition.
What a lovely weekend. Really gorgeous weather, almost too hot for golf (but not quite…), rather too much pollen (but at least I didn’t mistake the Superglue for my eyedrops), and everybody strolling around feeling that summer has finally arrived.
There’s a football tournament going on as well, but I really can’t muster much enthusiasm for that, partly because England aren’t in it, of course, but also because I’m still recovering from the thrills (and spills) of City’s season. I did catch a bit of Germany’s win over Poland yesterday, though. Poor old Poland. As if being beaten by Germany wasn’t bad enough (we should know), the guy who scored both of Germany’s goals was born in Poland, to Polish parents, and is called Podolski. It would be like England losing to Germany by goals scored by a Londoner called Engerlish…
OK, so we lost the playoff final, and we’re all gutted. But, four days on, here are some RTBC:
- Last season was the best ever in my time as a supporter, and next season could be even better.
- If we’d got promoted, we’d have probably lost most of our games next season. In the Championship, we’ll probably win most of our games. And we like seeing City win.
- In the Premiership, we’d have only had 19 home games. In the Championship, we’ll have 23. And we like seeing City play.
- We’re still a division above Leicester, Leeds, and, of course, the Gas.
- We get to beat Crystal Palace and Watford all over again.
- We won’t see Dean Windass, ever again. (Even if we don’t swap places with Hull this time next year, he’ll surely be too old, too fat, or too knackered to play football for much longer.)
We can go on about what a good day out it was, how really we need another Championship season to consolidate our position at that level, how Hull will probably “do a Derby” and come straight back down, but the bald, unavoidable fact is that we lost. And as we drove back into Bristol quietly last night, all I could think about was how different the city would have felt had we won, about all our missed opportunities in front of the Hull goal, about how close we came, and about how disappointed I felt.
