CCFC 3 V 1 IPSWICH

There was a spring in the step tonight as we hurried purposefully along Ninian Way dazzled by the beguiling lights of the CCS, drawn like so many moths to its urgent flame, our gossamer spirits so recently lifted, our blue blue hearts quickened and newly emboldened to defy every new challenge. As Nina Simone might have sung: Bluebirds in the sky you know how I feel….it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me  and I’m feeling good!

We were blessed again this evening by the continuing conspicuous absence of Vincent Tan as we welcomed The Muppetts’ Sam Eagle (aka Mick McCarthy) and his Tractor Boys. Unfortunately the Malayasian malingerer was far from the only absentee in a sparsely populated stadium. 

The official figure was 20,191 which included around 5,000 season tickets holders nominally present but in fact at home throwing back the lager and trying to get Live Champions League football to sync with the Radio Wales radio commentary. I’ve tried it - it doesn’t work. But the lager helps.

Slade made one change from the Forest victory, the fully fit Fabio happily restored to left back. He kept faith with the Macheda - Le Fondre combination upfront but worryingly there was no place even on the bench for Jones, a bold if questionable move considering the way our top scorer had begun the campaign. 

We started slowly and were on the back foot early on as a spirited Ipswich team took charge, Welsh international Jonny Williams, on loan from the Premier League, looking dangerous around  our box, occasionally making a fool of the ordinarily unflappable Manga.

Pilkington transparently had the best of the early chances getting keeper Gherkin in a right pickle with a tasty double effort to spice things up at the other end.

Difficult conditions during a spell of heavy rain and squally winds saw both teams struggle to retain the ball as the game drifted. On 30 minutes Fabio abandoned prudence in favour of a crowd-pleasing kamikaze burst out of defence, losing possession to Murphy who took full advantage of the Brazilian’s largesse to plant a 30 yard curler wide of Marshall. 0-1.

We regrouped and a spell of pressure from the home side produced a poorly defended corner, the ball arriving at the favoured left foot of Whittingham just outside the box. Inexplicably the rustic muttonheaded Tractor Boys failed to close him down as Whitts swung his cultured left peg. Before you could say “leave Norfolk and hope’ the ball was nestling in the back of the Ipswich net.

So 1-1 at the break. A disjointed first half ending with a flourish and promising much for the second 45. Within two minutes of the restart Noone collected the ball in the box, drifted wide and pulled back a floated cross to the far post. The ball was knocked down into the path of Macheda who slotted the ball in from close distance to give us the lead.

On 48 minutes the crowd rose as one and applauded for a full minute to acknowledge the 48th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aberfan_disaster ) Full credit to the Ipswich fans for participating.

With Fabio, Noone and Pilkington storming down the flanks and chasing back just as assiduously, an aggressive midfield holding sway and a no-nonsense-none-shall-pass central defensive partnership, the side was hardly recognisable from Solskjaer’s dispirited disengaged shapeless dog’s dinner of team. 

On 70 minutes Gunnarsson, gratifyingly restored to his role as long throw supremo, collected the towel just below us and buffed up his charge ready to deliver a Scandanavian slug into enemy territory. Le Fondre reacted first and beguiled the opposition defence with a tame scuff which rolled apologetically past a flattened Gherkin. 3-1.

There were a rash of substitutions with 15 minutes left on the clock, the most noteworthy being the withdrawal of playmaker Williams who received an ovation from all sides of the ground. Expect the boy to be a permanent fixture in the national team as Bale and Ramsey lead us to a brighter day…

To finish, a word for the referee: shocking. And another: Inept. Why stop there, I’m on a roll now: bungling, incompetent, maddening, infuriating, English.

Well that’s it for me for a while, I’m off scouting for talent in South America. I leave my team in rude good health, 3 points away from the Play-offs, only 7 shy of the summit. Who’d have thought eh…?

‘Bluebirds having fun you know what I mean

Sleep in peace when the day is done

And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me

And I feel good.’

CCFC 2 V 1 FOREST

CCFC 2 V 1 FOREST

I spent the hours before our lunchtime kick off listening nostalgically to Jarvis Cocker’s R4 Extra tribute to John Peel, a barely believable 10 years after the great man’s untimely death. For my generation and for all of those who tend to favour the iconoclast over the populist icons of the age this is as close as we’ve got to a ‘Diana Moment’. Without the mawkish faux grief. And mercifully free of a Tony Blair figure artfully claiming him as ‘The People’s DJ’.

Ten years ago we were in our second season back in the Championship and approaching the end of Lennie Lawrence’s reign. The team that beat Rotherham 2-0 in front of 11,004 fans on 16th Oct 2004 included such luminaries as Tony Warner, the on-loan Gary O’Neill and coming off the bench to make his home debut a 17 year old Joe Ledley. A brace from Peter Thorne’s magic hat saw us rise up the table that day. To 21st. 

We were to finish 16th in a season that saw Rotherham condemned to the third tier alongside Gillingham. And Forest. If we’re still wounded after our one failed shot at glory, imagine how desperate Forest must be to regain their glory days which brought them successive European Cups and saw them as top tier regulars for two decades.

Under Stuart Pearce they’ve started well this season, enter the game undefeated and sit comfortably in 2nd place behind pace-setters Norwich. The contrast with our faltering start to the season could hardly be greater; likewise the managers. One an experienced former England international captain with 78 caps - 76 as a Forest player - who’s managed the England under 21 side as well as the British Olympic team, the other a former P.E. teacher pushed into the limelight after a 20 year career standing in the wings.

The new man made a few changes, some forced on him by illness and injury - the most significant being Fabio’s late withdrawal - which meant a another stopgap full back solution with Ralls slotting in. Disappointingly Ravel Morrison was out injured and Kenwynne Jones started from the bench, Slade preferring a Le Fondre - Macheda partnership up front. 

It was a lively start from both teams and there were early opportunities at either end. Former Canton End darling Chris Burke was finding far too much space, giving Ralls a torrid time. After some trickery in the box left the dazzled City defence requiring an unlikely goal line clearance from Craig Noone, the ball broke and Macheda was put through on the edge of the penalty area, jinked past a defender and cooly passed the ball wide of Forest keeper Darlow who might have done better. 1-0 after 22 minutes and the former Man Utd striker’s first Championship goal of the season. 

Five minutes later Whittingham found himself in space to slot the ball home at the near post. 2-0 and just the start the new manager was hoping for. The team was looking leaner, meaner and  more committed than any time under Solskjaer. Apparently those that were not on international duty in the week were called in for double fitness sessions (whatever that entails…) and it showed. The new mood was epitomised by one Craig Noone chase back and sliding tackle and a general no nonsense ‘no-one passes me’ approach from the magnificent M.O.M. Manga, apparently jet-lagged having arrived back from Gabon in the early hours.

The midfield was dominant, Gunnarsson controlling it and Whittingham playing with a swagger and poise that has been absent for some time. The home fans were loving it, taunting the opposition with antagonistic and anachronistic ‘Nottingham Scab’ chants, no doubt drawing a malevolent smirk from the face of Thatcher’s ghost as the enemies within grant her the right to divide and conquer from beyond the grave.

The half-time tributes acknowledged the passing of Welsh poet and lifelong City fan Dannie Abse 

who attended his first game in 1934 and, as one eulogy acknowledged, ‘wrote of sweat and woodbines on the cloth-capped Bob Bank’.

Forest came out refreshed for the second half and forced the pace. They may have pulled a goal back early on but the extravagantly, rhythmically named Assombalonga was adjudged offside. At the other end a curving Whittingham free kick evaded the Forest line, bouncing into the path of Morrison who, arriving late at the far post was unable to direct the ball past Darlow.

Jones was introduced on the hour mark, replacing Macheda, and Adeyemi was brought on for the tiring Gunnarsson but pulled up after less than 3 minutes to be replaced by Daehli. Ralls was brought into midfield and Noone pushed back to take over left side defensive duties. The enforced rejig didn’t work. Forest took advantage and slowly began to take control. 

The central defence held firm and the tireless Brayford dealt with the right side threat but we were always likely to be vulnerable on the left wing and it was no great surprise when Antonio got behind Noone to send a fizzing cross into the path of Assombalonga to reduce the deficit with 89 minutes on the clock.

We survived a panicky 4 minutes of time added on to take all three points and make the perfect start for the new regime. The result was hugely welcome: the performance more so. For those of us nostalgic for the recent past this represented a reassuring return to the solid workmanlike approach of Mackay and Jones. The new manager seems hewn from the same stone; solid, unfussy, down to earth. Tan may have inadvertently uncovered a real gem in Slade. Next up at the CCS are Ipswich on Tuesday night - a chance for the Tractor Boyz to Cum on Feel The Noize…