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.’
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