CCFC 1 v 1 BOURNEMOUTH

A ‘demonym’ is the word used to describe where somebody comes from, so that people from Cardiff are called ‘Cardiffians’, natives of Liverpool are ‘Liverpudlians’ or ‘Scousers’ and people from Swansea are annoying. So what is the Bournemouth demonym? ‘Blue-rinsers’? UKIPians? Bewildered? My research suggests there doesn’t appear to be one. It’s not a place that has any obvious identity. A seaside town where sheds of grey slowly rot under vanilla skies, the people who live in Bournemouth or to use the official demonym ‘People Who Live In Bournemouth’ seem to hate living in Bournemouth. 

Here are some reasons why, listed in a website dedicated to ‘The Worst Things In Bournemouth’:

• General ugliness
• Junkies and drunken loonies
• Singing tramps
• Summer tourists
• Winter tourists
• Boscombe
• Chavs, snobs and old people
• Parking meters
• Glitz-Veneered mediocrity
• Townies on the number 5 bus

I hope that hasn’t changed your retirement plans. On the plus side famous People Who Live in Bournemouth include Tony Blackburn, Gordon The Tramp, the woman who wrote Lark Rise To Candleford and the drummer from seminal 70’s band Spontaneous Combustion. No, nor me.

But there is no doubt who most People Who Live In Bournemouth would choose as the Cherry on top of their Victoria Sponge. Eddie Howe has taken the most unfashionable team in England from a position 17 points adrift in the fourth tier to the top of the Championship. This is quite impressive. If the Bluebirds have long been considered a ‘sleeping giant’ of British football then AFC Bournemouth has been the dozing OAP dribbling into the Cat Kisdston quilt of twee ambition. 

Along with most People Who Live In Bournemouth their team seems to thrive when away from the town. Their away form this season has been nothing short of sensational and includes a 4-0 win at Huddersfield, a 6-1 victory at Blackpool and the record-breaking 8-0 thumping of Birmingham. Last time out they beat Fulham 5-1. Cripes! 

On paper this game was a mismatch. Based on recent away form Bournemouth are ranked No.1 while City’s home form over the same period puts them down in 22nd. Every outfield Bournemouth player has scored this season; tonight’s strike force has contributed 30 goals between them and their midfield has chipped in with 25. In contrast we rely heavily on Kenwynne Jones who’s netted 13 times. His partner upfront tonight, Revell, has scored just twice since joining us in January. The next best contributor after Jones is defender Morrison with 6.

So when after 5 minutes our ponderous defence stood back and allowed the opposition to fire against the bar from outside the box, a subdued home crowd could see the writing on the wall. On 15 minutes our worst fears were realised as our repeat offender defenders offered Harry Arter the chance to take aim, Moore’s positioning and anticipation perhaps suspect as the ball flew and dipped over him from 30 yards. 0-1. Bournemouth continued to dominate possession looking every inch a settled, confident, organised well-drilled outfit capable of performing well on a bigger stage. 

In recent months we’ve grown accustomed to abandoning hope at this point. But results at the CCS haven’t necessarily always reflected the balance of play, happenstance and blunder often combining to frustrate us. Tonight after an unpromising start the back four tightened up, the midfield competed and we performed well against superior opposition, displaying a spirit and belief that has been absent, drained by reverses on the field and distracted by events off it.

We were also blessed by the presence of Lady Luck, making her debut at the CCS this season and lending a helping hand in the battle against the previously undeniable dead hand of dubious decisions. Lee Mason a PL regular proved to be a soft touch, easily swayed by an opposition schooled in the dark arts but crucially making the wrong call on the big decisions. Each one to our advantage.

In the first half Charlie Daniels turned in the box and as The Devil Went Down For Bournemouth (unavoidable gratuitous reference to 70’s bluegrass crossover hit) we held our collective breaths before releasing a triumphant ‘yee-hah!’ 

Later in the game, after Bruno had levelled with a powerful header ghosting into the box to meet a Whitts corner, and with the opposition searching for the winner, Mason chose discretion and his own PL ambition over valour by ruling out a perfectly legitimate if unconventional Bournemouth winner. Moore blasted a clearance against the back of Callum Wilson which rebounded off the bar into the path of Wilson to poke the ball over the line. There was no infringement, no obstruction and to compound his misery Wilson was shown a yellow card. Hey ho…and thank you Mr Mason.

The match stats suggest that with 66% possession Bournemouth will consider they did enough to return home with three points, and a couple of months ago they surely would have run out comfortable winners. But there’s evidence of a renewed determination and belief in recent performances as our squad adjusts to the new management regime, suggesting that while we’re some way off being contenders we’re no longer the whipping boys.

As for The Cherries, part-owned by an ambitious but discreet Russian billionaire who rarely ventures out of his Sandbanks mansion, and managed by an engaging fresh-faced nice guy, they may well sneak into the Premier League, quietly, without making a fuss. And The People Who Live In Bournemouth will surely find that most agreeable.

CCFC 1 V 2 CHARLTON

Buoyed by a convincing midweek victory we approached this game with a renewed sense of optimism. 

I know, I know, but ’an acquired sense of indifference’ doesn’t quite cut it. After all we’re not here not to give a damn. Of all the many gestures associated with being a footie fan the Gallic shrug isn’t one. Our allegiance is absolute and unconditional or it is nothing. Doubts and misgivings should lead to despair and existential crises not mealy-mouthed reticence. We are black or white. Red or blue. Either we’re up or we’re down. The Grand Old Duke of York should not be welcome here. And Robin, if you’re halfway up the stairs you dozy frog you’re loitering and you’re going to feel my boot.

If football has a disease it’s not hooliganism, it’s mania - our support is bi-polar. Psychotic. Hopeless. Incurable. So ‘C’mon support the boys. And. Make. Some. Nooooooise’. Or else. Don’t.

Unfortunately there was indifference aplenty and apathy in abundance at the CCS this afternoon. A sparse crowd seemed content to bask in the early spring sun and contemplate brighter days ahead when the winter burdens can finally be offloaded. Which is a shame really. With just a little more commitment from all concerned and on the back of improved performances we might have been able to put a run together. To what end though? A few more miles on the clock on the road to nowhere? For most the end of the season can’t come soon enough. 

It wasn’t a bad performance all things considered but a couple of defensive lapses and our inability to turn possession and territorial advantage into genuine chances proved our undoing. Again. Trollope has got the players working to a plan based on a slow build up and short passes with plenty of movement. If he can work out which pairing upfront is most likely to unlock defences he might be onto something. For me it’s got to be Jones + a significant other. That other is not Macheda (although a goal here will probably secure him a run until the next inevitable drought) and it’s certainly not the plodding Revell. Doyle may make some kind of impact if given an extended run, but of the current crop a fully fit Joe Mason might best be suited to feed off the big man. It would also help to have someone on the pitch with the ability to run at defences from an advanced midfield position. 

Defensively, Manga is the only stand-out player and he put in another assured performance today. Morrison can’t cut it as his partner - ponderous in his decision making (his clumsy challenge in the box lost us the game today) and wayward in distribution. Connolly did well getting forward today but remains fallible and Peltier’s contribution would be more effective if playing in his natural position at right back. Fabio’s continued exclusion is mystifying, maddening and inexcusable.

One last gripe. The lack of an authority figure, a leader on the pitch. Captain Marshall was absent today and I believe Gunnarsson was nominally in charge for the 30 minutes he was on the pitch. But I doubt if anyone in the crowd was able to work out who relieved him of the armband. I heard mention that it was handed to Noone. As enthusiastic as the little wide man is, he clearly lacks the gravitas for the role. It’s great to see General Trollope directing events from the sidelines but he needs a trusted lieutenant on the pitch. 

As for Slade, he combines the tactical nous of Melchett with the strategic thinking of Baldrick. Of late he’s had the public profile of a Borrower. It can’t be long before fans are asking ‘What is he for?’

So another half-decent performance produces an ill-deserved defeat against run-of-the-mill opposition. The commitment of the players can’t be faulted and there are reasons to concentrate on that rather than the result, but there remains a disconnect between the team and fans. The very limited ambition of survival has been achieved. Ho-hum. Fire and Passion indeed.

CCFC 0 V 1 WOLVES

‘If you hadn’t flunked math you’d have been set by now’   Willy Loman, Death Of A Salesman

CCFC 2013-14 PL Income     £80m

PlayerTransfer costs (- £44m)

Player Salaries             (- £46m)

One Stunned Norwegian Blue  (-  £2m)

                                                    
                                                =  - £12m

As hard as it is to stomach, having botched the one chance of securing the club’s future through a deadly combination of petulance and hubris, Vincent Tan, the man who put the ‘sin’ in business, the ‘mug’ in smug and continues to take the ‘p’ out of propriety, is to all intents and purposes our last hope. The debt to VT now stands at £130m. And this may not include a new loan of £7.5m set at 8% interest through another shady off shore finance company which shares a director with the club’s holding company. (8%?! I’ve done the research and you can get a 0% balance transfer rate on Barclaycard…)

Now it may be the case that despite our (not unreasonable) misgivings we’ve got Mr Tan wrong; that none of this is his doing and he’s not the flawed calculating crazed scheming megalomaniac that he’s sometimes made out to be. Isn’t it just possible that really he’s terribly misunderstood, has our best interests at heart and our present plight results from incompetence not malevolence? Nah. It’s personal. After all, to quote the recently departed Mr Spock ‘once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’

Due to the ongoing and perhaps terminal indifference that a City home fixture now produces we arrived to take our seats unfashionably early, fairly flying down the uncluttered apathetic roads. The echoey stadium and the overwhelming sense of futility at least allowed for nostalgia, a last refuge for the disheartened. We stopped on the way in to read some old team sheets posted on a kiosk selling ‘retro’ shirts, the names of Likely Lads ‘Davies’ ‘Carver’ ‘Bell’ ‘Toshack’ ‘Clark’ ‘Sayer’ ‘Alston’ ‘Evans’ etc. producing an involuntary wistfulness for lost youth and thwarted ambition. ‘Ooh what happened to you? Whatever happened to me? 

Anyway, moving on…

We’d heard a rumour that The Scoundrel was planning to make his first appearance of the season. (I steadied myself with a pathological disregard, the news dispatched direct to the junk folder of my consciousness). Ten minutes before kick-off a discordant ripple of applause drifted across from the grandstand as in the distance in some half revealed hinterland where chronic self regard meets the  cult of personality Tan glad-handed and invited selfies, swaggering his way around the edge of the pitch. Fickle fans ran down to pose with their occasional nemesis, all animosity lost in a haze of psychotic fawning as the charismatic authority of the bogeyman won over the feeble minded. 

Somewhere above the ground - Star Date 2015  - Leonard Nimoy raised a pointed eyebrow at the illogicality of the scene. Star Trek series 3 episode 4 ‘Without followers, evil cannot spread’ - Spock

We started brightly against one of the outside bets for promotion. Wolves, well-drilled by the experienced and able Kenny Jackett and supported by a well stocked and vocal away section, were always likely to present a challenge to a home team who despite a fortuitous away win in the week at Malky Mackay’s doomed Wigan have been struggling to adapt to the Slade / Trollope regime.

An early booking for Wolves fullback Iorfa as he lunged at the rampaging Noone promised a fun day out for the diminutive wideman and he didn’t disappoint. Up front Jones was winning the aerial battles and with the lively Doyle looking to feed off the knock-downs there were reasons for early optimism. We were generally better organised and while clearly some way off the finished article the process of assimilation is progressing, the players at last looking generally motivated and confident.

Having had the better of the early exchanges it was a real blow to go behind after 25 minutes. A smart rapid break out of defence had our central defenders on the back foot and pulled out of position, the ball finally breaking to Malian international Bakary Sako who side-footed past the stranded Marshall.

Inevitably with the team’s belief brittle, heads dropped as the early energy dissipated. The opposition began to take control, sitting back and dealing confidently with any threat.

This pattern continued into the second half as Wolves dominated possession without ever really threatening to take advantage. When they did threaten it usually resulted from the generosity of a flaky back four as we invited their front men forward with some wayward clearances. Following one Connolly gift Whittingham was obliged to calculatedly take one for the team, scything down Sako and earning a booking. Apart from the outstanding and ever-consistent Manga the defence was  again problematic with the right-sided Peltier playing on the left, allowing Connolly whose more assured  performances have come in central defence, to play right back. 

There’s been nothing settled about the back four during Slade’s time and this needs to be addressed by ditching the out of sorts Morrison, bringing Connolly inside and giving the right and left sided berths to defenders whose brains are wired accordingly! Easy really. 

On 65 minutes Whittingham was dispatched from the field of play for the first time in his (occasionally) illustrious career after an inexplicable touchline lunge. The great enigma is rarely piqued but with his creative powers severely diminished perhaps he could see the writing on the wall. A long spell on the sidelines awaits. Time for the criminally under-deployed Adeyemi to be given the chance to provide some grit to an underwhelming midfield.

The sending off although deserved was particularly galling after referee Madley had bottled it, failing to red card Iorfa for a tackle on Noone that was at least as severe as the one that merited his early yellow one. That old sage Jackett read the runes, immediately giving Iorfa the order of the hook to save him from himself

The sending off seemed to galvanise the team, as it so often does, and we enjoyed our best period of play. But ultimately the narrow misses, goal-line clearances and a half-decent shout for a penalty counted for nothing as we slumped to another, albeit undeserved, home defeat. Up in the handsomely up holstered director’s box the blue-shirted bizarrely upholstered owner surveyed the mess of his own making with malign equanimity, apparently ‘very happy with what he’d seen’. Highly illogical indeed.

‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one Mr Tan.’ 

- Spock, The Wrath of Khan (adapted)