READING
6.5.2018
A glorious day in Cardiff and all is set fair at the CCS. With the Premier League the prize our fate is in our own hands. Perhaps. Surely the footballing gods won't be exercised enough to load the dice for a final twist of fate? I imagine they’ve already convened:
So, who have we got today? Cardiff? Oh we’ve had some fun with them over the years. Hah! Remember 2013-14? Back in the top tier after 50 years and they’re playing in red! The ‘Bluebirds’. Priceless! Who’s in charge these days?Warnock? Oh now we like him. Yeah, we probably owe him one after the Tevez affair https://www.theguardian.com/football/2009/mar/16/sheffield-united-west-ham-carlos-tevez And removing his eyebrows was a tad mean. OK let’s go with Cardiff then. By the way, what happened to that old rogue Vincent Tan? He’s what? Still there? Ok boys get the dice out. And…..roll!
Let the gods have their fun. May fate have it’s day, But if it fancies the day off perhaps serendipity will seize its chance. Ooh look - lucky pants. And threadbare scarf, a veteran of previous successful campaigns. A sunny Bank Holiday weekend in May? Perhaps everything’s falling into place…
Arriving later than planned, providing a gratuitous extra edge to the day, we take our place in the longest queue at Gate 5. There are nervous, sweaty handshakes and unconvincing rictus grins all round before we take our seats, the pre-match banter unable to achieve a consensus other than ‘expect the unexpected’. There is an unspoken acceptance that ‘the natural state of the football fan is bitter disappointment’ (Hornby).
A nice touch as former players with a proven promotion pedigree Campbell, McNaughton and McPhail are paraded around the touchline. A rousing rendition of ‘Men Of Harlech’ morphs into ‘Right Here, Right Now’ as the gladiators ‘summoned all at Cambria’s call’ enter the arena.
An early glance to the Away End seemed to indicate that the Reading fans had been infiltrated by an excessive number of security goons in garish hi-vis lime green jackets. Its now apparent that this is the Royals away strip, a kind of radiation chic, a sartorial miscalculation which at least limits any defender’s excuse for being blind-sided. ‘I never saw him Guv’ isn’t going to pass muster.
It’s apparent early on that Reading know they can’t compete in pure footballing terms and have come to secure a point, and their place in the Championship. They sit deep, slow the tempo and look for any excuse to waste time. A minor injury early on sees five or six players taking an extended drinks break before being shamed back into action by an exasperated crowd.
A promising run from Mendez-Laing with a trademark step-over and inviting floating chip into the box to the towering Bamba confirms that the players are on top of their nerves and playing in lead-free boots.
Up in the director’s box the invited south east Asian elite look down on proceedings with a stuffed shirt indifference that gives way to bemusement as events in the Midlands cause swells of relief around the ground. The word is out that Birmingham have taken an unlikely lead against Fulham whose result we need to at least match today. The contagion spreads to the pitch, lifting the players as we begin to dominate. Hoillet is taking control on the left side and shortly after a narrow miss past the near post he’s felled in the box, but the officials are unconvinced.
Zahore finds space in the 6 yard box after another Bennett - Hoillet link up but scuffs his shot. A succession of corners and free kicks whipped in by Ralls and long throws into the box fall kindly for the opposition and frustration is setting in.
Just before half time my radio commentary switches again to St Andrews. Another goal for Birmingham settles the nerves and with scores at the other end of the table assisting Reading’s cause, the half time whistle is welcomed with a renewed belief that the day will end well for both teams.
Half time entertainment is a combination of small boys in the park having a day to remember and ‘bubble football’ - a bubble-wrapped free-for-all for older, should-know-better boys having a day to forget, a kind of Jeux Sans Frontieres for millenials. All that’s missing is a faux hysteria commentary from a soon-to-be disgraced family favourite.
The home team is first out for the second half, the reluctant Royals ambling onto the pitch in their own time. The game follows the template laid down in the first half. We have a number of half chances that might have been converted on another day but as each opportunity goes begging the normal frustrations and anxieties are pretty much absent on the pitch. It’s as if the players are waiting for a prompt from the crowd.
On 80 minutes, as the security heavies set themselves up around the pitch, news arrives from St Andrews that Fulham have pulled a goal back. There is a momentary shudder, a jolting reminder that a number of scenarios may yet be played out, that calamity, karma or kismet may have a say. Nah.
On 90 minutes as the fourth official puts up his board showing 5 additional MPN Double Glazing ‘we’ll not be beaten on price’ sponsored minutes, Birmingham score a decisive third goal. Pandemonium breaks out as members of the Canton End cognoscenti think its all over…a decision that they may well live to regret when the mandatory lifetime ban kicks in. Eejits!
After a farcical few moments of Reading playing uncontested keep-ball the referee makes his way towards the touchline, blows his whistle and scarpers off down the tunnel. The security goons throw in the towel as thousands of rampant fans break free of the tensions that had held them back all afternoon and propel themselves onto the pitch. The scoundrel Tan is there to greet them, lofted high in all his misjudged Trumpian conceitedness. It’s not about you, you schmuck.
So what’s next? After the Tan-inspired anti-climactic 2013-14 campaign we all hope for better this time around. I’ll let the real figurehead, inspiration and principal pragmatist manager Neil Warnock provide a proper perspective: We’ll be odds-on for relegation…so we’re going to enjoy it…hey-ho, it’s better than playing in the Championship isn’t it?’
