THE PREAMBLE RAMBLE
So who’s up next? Ah, Man City. Well ‘It never rains but it pours…’
and the creditable performance against the Gooners in a narrow defeat last time out at the CCS might now be seen as the first drop of rain in the following storm. The subsequent 4-1 defeat to Chelsea was more than a bit demoralising as after a bright start we were overwhelmed by the singular footballing genius of Eden Hazard stepping up to rain on our parade. What can we reasonably expect today against the raining, sorry, reigning champs, a team on their day probably the finest on the planet?
On balance I think anything short of catastrophic will be a fair outcome.
Where might we look for words of inspiration, encouragement, consolation as we face the apocalypse? When I find myself in times of trouble and Mother Mary can’t be found, in the search for someone speaking words of wisdom I often turn to the candy-flossed master of sweet reason, the Leader of the Free World, Donut J Trump. Perhaps we can all take solace in these fine words as he settled the nerves of a restless nation ahead of the recent Hurricane Florence:
‘We are ready. We are as ready as anyone has ever been. This is going to be a very big one. Tremendously big and tremendously wet’
Well can I get an ‘Amen’? I said can I get an Aaaaaaay-men?’ No. I didn’t think so.
An analysis of Trump supporters has identified certain psychological traits, one of which is Relative Deprivation, defined as ‘the discontent felt when one compares their position in life to others who they feel are inferior but have had more success than them’. Which rather neatly sums up the mental state of the majority of long-suffering Bluebird fans. Perhaps The Donald’s our man.
After all, in a post-truth world where appealing fictions override facts our approach to today’s game might benefit from some fantasy football, delusion and denial. Yeh, it’s gonna be totally great, absolutely tremendous, the best, beautiful, mark my words...
In the event this was the mismatch that we all feared it might be. Sean Spicer and Comical Ali would have struggled to find an alternative truth to hide behind. Warnock made a couple of changes at the back, bringing in Cunningham and Peltier and moving Manga alongside Morrison but it proved no more effective than rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. This ship was going down with all hands.
The gulf between the teams was tremendously big, played out in conditions that were tremendously wet. The driving rain and swirling winds might have provided grounds for optimism, as poor conditions are often seen as ‘a leveller’ and for 30 minutes we looked capable of at least competing. Sure, there were signs, Sane and Sterling breezing past our hapless full backs as Aguero and Gundogan made their darting runs, somehow finding space in a crowded box. Gundogan inexplicably blasted over from 6 yards but our centre backs weren’t fazed by the task, Manga in particular controlling the line with some decisive interceptions.
The midfield occasionally hit The Sky Blues on the break but the disconnect with a hesitant front two was in stark contrast with an intuitive opposition and we always looked vulnerable to a quick break out. Guardiola the master tactician, interviewed after the game hinted at frustration to make an early breakthrough and indeed cut an exasperated figure at times. The tactical changes he directed were so subtle as to be imperceptible to the untrained eye (mine) but profound in their impact as suddenly we were two down, Ageuro’s opener on his 300th appearance for the club quickly followed by an impudent Bernado Silva looping header.
We looked demoralised and it was no surprise when Gundogan effectively ended the game as a contest just before the break, firing into the top corner after neat interchanges with Sana and Sterling.
A pattern has emerged over the last three games. We seem able to compete in the early exchanges but once found out we’re not capable of adapting. Perhaps a lack of resources doesn’t allow for tactical changes but the apparent inability to spot the flaws and make the necessary alterations is troubling. We set up with a 4-4-2 and stuck with it. And perhaps this will be sufficient against the less stellar opposition to come. Warnock has huge reserves of goodwill to fall back on generated by our surprise elevation to the PL but pressure from the terraces and in the boardroom will intensify in the coming weeks if we fail to pick up points against our peers in the (footie lexicon alert!) ‘relegation dogfight.’
The players left the field at half time as Bob Marley exhorted us all not to ‘worry bout a ting’ but I searched the leaden skies in vain for ‘tree lickle’ birds’, finding nothing but a mocking flock of seagulls, providing little reassurance that every lickle ting was gonna be alright in the second half. And so it proved.
Peltier was stretchered off within a minute of the restart as in an effort to keep track of Sana his head turned a full 360 degrees in its socket, the physios unable to reconnect it with his torso. Guardiola’s charges continued to bewilder, befuddle and discombobulate at will. On the hour Aguero (current value £72m) was granted the rest of the day off, replaced by the £60m Riyad Mahrez. Warnock responded by replacing the £1m Danny Ward with (fee undisclosed) Kenneth Zohore.
Mahrez’s impact was immediate and tangible as within minutes he whipped in the first goal since his summer signing. Despite some well received taunts aimed at the travelling fans from the Canton End (sample: ‘Four nil and you still can’t sing’ and ‘we’re gonna win 5-4’) the majority of the home fans decided they’d seen enough. As they filed out, a tired, benevolent Manga passed the ball out to Mahrez to allow him to complete his ‘brace’ - a strange antiquated term normally associated with the shooting of grouse in an uneven contest between the rich and influential and the vulnerable and defenceless. So entirely appropriate.
Bob Woodward’s recent expose, Fear: Trump In The White House takes its title from the shrieking pumpkin’s claim that power depends on frightening people. It’s all very well for Gary Lineker to say that this was ‘not a game to judge Cardiff’ but we are frightened. The ‘ill-fitting suit full of chickens coming home to roost’ would surely approve.
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