When the next history of Cardiff City Football Club is written it seems certain that the name of Emiliano Sala will loom large, the circumstances surrounding his disappearance and presumed death perhaps as significant as the contribution of bone fide legends and folk heroes. The man who would never have more than an ephemeral photo-op grip on the famous blue shirt held it as proudly as any that went before him eager to embrace new possibilities and the promise of future glories. His personal tragedy will in all probability be as defining a moment in the history of the club as any glorious cup run, promotion campaign or boardroom intrigue.
With his signing came the promise of renewal, a new impetus for the current faltering campaign and the hope that we might be able to consolidate and build for the long term. His agonising disappearance, and that of the pilot, is desperately poignant. As we contemplate the implications from our narrow perspective and mourn the loss of an unrealised potential, his dignified family is still desperately searching for answers that will probably never come.
The response of the club has been exemplary, its executives supportive and under great duress displaying a unexpectedly deft human touch. A distressed Neil Warnock has suffered a cruel twist of fate at the end of his 40 year career in football management and is clearly struggling to come to terms with his ‘most difficult week’. His response and that of the players and supporters in the coming weeks will be hugely significant in determining the long term future of our club. Warnock accurately describes the situation as ‘unknown territory’; it seems unreasonable to expect a positive outcome.
The great sports journalist Hugh McIllvaney who died last week reminded us that sport is a ‘magnificent triviality’, implying that sport is a distraction, an all-consuming pastime but one that rarely captures the essence of the human experience. The Emiliano Sala tragedy transcends that narrow definition.
Under normal circumstances, ie. any other circumstance, having the kick-off time rescheduled to suit the broadcaster’s business imperative is accepted grudgingly, a minor inconvenience offset by the knowledge that, against all expectations, the wider world is interested in the fortunes of our little team. Today’s match is bigger than itself, it’s an occasion, an opportunity to display a united front to the watching world.
The hierarchy of a football club is not easy to define. The ownership is temporary, the executive provisional, the manager, coaches and players transient hired hands. It’s overly sentimental to claim that the club belongs to the fans, but we are its one constant and arguably we have the most at risk, with the least influence.
The intersection of the Venn diagram of all those that have a stake in the club forms a critical mass at this difficult time, any peripheral areas of conflict or disaffection pushed to the margins. There will be no censure today, rather a mutual respect ensuring that all will be applauded from the arena whatever the outcome.
The laying of flowers and personal memorabilia outside the ground is affecting, the sentiments genuine, never mawkish. The muted, respectful crowd is like no other pre-match gathering I can recall. What is today? A wake? A celebration? Just another game? The uneasy ambiguity will only be resolved once the game gets underway. And that can’t come soon enough.
Inside the ground silk daffodils are handed out in a tribute to the missing striker (which will have irritated those that had already paid the opportunist hawkers outside the ground for an inferior product) and through a combination of individual gestures and those organised by the club the missing striker and pilot receive due acclaim. The minute’s silence is respectfully observed, the plaintive cry of a seagull above the Ninian Stand the only sound to break the silence.
The game which had seemed almost incidental to the main event kicks off, and it’s down to business. There had been plenty of evidence in the narrow away defeat to Arsenal in midweek that the team was capable of showing great resolve as they turned in a performance that the manager described as one of the best of the season.
We make a lively start and are helped by an opposition clearly in a benevolent mood, defender Cook inexplicably raising his arm in the penalty box in direct view of referee Moss. Following some debate about the nominated penalty taker (don’t they resolve such matters in training…?) Bobby Reid steps up to blast the ball at goalkeeper Boruc who generously and theatrically dives out of the way. 1-0. Reid runs to the touchline to be handed a T-shirt adorned with a picture of Sala which is shown to the crowd.
As anticipated Bournemouth dominate possession and spend a long time encamped around the edge of our box. City’s back four hindered by the absence of injured captain Morrison hold firm, Bamba making a number of superbly timed interventions. His ability to read the game and to assess danger is exceptional, often undermined by wayward distribution out of defence. Today he is flawless, directing the back line and in total command of his brief.
The versatile Jack-of-all-trades Paterson is given a wide role today and links up well with home debutant Niasse running the channels, always alert and forcing the opposition defence on the back foot. Murphy has a number of forays down the opposite flank, providing low decisive crosses tantalisingly beyond the reach of an attack at fault for not anticipating the possibilities.
Murphy, Paterson and even Reid epitomise a spirited team display by being prepared to track back and help their swamped defensive colleagues, allowing Bournemouth few chances in the first half. City’s defence remains resolute, the Cherries only real attempt on goal coming from outside the box - captain Surman’s strike superbly tipped over the bar by the flying Etheridge ensuring that finally, for the first time this season, we go into the break ahead.
Within 15 seconds of the restart while most are still making their way back to their seats or else not really paying attention (guilty) Reid has doubled the lead, narrowly breaking the offside trap and cooly dispatching the ball past the advancing Boruc. 2-0. Wow!
Bournemouth had stunned Chelsea in midweek scoring four in the second 45 so with half the game still to play nothing can be taken for granted. The anticipated assault arrives and on the hour all round decent chap, and a shoe-in for future England manager, Eddie Howe reinforces his attack. If the assumption was that City’s doughty defence would tire (it was) their response is hugely encouraging, providing some reassurance that they are capable of meeting the challenges ahead.
Bamba has already been booked but makes a couple of rash challenges, Jonathon Moss indicating that he’s one more indiscretion away from dismissal. But the defensive line holds firm as Bournemouth who might fairly be accused of trying to walk the ball into the net struggle to take the initiative. As the game opens up we have one or two chances to extend our lead, substitute Zahore unlucky not to score late on.
For the last ten minutes the ground reverberates to the sound of a heartfelt tribute to Emiliano Sala as extended applause and a specially-composed Canton End chant bring the game to a fitting conclusion.
A tearful Neil Warnock walks to every corner of the ground to honour the fans’ contribution in this turbulent time and we marvel at how his team has managed to put in the most complete performance of the season in the most difficult of circumstances. We reflect at the hold this ‘magnificent triviality’ has over us, and wonder where it will take us next.
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