4.12.2010
CCFC 1 v 1 PRESTON NORTH END
It was 10 years ago, in January
2000 when a 7 year old Bob Bank Betty (at the time a fledgling Bluebird perched
in the grandstand Family Enclosure) refused to leave early after Preston had
scored a fourth with a couple of minutes to go to complete a demolition job on
the City who were wallowing in the lower depths of League 2, that provided
concrete evidence that she would be tied to her team for better or for worse (the
years since have emphatically leaned toward the ‘better’ of course) for the
rest of her natural. I think we can reflect on a decade of success beyond our
wildest deranged imaginings.
My earliest memory of the Preston
fixture involved missing the 1968 1-0 home victory in favour of Joanna Davies’
birthday party and regretting it. Not even a spirited game of Postman’s Knock
and a weird game involving blindfolds and blancmange could make up for it. What
was I thinking?! Mind you she was a bit of a looker, from memory. And she had a
pony. And her Dad was a doctor. Still, no excuses.
History records some mighty
contests between City and the boys from Deepdale mostly ending in heavy defeats
for our boys including a hardly believable 0-9 reverse in season 1965-66 and of
course the 0-6 loss that was to condemn us to finishing outside the play-offs
by one goal in 2009. So considering Preston’s current plight at the bottom of
the table having conceded more goals than any other team, and knowing what we
are capable of on a good day, this was surely the perfect opportunity to exact
revenge.
On a bitterly cold, dull, damp
decidedly depressing December day all we desired was a little chink of light to
shine through the gloom, a little warmth for the cockles. Surely today our
halls would be decked with boughs of holly in this, our jolliest of seasons.
It didn’t start well. Within
minutes Bothroyd ran on to a perfectly weighted through ball but as he shaped
to shoot pulled up and looked to be in big trouble. He departed, to be replaced by Keogh and the
next we were to see of JB he was standing near the dug-out wrapped up against
the cold, hobbling around on crutches. Twang! There goes our season.
To be fair to Keogh he began
well, linking with Bellamy as we threatened to convert our obvious superiority
against a stubborn but flair-proof Preston side. We were comfortable without
dominating play and it was a bit of a shock as much to the travelling Preston
fans whose numbers couldn’t even be accurately
described as a ‘handful’ - more
of a thimble-full, a pipette, an apology, an ‘absence’ of fans. Naylor
collected the ball and under no real pressure decided rather than take the
obvious safe option down the wing, to spread the ball across the defensive line
into the path of a grateful forward. Hudson was left with no option other than
to clatter in from behind and got a booking for his troubles. The resulting
free kick took a deflection off the wall and as time stood still the ball
rolled apologetically beyond a stranded Marshall. 0-1. This seemed to
completely sap the confidence of the team as the slick well-oiled finely-tuned Rolls
Royce so evident until the November Nightmare started playing with all the
finesse of, well, a Morris Marina or Austin Allegro at best. Passes went
astray, the ball was sent up time after time to the absent Bothroyd and even
the normally reliable Mc Naughton and Burke were falling prey to the general
malaise. The half-time whistle was met with a chorus of boos and the feeling
that ‘well at least the second half can’t be any worse’.
Unfortunately it wasn’t any
better. Worryingly, the performance mirrored the Forest and Swansea defeats. We
had plenty of the play but were devoid of ideas and the formerly telepathic
understanding, neat triangles and link play was replaced by bad decision making
and ineptitude when on the ball. We seem to lack self-belief and are playing in
fear of messing up.
Preston, desperate to hang on for
the unlikeliest of victories resorted to spoiling tactics which killed the game
as a spectacle. We had plenty of chances, but as with the Forest game, it was
shaping up to be ‘one of those days’. With 10 minutes to go and as a steady
stream of fans headed for the exits (if Bob Bank Betty had allowed, I think I
might have joined them) Gypes popped up and headed goalwards only to see his
effort cleared off the line. Our last chance surely. The officials found 5
minutes of extra time from somewhere but even that lucky break didn’t seem like
it would be enough. However, as the radio commentary team was telling me that
this defeat would confirm the worst home run for 4-5 years, up popped Olifinjana
to knock down to Keogh who bundled in his second City goal.
A welcome point rescued but a
morale-sapping performance and I make that 5 points from the last 18 available.
Somehow we are still second which is at least reassuring and gives credence to
the notion that ‘anyone can beat anyone else’ in this league. But we need to
rediscover our October form. And fast.
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