CCFC 2 v 1 BIRMINGHAM

ONE GIANT STEP FOR TAN

The preamble ramble

Tonight Wales’ first city takes on England’s second city in football’s official Battle of the Sleeping Giants. True, Brum have occasionally been stirred from their slumbers, had a stretch, stifled a yawn and perked up just long enough to smell the coffee (we’ve only recently opened one eye and had a brief look around before returning to our preferred state of second-tier hibernation) but surely the good times are just around the corner for both sets of long-suffering fans.

The two perennial under-achievers are linked by a common history of mismanagement set against a back story that has all the elements of a conspiracy thriller with a list of characters including Tinkers, Tailors, Soldiers & Spies.

I

n the 1980’s Birmingham were owned by the Kumars, not the jovial eccentric family of British Asians from Number 49 (goodness gracious me no) rather the clothing chain owners of the extended Kumar clan who unfortunately chose to put their financial affairs in the hands of BCCI and went into receivership following the liquidation of the Pakistan-based bank whose clients included Saddam Hussein, the Afghan Mujahadeen, the CIA and Oliver North’s Nicaraguan Contra insurgents.

In 1993 The Blues were rescued by those sleazy Black Knights of adult entertainment Old Penarthian Porn Peddler David Sullivan and David ‘all that glitters is not’ Gold. When they finally left Birmingham around the time that Sullivan and the Sorcerer’s Apprentice Karren Brady were arrested by the City of London Police on suspicion of conspiracy to defraud and false accounting (unproven) Sullivan expressed a desire to invest in The Bluebirds and allegedly had meetings with Sam Hammam (minutes unavailable but use your imagination!)

In the meantime between 1995-99 the Kumar brothers had of course resurfaced. Where? Ninian Park. It came as no surprise that despite their connections in the trade the Emperors had no clothes and in 2000 the club passed into the hands of Sam Hammam, the littleTinker!

Back at St Andrews, in 2010 ownership passed into the hands of Birmingham International Holdings, a firm owned by Hong Kong-based businessman Carson Yeung and registered in the Cayman Islands. In June 2011 Yeung was arrested for money laundering (I think we’ve been here before).

We must consider ourselves extremely fortunate to be owned by our current benefactors. Imagine the consternation if our club was placed in the hands of a mysterious Asian backer whose motives were unknown, with no previous history in the sport. I mean, you wouldn’t sleep at night would you...?

CCFC 2 v 1 BIRMINGHAM

Tonight’s game held open the tantalising prospect of matching the record-breaking 5 straight wins at the start of the 1946-47 season. Birmingham’s recent form, a 0-5 reversal at home to Barnsley followed by Saturday’s unexpected 1-0 victory at league leaders Brighton put concerns about our own occasional inconsistencies into the shade and meant that it was difficult to know what to expect. However, after Saturday’s convincing best-of-the-season performance against Blackpool there was every reason to be optimistic.

It was clear from the start that our tails were up as our free-flowing football had the Brummies chasing theirs. The left flank in particular looked threatening with Taylor getting forward and allowing Noone and Bellamy to dominate play early on. Only the inability of the increasingly superfluous Helguson to anticipate the openings offered by the wily wingmen prevented the Bluebirds from capitalising on their early dominance.

The failure to take advantage of the early supremacy saw the game deteriorate, along with the weather (forcing those of us in the semi-protected cheap seats to again question the wisdom of our thrifty instincts). A soggy half-time stalemate seemed inevitable as behind my sodden specs the game took on all the clarity of a dreamy abstract watercolour in the rain. Then on 39 minutes I spotted a clear gap between the top of my glasses and the hood of my coat that a splodgy number 7 ran into, threading an incisive through ball to a smudgy number 5 in an unlikely advanced position who played a first time ball into the path of a streaky number 39, a Whitts-Hudson-Bellamy combination producing a goal of ethereal simplicity. 1-0 at the break.

Birmingham seemed the more revitalised by the rest and pushed us back in the search for an early equaliser. On 54 minutes after a rare foray into enemy territory Hudson, chasing back, hauled down on-loan Swansea man Leroy Lita on the edge of the box and was shown a well merited yellow card. Burke caught out a hesitant Cardiff defence placing the ball beyond the wall for Lita to run onto and fire past Marshall. It was a poorly defended goal but a deserved break for the resurgent Blues.

Fortunately Hudson was able to make amends for his lapse within 3 minutes as following a swinging Whitts corner and some confusion in the Brum defence he made a typically predatory strike latching onto a loose ball to fire past Butland. 2-1.

Back in control of the game we had a number of chances to increase the lead with Bellamy bullying the opposition and the tricksy Noone and Mason always looking a threat. Bellers, soon after being booked for an uncharacteristic rant at the Ref(?) after being denied an obvious penalty left the field in some discomfort with 10 minutes left. Up in the grandstand the visiting Vincent Tan stood in supplicatory silence, hands held as if in prayer as his prized asset left the field. (Interestingly Tan stood for the entire game and looked fully engaged, as enthralled by the contest as any other, well, fan).

We held on to our advantage with some comfort to complete a record-equalling victory and as the players left the field to the news that Brighton had again messed up at home to lowly opposition and we had replaced them as Championship top-dogs, Tan appeared pitch-side in a warm (but manful) embrace with his manager. The cynic in me says he was pleased at witnessing the rise and rise of his stock; the fan in me recognises someone bitten by the footie bug.

Are the days of intrigue, behind the scenes plotting and scheming finally behind us? Who is this enigmatic Oriental, a character straight out of central casting with his Clark Gable pencil moustache and an inscrutable air? Is he the man to help us finally realise our unlikely dreams? The plot thickens...