Match Preview
So far so good. We approach today's game on the back of the most
significant result to date last Saturday at Craven Cottage. The games against the top 6 might be
considered the sweet crispy upper crust atop the Clark's Pie of our Premiership
campaign, but the real meat, gravy and gristle can be found in games against
the likes of Fulham. And Newcastle.
My inner-geek tells me that our eight points represent a return of 1.33
recurring per game which extrapolated over the season should mean that around
the time we're indulging in some well-merited Scouser / Suarez baiting at the end of March we'll
have already bagged ourselves another season in the top flight.
So far so much supposition. Of course it won't be that easy. But after
some exceptional performances the demeanour of the average Bluebird has moved
up the wellness scale from hard-wired pessimism to cautious optimism.
Of course it's not in our collective psyche to be anything other than realistic
about our prospects.
This is not an affliction shared with your average Geordie who despite
his team's modest achievement of three second tier title wins since the war
still believes that the combined spirits of 'Wor Jackie', Sir Bobby Nice-Bloke and
curly-coiffed King Kev will one day rise and return them to their rightful
place of, well, perennial top-flight underachievers at best.
In fact their trophy cabinet is about as replete with trophies as Old
Mother Hubbard's was of dog bones. Their last trophy was the Texaco Cup. In
1975.
But their admirable passion for and belief in their team persists. Their
fanaticism, however delusional, is unrelenting and despite rebranding attempts
that would make a Malaysian squillionaire squirm, they continue to wear their
hearts on their sleeves and their Wonga affiliated chests remain pumped out with
pay-day pride.
Things haven't been going so well for the Magpies of late. Clearly
disillusioned by events off the field and current form on it, recent forum
posts include:
'They are all French , they canny understand a word Pardew is saying'
'Jesus, I don't have badges but our defending is just an arse out joke
sometimes'
'They will proper embarrass us over 90 mins man'
Wor Geordies give ower bubblin! Yus alwes chunteren!
CCFC 1 v 2 NEWCASTLE
When a team's as maddeningly
inconsistent as The Magpies are, nobody gains - the Manager gets the blame when
they underperform as they did in a woeful first half performance at Everton
mid-week, and little credit when they do turn it on, which they did in the
second half at Goodison, but to no avail. The fans are up one week, down the
next, and the opposition can have no clear picture in advance of the personnel,
tactics or morale.
In our epic games against Man
City, Everton and Tottenham it was clear in advance how the opposition was likely
to play and we were able to formulate a game plan and stick to it.
Planning for this one Malky might
just as well have consulted that master strategist and inveterate
syntax-mangler Donald Rumsfeld as Newcastle's season suggests that 'There are known knowns; there are things we
know that we know. There are known unknowns; that is to say, there are things
that we now know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns – there are
things we do not know we don't know.'
Well now we know. From the early
minutes we were taken aback by the quality, organisation and commitment of an
opposition supposedly in disarray after recent performances. By contrast we
looked hesitant and anxious, and were unable to settle. The first half was
littered with stray passes and the solid unified force that had been so
impressive recently evaporated in a haze of self-doubt and confusion.
Newcastle looked comfortable on
the ball and were finding time and space to dictate the play. Remy, Sissoko and
Cisse in particular looked a real handful and but for Marshall's early heroics
Newcastle would have taken the lead some time before Remy eventually opened the
scoring on 30 minutes after being allowed to run free in the box and beating
Marshall at his near post. Just seven minutes later as a buoyant Newcastle
continued to push forward, Cisse's shot was parried to Remy to double their
lead. The contest might easily have been settled before half-time when a Cabaye
free kick thundered against the post.
Prior to the game we had been
entertained by the Treorchy Male Voice Choir performing 'Men of Harlech' and a
couple of other dispiriting numbers which completely punctured the intensity of
the pre-match build up which was suddenly as raw and intimidating as a valleys
revivalist meeting. Instead of introducing the teams the Reverend Ali might
have announced that 'the reading today will be taken from...'
At half-time to compound the
felony the Treorchy boys set up in front of the away fans and wrapped their
tonsils around 'Blaydon Races'. The Geordies loved it! 2-0 up away from home
and the opposition is serenading you with your own stirring anthem just to
banish any lingering doubts that you'll be gannin hyem with three points! The
whole enterprise was a monumental misjudgement. Perhaps we shouldn't be
surprised. The choir's repertoire apparently includes their interpretations of
Bob Marley classics. Which has all the fawning incongruity of a bunch of Morris
Men dancing to negro spirituals. Lively up yourself boys - stick to what you know.
Kimbo was replaced by Mutch at
half-time in an attempt to take control of midfield. It worked. We were
transformed from the ponderous first half team guilty of standing off and letting
the opposition dictate. We were now clearly in the ascendency with Mutch
allowed to pick the ball from deep and rally the team. We dominated from the
restart and it was no surprise when we got one back on the hour. A Gunnarsson
break found Odemwingie in the box who cooly side-stepped a lunging defender, a
deft feint sending Krul sprawling as the former West Brom man baggied his first
goal for the Bluebirds. Game on. Belief coursed through the team, every 50-50
challenge was won, every sinew strained for the cause.
Mutch was at the heart of the
transformation and was unlucky not to level the scores, just failing to lift
the ball past an advancing Krul. Bellamy replaced Campbell and Odemwingie
departed early to take the applause, replaced by Maynard. But despite a number
of half-chances the equaliser was beyond us.
This was a game where the pundits
can legitimately deploy the 'game of two halves' cliché. Pardew admits to being
puzzled by his team's form. Clearly that inconsistency can occasionally work
for you by unsettling the opposition. As we departed, slightly confused by the
turn of events, in one corner of the ground 'thor wis lots o' lads
and lasses there, all wi' smiling faces.'
