STEVIE SETS THE RECORD STRAIGHT
By
Mickey Blue Eyes

By an amazing coincidence there are two brothers named Steven and Paul Gerrard who travel on The Bus to away games. You couldn’t make these monikers up in the local footy context. So on the way down to Reading Stevie and Paul decided to set straight a subject that had obviously been bothering them for some time. I am obliged to recount it as a sort of holiday gift of atonement.

A few seasons ago it seems I did a match report (when I could be bothered doing these things regularly; time moves on when you have interests other than football) of a game at notloB. Just prior to half time Stubbsy bagged one with a spectacular shot that almost decapitated a couple of diving, panicking defenders. As is their wont it set the away following singing happily for the entire half time interval –

“Alan Stubbs!
Alan Stubbs!
Aalan Aalan Stubbs!
He gets the ball
And he scores a goal
Aalan Aalan Stubbs!”

Try listening to that for fifteen minutes without going off your cake. These days it’s all part of the “match experience” and “atmosphere.” Or something.

Stevie now claims – delay? what delay? – I gave passing, bemused credit for starting the song to “Geoff and Paul.” Since I don’t keep records of these accounts, and my memory automatically ignores trivia, I have no way of confirming whether I did or not. Then Paul owned up his brother was right; it therefore falls to me belatedly to correct the report. Undoubtedly this will prevent you losing sleep tonight: send your thanks to Stevie, not me. However, irony was rife at Reading because he was then denied entrance to the game for celebrating the holiday not wisely but too well. In his defence one has to say their stewards were an even worse brain-dead tribe of knuckle-grazing neanderthals than anything spawned in the north east. He got in anyway, but that’s another story. Still, take my tip and stay away from white Belgian beer. It's dynamite. Tastes like it too.

Reading’s rise through the divisions is a huge credit to them and so is their new ground. One shudders to think of their previous abode when they inhabited the nether regions of footy in one of those antiseptic Daily-Mail/Tim-Henman towns that surround London like lower middle class semi-detached bunkers………Pete Seeger’s “Little Boxes” and Walt Whitman’s suburban “quiet desperation” made manifest. Appropriately, even the new ground is next to a huge bladed aerofoil and a brewery, the kind of thing some benighted schmuck might think imparts “atmosphere.” Thinking back, I can’t ever recall The Old Lady and its industrial grey cladding gaining anything from Walton’s steel-shuttered shops, greasy chip shops, sullen pubs and litter-strewn streets and back entries, or for that matter the old Old Trafford gaining anything from the nearby then-decaying industrial estate.

It was doubtless this kind of dichotomy the Reading chairman had in mind when he was interviewed and asked how he enjoyed the sport in general. To which he sensibly replied, “Who said I enjoy it?” Given the club’s relative achievements it was a startlingly honest assessment. His club, it seems, incredibly, have their own perennial moaners, as do we, the sort with the IQ of a torn welly. Every club – every group of humans for that matter – has them, always has had, always will have. They are as inevitable as fleas on a dog and useful only for mild amusement. Which, if you need to exercise it, should be done in the same way Mel Brooks took the piss out of the Ku Klux Klan in “Blazing Saddles.” Now that IS enjoyable. But so is footy if you aren’t a card-carrying member of the misery-arse club.

We played well and with spirit at Reading and thoroughly deserved the win. In the end we could have won by more. It was a tight, well-knit team display against an opponent who didn’t have that much to offer. The result looked inevitable almost from the kick off. I wouldn’t be surprised to see Reading go into free fall at some point despite their excellent draw at Chelsea. Consequently it wouldn’t do to go overboard about the result, even though it was our second away win of the season. Reading had a few sparky moments that made it easy to see how they sometimes caught out unaware opponents. But in the end they were easily snuffed and contained. Moyesy’s team building continues as he learns and makes fewer mistakes. Not that that’ll make any difference to the misery platoon, not when they have a personality – ANY personality – to whinge about. Today it is David Moyes. Tomorrow it will be someone else. The day after, yet another. It would be no different if we were top of the table. In direct contrast, once again Mikky made a goal, AJ scored it and made another for Jimmy Mac and everyone deservedly celebrated the holiday. But feet on the ground, people, there’s still a long way to go and everyone with his head screwed on knows and accepts the common sense of it. Thankfully, actually playing footy is quite different from the ridiculous hype and tedious accountancy exercises.

Which was confirmed in our following match, appropriately with The Smoggies of Middlesbrough.

You remember Boro don’t you? They were another club who had a local “Sugar Daddy” whose personal millions supported them before rightly he decided it was a mug’s game and checked in with reality. Basic arithmetic took over once the novelty wore off. Since then they’ve pottered around doing nothing in particular. Given their playing record this season nobody expected a grand spectacle, nor did we get one.

But the Boro Sugar Daddy isn’t alone. Unsurprisingly the dodgy Russki at Chelsea has started making monetarist noises, as have the Yank Glazers at the Theatre of Dweebs. Football reality dawns slowly; alas, still slower amongst a certain type of never-satisfied fans’ mindset. And the more recent takeovers are talking transfer funds that wouldn’t buy a book of postage stamps at current player “values.” That’s another one in the eye for the nutters who want all kinds of dosh put in and haven’t the slightest idea how to pay it back, never mind get it in the first place – the kind of birdbrain who says things like, “Get Terry Leahy in for his business acumen!” and then when Terry Leahy DOES get involved……………guess what?……………IT IS THE WRONG SORT OF INVOLVEMENT!……………..Yes, of course it is……………According to the everywhichway crackpots, that is. If you have the misfortune to listen to one of these old women you’ll know they’re a bit like Billy Connolly’s famous take on female decision-making: “I want some o’ THIS, I want some o’ THAT – and I want it NOW!” And that’s before they fold their arms, hitch them under their man-boobs and say, “Until I change my mind.” As if the game doesn’t have enough real and serious problems without a background of gibbering baboons.

As expected, The Smoggies didn’t make much of a game of it and eventually it petered out goalless because – as all this and last season – we had nobody in midfield to provide that decisive touch of control and strong support for the front men. Despite a good first half we couldn’t press it home in the second largely because of the outstanding display of their two big centre backs. This is what separates us from a top four place, not any comical half-arsed notion of how we go about the game. It’s the players, stupid. Or, more accurately, being able to afford the type of players we need. If we ever get them the league placing will probably change as quickly as the method, as it would at any other club, as it did when Joleon Lescott and Andrew Johnson arrived. (Then again, perhaps we shouldn’t have bought them …………Why not stick with what we had and risk relegation? It’s dead easy balancing this football business………..ask Charlton and West Ham.)

Then came the home game versus The Skunks, another north east club down among the dead men, dosh or no dosh, stadium or no stadium, takeover or no takeover. Which is why there are no guarantees in football for anyone, even with new players, a logical conclusion that will escape the Noddy Club for all eternity. Once again the game demonstrated the advances made under David Moyes. This time we hope he can sustain his good work. If he ever leaves I shudder at the prospect of someone as limited as Ian Dowie coming in, a move that would satisfy only the Moyes haters.

Once again we played well and could have had a few more. The Skunks didn’t threaten for any length of time and didn’t have much to offer. A margin of three clear goals was quite enough though.

Andy van der Meyde was on from the beginning and lasted longer than any other game I have watched him in. What is infuriating about him is how good he looks on the ball when he gets it, how he looks as though he’s going to tear the opposition to bits with superb crosses and positional play and dribbles……………then, nothing. In this game he looked magnificent for the first ten minutes or so and then got under everybody’s radar and disappeared. One cross from the left reminded me of Dave Thomas or Andy Hinchcliffe at their best. All it wanted was The Big Yin on the end of it. Then, alas……….

Not that it mattered that much. We were one up after eight minutes, two by ten minutes after half time, and three a few minutes later. Young Anichebe (easy to forget how young he still is at eighteen) got the first two through sheer muscle in scrambles around the goal area. The third came when Mikky and Phil Neville made monkeys out of a wretched Skunks’ defence when a wide right free kick was played short to an onrushing Phil, he miskicked badly right edge of the penalty box and it sailed in despite their ‘keeper getting a hand on it. From then on it was just a matter of how many. A bit more midfield strength and it would have been a lot more. Mikky and Lee Carsley had good games but we still look lopsided.

Andrew Johnson is clearly back to his best after the “diving” propaganda. Their centre back got such a roasting he was gone after half an hour or so, probably before AJ smacked in one or two. Young Vic, still raw, did a good job holding up the ball when needed, though his first touch really needs working on. If he can manage that he’ll be a really strong all round player similar to Alan Shearer. Together, he and AJ worked well and promise a good future combination.

Our defence was excellent once again. What more is there to be said about Joleon Lescott? Everything he does is almost beyond complaint. He more than compensates for Joey’s Weekly Howler – in this game another loose swing at a clearance with nobody near him. Buck up, Joey, before it costs us; otherwise, as you were. Once Lee Carsley got closer to Martens he managed to contain him after an uncomfortable first twenty minutes.

Apart from Martens, The Skunks had nobody else when they opted to play Scott Parker as a midfield holder. What a waste of a magnificent player. If only he had come to us instead of Chelsea and Newcastle, two mistakes I think he will regret for a long time. The nearest Newcastle got to scoring was when they got a flurry of corners just before half time, made a mess of all of them and then brought on Sibierski’s height to help. Unfortunately for them he never got the chance, though Tim Howard had to make another of his first class saves at the Park End when we were three up.

An encouraging sign in this game was the first half period when we were playing it around in neat little triangles, the sort of thing all confident teams indulge when things are going well.

However, going into the new year, it seems obvious we need someone to take over from Lee Carsley as age begins to affect his form. It isn’t easy to see who – perhaps Phil Neville – because he has delivered really well and not let us down since his return from injury. Apart from that the team is young and still has some developing to do. Two more good players who fit in and I think we will have a top four side. Of course, a sizeable squad is quite a different matter.

The big questions now are: What (if any) new players will come in in January? And can we get stronger in the second half of the season? As I write, we are seventh and handily placed if we can put together a good run. Short of a catastrophic collapse of confidence or bad run of injuries the immediate playing future looks good. But as I said, there are no guarantees in football, not for anyone. The sooner your local misery arse gets that into his empty head the better.

Meantime, enjoy, enjoy. You only get one shot at life. (02/01/07)

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