You never know.....

Who says lightening can't strike twice?

 

"A" for Effort

The "Lavery-Revolution" of the past month has pushed us up the table possibly further than we dared to imagine just a few short weeks ago when relegation loomed awfully large.  It seems just five minutes ago we were looking at the two games against Subury as making or breaking our season. And probably our Club.  Now, we sit safely in lower mid-table.  Had we been offered this at the start of the season we would have rioted in the streets.  Now, we'll happily take it and look forward to better next season.

The five straight league wins are obviously what has put a far better complexion on 2023/24 than was looking likely, but I think Lavery has given us something else, which is probably just as important.  Self respect.

Although it was pretty clear we were never going to pull back the 2-0 halftime deficit at Stratford last weekend Lavery continued to cajole, abuse and encourage the players to fight.  And they did.  We created a few half-chances and ran our balls off until the final whistle.  Six months ago, hell, even six weeks ago we would likely have shipped two or three more goals in the second half as we went through the motions.

Earlier this season the players would have more than likely ignored "grumpy-gramps" Leese and "earnest bestie" Le Masurier.  They'd have jogged around the pitch, trailing in the wake of the opposition players fully expecting to shrug their way through a post-match bollocking and pick up their wages.  Not now.

I find it curiously heartening watching our tiring players put in yet another lung-bursting chase or charge-down under the scowling, withering ranting of the Manager.  No more sitting back.  No more just rolling over and taking it.  

Sounds mad to say it, but if nothing else this season Lavery has given us back the ability to "lose properly".  There are always games where, on the day, the opposition are better than us.  They use the ball better.  They get the rub of the green.  Earlier this season that would have meant clean kit at 90 minutes and a sack of goals in the "Against" column.  At Stratford we got in faces, fought hard, saw players carried off and had a final whistle dust-up.  And we got the bonus of seeing the oft-booed cry-baby Hussey whine for 90 minutes to the officials.  I'll take that.

I don't know how it works
and I don't much care!

When is an April Fool NOT an April Fool?

Eagle-eyed regular readers might just have picked up on my ever-so slight issue with the club's perennial fund raising raffle - the Krooked Klondike.  Every so often I might have alluded to the fact that not only did I never win the damn thing, but that certain unnamed club worthies, who may or may not also be the Club President, seemed to find my continued lack of success most amusing.  To such a degree I was never entirely certain my tickets were always making it into the tombola ahead of the half-time draw....

I may have mentioned something of this in the odd article on Patgod, but even I was surprised that typing "Klondike" in the Blog's search engine yielded at least three dozen articles about how badly the club had treated my loyalty over the years.

Well, despite the efforts of that unnamed club official, who's initials may or may not be KS, on Saturday, at home to Barwell IT FINALLY HAPPENED.  

That's right, KS (if those are his initials and he may or may not be the Club President) wasn't on the Klondike selling table when I entered the ground and made my purchase.  45 minutes later, despite being stationed next to the duffest tannoy speaker in the ground, I was pretty certain the number called out matched one of the tickets in my clammy fist.  A few minutes into the second half I bumped into my nemesis, who upon hearing of my good fortune pretty much confirmed my long-held suspicion by congratulating me whilst also letting me know in no uncertain terms that had he been selling the tickets this wouldn't have happened.

I

KNEW

IT.

However, never let it be said that I'm the one to let this rivalry continue to fester.  I'm happy to be the bigger man and declare a truce.  I'm going to let bygones be just that.  When I enter the ground next Saturday it will be with a clean slate.  All previously animosities forgotten.  I'll just make sure I only purchase my Klondikes from Gary Foreman from now on and everyone will be happy.

Happy Days.
As long as I don't stop to think of how much I've spent
over the years for this one moment in the sun.....

The Dave Singh-cident

Overshadowing the vital victory over Stratford this weekend was the bizarre incident involving everyone's favourite other-Father, Dave Singh.  Dave was escorted out of the ground after a Stratford player got in the ear of the linesman and managed to twist an utterly innocuous terrace comment into something that caused the referee to threaten to abandon the game unless Dave was ejected.  I can only hope the Stratford player in question is proud of his actions and the linesman is content to have been played like a poorly tuned piano.

 

Leaving aside the obvious ridiculousness of the incident a more disquieting thought occurs.  In an honest attempt by the sport to rid football stadiums of overly foul, racist or homophobic abuse, brusque terrace badinage runs the risk of being twisted by thin-skinned players playing the system.  Are you a player getting a bit of abuse for stealing a few yards at a thrown-in?  Get jeered for slicing a clearance?  Mention to an official you've been singled out for racist abuse.  The referee will sh*t himself at the thought of not doing the right thing.  So what if an innocent fan or two are ejected?  So what if those supporters are tarred with being known as racists.  So what if the club they support gets an unjustified reputation.

Poppies social media have been all over Singh-gate and rightly so.  

As we all know, there are many reasons to dislike Dave Singh.  It's never his round at the bar.  His beard tickles when he kisses you after the Poppies score.  That bloody blue coat he's owned since the 80's.  The way he always manages to insert himself in front of you on the terrace.  His dumb-ass, annoying-as-f*ck, cheery optimism.  The mouth-meltingly hot curries he makes.  

So, so many reasons to take against Dave that pathetically making up a sneery, racist slight shows how utterly classless the player was and how dangerous it is for officials to blindly take the word of a player over such emotive issues when there is absolutely no corroboration and dozens of witnesses are telling you the exact opposite.

An artists impression of when Dave still had friends

The Big One

The importance of  tonight's match-up cannot possibly be overstated.  A match between the forces of light and the forces of shite.  Apparently there's a football game this evening between Kettering and Sudbury, but I'm talking about the clash between the two Tory MP's representing both towns.

On the right, in the blue corner is James Cartlidge.  He has been Sudbury's MP since 2015, during which time has has served  as the Parliamentary Under Secretary of State for Justice, Exchequer Secretary for the Treasury, and Minister of State for Defence Procurement.  The bugger is still not even 50 years old.

On the even further right and in the even bluer corner is local boy Phillip Hollobone who, despite being in the Commons twice as long as James has never come close to holding any official office.  Even Peter Bone was briefly given a job as the Deputy Leader of the House of Commons FFS!  When you consider how many PM's he has served under, and the absolute shit-show of changes in personnel under them, it takes a special kind of dim-wittedness to somehow be passed over for so long, by so many.

However, he DOES own a rather old union jack coat that, no doubt, he'll be wearing about the town when the General Election comes, when he'll be trying to blame all societies ills on everyone and everything but himself and his party despite being in power for the past decade and a half.

James Cartlidge - Justifiably Smug

Phillip Hollobone simply can't believe
we keep electing him

Trial by Television

It’s hard enough watching us play lately, but for those of a particularly masochistic bent, even more self harm can be derived from the post-match interviews on Poppies TV.

First we had Andy Leese, whose media strategy can be summarised as:

·       If we didn’t lose, it was all down to him and the clever decisions he made

·       If we lost, it was because the players hadn’t followed his instructions

·       And it wouldn’t happen again on his watch (it did)

Initially Jim was a breath of fresh air, speaking apparently from the heart and with a healthy dose of common sense.  But this miserable stretch of results has slowly sucked the life out of him, to the point where he has literally run out of ways to answer the question, why are we so shit?

For fans of the genre of trying to polish a turd, a collector’s item was the opening query after Telford, where Jim was asked if he had seen any evidence of improvement since Long Eaton.  After... a long pause... he suggested that we had kept our shape for the first 20 minutes.

Somehow, despite being demoted to ball wiper and other duties as required, Jim seems to have kept the media gig judging from the latest sorry spectacle.

Possibly the new boss is being kept away from the camera after his debut appearance almost crashed under the weight of so many obviouslys, including six in a single sentence.  

But more likely, Lav was still otherwise engaged delivering the mother of all bollockings and sent Jim out to do the honours.

Unless results improve (please God) can we make a humanitarian request.  Do the interviews have to be so long? There’s nothing to be gained from making the poor man field yet another question to which we already know the answer. Wriggling politicians get off lightly compared to the Poppies TV inquisition!     

Is this the worst Poppies team in living memory?

I suppose it depends on what constitutes "living memory" but there has to be a case for holding up the class of 23/24 as possibly the worst Poppies squad certainly that Patgod has seen.  Sure, we've often assembled teams with shoddy players in it, but it is difficult to look back and identify a whole squad that has so woefully underperformed over so long.

Some of the early to mid 1980's teams were pretty ropey, but they were teams that still managed to avoid relegation from what was the top tier of non-league football.  The team that was finally relegated from the top division in the early 2000's wasn't great, but it won promotion the following year.  Mind you, the team that was relegated again the following season, rock bottom of the Conference was pretty piss poor.  But again, it was a team being relegated from what would now be the National League, so that in itself must garner a kernel of respect, surely?

In the battle to be crowned "Worst Poppies Team Ever" it really comes down to a straight fight between our current team and the last one to be relegated from this division in 2012-13 season where even if we hadn't been deducted 10 points we'd have still finished rock bottom by a further 10 points.

A closer analysis of that season and this one throws up quite a few disquieting similarities.  

Both seasons followed relegation from the National League structure into the Southern League Premier.  Both seasons took place against a backdrop of an owner actively seeking to sell the club.  Both seasons saw a revolving door of players and managers where you rarely bothered to learn new players names as they had a shelf life of less than a month.  And that was if they were any good.

But are we being entirely fair to the class of 2012-13?  During that season we barely escaped from Non Park to Steal Park.  We stopped playing for a month.  We were back in Court facing winding-up orders.  We were literally piecing teams together on a weekly basis.  We had an owner who didn't give a f*ck and a prospective owner about to be handed a 5-year ban from football.  Clearly 2012-13 was a clusterf*ck of clusterf*ckedness.  

We were rightly relegated and were frankly an embarrassment to Kettering Town FC, the town of Kettering, the County of Northamptonshire and the Southern League.  And yet.....

This season we may well have shuffled off an owner and a shed load of managers and players, but we are a far more settled club.  We know, barring the merest hint of rain or the lightest of frost, where we're playing.  We're getting several hundred punters through the doors.  We have a thriving off-field scene.  Our only problem is getting 11 sufficiently qualified and motivated players onto the pitch wearing red and black.  But, here we are, getting regularly thumped by tiny clubs from tiny towns and are reliant on other clubs going bust or being patently not good enough to be in this division to give us even a CHANCE of staying up.  

2012-13 was always going to be a crap season.  2023-24 we started off pondering, if not promotion, at least a good showing and a possible tilt at the play-offs.

We have a couple of games coming up against Sudbury that will go a long way towards deciding our fate this season.  But even if we somehow pull ourselves out of current nose-dive I think we would be hard pushed to award worst Poppies team in living memory to anyone but the current crop.

Now, Lavery, print this article off and pin it to the dressing room wall.  Show it to the players before they take to the pitch.

We've tried everything else....

Beginning of the end?