Just couldn't separate Duffy and Perry for this award today. They both spat out enough dummies to keep Mothercare going for the foreseeable future, and both kissed the ground more than Pope John Paul II on a whistle-stop tour of South America.
An honourable mention must go to the referee. His incessant whistling every time two players competed for a ball managed to ruin an otherwise tedious game.
Of more worry is our impotence in front of goal presently. Mind you, this shouldn't be too surprising given Cooper's lack of attacking flair. It's all well and good being ultra-tight at the back, but when you're sole method of attack for much of the game is to punt the ball up to a solo striker and somehow hope, against all odds, that he may conjure a goal, this situation will show no immediate improvement.
Towards the end of the game we had Seddon, Spencer and McPike all on the pitch, which, believe me, sounds a lot more attacking than it actually was. However, with Seddon down the right wing and Spencer wide on the left, they were never going to link up effectively. These players are centre forwards for heavens sake! Give them the ball in front of goal, and let's see what they can do.
The talk pre-season was of a more attractive style of play. Unfortunately this requires more than a few pretty triangles in the middle of the park. Our midfield of Boucard, the disappointing Noubissie and Fowler can pose with the ball all day without ever hurting the opposition.
What price a player like Solkhon in there now?
Monday, 31 August 2009
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Mike Bassett 1 - Mark Cooper 0
Towards the end of the film, "Mike Bassett - England Manager", the exasperated title character spells out his philosophy of football to a pack of cocky journalists thus, "I play four, four, f**king, two!"
I really hope Mark Cooper sits down to watch this film, and soon, because we are getting nowhere fast with the so-called 4,4,3 formation, which, more often than not reverts to a 4,5,1 formation. The hapless Spencer was left on his own so much today one could be forgiven for thinking he had suspected swine flu.
I think it's fair to say that Mark is of the safety first, second and possible even third persuasion. Today against an ineffectual Luton side we bossed the game for extended periods without threatening too much. Just image if we had played a second striker? Some of Spencer's flick-ons might have actually gone to a player wearing a red shirt!
What is it with our Managers? It is either all-out suicidal attack of Morrell or Gary Johnson, or the sometimes grisly stodge of a Cooper or a Morris.
Just for once I'd like our Manager not to be scared to let his players play to their strengths and, when we have the upper hand, attack the opposition, rather than wait in our half for them to come at us again.
A point against Luton isn't to be sniffed at. But, boy, they were there for the taking today!
I really hope Mark Cooper sits down to watch this film, and soon, because we are getting nowhere fast with the so-called 4,4,3 formation, which, more often than not reverts to a 4,5,1 formation. The hapless Spencer was left on his own so much today one could be forgiven for thinking he had suspected swine flu.
I think it's fair to say that Mark is of the safety first, second and possible even third persuasion. Today against an ineffectual Luton side we bossed the game for extended periods without threatening too much. Just image if we had played a second striker? Some of Spencer's flick-ons might have actually gone to a player wearing a red shirt!
What is it with our Managers? It is either all-out suicidal attack of Morrell or Gary Johnson, or the sometimes grisly stodge of a Cooper or a Morris.
Just for once I'd like our Manager not to be scared to let his players play to their strengths and, when we have the upper hand, attack the opposition, rather than wait in our half for them to come at us again.
A point against Luton isn't to be sniffed at. But, boy, they were there for the taking today!
Just as well we're not playing Millwall!
Anyone who has popped into town today can only be left with two immediate thoughts.
1 This would be a good day to begin a career as a burglar, provided it was not in Kettering.
2 If the Club are stumping up for the policing costs today, we are going to need a gate of about 15,000 just to break even.
Newland Street at 10.30AM.
Meadow Road at 11.00AM.
1 This would be a good day to begin a career as a burglar, provided it was not in Kettering.
2 If the Club are stumping up for the policing costs today, we are going to need a gate of about 15,000 just to break even.
Newland Street at 10.30AM.
Meadow Road at 11.00AM.
Children's open day at the Market Place.
Cowper Street at 12.30
Friday, 28 August 2009
Issue 7
In a big bang of creativity probably unrivalled since the Italian Renaissance, the exponential growth of Patgod celebrated its seventh issue in its debut season with a whopping 16 page feast of fun and satire.
Not all of the contents could be described as timeless, in the same way that even Leo Sayer's early albums were not unblemished. But amid the muck was the odd pearl such as the continuation of Patgod's pictorial journey through the life of Ernie Moss across the ages, with the latest episode finding the ancient frontman aboard a pirate ship in the 17th century, and 'A Day In The Life Of Robbie Cooke'. The gag being that he spent all his time arguing. You had to be there.
Elsewhere there was a detailed account of a trip to Yeovil's old ground in which we were evidently frisked on entry and relieved of bottled drinks. Hey - so 2009! But after the euphoria of 88/89, this season felt a bit flat and 5th place nothing to celebrate. The functional Peter Morris style of play wasn't much of a consolation, and so the tone turned a bit critical in places. With hindsight, nothing worse than the average day's output on Poppynet, but skins were obviously thinner in 1990.
At the end of season players awards at the George, Morris stomped over and had a go and before the night was over the fanzine was officially banned. Proposed by Peter Morris and seconded by Robbie Cooke.
And so Patgod joined the ranks of underground publications. Not quite the kind of thing that was likely to get us shot or deported, but with a serious risk of attracting a scowl from PM if eye contact was made.
Not all of the contents could be described as timeless, in the same way that even Leo Sayer's early albums were not unblemished. But amid the muck was the odd pearl such as the continuation of Patgod's pictorial journey through the life of Ernie Moss across the ages, with the latest episode finding the ancient frontman aboard a pirate ship in the 17th century, and 'A Day In The Life Of Robbie Cooke'. The gag being that he spent all his time arguing. You had to be there.
Elsewhere there was a detailed account of a trip to Yeovil's old ground in which we were evidently frisked on entry and relieved of bottled drinks. Hey - so 2009! But after the euphoria of 88/89, this season felt a bit flat and 5th place nothing to celebrate. The functional Peter Morris style of play wasn't much of a consolation, and so the tone turned a bit critical in places. With hindsight, nothing worse than the average day's output on Poppynet, but skins were obviously thinner in 1990.
At the end of season players awards at the George, Morris stomped over and had a go and before the night was over the fanzine was officially banned. Proposed by Peter Morris and seconded by Robbie Cooke.
And so Patgod joined the ranks of underground publications. Not quite the kind of thing that was likely to get us shot or deported, but with a serious risk of attracting a scowl from PM if eye contact was made.
Thursday, 27 August 2009
We’re so PC it hurts!
“Isms” are a blight of our modern, enlightened society. Football has never been immune from outdated and un-pc views, but generally the situation is improving. Footballing “isms” that continue to persist include racism, sexism, heightism, hairism, weightism, ageism and er, jism.
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Racism has pretty much been banished from football grounds, to such an extent that these days black footballers are forced to buy their own bananas, as racist yobs rarely supply them.
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Sexism, alas, seems likely to remain part of terrace culture. Certainly as long as the football grounds are awash with fit birds anyway.
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Heightism still rears its ugly head, though obviously not too high. Most opposition teams are still blessed with a nasty short-arsed player, making up for a lack of inches with a chip on their shoulder, and a hair-trigger temper.
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Hairism is almost entirely absent these days. Gone are the days of mocking comb-overs at one end of the spectrum and pony-tails at the other. These days most players have sensible short haircuts, except for the odd twat with a couple of buckets of gel on their heads and their hair pointing in all different directions.
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Weightism continues unabated. A player seen to be a pound or two over their fighting weight can expect to be taunted mercilessly by our collection of tubbies and butterballs.
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Ageism, given my new-found advanced age, the age of players is no longer the burning issue for abuse it once was. Once you could chide experienced old pros, who had dropped into Non-league to eek out a few more pay days from their creaking legs. These days, players over 30 are classed as veterans, and if they are nudging middle thirties we all marvel that the poor old dear can tie the laces on their boots, let alone run around in them!
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Jism hasn’t been such a big problem, at least not since we equalised against Fulham last season.
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Happy in the Valley
A trip to Wrexham and an easier 3 points than the scoreline might suggest. We would surely have scored more goals if we hadn’t been so negative when our forwards outnumbered the defenders towards the end of the game and chose to head for the corners rather than shoot at their 4-foot tall replacement goalie. Hopefully one day our Gaffer will realise that we don’t have to fear teams like Wrexham and set our stall out so defensively. We are both in the same division. If they were THAT good they’d still be in the league!
I had also quite forgotten just how bitter and twisted the Taffs could be when things don’t go their way. Every Poppies challenge was greeted with boo’s and demands for the ref to take action. This was particularly in evidence when their goalie injured his elbow by landing heavily after climbing over JP and one of his own defenders. The baying pit ponies to our right screamed for the ref to dismiss JP, as if he had purposefully dislocated the guy’s elbow. The fact that none of the Wrexham players reacted negatively, spoke volumes as to the accidental nature of the collision between all three players. This wasn’t good enough for the purple-faced primates of the Principality. They wanted blood.
After the game, upon exiting the stadium, I was party to a particularly lovely moment when a young, pre-teen Wrexham lad walked past, turned and spat right in front of me. Quite charming. It was such a strange thing to see that it took me a few moments to register exactly what had happened.
Ah, the joys of playing against teams whose fans can’t get over the fact that they aren’t such big boys anymore!
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