Christy
Offline
Posts: 389
|
|
« Reply #117 on: Saturday, February 25, 2017, 23:04:47 » |
|
I haven't read any posts or heard any feedback, so sorry if all this has been covered already... ---------------------- Funnily enough, the point at which I accepted relegation as pretty much inevitable, was the point at which we'd been our most creative of the entire season. At half time against Oldham, we'd had 16 shots, half a dozen of them extremely presentable opportunities, and scored none. This wasn't just bad luck, or "one of those days" - for me it was symptomatic of our rancid 'developmental' approach to professional football: winning just doesn't matter enough. Hey, we'll have more chances and score one eventually, and if not *shrugs shoulders* we go again.
So here we are, dilly dallying about whether to go or not all week, but unable to resist one of our more local trips to visit a club so hopeless, that they never ever beat us. And whilst the afternoon doesn't have the big day out feel of our recent visits to the Ricoh, or even the heady Premier League trip to Highfield Road, there are plenty enough of us here, bringing a confused sense of desperation, pathos and well, whatever, we're here. I'm slightly confuddled by the Power Outers starting at 0-0 - we're not even losing yet and they demand we get our £350m per week back (stay with me)...meanwhile 20,000 sky blue seats silently scream be careful what you wish for. To be fair, they were both consistent and innovative, continuing when we were ahead and with a medley of new numbers too. There was nothing quite as catchy as 'We want Power out' though, and I found myself wondering if some people joined in just because, and whether they'd similarly start imploring the banning of 4G or something, if only a few others started up first. Or maybe I'm totally unfair, and everyone knows exactly what their chanting for, just as I mustn't patronise those Brexit types either.
Somewhere out there, a football game was going on - and any comments about the quality must also be tempered by acknowledging the absolutely dreadful pitch. It was clearly a hindrance to our preferred style of keeping the ball in our own half for seventeen hours at a time, so we were forced to occasionally go a bit longer, and even make the league's worst team defend and for us to pick up second balls. And knock me down with a feather, but this more mixed approach had us look pretty damn threatening at times. I do recognise that our opponents were comfortably in the atrocious category, but there was a creeping sense of optimism and blimey, even expectation allied with encouragement around me. Obika was so puzzling - playing once more in a more withdrawn role, which Coventry had no idea how to manage - at one point he won six headers on the trot, simultaneously with giving it away five consecutive times on the deck. However, it was only right that we went ahead, although from high up behind the goal Ajose looked miles offside, or maybe that was just my instinct, expecting hope and celebration to be cruelly curtailed. But no, as we pondered that, and loudly asked how poor that Coventry might be, seeing as they were losing to us, we only went and did it again. My two twins of lethargic one-paced doom, Gladwin and Colkett, delivered quality balls into the box, and our hitherto forlorn strike twins had, er, delivered.
Half time came and went in a fuzzy haze as we perused the record books and internet search engines in vain to check when we were last two goals to the good at the break. If ever there was a time, that even Swindon couldn't cock this up, it was now. Whilst we didn't, the second half was a cacophonous disappointment, a reality check so vivid, that my mind wandered to the Division 4 relegation scrap, and the likelihood of both Cheltenham and Newport providing local excitement next season. Here's why, and it's a mindset thing again, and an absolutely damning indictment of our predicament. Any half decent team would have grabbed our terrible hosts round the neck and not given them a sniff. We, on the other hand, sat deep, stopped winning loose balls, overplayed, relaxed - and relied on Coventry's simple hopelessness to ensure that any number of balls into the box would go unpunished. It's a mentality that can't be switched on or off, and which most other opponents in this facile division would have (and indeed over the last seven despairing months have) exploited. Nothing exemplified that more than BOOs pathetic effort to stop their injury time consolation. My hero Nathan was so furious I thought for a second that he'd deck him, and for another second, I thought, could they really score three in injury time?
Still, looking for optimism, it was in the post match huddle, including all players and coaches. To be clear, I like this sort of stuff, and it was a genuine display of togetherness, desire and delight. There was a hearty roar of approval from the 850, and for a moment at least, a feeling that all things may be possible...Gillingham...Chesterfield...Port Vale...This, in a barely vintage season (so far), was my favourite moment (so far). I will keep trying to believe, and keep supporting.
Sorry to bring politics back into it, but this week I read a great piece suggesting that despite Brexit, Trump and the rise of nationalism, the direction of travel is incessantly, indubitably towards globalisation, moderation and a digital world bringing us closer together. It was an optimistic read, giving hope that once, say, the French and Germans have elected sensible, progressive leaders, then we might look back on the horrors of 2016 as the death rattle of insular 'old world' views as globalisation, technology and positivity prevail.
Anyway, that's a rather long winded analogy to reflect that although we won today, I still think we'll go down, that the direction of travel is set.
|