One Game at a Time: You’re Only Here for the Pasties
The Runners Up (A) October 28th
Now that’s what I call a debut.
After a battling point at the Hawthorns, the football fans banana skin of banana skins hoved into port at Home Park, as the rebranded HMS PTL, also known as Sheffield Wednesday, dropped anchor off Drakes Island as HMS Miracle to begin their German inspired assault on the long climb to safety.
Argyle, seeking to avoid a third consecutive home league defeat, rang the changes again with leading scorer Hardie rested and replaced by Mustapha Bundu, presumably in anticipation of the upcoming trip to Portman Road a few days later. Joe 90 was also back for Miller, presumably having his hamstrings rewound.
Wednesday, under the command of their newly appointed German wunderkind Danny Rohl, arrived with three points from thirty-six, not having scored for five games and a dismal record in recent seasons at HP. Short of a bizarre manager of the Month award for Schuey the portents for the pessimists that predominate in football fans circles couldn’t have been much worse.
And for the first forty minutes or so neither could Argyle. From a rusty looking Cooper in goal, to a defence and midfield that struggled with the high press from Wednesday, things were, if Germany had rhyming slang, in Rohls language, a bit Horst Hrubesh.
Despite not really threatening the goal, Wednesday looked sharper and more likely. In keeping with what went before him, even when the Moose got loose, he contrived to miss, when it looked easier to score.
As half time approached, restless natives were muttering, when Whittaker was set free and clumsily brought down on the edge of the box. The crowd thought red, the ref gave yellow and a squirt of foam on the edge of the D.
As the wall was marched back, there was a quick wipe of the foam and the ball moved back a couple of yards. Whittaker feigned interest but it was Bundu who lashed the ball goalwards. Accounts differ as to the trajectory. Some reports said it flicked off a Wednesday defenders head, but as that head was Bannon, Barry Bannon’s, the account of knee high and rising to hit the underside of the bar before cannoning into the back of the net, could still be true also.
As debut goals go it was up there with Barry Silkman’s thirty yarder and Dwight Marshall’s hooked volley in the friendly against Villa.
If a half time lead was harsh on Wednesday, a two-goal cushion was positively cruel. Fortunately, however, Rohl has continued with the defensive unit that arrived at HP with a minus fourteen goal difference, and three minutes into the added time that came from their keeper pretending to be injured whilst one of his, let’s call them defenders for ease of reference, was getting stitched up, Morgan pounced on an errant and lazy pass from Pol.
I say pass. A pass is generally considered to be a movement of the ball aimed at a player of your own team. Or for him to run onto. This was a random stab of the ball in the general vicinity of the defender who then lifted his foot to make sure Morgs could run on unimpeded and fire the ball home, to the roars of the crowd, and the sound of two managers ripping up their half time speeches, one more happily than the other.
The second half was notable mainly for the arrival of Hardie and Cundle, the latter combining with Azaz to rob Byers and then Finn set up our top scorer to score the third. Good timing for another scoring streak for Hotdog.
As conditions deteriorated, is there nothing we won’t do to make our visitors feel at home, it was clear that Wednesday were finished for the night, a third three zip in four from their trips to Home Park, and ironically yet another Wednesday night where they got nothing from the game.
If disposing comfortably of such a recent promotion rival, despite not playing well, is a measure of how far Argyle have improved (or perhaps how far Wednesday have fallen) Saturday allows us to look at the opposite end of the scale, as last season’s League One Champions travel to last season’s League One Runners up for the Halloween weekend fixture.
It is fair to say of the three promoted teams, Town have adapted most comfortably to the next level. Their current form over the last thirty games surpasses all the other teams in Europe (admittedly playing against Cardiff and Wednesday, rather than Arsenal and Liverpool, contributes somewhat to that comparison), but Town are in second with a gap already developing down to the play off chasers which, based on the points gap, is where Argyle find themselves compared to the gap to relegation.
They trail Leicester, who, Hull City blip aside, have hit their straps and seem to be making a fair fist of returning to the Premier League they won so recently. Indeed, a trip to the Foxes fan site sees speculation that Town are doing well for a club their size but will probably struggle once injuries bite later in the season. All I can say to any stray Leicester fans reading this is that Ipswich have first-hand experience of how that can pan out. And they do know how to hang on to a second place.
Town’s immediate pursuers are Leeds United, although whilst Ipswich were grinding out a win at Ashton Gate, Leeds were proving that actually, they can’t do it on a wet Wednesday in Stoke. And that isn’t a Halloween full moon, but Patrick Bamford’s penalty re-entering the earth’s atmosphere.
Argyles preparation for the game, Hardies rest and a return to winning form aside, has no doubt been interrupted by the fact that I doubt Norwich are quite so happy to assist in our pre match build up after the drubbing we handed out to them as they were last season. Mind you, the reaction from Ipswich fans to that result was so happy that perhaps they might.
What is apparent is that away from home, Town have been grinding out the wins, with four one nil victories at QPR, Skythampton, The Wurzels and Wendies, plus one-all draw at Huddersfield and an opening fixture two one at Sunderland.
At home, however, they go from roundheads to cavaliers and although they have had comfortable wins to nothing against Hull and Stoke, their other scores have included a four-three either way (Leeds and Blackburn), a four-two (Preston) and two three twos, (Cardiff and Wolves in the EFL cup).
Argyle’s away form, whilst lacking a win has, Brizzle City aside, and we know we won’ t be seeing that eleven for a while unless we have a real injury crisis, been at worst competitive, and for the greener tints amongst us, unlucky not to have at least one and potentially two or three wins amongst them.
Of course, as we approach Walpurgisnacht we do have to recognise that Portman Road would comfortably qualify as a bogey ground and, whilst we possess our own strain of Tractor Boy garlic in Bali Mumba, ex Norwich, two games two goals two deflections, we have a fair way to go in levelling up the bias of the football gods.
If we just take relatively recent trips into account we have a three two defeat from two nil up (and a Friio open goal miss for three-nil that I would expect he still has nightmares about), Matt Doumbe’s fastest ever Argyle red card for a tackle that might not even have been a foul in the first minute, and a nil-nil played in the knowledge that Town had signed our best player at the time, Chuck Norris, the day before, much to the delight of the steward that checked my ticket. Against this, the best we can do is an unlikely victory under Paul Mariner that whilst annoying Roy Keane, couldn’t keep us up, and that Mumba moment to snatch a draw after Hardie had missed the openest of open goals before Town took the lead.
If Portman Road is a bogey ground for Argyle, then no prizes for guessing who gets the Ghostface mask as bogeyman. Sam Morsy, impressively twenty percent of the way towards his second suspension of the season, after a booking at Ashton Gate made it six for the season (and most definitely counting) will undoubtedly fill that role for the Green Army. In the recent debate about Argyle needing to be a bit more street wise and niggly, it was Morsy’s name that came up more than most as the role model for the enforcer style of midfielder that some feel we lack.
One player missing through injury is likely to be Nightmare Freddie Ladapo, so the immutable law of the ex looks to have been avoided for this match. Still as we have already seen, Town have plenty of goal threat at Portman Road, and none more so than their left wingback Leif Davies whose ability to make a turnover into a chance is probably the best in the Division, as it was last season. Add to that Chaplin’s ability to ghost in and the long range prowess of Nathan Broadhead and George Hirst’s leading of the line and we will need to be on it defensively, whichever formation Schuey chooses.
Our own threats, especially with pace on the counter mean we are far from being without a prayer. And despite the fact the Witches of East Anglia have dominated at their own ground, as a so-called curse, it is far from the worst one in football.
Obviously, we have already covered the St Andrews gypsy curse which has plagued Birmingham until recent seasons in the Birmingham OGAAT. That said after the reign of Wayne is already heading down the drain, they might be doing a profitable line in voodoo dolls and pins at the club shop soon for the Brady Bunch. Right next to the Jamie Vardy ones.
Neither am I suggesting that an advance party of Argyle fans head east to repeat the “Curse of the Cats” which plagued Racing Club of Argentine. After their third play-off triumph over Celtic in 1967, Racing were at their pinnacle, have won both the Copa Libertadores and the World Club Championship. Fans of rival Independiente broke into their ground and buried the corpses of seven cats at various locations around the ground. This apparent curse, despite seeming absurd, seemed to work as Racing entered a period of trophy slump unprecedented in their history. In 1988 the club was bankrupt, and eventually, as the rumours of the “Curse of the Cats” grew, around a hundred thousand Racing fans descended on the ground to search for the problematic feline cadavers. Six were found, but the elusive seventh remained, and the trophyless years continued.
In 2001 a new manager, Reinaldo Merlo, was appointed, and he demanded the pitch be dug up. Lo and behold the seventh cat was found (luckily for Peter Bonetti this story didn’t really make the headlines in the seventies or he might well have been buried for luck by England fans in the Azteca in 1970) and that year, after a gap of thirty five years, Racing were Champions of Argentine again.
Thirty-five years sounds like a lot, but as any Benfica fan will tell you, it is a mere steppingstone towards the “Curse of Bela Guttmann” that has afflicted their club in Europe since 1962. Having managed the Eagles to a European cup victory against Real Madrid, Guttmann went all Darren Moore and asked for a pay rise. The Benfica board went all Delphon Chanseri and showed him the door, at which point Guttman uttered his fateful final words as a boss at Benfica that, “Not in a hundred years from now will Benfica ever be European champions again.”
And so it has proved. Defeat to Inter Milan (twice) and Manchester United at Wembley in 1968 were just the beginning. In 1990 the great Eusebio went to Guttmann’s grave and prayed for the lifting of the curse, but it seems by results to no avail. It may be that Guttmann has effectively punished his former club until 2060 at least. Worth remembering if they reach another European final, and you can lump on and pay off the mortgage. On the plus side, no Lisbon cats were hurt in the making of this particular curse.
So, by comparison Argyle have little to fear at Portman Road. After all we have a more recent history of winning a trophy than our opponents, and if nothing else it might be a chance for a belated guard of honour.
Only kidding chaps, the points will be fine.
COY Champion Greens!!!!!!!
The Runners Up (A) October 28th
Now that’s what I call a debut.
After a battling point at the Hawthorns, the football fans banana skin of banana skins hoved into port at Home Park, as the rebranded HMS PTL, also known as Sheffield Wednesday, dropped anchor off Drakes Island as HMS Miracle to begin their German inspired assault on the long climb to safety.
Argyle, seeking to avoid a third consecutive home league defeat, rang the changes again with leading scorer Hardie rested and replaced by Mustapha Bundu, presumably in anticipation of the upcoming trip to Portman Road a few days later. Joe 90 was also back for Miller, presumably having his hamstrings rewound.
Wednesday, under the command of their newly appointed German wunderkind Danny Rohl, arrived with three points from thirty-six, not having scored for five games and a dismal record in recent seasons at HP. Short of a bizarre manager of the Month award for Schuey the portents for the pessimists that predominate in football fans circles couldn’t have been much worse.
And for the first forty minutes or so neither could Argyle. From a rusty looking Cooper in goal, to a defence and midfield that struggled with the high press from Wednesday, things were, if Germany had rhyming slang, in Rohls language, a bit Horst Hrubesh.
Despite not really threatening the goal, Wednesday looked sharper and more likely. In keeping with what went before him, even when the Moose got loose, he contrived to miss, when it looked easier to score.
As half time approached, restless natives were muttering, when Whittaker was set free and clumsily brought down on the edge of the box. The crowd thought red, the ref gave yellow and a squirt of foam on the edge of the D.
As the wall was marched back, there was a quick wipe of the foam and the ball moved back a couple of yards. Whittaker feigned interest but it was Bundu who lashed the ball goalwards. Accounts differ as to the trajectory. Some reports said it flicked off a Wednesday defenders head, but as that head was Bannon, Barry Bannon’s, the account of knee high and rising to hit the underside of the bar before cannoning into the back of the net, could still be true also.
As debut goals go it was up there with Barry Silkman’s thirty yarder and Dwight Marshall’s hooked volley in the friendly against Villa.
If a half time lead was harsh on Wednesday, a two-goal cushion was positively cruel. Fortunately, however, Rohl has continued with the defensive unit that arrived at HP with a minus fourteen goal difference, and three minutes into the added time that came from their keeper pretending to be injured whilst one of his, let’s call them defenders for ease of reference, was getting stitched up, Morgan pounced on an errant and lazy pass from Pol.
I say pass. A pass is generally considered to be a movement of the ball aimed at a player of your own team. Or for him to run onto. This was a random stab of the ball in the general vicinity of the defender who then lifted his foot to make sure Morgs could run on unimpeded and fire the ball home, to the roars of the crowd, and the sound of two managers ripping up their half time speeches, one more happily than the other.
The second half was notable mainly for the arrival of Hardie and Cundle, the latter combining with Azaz to rob Byers and then Finn set up our top scorer to score the third. Good timing for another scoring streak for Hotdog.
As conditions deteriorated, is there nothing we won’t do to make our visitors feel at home, it was clear that Wednesday were finished for the night, a third three zip in four from their trips to Home Park, and ironically yet another Wednesday night where they got nothing from the game.
If disposing comfortably of such a recent promotion rival, despite not playing well, is a measure of how far Argyle have improved (or perhaps how far Wednesday have fallen) Saturday allows us to look at the opposite end of the scale, as last season’s League One Champions travel to last season’s League One Runners up for the Halloween weekend fixture.
It is fair to say of the three promoted teams, Town have adapted most comfortably to the next level. Their current form over the last thirty games surpasses all the other teams in Europe (admittedly playing against Cardiff and Wednesday, rather than Arsenal and Liverpool, contributes somewhat to that comparison), but Town are in second with a gap already developing down to the play off chasers which, based on the points gap, is where Argyle find themselves compared to the gap to relegation.
They trail Leicester, who, Hull City blip aside, have hit their straps and seem to be making a fair fist of returning to the Premier League they won so recently. Indeed, a trip to the Foxes fan site sees speculation that Town are doing well for a club their size but will probably struggle once injuries bite later in the season. All I can say to any stray Leicester fans reading this is that Ipswich have first-hand experience of how that can pan out. And they do know how to hang on to a second place.
Town’s immediate pursuers are Leeds United, although whilst Ipswich were grinding out a win at Ashton Gate, Leeds were proving that actually, they can’t do it on a wet Wednesday in Stoke. And that isn’t a Halloween full moon, but Patrick Bamford’s penalty re-entering the earth’s atmosphere.
Argyles preparation for the game, Hardies rest and a return to winning form aside, has no doubt been interrupted by the fact that I doubt Norwich are quite so happy to assist in our pre match build up after the drubbing we handed out to them as they were last season. Mind you, the reaction from Ipswich fans to that result was so happy that perhaps they might.
What is apparent is that away from home, Town have been grinding out the wins, with four one nil victories at QPR, Skythampton, The Wurzels and Wendies, plus one-all draw at Huddersfield and an opening fixture two one at Sunderland.
At home, however, they go from roundheads to cavaliers and although they have had comfortable wins to nothing against Hull and Stoke, their other scores have included a four-three either way (Leeds and Blackburn), a four-two (Preston) and two three twos, (Cardiff and Wolves in the EFL cup).
Argyle’s away form, whilst lacking a win has, Brizzle City aside, and we know we won’ t be seeing that eleven for a while unless we have a real injury crisis, been at worst competitive, and for the greener tints amongst us, unlucky not to have at least one and potentially two or three wins amongst them.
Of course, as we approach Walpurgisnacht we do have to recognise that Portman Road would comfortably qualify as a bogey ground and, whilst we possess our own strain of Tractor Boy garlic in Bali Mumba, ex Norwich, two games two goals two deflections, we have a fair way to go in levelling up the bias of the football gods.
If we just take relatively recent trips into account we have a three two defeat from two nil up (and a Friio open goal miss for three-nil that I would expect he still has nightmares about), Matt Doumbe’s fastest ever Argyle red card for a tackle that might not even have been a foul in the first minute, and a nil-nil played in the knowledge that Town had signed our best player at the time, Chuck Norris, the day before, much to the delight of the steward that checked my ticket. Against this, the best we can do is an unlikely victory under Paul Mariner that whilst annoying Roy Keane, couldn’t keep us up, and that Mumba moment to snatch a draw after Hardie had missed the openest of open goals before Town took the lead.
If Portman Road is a bogey ground for Argyle, then no prizes for guessing who gets the Ghostface mask as bogeyman. Sam Morsy, impressively twenty percent of the way towards his second suspension of the season, after a booking at Ashton Gate made it six for the season (and most definitely counting) will undoubtedly fill that role for the Green Army. In the recent debate about Argyle needing to be a bit more street wise and niggly, it was Morsy’s name that came up more than most as the role model for the enforcer style of midfielder that some feel we lack.
One player missing through injury is likely to be Nightmare Freddie Ladapo, so the immutable law of the ex looks to have been avoided for this match. Still as we have already seen, Town have plenty of goal threat at Portman Road, and none more so than their left wingback Leif Davies whose ability to make a turnover into a chance is probably the best in the Division, as it was last season. Add to that Chaplin’s ability to ghost in and the long range prowess of Nathan Broadhead and George Hirst’s leading of the line and we will need to be on it defensively, whichever formation Schuey chooses.
Our own threats, especially with pace on the counter mean we are far from being without a prayer. And despite the fact the Witches of East Anglia have dominated at their own ground, as a so-called curse, it is far from the worst one in football.
Obviously, we have already covered the St Andrews gypsy curse which has plagued Birmingham until recent seasons in the Birmingham OGAAT. That said after the reign of Wayne is already heading down the drain, they might be doing a profitable line in voodoo dolls and pins at the club shop soon for the Brady Bunch. Right next to the Jamie Vardy ones.
Neither am I suggesting that an advance party of Argyle fans head east to repeat the “Curse of the Cats” which plagued Racing Club of Argentine. After their third play-off triumph over Celtic in 1967, Racing were at their pinnacle, have won both the Copa Libertadores and the World Club Championship. Fans of rival Independiente broke into their ground and buried the corpses of seven cats at various locations around the ground. This apparent curse, despite seeming absurd, seemed to work as Racing entered a period of trophy slump unprecedented in their history. In 1988 the club was bankrupt, and eventually, as the rumours of the “Curse of the Cats” grew, around a hundred thousand Racing fans descended on the ground to search for the problematic feline cadavers. Six were found, but the elusive seventh remained, and the trophyless years continued.
In 2001 a new manager, Reinaldo Merlo, was appointed, and he demanded the pitch be dug up. Lo and behold the seventh cat was found (luckily for Peter Bonetti this story didn’t really make the headlines in the seventies or he might well have been buried for luck by England fans in the Azteca in 1970) and that year, after a gap of thirty five years, Racing were Champions of Argentine again.
Thirty-five years sounds like a lot, but as any Benfica fan will tell you, it is a mere steppingstone towards the “Curse of Bela Guttmann” that has afflicted their club in Europe since 1962. Having managed the Eagles to a European cup victory against Real Madrid, Guttmann went all Darren Moore and asked for a pay rise. The Benfica board went all Delphon Chanseri and showed him the door, at which point Guttman uttered his fateful final words as a boss at Benfica that, “Not in a hundred years from now will Benfica ever be European champions again.”
And so it has proved. Defeat to Inter Milan (twice) and Manchester United at Wembley in 1968 were just the beginning. In 1990 the great Eusebio went to Guttmann’s grave and prayed for the lifting of the curse, but it seems by results to no avail. It may be that Guttmann has effectively punished his former club until 2060 at least. Worth remembering if they reach another European final, and you can lump on and pay off the mortgage. On the plus side, no Lisbon cats were hurt in the making of this particular curse.
So, by comparison Argyle have little to fear at Portman Road. After all we have a more recent history of winning a trophy than our opponents, and if nothing else it might be a chance for a belated guard of honour.
Only kidding chaps, the points will be fine.
COY Champion Greens!!!!!!!
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