Calvin Plummer
Vital Football Legend
Football’s a bit shit at the moment isn’t it.
Jose Mourinho’s back, Liverpool fans are crawling out of the woodwork, 20,000 extra Leeds United fans have snuck back into Elland Road and are pretending they were there all along while their team score one last minute winner after another. Mediocre players who used to cost £5m now go for £40m, academy players who’ve never played a first team game and you’ve never heard of now pull £50,000 a week, run-of-the-mill gobshite forwards with ten goals in their last 86 appearances rampage around the most expensive hotel on Miami Beach shouting “BEANS BEANS BEANS” down the lens of the phone to an Instagram following of millions. Bury, nearly Bolton, and soon Macclesfield, cease to exist altogether.
We have a new toy, VAR, which takes an interminable amount of time to reach decisions every bit as incorrect and infuriating as the ones the referees used to make in a split second. After 27 looks over nearly four minutes at Dele Alli punching a recent Everton corner clear with his arm well above his head, no penalty was awarded. Every goal is assessed, for offside, or handball, or a sin committed by the scorer in a previous life. If it transpires that somebody involved in the move a couple of minutes prior to the goal had the tip of their boot beyond the last defender – as long as you zoom in on a heavily pixelated image with an inadequate frame rate from a camera not exactly in line with the incident - then the goal is ruled out. Having spent all season insisting that Raheem Sterling, Roberto Firminio, Raheem Sterling again are offside at the arm pit, we then succeed in killing the joy of a last minute Sheff Utd equaliser against Man Utd by spending a couple of minute debating whether the top of Tartan McPartick’s shoulder counts as handball. Can’t have it both ways you unfeeling, emotionless droids. If you’re offside at the arm pit then you can score with it. Congratulations on digging that hole for yourself lads. Pricks.
At QPR, a terrific start to the season above all expectations is threatening to give way to one of those long winless runs we so enjoy. Three separate occasions Ian Holloway lost six in a row, and Steve McClaren went from the edge of the play-offs to the sack with one win in 17. Already there are murmurings about Mark Warburton’s inability to stop the defence conceding two goals every time it takes to the field – nine games in a row now, the worst run since the 1950s, and five games without a win. The Twitterati say Warburton should be sacked immediately, and Gareth Ainsworth appointed instead. Yup, we’re there already.
We go 1-0 up at Fulham, hit the post to go 2-0 up, go through on the goalkeeper and kick the ball straight at him for 3-1, and end up losing 2-1 to goals that we gave them. One of our group misjudges that one step in the away end that’s randomly twice as deep as all the other and snaps his ankle. Afterwards the stewards try and funnel 2,000 QPR fans down one staircase causing a crush, while another set of steps sits unused behind a line of officious, jobsworth yellow coats unable to think for themselves. When the frustration of the night gets the better of me and I lose the plot with one of them, I subsequently spend three days afterwards beating myself up for having a go at some poor bastard on minimum wage just doing as he was told by his orange coat overlord.
Played seven-a-side on Monday, had 25 shots on goal to their two, lost 1-0. And the goal was my fault.
Bloody sport.
But, do you know what, I’ve got Wednesday afternoon off. Now I’ve bitched and moaned on here often enough about the weight of midweek fixtures in this Godforsaken league – particularly during Shaun Harvey’s reign of terror when he came to the conclusion, all by himself, that football supporters want their local games on a Saturday and all their trips to Blackburn on a Tuesday night, requiring two days off work, peaktime train fares and a stay in some dire provincial Travelodge where the stains from a recent prostitute bludgeoning resolutely refuse to come out of the carpet.
There is, however, something about a midweek football match. The lovely moment when you wake up and realise that, although it’s Wednesday, it’s not a working Wednesday, it’s a Wednesday for pubs and football and pubs. The tube ride in in your jeans, surrounded by people in suits. The leisurely walk through the city streets, surrounded by offices packed with people behind steamed up windows performing menial tasks on shiny Apple Macs in stuffy rooms for no real positive gain whatsoever. All with the knowledge that you’re going to the Crown and Sceptre, and Loftus Road, not to a Powow Now conference call with six people you don’t give a shit about or want to talk to.
You’re like a kid playing hooky from school, there’s a naughty feeling to it that I haven’t experienced since my dad used to tell my teacher I had a dental appointment and whisk me away in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon to go with him and his mates on the train to Aston Villa away in the League Cup (lost 1-0, Andy Townsend scored, not for me Clive). There's the lights, and the way the pitch gleams, and steam and smoke rising from the kiosks into the dark sky, and people you're used to seeing on a Saturday suddenly ponsed up in work clothes. There's that Samuel Di Carmine goal, or that Dexter Blackstock goal, or that Jamie Mackie goal, or that Paul Furlong goal. There's the abandonment of plans to go straight home after in favour of an all out assault on last orders somewhere, brought on by a late equaliser.
And all we need to really put the tin hat on the whole thing is a QPR win. Just a little one, achieved with a dodgy own goal or something like that, to keep the wolf from the door and the mouth breathers off social media and the Neil Warnock jungle drum in the cupboard for another week or two at least.
Come on Rangers, throw us a bone.
Forest Team News:
Forest midfielder Ryan Yates is on the naughty step after his red card at the weekend at Bristol City. That could be a real problem if fellow midfield enforcer Samba Sow also doesn’t make it – Forest will give him as long as he needs to prove fitness. There’s a fairly sizeable injury list at The City Ground at the moment with Yuri Ribeiro (rickets), Alfa Semedo (gout), Carl Jenkinson (blinded by the light), Yohan Benalouane (scurvy) and Michael Hefele (gangrene) all missing tonight. Luckily a recent transfer policy that would make even Harry Redknapp blush a little bit has left them with a squad of 42 players (eight out on loan) including six senior goalkeepers so they should just about squeeze through.
Forest Form:
Only Bristol City (two) and West Brom (one) have lost fewer games than Nottingham Forest (three) this season. Their away form is even more impressive with just one defeat from nine games – four wins and four draws in the remaining eight. So far they’ve won on the road at Fulham (2-1), Stoke (3-2), Swansea (1-0) and Luton (2-1) with draws at Leeds, Charlton, Blackburn (all 1-1) and Bristol City last time out (0-0). Forest have scored 20 times this season which is the lowest total in the top half of the table, and lower than four teams in the bottom half including 21st-placed Luton Town. They’ve done that from 48 shots on target which, following Huddersfield’s (52) game last night, is now the lowest amount in the league. They’ve scored one goal or fewer in 12 of their 16 league games this season including six of the last seven but they’ve taken 17 points from those dozen games regardless.
Jose Mourinho’s back, Liverpool fans are crawling out of the woodwork, 20,000 extra Leeds United fans have snuck back into Elland Road and are pretending they were there all along while their team score one last minute winner after another. Mediocre players who used to cost £5m now go for £40m, academy players who’ve never played a first team game and you’ve never heard of now pull £50,000 a week, run-of-the-mill gobshite forwards with ten goals in their last 86 appearances rampage around the most expensive hotel on Miami Beach shouting “BEANS BEANS BEANS” down the lens of the phone to an Instagram following of millions. Bury, nearly Bolton, and soon Macclesfield, cease to exist altogether.
We have a new toy, VAR, which takes an interminable amount of time to reach decisions every bit as incorrect and infuriating as the ones the referees used to make in a split second. After 27 looks over nearly four minutes at Dele Alli punching a recent Everton corner clear with his arm well above his head, no penalty was awarded. Every goal is assessed, for offside, or handball, or a sin committed by the scorer in a previous life. If it transpires that somebody involved in the move a couple of minutes prior to the goal had the tip of their boot beyond the last defender – as long as you zoom in on a heavily pixelated image with an inadequate frame rate from a camera not exactly in line with the incident - then the goal is ruled out. Having spent all season insisting that Raheem Sterling, Roberto Firminio, Raheem Sterling again are offside at the arm pit, we then succeed in killing the joy of a last minute Sheff Utd equaliser against Man Utd by spending a couple of minute debating whether the top of Tartan McPartick’s shoulder counts as handball. Can’t have it both ways you unfeeling, emotionless droids. If you’re offside at the arm pit then you can score with it. Congratulations on digging that hole for yourself lads. Pricks.
At QPR, a terrific start to the season above all expectations is threatening to give way to one of those long winless runs we so enjoy. Three separate occasions Ian Holloway lost six in a row, and Steve McClaren went from the edge of the play-offs to the sack with one win in 17. Already there are murmurings about Mark Warburton’s inability to stop the defence conceding two goals every time it takes to the field – nine games in a row now, the worst run since the 1950s, and five games without a win. The Twitterati say Warburton should be sacked immediately, and Gareth Ainsworth appointed instead. Yup, we’re there already.
We go 1-0 up at Fulham, hit the post to go 2-0 up, go through on the goalkeeper and kick the ball straight at him for 3-1, and end up losing 2-1 to goals that we gave them. One of our group misjudges that one step in the away end that’s randomly twice as deep as all the other and snaps his ankle. Afterwards the stewards try and funnel 2,000 QPR fans down one staircase causing a crush, while another set of steps sits unused behind a line of officious, jobsworth yellow coats unable to think for themselves. When the frustration of the night gets the better of me and I lose the plot with one of them, I subsequently spend three days afterwards beating myself up for having a go at some poor bastard on minimum wage just doing as he was told by his orange coat overlord.
Played seven-a-side on Monday, had 25 shots on goal to their two, lost 1-0. And the goal was my fault.
Bloody sport.
But, do you know what, I’ve got Wednesday afternoon off. Now I’ve bitched and moaned on here often enough about the weight of midweek fixtures in this Godforsaken league – particularly during Shaun Harvey’s reign of terror when he came to the conclusion, all by himself, that football supporters want their local games on a Saturday and all their trips to Blackburn on a Tuesday night, requiring two days off work, peaktime train fares and a stay in some dire provincial Travelodge where the stains from a recent prostitute bludgeoning resolutely refuse to come out of the carpet.
There is, however, something about a midweek football match. The lovely moment when you wake up and realise that, although it’s Wednesday, it’s not a working Wednesday, it’s a Wednesday for pubs and football and pubs. The tube ride in in your jeans, surrounded by people in suits. The leisurely walk through the city streets, surrounded by offices packed with people behind steamed up windows performing menial tasks on shiny Apple Macs in stuffy rooms for no real positive gain whatsoever. All with the knowledge that you’re going to the Crown and Sceptre, and Loftus Road, not to a Powow Now conference call with six people you don’t give a shit about or want to talk to.
You’re like a kid playing hooky from school, there’s a naughty feeling to it that I haven’t experienced since my dad used to tell my teacher I had a dental appointment and whisk me away in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon to go with him and his mates on the train to Aston Villa away in the League Cup (lost 1-0, Andy Townsend scored, not for me Clive). There's the lights, and the way the pitch gleams, and steam and smoke rising from the kiosks into the dark sky, and people you're used to seeing on a Saturday suddenly ponsed up in work clothes. There's that Samuel Di Carmine goal, or that Dexter Blackstock goal, or that Jamie Mackie goal, or that Paul Furlong goal. There's the abandonment of plans to go straight home after in favour of an all out assault on last orders somewhere, brought on by a late equaliser.
And all we need to really put the tin hat on the whole thing is a QPR win. Just a little one, achieved with a dodgy own goal or something like that, to keep the wolf from the door and the mouth breathers off social media and the Neil Warnock jungle drum in the cupboard for another week or two at least.
Come on Rangers, throw us a bone.
Forest Team News:
Forest midfielder Ryan Yates is on the naughty step after his red card at the weekend at Bristol City. That could be a real problem if fellow midfield enforcer Samba Sow also doesn’t make it – Forest will give him as long as he needs to prove fitness. There’s a fairly sizeable injury list at The City Ground at the moment with Yuri Ribeiro (rickets), Alfa Semedo (gout), Carl Jenkinson (blinded by the light), Yohan Benalouane (scurvy) and Michael Hefele (gangrene) all missing tonight. Luckily a recent transfer policy that would make even Harry Redknapp blush a little bit has left them with a squad of 42 players (eight out on loan) including six senior goalkeepers so they should just about squeeze through.
Forest Form:
Only Bristol City (two) and West Brom (one) have lost fewer games than Nottingham Forest (three) this season. Their away form is even more impressive with just one defeat from nine games – four wins and four draws in the remaining eight. So far they’ve won on the road at Fulham (2-1), Stoke (3-2), Swansea (1-0) and Luton (2-1) with draws at Leeds, Charlton, Blackburn (all 1-1) and Bristol City last time out (0-0). Forest have scored 20 times this season which is the lowest total in the top half of the table, and lower than four teams in the bottom half including 21st-placed Luton Town. They’ve done that from 48 shots on target which, following Huddersfield’s (52) game last night, is now the lowest amount in the league. They’ve scored one goal or fewer in 12 of their 16 league games this season including six of the last seven but they’ve taken 17 points from those dozen games regardless.