No matter how much I try to manage my expectations during preseason, nothing prepares me for that feeling of defeat. Another defeat, coupled with victory for each of the promoted sides (who by definition must surely be worse than us) left me feeling lower than Johann Elmander’s socks.
As Manchester United were reminded at the weekend bogey teams are alive and well. Two wins in 17 games against the Trotters means that, far from just being our bogey team, Bolton have effectively spent the last ten years snotting all over us. The fact that we actually played very well for parts of the game only served to increase the frustration.
The omens for a bad day were all there as the tube left Canning Town with those of us still on board slowly deducing that the number of fellow supporters who had alighted must be the result of a closure on the district line. The ensuing trek from West Ham to Upton Park served to underline just how few fans actually know the area they call “east east east London”.
A man with some foresight and a map became our default leader and his followers quickly swelled. It was reminiscent of the scene in Forrest Gump where Forrest “just started running”. Given the tortuously humid conditions there was little chance of anyone breaking out into a run. Everyone was far too sweaty to feel any kind of camaraderie and as we finally made our way onto the more familiar surroundings of Barking Road, we went our separate ways.
It’s been ten years since I last sat in the Bobby Moore stand, but by way of a personal austerity measure I have made the decision to leave the comfort zone that is the West Stand. In fact, the only silver lining of the day was the relief at having a good view with not an idiot in sight (well, technically Kevin “I don’t know what his head was doing down there anyway” Davies was in sight, but those within earshot were all very well behaved).
It’s hard not to feel some kind of hatred towards a man who has scored nine times in 11 games against your team, but with Davies that’s just one reason among many. I cannot begin to understand the mindset of a man who kicks another human being in the face, breaks their nose and has the temerity to suggest that it was face to boot rather than boot to face. To me Davies will always be the embodiment of a thuggish Bolton team who view a succession of passes as a waste of effort. Under Owen Coyle it is becoming harder, but far from impossible, to level this accusation. Arsenal they are not.
My antipathy (almost a week after the game) is doubtless a symptom of my own team’s total lack of brawn. I cheered Mark Noble’s late yellow card almost as vigorously as those around me cheered Carlton Cole’s substitution. Noble’s slide tackle on Jussi Jaaskelainen after scoring the penalty has to be one of my all time favourite player-scrapping-with-keeper-in-the-back-of-the-net moments.
Pablo Barrera looks a potential snip at £4m but even he was not the same after taking a whack from Paul Robinson. It may be simplistic to say that we are too nice but unless we toughen up Saturday’s defeat will be replicated home and away against Blackburn, Stoke et al. As Zola learnt last year, picking up the odd point against Arsenal and Chelsea is scant consolation.
To my amazement, I discovered that not only is the hole in the wall on the corner of the Bobby Moore and East Stand still there but it still serves exactly the same burgers with exactly the same names. For the first time in fifteen years I treated myself to a Mad Dog. Oh for a Martin Allen now.
No comments:
Post a Comment