Coventry Telegraph - Bloggy Oggy Oggy

This Ain't Champ Man!

2009-01-31T20:18:50Z

I'm not a fan of Neil Warnock, however I heard him interviewed not long after he'd guided Sheffield United to the premier league a couple of seasons ago. Clearly relaxed and in a jocular mood the guy was articulate, eloquent and frankly quite likeable, I found myself warming to him. He spoke sensibly and intelligently with regard to football at championship level. The interviewer then asked him what his secret was in getting the blades promotion. Warnock turned to him and said that when he came in as manager he reviewed the playing staff and sat down with the chairman and told him the players that he wanted to bring in and their values. The chairman said they could do it but it would have to be done over years rather than in one or two seasons.

He finished by stating it took him five years to get the team he wanted at Bramall Lane and another two years to get them playing the way he wanted. In that time the fans gave him stick at certain periods and the chairman got grief also, but they stuck to the plan and were rewarded.

On Friday night the forums were buzzing with fans delighted that new players had been brought in. The chairman was sliced bread; the chairman was the mutt's nuts. Surely it was just a matter of turning up at Pride Park, taking the three points off Derby thank-you very much and popping back down the M1. Job Done. By quarter past three on Saturday, with the team 2-0 down and doing a more than passable impression of the siege at the Alamo the same people were calling for manager's head and the chairman should go with him. What is it with these fans? Do you think you just chuck players in and there you go? This isn't a computer game? What do you think this is Championship Manager?

Ranson and Coleman state that we are looking to improve in every transfer window. True to their word the manager and chairman have brought in Bell and McPake as well as two loan players, young players with promise, all of whom fit the mould of the type of player business plan states we are looking for and on which they - indeed we all hope - a successful team can be built. As I type bids are on the table for others and we await developments and that's the other thing I like about the current regime. Our business appears to be being done in the right way. First of all deals are being done out of the media spotlight, the bell deal being a case in point. Secondly we are not being held over a barrel by clubs. Look at the arrival of McPake as an example of that. Okay this policy can backfire on you; the loss of Gdmunsson is an example of that. But that's what I like about the regime they don't suffer fools.

Talking of suffering fools. I heard Clive Eakin give a caller short shrift the other week after the Torquay game and it was like manner from heaven. More power to your elbow Clive. Your bosses may not have been too happy but let me tell you that I and I suspect many other fans cheered when they heard it. I wish you would do it more often because a) It's hugely entertaining and b) it gets rid off the knee-jerk reactionaries whom if they had there way would be getting through managers than Jesus Gil.

Every Little Helps, but Size Matters

2009-01-29T11:28:33Z

There we were again, mingling with the other glum faced Sky Blue fans milling around Tescos after ten o clock on a wet Wednesday in late January waiting for the orange puffer-jacketed checkout police manning the car park exit to call it a night. I suppose "every little helps" .....For the retail giant that is Tesco. After all they clearly need the money... and the car park spaces. I see their petrol prices are creeping up again despite the price of a barrel of crude falling. I notice that their food prices haven't come down at all since the fuel hike of last year. But I suppose like all of us they are feeling the economic strain, it's the shareholders I feel for the poor darlings having their dividends horribly squeezed. Just like Tesco have squeezed out the competition down the years flexing their High Street muscle to crush the little "corner shop" man. You see despite what you read and hear, size matters.

Talking of squeeze this is exactly what we had to do to get into the bar at the Cherry Tree where guarded optimism greeted any voicing of City's feint hopes over our pre match bevy. Most however - myself included - expected this to be a game too far and that lady luck, who has been conspicuous by her absence from the Ricoh and Highfield Road for that matter down the years, would once again be otherwise engaged this evening. We may get away with our current deficiencies, suspensions, injuries, small squad etc against other mid-table makeweights such as Sheffield Wednesday and Blackpool but Cardiff City who have the mercurial Jay Bothroyd within their ranks would surly prove to be a different proposition at the moment.

Bothroyd - who made conciliatory noises in the paper this week - is a true enigma. The type of player to draw exasperated Gordon Strachan style Huckerby-esque quotes from a manager, you know the one "world beater one minute, carpet beater the next." The former Arsenal youngster has undoubted talent to burn, it just depends on whether he can be bothered to ignite the pilot light. I remember watching him beat Stoke City almost single handed a few years back at the Britannia Stadium He scored two and got two players sent off in a virtuoso performance that haunts me every time our paths have crossed since.

My fears were rightly confirmed tonight when he turned the cumbersome Elliott Ward inside the first thirty seconds and sliced open the back four with a pass to McCormack who should have put the visitor's one up had his touch not deserted him. The pilot light was lit, Jay was in the mood. McCormack - indeed Cardiff - need not have worried about the miss they were to get ample opportunity to atone as the night wore on. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat; it was going to be a long night.

It was quite literally men against boys. Cardiff were physically imposing in all departments. Bothroyd - when he is up for it - can be a constant pain to the opposition quick feet, quick mind, decent pace, strength, good in the air, the lad has it all. Quite simply he was the biggest and the best striker on display, proving once again that size matters.

It was no surprise when he smacked home the rebound following yet another superb Westwood stop to give the away side the lead they thoroughly deserved. What did surprise me however was his goal celebration was essentially an incitement of the crowd, given that his Ricoh return had been met with mild hostility bordering on raging indifference by the faithful up to that point. The Sky Blues rallied briefly, Morrison and McKenzie almost converted a Fox corner and there was a muted shout for a penalty when Morrison was upended in the box. That however was the sum total of the attacking endeavour that the sky blues could muster. Cardiff could and indeed should have had the points in the bag way before the half-time whistle as the visitors underlined their recent form of late with - as we suspected - a strong first half showing.

For while we were scrambling to a undeserved win at non league Torquay United, Cardiff City were going nose to nose with Arsenal. A game many observers feel that the Welsh side won on points. The Bluebirds looked everything we weren't, essentially a side on the up. Quicker in mind and body, better in all departments, well drilled, sharper, and reeking in confidence, they were comfortable in possession, always looked a threat and strong, so much physically stronger than us. At one point I looked across our midfield and we had Mifsud, Sawyer and Mckenzie toiling away against men it appeared almost twice the size. I looked to the bench as the second half settled into the pattern of the first thinking well at least Doyle and Boozy could mount a physical challenge and assist Gunny only for the manager to throw on Kevin Thornton.

Did he not learn form the second Cardiff goal? Young debutant, Lee Sawyer - was muscled off the ball far too easily and McCormack was released to barrel down on the over exposed Westwood and end any lingering hopes that the Sky Blues could smuggle even a point form this embarrassingly one sided affair. Frankly Cardiff's keeper could have put his kit straight back in the kit bag ready for Saturday's game such was their dominance of proceedings.

I felt for the young debutant Sawyer. He showed touched and glimpses but as time went by his passing became wayward as confidence ebbed and tiredness (I presume and hope he hasn't played much of late) crept into his game. I thought it was a strange choice by Coleman to blood the youngster. I can only assume that although the more experienced and physically stronger Doyle and Boozy were named on the bench both must have been carrying knocks. Mind you I wonder how many players in Sky Blue shirts are struggling with fitness. McKenzie, Ward, Gunnarson and Eastwood all looked to be labouring to me.

All of which brings me to Mifsud. Mifsud, I'm afraid, has been found out. Time and time again he shows an inherent inability to beat his man. He squares up his opponent, drops his shoulder, then the defender drops him and that pattern for the game is set, pretty much as it has been for him - more or less - for the last twelve months. He passes when he should shoot and shoots when he should pass, even his most potent weapon - his pace - doesn't seem to carry the threat it once did. Case in point; during the second half the ball broke to him from a Cardiff corner and he put his head down and motored up the wing as hopes rose briefly. Sadly with his head still down and Cardiff back pedalling the Maltese international ran the ball smack into the concrete edifice that is the Telegraph Stand. While Morrison and Eastwood - equally perplexed as the rest of us - stood waiting in the penalty box. You got the feeling that if the Telegraph Stand hadn't been there Mifsud would still be motoring up the M6 even now, hopefully taking the M1 turn to Barnsley if the rumours circulating last night were to be believed. I feel sorry for the lad he is being played out of position and he has glaring deficiencies, having said that it wouldn't surprise me to see him scoring goals again at this level for a team who played him down the middle beside a big target man. Perhaps if he and/or his agent hadn't been so greedy in the summer he would be enjoying life at Bristol City along side Dele....AND WE WOULD BE A MILLION AND A HALF POUNDS BETTER OFF!

Talking of out of form front men, Freddy Eastwood appears to be struggling to come to terms with life in the Championship. The gilt edged chance that he fluffed early in the first half seems to sum up his season thus far. I fear the Ricoh boo boys - in the absence of Leon Best - may well be clearing their throats in readiness for the former Southend and Wolves striker. He has ability, he has touch, he has vision, and possibly he would be better employed as a link man lying slightly deeper behind another striker. Clearly though he is out of form and possibly the season spent on the bench looking at the back of Mick McCarthy's thick neck may have dented fitness and confidence. I am hanging my hat on the hope that he will come good toward the end of this season and find his touch next season, it is however looking an increasingly forlorn hope.

On Tuesday night I noticed a number of the teams at the bottom picked up a win signalling the charge for safety has truly begun. I look at our up and coming fixtures and I start to be a tad concerned. The top four have all to visit the Ricoh yet and tricky road trips to grounds such as Turf Moor, Selhurst Park, Deepdale and Carrow Rd places where generally don't do well at all, loom large. Once again Sky Blues fans will be sweating on braking fifty points again this year I feel.

Always end on a positive they say, so I try and stick to that maxim. I was pleased with the effort from the team who pegged away right until the end .Ben Turner had a good game I thought as did Gunny. Westwood once again earned his corn; his first half stop from an edge of the box volley was as good a save as I've seen at the Ricoh by any goalkeeper. The crowd I think deserve a pat on the back too. We didn't turn on the team even though it was clear from very early on that this wasn't going to be our night. That irritatingly popular well known Tesco advertising slogan shone brightly in stark neon as we drove away from the Ricoh Arena. It's clear to me that Coleman needs more than a "little help" from his chairman in the next few days. Sizeable funds to bring in assistance in the guise of some big acquisitions if the improvement of this season is to be maintained, after all size matters.

Gary Mabbutt's Glee

2009-01-25T21:29:12Z

Sunderland or Blackburn away......Sunderland or Blackburn away! Could it be that after all these years our 87 Cup Final hero - Gary Mabbutt - has exacted his revenge? To be honest I thought he'd got us when the Sheffield United away ball came out just before. That would have been bad enough. Dour, surly, ungracious fans, heavy handed treatment from South Yorkshire's finest, cramped squalid away stand at Bramall Lane. Even that now sounds like a positively plum draw compared to Sunderland v Blackburn away. You just knew our ball would squirm its way into the hand of the ex-Spur's centre-half after Gary Pallister had yanked out that stinker. Witness the broad smile that spread over his chops when he realised that he'd set us up with potentially the dullest of dull FA Cup ties.

I've had enough of the Kidderminsters and Torquays, these hiding to nothing ties where you're damned if you do and you're most certainly damned if you don't. Look at the Sutton game from 1989 - but then how can you not - they gleefully replay it every third round day ad infinitum. At least however they are the true essence of the oldest cup competition in the world. Tight cramped, ram-shackle grounds packed to the rafters TV cameras and fleet streets finest jockey like vultures poison pen poised.

I've also have had enough of the Middlesboroughs, the West Hams, the Newcastles and yes the Blackburns. The fans of these Premiership makeweights swagger around making out that the gulf between them and us is nothing short of a yawning chasm. They humour and patronise us with half full grounds and second string elevens belittling us by trotting out half-truths like the "cup isn't their priority" but "we'll give - insert Championship club name here - every respect" Meanwhile its kids for a quid or 10% off for season ticket holders at the club shop, in a desperate attempt to try and fill their own backyard for the magic of the cup.

Nope I wanted a real test. I wanted a full Ricoh and a white hot atmosphere I wanted the TV in town, I wanted media frenzy, the big pay day, the glamorous big name players and larger than life managers. I wanted ticket queues snaking round the Ricoh. A telegraph big match special edition pull out, the CWR phone-in crammed with excited callers, internet forums crackling with anticipation and banter Was it too much to hope for a Man Utd an Arsenal or Liverpool even a Chelsea or dare I say it, a Villa? You know a Rooney, a Ronaldo, a Tevez or a Torres, a Terry even. A Ferdinand a Fabregas, a Fergie, fat Frank. A Gerard or a Giggs, a Wenger or a Van Persie. We beg for big Phil all we get is the bitter pill.

Sunderland or Blackburn away. Excuse me while I stifle a yawn. What a damp squib, what a wet weekend of a draw. Don't get me wrong though, for while both teams will see it as an easy passage to the quarter-finals the visit of Coventry City will hardly set there pulses racing either. The TV companies will be about as interested as the home fans that's for sure, so you can forget any extra TV revenue.

So what's it to be? A less than third full Ewood Park or a half empty Stadium of Light? Can we win? Well yes I suppose we can. But you have to ask yourself whether lightning can strike twice at Ewood Park, especially now Big Sam has arrived to stamp his particular brand of the agricultural version of the beautiful game over his former club Bolton Wanderers nearest rivals

As for Sunderland......argh who cares. The magic of the cup? Give me strength.

Helen Chamberlain, Agatha Christie, Fawlty Towers, Peter Cook can you hear me Peter Cook? You boys took one hell of a beating............hopefully

2009-01-04T17:19:05Z

Fingers crossed but the Sky Blues have been given an excellent opportunity to progress in this year's FA Cup Competition. MK Dons boss Roberto Di Mateo hauled ball 31 out of the pot this afternoon granting us a long trip down to the breezy and bracing Devonshire coast to Plainmoor, the homely home of non-league Torquay United conquers of fellow championship makeweights Blackpool in yesterday's third round. Of course the two clubs have crossed paths in the world's greatest cup competition before. The Sky Blues hosted Torquay at Highfield Road when they began their defence of the trophy following the famous victory against Spurs at Wembley the previous season.

I remember watching the game from a draughty main stand seat - I must have won tickets or been given a freebie - as I usually sat in the West Terrace in those days. The game was memorable for the fact that the pitch had more sand on it than the beach at Torquay and that during a passage of play David Speedie looked for a quick one two with Cyrille Regis. As he played the first pass and went for the return he screamed "Baldy" at Cyrille a reference to the fact that the big man was beginning to thin on top. It was clearly heard in the main stand and drew a big laugh.

The Sky Blues made heavy weather of it before two goals in two second-half minutes - a penalty from Killer Kilcline and a simple tap in from big Cyrille - overcame the doughty visitors. It was interesting to see that the gate then - fifty short of 17 000 - would probably be more than we would get at the Ricoh should the game go to a replay. Hopefully that won't be the needed.

Coleman Pours Cold Water on Transfer Hot Gossip as the Sky Blues edge into the Fourth Round.

2009-01-03T21:44:05Z

Rumour, whisper and hot gossip kept the faithful warm at a sparsely populated House of Pain this afternoon as a weakened Sky Blues went through the motions against non-league Kidderminster Harriers in the third round of the FA Cup.

Tongues already loosened by internet tittle tattle were set firmly wagging by the absence of goal keeper Kieron Westwood from the starting IX. The sight of Mash in goal and Dimi the Greek - recalled from Swansea - warming the bench fuelled speculation that the young Irishman - already in the running for player of the season - was on his way to either Spurs, Newcastle or Villa - depending on whom you spoke to - in a deal reputedly worth £3, 4 or 5 million and/or a player swap deal, again depending on whom you spoke to.

The January transfer window is now in full swing and the pessimists among the home fans were quick to point out that the likes of Tabb, Fox, Ward, Dann and now net custodian Kieron Westwood would not be cup-tied therefore making them more tempting to supposed Premiership suitors who may come calling in the next few days and weeks. If I heard the phrase "selling club" once I heard it a thousand times today. Every club is a selling club, yes, even Manchester United. The red faced red devil himself - Alex Ferguson - fought tooth and nail to ward off Real Madrid last summer when they tried to prize away the prancing pony.

More worryingly for me than any transfer gossip doing the rounds was that a hard working and physical but limited non-league Kidderminster side stifled any kind of early attempts at creativity that the Sky Blues could muster. Doyle and Gunnarson worked hard to deny the visitors any space but the absence of QPR bound Jay Tabb and dare I say it the suspended Boozy meant that the Sky Blues were reliant on the nuisance value that McKenzie and Simpson bring. The former was largely anonymous while the latter improved as the half went on eventually putting in a man of the match performance. Even so Best and Eastwood were left to feed on scraps.

Territorially the home side dominated as Mash viewed the first half from his deck chair underneath a warm blanket with a large cigar and a brandy. Corner after corner rained in on the visitors' goal but the lack of decent delivery and the visitors' height advantage meant that few clear chances were created. The clearest opportunity of the half fell to Best who, fed by the increasingly lively Simpson, burst clear into the box and forced a fine one handed stop from the Harrier's keeper who palmed the shot around the far post for yet another corner, which once again came to nought.

Half-time brought a welcome cup of rosy lea while the jungle drums underneath the CT stand rumbled on. Westwood was by all accounts talking to Spurs at that very moment in a deal reputedly worth £5 million.

The second half was mildly more entertaining than the first but chances were still at a premium. The Sky Blues were camped in the visitors half for long periods but failed to trouble a frankly comfortable Harriers rearguard. Whispers and plans for a wet Wednesday night in darkest Dudley were heard before Sky Blues finally broke through.

A scuffed corner or a precision cross - I'm not sure which - by Doyle reached the edge of the six yard box at knee height where McKenzie was allowed to swivel and lash a left foot volley high into the net, cue relief all around, one goal was surely going to be enough today. We sat back and awaited the onslaught.

The avalanche never came however and my green betting slip with somewhat ambitious wager of Simpson to score first and City to win 5-1 had been discarded long before Best made the game safe with a deflected second that crept inside the right hand post following good work from Eastwood.

Kidderminster rallied but never really saw the whites of Marshall's eyes save for a couple of corners late on and two or three long range efforts. The defence was well marshalled by the experience of Wright and Hall who guided Turner and the debutant Wynter through a largely untroubled afternoon.

The fourth official who looked - from where I was sitting - like a 14 year old girl, signalled 4 minutes of added time to the collective groan of all still inside the emptying arena. The extra minutes kept the fans from the warmth of their cars and the chance to confirm their fears regarding the future of Westwood via Geoff and Clive on CWR. I imagined their disappointment when Chris Coleman came on to declare that Kieron Westwood was ill.

Westwood was ill. Now is that ill in a visit from the doc too ill to get out of bed, take two aspirin and stay in bed kind of ill? Or ill in a Jermaine Defoe I've got me hat and coat on can't face the fans or my teammates at training because I'm off to Spurs kind of ill? Who knows? Talking of hats the sky blues will be in one tomorrow for the 4th round draw. Keep your eyes peeled for number 31.

When Saturday Comes

2008-12-23T13:28:56Z

I'm delighted to hear that the final home game of the season against Watford is now back to its rightful and traditional place of Saturday 3pm. Lords knows footy fans are irritated enough by the regular date and time changes enforced on us by a well know Satellite Company without your own club getting in on the act. The Watford switch would just about give me the full set of times for watching football having now witnessed the City play on Saturday lunchtime, Saturday evening, Sunday lunchtime, Sunday evening, Monday night, Tuesday night, Wednesday night, it's no wonder fans won't commit to a season ticket.

Don't get me wrong I have no problem with rugby. I'm all for promoting minority sports but not at the cost of inconveniencing us - the regulars - for the sake of a spot of egg-chasing. Toffee nosed types wandering around the ground with their pints of black stuff, wax jackets and holier than though attitude cheering on lumbering great beasts of burden who charge around the pitch turning it from a field of dreams into, well, just a field. I mean, let's face it, the only reason you played rugby at school was because you were ugly and hopelessly uncoordinated at real sports, like football. Unless of course you went to a posh school where it was compulsory and we all know the "Eton Rifles" were rubbish at football too, that's why it will always be a working class game, it was christened working class ballet for that very reason.

Like many other City fans I too am unhappy that we are tenants in our "home".
I - and no doubt all concerned - watched with a mixture of civic pride tinged with sky blue sadness as the news broke that first Oasis then Take That and now The Specials announced "sell-out" dates for the Ricoh in 2009. My happiness that world famous acts - yes even Take That - are now performing in my town is tempered by the fact that none of the millions of pounds generated will trickle down to the club. The wider issue here - as stated by Ray Ranson recently - is that the club need to get into a position whereby we move from tenants to owner-occupier as soon as financially possible. Then I'll be happy to accept money from Guinness swilling rugby types and screaming teen pop fans alike.

Eastwood and Morrison Combine but City only Harvest a point against the Tractor Boys

2008-12-20T20:31:54Z

First of all you hear the roar, a roar that you instantly recognised as a goal celebration. Totally distinctive from a penalty shout, the ooh of a near miss or the baying for the red card, it stops you cold in your tracks.. you've missed a goal. Seconds later the anxiety hits you. Which team has scored it? Hurrying down the canal path - late again - we stop to listen to the stadium announcer. Stuart Linnell's throaty rasp is muffled but the tone is unmistakeable as his excitement rises he finishes with the words ..."Clinton Morrison." Yes. One nil up already, perhaps this week we can lay this home form hoodoo.

The joy is short lived. As we hurriedly climbed the steps into the Ricoh the smattering of travelling "Tractor Boys" erupt right on cue and out first view of the pitch afforded us the depressing sight of a huddle of red shirted Ipswich players celebrating their equaliser.

"Was offside" grumbled my sister in law as we sidled in to our row.
Rob Styles referees the game just like a man under pressure, which of course - after his recent high profile faux pas - is exactly what he is. Mistake after mistake - generally in the favour of the visitors - has the attention of the faithful focused squarely on him rather than on the disjointed passing of the home side as they struggle to wrestle the initiative back from the visitors.

Mifsud and Simpson swap flanks. Eastwood and Morrison work tirelessly along the visitors back line but clear sights of the whites of Richard Wright's posts elude us. Tabb and Gunny prod and probe but it's all a little hurried. Mis-placed passes are greeted with impatience and groans. Ipswich look more composed and sense our anxiety. Westwood comes to our aid with a fine block while Ipswich work on Stephen Wright sensing that the returning right back might be the weak link.

Suddenly, City click and Eastwood almost snaps Wright's left hand post with a thunderbolt that cannons out for a throw in. A couple of promising positions come to naught and Rob Styles whistle for half time - about the only thing he got right in the entire first forty five minutes - is met with a muted ripple of applause.

So tea and sympathy for 15 minutes as the faithful mull over another anxiety ridden half, where neither players nor the fans exerted their authority on home turf. The spectacle of one crazed City fan going down on bended knee and proposing lifted the atmosphere and the women around me got all misty eyed at the sight.

Finally, finally Eastwood breaks his drought at the Ricoh. Latching onto a through ball he bears down on the visitors goal before lashing home from ten yards. I suspect there hasn't been a bigger cheer to greet a home goal this season. It was noticeable that Clinton Morrison celebrated with as much gusto as he did for his own strike earlier in the game.

The goal gave you the sense that maybe, maybe this was to be our day after all. Heavy clouds and the sense of anxiety roll over the stadium. We scuttle back into our shells once more as Ipswich gain the high ground. Still it took a mistake and possibly a deflection - I thought, but I was slightly unsighted - that allowed Lisbie to sneak in and lob the on rushing Westwood to restore parity.

The game had a real ding-dong flow about it and a desperate headed clearance defeated Wright's out-stretched hand but not the bar and the visitors escape. Then it's our turn to hold our breath as Ipswich stretch the City defence and Westwood pulls off three good saves to keep us level. Stead finds himself with the freedom of the six yard box and the inevitable Ipswich winner is but seconds away. Somehow the ball rolls across the face of the goal and out for a goal kick. The miss is the cue for Coleman to ring the changes. The largely ineffectual Simpson and tiring Wright are replaced with McKenzie and Hall as the home side - urged on by the fans - fight back again

Even a half full Ricoh generates a decent atmosphere when the home fans get going and the last five minutes has the visitor's goal in a siege as several promising moves and decent crosses fizz across the box with only the vital touch absent.

Styles brings an entertaining game to a close and the players leave the pitch - disappointed - but to a round of generous and frankly much deserved applause.

The positives and negatives are chewed over as we trudge back down the canal path. On CWR the "but" phone calls start to roll in from the "neg heads." Clive tries his best to turn the emphasis around but he must feel like Peter with his finger in that Dyke.

"Westwood did okay...but"
"I thought we did alright...but"
"Eastwood and Morrison scored....but"
"We're mid-table I suppose...but"
"Ray Ranson saved us from administration ... but"

We switch it off.

The positives from today. Westwood gets better almost by the minute, so much so that I wonder how long we can hold onto him. Wright is back - a little ring rusty and short of fitness, but he is back. Turner is proving an able deputy for the injured Scott Dann and continues to develop as does Gunny who although still a teenager has a real presence. The two strikers notched and Mckenzie is back.

A season cannot be judged on one game - although I often hear people trying to do it on CWR most Saturdays. We're clearly not automatic promotion material, but neither are we relegation fodder either. I think we're about five to eight points shy of where we should be. Those points have been frittered away at the Ricoh had we secured those then we would be in the top ten. I'm encouraged. Although the squad is small and young, and injuries have hurt us, and despite new players taking time in bedding in, the type and quality of the football is generally easier on the eye compared to recent years. There is cash to spend in January and rumours of signings litter the message boards. Results and consistency as ever in this division continue to elude, but don't shout it from the rooftops, I think we could be in for a better second half of the season.

You don't have to be on Mastermind to see we are in Transition, but it helps..

2008-11-23T13:58:35Z

Last Friday was a red letter day in my family's history. For, on the day when the city commemorated the anniversary of the blitz my great Aunt, Jean Taylor an octogenarian - and survivor of that night - and a survivor in every sense of the word - appeared on the BBC TV show Mastermind. Striding confidently up to the famous black chair she answered questions on her specialist subject the events of the most infamous night in the history of our beloved City 14th November 1940, her 14th Birthday. My Great Aunt - a former teacher and multi-linguist, who obtained a masters at the age of 74 - was nursing my Granddad who was suffering form shell shock having been injured at Dunkirk.

Across town my other Granddad Reg Taylor - sadly no longer with us - spent the evening ferrying truck loads of live ammunition to the anti-aircraft guns around the city. We all of course can relate family anecdotes and tales of that dreadful night; I suspect every Coventry family was touched for better or worse by the unfolding events. I suspect every Coventry family has a Great Aunty Jean or a Granddad Reg. A person imbibed with spirit, character, and strength, humour, and discipline with a balance borne out of their life experiences, unaffected by minor issues, trivia and frivolity. My great Aunt - a real Cov kid - has it all, in spades. She's as Coventry as Lady Godiva herself. When asked by quiz master what she put her longevity down to she answered without hesitation "Clean living...................clean living and dirty men!"

Bill Shankly famously said that football was more important than life or death. That of course was a fatuous remark, but I regularly hear TV pundits and radio commentators over-hyping when talking of football matches in terms of war, battles and heroes. Allying a simple sport, a game with the deeds of real men in genuine life or death situations, which perhaps answers the question why some football supporters become raving, rabid imbeciles at times. They've lost the balance of what's important, I mean really important.

I mean why boo Leon Best or cheer riotously when he is substituted? Why hurl foulmouthed, vitriolic abuse at Isaac Osbourne or Kieron Westwood when we conceded a goal in the gathering gloom of last Saturday evening? Why ring BBC CWR and scream for Chris Coleman's head?

Saturday's game with Plymouth Argyle, indeed the Crystal Palace game before it lived in my memory for about as long as it took me to walk back over the canal to my car. I can see that building a team based on youth takes time, patience and understanding. Maybe some of us need to show a little more character, strength, spirit, discipline. Maybe some of us need to take a leaf out of the books of the Great Aunty Jeans and the Granddad Regs of this world.

You know you've had a good night as an away fan...

2008-11-23T13:58:35Z

When with a few minutes left and the game in the bag you gleefully wave away the home fans who are draining out of the ground faster than bath water down a plug hole. The small island of Burnley fans surrounded by an ocean of empty blue seats cavorted in the chill night air while the faithful headed for the sanctuary of a warm pub and a cold pint of harsh reality. Burnley manager Owen Coyle stood on the edge of his technical area glowing like the kid in the Ready Brek adverts warmed by the knowledge that he'd pretty much had the perfect away game as a manager. The introduction of two second half substitutions that proceeded to interchange passes to set up a third wonder was the cherry on this particular away day cake. Job done.

The visitors boss had managed to do a Capello type half-time tweak to his side which ensured that the slight advantage that the sky blues enjoyed at the break was wiped out and for the second time in the space of four days the fans had to endure the site of seeing their side throw away an early advantage to end up pointless.

Shrewdly Coyle was able to spot the tide of the game turning in his favour and while the home side laboured to create a chance worthy of the name, Coyle had the luxury of introducing players with sharp minds, quick feet, pace, guile and an eye for goal. What did Coleman have when he looked over his shoulder? A former non-league player and a one paced Frenchman who gets caught in possession more times than a small time drugs dealer. Eastwood, Best and Morrison must have looked on ruefully as the incisive passing of the Clarets midfield carved open our ponderous rear guard to present Robbie Blake with the guilt edged opportunity to lift the ball over the advancing Westwood for the killer second goal. Blake then turned provider with a superb cross field pass to set up Eagles.

Coyle has spent well in the summer on highly rated youngsters such as Martin Paterson £1.3 million from Scunthorpe and £800 000 for Chris Eagles from Manchester United. As well as shrewd moves in the shape of experienced stalwarts such as Steven Thompson from Cardiff, Coventry born Graham Alexander from local rivals PNE and Robbie Blake from Leeds.

But what of the sky blues? Well for me the positives are that we are attempting to play decent football in terms of players who are comfortable on the ball and in terms of retaining possession. We are a young side in the main and I find myself more optimistic than pessimistic. At this early stage of the season my glass is still half full. Sadly, like my half full glass theirs noting up top and that's the worrying element. Eastwood, Best and Morrison et al seem stilted, immobile and uncoordinated. Three individuals who have not yet managed to gel in anyway. Also our midfield while full of endeavour and energy is still lacking in genuine width, flair and creativity. The biggest concern now thought could be squad numbers or rather the lack of them. Tabb, Doyle and Gunnarson all limped through last night's game. Two had to be substituted and the third should have been. This perhaps goes someway to explaining why we sat deeper and deeper as the game went on. It also may go some way to explaining why Coyle introduced his attacking options to stretch the play and our tiring, limping midfield even more. The frustration is that occasionally we have seen glimpses of what the team is capable. Which is why defeats such as last night and recent reverses away at Wolves, Cardiff and Doncaster are all the more galling.

Trudging home I had to endure the grumblings of one sky blue fan who reasoned that Burnley were some how a poor side because they only brought roughly 300 supporters south for this midweek midwinter clash. I personally feel that is being very disingenuous to Owen Coyle and his team whom I feel could be this season's surprise package. Possibly, however that sentiment voiced by the chap whom I followed over the railway bridge back toward the canal is spreading to the players also, who perhaps are believing in their own publicity at the moment. Have they learnt nothing from the Doncaster debacle? This is life in the Championship I'm afraid where the old adage that on any given day anyone can beat anyone is carved deep into stone. Look at last nights games Norwich humble Wolves, Barnsley roll over Sheffield Wednesday. It's no coincidence that the product of it's the leagues sponsor can fizz with effervescence one minute like a 4-1 home win over Southampton then fall flat and tasteless the next like a 1-3 reverse to Burnley.

Andy Blair and the Demented Chicken

2008-09-24T18:14:55Z

The crazy incident at the Watford versus Reading fixture at the weekend reminded me of a similar event which took place at Highfield Road one September afternoon in the 1980/81 season.

Sitting on the thick wooden seats of the Sky Blue stand for the game in question that day I recalled a very open tussle with Crystal Palace in which City - if memory serves - had taken the upper hand and were ahead by the odd goal in three early in the second half. The visitors - attacking the old Kop end - were busting every sinew to equalise when in the 55th minute the referee, a Mr D Webb, awarded a free kick in a dangerous position around our box. Up stepped young striking sensation Clive Allen - the game's first £1 million teenager, and the scorer of The Eagles first goal complete with classic 80's bubble perm - who carefully addressed the ball before taking several strides back. The faithful weren't concerned of course by the award of free-kicks in dangerous situations back then. We were regularly informed by the media that the clumsy, leaden-footed, brick-booted, one dimensional British player simply wasn't capable of "Bending it Like Beckham". Bamboozling "banana" free-kicks as the media christened them was the exclusive preserve of the Brazilians.

Occasionally grainy clips would appear on the "Saint and Greavsie" on Saturday lunchtimes showing goals from the intriguingly exotic South American Leagues. These clips would have us all drooling in open mouthed wonder before rushing out to attempt to replicate them in the local park - jumpers for goal posts and all that - only to fail spectacularly. Our orange "Wembley Trophy" footballs sliced or toe-poked in all manner of directions, leaving the under employed keeper to chomp on a bar of Curly Wurly or some such.

Anyway, back to Clive Allen and this dangerous free kick. I was talking to ex-City, Villa and Sheffield Wednesday midfielder Andy Blair the other day - as you do. He reminded me that he'd played in this Crystal Palace fixture and he gave me a pitch eye view of what happened next;

It appears that Andy had positioned himself in the wall and suddenly realised he was directly in Clive Allen's firing line so he tactically withdrew to the safer end of the wall. The ref blew his whistle and Andy and the rest of the wall watched in admiration as the young Palace striker bent a strike of power, pace and precision up over the sky blue barrier and into the top left hand corner of the net past the despairing grasp of Jim Blyth.

The young midfielder -who scored that day - could only admire the finish but then stared in bemusement as the City right back and legend - Mick "Scoop" Coop - leathered the ball up the pitch. Andy believed that Coop did this in frustration. However, bizarrely, the referee Webb signalled for play to continue.

The young Allen halted in mid celebration raced around the pitch before chasing after the man in black his arms flailing around - in Andy's words - squawking like a demented chicken. He and several other Palace players chased after the official screaming that the game should be abandoned and replayed, or awarded to the visitors by default. Rules should be changed, heads should roll, Government's would fall, planets would collide, the earth would be wracked with plagues and famine etc. The ref - and the relieved City players - carried on oblivious, much to the hilarity of the fans. Andy spent the rest of the game avoiding Palace midfielder Gerry Murphy who had taken serious umbrage. Particularly when Andy himself stole in to seal the game for the Sky Blues when he scored the third and killer goal with 17 minutes left. Murphy spat at the Scottish international and threatened to kick him if he went near the ball again. Andy re-called spending the last few minutes trying his best to keep out of his way.

The game was captured by MOTV cameras and I clearly remember Jimmy Hill stifling a grin as he replayed the incident which clearly showed the ball flashing into the top corner before hitting the metal frame and bouncing out. Allen - clearly still in shock - was interviewed after the game and brilliantly described the incident as the best goal he'd never scored.

The Case for the Defence

2008-09-24T17:12:18Z

Money-bags QPR were the latest side to leave the Ricoh this season with the word nil resounding in their ears, although the second half resembled a siege of Rourke's Drift proportions. Our lads led by Michael Caine - resplendent in a red tunic - screaming "front rank fire, middle rank fire" rebuffed the foreign hordes from the Bush.... Shepherds Bush. What names too? Leigertwood, Buzsaky, Gorkss, and Cerny, these might get you big points if you were playing scrabble in Poland but they won't get you three points at the Ricoh.

Mind you our back four - and of course Kieren Westwood - had to be on their mettle. The midfield had given up so much ground that they played the second half in the car park of the Coach and Horses on Longford Road. Jay Tabb had to be rescued from the canal twice and then pay to get back in. Not before he'd put £10 on his cashless card though so he could buy the forwards a cup of tea each while they watched the game from the QPR half.

The fans focus seems to be on our lack of goals. Rightly so - goals as they say - win matches. But credit where it's due. Their average age is barely 22 and collective appearances number less than 200 but Chris Coleman and Steve Keane seem to be moulding them nicely. What was the adage about getting it right at the back first?

Back to QPR though and it's little wonder the Hoops fans were largely silent on Saturday. I mean how the hell do you invent popular terrace chants with those names? Actually - talking of terrace chants - well done to the lads under the scoreboard for injecting some much needed atmosphere into the proceedings. Is it the new West Terrace I wonder?

The muteness of the visitors however hides a deep concern for us all. They are still coming to grips with a recent club statement regarding a massive price hike. Any club statement that opens with the line "Our ultimate goal is to reach the Promised Land of the Premiership and beyond"- clearly written by Buzz Lightyear - but in the next breath mentions "price restructuring", would have any fan worried.

The statement trumpeted prices rises of eye watering proportions. Some hoops fans will pay £50 to watch QPR host Derby County next Saturday; £50! The Rams are afforded platinum status on the recent price re-grade. Derby County! Platinum? How much longer can clubs get away with this? How much longer will the game squeeze its life blood dry yet condone the likes of say a Kevin Kyle? I'm sure every club has got at least one. A player who strolls from his gleaming Audi A5 parked in his free parking space at 2:45 on a Saturday afternoon to his free seat in a comfy corporate box, while another truly obscene amount of money is deposited in his bank account? 16 700 on Saturday its clear that the fans have start voting with their feet. When was the last time Mr Kyle last used his I wonder?

Should Ray Ranson have bothered? I wish Steve Spires was here.

2008-09-15T11:38:19Z

"I bet he wishes he hadn't bothered" I said to my missus as I nodded towards the directors' box while listening to the smattering of boos at the final whistle on Saturday. "Yeah. That's gratitude for you" my better half replied.

Up in the posh seats I spied the former Man City full back with a bemused expression on his face possibly musing over the same thoughts as the faithful disappeared down into the bowels of the Ricoh Arena where no doubt the steps were too steep and the concrete floor of the concourse was too hard.

Whats wrong with us? Why have we suddenly become a bunch of moaning whinges? Why are the silent majority just letting the vociferous minority rule the roost? Who are this vociferous minority? Where have they suddenly come from?
What do they want? No wonder gates are falling - people blame the credit crunch - but when you could find yourself plonked next to some shaven headed, over weight, knuckle dragging Neanderthal decked out in Burberry who in between mouthfuls of a steak and kidney pie systematically abuses players for the slightest indiscretion. Who would want that for their dose of Saturday afternoon escapism from the depressingly humdrum that is daily life in Brown's Britain?

Is it high expectations? Are we a poor mans Newcastle United? No. More likely its 40 years of pain and frustration starting to manifest itself. But, are we a special case? Are we more deserving than the long suffering fans of clubs such as Southampton, Norwich? Clubs identical in many ways to us.

May be after all these years the Aussies were right? Is it because there is an antipathy toward football in general at the moment? The fact that you can't watch the national team on TV without having to fork out even more money rankles. The home nations collective no show at Euro 2008, rankles. The national press's obvious glee in reporting that footballs millionaires under achievement shown up by our Olympic "part-timers" returning with the fruits of four years of early morning training sessions dangling around their collective necks, rankles too. Maybe it's the weather? Maybe it's the petrol and fuel price rises?

Some or all of this may also go some way to explaining Fabio Capello's admission that the England players are "frightened" of playing at Wembley due to the reaction of disgruntled, and frustrated supporters tired of paying over the odds prices to watch over paid, under performing "premiership stars" go through the motions or worse be outplayed by teams who can actually pass a ball. Sound familiar.

Clearly the players discussed the reaction of the fans at the final whistle. I read with a tinge of disappointment Leon Best's comments in the CT this morning. Are we determined to drive this bright young prospect into the hands of his home town club? I've heard Clinton Morrison's thoughts on the CWR, as well as Chris Coleman's feelings after the game about the fans reaction. That is when Geoff Foster could manage to find the right tape.

The whole episode made me think of the very sad and untimely demise of an acquaintance that I haven't seen since the club upped sticks to the Ricoh. Steve Spires I figured had become a little disillusioned with it all. His absence perhaps a manifestation of a yearning for the back roads and boozers of Stoke and the "old haunt" of Highfield Road with all its nooks and crannies. Little did I know that he had been gravely ill for the past few years? Sadly news reached me of his passing last week.

"Captain Black". Was a lover of all things sky blue. His laid back style, easy conversation and acerbic wit. All of these characteristics made him a joy to bump into while I was busy flogging fanzines outside the Mercer's Arms car park on match days. The man was no fool though and he didn't suffer them either.

He would just appear like the shop keeper from Mr Benn. He never seemed to change. His trusty, well worn black leather jacket became increasingly more "lived in" and his five o clock shadow became a little less intimidating flecked as it was with a hint of grey. But the easy approach and ready wit were always in evidence. How we could do with a dose of those qualities now. Rest in peace Steve Spires.

Our Next Caller is John from Wyken.....

2008-09-13T20:10:48Z

I like Preston North End. I like their tradition and history. I like their ground Deepdale with its three- and soon to be added fourth - well appointed stands, it reminds me of Highfield Road. I like the fact that it has the free to enter football museum. I like their home kit. White shirts, navy shorts, white socks. Simple. Solid. Traditional. I like the fact that despite selling a number of decent strikers, Healy, Cresswell, Macken, Fuller, Nugent; and losing a couple of decent managers Moyes, Davies. They've always maintained a challenge at this level.

I like the fact that I once won an argument with a friendly landlord in Preston. He tried to tell me that Preston were a shocking side, much worse than Coventry. I begged to differ. As we left for the ground he bet me a free beer that Preston wouldn't win that day. Imagine his surprise when he found me back in his bar barely 45 minutes later. Demanding my free beer. The half-time score at Deepdale. Preston North End 3 Coventry City 0. Fair play he gave me a free pint for every goal that the Lillywhite's had scored.

It wasn't always thus. When we were first relegated I was arrogant and dismissive. We were above these sorts of small clubs. We were premiership, we were a cut above. We would surely put the likes of Preston North End and others to the sword; swat them like insignificant insects on our relentless charge back to where we belonged. Consistent heavy defeats at Deepdale slowly knocked that oafish, blinkered view out of me however. Now I have a healthy respect for the Lancastrian outfit and view fixtures with them - particularly away - with a strong dose of new found respect. When they arrived today at the Ricoh second in the league after a promising start, even more so.

Sitting in the sun prior to kick off the consensus was that a point would not be too much of a disappointment given our recent run of defeats. And as 0-0's go it wasn't that bad. Given the heat! People have to take account of those extreme conditions today. It's been a long time since the players played in that kind of relentless sun.

I thought City started well enough. Boozy protected by his minder "The Doyler" started well spraying a couple of decent balls around as well as working well on his defensive duties. The back four coped well with the - shall we say - physical approach of PNE's front two of Mellor and Parkin. A right pair of bouncers in more ways than one. The front guys looked lively especially McKenzie who appeared to be getting some joy down the left. A couple of decent half chances were created in what was a reasonable encounter. Things started to go down hill after the break as the game slipped into a malaise of misplaced passes coupled with poor control. The faithful's frustration manifested itself
culminating in some purple headed ejit - all veins, tattoos and spittle - barracking the Leon Best for not "f***ing tracking back" and being "f***ing lazy" The fact that he was in an offside position and would have been pulled up had he touched the ball was totally lost on Mr Purple Head. Still it's all about opinions isn't it?....sigh.

The fact that the former Saints man was booed by a small section of the crowd who cheered when he was replaced by Simpson speaks volumes for these clowns. I noted many others around me sadly shaking their heads and rolling their eyes in exasperation. The youngster showed plenty of effort and commitment in his first full game of the campaign; however he did fluff his lines when slid in by Eastwood mid way through the first half dallying when a first time strike was called for.

Talking of which Freddy Eastwood is slowly settling in. His fitness and injury problems aside I thought he showed up well although he held onto the ball for too long on a couple of instances either through a lack of a team mate in a decent position or trying to work an opening for himself. Anyone who's seen the compilation video of the goals he scored for Southend will have noted that a number were scored following mazy dribbles into the box.

I think at the moment we look exactly what we are. A team with several new players still learning each others strengths. The back five - right back aside - seem settled. But the midfield and forward line are very much a work in progress.

As we strolled down the canal path back to the car park in the late Summer sun we were overtaken by the "Coventrian" canal boat slowly chugging its merry way back to the canal basin. I couldn't help wondering if - like the slowly meandering narrow boat - Coventry City was destined to laboriously trudge the country's backwaters for the rest of my natural.

Climbing behind my steering wheel I flicked on CWR only to find some bloke wittering on for twenty minutes or so about his season ticket problem. We really are a nation of whiners. It's bound to get us a gold medal at London 2012 if it ever becomes an Olympic event. Moaning and queuing we're nailed on certainties.

I found myself screaming at Geoff Foster to cut the guy off only to find the CWR man sympathising. What is this Samaritans FM? I yearned for Clive Eakin. Oh for the days of the legend that is Rob Gurney. Geoff was obviously having a bad day for after letting Mr "I've been a fan for over 40 years and I've never been so insulted" - whinge on about how the salt on the chips at the Ricoh is just too salty, he then plays a tape of Chris Coleman's thoughts on the game only to realise afterwards that it was the tape from the Doncaster game. Moving swiftly on he switches to Rob back at the studio who reads out a number of miserably depressing text messages before quickly introducing a caller;

"Let's talk to John in Wyken"
"Hi John"
"Hi Geoff - I thought we were rubbish today Geoff"
"Were you at the game today John"
"Erm...no..."

Click. That was enough Coventry City for me today.

Thornton's Selection Dilemma - and I'm not talking Chocolates!

2008-09-03T19:12:21Z

The recent surprise "sale" of Julian Gray prompted Chris Coleman to respond to queries regarding the deadline day deal by commenting that he felt had enough cover down the left hand side listing McKenzie, Tabb and Mifsud as suitable replacements for the now departed former Birmingham and Crystal Palace midfielder. Surprisingly - or worryingly - if you are Kevin Thornton the youngster was not mentioned in this company, giving rise to concerns that the Irish youngster has, at best, slipped down the pecking order, or at worst, disappeared off the Chris Coleman radar altogether in what could very well be his make or break season.

The allocated squad number of 29 hardly fills us with confidence that Thornton will feature more regularly than of late. Of course the squad number could have no relevance whatever. His omission from the aforementioned quote could be that Coleman sees the young Irishman as being of more use in another position. A central midfield berth perhaps? An advanced role playing in behind the strikers? Even as an impact player, arriving from the bench in a bid to affect the latter stages of a game. Who knows maybe even a replacement right back? The worry for me is that Coleman's statement means that Kevin Thornton is about to go the way of a number of City youngsters who have failed to make the grade at Championship level. Remember John Eustace, Craig Pead, David Pipe, Barry Quinn, Liam Davis and others. All showed a reasonable amount of promise before being allowed to leave.

Thornton appears to be a firm fans' favourite though. His brief - almost cameo performances - have caught the eye of a number of bosses who've taken charge of first team affairs in the three years that KT has been part of the first team squad. But therein lies the rub. A paltry 18 starts in three seasons appears to underline that Messrs Reid, Adams, Dowie and the current incumbent Coleman do not share the fans' view that Thornton commands a first team place. Injuries have played their part but 29 appearances from the bench would suggest that something is awry behind the scenes for one who from the outside looking in appears to have the ability to carry a threat at this level. Rumours of ill-discipline, application, diet and weight problems regularly surface on the grapevine that is the various supporters' forums. Possibly the "smoke" and "fire" adage might raise its ugly head at this point. The argument of young talent being brought in from abroad limiting the chances of young local talent can be dismissed in this case. This is Coventry City not Arsenal or Chelsea.

So is the Drogheda born youngster about to go the way of a number of his peers and slip silently - at best - into lower league obscurity? If so it may leave the faithful scratching their heads and asking the pertinent question; just what does it say about the club's youth policy that so few youngsters seem to make the grade at this level or higher? Marcus Hall would appear to be the best youngster that the club has produced over the last decade or so. That in itself is disturbing. There are - you could argue - potentially a few pretenders to that crown in the shape of Chris Kirkland, now a regular at Wigan Athletic. Calum Davenport who is now finding regular football at West Ham. Little Sheff perhaps, although the jury is very much still out on whether he can establish himself as a true premiership player. Others could point to highly rated Daniel Sturridge, poached from the academy and now making a name for himself at Eastlands. By anyone's standards whether Kevin Thornton makes it or not a conveyor belt it certainly isn't.

Transfer Deadline Proves to be a Gray Day in a Grey Summer

2008-09-02T22:03:59Z

Has there ever been a more acrimonious transfer period than this summer? Manchester United are blarting at Real Madrid's secret approach for Ronaldo. Madrid themselves are squealing at Chelsea's under hand approach for Robinho who was so traumatised by the whole thing that he spent the entire summer confused and crying, according the Real president, before jumping on a jet late last night and flying to London to sign for a club that plays in Manchester. I'm convinced he still isn't sure who he has signed for. Meanwhile Spurs are squealing over United's approach for Berbatov, while Blackburn protested about old boy Mark Hughes trying to tempt Rocque Santa Cruz to the blue half of Manchester. And as for Gareth Barry don't get me started. Even the sky blues had trouble nailing down deals. The Eastwood, Morrison and Wright deals all dragged on and on.

As for the people at Sky - the company that invented football back in 1992 - well of course they love it and milk each deal for all that it's worth.

The fans of course are whipped up into some sort of rabid frenzy like kids on Christmas Eve wondering what will be under the tree in the morning. Will it be a Scalextric, a Nintendo Wii, an ipod or an Argentinian Centre Half? They wake up on transfer deadline day plus one and dash downstairs only to find none of the above just a 32 year old journeyman right back from Crewe on a loan until January. I imagine that's how most Fulham fans felt this morning when they sat down at the breakfast table only to find Julian Gray bobbing up and down in their corn flakes.

Sadly most fans see little or no movement in club personnel as some sort of depressing pre-cursor to a club run by a board with no ambition or desire to succeed. This is underlined by a total lack of transfer deadline day activity, a sure sign that the new season - barely a month old - is already a write off. They seem to ignore the fact that said board has spent most of the summer bringing in half a dozen players or more. Me I'm glad that we haven't had an influx of players in the last 24 hours. To me it almost smacks of panic buying. Look at the purchase of Leon McKenzie for example, a last minute deadline day buy who cost the best part of a million and is still yet to convince me that he is worth that value.

Me. An injury free right back aside, I'm happy with the business we have concluded this summer. Now let's just sit back and see what Coleman can do with them over the next year or two.