Forgive me Delilah

Wolves (a) Sat 14th Aug + Spurs (h) Sat 21st Aug : Here we go again!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 13:52:00 +0000

After the chronic disappointment that was the 2010 World Cup, all eyes swiftly turned once again to that tried and trusted old friend that is the domestic football season. No novelty horns or malformed balls here. Just the regular thrills and spills of match day in all its glory.

With the deflating summer tournament over and done with, fans of all clubs began pouring over rumour sites and message boards seeking out transfer gossip in the faint hope of a major new signing materialising before the big kick off.

Inevitably, expectations rise. This is our season for sure. The squad's in place, the belief is there, and before it all kicks off, you've got nothing but a blank canvas ahead of you, the 2010/2011 footballing story waiting to be written.

Two weeks into the season, you're team's already lost twice, the defence is still leaking goals and the manager still won't sign that elusive box-to-box creative midfielder. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I'm sure many fans have come back down to earth with a bump at this stage of the season, no points from your first few games, perhaps a Carling Cup exit to boot (don't tell me, you're focusing on the league AGAIN this year), you begin to wonder what you were getting excited for over those distant summer months.

For my beloved Stoke, it's certainly proven to be a disappointing start thus far.

An opening day defeat at local rivals Wolves was compounded by an injury to new boy Kenwyne Jones. Jones has been signed as the target man alternative to Mama Sidibe. Essentially, Tony Pulis wanted Mama....but with goals. A novel idea in a forward I'm sure you'll agree. In theory this big forward ticks all the right boxes, and with any luck will provide an excellent partner to Ricardo Fuller.

Initially we appeared to be in luck as the injury was reported as not being as bad as first thought. Apparently it was only minor ligament damage (how minor can ligament damage be?) and it was suggested that the lay-off would be weeks rather than months as first feared. When asked about the striker's condition after the Spurs game however, Tone was worryingly vague on the diagnosis. Talk of 'injections', 'seeing how it goes' and 'not rushing anything', started alarm bells ringing to most Stoke fans who are by now fluent in the language of Pulis. Not to worry, we've still got Big Mama in the mean time right?................More on that later.

Luckily I missed the Wolves defeat due to being away on holiday. If we were being honest, I'm sure several of the male contingent who went on this holiday were kicking themselves for not figuring out this would be the Premier League's big kick off weekend when we planned this jaunt. Never mind though, with stiff upper lips we shook it off and made a mental note for all future August holidays. Naturally though, come the big kick off, several in our party had their phones out ready for score updates, and as we sat in the foyer of the German History Museum (well worth a visit.....if you're asking) sure enough, the half-time results were in.

"Right, here we go." I thought with misplaced pre-season confidence. "2-0 up? Maybe just a goal. Hell, I suppose a draw at half time is acceptable. Anyway, I'm just glad the season's back and right now I'm relaxed and full of optimism. Hit me with the half-time score, the first of a long and prosperous season."

"You're 2-0 down".

"Fucking hell."

Sure enough, a text to the old man confirmed it. We were two behind and playing poorly. A glimmer of hope was offered by Faye's 55th minute header, but ultimately, we couldn't muster up another goal or indeed another meaningful shot on target in the rest of the game.

It's telling that on Match of the Day, the last bit of action they showed in this game was our goal, which, bear in mind, occurred in the 55th minute. So, that means for the last 35 minutes of this game there was not a single noteworthy moment of goal mouth action. Another glorious season stretches agonisingly out ahead of us.

Shaking off that disappointment, and maintaining the veneer of optimism that can only be mustered this early on in proceedings, the first home game of the new campaign against Spurs was our next stop.

When Honest 'Arry's side broke the standard top four monopoly to gain that lucrative champions league spot last season, they undoubtedly confirmed themselves as one of the toughest prospects for the rest of the league to face. However, with a packed Britannia on our side, and a host of injuries on theirs, you just had a sneaky feeling we might get a result.

Alas, yet again my optimism was misplaced, and an encouraging performance from the boys wasn't enough to stop us from falling to a 2-1 defeat. Gareth Bale (does anyone else find themselves regularly referring to him as 'Christian Bale' by accident or is that just me?), got lucky with their first goal as a Shawcross clearance cannoned in off his chimpy face. Following a Fuller equaliser however, he delivered a second goal of true class. A masterful dipping volley from the edge of the area that even many Stoke fans had to grudgingly applaud.

Spurs went into the break a goal ahead and comfortably in the driving seat. Stoke emerged for the second half however, revitalised and fired up. New boy Jon Walters was having an impressive debut up front. Then again, being able to both control a ball and remain upright already put him ahead of Mama. It was when the oft overlooked Tuncay came on up front however and the former Ipswich man was moved out to the right wing, that Stoke began to look truly dangerous with a flurry of chances coming soon after the Turk's introduction.

The introduction of Mama midway through the second half was an expected move by Tone and one not particularly objected to by many at the Brit. Whilst the big man's abilities are a source of amusement for most of us, and he clearly isn't good enough to start week-in-week-out, he does provide a big physical presence and can win plenty of headers on his day. He offers that 'something different' from the bench.

Within minutes of his arrival however, he collapsed after an innocuous challenge and was ultimately stretchered off the pitch clearly in a great deal of distress. After the game we'd learn that he had snapped his Achilles and could be out for the rest of the season. Whilst not quite being the tragic loss Tone will no doubt paint it as, the loss of Mama is still bad news for Stoke. As long as Tony plays the way he does, players like Mama will be crucial to the team. Another injury to a striker that means that we must cross our fingers even tighter and hope Jones is back in action soon.

Tuncay then missed a glorious chance from about a yard out, somehow managing to direct a header away from goal when it looked harder not to score. Shawcross then blazed a snap shot over the bar from just outside the six yard box and shortly after that Ricardo had a perfectly weighted volley tipped wide by Gomes in the Spurs goal. The keeper would then thwart Tuncay as well as a long-range effort took a wicked deflection and looked to be dipping into the Spurs net before he coolly palmed it over. It was about this time when I realised we just weren't going to score.

Some games you can just sense it. I'm sure it's the same for every team at some point. Maybe it hits you when the opposition keeper makes yet another spectacular save. Maybe it's when you're star striker balloons over from a yard out. Maybe it's when you hit the woodwork for the umpteenth time. Whatever it is, some games, you just know it isn't going to be your day.

Unexpectedly though, in the 86th minute, came what appeared to be a breakthrough. After a patented Britannia goal mouth scramble, the ball dropped kindly onto new boy Walters's head mere centimeters out from goal. Now please bare in mind I'm writing this from memory so odd facts may be subject to the slightest amount of exaggeration.

What followed next however was perhaps the single greatest injustice in footballing history........ever.

The ball flew towards goal and hit Peter Crouch in the mid-riff/arm area before rebounding out. The Stoke players celebrated like they'd scored a goal, a few Spurs players stopped as if they'd conceded a goal, and all eyes turned to the ref for the inevitable confirmation. However, Chris Foy instead looked gingerly over at his assistant, who was about ten times further away than he was and had about 20 players blocking his view. Rather unsurprisingly, the assistant couldn't see the incident at all. Foy however, was just a few feet away from the melee. After consulting his assistant however, and bracing himself for the full brunt of the Britannia's fury, he waved play on visibly explaining that he simply couldn't see it.

Now, I'm not going to focus too much on Chris Foy here. He had an OK game otherwise and being face-on to the incident rather than looking along the line, it's semi-understandable why he wasn't in a position to give the goal if he needs to be 100% sure. In theory that's why his assistant is there, but he too was unable to give a clear answer. No, Mr Foy is not solely to blame, some of the blame must also lie with assorted important figures in the various footballing governing bodies.

Their constant refusal to make any changes that might actually benefit the game, such as goal-line technology, is just astounding. I won't drone on about this debate too much, both sides of the argument have already been argued far more eloquently than I could manage here. All I will say is this, even the most basic, simplistic, cop-out solution to this problem, the extra official behind the goal, would have ensured a goal was given here. It is surely in the interests of the game that contentious decisions like this don't keep arising and the only thing stopping it is the pig-headedness of Mr Blatter and assorted FA chiefs. Anyway, that's a rant for another time...

In the end, Stoke couldn't find a way back and the game finished 2-1 to Spurs. The performance was definitely encouraging and at this early stage of the season there's no cause for alarm, but with an away trip to Stamford Bridge next up, (please lads, keep it to below 7 this time), and then Villa at home, it's not looking like we'll have many point on the board come mid-September.

So, to sum up, two losses, star signing and attacking lynch pin (ahem) injured, controversial late equaliser ruled out and since I began writing this blog we have also had a player refuse to play for us in the league cup...............ahhhhhhhhh it's good to be back.

South Africa 2010 - Balls, Horns and Beglin.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 15:08:00 +0000

Over the past few weeks, the feast of footballing action we have been treated to in South Africa has been enjoyable, if never quite astounding. The first week and a half was slow and without doubt a tad deflating. The anticipated onslaught of dramatic all-action clashes has never really transpired and instead the less skillful teams parked the bus and sought to frustrate their rivals in the hope of nicking a point.

As a Stoke fan, this was definitely not what I wanted. I have to deal with that all season. I had a good 8 months of last ditch defending and ten men behind the ball, this was meant to be an upgrade.

Truth be told, this World Cup has proven to be a little disappointing, with few quality games or memorable goals to speak of thus far. Coupled with England's timid, ineffective and, well, shit performance (more on this later), it makes for a slightly underwhelming tournament as a whole.

That being said, it's still a thoroughly enjoyable way to spend a balmy summer month. When it comes to World Cup's, much like with an orgasm or a pizza, even your worst is better than none at all.

With that in mind, here are a few observations on the Tournament so far.

1/ Jubulani

Oh god shut up. Please just shut the hell up about this sodding ball. For two and a half weeks, not a game could go by without the commentator or his "expert" companion uttering something along the lines of, "there's the much-discussed Jabulani in action."

The only people it is much discussed by are you pundits and the odd journalist running low on ideas. No one else really cares. You can't just not shut up about something and then say it's much talked about. That's just cheating.

Granted, every now and then, when Ronaldo blast a free kick over, or Frank sends another one into a wall, we viewers may mutter "maybe it is the ball after all." That's about it though. To us mere mortals, who regularly play football with balls of varying weight, size and suitability, it seems like it's being blown fairly largely out of proportion.

I'm in no doubt whatsoever, that this new ball is different to previous ones, is somehow more rounder (what shape were they before?), and is more difficult to keep down. These are professional footballers however, who have had many weeks to train with it and master it's flights of fancy. If they can't control it, tough tits, it's a round bit of leather, I'm sure you'll make do.

If the ball was suddenly a trapezoid shape or decorated with a ceremonial spike, then yes, we'd discuss it at great length and offer the players a degree of sympathy. As it is, to trot out an old cliche, it's the same for both teams, now get on with it.

2/ Corners

Is it just me or has this tournament seen an unusually large amount of corners hit the first man. Some experts may blame Jab-u-fuckin-lani, yet surely if anything, we should be seeing an excess of corners flying aimlessly over the despairing heads of the crowded penalty area? Obviously this still happens, but the vast majority of corners (based on absolutely no stats whatsoever) seem to crash into the first man.

Are we to believe the cream of the Worlds footballing talent haven't learned how much oomph to put on the ball yet?

There is nothing more frustrating than when there's mere seconds left on the clock, your corner specialist waves the entire team forward into the box, spends a good 30 seconds ensuring the ball is perfectly positioned just outside the designated corner segment, and puts all those hours of practice into action, by whipping the ball in a foot above the ground straight to the grateful defender on the near post.

It's still pretty annoying when you have absolutely no connection to the teams involved.

I have no great insight here, or even a suggestion as to what may be the solution to this glut of crapness. It's just an observation. Hopefully the world's finest will figure out how to lift this fiendish ball soon enough.

3/ Vuvuzela

It's not a unique slice of footballing culture, it's an irritating drone. The only drone that's more annoying is from the people who go on about how it's nice to hear something different at football and how it's greatly preferable to drunken louts chanting obscenities for 90 minutes.

You're wrong and clearly should never be allowed to attend football matches again.

You can't get any sense of atmosphere due to the incessant buzz of the horns of doom, and one of the purest joys of watching football, the collective singing of fans, has been drowned out.

"But it's part of the South African culture!" You may cry. Well, tough. Crowd violence and Chris Kamara are both part of ours but we don't inflict them on the rest of the world............. any more.

Thankfully, the drone has seemingly lessened as the tournament has progressed, partly due to the decline in interest once South Africa got knocked out, and also partly because it would appear the BBC and ITV have figured out some way to lower the din in their mix.

Eventually we all got grudgingly used to the noise I suppose, and it didn't by any means ruin the tournament. That being said, it sure as hell didn't make it any better either.

If you bring one to an English football match next season, you should be tarred and feathered and banned for life. Though I fear if you blow it in the wrong bloke's ear, you may be subject to a slice of our home grown footballing culture and require a Vuvuzela-ectomy after the game. Unbelievable Jeff.

4/ ITV and The BBC

A friend of mine recently wrote in to ITV, covering his feelings towards their standard of commentary during the World Cup so far.

http://leathersphere.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-letter-of-complaint-to-itv.html

This sums up my general feeling perfectly. ITV's commentary has regularly been shockingly bad during this tournament. Peter Drury and Clive Tyldesley seem to be competing for who can make the most cringe worthy and irrelevant comment.

There grating partners in crime, Messrs Townsend, Burly and *shudder* Beglin, aren't much better. I've heard more informative insight into football from my own mother. Somebody has clearly told Townsend at some point that he is a footballing expert, as every time he once again succeeds in stating the bleeding obvious, he does so in that smug satisfied manner of his. He really believes he's doling out choice cuts of knowledge that we should all take on board and spend a few minutes digesting. He is most definitely wrong. Burley meanwhile just seems constantly aggrieved, at everything. As for Jim Beglin, well, Beglin is just Beglin. How this man ever got a job as a football commentator is beyond me. What's even more shocking though is how someone who played football professionally can have such a poor grasp on the game and it's rules.

Chiles does an OK job of keeping up the banter back in the studio, but he's lumbered with a fairly dour set of comrades. He's got Edgar Davids, who is fairly astute in his observations but has all the charisma of a soggy lettuce. Patrick Vieira who is the same, but without the astute observations. Marcel Desailly who's trying to pull a full on Townsend [To Townsend: To play for one county and then seemingly associate yourself with another when they start doing well] and convince us he's suddenly Ghanaian. You made your French bed Marcel, there's no going back now. Then there's Kevin Keegan, who's never been known for his tactical know-how and is surely only one bad England game away from quitting the ITV studio out of principle. Gareth Southgate is the most bearable of the bunch, and even he is over shadowed by his frankly maverick selection of garish pink shirts.

The BBC fairs far better, with the holy trinity of Shearer, Hansen and Lineker masterfully controlling things back at HQ. Somehow their insights are just far more interesting and informative than their ITV contemporaries, and even their subs bench packs a far greater punch.

Lee Dixon is slowly coming of age, and they even have the better ex-Dutch midfielder in the effortlessly smooth Clarence Seedorf. Roy Hodgson speaks the most sense any pundit has ever spoken ever. Even Gabby Logan's incessant flirting with Fabio is bearable in moderation.

The commentators themselves are a decent enough bunch, Guy Mowbray and Jonathan Pearce lead the charge, replacing the old guard of Barry Davies and Motty with great ease and luckily Pearce has curbed the excitable tendencies of his fledgling early FIVE days. Lawro is as strangely entertaining as ever, and Mark Bright is always pleasant enough to listen to, especially when he completely misses an incident and then has to retract his comment seconds later after seeing the replay. This happens at least once a game. "I think the goalie got a touch there didn't he Guy? That should be a corner. ..........Oh, no, the Ref was spot on, my mistake." Bless him.

The beeb has only two drawbacks for me. One is the inclusion of Emmanuel Adebayor, who's dwindling presence in the BBC HQ is I hope down to the slow realisation by BBC chiefs that not only does he speak unfeasibly fast, but he doesn't really say anything of any great note when you can make it out.

The main blot on their copybook however comes in the gruff, no-nonsense form of Mick McCarthy. Now, up until this tournament I'd not minded big Mick. He calls a spade a spade (and not in a Ron Atkinson type way), and is on occasion refreshingly honest. Yet, some of my friends could not stand the man, and when his name was announced as the commentator for one of the early games, they both groaned in unison. I offered a weak argument in Mick's favour, and we sat back to watch the game. After half an hour at most, I was completely won round to their side.

How had I been so blind before. What a right royal pain in the arse he is. Unrelentingly downbeat and negative. I swear if he'd have been commentating on Maradona's glorious goal in the 1986 World Cup, he'd of let out an exacerbated sigh and muttered "truth be told he's showboating a little there, and that is truly terrible defending." Owen's solo effort against the Argies in 1998, "It's about time the lad did something." And Bank's save from Pele, "At the end of the day he should be saving that. One for the camera's there." The man has made being unrelentingly unimpressed an art form. Also, he doesn't seem to understand that just because he tells it like it is, doesn't make 'it' true. Every dour observation he makes is insisted with a misguided severity, while any argument to the otherwise is viewed as mere naivety. Oh, and to top it all off he's the Wolves manager too. Shut up Mick.

So, the BBC wins the battle of the terrestrial pundits, with some ease. I still long for the friendly warmth of Jeff and the gang though. Oh imagine the fun they'd have....

5/ Lucio

You're 6 ft 2 and built like a brick shit house, get up.

Next up....England, where did it all go wrong.

Part 2: 1998-2002 - "Kevin, do you back him to score? Yes or no?”

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Wed, 26 May 2010 13:05:00 +0000

France '98

Two years on from the disappointment of Euro '96, the country was once again all fired up and full of blind optimism as the World Cup began in nearby France.

Back then if course, Shearer was still scoring for fun, Scotland still qualified for major tournaments, fat Ronaldo was just Ronaldo, and England's football hooligans expressed their dislike for European patio furniture the only way they knew how.

For England, it was a chance to shake off the demons of '96 and we went to France as one of the favourites to win. A seemingly easy group consisting of Tunisia, Columbia and Romania was the first hurdle we needed to get over though, a it was a task that proved easier said than done.

The tournament as a whole was of great convenience to English fans. Those of us watching at home missed few games as the French very nicely scheduled games for 2pm, 5:30pm, and 9pm (take note Yanks, that's how you schedule a major tournament), to minimise the number of matches lost to such minor obstacles as 'work'.

Likewise, those English fans who decided to travel to the tournament faced a short trip over the channel, and before they knew it they were in the French sunshine, drinking cheap lager and fighting with the locals. *Sniff*, Henry V would have been proud.

England's tournament began in sunny Marseille against Tunisia. Shearer gave us a first half lead, and then Scholes capped off the win with a second goal a few minutes from time. Glen Hoddle's team looked far from confident, but had got the required result nonetheless.

Word quickly got round our school that we had won 2-0 and once again, the dream was back on. Here we go again, this time we'll get it right. 13 year old me momentarily forgot the '96 incident and allowed my hopes to rise once again. This time, the Germans wouldn't deny us a shot at glory. And I was right.....the Germans wouldn't.

The next group game saw us take on Romania in Toulouse. A game we couldn't afford TO-LOSE. (Tee-Hee, with punsmanship like that a job at the Mirror can't be far off!). After going a goal behind late in the first half, we got a goal back in the second thanks to a bright young spark called Michael Owen, who, statistics show me was 18 at the time, but unless my memory fails me I'm fairly sure he was about 12. Unfortunately, despite Owen's big impact, Romania grabbed a late winner and sealed a demoralising and unexpected defeat for Glen Hoddle's side.

The final group game saw us take on Columbia in a game that would effectively decide who joined Romania in the next round. England dominated the game and a screamer from Darren Anderton and a clinical free kick from David Beckham sealed our passage into the next round. Unfortunately, due to Romania drawing with Tunisia, they finished in top spot and we had to make do with second. That meant we faced the winner of Group H, which was an as yet unbeaten Argentina.

The tournament so far was certainly not quite as memorable as the Euro tournament that preceded it. Uninspiring performances against average opposition was hardly setting the pulses racing. This would all change with the Argentina clash however as the match provided more than enough drama to make up for the dreary tournament so far.

It was a daunting match that suddenly looked all the more daunting when Argentina took the lead through a Batistuta penalty after only six minutes. Luckily for heart-rates across England, Shearer managed to equalise from the spot for England four minutes later after Michael Owen was savagely fouled and in no way made the most of any challenge.

After his dramatic impact against Romania in the group stage, young 'next big thing' Michael Owen was already a crowd favourite going into the Argentina game. After 16 minutes he cemented this position further with a stunning solo strike against one of the strongest defences in the competition.

The nippy forward (Not quite so nippy now of course. If players lose 'that half a yard' every time they get an injury, Owen must have lost a couple of miles by now), was played in near the half way line by Beckham where he turned on the ball and hurtled at breakneck speed towards the Argentinian goal. Leaving two defenders in his wake and deftly ignoring the oncoming Paul Scholes, he then finished coolly from the edge of the area. Not bad for a 12 year old.

It was a goal worthy of winning any match, and once that hit the back of the net, England's fans had a new national hope to replace the ageing Shearer, but more crucially, were ahead in the tie for the first time.

Unfortunately however, Argentina chose to ignore the 'goal-worthiness factor' and soon leveled from a well worked free kick. It was the type of free kick you always think should be scored more often. So simple and effective, the attacker peeling off the wall at the last minute to receive a weighted pass, leaving the entire defensive wall wrong footed and then curling the ball into the far corner. Yet when my team try anything like this, it usually results in the ball being passed way too early and trickling harmlessly out of play, leaving four or five confused players staring at each other with arms outstretched trying to figure out where they went wrong. "We've been working on that one all week" some comedian will usually note in the crowd.

The free kick was the last real action of the half and the teams went in at the break all square.
Early in the second half however, came the turning point of the match. After a typically combative challenge on Beckham from the Argentinian Robbie Savage (sort of) Diego Simeone, the English midfielder was face down on the turf and nursing his wounds, when from nowhere he flicked out a boot and clipped Simeone on the leg.

I'm sure if Becks good go back in time and do anything differently in his career, bar a few questionable haircut's and wife-related fashion disasters, this one petulant kick out would be the thing he changed.

Upon watching the replay, I think even the mot pig-headed and unflinchingly biased England fan grudgingly muttered to themselves, "he's gotta go for that". In reality, we all know it wasn't that vicious a crime, Simeone rolled about a bit for dramatic affect of course, but the kick was hardly a full throttle assault. It was a flimsy flick out. In international football however, we all know the rules, and Beckham himself would have been all too aware that if you kick, punch, slap, bite, pinch or excessively tickle an opponent, you're going to get sent off.

The Argentinian players, little darlings that they are, spent a good minute or so speed walking towards the referee, making sure he realised the true enormity of the situation. I mean, what could they have been saying at this point? "Ref!!! he kicked him, he kicked him, oh the humanity, will he even walk again? He had a wife and kid at home! His leg was only 2 days away from retirement! HE KICKED HIM. OH GOD HE KICKED HIM!!!!!"

Inevitably, the Danish official booked Simeone for the original foul and then reached into the back pocket of doom and pulled out the red. Beckham was off and England were down to ten men.

The proverbial salt being rubbed into the wound was offered by Argentinian legend Gabriel Batistuta, who, as Beckham trudged despairingly away from the field, nodded approvingly at the ref's decision. Oh the smugness. So much smugness. Few faces have exuded such smackability in their time. It's right up there in the 'smarmy smug smackable Face' stakes with Piers Morgan and Michael Portillo. In his head, was he thinking "What a good decision. Well done referee. I cannot agree strongly enough with this decision. It's a good day, a good day to be alive". Or, was he just being a smug tw*t who was all too aware the TV cameras were on him at the time. Methinks it was the latter.

So, England were down to ten men. The tabloid journalists finished their maniacal cackling and gleeful hand rubbing (probably), and went straight to work on making sure the whole country knew Becks was to blame. One headline that sticks in the mind was "Ten Heroic Lions, One Stupid Boy". This was he start of a tough year or so for the boy wonder as few rival fans let him forget that he was being held responsible for the unfavourable outcome of this game.

Yours truly must admit that he was part of the Beckham-blaming brigade in the emotional aftermath of the World Cup, and even with the use of hindsight, it's hard to not lay the blame for this loss largely at his feet. He made a mistake however, and perhaps, 12 years on, we have all long let it be, THAT last gasp free kick against Greece saw him atone for his sins in many eyes. (There's a theme emerging here I sense of players making up for their mistakes and reclaiming the fan's love. Whenever you're ready Mr Southgate.) Back in 1998 however, he was public enemy number one.

Meanwhile, back in St Etienne, Hoddle's ten men battled on bravely. We now faced almost the entirety of the second half with a man down, a daunting task against any team, let alone one of the best in the world.

We held on resolutely, and the defence repelled all that Argentina could throw at them. There was still time for the match officials to break English hearts before the match went into extra time however. With nine minutes to go, Darren Anderton floated in a superb corner and Sol Campbell met it full on sending a bullet header into the Argentine net.

If you have chance, go on YouTube and watch the highlights of this game. When you get to this incident, there's a moment after Sol's fired the header in, when he's wheeling away to celebrate with the the rest of the English bench on the touchline, when both he, and the rest of the squad, are all ecstatically celebrating this unexpected goal. Savour that moment. This was almost the Roy of the Rovers special. A Jimmy Glass-esque moment of magic.

The ten men, against the odds, had scored a late winner (well, 81 minutes is late-ish), with the scorer himself finding the net for the first time in his international career. Freeze that moment in time and think about how good it could have been. Imagine the mental you could have had. Then, unclick pause, and rejoin reality.

The Danish ref had seen an infringement and ruled out the goal. Multiple replays showed Alan Shearer jumping with eyes fixed on the ball, and the out-rushing keeper running into him and flailing wildly. The ref saw this as a foul and ruled it out. Across England, hopes were dashed, celebrations were halted mid-jump and hands were clasped to disbelieving heads.

I watched this game at home with my parents, with it being a school night and me being only 13 at the time, the late evening kick off gave few other options. I remember the celebrations when Michael Owen scored. I remember the expletives hurled at both the ref and Mr Beckham when he got sent off, but what I remember most of all was the sense of disbelief I had when the goal was disallowed. I remember genuinely believing this wasn't fair. How could it be disallowed after we worked so hard?

I turned to Keeling senior for an explanation of some sorts. Why has this happened? Is this really allowed to happen? With a slow shake of the head, my dad gave me a look that as a Stoke fan, I have come to recognise from him all to often since this date. It was a look that said "life's a shithouse son, and usually football makes you nothing but miserable. Get used to it." The rest of the game was watched in silence.

England held on through extra time and managed to force the game into penalties. Now, we all had our skins thickened by the Euro 96 heartbreak, and I'm sure we all vowed we'd never let our guards down again, but back in 1998, we all clung once again to the belief that this time, the penalty gods would be on our side.

It even began to look up for England at one point as after both teams had converted their opening penalties, Crespo missed the Argentinians second. Could it be? Could another footballing nation be as woeful at penalties as us? Luckily, Paul Ince was on hand to resume business as usual and make sure no one back in England got their hopes up too much, as he stepped up and saw his penalty saved by the Argentinian stopper Roa. Ahhh, our old friend that sinking feeling, you return to visit us once again.

The next few takers all converted to make the score 4-3 to Argentina and leave England needing to score their last penalty to take the game to sudden death.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man, and up stepped midfield enforcer David Batty. Many people still puzzle over why Batty was chosen to take a penalty, but when you consider Beck's had been sent off and the other four forwards or midfielder on the pitch had now taken a penalty, we weren't really left with much choice. Would we rather have had Southgate step up again, or maybe Tony Adams? It is fair to say however, that Batty was certainly not known for his striking prowess, and in fact he had never taken a penalty in a competitive game before this day. He did not strike you as a confident man as he shuffled hesitantly towards the penalty spot.

As Batty began his laboured run up, Commentator Brian Moore, grasping desperately for words that will echo down the ages, (after all, every commentator secretly yearns for their "They think it's all over" moment) turns to co-commentator Kevin Keegan and asks him "Kevin, do you back him to score? Yes or no?”

Ever reliable Kev fired back an emphatic "Yes."

Never before has one man’s prediction proved so wrong and simultaneously so aggravating. From this point onwards the saying "don't count your eggs before they are hatched" should be changed to "don't count your penalties before they've bulged the net...........KEVIN."

Batty's penalty was hit far too central and the keeper made an easy save. With that, England were out of the World Cup.

I should say at this point, I never actually saw Batty's penalty in real time. I only knew we were out of the World Cup thanks to Keegan's groan and my parent's frustrated sighs. The fact is, I couldn't watch Batty's penalty. It had all proven too much for me. I went and sat on the stairs, head in hands and listened for the eventual outcome. In the end, the silence was deafening.

Our front room sat in pained silence as the various replays merely added to the sense of disappointment. It really felt like we'd been unfairly treated somehow. A combination of the sending off, the distinct lack of Argentinian sportsmanship, the disallowed goal and the unavoidable harshness of penalties in general.

Luckily for Batty and Ince, unlike the likes of Waddle, Pearce and Southgate before them, their penalty misses would not render them scapegoats for England's exit. Thanks to Beckham and his petulance, the blame was deflected away on to his young shoulders.

Pain Rating - 9/10

Euro 2000

The next tournament was far less disappointing for England and it's fans. It was too crap to be disappointing. Now under the expert tutelage of Kevin 'Penalty Nostradamus' Keegan came the woeful Euro 2000 in Belgium and Holland.

We found ourselves in the proverbial 'group of death', alongside Portugal, Romania and Germany. Despite this tough group, progression to the next round was still the bare minimum of expectations.

We started off with a poor result against Portugal as we clutched defeat from the jaws of victory and threw away a two goal lead to lose 3-2. Then came the tournament's bright spot as we beat an aging Germany side 1-0. At the time this was pretty enjoyable, as any victory over the old enemy is bound to be. There was certainly some hope this would kick start our campaign and see us charge on to victory. Unfortunately, this message didn't filter through to the players.

Our last game against Romania was meant to be our easiest but unfortunately even they proved too much for the lacklustre England side. With the game at 2-2, and Romania piling on pressure, the time was right for someone to step up and become the national scapegoat. There has to be one after all. Enter Mr Philip Neville. A lazy lunge on a Romanian attacker in the 89th minute, gave the ref no choice but to award a penalty. The Romanian's slotted their penalty away and with it secured second place in the group. Amazingly though, despite this costly error and the endless barracking that comes with it, Phil Neville was still infinitely more popular than his brother.

Pain rating - 5/10

After a dismal start to the qualification campaign for the next World Cup, including the 1-0 loss to Germany in the last game at the old Wembley, Keegan quit as England coach and was replaced by the Swede Sven-Goran Eriksson.

Sven may not have been the most popular choice for England manager, indeed many experts failed to comprehend how a non-Englishman could possibly succeed as England manager. "Johnny Foreigner in charge of our brave boys! My god, it's enough to make you spit out your tea and drop your crumpet."

"He won't understand the British game!'"They said. "He won't know what it means to be British!" They cried. However, eventually he cheated on his missus with Ulrika Jonsson and was then caught shagging his secretary as well for good measure. Infidelity and tabloid sex scandals... and they were worried he wouldn't fit into the English game!

It was under Sven that we went to Munich in 2001 in need of a win to stay in with a chance of winning our qualification group. That magical evening will go down in history as one of the all time great English victories. A devastating 5-1 romp was wildly celebrated back in England and it was a joy to behold as big Emile, yes even big Emile got in on the action, smacked the 5th goal home. England were hitting form at just the right time and went on to win the group.

Next stop was South Korea and Japan!

Part 1: 1990-1996 - When football came home....kind of.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Thu, 20 May 2010 11:59:00 +0000

Close calls, disallowed goals, questionable red cards and missed penalties. For the past two decades, watching England at a major tournament has been anything but boring and nearly always provides gripping drama.

Unfortunately, far too often, it's that thoroughly depressing type of drama where there's no happy ending and little but pain and dejection along the way. Much more Requiem for a Dream than It's a Wonderful Life.

In the final act, our brave heroes don't triumph against adversity and leave us all with hearts warmed and spirits raised. Rather it usually sees our brave heroes miss from twelve yards and leaves us all thoroughly p*ssed off for the rest of summer.

Yet every time England make it through to the finals of a major tournament, the country shuts down regular service, domestic animosities are set aside and we dare to dream once again. Like the gluttons for punishment we truly are.

Before the World Cup in South Africa gets under way, I thought I'd look back at my own experiences watching England's past failures, and try to establish which exits really hurt the most.

World Cup Italia '90.

I was only a wee lad when the Italian World Cup took place, but I can still vaguely remember the buzz around the country at the time. After the disappointing 1980's, this was the strongest England team we'd had in a while with Messrs Butcher, Pearce, Robson, Waddle, Barnes, Beardsley, Linekar and of course Gascoigne, all at the peak of their game.

This was the tournament of Nessun Dorma, the Milla wiggle, Salvatore Schillaci, and hardly any goals. Indeed Wikipedia reliably informs me that Italia 90 generated a record low goals-per-game average for a World Cup (a treat for all you fact fans out there.)

Following an uninspiring group stage, England faced Belgium the last 16 and needed a dramatic winner in the last minute of extra time from David Platt to see us through. Then, after going behind to Cameroon in the Quarter Finals, two Gary Linekar penalties saw us stumble into the semi-finals against the much fancied West Germany.

It was this semi-final against West Germany that has been forever etched on the conscious of English fans. While I may have only flitting memories of this tournament, the scenes from this infamous game are repeated so regularly, that it really does seem like only yesterday.

The Germans hit first as Brehme's free kick took a wicked deflection and looped in off Paul Parker to give the Germans the lead. Luckily, the clinical Linekar smacked home from close range (obviously) with ten minutes to go to take the tie to extra time.

In the 99th minute, in what was to become one of the most inconic images of the World Cup, Gazza over ran a ball on one of his forays forward and foolishly lunged in aggressively on a German player. As soon as the ref blew for the foul, Gazza was already pleading his innocence and begging the official not to show a card, knowing full well this would rule him out of the final. Unfortunately for him, the referee didn't change his mind (take note Ricardo Carvalho, they NEVER change their mind, no matter how innocent you look) and the distraught Gascoigne, unable to hide his emotions, let out some of the most famous tears in TV history.

Now, when England games go to extra time these days, that's taken as our cue to begin accepting defeat. Back in 1990 however, there was no such hoodoo hanging over us. As crazy as it sounds, we had every chance of actually winning this shoot out.

Unfortunately, with the score at 3-3, Stuart Pearce missed his penalty. That sinking feeling began to be felt across the country. Then, after the Germans successfully converted their fourth, Chris Waddle stepped up, needing to score to keep England in the tie. In what could quite possible be the most re-watched penalty miss of all time, the mulleted winger missed his spot kick. Maybe 'missed' is not quite an accurate description here. 'Twatted it hopelessly over the bar', is perhaps more fitting.

And with that, the nation had received its first real taste of penalty heartache. How little we knew what was still to come. Italia 90 was perhaps a little too early to hit me really hard. Being only 5 at the time, I imagine I recovered fairly quickly from the disappointment, in fact it was probably as soon as fish fingers and alphabites were announced for tea.

The impact this game had on the national psyche though can never be underestimated. This was our best chance to win the trophy in years, and to go out in such an agonising way to the old enemy, was a truly bitter pill to swallow.

Pain rating: 8/10

Euro '96

Much like the England team itself, I won't bother with the forgetful Euro '92 tournament and in fact Graham Taylor's reign in general.

World Cup 1994 in the USA I do have fond memories of though, as this was the first major tournament I can remember watching avidly. Despite England's lack of qualification, the scorching temperatures and the crap TV viewing times (how selfish of the Yanks not revolve it around English viewers), it produced some memorable games, and also ensured I would forever remember the names of Oleg Salenko, Martin Dahlin and Yordan Letchkov (what a header).

Returning to our focus of great English failures however, we must now tackle the summit that was Euro 96. A competition it is now impossible to reminisce about and not start humming 'Three Lions' in your head.

Football was coming home, and after 6 years of dross under Graham Taylor, England went into the tournament not only as hosts, but as one of the favourites in their own right. Gazza had rekindled his career, Adams and Pearce were commanding the defence, Ince was commanding the midfield, and Shearer and Sheringham were scoring for fun.

The country usually slows down quite noticeably when major football tournaments are on and reverts to the same casual approach to work that we tend to adopt in the week running up to Christmas.

This time however, it went one step further. It was a strange joy to behold as the whole country ground to a halt for the summer and you could barely turn on a TV without football being mentioned in some way. Thinking back, this must have been quite annoying for someone who dislikes football, but then again........f*ck em.

I turned 11 the day before this tournament started, and for me this was the first one where I was really involved and fully understood what I saw before me. As an 11 year old, there were few things, if any, that meant more to me than football. I played for a team, I was already a season ticket holder at Stoke, I watched football Italia every week (god it was mostly shite wasn't it?), in other words, football was my life.

It was also the summer at the very end of my primary school years and I remember being incredibly nervous about it all ending and making the move up to 'big' school. For me and my mates, all aged 11, this tournament seemed like literally the greatest thing to ever happen to us and we got fully swept up in Euro's fever. We watched all the build up, had the sticker albums and brought the Three Lions single, nothing could ruin this perfect summer............Oh the naivety of youth.

Everything started out well enough, after a ropey draw against the Swiss, we faced the Scots at Wembley in a truly memorable encounter. Shearer was unstoppable in this tournament and he scored for the second game running in emphatic fashion. The highlight of the match though was THAT goal by Gazza. He'd had a mixed time of it since Italy in 1990, breaking his leg in a Cup final, struggling to make an impact with Lazio in Italy and then rekindling his career, ironically in Scotland with Rangers.

The Geordie genius, as no-one calls him, was on fire in this game, and everyone who watched will remember his goal with HD like clarity. Running down the left hand channel, deftly flicking the ball over Colin Hendry's head, leaving the burly Scotman flat on his arse in the process, before rifling the ball into the back of the net. Then of course he debuted the now legendary 'Dentist Chair' celebration to the world.

I wager few goals have been emulated, or at least prompted so many attempts at emulation, as this one. To this day, it is physically impossible to chip the ball over a defenders head and then not try and twat it low and hard into the goal afterwards. Our neighbours back at my parents house can attest to this fact as I spent many afternoons that summer chipping imaginary defenders in our back garden, only to forget the 'hard and low' aspect of the finish and send yet another ball flying into their garden. Now I'm not saying Gazza invented this combo, but rarely before has a goal struck such a chord with the public.

In any other tournament, this game would be England's highlight, but there was still so much to come.

Our final group game was, in theory, a difficult encounter with the Dutch. It turned out however that we needn't have worried as what followed was one of the greatest victories in England's Euro history.

I remember that when this game was on, we were on a camping trip with school. Seeing the enormity of the encounter however, they wisely set up a TV for us to watch the game on. Without getting too 'Stand by me' about it all, it was kind of special watching the game with all my school friends, especially seen as very soon we'd all go off to different schools and in reality not really see each other that much again. Naturally we were all obsessed with football, and since we hadn't yet discovered alcohol and girls were still just annoyances, playing football for hours on end was all we really wanted to do.

This was meant to be our most difficult group game, but Terry Venabals's England tore the Dutch apart, and the lethal striking partnership of Shearer and Sheringham claimed a brace each to see the game finish 4-1.

The TV room at school camp erupted at the final whistle and we all celebrated the only way we knew how at that age, by running back outside onto the nearby pitches and playing football for another 4 or 5 hours. Halcyon days. Next up was Spain in the quarter finals.

The sighting of Hally's Comet, an away team getting a penalty at Old Trafford, Arsene Wenger witnessing a late Arsenal tackle, there are some events that are so rare, so unexpected and even unnatural, that when they do happen, the whole world sits up and takes notice. On the 22nd June, 1996, a natural phenomena such as this took place. It took everyone by surprise, and many weren't fully prepared for it, but somehow, someway, England won a penalty shoot out.

Technically, back then, in the heady days of the mid nineties, there wasn't the historic track record of spot kick failure that England has now. At the time of the game against Spain, the disappointment of Italia 90 was the only major penalty related disaster to have hit mainland UK to date. With the benefit of hindsight however, we are able to truly see how rare and beautiful this event was.

The match itself was actually really forgettable, finsishing 0-0 after extra time. Few who watched the game however will forget the strange sense of amazed relief that hit when David Seaman made that save from Nadal to clinch victory in the resultant penalty shoot-out. In addition few of us will forget that bloody awful garish kit he had on.

The other enduring image from this game was undoubtedly Stuart Pearce's thunderous penalty. In all honesty, I bet a large percentage of the viewing public were far from confident at seeing Psycho step up to take our third penalty. Thoughts raced back to Turin six years ago, when the passionate defender failed to convert his spot kick and was left a broken man in the centre circle as the Germans snatched victory.

Six years on though, showing immense character and bravery, Pearce demanded to take a penalty, stepped up and finally laid those demons to rest. As he smacked his penalty home, and boy did he SMACK it home, you could see what a huge weight this was lifted off his shoulders after so long. His clenched fist celebration, complete with a guttural roar towards the England fans, was a truly inspiring moment to behold.

And so, we come to the semi-final. Even as I begin typing it, a slightly sick feeling forms in my gut, and my bottom lip quivers a little bit. Forcing yourself to relive this game is like forcing yourself to watch a harrowing war film. You know it's not going to be pleasant, you know it's laced with nothing but pain and misery, but it needs to be watched so you can learn from previous mistakes and besides, if nothing else, it builds character.

So there we were, 6 years on from the disappointment in Turin, once again facing the Germans in a semi-final. This time though, we were on home turf and the vociferous crowd at Wembley would surely give us that little bit extra. *sigh*.

I watched this game at one of my friend's houses and there were 4 or 5 of us there, all about 11 years old, too young to have fully felt the heartbreak of Italy 6 years previously. This was our biggest game ever, never before had a football game taken on such profound meaning. We'd spent all summer watching, playing and talking about football, and now we'd gathered together to watch England beat the old enemy.

We were well on our way after only 3 minutes with Shearer scored yet again with a bullett header to power us into the lead. About 15 minutes later however, Kuntz (insert your own joke here) grabbed an equaliser for the Germans.

The rest of the game was fairly evenly poised as I remember, but with neither team finding that elusive winning goal. Perhaps the enduring memory I have from this game however, came deep into extra time. After several near misses, and surviving a disallowed German goal (this was the tournament of the golden goal remember, one goal in extra time was all it took), England spread the ball out wide (I forget who provided the cross, possibly Darren Anderton), and there was Gazza steaming into the box to finish off the move.

Re-watching this clip now, as the balls trickles along the face of the goal, with the German keeper stranded out of position and their defenders trailing helplessly behind, you can pause it at any point and you will swear blind Gazza will make that ball.

He is motoring into the six yard box, the goal is there at his mercy. All he has to do is get a touch, and the ball is flying into the net.

Back in 1996, at my friend's house, we were all preparing to celebrate, fists were already clenched, bodies shifted to the edge of the sofa for maximum celebratory lift, and breaths collectively inhaled.

Somehow though, in a cruel twist of fate, the ball eluded the stretching Gascoigne, and continued it's harmless path across the face of goal. Multiple replays appeared to show the ball bobble just over the tip of Gazza's boot. If his shoes were one-size bigger, the whole story could have been different.

If ever a film needs to use a sound effect to demonstrate the sound of 75000 people conveying utter disbelief and despair, they need look no further than the footage from this game.

Across the country, heads plunged into hands, and whole new swear words were invented and blasted towards the TV.

Every time I re-watch the clip, a little bit of me still hopes it will turn out different, but there is poor old Gazza, so nearly the nation's hero, so nearly the one to bring football home, millimeters away from glory, agonisingly failing to convert the golden chance.

Extra-time came to a close, and it was time for the dreaded penalties.

Both sides were looking strong and scored their first 5 penalties. Then, a nervous looking Gareth Southgate stepped up to take England's 6th spot kick, and the rest is, as they say, history.

It was limp penalty, put far too close to the keeper who easily saved. Germany slammed their 6th one in, and were into the final. Southgate became the national figure of ire and would forever be associated with that miss. Much like Waddle before him, he was seen as the one who cost us a place in the final. Maybe they both did take fairly crap penalties, but they had the nerve to step up and take one, and I doubt most of us could have done much better with that vast amount of pressure heaped upon us.

At the time though, it was like the end of the world. As mere young whippersnappers, me and my friends had never really considered we would lose, this was our first real taste of following England and we'd only really heard stories of Italia 90. It wouldn't happen again, not to us.

Alas though, history has an unfortunate knack for repeating itself.

This was real disappointment. Proper; hang your head and don't speak for hours disappointment. It wasn't some minor disappointment, like when you realise it's a Lisa based Simpson's episode or that DVD shaped present you open at Christmas is actually a book. No, this was the real deal.

As the BBC team finished their coverage for the night, they singed off with a mournful montage, complete with Brit Pop also-rands Cast's melancholy ode to admitting defeat 'Walk Away' playing over the footage. Somewhere, in deepest darkest Staffordshire, four heartbroken 11 year olds sat in silence.

From this point on, I was fully braced for defeat at every major tournament. The optimism and hope of youth had been extinguished by Gazza's small feet, and Southgate's weak kick. From now on, I approached every game as one there for us to lose, and every penalty shoot out as a lost cause. As you can tell, watching football with me is a right barrel of laughs.

Pain rating: 10/10.

Next up: Part 2: 1998-2002 - Yeeeeeesss big Sol has scored!!!! Wait a minute, what's the Ref blowing for?

Here we go again.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Thu, 20 May 2010 11:28:00 +0000

As the 2010 World Cup looms ever closer on the horizon and the nation once again gets uncharacteristically hopeful and dangerously patriotic, memories of tournaments past come flooding back to football fans across the country.

The hustle and bustle of the domestic season has all but ended, and club loyalties are due to be put aside for a summer spent in front of the TV, yelling mildly xenophobic comments at referees and likewise extremely offensive comments at ITV commentators.

For many of us, there is never quite the same passion that there is with your own team, and as a result following the national team in a major tournament feels a lot like a summer time fling with a fancy continental mistress away from the trusty housewife that is the English league.

Yet despite starting off sceptical, and telling yourself yet again that you won't get your hopes up this time, once the tournament is under way and life begins revolving around the World Cup once again, you can't help but get caught up in the drama.

After months spent resolutely sticking by your team and booing and heckling anyone who pulls on the shirt of another club, it feels strange now throwing your hat in with these scoundrels and doing something as outlandish as willing Steven Gerrard to do well.

Suddenly you're cheering on Wayne Rooney, talking up the abilities of Frank Lampard, Ashley Cole seems somehow less annoying, and even John Terry seems.......no, no he's still a fairly cretinous human being. However, if big John scores a bullet header to put us through to the next round, I'll sing his name as loudly as the next man.

So it goes every time we qualify for a major tournament. The last month or so of the domestic season is spent endlessly hoping the big name players stay clear of injuries for as we all now know, metatarsals get notoriously weak around this time of year. As the German national team can attest this time around, it can be a major blow to lose a big name player this close to the tournament, and as Wayne took to the field against my beloved Stoke, even I was praying that Andy Wilkinson could avoid tackling him too enthusiastically for the next 90 minutes.

For the few weeks leading up to the tournament, every self-styled expert across the country begins to formulate their own squad that Fabio should take to South Africa. The pro's and con's of Emile Heskey's game and his ability to 'create' goals gets analysed like never before. Steven Gerrard's best position gets scrutinised with even greater ferocity, and everyone hopes this is the tournament when Frank shows what he can do on the biggest stage of all.

Meanwhile, there are tell tale signs in every English town and city that a major tournament is on it's way. St George's crosses appear wherever you turn and motorists in particular decide that adorning their car's with as many flags as possible is the best way to show their national pride. The rest of the public of course see it as merely the best way to show you are a twat.

Seemingly every advert on TV involves football or footballers, ranging from the heartwarming (Sony Bravia and the fat kid scoring a goal. Gawd bless ya son), to the strangely inspiring (that Carlsberg add should be really annoying, but I have grown strangely attached to it now, despite Phil Taylor's baffling cameo), to the just plain crap (note to Pringles, Dirk Kuyt's face should not be used to sell anything).

The tabloids also increase their substantial zeal for gossip and intrigue surrounding the national team, as the gaping hole left by the end of the domestic season needs to be filled come what may. The red-top's shameless journos must be rubbing their hands together and waiting impatiently for a piece of scandalous news to emerge, much like baying Jackals following a hunt and eagerly waiting for a piece of carrion to be tossed their way. Someones got to cheat on someone sooner or later after all.

As the various pull-outs and wall charts increase in number and the important match dates get inked onto many a calender, the excitement begins to build.

This year, the squad is looking strong and with Wayne in top form, we have to be considered one of the tournament favourites. Football fans up and down the country are allowing themselves to dream of how they would celebrate if England do manage to lift the trophy. The mass sick day of Monday 12th July will be a wonderful thing to behold. Maybe, just maybe, they will go all the way this time. This could be our year.

Just, one thing, .........for the love of God, practice your penalty taking boys. We all know it's coming sooner or later.

A gruelling end to proceedings.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Fri, 07 May 2010 13:21:00 +0000

It first hit me at about 16:45 on the 17th April. The referee blew the final whistle and Stoke had somehow contrived to throw away a one goal lead and lose at home to Bolton in a game we should really have put to rest long ago. I stood up dejectedly, looked across at the grey sky above the grim incinerator smoke, then looked back at the glum faces of fellow supporters and then at the dejected players as they trudged slowly off towards the tunnel. What hit me was this simple thought, "Christ I wish the season would hurry up and end".

By the time I got back to the car and had, along with Keeling senior, fully deconstructed where we had gone wrong and what needs to be done for the next season, I had calmed down somewhat and accepted the loss as a partial blip in an otherwise successful season. I consoled myself with the knowledge that, despite the result, we were definitely guaranteed a second year of top flight football.

Then, the Chelsea away game happened.

This embarrassment was the straw that broke the camel's back, and alongside the disappointing loss to Bolton and the continuing stories of dressing room unrest, it saw a gloomy cloud forming over fortress Britannia. With Stoke limping towards the footballing finish line, I once again muttered to anyone within earshot, "Christ, I REALLY wish the season would hurry up and end".

Let me make my position clear however, I am by no means disappointed with our second season, and indeed since I first thought about this blog entry, we have gained a solid home draw with Everton and a cracking away win against Fulham. We have bettered our points tally from last season and have cemented ourselves as a solid mid-table Premiership side. This is of course no mean feat and Tony and the boys deserve any plaudits they receive.

It's just after witnessing these lacklustre results, and with various tales of unhappiness leaking out of our dressing room at a great rate of knots, it's just hard to muster up much enthusiasm for the remaining few games, especially when you know you're already safe and have essentially nothing to play for. The World Cup is beckoning and a summer of beer, barbeque's and bitter disappointment lies ahead. As the 7th Chelsea goal flew in, I couldn't help but wish for the drudgery of the season to end, and the summer to begin.

The disappointing loss to Bolton was made all the more excruciating by the comically easy chances we spurned. Tuncay hit the post after an inch perfect lay off, from only about 8 yards out. How he didn't hit the target I don't know. In the dieing moments, Faye also construed to miss an absolute sitter from merely yards out, which was really a chance harder to miss than to score.

It was the Chelsea game that really hurt though, in 3D. It was devastating in all three dimensions. It seemed a great idea at the time, get a few of the lads down to the pub to bask in the technological breakthrough of 3D football all the while seeing the potters bravely battle to upset a previously rampant Chelsea team.

Never again. That will teach me to venture out of the sanctity of my front room to watch Stoke away games that are on TV. It was like when your mum shows all your friends embarrassing pictures of you from when you are young. Suddenly they have an insight into your secret life and have seen a side of it you never wanted them to know. And to make matters worse, they are quite rightly laughing their tits off at you.

To lose 7-0 to a team in your own league, is inexcusable. End of. Unless you are woefully out of your depth, like Derby a few seasons ago, then you should be able to at least give any other team in your league a run for their money.

I'm the first the complain about the inequalities in football, but if anything, this season saw the gulf between the 'big 4' and the rest of the league decrease noticeably. Spurs broke into the hallowed Champions League places. Man City and Villa pushed them close, and all three finished above Liverpool. Whats more, the big teams all lost an unprecedented number of games, with Chelski losing 6 and United 7.

Stoke against Chelsea however were just shit. Pure unabashed, shit. We looked like a bunch of Year 7's playing an end of season special game against the big boys in Sixth form. I half expected Frank Lampard to steal Glen Whelan's dinner money at the end of the game.

Chelsea were just too fast and too strong for Stoke and by about the 80 minute mark it resembled something of a training ground game for them as every slick move resulted in a good chance on goal.

Tony Pulis did in fairness agree with my critical sentiments, if not in fact the exact wording, and made clear to the players that this performance was not good enough. For the fans however, it was a worrying eye opener as to our own frailties. More importantly however, it made me look even more longingly at the Match magazine 'Countdown to the World Cup' chart we have in our front room. We are all 25, going on 14 in our house.

On top of the problems on the pitch, it has also become quite clear that we may have one or two problems off it as well. Following on from the incident at the Emirates back in December when Tony Pulis may or may not (he did) have headbutted James Beattie in the dressing room, we have also seen a spate of players storming off down the tunnel after being substituted. I say spate, I'm not sure if two incidents constitutes a spate, but when it goes from 0 to 2 after years of 0, I think spate is a legitimate word to use.

Tuncay has done this a few times now, and on the last occasion against Bolton, it saw him receive a few boos from the Stoke faithful. Tony has partially forgiven Tunny however acknowledging that he is from a different culture and perhaps can't be held t the same standards as the homegrown lads.

Dave Kitson however, has certainly incurred the wrath of TP. He stormed off after being substituted in the Chelsea game, an act of mercy for which he should really of thanked Tone. It wasn't like Kitson was taking it to Chelski all on his own, peppering Cech's goal with shots and terrorising their defence with Messi-esque runs. He was barely reaching Gifton Noel-Williams levels of effectiveness. So quite why he spat at out his dummy when Tony pulled him off (chortle) is anybody's guess.

It's not the first time the ginger whinger (Am I the first to come up with that name? maybe I should pursue a career in headline writing for the tabloids) had caused a rumpus in the dressing room, and his relationship with the management was clearly strained as he was shipped out on loan to Middlesboro earlier in the campaign.

Upon his return however he was slowly earning the love of the Stoke faithful thanks to two factors. Firstly he put in a couple of good performances and even bagged a couple of goals. This is perhaps the norm for other club's strikers, but it's a considerable achievement for Stoke's.

Secondly 'Super Dave' benefited from the simple fact that he wasn't Mama Sidibe. The growing anger aimed towards the Malian Mauler (on second thoughts, best keep the tabloid career on hold for now), meant that big Dave was seen by many as the preferred partner for Riccy in Stoke's attack.

This new found adoration was soon over however as Kitson made the fatal mistake of publicly criticising the City regime in the press and even going as far as to label himself a scapegoat for all problems at Stoke. That was all Tone needed to hear and Dave hasn't featured for us again this season and almost definitely never will again.

It was also widely rumoured that either Dave, the forgotten man Beattie, or perhaps both of them, may have leaked another tale of dressing room strife to the press that occurred on our fateful trip to Stamford Bridge. Without boring you to much with the minor details of this slightly bizarre story, the general gist is that Glen Whelan questioned Abdoulaye Faye's commitment to the cause after the club captain appeared to be taking a half-hearted approach to a team warm up by doing it in his sandals. After escalated discussions, long story cut short,.......Faye lamped Glen one in the face.

Unfortunately the story somehow found it's way into the hands of the press, much to the dismay of Tony and both Abdy and Glen, who appeared to have shrugged off the story by the next week. It was the leak that upset the club more than the fiery argument, and the blame was squarely placed at the two disgruntled forwards feet. For a club that prides itself on its team spirit and us-against-them attitude, this is a most unwelcome distraction in the dressing room.

So, as proceedings draw to a close, and after witnessing a respectable but uninspiring scoreless draw against Everton at home, coupled with the poor home loss to Bolton, the atrocities of Chelsea and the unrest in the dressing room, my desire for the season to end is not I don't think entirely without merit.

This is not me being too expectant or having ideas above our station, far from it. I am more than happy with our final league position and our points tally in general and firmly believe this season can be counted as a success for the Potters as we cement our position as a Premier League team.

However after a long slog of a season with few memorable highlights like those which peppered our first season in the top flight, coupled with this gruelling ending, the summer break filled with World Cup excitement begins to look very enticing.

Mind you, as England crash out in the quarter finals once again on penalties, I'm sure my gaze will hungrily turn to the forthcoming fixture list and I'll begin to pine once again for the thrills and spills of the domestic season.

Unless we have Chelsea away first game.

The business end of the season.....

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 11:02:00 +0000

As the end of another season looms ever closer on the horizon, fans across the country are bracing themselves for a tense finish. Some teams find themselves locked in nail-biting tussles for European glory whilst others fight for mere survival. In the Premier League however, there are a select few, namely Birmingham, Sunderland, Blackburn and the mighty Potters, whose seasons are now as good as over, and all that's left to do is to take pleasure in denying other clubs, who do still have something to play for, a vital three points.

In the case of Stoke, we still have a big role to play in events at both ends of the table. In the relegation dog fight (see '101 favourite tabloid football phrases' alongside "business end of the season" and "threw themselves a life-line"), we still have to play Wolves at Molineux, with Mick's boys looking fairly safe primarily on the basis that at least two of the teams below them are even crapper than they are. We also have a home game against Bolton in which the Trotters will be going all out to pick up vital points.

With regards to the title race, we could potentially have an even bigger say as we still need to travel to both Chelsea and Manchester United. I say 'potentially' have a big say, the reality is both of these games will probably see our 'goals against' column take a bit of a battering. Our trip to Old Trafford on the last game of the season could be crucial to their title bid. It may be as they need a win, perhaps even by a certain amount of goals, in order to finish top. As if the ticket price wasn't reason enough to put you off going to this game, the thought of Rooney and co. going all out to bang in as many goals as they can should do the trick.

Up until these past two seasons, Stoke fans know all too well that nervy feeling that creeps up around mid march as the reality hits home that you really are running out of games to get the necessary points. Certain tell tale signs begin to remind you that time is running out. That crap team in one of the lower leagues who stormed their own division the season before but have been rock bottom of their current division since around mid September, already have a big embarrassing (R) next to their name in the table. TV pundits pour over upcoming fixtures and assess in minute detail who has 'the easiest run in'. The games themselves occur in nice pleasant sunshine (in theory), almost mocking you for the preceding 7 months of cloud and drizzle that have ruined your enjoyment of the bulk of the season. This upturn in weather also ensures that your long lost Baseball cap and forgotten replica shirt get dug out and given a few fleeting airings.

The mood at football matches changes drastically in this period, swinging from hopeful optimism to blind panic in the space of only a few matches. Stokies will remember several nervy play-off pushes and a sprinkling of relegation battles in recent memory, as well as the nerve shredding run in that accompanied our promotion season in 2008. I'm fairly sure the final 6 or 7 games of that campaign have each taken about a year off my life expectancy.

In many ways, this is the first uneventful end of season we've had in quite some time. Our safety was realistically assured several games ago, and as we sit in 10th spot with a good 15 points between us and the drop zone, we can already call this an impressive second season. With any luck, another win can be achieved and that 3 points will see us beat last seasons total. I'm sure all but the most fanciful of Stoke fans would have set this as their main goal when we started this campaign back in sunny August.

Since starting to write this entry, I've actually attended the aforementioned Wolves away game, and witnessed a tepid snore draw (another tabloid favourite there) that severely tested my footballing patience. Nevertheless, it was a decent away point, and we never looked in any great danger of losing the game. A few missed headers by Abdoulaye, a stinging long range effort from Glen Whelan and a customary missed sitter from Mama ('fantastic' in this game according to Tony, 'a waste of f*cking space' according to everyone who sat near me), was all the goalmouth action we managed to muster.

By about 70 minutes, the fiery atmosphere that would usually accompany this derby(-ish) game was all but gone, with the lacklustre game proving to be the answer to the local constabulary's prayers. When the final whistle went, Sunday roasts and an afternoon spent basking in the sun were already on supporters minds, as was the ridiculousness of starting a game at 12 noon on a Sunday.

Now i'm a footballing romantic in many ways. I ideally want all games to be at 3pm Saturday, or at 7:45 on a Tuesday or Wednesday. I accept the need for TV revenue grudgingly however, and so also accept the need for Saturday 1pm and 5:30pm games, and even a Sunday 4pm one (at a push). I'd rather there were no games on a Sunday, not for any religious reasons, purely because Saturday is football's day and should be kept accordingly. Midday on a Sunday however IS NO TIME FOR FOOTBALL.

Lounging on a sofa, pouring over the match reports from the day before, roasted meat aroma emanating from the kitchen and hangover farts emanating from your person. That's what midday on a Sunday is about. But, in their infinite wisdom, one of either Wolverhampton Wanderers Football Club, or West Midlands Police, decided that if the game was at 3pm on a Saturday as planned, there was no possible outcome but a full on riot. Somehow Stoke managed to stage their encounter between the two teams at this time, but Wolves couldn't quite manage it.

The thing is, the people who make trouble at these games don't care when it kicks off. The fine gentlemen who accompanied me on the morning train from Manchester and were 5 beers deep before I had even woken up properly, didn't care what time the game kicked off. It was a crap decision and it was an undeniable contributor to the game's muted atmosphere. The other, much larger contributor being the dross that was served up as entertainment in this, the finest league in the world. The Police got lucky there as they could now step back and bleet about how the early kick-off ensured there was little or no trouble. 'Oh no, it wasn't the kick off time. It was boredom killed the beast.' It didn't matter when that game kicked off, if Stoke slammed home a 94th minute winner thanks to a controversial winner (for example), the atmosphere would still have turned rather nasty. It's no time for football.

There seemed to be even more long throw opportunities than normal in this encounter, a threat with which Wolves coped with relatively comfortably. The barrage of throws was much to the disdain of those footballing purists that follow Wolves however, who greeted each newly awarded Stoke throw with a 'boring, boring' chant. These same budding wordsmiths also enquired of the Stoke support, 'how do you watch this every week?'.

Wow. Where to start with this one. First of all, whilst such an enquiry could perhaps be accepted from fans of Barcelona or Arsenal, this was being asked of us by Wolves fans. People in boring glass houses, should perhaps not throw stones, ay chaps? Take out Jarvis and Doyle and what did that Wolves team have going forward? Nothing. There was barely an attack on the Stoke goal the entire game, so lets not not get any delusions of grandeur here.

Secondly, the main reason we can watch this every week my dingle chums, is that we are currently 10 points ahead of you, safe from relegation and looking forward to our third straight season of Premiership football. As you yourselves are no doubt aware, a couple of decades away from the limelight sees priorities change and expectations likewise. In other words, we aren't playing Scunthorpe and Gillingham away anymore, and we don't have to consider a home game against you lot as our biggest game of the season.

This brings me neatly back to the point I was making earlier, namely that surely survival and improvement on last year, was most Stoke fan's goal for this season.
After the game, there was understandably a few grumbles amongst the travelling Stoke fans. Shelling out £40 to watch that game would do this to the most upbeat of fans. Yet aside from legitimate grumbles about team selection and tactics, the type of grumbles that one cannot be a football fan without, some people seemed to lack a little bit of perspective.

There were a few people walking off from the ground, also a fair number who post on the Oatcake forum, and also a small number ringing into Radio Stoke's Praise and Grumble phone-in, who seem genuinely unhappy not only with this result, but also with Pulis in general. Now while being anti-Pulis is nothing new, surely being 10th in the Premier League and ensuring the club is amongst the most stable and secure in the English game, should buy him a little bit of slack?

I've said from my very first blog entry, that for me, this season was always about consolidation. I don't care too much about the standard of football, as long as we stay up, and hopefully improve on last year. Tony himself has suggested that it will take in fact 3 seasons to consolidate our position in the top flight, and then we can begin to push on. Ok, well, I said 2 seasons, a professional manager says 3, I'm willing to accept that he might, perhaps, know more about managing a football club than me, so will grudgingly accept his assertion. I hope we can 'push on' (football management speak for 'do better') next season however and with a few more quality signings, namely a forward to take some of the pressure of Riccy, a right winger, and a midfield maestro, we shouldn't have any problems cementing our position as a mid table top flight club.

Those potters fans who want to see a severe change next season however, should brace themselves for disappointment and perhaps curb their expectations slightly. We have done exceptionally well to stay where we are, and Tony is obviously not the type of manager to change his style of play on a whim. We are not going to suddenly turn into a Barcelona, a Brazil, or (god forbid) a West Brom. Expect more of the same next time round, only with any luck, a few more quality players brought in over the summer can see the percentage of games spent playing attractive football increased, and the reliance on set pieces etc, diminished.

We should bare in mind that the next step up from where we currently find ourselves means competing with the likes of Everton, Villa and Spurs. We are a long, LONG way off this yet. We cannot get ideas above our station and need to accept that for the next few seasons, our best case scenario is another mid table finish. I think all of us hope we begin to play a little bit more football, and with any luck, now we are established as a Premier League side, the players of the calibre we require to play slightly more attractive football, will be willing to come to us.

Next season sees the return of those perennial yo-yo favourites West Brazil Albion. With Tony Mowbray being busy playing the game 'the right way' up in Scotland, and proving just about as successful there as he was with WBA, the Baggies are now under the tutelage of Roberto Di Matteo. Another footballing purist who likes his team to play a pretty, passing game.

I applaud this mentality in the Championship, but surely West Brazil need only look at their own recent history to know that this approach may not work once you're mixing it with the big boys. Just ask West Ham and Burnley fans how their scintillating football is going at the moment. I'm sure Bob Matthews (to give him his English name), will be all to aware of his teams limitations, but whether he will be able to make them adapt to a much tougher opposition is another matter. Given the choice between a season of dogged, scrappy games that see us push into mid table or a season of well-meaning and occasionally attractive football that sees us lose continually to teams that are simply better at it than us....I know which i'd pick.

Dad.....what's an 'FA Cup run'?

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 19:35:00 +0000

Long before Lou Macari, seasons before Mark Stein, and decades before Rikki Dadason, Stoke City were actually a rather high flying club. I'm sure any of us with relatives over the age of 35 have been reminded many times that back then it was the likes of Liverpool and Man United we used to call rivals. On top of this, we regularly played in front of 50 000 fans, won most games by four or five goals and all the while played the kind of silky flowing football that would make Arsene Wenger break down and weep at the mere sight of it.

Ok, well maybe I exaggerate slightly, but the point remains that in years gone by, we were actually a powerful force in English football, regularly making forays into the latter rounds of the two cup competitions. For those of us raised on Division 2 football and Martin Carruthers, this all seems a little hard to believe I know.

In the past twenty or so years, our record in the cup competitions, has been pretty awful to say the least. The League cup in recent years has seemingly been an opportunity for Stoke to aid the smaller North West clubs in progressing to the next round. Rochdale, Oldham, Macclesfield, these titans of the modern game regularly prove too much for Stoke to handle in the junior cup competition. There have been some bright spots however. Drawing with Liverpool at Anfield. Beating Man United in the first leg at the Vic. We even dumped Chelsea out in late 90's which was also a bonus. That's all I can really recall however.

In the FA cup, our record is hardly any better. Not including the past two seasons, take a few seconds now to try and remember a memorable FA cup victory. I tried. You know what I came up with? 2-0 at home to Lewes. That's it. That's my total enduring memories of 'the magic' of the FA cup. Upon browsing our record, the forgotten memories come flooding back. Telford, Nuneaton Borough, even the Vale proved too much for us. EVEN WEST BROM BEAT US. That's right, even our perennial scalps, the baggies, beat us in the cup. It even took us a replay and a penalty shoot out to beat Tamworth.

This year however, for the first time in a long while, we were treated to some degree of Cup magic. It may not be a cup run that will be talked about for years to come, but it certainly was an enjoyable ride while it lasted.

We overcame York in the third round with relative ease. Their was the typical early scare as York went ahead, but three goals, including a sublime free kick from Etherington, was enough to comfortably see us through.

Next up were Arsenal at the Brit. I'm always more confident when we draw teams at home, as I'm sure most teams are. You always sense that at home, it's always possible we can get a result against anyone on our day. Unlike when we play away from home of course where the opposite applies and we can lose to anyone on any given day. Arsenal came into this game with a number of injury worries and a typically weakened team as priorities lay elsewhere. That's not to take anything away from the teams performance however as we still faced a team including Fabregas, Campbell, Traore, Walcott, Denilson in it's starting line up and saw the likes of Eduardo and Ramsey come on for most of the second half.

As the game went on, Arsenal rapidly ran out of ideas and were simply no match for our physical game, and with about five minutes to go, somehow, we were 3-1 up and cruising. I could scarcely believe my eyes. It was so comfortable, even I wasn't overly worries about us giving the lead away. We were the team on top and we even had a fourth goal disallowed late on. A comfortable 3-1 win at home over Arsenal, that's one for the record books.

I actually said after the game, that with Arsenal and Man United now out, the only teams we wanted to really avoid were Chelsea (more on them later) and Man city. Naturally, we went on to draw the blue half of Manchester away in the fourth round. Typical.

As it turned out, this was one of the most enjoyable away days of the season so far. A lacklustre home support were easily out sung, as the travelling Stoke fans were in typically fine voice, with a wide array of witty (kind of) songs aimed at poor Wayne Bridge over the John Terry shenanigans.

It was a close game, and one that was only broken up in the first half thanks to a comically bad own goal from England's Ryan Shawcross (as he shall henceforth be known). Wright-Phillips latched onto a through ball and reached it just before the on coming Tommy Sorenson. Flicking the ball forwards, he and England's Ryan Shawcross gave chase to a ball that was seemingly bouncing harmlessly out of play. England's Ryan Shawcross took no chance though and in attempting to shepard the ball out, manged only to crumple gracelessly to the ground, keeping the ball in play with his head, and in doing so laying it off right into SWP's path who gratefully slotted it home. One destined for the Christmas blooper videos come December.

Stoke gave as good as they got though and almost pulled level through a spectacular Danny Higginbotham strike from about 30 yards out. We were directly behind Higgy as he struck this, and a sweeter strike you won't see all season.

The second half saw Stoke looking lively, whilst City looked progressively more and more toothless. With their wealth of attacking talent, you expected to be bombarded with wave after wave of flowing football but alas it was never to be. Eventually the Potters equalised through a Rory long throw and a clinical header from Fuller.

As the game wore on, City missed a couple of good chances and Santa Cruz in particular wasted a golden chance for the home side. In the several games I've seen him play for City now, I'm yet to understand what exactly Santa Cruz brings to the side. Maybe with a run in the side he'd look slightly sharper, but he seems completely innocuous at times and it's a relief in anything when he is brought on for Adebayor or Tevez.

Ultimately the lads held on for a good away draw, and the travelling supporters celebrated as if we'd won the game. Taking the tie back to the Brit gave us a great chance of progressing to the Quarter finals and for once what ITV commentators would call 'the magic of the FA cup', was surrounding me.

The second leg was a tight affair for the most part, with both teams going all out for the win. It took a silky move between Tuncay and the returning Dave Kitson to break the deadlock on 79 minutes as the rejuvenated striker showed what he is capable of and deftly slotted home Tunny's flick from close range. The Brit erupted, but the celebrations didn't last long as Craig Bellamy showed his quality to slam home a knock down from Adebayor just two minutes later.

With the two sides cancelling each other out, the game was evenly poised, but a few minutes after he set up his team's goal, Adebayor was shown red by referee Steve Bennett for raising his arm in England's Ryan Shawcross's face. I actually missed this at the time, and to be honest it seemed fairly innocuous. Replays later showed that the Togolese forward did raise his arms to fend off England's Ryan Shawcross, and certainly caught him in the face. It was perhaps a harsh red card as there was little or no intent, but by the letter of the law he had to go. Let's see it as karmic justice for a certain questionable refereeing decision that occurred in our last meeting with the blues (it still smarts Wiley).

Once he had gone, there was only one team going to win, and despite holding out to force extra time, two quick goals from England's Ryan Shawcross (nope, still not tired of it) and Tuncay saw Stoke stride into the lead and never really look like losing it.

When the final whistle went, Stoke fans celebrated their first FA cup quarter final in decades and spent the rest of the weekend eagerly awaiting the draw.

I would put good money on the fact that every Stoke fan uttered the phrase "anyone but Chelsea" in the run up to this draw. Anyone else and you really fancied our chances of getting a result.Sure enough though, the draw rolls around and with crushing inevitability, we wind up drawing Chelski. Of course. Who else would it be. At Stamford Bridge too. Perfect.

At home and as I've already said, you always give us an outside chance against anyone. At the Bridge though, against an in form Chelsea, it was always an uphill task.

Ultimately, it proved one top 4 team too far. We were by no means over run by Ancelotti's boys, but at the same time, we never looked too dangerous. An early chance powered in from the edge of the area by Whitehead was cleared off the line. Not too long after, a similar chance fell to Frank Lampard up the other end and unfortunately, his chance ricocheted into the goal and past a helpless Sorenson. I always think that Frank must be a real whizz at pinball. His knack for guiding the ball into the goal whilst ensuring it hits the maximum number of bodies on the way in must be transferable to something.

As the game wore on, we struggled to create chances and when Chelsea doubled their lead it was game over. The boys hadn't disgraced themselves, but were ultimately beaten by a superior Chelski team.

Ah well. Que sera, sera. We had a good run and it was fun while it lasted. We'd finally rekindled a bit of the magic of yesteryear and kept our interest in the FA cup going longer than that typically gloomy January weekend like normal. For once I could take part in that tense, if not slightly over blown, experience of a new rounds draw and it's numerous possibilities and permutations. Only one game shy of Wembley still represents a good achievement for Stoke and is a sure sign of progress.

Maybe this is the start of a glorious new era of Cup endeavour from the Potters. Maybe we can go that extra step or two next season and give our fans a trip to Wembley. (I could rant here about the absolutely shite decision by the FA to have the semi finals at Wembley which not only devalues the final itself, but also benefits no one but the assorted London bigwigs and sponsors who get two days out in the hospitality lounge rather than one. I could make that rant here.....but I won't). Who knows, next year, could really be our year.

...................Mind you, we could just lose away at Rochdale.

Arsenal (h) Sat 27th February - Never really at the races.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 10:52:00 +0000

Beauty and the beast. Skill versus strength. Continental flair against dogged determination. Over the course of two seasons and five meetings between the two clubs, the matches between Arsenal and Stoke have come to epitomise the contrasting styles of football on offer in today's Premier League. Arsene Wenger has built up a young and hungry side that plays the beautiful game "the right way", and is a joy to watch to the neutral observer. On the other hand, Tony Pulis has built up a solid and determined squad that plays a version of the beautiful game "his way", which can barely be stomached by neutral observers....and for that matter a fair number of Stoke fans too.

I have never had very strong feelings either way towards the Gunners. I'm not old enough to remember the FA and League cup semi-final controversies from the 70's that have forever turned many older Stoke fans against the side. Just mentioning the words 'Arsenal' and 'semi-final' to my dad is enough to prompt Vietnam Vet style reactions as he winces and yells "you weren't there son, you don't know what it was like, you don't know what we went through".

I also only patchily remember the era of 'boring, boring Arsenal' under George Graham. For most of my adult life thus far, the Gunners have been under the tutelage of Mr Wenger and have played some breath-taking football that it's hard not to be impressed by. The likes of Henry, Bergkamp, Pires, Ljungberg and more recently Van Persie and Fabregas, have provided some of the most impressive and memorable goals in Premier League history.

Set against the mass corporate juggernaut of Man United, the billionaire's play thing of Chelsea, and, well, Liverpool, they come across as the more sensible and likable of the big four. It has to be said however, that this accolade has been achieved despite the best efforts of their long serving manager Arsene Wenger. Few managers can match the Frenchmen in his ability to frustrate and annoy with his one sided view of the game.

How could he never seen Patrick Viera foul someone? Every week on Match of the Day when Patrick had emasculated yet another opposition midfielder i'd watch convinced that this was the time Arsene would have to admit his team was capable of foul play. Just once. I was sure he'd slip up once and admit it. Alas, it was not to be, the wily Frenchman was so persistent we all stopped caring and grudgingly accepted his unflinching stubbornness. You won that round Arsene.

Since Stoke's arrival in the big time, we have, perhaps inevitably, encountered the wrath of Mr Wenger on several occasions. After a bruising encounter at the Britannia last season, Wenger called the Stoke team 'cowards' due to their penchant for heavy tackling, and even went as far as to suggest we went out of our way to deliberately injure his players : (http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/sport/football/premier_league/arsenal/article5081556.ece) Sound familiar?

Then, earlier on this season, in what was clearly a thinly veiled critique of our style of play, he was quoted as suggesting the long throw should be banned as it is against the idyllic view of footballing purity that he believes in. (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/football/article-1238500/Arsenal-boss-Arsene-Wenger-wants-scrap-throw-ins.html)

Then of course, there was his take on the unfortunate events that occurred during this Saturday's encounter at the Britannia.

Before I get too into this topic, I think it's only fair to mention that before the game, Wenger did actually offer Stoke a rare compliment of sorts. He conceded that we have progressed from last season and now fully capable of combining our usual direct game with passing and movement. (Why Mr. Wenger, stop, you flatter us too much. We'll be attempting the counter attack or the short corner next!)

And so to the cause of Mr Wenger and Arsenal's ire, THAT tackle by Ryan Shawcross on Aaron Ramsey.

My humble opinion is thus; it was a slightly mistimed tackle, that was not overly aggressive and certainly wasn't in any way malicious. The vast majority of the media and general football watching public seem agreed on this, with the only slight point of contention being whether it was a red card offence or not. It certainly wasn't an excessively aggressive tackle and it should be noted that Ryan's studs were down and he went in one footed.

It was slightly late, due to Ramsey nicking the ball off Ryan's toe at the last minute, but the ball was there for Ryan to go for, and he had every right to try and win it. The more I've seen the incident, the more undecided I become. It probably isn't a straight red offence, but I can understand why Ryan was sent off. The referee didn't feel he had a choice due to the horrific injury Ramsey suffered, and it was this injury that swayed him (http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/teams/s/stoke_city/8541466.stm).

While this would seem to be the pertinent debate, Arsene wasted no time in wading straight in after the game and describing the tackle as "unacceptable", adding that it was "ridiculous" that Shawcross would only be suspended for only three matches : (http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2010/feb/27/arsene-wenger-ryan-shawcross). It was his opinion that once again Stoke had deliberately set out to injure his side and Ryan's crime was one so terrible that a lengthy ban was the necessary punishment.

In the heat of the moment, this could almost be understood. He was upset and angry that one of his hottest prospects was facing a lengthy lay off from such a dreadful injury. A man with the media savvy and wealth of experience that Arsene has however, should not really be making such wild and unfounded accusations. Giving him the benefit of the doubt however, lets say he was upset and speaking in an emotional state. Allowing the dust to settle, maybe he'd see he was perhaps a little over zealous and shouldn't have said what he did.

Alas, it hasn't proven the case. Arsene has stood by his guns (pardon the pun), and is maintaining his hard line stance. Now we all know how frustrating Wenger can be, but when it's against your club, it tends to rub you up the wrong way that little bit more.

It's worth noting however that even my Arsenal supporting housemate who normally gives Arsene a run for his money in the astonishingly biased viewpoint stakes, has agreed that the challenge was not malicious and merely mistimed. Anyone who knows my housemate will know how big a deal this is. I've seen him on a regular basis flatly deny clear Arsenal infractions and yet somehow see heinous crimes committed by the opposition that everyone else in the room, and of course the biased commentators, did not see. Even he agrees that Ryan did not set out to injure Aaron Ramsey Arsene. Even he.

Such is the stubborn nature of Mr Wenger however. He does not like Stoke's style of play, he does not like any physicality in the modern game, and everyone is out to hurt his starlets. This is what he believes and nobody is going to change that. He is an infuriating man who makes it harder and harder for me to enjoy the brilliant football his team can produce.

Providing we stay in this league for the foreseeable future, as I truly believe we will, then I can see games between our two clubs maintaining a bit of tension and bite for a few seasons yet

The game as a whole takes a backseat once such a horrific injury occurs. It really is a sad sight to see and I know all Stoke fans wish Aaron Ramsey a speedy recovery. This weekend there will have been much worse tackles committed that will have led to no such injury. Liam Ridgewell's for Birmingham on James McCarthy and Michael Ballack's on Carlos Tevez, were both arguably worse challenges, in that they were cynical and showed no obvious attempt to play the ball. Yet due to circumstance, the victim in those two incidents didn't suffer a horrific injury. It really was an unfortunate incident that nine times out of ten would not have had the outcome it did. Get well soon Aaron Ramsey.

To be honest, the game taking a backseat is probably for the best in this instance. Stoke were never really in it, and despite taking an early lead, were struggling to contain Arsenal from the off. Today Arsenal stood up to Stoke's aerial dominance and despite needing two late goals, never looked in danger of losing the game.

I still maintain that I'd rather the Gunners won the league than any of the other 'big 4'. I want to enjoy their flowing football and see them triumph over United or Chelski, but Christ on a bike if Arsene doesn't make it hard for me to do so at times.

Portsmouth (a) Saturday 20th Feb - Justice, thy name is Salif.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 09:56:00 +0000

Let me start out by issuing a unreserved apology to a Mr S. Diao. In my previous blogs I have questioned your performances and even your ability to pass to men in the same colour shirt as you. However, after Saturday's game, I believe you are in fact a king amongst men and deserve the key to the city of Stoke-on-Trent and the right of Primae Noctis over all newly wed brides.

Whilst I may, perhaps, be running the risk of getting carried away with myself after the excitement of Saturday evening, it is certainly no exaggeration to say that this result went some way to making up for Wiley-gate (as it shall never again be known).

For the hardy souls who made the daunting trip down to deepest darkest Hampshire, the celebrations when Salif smacked in Riccy's pull back deep into injury time, must have been a cathartic release that had been pent up since the previous Tuesday. For those of us watching in our living rooms, the feeling is never quite the same, but rest assured, jubilant celebrations were held in living rooms of Stokies across the country. I wager however, that many of these celebrations, (including my own), were delayed by about ten seconds while we focused in on the referee and nervously awaited his confirmation.

The game was a scrappy performance from the potters, as Wilko was given his marching orders for a harsh second yellow and we were once again forced down to ten men. Prior to this, we fell behind to a Porstmouth team that outplayed us in the first half, but struggled in the second. Huth had drawn us level with a comfortable header from a Whelan corner, and for a while, it looked like we could start to push for the winner. The dismissal of Wilko however meant a more cautious approach, and we struggled to create any more chances.

The boys really dug in though and never really looked liking going behind to a beleaguered Pompey side. Once again Riccy was our main (or only) attacking threat, and it was his perseverance deep into injury time that led to him bustling through the Pompey back line, drawing the keeper out of his goal and squaring the ball in front of an open net.

I will hold my hands up here and admit I was less than complimentary about Salif when he was brought on, and may even have said something along the lines of "Tony's definitely settling for the draw now". Nevertheless, there he was, steaming into the area just at the right moment to twat Fuller's cut back into the roof of the net and send the travelling Stokies, as well as us at home, wild.

Diao is a frustrating player, who clearly shows signs of his quality, but too often lets himself down with silly tackles and misplaced passes. I truly hope however that he can start playing again to the best of his abilities, as on his day, he can be a valuable defensive midfielder.

It was a precious three points in only our second away win this season, and whilst I'm far too pessimistic to suggest we are now safe, it certainly sets us in good stead as we are now ten points clear off the relegation zone, and just two wins away from the magical 40 point mark.

Salif may not score many more goals for Stoke, and he certainly won't score any this dramatic.

Stoke City FC, we really do only need ten men.

Man City (h) Tuesday 16th February - AAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 08:39:00 +0000

There are certain footballing fantasies that every fan at some point harbors. I'm a big fan of such fantasies and I actually referred to 'the mythical 95th minute lob' in my first blog entry. Here I outlined the reasons why I keep going to football, namely that for all the boredom and disappointment you experience at times, you hang in there for that one rare fleeting moment of unpredictable magic that makes it all suddenly seem worthwhile. These moments are few and far between.

The last major one for us Potters was the play off semi final against Cardiff several years ago. There, at a volatile Ninian Park, an equalising goal in the dieing moments of normal time and then another at the end of extra time saw us miraculously overcome the Bluebirds and ensured the name Souleymane Oulare was etched into Stoke City folklore forever.

In recent memory, obviously the promotion clincher against Leicester comes close, but it was not ultimately that dramatic come the last game of the season. I'd say the last minute leveller against Villa at Villa park last season was pretty special, and certainly ranks up there with the most memorable of matches in recent seasons. (I think there's something incredible about last minute goals that makes any result much more dramatic. The last-ditch element just gives any draw or victory an extra edge.)

On Tuesday night, the 16th of February, 2010, a true mini footballing fantasy almost came to pass. The ingredients were all there. Not only was it a 95th minute winner, it was also scored by a defiant 10 men who had battled against the odds and looked to have snatched a memorable victory.

This is Roy of the Rovers football. This is the type of magic that happens every 5 or 6 years, maybe more. This would have been one of the greatest mentals the Britannia has ever seen.

But Alan Wiley snatched it all away from us. He robbed us off our mental. Alan Wiley destroyed my footballing fantasy.

A Man City supporting friend of mine conceded that we were a hard side to play against, but also asked me "how can you watch that every week?" His point is a common one in my experience with supporters of other clubs. They see the scrappy games and the at times 'direct' approach, and think every week is a boring snorefest with no excitement whatsoever. For me, such criticisms are valid but missing the point entirely. I have always been of the train of thought that it's the results that matter, and not so much the style with which we obtain them. I know this is a contentious point with some, but there we go.

In other words, I can always overlook the occasional (and it is only occasional, we do genuinely play some nice football in some games) bland and unimaginative football. We accept the long balls and the throw-ins, because we all know that they are effective and get results. It's the goals and victories we tend to remember, not the flowing moves, or indeed the long throws that lead to them.

The reason we can watch TP's style of football every week, is that every now and then, it can produce amazing results, and big shocks, that we never could achieve by trying to 'out play' the opposition. Alan Wiley robbed us off a big pay off, the kind of evening where all the disappointments and boredom that we have suffered in our years supporting Stoke, are forgotten about and it all somehow seems worth it.

I know this is slightly melodramatic, as it was only a disallowed goal in a generic league game, but it's the denied drama that has angered me so. A draw at home to Man City, when we've played half an hour with ten men, is not to be scoffed at. This is a decent result....in theory. Having been there at the Brit however, and seeing how hard the lads worked, it leaves a severely bitter taste that their endeavours were not adequately rewarded.

The whole team rose to the challenge and can count themselves proud of their efforts. The sight of Dean Whitehead, covering at right back, surging forward pass 3 City defenders, with 90 minutes played, a third of that time with a man down, was a joy to behold.

The rest of the game pales in significance really compared to this one crucial twist. Looking back it reads like a catalogue of contentious refereeing decisions from Mr Wiley. First he misses Patrick Viera kick Glen Whelan in 'the midriff ' (as football commentators always call it). Then, when Viera is tussling with Whitehead and seemingly clocks him round the head, the ref blows up, gives a free kick and books the Frenchmen. Surely it's either accidental and to be ignored, or he has raised his hands and its a red?

Then of course there was the sending off. Faye failed to deal with a searching ball for Adebayor and let it go over his head in the hope he would out pace and out muscle the big City forward. Unfortunately for Abdoulaye, he was out fought by Adebayor and found himself falling behind the pacey striker. His resultant challenge was clumsy but on first viewing, he appeared to get the ball. Wiley initially waved the City claim away, but his linesman flagged for the foul. After a brief discussion, Wiley adjudged Faye to be the last man and had no choice therefore but to send him off.

Tone was very honest about this and stated he had no complaints about the sending off. For me, I think Faye got some of the ball and Collins would have got over to cover, so I think the red was a little harsh, but who am I to dispute this with Tone. If he's happy with it, I'll let it go.

Mr Wiley also waved away a strong penalty claim from Ricardo midway through the second half. He appeared to be clattered by a pair of City defenders, right in front of the linesman as well. However the officials saw nothing wrong and allowed play to go on.

Then, there was THAT goal. A goal that every pundit, presenter and player, as well as anyone I have spoken to about the game, has said was a legitimate goal.

Alan Wiley. You inept Buffoon. He decided that Ryan Shawcross fouled Shay Given when the two went up for Rory's throw. If you watch the clip of this incident, this claim seems ridiculous. Ryan never even looks at Shay, keeps his eyes on the ball and his arms at his side. He simply jumps before Given and rises higher. A perfectly good goal. Ryan claims the ref said to him after the game words to the effect of "you can't challenge the keeper in the six yard box". While this claim is ridiculous in the first place, it's also plainly not what happened. Given ran into Ryan if anything!

It was a solid performance up to Faye's sending off. We weren't creating much, but we were containing Man City's threat and Fuller was a handful as ever. Glen's goal gave us all hope and it was about time he got one on target after a couple of John Gayle-esque balloon's over the bar. When he smacked his shot into the bottom corner around the 70th minute mark, many of us no doubt drifted back to the same game last season where we went down to ten men and held on for a win. Alas it wasn't to be repeated tonight. Man City's equaliser was a scrappy affair that it looks like Sorenson could have dealt with much better. They had a lot of pressure but very few chances.

On this performance, the Manc's need to seriously up their game if they want to make the Champions League. They lacked any cutting edge going forward and struggled to deal with Stokes physical presence.

The FA cup replay is on the horizon and I don't doubt that a packed Brit will be roaring the lads on with more passion even than normal. Revenge will be sweet.

As for Mr Wiley, I imagine he's going to dread any return to Stoke-on-Trent, as we Stokies have long memories, just ask Rob Styles (Two ridiculous red cards against Gillingham in the play offs.....I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN YOU STYLES).

I'm sure i'll let this go in time, but for now, i'll simply say this...You owe me one bona fide Roy of the Rovers football fantasy Alan Wiley!!!! You owe me!

Wigan (a) Tuesday 9th February - Another priceless away day point.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 20:04:00 +0000

As anyone who attends live football has no doubt at one point noted, even the most raucous of stadiums can appear strangely empty merely minutes before kick off. Then suddenly, the drinkers emerge from the concourses and in the blink of an eye, the empty spaces fill up and suddenly the ground is a buzzing hot bed of noise.

Then of course, there's the DW stadium and Wigan Athletic.

In my entry for the home game against Wigan I was fairly critical of their away following and fans in general, so I won't spend too long doing so again. Slagging of Wigan for having a crap attendance is a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. It's like having a go at Man United fans for being gloryhunters or having a go at Stoke for being slightly one dimensional. Their owns fans are well aware of their stigma, and the criticism is really nothing new. So, with that in mind, I'll simply say that rather unsurprisingly, there was little in the way of atmosphere at the DW tonight, but the travelling Stoke fans were in fine voice and got behind their team as ever.

My final point on the matter is this: any fans that needs music pumped through the speakers to give an illusion of atmosphere when their team has scored, has to ask serious questions of their home support.

Anyway back to the game itself. In typically unpredictable fashion, Tony has decided to tinker with the side that beat Blackburn 3-0 and dropped Lawrence and Fuller to the bench bringing in Glen Whelan and Tuncay to fill their places in the starting eleven.

The first half was far from vintage stuff from Stoke as we struggled to create many chances and struggled to contain the likes of N'Zogbia and Rodallega as they broke forward at pace for Wigan. Credit where credit is due to Roberto Martinez and his Wigan side, they looked to play some decent football and caused our full backs plenty of trouble throughout the first half.

Things were looking so bad that at one point I uttered a sentence I never thought I'd utter at a Stoke game again, "we are missing Salif today". As soon as the words left my lips I took a step back and had a long hard think about what I'd just said. The fact is, with Salif, you never know quite what you're going to get. Every now and then you see the tough tackling defensive midfielder who can offer a much needed physical presence and really break up any midfield that tries to pass its way through the centre. Unfortunately, it's very rare you see that Salif Diao. More often than not its the Salif that gives away more free kicks around his own area than the rest of the team combined, and couldn't find his own men with a pass if his life depended on it. On careful appraisal I retracted my own comment and thanked the lord for Glen Whelan.

We conceded a disappointing goal on in the half early on from a set piece as Robert Huth failed to track his man and Scharner rose highest to nod home a well placed free kick. It wasn't by any means against the run of play and the home team probably deserved their lead at the break.

The second half was a much better affair from the Potters. We appeared much more willing to have a go at Wigan and predictably once Fuller was introduced on the hour mark, we looked even more dangerous going forward.

I can, in a way, understand why Tony sometimes likes to use Ric as an impact sub. With half an hour still to play, there can be few more daunting sights for a tiring defender than a fresh Ricardo Fuller entering the fray. There were some rival fans I spoke to before Stoke entered the Premier League who didn't think Ric would make the step up, but over the past season and a half, despite a fairly low goal return, he has definitely proven them all wrong. When you see him play week in, week out, you see the immense impact he has on any game he plays in. The driving runs and jinking twists and turns can have defenders tied in knots.

Tonight, Riccy entered proceedings at the expense of Rory, which meant that Tuncay went out onto left wing, moving Ethers out onto the right. The benefits of having a pacy and skillful player on both flanks was plain to see, as we pressed hard for the draw. Soon enough, Ethers embarked on another darting run down the wing and his pin point cross was met brilliantly by Tuncay to nod in unopposed at the back post.

Once that goal went in with 15 minutes to play, Stoke looked the more likely side to score. More bustling work from Riccy set Mama up for a header, but the big man was always stretching and he did well just to deflect the ball onto the bar.

Tony went for one last roll of the dice late on as Beattie was brought on for Mama and Lawrence on for Tuncay. This was good to see from Tone as you'd half expect him to thrown on a more defensive minded player and old out for the draw, but he is clearly showing that he believes Stoke can go away from home and win games.

With minutes to go, the ball found its way to an unmarked James Beattie just inside the area. He caught the ball well with his right boot but unfortunately put it too close to Kirkland in the Wigan goal. Beatts showed a lot of fight and desire when he came on, which is good to see for us Potters fans. He's clearly been out of sorts of late, a spat with the manager and reportedly nearly leaving on transfer deadline day have left him looking slightly like the forgotten man in the Stoke squad. We can't forget however that it was his goals that played no small part in keeping us up last year. That glorious header against Man City at the Brit being one that sticks firmly in the mind.

If Beatts can hit that type of form again, it will be like having a new signing, and while Tony shows no signs of dropping Mama just yet, Beattie can still expect plenty of chances to come on and show what he can do. If only he had stuck this chance away, it could of marked the start of a great resurgence from the striker.

Anyway, the game finished all square and Stoke were definitely thankful for the point. We are now at the 30 point mark and way on our way to that mystical 40 point target. With other sides in the bottom half also regularly picking up points and no one seems to be slipping out of touch just yet, it seems like the relegation battle will go right down to the wire.

I don't think either Wigan nor Stoke will be down there at the very end of the season, but for now, points like this are priceless and get us that bit closer to safety.

Blackburn (h) Saturday 6th February - Can we play you every week?

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 19:43:00 +0000

With about ten minutes still to play in this game a strange sensation hit me. It was a sensation I haven't known at a football match for some years now. I believe those in the trade call it......enjoyment. I was actually enjoying the game in front of me completely care free and safe in the knowledge we had three points in the bag.

I reclined into my seat, took a deep lungful of air and took a good look round at the smiling happy faces of my fellow fans. The hopelessly deluded woman who sits behind me was suddenly as quiet as a mouse. The over-enthusiastic gent who sits in front of me and commentates the whole game to himself was somehow less annoying than usual. Even the arch Mama hater who sits next to me and insists on booing his name every time it's read out, seemed positively jovial. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining and everything was right with the world.

This felt weird.

I'm not used to this. I'm used to feeling many things at football, usually a mix of misery, fear, nervousness and apprehension, but enjoyment....this is all new. I've often been criticised for my pessimism at Stoke games, and it's true, I do always assume we are going to mess it all up. I'm not sure how it all began, numerous last minute goals conceded and numerous hopes shattered have left me naturally wary of taking a lead. "We need another to be sure" is my usual response to Stoke scoring first as I lean gingerly back into my seat and prepare to adopt my patented 'Stoke-holding onto a lead' position of head in hands.

Today though, we were never in any danger of throwing it away. We were dominating the game and even before Samba was given his marching orders for Rovers, we were looking incredibly comfortable. This was of course aided by the fact that Blackburn could well have been the worst team we've seen at the Britannia since our entry in the Premier League. Isn't Big Sam supposed to produce tough and rugged sides? The type of side that makes commentators say things like "you know what you are going to get with a Big Sam side"! It would appear not.

Today Blackburn were weak at the back, utterly devoid of ideas going forward and may or may not have had a midfield on the pitch, I will need to double check that fact to be sure. Either way, Stoke ran them ragged and could easily have scored several more.

I'm hoping one lesson Tony will take away from this game will be that it is ok to really go for it at home against a fellow mid/lower table side. I say 'really go for it' as this is the term used by Stoke City coach Mark O'Connor to describe, on Radio Stoke before the game, the team we would be putting out to face Blackburn. 'Really going for it', thems fighting words Mark, what the devil are you going to do!

It turns out, 'really going for it', in Stoke terms, means....playing a winger on either flank. Wow. Talk about all guns blazing. Isn't that what most teams do week in week out? Only in a Pulis side would the notion of playing wide men on either side, rather than one winger and a central midfielder playing out of position, be considered 'going for it'. Whatever next Tone? It'll be full backs playing at full back next rather than centre halves!!! No, no, that's just crazy talk.

In all seriousness though, with Whitehead and Delap in the middle, and Lawrence and Etherington on either wing, Stoke were playing about as attacking a formation as Tone will allows us to play, and it was a decision that clearly reaped dividends against a poor Blackburn side.

After a superbly taken volley by Danny Higginbotham put us into the lead, Stoke began to look increasingly in control and as decisive going forward as we have been all season. Shortly before the half time break a superb Etherington cross was bundled over the line by big Mama to the delight of the Potters faithful (except of course the Mama hater who sits near me, who begrudgingly stood up and could barely conceal his disappointment).

Etherington has been playing out of skin recently and there has been talk amongst many Stoke fans of him being due an England call up. Many claim if he played for a more fashionable club he would be guaranteed a look in on current form. This could well be the case and it is undeniable that the winger has been in the form of his life the past 2 or 3 months. I fear however, that he will unfortunately continue to be overlooked by Fabio, as the likes of Steven Gerrard, and Joe Cole, to name but two, will always be ahead of him in the pecking order. For now I'm just happy he plays for us and is in the form he is in. Does his form warrant England consideration? Yes, definitely. Will he receive and England call up any time soon? Don't count on it.

Matty capped a scintillating display with a quality solo goal which saw him jink past a bunch of despairing Rovers defenders before cutting inside and curling the ball deftly around an outstretched Robinson in the Blackburn goal. Three goals to the good, and if it wasn't for several last ditch goal line clearances from the visitors, it could have been more.

As we sauntered away from the ground bathed in the sweet blissful euphoria that only a comfortable win can produce, our conversation turned to our next four upcoming home games. Man City, Arsenal, Villa and Spurs. 4 of the top 7 teams, all desperate for points to secure Champions League football. It is a daunting task, but it is worth remembering that in these four fixtures last season we got four wins and witnessed four of the most memorable games in the Britannia's history. Remember Mama's last minute goal against Villa? (I bet that bloke near me almost had a stroke when that went in). Remember the roar that went round the ground on 70 minutes against City as the boys dug in with only 10 men? Remember the relief at the final whistle as we held on against both London rivals?

Realistically, it is unlikely we will see such memorable games again this season. Footballing lightning very rarely strikes twice in the same footballing place (not a saying I know, but go with it.) At the Brit though we are more than a match for any travelling side, and I honestly think we can get two wins and two draws from those games if we play like we did against Rovers.

I'd forgotten what it felt like to cruise to victory, and if I'm honest, it's nowhere near as exciting as snatching victory out of nowhere in a hotly contested match, but for this one time, it was an unexpected treat.

Blackburn Rovers.....can we play you every week?

I hope the irony isn't lost on him....

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 19:29:00 +0000

I notice that Harry Redknapp was quoted in an article on TEAMtalk stating that "All footballers, and not just the England captain, have a duty to be role models - on and off the pitch".

That's Harry Redknapp. "Honest" Harry Redknapp, as he isn't known.

In other news....Jeffrey Archer says all politicians should be more honest, Darren Day says men should be more faithful, and a giant pot calls a kettle black.

Unbelievable.

Sunderland (a) Monday 1st February - Not one for the neutral!

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 21:41:00 +0000

Not one for the neutral. Not one for the purists. Not a great advert for the Premier League. There are any number of well worn cliches that can be attributed to this bore draw (oh, there's another one.) If you're a Stoke fan however, you would simply call it a fairly standard away performance.

This encounter was to be watched at home in glorious sky HD and naturally I invited a few friends around to share in my team's impending victory. Rather foolishly I was half expecting to witness a thrilling away performance that would put to bed and dispel the 'hoofball' label we have been unfavourably tagged with thus far during our top flight stint.

Alas after 94 minutes, I looked around the room at the barely conscious and slightly annoyed faces of my former friends and could do nothing but offer the most insincere of apologies for depriving them of an hour and half of their lives they will never get back. (I say insincere because I'm not THAT sorry, after all, they don't have to watch that week in week out!)

The starting line up once again saw Tone rotating his 'special' forwards Tuncay and Fuller, and playing one of them alongside Big Mama. This is a controversial subject for many Stoke fans, who still fail to see why Tony won't play Riccy and Tuncay up front together. I am slightly on the fence on the issue, as I can understand the need for a tall target man in some circumstances rather than two fast and skillful ones. The key thing to bare in mind however, is that the system Tony Pulis plays, his whole style of football, the style he's played his entire management career and has refined here at Stoke, revolves around having a player like big Mama on. When Mama isn't on, the system doesn't change, it just gets less effective. Obviously, there have been the odd exceptions to this rule, and no-one is in any doubt that Tuncay and Fuller COULD play together and be an effective partnership, but it is always going to be a rare occurrence under Tone and this isn't going to change any time soon.

Anyway, back to the 'action'.

We had a guilt edged chance to seize the advantage inside the first 2 or 3 minutes as a sublime Tuncay flick put Dean Whitehead through on goal. Maybe he was still getting warmed up, but his tame shot was hit straight at the keeper who easily palmed the effort away. Whitehead has improved significantly in recent weeks adding much needed bite in midfield and he possess a terrific engine late in the game. It's a shame he hasn't banged in a few more goals, but hopefully there are more to come.

The ex-Sunderland man was lucky to be on the pitch at all after a clash with Lee Cattermole, a player, much like Michael Brown, who seems determined to forge a reputation as a slightly less well known, but equally loathed Robbie Savage type figure. Loved by his own fans, seen as a dirty thug by most others. In this instance though, Whitehead was bang to rights. After a solid but unfortunately legitimate challenge from Cattermole, Whitehead had a moment of madness and kicked out petulantly at the Sunderland man's leg.

The ref was obviously feeling generous however and luckily for us only gave Dean a yellow card. Maybe our luck is finally changing? Whatever prompted this leniency from Howard Webb, may I be the first to say that it is a wondrous and brilliant thing to see in the modern game and he is a true credit to the Premier League. This brilliant refereeing was again demonstrated by Webb's willingness to let frivolous offences like Robert Huth cradling the ball in his own area go unpunished. Quite right too. Sure, some Sunderland fans may have been screaming blue murder for what they see as a cast iron penalty, but they must understand it's the only chance big Robert gets to practice his Basketball skills, and Mr Webb quite rightly didn't want to hinder the German's progress. Bravo Mr Webb.

As the game wore on and both teams managed to cancel each other out, the home fans at the Stadium of Light began to get impatient. Chances were extremely few and far between and Sunderland had only a Steed (does anyone else think his name is actually Steve and he's just trying to tart it up a bit?) Malbranque shot in the first half that stood out as a chance of note.

Sure enough, as the second half wore on, the odd boo began ringing out and groans of disbelief became a common occurrence. Frankly it was all too understandable as well. From an away team's point of view, a scrappy point on the road is definitely acceptable and against an established Premiership team like Sunderland, is nothing to be scoffed at. For a home team however, you expect a bit more drive and creativity. Tonight however, the mackems looked truly toothless and thoroughly uninspired going forward. Judging by many accounts, it has been this way for a while now. Their run of no win in ten games speaks for itself.

The home side persisted with playing a hopeful punt up the field to striker's Bent and Jones , a tactic that is rarely going to work against a solid Stoke defence renowned for its strength and power in the air. Yet it went on throughout the game, the ball was launched into the box and Shawcross and Huth headed it comfortably away. These poor tactics ensured Sunderland never really looked like scoring throughout the game and come the last ten minutes, my usual sense of impending doom was nowhere to be found. Stoke were as comfortable as they have been in any away game this season. Steve Bruce needs to turn things around, and soon, if he wants to keep the demanding mackems fans onside.

On the topic of Sunderland's attack, Steve Bruce recently taunted rival teams, Stoke amongst them, claiming they couldn't afford "£40 million Kenwyne Jones". £40 Million? If Bambi-on-Ice is worth £40 million, Fuller is worth £80 million, Mama is worth £20 million and I'm worth about £100,000. What planet is he on? I'd rather have any of the forwards we currently have than Jones, and the day he sells for £40 million is the day that not just football, but the universe as we know it, will implode and die a painful death.

Towards the end of the game Riccy went close after a typically powerful run on goal and Huth glanced a header wide from a well placed corner. It would have probably flattered Stoke if they did steal the win, but we definitely finished the stronger of the two sides. Nevertheless the match finished even and the home fans made their feelings clear with a chorus of boos at the whistle.

Despite being a fairly woeful match, it was definitely a decent point for Stoke and one closer to the magical 40 mark. Some away days are going to be like this, and we have to accept that thanks to our combative and dogged style, we are rarely going to go away from home and try and out play the opposition. For now, we stick to what we know and pick up the points where we can.

This Saturday thought we are at home to Blackburn . This is a game where we really HAVE to go for 3 points. Anything less must be seen as a great disappointment.

We have to expect a few of these scrappy games along the way, it's part and parcel of Premier League survival. Though I'm not sure my friends will be joining me for another Stoke away game any time soon.

Liverpool (h) Saturday 16th January - A scrappy but deserved point.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 22:50:00 +0000

It was slow at first, a whisper here, a subtle piece of punditry there, but somehow Stoke City were being touted as favourites for this game. First Liverpool lost to Reading in the Cup, then their three star players Gerrard, Torres and Benayoun were ruled out for several weeks a piece. Before you knew what was happening, unfashionable Stoke were being tipped to further Rafa's misery and provide yet another exciting installment in the scouse soap opera.

I could see the logic, the scousers were on a poor run of late, far from the force they were last season and a shadow of the side that tonked us 4-0 at Anfield back in August. With their three main (if not only) goal threats out injured and an uncharacteristically dubious defence, it was all set up for Stoke to pile on the misery. Or so the media and any neutral fan who I spoke to the few days before match day would have me believe. Naturally, I had other ideas.

Now granted, this was the best chance we'd have to beat Liverpool in a long while, but to think this game would be an easy one for Stoke was just silly. While they may have been hideously under performing of late, Liverpool's squad is still peppered with international stars of considerable calibre. Kuyt, Lucas, Mascherano, Aurelio, Carragher, even poor old Alberto 'money well spent' Aquilani, are all quality players with the ability to cause Stoke problems.

In addition to this, we cannot for a second underestimate Stoke City's considerable ability to produce a monstrous anti-climax. While we played brilliantly away at Villa and for 45 minutes against Fulham, we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory at Hull and went AWOL for 45 minutes against Wolves. Stoke are far from consistent this season and the Britannia is no longer the impenetrable fortress it once appeared.

So with cautious optimism, I went into this fixture, aware that we perhaps could cause an upset, but never forgetting that while the cavalcade of comedy that is Liverpool's abject failure this season is highly amusing to all and sundry, it doesn't guarantee three points for the Potters.

In my eyes the Rafa saga has been done to death now by the media and there is little more to be said about the slightly unhinged Spaniard. A list of his unsuccessful signings and the millions he has spunked up the proverbial wall ( www.redandwhitekop/forum/index.php?topic=249365.0 ) makes for astonishing reading. Furthermore, when he opts for unproven flop Degen in a midfield role over Aquilani, the most expensive bench warmer in town, you can't help but question his methods. He has put together a squad that basically revolves around two players, messers Torres and Gerrard. Even more foolishly he decides to build a squad with only one recognised first team striker, thus ensuring that whenever Torres picks up a slight knock, rather than rest up and get fit, he has to play on and make things worse.

Consider the glut of strikers Liverpool have offloaded in recent years, Crouch, Bellamy, Keane, Morientes. Surely one of these proven goalscorers could have been kept hold of in case fragile old Fernando takes a slight knock. Not so it seems. Rafa's decided he's just fine with Fernando Torres, Dirk "second touch is always a tackle'" Kuyt and David Ngog. Oh Rafa.

Of course Rafa also persisted for two and a half seasons with the woefully inept Andriy Voronin, a player so useless he made David Ngog look like a viable option. The Ukrainian striker was clearly out of his depth in the Premier League and knowing his obvious limitations, it raises further questions about Rafa's thinking. Did he really see Voronin as an attacking alternative going into this campaign? Whatever his thinking, one thing's for sure, unless he secures the signing of a second quality striker in this transfer window, it's difficult to see where Liverpool's goals come from in Torres's absence.

The first half of this dismal encounter was fairly even and with very little incident. Liverpool got the ball to their midfielders, who gamely ran about a lot but visibly panicked when their big brother Steven wasn't there to pass to, or indeed their strangely attractive sister Fernando wasn't there to sprint into space.

Instead they were stuck with David Ngog, a man who appeared to be merely impersonating a professional footballer this afternoon. He could well be the most ineffective forward I've seen at Stoke this season. Sometimes with players, you have to accept that the manager sees them on the training ground all week, he sees him play week in week out, he knows all too well what that player can do. However, quite how Rafa feels Ngog is the an acceptable choice to lead a club like Liverpool's forward line is astonishing. Even Dirk 'Iain Dowie's long lost Dutch brother' Kuyt would surely be a more valid option.

Shawcross and Huth easily contain him the entire game and it's down to the sprightly Lucas to pose some attacking threat. The busy midfielder charged into the Stoke penalty area mid way through the first half and appeared to be pole-axed by a lunging Danny Higginbotham. Luckily for us, the referee decided Lucas had dived and waved their penalty claim away before booking the aghast Lucas. Now replays do suggest the Brazilian may have gone to ground rather theatrically when Higgy scythed him down, but for me the defender clearly made contact and Lucas couldn't of stayed on his feet if they were encased in cement. Nevertheless, a brave and courageous decision from ref Lee Mason and one I wholeheartedly endorse.

Stoke lost both Abdoulaye Faye and Rory Delap in the first half. Rory was predictably playing on the right wing in order to accommodate Salif Diao in the middle, much to the continuing frustration of the Potters faithful. It is a general consensus that if Rory has to be played, then he is more effective in the centre then out wide. Diao actually played well today, but his ultra-defensive nature and astonishing lack of attacking prowess, is not particularly becoming of a home team searching for a win.

Rory went off with a calf strain with around 20 minutes gone and was replaced by Liam Lawrence, who for me has still to prove himself as a Premiership midfielder. He's undeniably a tireless worker who, on his day, can change a game. Recently however he has simply not produced the goods with too many misplaced passes, and far too few goals. Rory's throw ins are a superb asset to utilise against the better teams in the league. I firmly subscribe to the view that relying on his long throw every week is often a counterproductive tactic. However in most away games and in home games against the top 6/7 teams, it could well prove to be our best chance of a goal. When Rory went off, so with it went our only threat on goal thus far in the game.

The second half began much as the first ended, with both teams doing their best to ensure the Match of the Day editors had the toughest job possible to put together match 'highlights'.

On 57 minutes, Liverpool earned a dubious free-kick and defender Sotirios Kyrgiakos bundled the resultant cross over the line from yards out after a Sorenson fumble. The travelling fans rejoiced and Match of the Day editors thanked the lord for something at last to work with.

The next half an hour or so of football was far from pretty but nevertheless vintage Stoke. Free kicks, crosses, even long throws (who knew Salif Diao is an acceptable long throw deputy, obtaining an impressive distance if not the same velocity as the Delapinator), were constantly launched into the Liverpool box. Reina and his defence held on valiantly and almost did enough to secure the win.

Ricardo Fuller was brought on with 66 minutes played, and he once again made a huge difference. His powerful runs and dogged determination was a constant thorn in the Scousers' side and he must have won us at least 4 corners all on his own. It was off one such corner that our chance finally came in the 89th minute. The ball floated to the back post where Higgy headed it back across goal. A faint flick on from Diao and it fell perfectly at Huth's feet for him to smack it into the net from yards out.

You really can't beat a last minute goal when it goes for your team. The fact that it was yet another disappointment for the beleaguered scouse away following made it all the sweeter. The crowd knew just how important this goal was, earning us a valuable point in a game we could very easily have lost. The ensuing celebrations were up there with the best of the season so far.

There was still time for Dirk 'I wonder what his real middle name is' Kuyt to miss an absolute sitter in the last few seconds of extra time (arguably thus demonstrating why Rafa doesn't want him leading the line). Luckily his diving header rebounded back off the post and the still celebrating crowd collectively exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

Another disappointment for Rafa and his multi-million pound squad of European also rands. A priceless point for us.

Anyone who has read this blog before may remember me bemoaning our bad luck in the Villa away game and how I questioned whether this bad luck would eventually even itself out over the course of the season. Well, after Shawcross's blatant handball against Fulham went unpunished and Liverpool's solid penalty appeal was waved away here, perhaps it's fair to say what goes around has truly come around.

It'll take more than luck to win our next game though, on-fire Arsenal are at the Brit for red-hot FA cup action. I sense the Match of the Day editing team are slightly more excited about their prospects for this encounter.

Fulham (h) Tuesday 5th January - Making hard work of it.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 20:11:00 +0000

Due to the arctic conditions engulfing Britain this week, I reluctantly gave my midweek trip back to the Potteries a rethink. The game went ahead, but I decided against making the trek as the risk of being stranded in central Manchester upon my return was not one I felt like taking.

Luckily for me however, due to the Manchester Carling Cup derby being cancelled and Sky Sports desperately needing to fill the vacant footballing void, they took their cameras to Ice Station Britannia and covered our clash against Fulham.

It was a slightly surreal experience watching a Stoke home game on TV. I couldn't stop thinking of the various sights and sounds I was missing out on. The smell of over-priced offal burgers wafting through the air. The team walking out to "We'll be with you", Stoke's official 'hit' single from our glorious 1972 League Cup win. That first guttural roar from the crowd as we go on our first attack. Even the first clueless moan from the elderly woman who has sat behind me for the past 5 or 6 years has it's own endearing nature to it. Despite all the football she has seen, she still doesn't quite grasp the concept of playing the ball back to the keeper ("oh nooooo what's he going that way for!!!!"). Then however, I looked outside and saw the blanket of ice and snow and thought of how cold the Brit could be even in the height of summer......perhaps I wasn't missing out that much.

The visitors edged the first 10 minutes, but then the Turkish terror Tuncay (mmm that's good alliteration), nodded home from close range to give us the lead. Fulham's defence struggled to contain our aerial threat from set pieces for the whole game with our centre halves Shawcross and Faye, as well as big Mama Sidibe, winning countless headers and causing all sorts of problems.

Stoke haven't scored more than two goals in the Premiership since we beat Villa 3-2 in our first home game last season. Over 50 games have come and gone since that glorious day and in very few has such a feat even seemed a remote possibility. When Faye scrambled home our second goal on 34 minutes from yet another set piece, the unthinkable looked to be on. Fulham couldn't handle our physical presence and Tuncay and Etherington were once again running a defence ragged.

Five minutes later and after a superb passing move that once again belied our route-one reputation, Etherington flicked on to Mama and Sidibe shocked everyone by providing a lethal finish to rocket the ball into the back of the net. A Mama goal is rare enough, but one with his feet is almost unheard of. Nevertheless, he confidently stroked it home and sent us into the half time break 3 goals to the good.

Job done. 3 points in the bag. Stoke were cruising and could really have been 4 or 5 goals up. According to Jeff Stelling and Alan Curbishley in the studio, the game was already won.

Oh how little they know. I guarantee there wouldn't have been a single Stoke fan in that stadium who at half time didn't turn to their companions and mutter "it's not safe yet". Maybe it's due to years of under achievement and disappointment that we Stoke fans are naturally a pessimistic people. Maybe it's due to the countless squandered leads so far this season (Wolves and Chelsea at home, Hull and Everton away spring to mind). Regardless of what led to this mentality, one thing for sure is that Stoke fans are always wary of our own team's remarkable ability to make hard work of anything.

As expected, Tony clearly told the boys to sit back and soak up pressure in the second half. I say 'as expected' because Tony clearly tells the boys to sit back and soak up pressure when we are a goal down away from home. The fact he advised it today was hardly surprising. We looked solid for a while but on the hour mark Duff took a long range effort that received an unfortunate deflection to send it beyond Simonsen in the Stoke goal. It was around this point I adopted my usual 'Stoke holding onto a lead' stance, head in hands, top pulled up to below nose, glancing out gingerly through fingers.

The game was fairly even for most of the second half, Fuller had come on to replace the injured Tuncay in the first and he continued where the Turk left off. Riccy twisted and turned and created a couple of good chances for himself, one of which seemed destined for the far corner only for Schwarzer to deny him with a fantastic reaction save.

Sure enough, with 85 minutes played, Fulham's Clint Dempsey smashed home a superb volley from some distance out which looped over a stranded Simmo and set up the nerviest of finishes. I could imagine the change in atmosphere this goal caused at the Brit all too well. Nervous glances would be exchanged, conversations become more heated and the 'Stoke holding onto a lead' stance would become more widespread. The crushing inevitability of Stoke throwing away a seemingly unassailable lead was slowly coming to pass.

Or so I thought. Somehow the unthinkable happened and the Stoke team dug in and kept Fulham at bay to hold on for the much needed win. Naturally there was to be 5 minutes of injury time played first. This is barely a surprise anymore, few games at the Brit incur anything less than 4 minutes extra time and it's simply become accepted practice.

Far from being the enjoyable rout promised by the first half, the game turned into a tortuous slog that was to be endured almost as a punishment. When the final whistle went, I didn't leap around or cheer like one might after a typical 3-2 victory. I simply sat back and exhaled for what seemed like the first time in ten minutes, letting out a hard earned sigh of relief.

I was relieved not only to have held on for the win, but also to have ended our poor streak of late and to have once again remembered how to score goals. We may have made hard work of it, but we got there in the end.

It was undeniably a fine 3-2 victory. Just once though i'd like to really hammer a team. I'd like to sit back and patronisingly laugh as our third or fourth goal went it. I'd like to goad the away fans with chants like "you're not very good" and "time to go", classics you can only really trot out when the victory is assured. These laid back and leisurely games are a thing of the past for us now however. Gone are the days where we could take a lead at home and look commanding and unflappable. Now we are in the big leagues, any time we take the lead at home it's cause for the paramedic's to be on stand by a mass outbreak of panic attacks. One day perhaps we'll whip someone 3 or 4 nil, but for now, I fear i'll be seeing a lot more of the 'Stoke holding onto a lead' stance.

Right now however, we are on 24 points and 10th in the league. Things are looking up. It's amazing what a difference a game makes.

Aston Villa (a) Sat 19th December / Man City (a) Sat 26th December / Birmingham (h) Mon 28th December - A festive programme to forget

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 12:44:00 +0000

With the festive season now a distant memory and the drudgery of normal life back upon us once again, it occurred to me that I'd been rather sloppy of late and had missed entries for the past three league games. I would come up with some big excuse, but in all honesty it was down purely to a Christmas bout of extreme laziness.

These three games involved three defeats, four goals conceded and none scored by the boys in red and white. Ahhhh the joys of a packed Christmas programme.

With the Premier League season now over half way through, this poor run of results doesn't bode well, and whilst far from being a disaster, certainly leaves Stoke staring nervously at the wrong end of the table.

Prior to the Fulham game, we sit in 12th position with 21 points and a game in hand over most other teams. This in itself is not a bad record by any means, but a record of two draws and four losses in our last six Premiership games doesn't fill you with confidence.

Last year it was the stunning late fightback against Aston Villa which kick started our brilliant end of season run and came to epitomise our dogged never-say-die mentality. This season however, it was an excruciating let down and was typical of the poor luck and woeful finishing that has thus far epitomised our current campaign.

It really was a disappointing game, the type that it takes a few days to come to terms with, the type where I couldn't watch the Match of the Day highlights for around 5 days afterwards out of fear of smashing the TV into pieces with nothing but a sky remote. We really deserved something from this game with Etherington and Tuncay running the Villa defence ragged. Both missed good chances to give us a much needed goal with Tuncay in particular tormenting the Villa defence. Unfortunately it finished 1-0 to the home side as we rued missing several good hances.

Villa just about edged the first half but created very little in the second. Far from looking like a top 4 side, they looked sluggish and lightweight going forward and England starlets Milner and Young struggled to make an impact. Overall Villa looked tired, but after games against Man United and Sunderland in close succession, I suppose a bit of tiredness was to be expected. They celebrated this win as though it was one of the biggest games of the season, and it was undeniably a hard fought and precious victory for Villa as they push for a coveted Champions League spot.

What left a slightly bitter taste in Stoke mouth's however was the controversial disallowing of Mama Sidibe's perfectly legitimate goal. When decisions like this one go against you it's hard to keep perspective and not feel like you faced a great injustice the likes of which no other team ever has to suffer. Mama ran onto a superb Etherington cross and out muscling his defender (with arms barely raised mind), he nodded the ball firmly into the net. The defender Warnock went over rather easily, but to his credit didn't seem to be claiming a foul himself. The ref however managed to see an infraction and ruled out the goal. As one pundit noted after the game, if that was a foul, then Alan Shearer would barely of scored a goal in his career. A terrible, costly decision.

That goal would have put us in the lead and completely altered the course of the game. Once Villa scored however we were always up against it. In football, lightning very rarely strikes twice in the same place and there was to be no repeat of last season's heroics. Throughout the game we were guilty of missing several good chances, but we were definitely worthy of at least a point. On another day, and with a different referee, we could have produced another shock result, but alas it wasn't to be.

The Man City away game on Boxing Day was unfortunately not to be attended by yours truly due to family commitments. Whilst me and Keeling senior were far from averse to spending the day away from a house full of family in chilly Manchester, the fear of repercussions from respective better halves ensured that this match was one followed on the TV with Jeff and the boys.

Luckily, our decision paid off after all as we sank to a bland 2-0 defeat. By all accounts Stoke were never really in the game and posed little or no threat going forward.

Last season we faced City at Eastlands early on in our campaign and were taken to school by a certain Mr Robinho. That day we were outclassed and woefully ill-prepared. Today, while far from being as dominated as last season, we still showed no real sign of breaking City down.

The game came and went with little fanfare, and once it was over it was straight back to the leftovers, Roses and general over indulgence. This was definitely the easiest defeat of the season so far to get over. It's almost liked the memory of the Villa game numbed me to away-day pain. It's the games where you come so close to getting a result that really smart. This away day was never really within our grasp and the result was fairly predictable.

To complete the festive programme there was a Christmas home game against local rivals Birmingham City. Here was a great chance to get back on track and bring some much needed seasonal cheer to Potters fans. Unfortunately Brum were on a spectacular run and hadn't lost in ten games coming into this encounter. They were hot off a well earned draw against Chelsea at home and were always going to be a tough team to break down.

Earlier this season Stoke travelled to St. Andrews and came away with a draw themselves. We were the better team that day and Brum looked particularly lacklustre. I commented then that they would struggle this season and would get torn apart unless they changed something pronto. Thus proving that even yours truly is capable of Merson like football knowledge at times.

Somehow this rag-tag Brum team has pulled together and defied the odds to become a true force to be reckoned with. At a freezing Britannia Stadium they gritted their teeth and thanks to a commanding performance from Joe Hart in goal and resolute defending from their back four, they kept Stoke at bay. (A rugged and unattractive side pulling together and getting by on guts and teamwork....sounds oddly familiar.) They stuck away their one half chance and then defended stubbornly to leave with a memorable 'smash and grab' point.

These are the type of home games we were winning last season and we really can't afford to lose too many more matches against our mid-table rivals.

Stoke haven't scored in three Premier League games now, and only managed 4 in the last 8 outings. We also have the lowest amount of total goals scored in the league. Tone has given all four strikers a chance in the first team and none of them has gone on a goal scoring run. Beattie has looked worryingly unfit, Mama is as lethal as ever, Fuller and Tuncay both work hard but aren't taking their chances.

With the transfer window now open again, Tone may have one eye on a proven goalscorer to lead the line. I wouldn't give up on our forwards yet, as 3 out of the 4 of them are proven goalscorers in their own right, but how long can Tone give them before he seeks reinforcements?

A hugely disappointing festive period for Stoke, and a poor run that we need to put an end to sooner rather than later.

Wigan (h) Saturday 12th December - Surprisingly entertaining

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 14:55:00 +0000

To me, home games against Wigan always seem slightly less enticing than ones against other teams. I maintain that their existence in the Premier League is simply a joke that's gone too far. Even Wigan's own fans can't really believe they are in the top flight. Any of them that can still remember playing their home games at the rustic Springfield Park in front of two or three thousand fans will still be pinching themselves at the sight of nearly triple that amount cheering the team on against the cream of the footballing crop.

For years they were a run-of-the-mill lower league team, barely scraping by season after season. Then David Whelan comes along with his bottomless cheque book, throws untold riches at the club and proves everyone wrong by turning them into a comfortable mid-table Premiership team. If nothing else, David Whelan has proved that you can in fact polish the proverbial turd.

However whilst Wigan the club may be a top flight team, Wigan the town seems largely indifferent to their status. Their average attendance is creeping up slowly, but Wigan is predominantly a Rugby League town, and the football club hasn't really captured the local imagination. This is a fact plainly demonstrated by the wide array of empty seats that are always visible on Match of the Day for any Wigan home game. Their small fanbase is further exemplified by their pitiful away followings that have lead to such crap jokes as this one:

How many Wigan away fans does it take to change a light bulb?

Both of them.

It is thanks to this small, (no, lets call it what it is and stick with my original choice of descriptive word...pitiful.) It is thanks to this pitiful away following that it's always hard to get too excited about the visit of Wigan to your ground. Banter will be non existent and you almost feel bad for singing classic gems like 'is that all you take away' or 'can you hear the Wigan sing?' to their hardy few. It's almost like bullying someone much smaller and quieter than you. Obviously it's easy to do, but you should really pick on someone your own size.

Their was a slight shock in store for Stoke fans today as Tony had finally opted to start with Fuller and Tuncay together in attack. "BUT THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE," I hear you cry, "Tony said himself you cannot play those two players together!!!" Today however, Tony did the unthinkable, and played two quick and skillful players up front. First three forwards on the pitch against Arsenal, and now this. Whatever next........only one defensive midfielder? No, surely not, that's just crazy talk.

It should be pointed out that both big Mama and James Beattie were nursing injuries so Tone didn't have much choice in his forward line selection. (Though I wager he gave the first entry in his mobile's speed-dial, 'Cresswell', a long hard stare before making his decision. Cresser may now be on loan at Sheffield United, but he will always be in Tony's thoughts.) Nevertheless, this is what most Stoke fans had been waiting for, a chance to see the two 'flair' forwards teaming up to terrorise defences.

Unfortunately, Tone still opted for a fairly defensive midfield, with Whelan only on the bench and both Diao and Whitehead in the middle and Rory out on the right wing. This dynamic combination isn't particularly conducive to fast flowing football, although luckily Etherington was on top form out on the left wing. Tony also forgot to remind his players that we don't actually have big Mama on the pitch anymore. As a result of which, for the first 30 or so minutes, we witnessed a big long punt being sent up for Fuller and Tuncay to chase after, only for Wigan's back four to effortlessly nod the ball away. One might of hoped for a slight variation in tactics in order to suit are new look forward line, but alas, it wasn't to be.

After going a goal behind, Stoke did gradually get the ball down on the deck a bit more and, sure enough,began to look a bit more dangerous. After the Brit had engaged in a spot of collective groaning when Whitehead passed the ball back to the keeper from the half way line rather than deliver an incisive ball forward (maybe), the ball was one again lumped upfield by Thomas Sorenson. Luckily Ryan Shawcross had stayed up from the proceeding attack and so was able to flick the ball on into the path of the marauding Tuncay. The Turk kept his calm and ran on to slot the ball home from close range to mark his first goal in Stoke colours. Tuncay gleefully celebrated in front of the home fans, and one sensed this was the outpouring of several months of frustration at warming the bench that we were witnessing.

In the second half Stoke looked the likeliest to snatch a winner with Whelan, Fuller and Tuncay all going close. It was the Latics however who retook the lead with a freak goal by their full back Figeroua. As I'm sure we have all seen by now, the powerful defender took a quick free kick in his own half and spotting Sorenson off his line, proceeded to twat the ball half the length of the pitch with inch perfect accuracy into the corner of the net. It's hard to complain too much after such a class goal. You have to appreciate the audacity of the effort, and besides, we equalised through a Shawcross header moments later to undo all of Figeroua's good work.

The excitement didn't end there however as thanks to an utterly useless referee's assistant missing their player being offside by about 3 feet when he was fouled, Wigan were awarded a controversial penalty in the last minute. Watching the reply on Match of the Day, it was really hard to see how the assistant missed this. I think assistants get a hard time over offside decisions, as often its a matter of centimeters and requires a split second decision. This time however he has no excuse as the player brought down was sauntering around in a clear offside position for what seemed like a good five minutes before he was brought down. Nevertheless the penalty was given.....

Thomas Sorenson has saved his last two penalties for Stoke, and 4 out of his last 5 including when on international duty. Naturally, as Rodallega stepped up to take the spot kick, I turned to Keeling Senior and wisely predicted "there's no way he'll save three in a row."

Luckily I'm about as adept at predicting penalty outcomes as Kevin 'you know David Batty better than anyone ....will he score' Keegan. Sure enough the timid penalty went straight down the middle and Tommy batted the ball away with his legs. Cue wild celebrations from the Stoke faithful as Super Tommy came to the rescue once again to earn us an acceptable draw.

5 penalties saved out of 6 speak volumes of Tommy's abilities, and this season especially he has really proved that he was an absolute bargain buy, costing as he did nothing at all. Unlike a certain Mr Carson who wound up at perpetual yo-yo favourites West Brazil Albion after rejecting a multi-million pound move to Stoke. I think Tone made a wise decision there.

Overall, it's hard to be disappointed with a draw when you've so narrowly averted losing in the dieing moments, but in all honesty Stoke should have won the game comfortably. A freak goal and a terrible decision by the officials almost cost us very dearly. We showed a lot of creativity and Tuncay and Fuller proved they could play together which is a major positive. It was a game we should have won, but conversely one which we have to count ourselves lucky we didn't lose.

Arsenal (a) - Saturday 5th December - An acceptable defeat.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 12:51:00 +0000

It's hard to get too bothered by a 2-0 loss away at the Emirates. The best passing team in the league has completely decimated other sides on their home turf and realistically we were never likely to get anything out of the game.

For this encounter I was resigned to an afternoon refreshing the BBC online vidiprinter as not only was it an expensive trip to the capital which i couldn't afford, but also, alas, I was in work.

Relying on the internet is always a particularly unsatisfying way of monitoring a football game. If you can't be there in person, then it is a truth universally acknowledged that sky sports news with Jeff and the boys (and to a lesser extent BBC's final score with....whoever they can scrape together) is the next best thing.

Refreshing a web page to keep yourself updated is a far from efficient method of following football. You never feel at all in control and are left at the mercy of your Internet provider. I had the vidiprinter on one tab, the BBC 'live premiership scores' on another, the online 'BBC Final score' on another (on mute...obviously), and finally the Stoke Oatcake message board on another. Much like a man wearing two watches never truly knows the time, this myriad of online updates ensured that I was continually on edge, flicking continually between them all in the hope that one of them had match updates a few seconds quicker than the others.

During last season, I was in a similar situation when Stoke played away at Chelsea. It was an emotionally draining and permanently scarring afternoon which had a profound effect on my football watching from then on. I had managed to find an OK stream of the game online and was sneakily monitoring our progress in between calls at work. With 87 minutes on the clock, Stoke were somehow a goal up. Delap had sprinted past two defenders and deftly chipped Cech in the Chelski goal. (This in itself is enough to have you rubbing your eyes in disbelief...but it gets worse.)

On 87 minutes, I could take the pressure no more and did what any sensible person would do. I locked my computer, cut off all connection with the outside world and went and sat in the toilets, thus permanently freezing in time events at Stamford Bridge. Or so I thought. It would appear no one informed the Chelsea team of this little rule and I returned 4 or 5 minutes later to see Chelski had equalised and were really piling on the pressure. The following is a vague outline of my stream of conscience in the next minute or so:

Right, ok, I can accept this. A draw away at Stamford Bridge is nothing to be scoffed at. Mind you, Frank Lampard is looking a bit dangerous. He's pushing on quite well. There's no time left though now. 93 minutes. Game over. A hard fought draw. Frank is really pushing on though. Crikey, we should have cleared our lines there. Oh god. What's he doing there...no. Oh god no. Tackle him. Frank, FRANK, FRAAAAANNNNKKK NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. *smash*. WE HAD A DEAL FRANK. I FROZE YOU!!!!!!!!!!

That smash was the sound of me slamming my head-set against the monitor as Mr Lampard rifled home a winner from the edge of the area to scenes of pure ecstasy from John Terry and his motley crew.

This wasn't meant to happen. I froze you in time Frank.

This match almost tipped me over the footballing edge, it was just so brutal. There is something so apparently unfair about last minute goals. It's the finality of it, the lack of time for any response and the fact it makes the other 90 minutes seem completely pointless. It's even worse when it comes against a top team that you have so very nearly claimed a memorable scalp off.

Ever since this Chelsea game, I have developed a phobia of sorts towards last minute goals going against us. Ohforfuckssakephobia, we shall call it for now. As Keeling Senior can confirm, there is now never a game that goes by that I don't genuinely assume we will concede a last minute goal. It is actually an alarmingly common occurrence for Stoke, so it isn't entirely ridiculous. Our usual gameplan which sees us sneak a lead and then sit back and soak up pressure, is always asking for trouble.

I am mainly sharing this anecdote with you to illustrate the potential hazards of monitoring your team's progress online. Another reason however is that Stoke's away day at Arsenal was so run-of-the-mill and predictable, it barely warrants a blog entry of it's own.

A game where one team has 67% possession to the other team's 33%, is only ever going to end one way and if it wasn't for Tommy Sorenson in Stoke's goal, it could have been much worse.

There was one shock in store for Stoke fans however, as Tuncay Sanli was handed his first start for the mighty potters. Ricardo Fuller is one yellow card off a suspension, and seeing our upcoming home game against Wigan as far more winnable and thus important, Tony wisely relegated him to the bench for the trip to the Gunners. This presented Tuncay with a superb chance to achieve automatic Stoke legend status. Unfortunately, from all accounts, despite a lot of hard graft and tireless running, all Tuncay managed to achieve was a nomination for the Filippo Inzaghi award for most offsides in any one game.

Sure enough though, the BBC website informed me that Fuller was about to make his expected cameo performance. With the game only at 1-0 and Arsenal struggling to unlock our defence, he was all set to secure a memorable draw for the Potters. Naturally, I assumed Tuncay was coming off. James Beattie was already on for Mama Sidibe, so obviously we would trade like for like.

Tone had other ideas however. Maybe it was a rush of blood, maybe he hit his head and had a momentary lapse in concentration, but Tone decided to do something practically unheard of in the Potteries for the past 4 or 5 years. He opted to keep three forwards on the pitch. That's right folks. You heard me correctly. 3 forwards.

I could almost picture him now, cackling like a deranged mad scientist at the audaciousness of his hair-brained scheme. "That's what I'll do, I'll play three forwards mwahahahahahahaha. They said it couldn't be done, they said no team has ever done something so dangerous, but I'll show them. I'LL SHOW THEM ALLLL!!!!" . And with that Tony threw caution to the wind and went all out for that illusive goal.

About 3 minutes later. Arsenal scored their second and the game was safe.

We had had three forwards on the field for mere minutes, and our defense had been breached.

I can picture Tony now, baseball cap dropped to his feet, hands clasped to his sweating furrowed brow, and a a vacant stare into the mid-distance like a shell-shocked soldier. "What have I done. What did I do!!!!! How can I ever look Big Sam in the eye again?????".

"Never again!" Thought Tone, as he turned his back on the field of play and collapsed into Peter Reid's arms a broken man. "NEVER AGAIN!!!"

This dramatisation may not be quite how it happened, but you can bet that Tone would have taken note of what had occurred this fateful day. He would think twice before eschewing his tried and tested 'keeping it tight' method again.

The match day experience brought to me by BBC and the Oatcake message board was once again fairly disappointing, but this 2-0 loss was both expected and acceptable.

Unlike that dark day back in January. God damn you Frank Lampard.

Some wounds never heal.

Blackburn (a) Sat 28th November - A vast improvement

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 18:11:00 +0000

Last season's trip to Ewood Park resulted in a disappointing 3-0 defeat as a lacklustre Stoke were soundly beaten by a superior Blackburn side. It's testament to the progress our club has made in the 11 months since that dreary day in December that today's game was not only evenly matched, but if anything Stoke looked the most likely to win.

Obscurely, this game was far more entertaining than the 1-0 win the week before, and definitely marked a vast improvement from the team in terms of both creativity and effort. The match was end to end with each side having had plenty of chances to secure the win amidst some flowing football that belied their hoof-ball reputations.

Of course on paper, 0-0 between Stoke and Blackburn doesn't really leap out as an epic encounter, more so it leaps out as a guaranteed last match on Match of the Day. It was typical though of MOTD's anchor (and he is a complete and total anchor) Gary Lineker to summarise the entirety of the match with a short derisory "hardly a thriller". Oh I am sorry Gary, was it not quite thrilling enough for you? I counted at least 5 or 6 solid chances for both teams, each including an absolute sitter of Ronny Rosentahl proportions. Does this not deserve at least some comment?

If Stoke achieve a surprise result, like their outstanding win away at Spurs, then we are lauded with praise as a strong organised team that is equipping themselves superbly to life in the Premier League. The rest of our matches however tend to be in the last two or three on MOTD, which as any regular viewer knows, usually means minimal appraisal. Now i'm under no illusions here, a lot of Stoke games can be fairly bland affairs and i'm not disputing their lowly place on the MOTD schedules. However it does get a little galling when the smug jug-eared tw*t decides to dismiss the entire match with one short sarcastic aside.

Our usual MOTD coverage is as follows: a few brief match highlights, a short interview with the respective managers and then it's back to the studio. Right on cue, Gary leans back, raises his eyebrows at a smirking Alan Hansen and desperately holds back from sneering"what a shower of shite that was". They have all the time in the world to praise United's attacking threat for the umpteenth time, or discuss once again what's gone wrong under Rafa, but a quick minute long analysis of where Stoke are letting themselves down, or where they might improve.....that's too much to ask.

But I digress. Back to the game itself.

Ewood park is a great ground to visit, easy access, a quality view and chippies aplenty. Like most clubs who aren't Stoke, they have ample nearby parking and pubs, and you have no trouble getting away from the match quickly and stress free. It always amazes me how quickly you can get away from many of the away grounds we visit. Any fan trying to park near the Brit faces an obscenely early arrival to guarantee a space, and then a monumental wait to get off after. Even in the days when we were averaging gates of around 14,000 in the Championship, supporters were up in arms due to waits of over an hour to get off the club car parks. Cars crawl away from the ground in a poorly designed system that seems designed purely to maximise traffic congestion.

You may be spotting a theme over these past few posts, namely the gross incompetence of those who designed our ground and it's surrounding infrastructure. It really is not any exaggeration. Now I've grown to love the Brit, as i'm sure most Stoke fans have, but that's due to the experiences i've witnessed on the pitch and the electric atmosphere our fans create. My love of the Brit has come despite the open corners, the deficit of parking, the lack of roadways and pathways leading to the ground, the cramped concourses and the hill-top location. I've even grown to like the Incinerator-side views my seat offers.

For away fans however, a trip to the Brit is far from a pleasant experience. Any away fans travelling to fortress Britannia are greeted with an extreme deficit of nearby amenities and no pubs to frequent other than a Harvester that is about as safe and welcoming for away fans as a BNP rally is for Abu Hamza. In any away day league, a visit to the Britannia has to rank fairly near the bottom. Unless you have a penchant for industrial estates and incinerator's, there really isn't much to occupy your time.

Ewood park suffers no such problems however, and the ground itself is 3/4 of the way to being a top class stadium. The lowly looking Riverside Stand looks hideously out of place compared to its three modern compatriots, but other than that the ground is smartly designed and the top-tier in the Darwen End offers a brilliant view.

Blackburn's 90's heyday must seem like a distant memory to any devout Rovers fan. Their constant string of mid-to-bottom half finishes has clearly had an impact on the pitifully quiet home fans.If your ground is so quiet on match day that it makes the Reebok Stadium seem like a cauldron of noise, you know you are in trouble. There's barely a peep out of the Rovers fans other than the odd half-hearted 'Big Sam's barmy army', which did little but make the term 'barmy' sound bitterly ironic.

The travelling Stoke support was on top form however and almost had something to celebrate in the first half as both Dean Whitehead and Liam Lawrence went close only for Paul Robinson to show his quality in the Blackburn goal and thwart them both.

Pulis had seemingly learned from the Pompey game and opted to start Lawrence on the right instead of Delap. This ensured that we actually looked dangerous going forward and were able to attack from down both flanks. A rare treat in a Pulis side.

The other big change from the Pompey game was the inclusion of big Mama (in the 'Mama Role' of course) alongside the tireless Fuller up front. The two linked up as well as ever, with Fuller once again running their defence ragged, creating numerous chances for his team-mates but unfortunately none for himself.

The second half saw both teams go close, but Stoke in particular missed a couple of absolute sitters. Beattie came on for a tiring Mama and proceeded to spoon a chance over from close range when he really should have broken the back of the net.

It was Whitehead however who missed the chance of the match. This was one of those chances destined for a Christmas stocking-filler DVD, 'crap misses from the six-yard box when it's harder to miss...and gaffes 7' .

Whitehead actually had a decent game in the midfield, tirelessly closing Rovers midfield down and continually getting forward to support our front two. When Fuller went on a typically jinking run, cutting in at the by line and powering into the box, he spotted Whitehead unmarked merely yards out from the goal. A perfectly weighted pass was crying out for Deano, or even Etherington perfectly positioned behind him, to smack it home. Unfortunately Dean swiped wildly at the cross and proceeded to guide the ball harmlessly away from the goal. To say your Grandmother could have scored it may be a slight understatement. Your Grandmother could have done a few kick ups, paused to salute the travelling support, got down on her knees and nosed the ball over the line, but it just wasn't to be.

Nevertheless, Stoke left Ewood Park happy with a point and overall the game was genuinely a close and entertaining encounter which either team could have won. Despite what Mr. Lineker would have you believe.

Portsmouth (h) Sun 22nd Nov - Not one for the neutral.

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 18:31:00 +0000

I would like to start off with a sincere apology to any neutral fan who forced themselves to watch the Stoke Vs Portsmouth game on Sky this past weekend. It was mind-numbingly boring and quite possibly the least entertaining game you will see on TV in quite some time.

That being said, please bare in mind that as tedious as it was for you, at least you were warm and dry and indifferent to its outcome. Winter arrived in earnest for this game, and due to the Britannia doubling up as a wind tunnel, Saturday was a particularly cold and wet afternoon and one which I was grossly unprepared for.

Newcomers to the Brittania may notice a strange sight on winter match day afternoons as hundreds of Michelin Men plod reluctantly up the pathways to the ground. This is not due to an obesity epidemic striking Stoke-On-Trent, but due to a cunning survival method picked up by long suffering fans. The central tenant of this survival plan being strict adherence to the mantra 'you can never have enough layers'.

Perched on top of a wind-battered hill, and thanks to a complete lack of foresight from it's designers meaning that three of it's corners remain open to the elements, the Britannia Stadium can make a pretty good claim for being the coldest ground in England. Unfortunately for me, I had temporarily taken leave of my senses and decided that 3 layers would be sufficient for this game. Several shivering hours later, as the feeling returned to my hands and nether regions, I reminded myself that for the next 2 or 3 months, 'you can never have enough layers'.

Leaving the meteorological issues aside for now, there remains the issue of the match itself. On the walk to the ground as me and my dad entered into our usual game of predicting the day's team, the grim realisation hit us once again......we know EXACTLY what team Tony Pulis will play today. Pulis is a manager who has built a career around producing solid teams who don't concede. Unfortunately, this can make for fairly gruelling viewing at times and as such, despite his success, Tone has alienated a large portion of our fanbase, who may support the team, but will never support his methods.

As a result of this commitment to producing a robust and 'hard to break down' side, Tone has adopted an infuriating tactic of sidelining most of the creative players we possess. In their place he favours rugged workhorses who will throw themselves into tackles all day long, but unfortunately not add much in the way of goal-scoring threat. As such, grafters such as Dean Whitehead, Salif Diao and Rory Delap are currently three quarters of Tone's preferred midfield. Each of them a solid enough player, but never likely to set the pulses racing. Considering we are at home and facing a dismal Pompey side who are bottom of the League with only 7 points to their name, me and Keeling senior briefly hoped for an attacking and dynamic midfield quartet who will really take the game to the opposition. Tone has other ideas however, 'best keep it tight', he thinks. Best not give too much away.

So while Matthew Etherington retains his place on one wing, (a glimmer of attacking hope in our midfield), there is unfortunately once again no place for Liam Lawrence, Glenn Whelan or Tuncay Sanli. Granted, Whelan picked up a slight groin strain playing for Ireland in the week and Tone didn't want to risk him. Ok, fair enough, I'll give him that one. However, Liam may have played in the week for Ireland as well, but the man is a professional sportsman, and one whose key attribute is his tireless work ethic, could he not of perhaps managed a further 90 minutes 4 days later?

Finally, there is what I will now term the Tuncay conundrum. Tuncay Sanli is the Turkish national team captain and an extremely skilled attacking player. Stoke signed him in the Summer to everyone's surprise for a fee of around £5 Million. To this date, he has yet to start a league game for us. This fact is made all the more confusing when it is taken it account how versatile Tuncay is. Whilst primarily a striker, he is able to function equally as well as an attacking midfielder or even a winger.

However, in order to accommodate Whitehead and Diao in the centre of midfield, Tone needs to find room for the human slingshot that is Rory Delap. Away from home against top opposition, this has some degree of logic to it, as his long throws provide us with a much needed weapon. But you'd like to think we could go without for a home game against weak opposition. Alas, it is not to be under Tone, and so Tuncay Sanli, Turkish national team captain and creative dynamo, is kept on the bench and off the wing in favour of a workhorse central midfielder who could not beat a man and cross a ball if his life depended on it.

As one might imagine with this uninspiring engine room, Stoke lacked any real cutting edge in the first half and forwards Ricardo Fuller and James Beattie were woefully short on service. Now, while I may moan about Tone's midfield team selection, I do nonetheless accept that the players he chooses are of at least a moderate standard. They are all decent enough players who as little as 4 or 5 years ago i'd of been ecstatic to have in our team. However, at times today some of our passing is just plain bad, not unlucky or unfortunate, just bad.

When I watch teams like Arsenal or Chelsea on TV, I often see them break from one end of the pitch to the other with an almost majestic grace and beauty. Pin-point passing and fast, dynamic movement perfectly combine to produce flowing attacking football that as a neutral you can't help but admire. Against Portsmouth, Stoke's counter-attacking effort is more akin to watching the Chuckle Brothers in action. "To me, no to you...oh no we've dropped it". Surely Arsenal and Chelsea's millionaires aren't THAT much better than our boys. They may be better players, but they aren't completely different creatures.

We never really get into second gear in the first half, and the embarrassing lack of 'highlights' from this opening 45 minutes on Match of the Day is testament to the crapness of this half of football. A fine Thomas Sorenson save from a woeful Pompey penalty is about all the excitement we get.

The second half is a better, if still not exhilarating, show from our lot. Soon enough Tone makes a much needed double substitution. Firstly Liam Lawrence is brought on, (looking as sprightly as ever) but who else do we we have on of the bench to provide us with that much needed attacking edge? That's right, you guessed it.....Mama Sidibe.

This move by Tone was never in any doubt to any regular attendee of Stoke's games for the past 2 or 3 seasons. Big Mama is a Tony Pulis favourite, nay, THE Tony Pulis favourite. For several years he proved the basis of our attacking play. Big hoof up to the lofty Mama, he flicks it on and then Fuller beats as many defenders as he can and smacks it in the net. This fool proof plan surprisingly doesn't work quite as well in the Premier League as it did in the Championship. John Terry ET AL find it a bit easier to contain this ingenious tactic.

Many thought Mama would struggle with the step up to the Premier League, but to be fair to him, he's equipped himself reasonably well. Knowing his own limitations, he usually sets about winning as much as he can in the air and holding the ball up as much as possible, whilst leaving the more frivolous footballing jobs such as beating men or, you know, scoring goals, to his team mates.

It is Mama's limitations that contribute to one of the more surreal moments of the game. After a nice bit of interplay between Etherington, Whitehead and Fuller, Ricardo superbly curls home his first goal of the campaign to give us a precious one goal lead. Shortly after, another bit of link up play between Lawrence and Fuller puts Mama through on goal. About 8 yards out, and to the right hand side of the goal, this is a guilt edged chance and one any Premiership striker should slot away with no hesitation. Mama however, manages only to skew the effort well wide and the shot just about manages to avoid going out for a throw. A goal here and the tension is lifted, the supporters can relax slightly (though never too much knowing Stoke), and judging by Pompey's own overwhelming crapness, a win would be all but assured.

So, Mama misses, and what is the crowd reaction? An almost synchronised groan followed by a lighthearted chuckle. That's right, a groan and a chuckle. You can hear people chortling to their mates and noting "that was typical Sidibe" or "ah well, it was Mama" as if it is almost acceptable and all just a big in-joke amongst Stoke fans.

This miss is treated with the same kind of warm reassuring reaction that you give your drunken mate on a Friday night when he drops his kebab on his shoes and falls headfirst into a bush. "Haha, typical Dan, he's harmless really. It wouldn't be a night out without him making a tit of himself". This is the attitude that we Stoke fans have towards Mama. He only be a grafter with limited abilities......but he's OUR grafter with limited abilities. It seemingly wouldn't be a Stoke game without one vintage Mama miss.

Luckily though, we held on for the win. Pompey looked a very poor side and they really are going to struggle if they don't invest in some fresh talent come January. The post-match atmosphere around the ground was one of grudging satisfaction. We got the three points, were 9th in the league, but the dismal performance had hardly set pulses racing. I for one subscribe to the mindset that as long as we win, I don't care too much how we got there. It's games like today that do test this theory however.

If Ricardo hadn't of shown is class in producing a top draw finish, we could very easily of drawn that game 0-0. The mood afterwards would definitely of been markedly different had we drawn with the league's bottom club at home. A result that was certainly not a million miles away from happening.

On Radio Stoke after the game the legendary Stoke commentator Nigel Johnson was conducting his usual interview with Tony Pulis. As always, the gaffer justified his team selection and complemented the lads for working aaaarrrrd. Gingerly warming my hands on the car heaters I almost missed one choice nugget from Tone. Lamenting to Nigel about Tuncay's continued lack of games, Pulis decreed "you can't play Ricardo and Tuncay together in the same team". Come again Tone? You can't play two extremely talented and creative forwards in the same team? I beg to differ. What you mean is, they can't play together in one of YOUR teams.

Now I am not part of the ardent anti-Pulis brigade, after all it's playing Tone's way that got us into the top flight, but lets tell it like it is here. Few other managers would decide there is no way to play two top draw players in the same side as each other simply because one of them isn't capable of playing 'the Mama role'.

It would appear the Tuncay conundrum shows no sign of being solved just yet.

The Mythical 95th Minute Lob

noreply@blogger.com (Rob Keeling) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 09:40:00 +0000

Losing 3-0 at home to Shrewsbury. That was how it all began for me. On a cold, dark and grey (probably) Saturday afternoon back in 1990, aged five years old, that was how I was first introduced to the club that would come to monopolise my weekends for the following two decades.

It was Stoke's first season in the third tier of English football after a disastrous run under Alan Ball the year before. The one man relegation machine had somehow inexplicably kept his job going into the new campaign, but departed half way through what was to prove a disappointing season for Stoke as we limped home to a paltry 15th place finish.

It would be very easy for me to say that the proceeding twenty years followed in the dismal footsteps of that bleak Saturday back in 1990, but if I’m honest, supporting Stoke has provided it's fair share of highs along the way, as well as some pitiful lows.

For every 7-0 thrashing at the hands of Birmingham there is a last minute play-off victory over Cardiff. For every 0-0 draw at home against Nuneaton Borough in the FA cup, there's beating Man United at home 2-1 in the League cup. Three promotions and two Autoglass/Autowindscreen victories(whoever the unglamorous sponsor of this prestigious cup competition was at the time) aren't a bad haul across nineteen odd seasons, especially when balanced against only one relegation in the same period.

Even in seasons where we don't really achieve anything, we quite often still manage to instill a bit of drama into the proceedings, be it a couple of unsuccessful dalliances with the play offs, or narrowly avoiding relegation on the last game of the season. In this respect, I suppose it has been quite exciting to support Stoke and taking my 20 years of support as a collective whole, it sounds like a veritable thrill ride compared to some other clubs.

But this is the problem with only examining the highlights of something, it disregards the long periods of tedium where nothing of note really happens. It's like when you see a trailer for a new film where you know they have just shown you the four or five best bits out of two hours of predictable drivel.

It is these moments of predictable drivel that really test the patience of the football fan. It's easy to keep going back week after week when your team is running away with the league and in all likelihood going to win the majority of their matches. What really tests your loyalty, whoever you support, is whether you can still drag your beleaguered body, all hungover and weary, down to a drafty stadium with a few other hardy souls on a chilly winter's evening to see your heroes struggle once again against an away team whose own stature is best exemplified by their possession of an away following which could literally of come in a taxi.

So why do we do it? For me it's a combination of three things: enjoyment, blind loyalty and a perpetual fear of missing out.

In the first instance, one thing's for sure, supporting Stoke is often far from enjoyable. I am a firm subscriber to the mantra however that you've got to be there for the bad times to fully appreciate the good. The buzz experienced after a last minute winner can only truly be appreciated if you are there yourself to witness the other 89 minutes of nail biting action (ahem) in person.

Surviving relegation on the last day of the season back in 2003 was greeted with wild scenes of celebration hitherto rarely seen at Fortress Britannia. This hard earned 1-0 win over Reading is all that sticks in the memory from that grim campaign, with the memory of the other 45 forgettable games discarded thanks to this glorious 90 minutes. The elation of surviving relegation in this manner was made all the more sweeter by the fact that I knew I'd earned that victory. After sitting through the misery that constituted the vast majority of the previous 22 home games, this rare moment of joy was the much needed pay off that made the rest of the season worthwhile.

Blind loyalty on the other hand is hard to explain in words, it's just a feeling that develops over years of continual match attendance, a feeling that you really ought to be at the game. You owe it to to the club. Quite where this feeling comes from, I cannot explain, but if you miss too many games, you can develop a genuine sense of guilt at letting the team down. That and you run the risk of being labelled a 'part-time fan' by disappointed family members.

Then finally there's that eternal fear of missing out on something special. Every game, before those 22 cretins kick off and balls it all up, has the potential to be great. How can you possibly know that this won't be the day where you come back from 3-0 down to score four goals in the last ten minutes including a bicycle-kicked lob from the centre circle in the 95th minute to seal the win? Granted if you'd of seen a forward line of Richard Cresswell and Vincent Pericard play you would of been fairly secure in the assumption that this wouldn't happen....but you can never know for certain. Despite their best efforts, the match day experience can never truly be replaced by TV and the Internet, the special feeling you get from being their in person can never be matched.

The dream of that 95th minute lob never goes away, and at some point, it will happen.

I guess the bottom line is that if you go to watch football regularly, it becomes an unavoidable part of your routine. Without it, your weekends feel empty and trivial. Summer's are by and large merely a barren wasteland for football fans where repetitive weekends roll by filled only by menial tasks and feigning interest in lesser sports like rugby or cricket. The bizarre enthusiasm that greets the start of transfer speculation season in mid June is the clearest sign of the desperation to fill the void.

For me, it's hard to imagine a football season existing and me not attending most if not all of Stoke's home games. It has become a crucial part of my routine and a massive part of my life. As such, I felt it was about time I made my own attempt to chronicle the emotional rollercoaster that accompanies supporting a football team and give my own take on the strange beast that is the football fan.