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BIRMINGHAM HOME 11-9-04
Written by Andy 'Spare me the Details' Morgan
It was more on a whim really rather than anything planned. A whim that was going to cost me money that I didn’t have but alas, my warped form of logic still thought it was worth it. Indeed this was probably the same logic that infected Steve McClaren’s mind when he picked up the Bolton pie muncher for a ‘bargain’ £3.5m.
Although at least in this case it could have been a bargain for someone, namely Newboulds, had they decided to sponsor the shirt of Ricketts throughout last season’s campaign. Whether he would be a good advertisement however is still open to debate as in this fast living multi-media BBC3- ‘innit’ world, unless it is a scantily clad nubile young filly with her gob around a package of greasy stodge then strangely no one seems to want to know, even if their pies are the most succulent and cholesterol laden in the country. But anyway I digress as I had another pie scoffing donkey to entertain me today, a mule that was so nearly ours until Birmingham stepped in and performed our best piece of transfer business of the close season. Of course I am referring to England’s ‘finest’ Emile Heskey, released from his harness next to the M57 and thrown out by the well-known ‘Scouser Travelling Circus’ to join what Steve Bruce described as ‘the greatest show on Earth’, based in Birmingham. Obviously he was going as the fantastically unfunny clown to that fancy dress party then. Thus it was under these auspices and a good imbibing of hallucinogenic smog that I found myself down at the North Stand ticket office at 1.30pm handing over my groaning credit card and anticipating an interesting encounter between one of the teams that are expecting to be challenging us for a top six position come May. Thus the result was important, not least because it could go either way. Thankfully it was us who were to obtain the points.
With time to kill I ambled around the stadium soaking up the smog, erm, I mean atmosphere - thankfully the club haven’t banned it from outside the stadium yet - and caught a glimpse of arguably our two best signings so far, Hasselbaink and Parlour, on their way into the stadium. What struck me here was not how well turned out Jimmy looks in a suit but the professionalism of both players as they gladly signed autographs for the hoards of street urchins baying for their signatures like wolves around their carrion. Only with less blood and fur. Although having said that, if we include the pre match burgers in the scene then I am not too sure…
After checking my wallet and seeing that I had no cash for the finest quality filth and rip-off tat money can buy I decided a trip to the cash machine was in order. After which I inexplicably found myself in a pub with a beer in my hand talking to some fellow fans. The happiness of coincidence aye? Or did I just arrange to meet a mate there by accident? Anyway, off to the ground and anticipation was welling up inside me- would I see Heskey stay on his feet, would I see Steve Bruce animated and, most unlikely, would I see Robbie Savage without his pacifier and baby’s bib? The excitement was palpable I can tell you. Palpable. The heart was thunderously beating, which is more than can be said for the travelling fans who I think died sometime before the match and didn’t really ever wake up again. Still, the South Stand I am pleased to say almost matched them in their quiescence.
Cue the first half and I quickly realised it was going to be a quiet one. Or at least a quiet one in the West Stand Lower where people looked at me in incredulity for daring to raise my voice higher than a whisper. Thank God for the fan sat to my left who, along with myself, tried to rival the North Stand for noise. At least it did not make me feel like a complete prannet and a sole source of irritation to all those mutes sat around me for daring to support the team I love. The first half was constant Boro pressure, with only the bizarre decisions being beamed to the referee from Planet Poll breaking up the flow of the game. Indeed some of these decisions were so inexplicable that I can only conclude that rationality does not appear to be on the syllabus of modern referees as the niggly challenges he blew for whilst the blatant ones he ignored was the bane of what was largely an enjoyable half. And with our constant pressure, the main difference between last season and this was highlighted- we looked like we could get a goal and indeed we were expecting one.
Mark Viduka duly delivered. The move was class and the symbol of a symbiotic partnership. The movement was thoughtful, Hasselbaink’s through-ball inch perfect and with Viduka in that position you knew he was going to score. And he did. 1-0 Boro. And then the signals from Planet Poll started messing with the referee’s brain as decision after decision went against us, culminating in his ignorance of Heskey’s handball for their equaliser. It had to be Heskey, a player we were once linked with and a player who would probably fit in perfectly well at the impoverished Yorkshire sperm bank down the road- lonely, impossible to score and almost always a disappointment when you do. Still our defence was caught flat-footed and, although I can complain, we were the architects of our own downfall in all honesty. After which and a few minutes of largely inconsequential play the halftime whistle blew to a chorus of boos, which probably scrambled the signals coming into Poll as after that he had a good game. In the meantime us Boro fans stormed off in disbelief that we were still only level in this game.
But how we started the second half. Flicks, tricks and beautiful football. We were confident we’d get another, we were now optimistic of our strikeforce and they did not fail to deliver. Except we weren’t expecting it quite so soon. Zenden throws in from the left and it gets cleared back out to him. And then you just had this feeling we were going to score, despite the ball being all the way on the touchline. In anticipation, Zenden launches it back in perfectly. Viduka nonchalantly heads it in for ours, and his second of the game. Suddenly things were looking up again. Suddenly justice had been served.
But then they pressurised. The goal seemed to knock our stride and we invited them to attack more, although in reality Schwarzer had very little to do beyond the odd comfortable save. And as the match went on, we adopted an even more defensive policy. Viduka came off for Doriva, a move that may have been to conserve him for the UEFA cup-tie, Viduka having done his work with aplomb. But then another goal to put daylight between us and City would have helped, I certainly had an 'Aston Villa last season' feeling in my stomach and they put us under pressure to score in a big way right at the end. And what better person to try and get a goal than a confident player on his hat-trick? Although we won the game so maybe it was the right decision. But either way, once the whistle went for full-time that was it, fourth in the league and a genuine belief that we can stay there. We had beaten one of the teams we are competing with and, in the end, beaten them quite comfortably. Maybe this is our season. Only time will tell I suppose. Onwards towards the Scouseland…
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