Cardiff worthy of their punch in the Plymouth.

By: Martyn | November 25th, 2008

Unfortunately (or fortunately) I missed Saturday’s Bluebirds game as I was in Florence watching Fiorentina beat Udinese 4-2. The latter was a game so exciting that it sent Lippi loopy! The Plymouth-Cardiff game was being screened on Sky Sports, but the only bar we could find that was open and showing football had opted instead to appease seemingly the only Irishman in Italy by screening St. Mirren-Celtic. Now Nakamura’s goal was indeed rather sumptuous, but getting endless floods of text messages from those watching the more relevant game back home did give me some major City withdrawal symptoms. Come 15:30 Italian time and the end of the City game however I was somewhat more content with the fact that I’d missed my team’s 18th league fixture of the season. We were by all accounts, horrendous. Utter poo. I’ve seen the goals we conceded and they were bad enough. But apparently not even they could depict just how woeful we were. A gloating Bristol City fan had stumbled into the pub in time to watch England take on South Africa in a sport that involves chasing and running with an egg and tugging on men with love handles anywhere you can whilst hordes of lardy baldies in ill-fitting replica jerseys and fiendishly odd middle-aged women with smeared face paint pay ridicuous amounts to freeze their bollocks off and watch. We shot down his incoherent West Country drawlings with a rendition of Joe Dolce’s pseudo-xenophobic sole hit. Where/what else, eh? He may have been the type of chap who talks at lengths with romantic notions people normally reserve for fellow human beings about Guiness and how it’s better in Ireland and (snore…), but it seemed it was our entire team on show that nippy afternoon in Home Park who’d been indulging in the thick black stout. Reaction to the game from those in the shorts, the manager’s club forked-out for suit, and those writing about it ranged from Dave Jones threatening to become a lumberjack, and the players spouting the usual garbage about putting stuff to the polar opposite of left in the next match

The chief soccer writer in the local press – so oft banned by the powers that be at Ninian Park – went for the sort of safe mocking tone and derision that metaphorically slaps the players rather than giving them the sort of ass-kicking you’d give someone with no hands and the controller glued to their lap on Tekken. And other than calling McPhail ‘anonymous’ and complaining that he sat far too deep (things he’s been doing for the last 3 years nigh-on every game), Terry Phillips only went as far as saying he needs a rest. He doesn’t need 40 winks, that’s for sure: A human sized catapult aiming for anywhere other than the city of Cardiff would be far more appropriate. Sell him to another Championship outfit for all I care, he’ll never come back to haunt us. He can’t pass, he wants far too long on the ball, he NEVER scores, and he’s just not very good. I wouldn’t be too upset if we even got rid of him on a free transfer, as stupid and reactionist as getting rid of a first-XI midfielder for no fee may seem.

Another writer, Steve Tucker, offered a far more accurate summary of the game – typo’s included as per – and the piece definitely doubled up as an allegory for our season so far. His criticism of Johnson, Roger was especially pleasing to read. Many City fans overlook Johnson’s major errors that seriously blight his and the team’s game because he’s the epitome of badge-kissing, flailing arms in the air to ‘pump’ up the crowd, crunching-tackle making modern footballer. Perhaps by being brought back down to earth (which could start tonight if Gyepes takes his place – by the by, I’m gonna guess that all the noises about Bothroyd and McCormack, Doyle’s competitor for top-scorer crown, returning tonight are mere mind games). Nevertheless, his refusal to include Tom Heaton in the list of our duds is a point which I entirely disagree with. Heaton, along with McPhail has been our most useless player so far this campaign.

So thoughts now turn to tonight’s game with Reading. The wank Yank begs for another chance. Pfft. We’re told of how we aspire to be like [insert name here], a team that has just dropped down from the EPL. And positives are still be clinged upon in spite of the fact we’re yet to truly play well this season. Yes, we might be in 6th but that says far more about the awful standard of the league this season. If someone other than Wolves, Reading or Birmingham scrambles their way out of the division this season then the Derby County of 2007/2008 will seem like world-beaters. No lie.

Anyhow, 3-1 Reading tonight. Oh well.