More from the ‘bitter and twisted’ …
West Brom’s first goal is a fluke. A lopping, mindless, over
the shoulder cross that manages to loop over Marshall while the crowd are still
taking their seats and checking the program notes.
Their second is an attempted cross which deflects off a Cardiff
player over the defence and somehow lands at a West Brom attackers feet. Matej
Vydra gains the easiest ‘assist’ since a dad rolled the ball to the feet of his
two year old son to stumble over the line.
the kid who might have started the fight back |
With only ten minutes on the clock, not only did Cardiff look
dead and buried but the mourners were
polishing off the dried up sandwiches, shaking their heads and saying he weren’t
such a bad old sod.
Then Cardiff woke up, the way a teenager might be dragged
from his cozy bed at eleven in the morning. Reluctantly and slowly the wheels
were refitted to the team in red and the battering of the Baggies goals
recommenced.
Mutch scored a goal straight out of the Brazilian handbook
of the 1970s. Thirty five yards out, with so much time a Tibetan monk would
have looked rushed, he lined up a sublime curling shot out of the reach of the England
international goalkeeper Ben Foster. A wonder goal that the tv commentator perceptively
described as the third lucky goal of the match. Twat.
Solskjaer performed his usual touch of creating further
anxiety in Cardiff supporters, who are already beyond the help of any therapist,
by taking off a defender and putting on an out and out striker (Zaha for the
Fabio). Surely too early boss?
The onslaught began. The meters once showing West Brom with
nearly all the possession seesawed the other way. Cardiff not only had the ball
but seemed to have acquired composure. Caulker puts away a header that will add
another million to his value when the season finishes.
Two all, with Cardiff dominating play with a nonstop attack.
City supporters know just one thing: West Brom will score in the last minute of
injury time. As sure as eggs are, well, a possible carrier of salmonella.
Yep.
In the 94th minute Bifouma Koulossa, (that isn’t a typo or
an unfortunate collection of scrabble letters), scores the expected last ditch
goal to crush the souls of the Bluebirds. Just as we knew, just as we always
expected. So we are defeated by two jammy goals and one scored with the last
kick
But this is football.
The referee has the whistle in his mouth, city attack, the
ball goes into the penalty area and, take your hands off your eyes, Daehli scores
a goal that might, whisper it quietly, just might, keep us up.
So before you can say how the fucking hell did Crystal
palace beat Chelsea to get a nostril above the water line, Cardiff find themselves
3 points behind West Brom and move up to third from bottom. If we get three more
wins I reckon we could be safe, it might even take two.
Get your quack to check your heart and ready yourself for the
must win Crystal Palace match.