Fulham, the Smurff song and a lump of granite and ice

Fulham 1 Cardiff 1.

It was the best of times and it was the worst of times.

Let’s get the worst of times out of the way while we can still weep.

The first half performance of Cardiff’s was poor. Hmmm. Ok it was crap. If it was an animal we would have it put down and been relieved to see it put out of its suffering. 

We couldn’t keep the ball, we couldn’t pass, and we didn’t look like we had played football before.

Fulham on the back of three successive defeats couldn’t believe their luck as Cardiff gave them space and opportunity. We conceded one goal but in truth it could have been a hatful, and I mean a pretty big hat for all the goals they ought to have scored.

When it isn’t happening for City the supporters sink into their bitterness. Like Smurffs they would always be blue and was that a Malky MacKay song I heard? Clearly there are many who not yet over the Malky bereavement.

they're singing my song

The bright spot? Good chasing down up front. Anything else? Hmmm. No.

Fulham had so much space in midfield they could have opened a car park. McCormack showed why he is worth a lot of money, maybe not £11 million mind. He worked hard in the first half, contributing to their goal and could have scored a few himself.

The City midfield was disjointed, as if the manager was changing it every week - as if! Surely no one would do that would they Ole?

Then the second half, and, as ever in soccer, it was a different match. Cardiff played with purpose.

They took off Dikgacoi, which they could have done in the first half and played with ten men without anyone noticing the difference. Suddenly we were more solid in midfield and Whits and Daehli could work their considerable magic.

Daehli is blessed with an overload of footballing talent, we will be lucky to hang onto him if we don’t get promoted. But, heavens above, can’t he pass a ball to another red shirted player? Is he trying too hard? Is he looking for the million dollar pass when the 15 pence one from an all-night City Road newsagent would get him more?

In fact just as you were wondering if he would complete a good pass he controls a difficult ball, brilliantly, as only he can, and makes a pass of such distinction the Queen should give it its own award for services to football.

And just as you wonder if Kenwynne will actually do anything other than soak up the adulation from the Cardiff fans, so he receives the beautiful, award winning Daehli pass before finishing it lethally. A true goal scorerer.

There are times when you wonder what Kenwynne is doing on the pitch but then you see the goal scoring list from the first 5 matches and say ah, yeh, keep it up Kenwynne.

I think that next valentine’s day Malky Mackay and Kenwynne should get an extra-large letterbox fitted to their front doors. Ready for the loving, adoring cards from Cardiff fans

One all.

Suddenly everyone is up for it. The city players, the fans. there's no one better than Cardiff fans. It sounded like a home match at times.

We could have achieved 3 points here. Oh, yeh and so could Fulham, so let us be grateful.

With a draw being the safer option Solskjaer took off the forward thinking Daehli and put on Eikrem. 

Eikrem soon settled into the Cardiff style of play by being unable to pass.

So we gain a point. 

If we win our home games and draw our away games that should put is in the mix for promotion or at the very least a dreaded playoff spot.

But right now we are Championship middle of the table side. This squad of players should surely be higher.

We learned that Brayford, Connolly and Morrison should have their berths nailed down.

Fabio bounces between being brilliant and poor. I have never seen anyone be such a buzz moving the ball from defence up the field but then so disappointing in passing. 

We learned that it is a good thing Dikagacoi is a big bloke else you will be wondering if he was on the pitch. Though I remember him from Crystal Palace so know he will play better.

The biggest news from this match is that Ralls and Macheda are class. To be able to bring on two game changing players like those will earn Cardiff points across the season. 

what we need in midfield

Final thought. What we were missing was a gritty Icelandic midfielder. A man hewn from the depths of the icy granite in that far off inhospitable plane of volcanoes, ice and banking debt. A short bearded guy who can win balls, move box to box and play in front of the defence and behind the strike force all within the space of a minute. When Gunnarson doesn’t play we look vacant in midfield. I have been saying this for three and a half years. If mister Tan is looking for another manager I will send him my agent’s details.

Ched Evans, mob rule and 60,000 self-righteous saints

I have nothing against the individuals who make up mobs.

Usually they are wonderful people, kind to children and animals and donate money to Children in Need. It is the mob with its collective wrath and mindless rage that I both fear and despise.

Ched Evans is about to be released from prison into the hands of a mob who want to punish him further and no one dares face the mob. 

The basic tenant of civilised behaviour is to use the police and legal system to catch and punish an offender. Without the law we would be like animals or Millwall fans. 

Mankind can only function in one of two ways in reacting to criminal actions:

1. A person is accused of a crime, the police create a case, a jury of ordinary folk listen to professionals present both sides before offering a decision of guilt or innocence. A judge will use his experience to determine a punishment. The offender serves the sentence, is rehabilitated, before being released to make something of the remaining years of his life as a functioning part of society.

Or …

2. You have mobs armed with pitch forks and torches storming the castle in a scream of self-righteous piety, ready to condemn anyone they believe have offended their view of the world. The accused is punished in a manner that is satisfactory to the mob. The mob tell themselves they are right and anyone who challenges their nasty outlook is wrong. Always wrong.

Now call me a namby pamby wet Guardian reading liberal (which I am not) but I kinda trust the first method. Don’t tell me about its flaws and inadequacies because, despite them, it remains the best means a civilised society can have to protect its values - and protect you and your loved ones.

Obviously the second method could create employment for noose makers and Funeral parlours. But you know what? I reckon I am happy with a few more on the unemployed lists and few less buried in shallow graves.

The law is particularly harsh to self-appointed vigilantes, and so it should be. Vigilantes are the most fearsome side of humanity.

So Ched Evans is released from prison and powerful lobbying groups have him in their sights. They need to punish him further. Is this true of anyone who commits any offence? Or just a footballer who commits rape? 

Are their groups standing outside prisons as a murderer is released squealing that he shouldn’t be allowed to have a job? Where does this end? A forger? A shop lifter? A drug user? A parking offender? 

Should we forget about rehabilitation all together? Why bother with courts when we can use petitions to decide the punishment of a miscreant?

Once a mob is roused it is impossible to quell. 

60,000 self-righteous saints, who have never done anything wrong in their lives, have signed a petition to say Ched Evans ought not be rehabilitated, ie allowed to function in society. Rather he should be left to gather berries on the roadside and use a Guardian Supplement to keep him and his family dry in winter. 

It will be impossible to put this cork back in the bottle. The mob is out and they smell blood because no one dares stand in their path lest they be trampled too.

Solskjaer’s Tinkering, Moaners and the Roath High School for Girls.

Solskjaer’s Tinkering, Moaners and the Roath High School for Girls.

The great thing about being a Cardiff City supporter is the moaning. You should have heard me moaning about Jimmy Scholar’s teams back in the sixties as we beat Real Madrid and came close to promotion to the first division. Yes youngsters, THAT Real Madrid.

So here come today’s moans. Why change a winning team? Why tinker and then tinker some more and then, oh yes, do more tinkering?

Ok members of the jury, here we go with the reasons for the tinkering.

Solskjaer grew up at Man Utd. His daddy was Alex Fergusson. Fergie would look at his huge, talented, over paid squad and keep them all primed. No one knew what tactics he would play - I am not sure he always did. By dint of sheer personality, whoever he put out on the pitch in whatever formation, would generally get a result.

This meant players were kept on their toes. No one could second guess the bosses views, no one could think they were indispensable. You ask Dwight Yorke who thought Fergie was joking when he dropped him for cavorting with a model on the front pages of the tabloids. Yorke spent the rest of the season in the reserves. 

From Fergie’s point of view, he saw each of his squad in a battle situation.

Training tells you how good people are at training. We all know kids on the school park who have the magical twinkle toes. They can do this and they can do that, but lack the bottle for an actual match.

Solskjaer is able to see how these guys play in front of a baying mob, how they react when going a goal down or if they still hungry for the ball after a tough challenge. And well done Whits for getting up after the x certificate challenges you have been through.

He can see how different players interact with each other.

Connolly and Morrison worked against Wigan, in fact more than worked, they were brilliant. But what about Hudson and Morrison? Ok let’s take a look at them at Wolves. And you know what? Just as solid.

This is a long season. There will be injuries, suspensions, fitness issues, back to back skirmishes and casualties - and that is just getting past the beefburger and beer stalls under the Canton stand.

This is a big squad. You can see how big it is when you recall how Dave Jones couldn’t even summon 11 Cardiff City players for the last two months of his final season. He would have borrowed players from the Roath High School girl’s squad if he could - BTW, they turned him down as it was exam time.

Midfield genius of the Roath High School Girl's team 2004-2006 and not a gratuitous pic of a sexy girl at all.

Solskjaer, for the first time in living memory, is a City manager who can actually choose a team for a particular game - just like his mentor Fergie. For sure we don’t have a Beckham or Giggs or Scholes or Cantana but we have players who would walk into most teams in the championship.

So far his game plan has worked ok. It would have worked brilliantly if Wolves hadn’t pulled off a great save from Kenwynne and scored an improbable one off own goal from the foot of mister reliable, Mark Hudson.

So whilst the selection plan is working we ease off the guy, we support him. If the choices aren’t working then we support him a bit louder. If we get to the Promised Land of the Premiership we will have done so by riding on the back of an amiable Norwegian with a Mister Bean smile.  He will be a bigger hero for doing it his way.

Now if you want to moan: can those damned supporters, who suddenly remember they need to be somewhere else ten minutes before a game ends, just shift their fat arses and get out a bit quicker! Some of us have come to see a football match.

Wolves 1-0, what a child of 2 knows and City fans keep forgetting

Wolves 1 Cardiff a big fat zero.

By the age of 2 and a half every child learns the truth about life: it ain’t fair.

And no it ain’t. 

It's just that Cardiff fans keep forgetting this. So here is the latest reminder.

What does he know that those below keep forgetting?

Having weathered the Wolves storm in the first half Solskjaer did his bit of fiddling and made us more competitive in the second, well, ok we actually looked as if we had turned up in the second half.

Before that Wolves, when they weren’t kicking the ball, which was most of the time, should have been kicking themselves. They should have scored a few times. Cardiff rode their luck and the ball rode the wood work.

As Wolves were playing a team that weren't going to bother closing them down they enjoyed the freedom to practice their training ground routines. They could also have enjoyed a quiet cuppa and a chat about the weather.

With the second half changes came chances.  Maybe Kenwynne should have added to his tally.

But with the 90 minutes up the score remained at a satisfactory 0-0. Many Wolves fans were already driving out of the ground or queuing for the bus grumbling that life just ain't fair. The game was fizzling out with the promise of the referee blowing his whistle holding any promise of excitement.

It was then that the three year old’s cries could be heard from Molineux to Canton, (Canton just past the Castle, not the other Canton.) Hudson, the most reliable man in the known Universe, sliced a clearance. The Gods ensured the ball would hit the post and somehow trickle over the line. We were one minute into injury time. One minute! Hudson! Slicing a ball! Hitting the post! Going in. How unlucky is that?

Wolves 1 nil.

My view of these three matches, (Wolves and Fulham away with Norwich at home), was that we would be ok to get 3 points across the lot and feel smugly pleased with ourselves if we took 5 or more.

Please, let no one think that Fulham are down and out simply because they are lying flat on their backs at the bottom of the ocean like a dead, ancient whale. These are early days. They have some good players and will be driven on by a tough minded, experienced manager.

With Norwich clearly contenders to win the championship let’s now say at least 3 points from the next two games, but four would be good, any more would be worth a major celebration.

But there again, life just ain’t fair.

A corpse stuck in a chimney, Malky and Tan wielding the knife

Like the majority of City fans I regard Malky as a hero.

His acquisitions were bang on the money. The team he built took city to a cup final against Liverpool along with promotion from the Championship. All inside two short seasons.

This was ecstatic bliss after the dour, bitterly disappointing Dave Jones years - though I still contend that Jones was unlucky.

If a manager and owner fallout there is only one victor. And as Terry Venables discovered during his run in with Alan Sugar at Spurs, the owner plays the final card no matter how great the feelings of the fans.

Malky could play the fans like no manager we have seen. He tickled us under the chin and told us how wonderful we were, and we loved it. He may have used the same tactics to motivate his players. And fair enough. He was in the results business.

But Tan like Sugar appear to be suggesting that each of the managers weren’t so much incompetent as less than honourable - and my team of lawyers are gathered over my shoulder as I write these words.

If it has reached a stage where Cardiff have sent a report to the FA about Malky then those contents should be shared with those of us who cough up our hard earned at the gate.

We deserve to know and we need to know.

As politicians would advise Tan, being ‘right’ in knocking out a leader won’t make you a hero. He who wields the knife rarely wears the crown. Destroying Malky, even if warranted, will hang around the club for years like a corpse stuck in the chimney.

It will stink.

Malky had apologised to Tan in a letter ending threats of legal action between them. That ‘apology’ raised eyebrows at the time and in all honesty the eyebrows haven’t fallen since that time.

Personally I have never thought that successful men in any field are 100% straightforward. The footballing managerial giants of the 1970s and 80s were proven to have had their hands in the tills. 

The word ‘bung’ emerged along with tales of money changing hands at motorway service stations. People who at the time dominated soccer like Revie, Clough and George Graham were all tainted.

Not saying that Cardiff’s problem with Malky is money just pointing out that the best in their time were underhand for personal reasons.

But of course the fans don’t care. Whatever it takes, we might say. We don’t want saints, we want winners. If those winners get caught out then that is their tough luck.

But now Vincent must share it all with the rest of us. It’s like being at a family funeral with people shaking their heads and muttering dark thoughts about good ol’ Uncle Dick. We need to know and we need to know now.