Cardiff 2 Wolves 0
A win. A clean sheet. Cardiff playing like a team and dominating the match ...again.
So what are to make of this?
It is the same bunch of players give or take an Ameobi, the
same manager and the same team. Yes, I have checked, there is only one Russell
Slade. It is the same crowd, though minus about 10,000 stop at homes.
Yet totally a different result.
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| Continue to play like that and you will be a Cardiff legend. Kenwyne reminds us of his amazing talents. |
Fulham wasn’t a flash in the pan; these players do seem to
have some idea, guts and hwyl. They play for 90 minutes just like they did for
Malky, they keep on playing for each other as if they all get along like old
muckers, and just to demonstrate the new team spirit picture this: when Fabio is
dragged off because he can barely walk, he and Russell engage in a huge man-hug,
like long lost father and son.
Even the hard to please city fans asked Russell to do the Ayatollah.
This, for the uninitiated, is the equivalent to being invited to join the
Masons. So before Russell rolls up his trouser leg let us analyse what has happened.
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| Ameobi scores a great goal, but more importantly makes an impact. |
Hmmm. Same players. Same coach. Same team. Same 4-4-2
tactics yet different results.
Instead of despondently hoofing the ball up field and picking
the ball out of the back of our net we are looking, dare I say it, lethal? Well
ok, maybe not Barcelona lethal but we can at last threaten to score. Oh and
keep a clean sheet. When was the last time Cardiff City looked like that?
Now I could be cynical, and being a Cardiff City Fan I am uniquely
qualified to exhibit cynicism. I could point out that Russell could have played
anyone but the ineffectual Revel from game one but I won’t be Mister Nitpicky
from Abernitpicky. We have drawn three and won one. Not exactly promotion form
for sure, but it is the attitude and direction of the team that is getting us
excited.
Not only are we not in the middle of the table but we are a
few more wins from being top of the table.
Just like the game against Fulham the crowd stayed to the
end with a smile on our faces. Remember the dark old days when the stadium would
start to empty at half time? When the Clark pie shop might as well have closed its
grills before half time? When the full time whistle emptied around an empty
graveyard of a ground. Even the police and officials had departed.
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| The man who has done a deal with ... |
Clearly the only difference is that Russell Slade has learnt
what to coach his players or else has sold his soul to the devil. Hmm which
one? Perhaps it has taken him this long to learn about the championship. Maybe
he discovered the book ‘Championship for dummies,’ in a used book shop in Barry
Island.
Something has changed.
Ok, ok, there is this Paul Trollope guy who certainly is
good enough to be appointed as coach to the Wales national squad. Whoa. Before
anyone hoists Trollope onto their shoulders, claiming him to be the messiah,
please bare this in mind …
A long time ago, when this country had its own indigenous car
industry, when Trade Union barons ruled the country, when tele was in black and
white, Man city were very successful. They were managed by the avuncular Joe Mercer
and coached by the young tyrant Malcom Allison - that is when Allison had his
trousers pulled up and wasn’t shagging everyone’s wife. So the fable became known
throughout the land that Mercer was just the front guy, the stooge, holding
back the mercurial talents of Allison. So one day Joe moved on and Malcom
Allison became manager. And yes you’ve guessed it. Manchester City collapsed to
the ground faster than an Italian striker when slightly touched on the back. Allison
wasted a fortune on youngsters and Man City became a shadow of their former selves.
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'Everybody thought I'd be down the road by now but we're in good shape,' declares Russ. A little early for gloating maybe, but if you are still here at Christmas then feel free to gloat. City fans will cheer you on as you do. |
So the point of the story? Do not pick and choose between
them. Russell and Trollop and Young and everyone else are part of a coaching
team that is, right now, successful, so don’t spoil it. Let us see where we are
by mid-September.
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| Robert Johnson after he sold his soul |
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| Was she the soul dealer? |
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| Tiger Bay as Satan moves through looking for his Clarke's pie |
And my conclusion? Yes, Russell Slade sold his soul to the
devil at a crossroads in the old Tiger Bay, not to the screaming strains of
twelve bar Robert Johnson but to a ballad belted out by Dame Shirley Bassey.
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