halfaperson
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Hereford Utd (a) 17th Feb 2009Leaving the still snow covered ridges of the East Pennines towards Leeds there was definitely the merest tinge of an oncoming change of seasons. Spring bulbs were peeping above the melting snow, gutters were gently dripping and birds twittered (in the true sense of the word ) as they too detected a turning point. How could I not be setting off with optimism as winters harshness seemed finally on the retreat? Of course that optimism revolved around Leeds Uniteds ability to mirror Mother Nature and break through a tough winters adversity. Sadly Relying on Leeds United for anything other than grief and disappointment these days is misplaced trust of the highest order.
We got their bang on 6 through the rolling hills of the surrounding country side in time for a few in a horrendous pub called JDs, Here’s a little lesson for all pub singers, it starts Every DAY (not Everywhere) we’re all gonna say we love you Leeds…… then Every WHERE We’re gonna be there. It is quite important.
Back to the Stadium (irony intended) our all standing end partitioned in two halves by an ugly fence led to a running track and a fence also populated by Leeds Fans. Then a shallow standing two tiered terrace down the side ensured we were in at least 6 separate smaller sections. Not very conducive at all to mass unified chanting, one brave soul did see fit to remove his shirt to complete the shirtless, short wearing sockless beach look popular amongst the beaches of Bondi but a little ridiculous in February Britain. The teams came out to possibly the worst club song ive ever heard made more irritating by it spinning round on an endless loop.
We started the game attacking our end and we seemed to take up were we left off at the Galpharm. Howson was given his chance to shine in the central role, Parker in at Left Back with Dickinson the more talented/experienced/expendable player selected to cover at Right Back.
Naylor immediately hit a shot to announce our intentions. Robbo made good progress down the right only to hit a cross straight at the keeper and in general we were in control. Hereford got a free kick around our box which was blocked only for the rebound to be hit first time and skyed way over the bar. I imagine that isn’t the first time the Ghost Of Ronnie Radford has enticed an effort like that in that famous end of the ground.
For once we seemed to have a ref who held no grudge towards Long Haired South Americans and was given Lucciano plenty of decisions much to the disgruntlement of the locals who didn’t see it the same way to our left next to the side contingent of Leeds Fans. The only problem though was the criminal waste of the free kicks as we lumped aimless balls into the box only to lose the second ball when it came out again.
As always we were susceptible on the break especially when shooting ourselves in the foot as Snoddy did when he gave a ridiculous pass right only to find their fast tricky left winger no 31 who promptly skinned three of our players and sped towards goal. Thankfully he shot over, but it was a danger sign.
Fab was his usual busy self but he was getting himself into cul de sacs when an earlier simple ball would have been the better bet. He too was guilty of finding a Hereford shirt when he attempted an over elaborate pass. Once again he was peppering his play with nippy sliding tackles that some refs just do not like. Last nights was quite good I thought but even he saw fit to warn him.
Just as our attacks were thinning out and the game entered a stalemate Robbo and Snoddy swapped wings which I thought was a good move. For a while we recovered some impetus but still very little in the way of clear cut chances. Just like Saturday Becchio and Trundle were operating like they hated each other. Fab tried his best to inject some energy in the middle but again was getting his options wrong, perfectly illustrated when he tried a chip over the top instead of an edge of the box shot.
Finally our advanced edge of the area positions we were finding ourselves in paid off, a clever 1-2 between Trundle and Robbo resulted in him been fouled to give us the penalty and a perhaps up to that point a deserved lead. Surely there would not be a repeat of Brighton as Trundle stepped up for what looked a cleanly hit shot. I couldn’t see the save for the gate post but the lack of movement of the net and no noise to our right told me all I needed to know.
The universal disappointment in the crowd and the visible change in body language of the players seemed like one of those moments where whole swages of the future hinge. It is true from that moment on we became perhaps the poorest rag and bob tailed collection of below average players I’ve yet to see on this division. The full horror of what unfolded will remain with those travelling fans for a very long while and a bit more about that later.
Hereford of course couldn’t believe their luck and took full advantage. The earlier danger signs were left unheeded and their unmarked 31 received a pass in acres of space. This time there was no mistake as he drilled home a diagonal shot to put them ahead and complete a diabolical few minutes. The half ended with a half hearted appeal for a handball penalty that was never going to happen and left us wondering if the long journey home was going to be without gratification. Something none of us were contemplating on the journey down.
The second half got underway with no apparent change in line up or tactics. The two wingers still in their reversed roles and the front two still in their “here, do I know you from somewhere” mode
The rest of the report aint pretty as every single one of our heroes stumbled around aimlessly, fumbled possession, didn’t run for each other, abdicated responsibility and abandoned all concept of it being a team game. They looked like they couldn’t wait to get off the park.
Robbo who I have been critical of recently at least looked like he wanted the ball but his passing, shooting and crossing were a step below that of a pub footballer.
Howson, extremely disappointingly was memorable for one thing….nothing.
Becchio gave the ultimate testimony of why he should have been treated like a south American tender perennial and put indoors for the winter. The lad is shot to pieces and his limited ability was exasperated by that. His frankly laughable appeal for a penalty when he collapsed under his own fatigue was an embarrassment. His one positive contribution to the half was a desperate signal to the bench not to make a substitution just before a Hereford Set Piece.
The subs were made. Grella on for Trundle and Bradley for Snoddy. While I was working out what we were doing Bradleys first contribution was what looked like to me a perfectly good tackle penalised on the wing just to our left. This left him fuming with the Linesman even as the high cross came over to the far post. I think it was Dickinson that was out jumped and the knock across the goal was poked into the back of the net for 2-0 and nowhere for us to go.
What the Fook is going on was the gist of several texts I got and the fans main chant as the players continued their pointless attempts at getting back into the game. Prutts came on for Parker and we slipped into a 3 at the back 3-5-2 but the net result was the same. Robbo again showed a glimmer of effort but shot hopelessly high and wide and put one narrowly wide. Grella made one penetrative run that showed a glimpse of promise but his shot was miscued. Obviously we were short at the back and a lob over the top saw their center forward get behind our back three only to lob it over the bar himself.
A section of the crowd down to our left including the shirtless short clad lad fresh off Bondi Beach launched into a grating Leeds United Calypso only to be massively drowned out by a We’re Shit and we’re sick of it chant from all sections of the fans. Then a We all love Leeds then a Bates Out, and a dwindling get the Chelsea out of Leeds. It was the first time in a long while ive heard resentment and anger like that.
Full time was greeted by boos and you’re not fit to wear the shirt. Dickinson came right up to the fans and was warmly applauded as he bid farewell. The rest of the players skulked off like those people that gather at the scene of a bad accident eventually do.
On a positive note  I fell asleep on the coach before we got to the M5 and didn’t wake till the Salford exit on the M62 with that confused state when you work out the nightmare that seemed so real was only a nightmare. The confusion being that it wasn’t a nightmare at all but perhaps the Mogwai album on the ipod or more likely a new low in the Leeds United Saga,
So back to the dark frozen slopes of West Huddersfield for 2am and a quick peruse around the Garden. I’m afraid that we are going to be in winters grip a little while longer.
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Garp
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Thank you......I left the comfort of my armchair (radio commentary) well early last night and skulked off to bed. It seems I made the right decision. I am tired of this Bates in / Bates out, one manager in, another out. Is there no end to this nightmare?......Will I wake up at the Salford exit listening to God Save the Queen (The Pistols, not the Anthem), only to slowly realise the reality that we have won the EPL back to back, and it was all a bad dream?
Somehow I suspect not. At least not in my life time 
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