It's nice to feel euphoric on a Saturday night for the first time this season. And it's the culmination of a very decent week. I followed Tuesday evening's fizzy-pop cup win at Sunderland via the rolling news updates at the bottom of the TV screen as I watched the second half of the Spurs-Arsenal game, resisting the temptation to turn to Sky Sports News on the ludicrous grounds that if I did, West Ham would stop winning. But hey, it worked.
And in the perverse way of the perennial pessimist, did I rejoice that two (count 'em) non-scoring forwards had scored? Of course not, I simply assumed that in some way we would now inevitably lose to Spurs.
So come today, my optimism meter was on empty. After all, we haven't beaten Spurs home or away for years, and if there's one team I'd like to beat more than any others, it's them. When we do paste them, they blame the pasta (Lasagna, geddit?) And 'Appy 'Arry has never brought a team to Upton Park and lost since he did one. And, again, if there's a manager I'd love to beat, it's the one that bought Big Titi Camara with (some of) the proceeds of the sale of Rio to Nasty Leeds. A well-greased sale, I'm sure.
But in the event, we won.
We played some football and Rob Green made one stupendous save. Scotty Parker showed why Spurs were desperate to buy him and Kieron Dyer went off injured before the first half was completed. My daughter Jessica attended her first game of the season and now maintains she is the essential ingredient.
The natural order is restored and all is right with the world at least until next Saturday.
And we've drawn Stoke in the fizzy-pop cup so I can reminisce about Bobby Moore in goal and Geoff Hurst missing a penalty so that Stoke went tio the final (and in the close season, Geoff went to Stoke).
Back to the future it is.
Saturday 25 September 2010
Sunday 19 September 2010
DISRUPTIONS TO THE NATURAL ORDER: Stoke 1 -1 West Ham; 18 September
I watched the West Ham game at our house in Norfolk. This is normally not allowed by the Ruler, who quite rightly sees the house in Norfolk as a change from the house in London. In Norfolk we go out (together even), we take long walks on beaches and through woodland with our dogs, we watch television together. Watching football on the television is not in the brochure.
I watch football (usually) in the company of member(s) of my family - my elder daughter, Jessica, my two sons, Joel and Jack (all named in chronological order with no implication of any favouritism). As well as sharing the delights or - more usually - pains of a West Ham performance there is the constant commentary and opportunities to express jointly profound derision for the referee, opposition, and most often, it has to be acknowledged, the efforts of several West Ham players. On my own I do my best to keep up the volume, frequency and amount of bile, but often lapse into fatalistic acceptance of the general incompetence of the referee, opposition and several West Ham players (although I try to make an exception for Spector).
Despite the numerous abominations Sky television has brought to football coverage (along with, I admit, a degree of passion and expertise in the coverage that the BBC never did and hasn't yet managed), a match at Saturday lunchtime while eating in front of the telly alone is not the way it should be done. The fact that my two dogs are quite willing to be excited when I am does not compensate for their need to slink away when the incompetent defending leads to a relatively short-lived tirade of abuse.
And, of course, for this game the Manager was absent for reasons of religious observance. As was one of his purchases (on loan) requiring a fourth centre back partner for Matt Upson in as many games. Since the absolute foundation for teams to be successful is to have a strong defence and build from it, as the brilliant efforts of Roy Hodgson at Fulham demonstrated, and that very ordinary players (John Pantsil, Aaron Lennon, Paul Konchesky) can, if well coached, be a good defence, so many changes do not bode well.
But, above all else, the biggest disruptions to the natural order were that West Ham didn't concede three goals, were not bullied out of the game, and gained a first point of the season.
Good job I'm not superstitious - it would be impossible to replicate those circumstances.
I watch football (usually) in the company of member(s) of my family - my elder daughter, Jessica, my two sons, Joel and Jack (all named in chronological order with no implication of any favouritism). As well as sharing the delights or - more usually - pains of a West Ham performance there is the constant commentary and opportunities to express jointly profound derision for the referee, opposition, and most often, it has to be acknowledged, the efforts of several West Ham players. On my own I do my best to keep up the volume, frequency and amount of bile, but often lapse into fatalistic acceptance of the general incompetence of the referee, opposition and several West Ham players (although I try to make an exception for Spector).
Despite the numerous abominations Sky television has brought to football coverage (along with, I admit, a degree of passion and expertise in the coverage that the BBC never did and hasn't yet managed), a match at Saturday lunchtime while eating in front of the telly alone is not the way it should be done. The fact that my two dogs are quite willing to be excited when I am does not compensate for their need to slink away when the incompetent defending leads to a relatively short-lived tirade of abuse.
And, of course, for this game the Manager was absent for reasons of religious observance. As was one of his purchases (on loan) requiring a fourth centre back partner for Matt Upson in as many games. Since the absolute foundation for teams to be successful is to have a strong defence and build from it, as the brilliant efforts of Roy Hodgson at Fulham demonstrated, and that very ordinary players (John Pantsil, Aaron Lennon, Paul Konchesky) can, if well coached, be a good defence, so many changes do not bode well.
But, above all else, the biggest disruptions to the natural order were that West Ham didn't concede three goals, were not bullied out of the game, and gained a first point of the season.
Good job I'm not superstitious - it would be impossible to replicate those circumstances.
Sunday 12 September 2010
Weary, stale, flat and unprofitable: West Ham 1 - 3 Chelsea; 11 September
One of the joys of Shakespeare is that he can supply a quote for every occasion. The apocryphal American lady who responded to seeing 'Hamlet' for the first time by saying it was full of quotes was right, but in the wrong order.
Nobody felt any great sense of anticipation going to the match yesterday. The usual level of vitriol reserved for Fat Frank wasn't required as he wasn't playing. Not that he was being saved by his manager from the terrible abuse he would receive. It was the hernia wot did it. And he always relishes the abuse, using it to spur him on to score against us.
But our lamentable start to the season, combined with Chelsea's early goal-scoring sprees, meant the talk was on whether we would be able to keep the score respectable. In our favour was, well, not a lot really, except that Chelsea have a European game coming up in midweek and they would presumably want to conserve their energy for that. And we, of course, have a whole host of new signings eager to show just what we haven't spent any money on in the transfer window, more for the Foreign Legion who, according to co-owner and erstwhile pornographer David Sullivan, don't give their all for the cause.
In the event, Jacobsen, a free transfer from Blackburn' s reserves, Ben Haim, a loan from relegated Portsmouth, and Obinna, loaned from Inter. Now, according to Pravda, Jacobsen is Denmark right back ever-present for his country in the World Cup, and Obinna a lively Nigeria international. So lively he was loaned to Malaga last year and now to us.
All of this was academic as we had conceded a goal before 2 minutes. A routine corner, don't mark and there we go. We followed that with Rob Green's slippery hands presenting Matt Upson the chnace to hoof a clearance straight against Kalou and into the net on 17 minutes. After that, Chelsea went from trotting to strolling and allowed us to look ok because they had the game won.
It's interesting to study our team in that situation. Scott Parker never stopped trying and nor did Mark Noble, but his passing was wayward. Behrami was full of shrugs and grumbles that seemed to give credence to the view that he'd rather not be here. Mind you, there were plenty in the crowd who felt the same way.
Obinna is another non-scoring forward who made Marlon Harewood look accurate and the substitute Piquionne could give Mike Small a run for his money when it comes to missing sitters. I mention Marlon and Mike because West Ham is a club with traditions, and one in particular is that we apparently buy (and play) forwards on the basis of their lack of skill with a banjo when placed near a cow's arse.
So why Carlton Cole gets such stick is beyond me. A non-scoring centre-forward? Check. But at least he keeps going. As will I, no doubt, but more in expectation (of defeat) than hope.
Nobody felt any great sense of anticipation going to the match yesterday. The usual level of vitriol reserved for Fat Frank wasn't required as he wasn't playing. Not that he was being saved by his manager from the terrible abuse he would receive. It was the hernia wot did it. And he always relishes the abuse, using it to spur him on to score against us.
But our lamentable start to the season, combined with Chelsea's early goal-scoring sprees, meant the talk was on whether we would be able to keep the score respectable. In our favour was, well, not a lot really, except that Chelsea have a European game coming up in midweek and they would presumably want to conserve their energy for that. And we, of course, have a whole host of new signings eager to show just what we haven't spent any money on in the transfer window, more for the Foreign Legion who, according to co-owner and erstwhile pornographer David Sullivan, don't give their all for the cause.
In the event, Jacobsen, a free transfer from Blackburn' s reserves, Ben Haim, a loan from relegated Portsmouth, and Obinna, loaned from Inter. Now, according to Pravda, Jacobsen is Denmark right back ever-present for his country in the World Cup, and Obinna a lively Nigeria international. So lively he was loaned to Malaga last year and now to us.
All of this was academic as we had conceded a goal before 2 minutes. A routine corner, don't mark and there we go. We followed that with Rob Green's slippery hands presenting Matt Upson the chnace to hoof a clearance straight against Kalou and into the net on 17 minutes. After that, Chelsea went from trotting to strolling and allowed us to look ok because they had the game won.
It's interesting to study our team in that situation. Scott Parker never stopped trying and nor did Mark Noble, but his passing was wayward. Behrami was full of shrugs and grumbles that seemed to give credence to the view that he'd rather not be here. Mind you, there were plenty in the crowd who felt the same way.
Obinna is another non-scoring forward who made Marlon Harewood look accurate and the substitute Piquionne could give Mike Small a run for his money when it comes to missing sitters. I mention Marlon and Mike because West Ham is a club with traditions, and one in particular is that we apparently buy (and play) forwards on the basis of their lack of skill with a banjo when placed near a cow's arse.
So why Carlton Cole gets such stick is beyond me. A non-scoring centre-forward? Check. But at least he keeps going. As will I, no doubt, but more in expectation (of defeat) than hope.
Sunday 5 September 2010
International breaks
Like most club supporters, my concern with the national team is lukewarm at best. If there's a West Ham player in the team, the temperature of the interest rises a couple of notches. If it's an important tournament, and there's a West Ham player in the team, it might reach tepid .
Mostly, it's depressing because of might-have-beens for the England team. Not what the all-that-glitters-is-not-golden generation might have achieved, but how many England players could have been in the West Ham team. There are those that seem authentically to be West Ham players, like Joe Cole, Michael Carrick, Glen Johnson, Rio Ferdinand and Fat Frank. There are those that have played at West Ham like David James, Rob Green, Carlton Cole, Matthew Upson and even Super Scotty Parker. And then those passing through (like little shits) on their way to 'big clubs' like Jermaine Defoe.
Some are really West Ham, went away and came back and then moved on, like Bobby Zamora.
But it's quite a contribution from a chronically underachieving club.
Other clubs will have more in the we-bought-them-to-play-for-us international category. Many of the players who started with us improved out of all recognition in their new clubs (from Fat Frank to Bobby Z).
Some started with us and left without troubling the senior squads such as John Terry and Kieran Richardson (and wasn't the first one a bonus whatever his footballing capability).
But for a corner shop kind of outfit, Tony Carr and his set-up is something special. Shame about the rest of organisation.
Mostly, it's depressing because of might-have-beens for the England team. Not what the all-that-glitters-is-not-golden generation might have achieved, but how many England players could have been in the West Ham team. There are those that seem authentically to be West Ham players, like Joe Cole, Michael Carrick, Glen Johnson, Rio Ferdinand and Fat Frank. There are those that have played at West Ham like David James, Rob Green, Carlton Cole, Matthew Upson and even Super Scotty Parker. And then those passing through (like little shits) on their way to 'big clubs' like Jermaine Defoe.
Some are really West Ham, went away and came back and then moved on, like Bobby Zamora.
But it's quite a contribution from a chronically underachieving club.
Other clubs will have more in the we-bought-them-to-play-for-us international category. Many of the players who started with us improved out of all recognition in their new clubs (from Fat Frank to Bobby Z).
Some started with us and left without troubling the senior squads such as John Terry and Kieran Richardson (and wasn't the first one a bonus whatever his footballing capability).
But for a corner shop kind of outfit, Tony Carr and his set-up is something special. Shame about the rest of organisation.
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