Sobs On Soccer Southampton 8-0 Sunderland a-love-supreme/Sobs%20Reports/matchsouthamptonaway.html To make the most obvious of Michael Palin quotes…eight nil. Eight bloody nil. It had started so well, at least from the back seat of Kevs motor as we made good time to Eastleigh, where Mr Winks scared the life out of some poor woman by trying to climb into her car by mistake. All checked in, quick train to Southampton, met up with Ann, Claire, and young Liam in the Standing Order, and the day looked set fair for a decent outcome. Maybe the sight of some idiot in a mag shirt on the way to the ground should have been a warning, but I doubt if anything could have prepared us for what was about to happen. In the great catalogue of horrific defeats, this one was right up there with the worst of them. West Ham, Watford…and now Southampton. Wed started with the team we expected to, with only Brown coming to replace the injured Jones. A logical choice, we thought. It was a fairly positive start for us, winning a corner and looking about sort of nearly (get my drift?) on a par with the home side. Then it started to unravel, with Wickham being booked for the most obvious of fouls, and Southampton gained control of the game and it was all over, really, on twelve minutes. Maybe we should have known what was coming when the loose ball was struck by Vergini. He didnt slice it, scuff it, or in any way mishit the ball, but planted a superb volley beyond Vito to open the scoring. Aw, bugger, well just have to regroup and overcome that, we thought, but five minutes later a ball out of defence hit Sebs elbow, came back into the box, fell nicely to Pelle (no, not that one) and it was two. Still a chance of getting something out of the game? Hmm, how optimistic can you be? Well, it nearly happened, but the ref decided that keeper Forster had committed no foul when he cleaned out Fletcher. Look, ref, if an outfield player had hit an opponent like that, it would have been a foul, so (clutching at straws) it was a penalty and almost certainly a red card. We didnt get the decision, which in the bigger picture made absolutely no difference to the result, and the home side piled forward. They were quick, patient, efficient, and showed that if you made the right shape holes all you have to do is fill them with the right shape of player. Cork bobbed up at the back post to make it three and end the game as a competition, and the thoughts of a lot of the travelling fans was of a day wasted. The highlight of the break was the lad behind us falling asleep and dribbling in Olympic fashion, leaving a huge puddle of gob on his shirt. In fact, probably the highlight of the afternoon for Sundeland. Bridcutt replaced Brown for the second half, which, in the catalogue of weird substitutions comes fairly close the top of the list. Wed held the Saints at bay for almost twenty minutes, and we were daring to dream of only getting beat three nil, or mebbe even puling one back. Stupid optimism. When Vito made a save and Bridcutt was in a perfect position to hack the ball clear, he couldnt decide which foot to use, stood on the ball, and watched it trundle into the net. Not going to be our day. Rodwell and Johnson came on, and the latter sort of ran about a bit and was probably our best player. I think Larsson went off Pelle (no, not that one) then fired across Vito for the fifth before Vito got his colours mixed up and passed straight to Tadic thirty yards out. Looked up, picked his spot, and passed it into the net. Could it get any worse? Of course it could. They scored another two in the last ten minutes, when even Johnny Optimist of Optimistic Idiots PLC couldnt have hoped for us even getting a shot on goal. The home fans taunted us with you only came for the weather which was better than that awful half-paced dirge oh when the Saints and many of them left at six nil. What? Positives? A nice touch by the home keeper, who made his way to Vito and gave him a great big hug after the final whistle. A sort of decent contribution by Johnson. The weather. Man of the Match? The fans. They never cease to amaze me, the bloody nutcases. Eight down, and the away end was bouncing so much that the home fans must have been embarrassed. Mind, Id swap a muted turnout for three points. Even the Saints fans in the Standing Order afterwards congratulated us on our support, as did the West Ham lad back in Eastleigh before we hit the Irish club and did wonders for the profits of Mr Bushmill. Keep the Faith? Hard work.
Posted on: Sun, 19 Oct 2014 10:15:55 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015