It is too early to talk of revivals, of Lazarus-esque risings; the one Swallow that was the Carlisle game does not make a summer free from the cares of the Conference. I can’t believe that it is helpful for a team playing vastly under their potential to be heralded as conquerers of Europe as our boys were on Tuesday by BL against all written evidence to the contrary.
Admittedly, if we play badly for the rest of the season and keep winning 3-1, this will be irrelevant, but it does seem a high-risk strategy. There aren’t too many Carlisles in our division (at the last count there was one) so now is the time to knuckle down, this has to be the beginning of a run, this has to be the start of the upturn otherwise why do we bother? We are not a mid-table side, we are potential promotion candidates, but we play too often like novices. We seem unaware of our own abilities, a team equivalent of Emile Heskey, who should be ploughing through defenders, scaring them witless with his strength and speed, but, it appears, in his mind he is the skinniest and feeblest little lamb on earth.
I suppose if there was no frustration, we would miss it…I think…possibly. Do supporters of those teams who lead from the start of the season really enjoy themselves, do they really take pleasure in going into matches knowing they will see a stunning performances and a bucket load of goals for their heroes? Of course they do. Are we ever going to be one of those teams? I doubt it.
But surely we’ve all been good enough boys and girls to just have one season, one measly season where we don’t have to come from behind, or where we don’t lose it whilst we’re up there. Our problem is that we’re too Hollywood, there always has to be a story, a twist, a false ending. To storm a division with no deviations from the plot like Manchester City last year and Fulham before, is just so two dimensional, so Coronation Street.
Ken Barlow for Chairman, I say.
Up The Iron.