Walsall FC (A) League 2 - 14th December 2024
One of life’s great pleasures in your mid 50’s and beyond is fulminating against the twattery of modern life in general and football in particular, and few away games give you as much opportunity for this as Walsall. As there isn’t a lot else to say.
With this opportunity in mind, I decided to go a day early and arriving at a shopping centre rather than a station in the Black Country, after one of the most unpleasant journeys ever in terms of overcrowding, was delighted to find my worst fears confirmed.
When you are very young, you babble excitedly at the world around you- then life and football prove a hard master. Now, your questions are an internal rhetorical monologue to self, irritation veering to despair:
Why is everyone between 12 and 16 dressed as if they are going to supply drugs in a ‘gritty’ Netflix drama? Small clouds of vaping, bollock-chatting yoof abounded in Walsall Town Centre.
Why do all towns in League Two look like some 70s imagined post apocalypse? With a New Look. I was left praying for the inevitable AI replicant takeover.
Who thought Christmas markets or indeed sticking unlikely labels on some huddled huts selling nick-nacks were a good idea? Regeneration?
Just as despair curdled in my gut, a vision appeared, promising Nirvana. Thankfully, nothing to do with Jesus or the spirit of Winterval it held the following, beautiful words:
"TWENTY DIFFERENT REAL ALES"
Now, if I was Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, I’d have sacked off the Star and piled in to The Black Country Inn, and I did... and the twenty beers were kept well... and they had both Scotch Eggs and Samosas as bar snacks.. and a ‘Curry of the Day"... and sport... and human beings like myself, sheltering from the modern world.
After six different ales and a great chat with some aged Villa fans (who had been to Barrow) that encompassed everything from Des Bremner, to Home Internationals to Midlands Combination football, I weaved off to my hotel, which luckily turned out to be a minute’s walk away.
A few more at the bar, more nice people and an unsolicited shot from a very loud Geordie contractor (do they hire themselves out to pubs?) who was attempting to inveigle himself with a married woman from Derry. I toddled off to bed. Good effort Walsall.
Still, the Bluebirds Trust bus I was meeting had decided a Hungry Horse in Dudley was an appropriate watering hole so I ubered across to find Sky TV blasting the quivering ‘high intensity’ clash between Preston and Leeds. Why does everyone on TV Sport wear Hi-Tops and or blinding white trainers with everything? Why do footballers populate these couches rather than failing to make it as a publican?
I’m sure Jobi MacAnuff is a lovely man, but he’s in front of a screen the size of Spain hailing poorly executed Championship counter-pressing as if it was a Ted Talk. Adverts, while we are at it, anyone who really takes part in this football/betting ‘banter’ in real life needs pelted with excrement in the street. Put that in your SUPERSCORE BET BUILDING BOOSTER SMASH ACCA you credulous bellsniffers.
Yea yea, Walsall away. It’s a place we do OK, it’s just off the M6. There are no pubs near it. Historically, some of the Police are a disgrace. I mean, it’s called The Poundland Stadium for goodness sake- an early adopter of soulless out of town death of identity.
We arrived inside the ground to a brutalist anteroom selling only Carling bottles. Could we break our current run of form? Walsall, with under 6000 while still top, looked like it expected a good day. Feely in to provide solidity and Emile Acquah preferred up front.
Around 150 brave souls had made the trip and were treated to an opening flurry, where we were robust, keen but toothless. Robbie Gotts looked in the mood and had a wriggle through. They looked more direct and stronger, their forwards in particular. Still Emile looked lively and a mazy run saw him clear only to pull it wide. Later, a great save for their keeper kept us out too.
A bizarre remix of ‘Barrow Ranger 24’ and some revenge chanting with regard to the perfidy of West Midlands Police kept us more or less entertained as Walsall steadily established themselves. Organised, good on set pieces, big, confident forwards, a bit of craft.
We ceased to maintain any sort of tempo and they started to look dangerous. It was no surprise when a low drive took a lucky nick that wrong-footed Farman and nestled in the net, waking the half asleep home crowd.
Half time we stewed; fed up because on the face of it, the issue is obvious (striker required) but the reality is more complicated.
Not terrible (terrible is Michael Jolley, terrible is Shaw Lane) but a strange lassitude descends when asked to make a positive pass. We win the ball, stroke it sideways nicely, another pass then it disappears into the Barrow Bermuda Triangle, caught between statues further forward.
The ball is wasted and it all grinds on. Dean Campbell and Kian Spence typify this at present. At the start of the season; pressing monsters. Now, one is pressing the wrong button with his passing and the other is distracted and appears to have pressing business elsewhere.
Second half we kept going, the excellent Robbie Gotts to the fore. Spence made another poor decision (the lad needs something, he just looks out of sorts) and then we rumbled on towards a well-organised Walsall. Paul Farman made a cracking save. Then, as at Chesterfield, substitutions.
Post-Match, Stephen Clemence justified most of them on time out injured, or a knock. Fair enough.
But why Gotts for Mahoney? It was like replacing a pugnacious Barry McGuigan with a corpulent Barry from Eastenders.
Kirk and Mahoney are the manager’s choice. He has made that very clear. He really needs them to do him a turn and quickly.
Walsall are well coached and finished strong, managing the game.
Once again, we possibly ‘deserved’ something probably but got nothing. In a poor league this year, where everyone is much the same, we are right in the middle.
Social media was depressing post match; with a large percentage seeming to want change. I am not sure that totally reflects the whole picture but the support is certainly frustrated and split. It was working well. Now… it isn’t working at all. Somehow, we have lost our mojo, for all the talk of ‘the lads being together’ and committed training sessions.
Life and football prove a hard master. Now, our questions are an internal rhetorical monologue to ourselves, irritation veering to despair:
When does it stop being bad luck, or law of averages?
Where has Dom Telford pissed on Stephen Clemence’s chips?
Is the issue in game decision-making by players, or by management? Or both?
Has ‘summat gone on’?
Why aren’t we defending enough from the front?
Is it the medical department, and senior players insisting on playing at Chelsea even if unfit?
Is Iain Wood concentrating on the right sort of Christmas market since the role change?
For me, not at a critical mass just yet. You cannot decide on a ‘project’ then not try see it through. Financially ruinous for a start; but also knee-jerk and immature. However, colours were firmly nailed to the mast at the ‘Meet the Board and Manager’ pre-season. We would be ‘more attacking’ - Eighteen goals scored. We would be ‘more entertaining’. Having been to Doncaster, Chesterfield, Gillingham and Walsall since Chelsea, Can any of us say we have been?
I would swap an awful lot for the season’s moment of being top at Stamford Bridge. But not the entire season.
Next Saturday feels pivotal.
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