Wild boasts of Champions League football and marquee signings are but a distant memory these days, the alternative becoming a blanket of silence from Venky’s HQ in Pune. Europe, never mind India, suddenly seems a universe away.
Not so long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, big Balaji and his sheepish brother Venkatesh – or is it Venkatash? - were promising Ronaldinho and delivering Ribeiro, making mysterious Spanish agents millionaires overnight and according to the holier-than-thou ‘super-agent’, Jerome Anderson, the club was ‘absolutely rocking’.
We were promised champagne football, recording our third win in five at home to West Brom – although the ‘rocking’ would soon grind to a creaky halt, embarking on an alarming slump that wouldn’t see us record another victory for over three months, recording just four points in that entire period.
The champagne fizzed as much as a flat brown ale in that time and it’s during this spell, that the first wave of doubts began to emerge regarding the new manager. A previously resolute defence was now shipping four goals at Wigan and Villa, trailing Blackpool by two goals in a six-pointer (sound familiar?) and failing to take the initiative against fellow strugglers Birmingham. Fortress Ewood could no longer be relied on for points and an overnight desire for enterprising play was leaving us desperately exposed at the back, the vacuum of the drop-zone sucking us in with frightening ease.
All of a sudden, we were marked as dead-certs for the drop by a plethora of pundits and experts, the irony being that the so-called ‘experts’ have more support for us now, in a much worse position. We’d forgotten how to win, how to defend and how to grind it out. We were done for, down amongst the dead-men, ‘get em off Mum, we’re going down’.
…and then a switch went off in Kean’s head: we were suddenly tighter, tougher, more determined, played to our strengths, pace on the break, cutting out the fancy stuff, bodies were put on the line, knowing when to defend and when to attack. In our final four games, we beat Bolton 1-0, practically condemned West Ham to relegation with a draw at Upton Park, outplayed the Champions-elect and then took Wolves apart in their own backyard on judgement day.
We’d suddenly realised who we were, the predicament we were actually in, abandoning fanciful notions of seducing an entire subcontinent with sexy football and sexier signings. It was a learning curve, something to build on, strengths and weaknesses identified, ‘we’ll never be in this position again’ they yelled – and then the new season arrived and we were back to square one.
Our best results this season have arrived through similar adversity, against better opponents and ball-players. Swansea have quite rightly taken the plaudits this season, for their possession and short-passing, but at Ewood we exploited their weaknesses at the back and in the air, scoring four goals with relative ease. We stopped Liverpool playing at Anfield and the counter-attack and set-pieces played a major part in our surprising success at Old Trafford.
Against Fulham last weekend, we benefitted from going a man down; we suddenly dug-in, took the initiative and once again negated Fulham’s advances, scoring from another set-piece, combined with clinical and thoughtful counter-attacking. When our backs are to the wall, we’ve achieved much better results.
It was always going to be a difficult task transforming a footballing philosophy overnight, which under the previous manager, Sam Allardyce, was built upon a static but solid system, devoid of flair and creative thought, but benefitting from avoiding needless loss of possession and a risk-free strategy. Many fans loved it, but in equal measure – myself included – many more loathed it. A need to entertain was secondary to holding a blank scoreline, until a set-piece or defensive error could be profited upon. Games against the big-boys were written off, players rested, others not giving 100% - but come the following week, results against the also-rans would duly arrive. It was depressing to watch at times, too-negative, too-safe, but safe all the same.
Thirteen months, and we’re still none-the-wiser about Kean’s own philosophy – other than it’s been crap. It’s true, that had the owners put their money where their mouth is, then he may have had more opportunity to express himself. In reality, it’s the same core players that were used to more direct-thinking, suddenly expected to be able to move the ball around like a puck on an ice-rink; there have been glimpses in games where it’s come off, but more often than not – it hasn’t.
At Old Trafford, the victory was almost jeopardised by Pedersen carelessly giving possession away for their equalising goal – he did likewise for Cardiff’s opener in the League Cup. Against Bolton, Samba inexplicably setup their first goal in the opening four minutes with a weak clearance, falling over for Crouch’s opener weeks later – sloppy individual errors that have compromised our game-plan before it could begin, immediately forcing us on the front foot. Salgado was the chief villain early-season, an unsettled Givet likewise. I’m no Allardyce fan, but would similar errors have consistently occurred and counted against us? Quite simply, no, they wouldn’t.
Last season’s trip to Goodison, was in the height of the three-month slump, once again conceding two careless goals – although the team were comprehensively beaten that afternoon, once again in two minds at what was expected of them.
This weekend, we need to build on the Fulham win, going back-to-basics and setting out with a solid foundation. David Moyes’ teams are always hard-working and there will be long-periods were we are without possession. However, goalscoring has been their biggest problem and we need to exploit those frustrations, be solid in defence, make the most of our set-pieces and their own insecurities and more importantly, break with pace and purpose when the opportunities arise. Then again – what do I know? The pundits and experts can dip in and out, judge us off the highlights, climbing up and down from their high horse in studios and news-desks – as supporters, we’ve only got decades of experience in living and breathing it, analysing every ball, second and tackle in the flesh; managers, players, systems and tactics have come and gone, we’ve won some, drawn some and lost more – but what do we know?
When the transfer window opened, we knew better than to expect the cheque-book to open and a flurry of new signings to whirl through the door, and Kean’s press conferences have long been doused in salt. Is the big man leaving? Of course he is. Come the end of the month, I fully expect Samba and the red-rose to have parted ways. He’s been a tremendous servant to the club and although previous windows have ended with yet another improved contract, his cards have been on the table for some time. He’s absolutely right to question the club’s ambition and broken promises – we’re all with you there Chris.
My only hope is that Paris is his destination, or Arsenal. There would be a tinge of sadness in seeing him on the same bench that David Bentley used to sulk on at White Hart Lane, just so Harry Redchops can stockpile more players. In any event, I don’t think Spurs could afford him.
That leaves QPR of course and an opportunity to reunite him with the man who first brought him to these shores. It’s hard enough watching Mark Hughes at Loftus Road – without the sight of the big man joining him. It would be a catastrophic error in judgement strengthening a rival for Premiership survival and weakening our own team in turn, and thankfully two bids have thus far been rebuffed.
And so to the arrivals lounge – where we seemed to spend all summer chasing Papiss Demba Cissé, Newcastle’s shiny £10m signing, but we are now well-aware that loan singings and bargain buckets are a more realistic proposition. Another summer target, Vierinha, has joined Wolfsburg of the Bundelsiga, although we have welcomed a new striker to the club in Anthony Modeste.
At just over six-foot and a couple of months shy of his 24th birthday, Modeste could be a useful signing – especially with Yakubu suspended, Roberts frozen out, Goodwillie struggling to make an impact and Formica itching for a return to a sunnier climate. He could even be in line for an immediate debut this weekend, according to Kean, although it could be time to reach for the salt again.
Our expectations have been grounded and in keeping those feet on the ground, we can go to Goodison as supporters and simply enjoy the match. If we lose, well, we knew we weren’t good enough anyway – but were we to get a result? You just never know. We might be capable of staying in this division after all; there I go with the false hope again. The key is not to expect too much, modesty is the best way – in performance and expectation. We are the Rovers.
Not so long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, big Balaji and his sheepish brother Venkatesh – or is it Venkatash? - were promising Ronaldinho and delivering Ribeiro, making mysterious Spanish agents millionaires overnight and according to the holier-than-thou ‘super-agent’, Jerome Anderson, the club was ‘absolutely rocking’.
We were promised champagne football, recording our third win in five at home to West Brom – although the ‘rocking’ would soon grind to a creaky halt, embarking on an alarming slump that wouldn’t see us record another victory for over three months, recording just four points in that entire period.
The champagne fizzed as much as a flat brown ale in that time and it’s during this spell, that the first wave of doubts began to emerge regarding the new manager. A previously resolute defence was now shipping four goals at Wigan and Villa, trailing Blackpool by two goals in a six-pointer (sound familiar?) and failing to take the initiative against fellow strugglers Birmingham. Fortress Ewood could no longer be relied on for points and an overnight desire for enterprising play was leaving us desperately exposed at the back, the vacuum of the drop-zone sucking us in with frightening ease.
All of a sudden, we were marked as dead-certs for the drop by a plethora of pundits and experts, the irony being that the so-called ‘experts’ have more support for us now, in a much worse position. We’d forgotten how to win, how to defend and how to grind it out. We were done for, down amongst the dead-men, ‘get em off Mum, we’re going down’.
…and then a switch went off in Kean’s head: we were suddenly tighter, tougher, more determined, played to our strengths, pace on the break, cutting out the fancy stuff, bodies were put on the line, knowing when to defend and when to attack. In our final four games, we beat Bolton 1-0, practically condemned West Ham to relegation with a draw at Upton Park, outplayed the Champions-elect and then took Wolves apart in their own backyard on judgement day.
We’d suddenly realised who we were, the predicament we were actually in, abandoning fanciful notions of seducing an entire subcontinent with sexy football and sexier signings. It was a learning curve, something to build on, strengths and weaknesses identified, ‘we’ll never be in this position again’ they yelled – and then the new season arrived and we were back to square one.
Our best results this season have arrived through similar adversity, against better opponents and ball-players. Swansea have quite rightly taken the plaudits this season, for their possession and short-passing, but at Ewood we exploited their weaknesses at the back and in the air, scoring four goals with relative ease. We stopped Liverpool playing at Anfield and the counter-attack and set-pieces played a major part in our surprising success at Old Trafford.
Against Fulham last weekend, we benefitted from going a man down; we suddenly dug-in, took the initiative and once again negated Fulham’s advances, scoring from another set-piece, combined with clinical and thoughtful counter-attacking. When our backs are to the wall, we’ve achieved much better results.
It was always going to be a difficult task transforming a footballing philosophy overnight, which under the previous manager, Sam Allardyce, was built upon a static but solid system, devoid of flair and creative thought, but benefitting from avoiding needless loss of possession and a risk-free strategy. Many fans loved it, but in equal measure – myself included – many more loathed it. A need to entertain was secondary to holding a blank scoreline, until a set-piece or defensive error could be profited upon. Games against the big-boys were written off, players rested, others not giving 100% - but come the following week, results against the also-rans would duly arrive. It was depressing to watch at times, too-negative, too-safe, but safe all the same.
Thirteen months, and we’re still none-the-wiser about Kean’s own philosophy – other than it’s been crap. It’s true, that had the owners put their money where their mouth is, then he may have had more opportunity to express himself. In reality, it’s the same core players that were used to more direct-thinking, suddenly expected to be able to move the ball around like a puck on an ice-rink; there have been glimpses in games where it’s come off, but more often than not – it hasn’t.
At Old Trafford, the victory was almost jeopardised by Pedersen carelessly giving possession away for their equalising goal – he did likewise for Cardiff’s opener in the League Cup. Against Bolton, Samba inexplicably setup their first goal in the opening four minutes with a weak clearance, falling over for Crouch’s opener weeks later – sloppy individual errors that have compromised our game-plan before it could begin, immediately forcing us on the front foot. Salgado was the chief villain early-season, an unsettled Givet likewise. I’m no Allardyce fan, but would similar errors have consistently occurred and counted against us? Quite simply, no, they wouldn’t.
Last season’s trip to Goodison, was in the height of the three-month slump, once again conceding two careless goals – although the team were comprehensively beaten that afternoon, once again in two minds at what was expected of them.
This weekend, we need to build on the Fulham win, going back-to-basics and setting out with a solid foundation. David Moyes’ teams are always hard-working and there will be long-periods were we are without possession. However, goalscoring has been their biggest problem and we need to exploit those frustrations, be solid in defence, make the most of our set-pieces and their own insecurities and more importantly, break with pace and purpose when the opportunities arise. Then again – what do I know? The pundits and experts can dip in and out, judge us off the highlights, climbing up and down from their high horse in studios and news-desks – as supporters, we’ve only got decades of experience in living and breathing it, analysing every ball, second and tackle in the flesh; managers, players, systems and tactics have come and gone, we’ve won some, drawn some and lost more – but what do we know?
When the transfer window opened, we knew better than to expect the cheque-book to open and a flurry of new signings to whirl through the door, and Kean’s press conferences have long been doused in salt. Is the big man leaving? Of course he is. Come the end of the month, I fully expect Samba and the red-rose to have parted ways. He’s been a tremendous servant to the club and although previous windows have ended with yet another improved contract, his cards have been on the table for some time. He’s absolutely right to question the club’s ambition and broken promises – we’re all with you there Chris.
My only hope is that Paris is his destination, or Arsenal. There would be a tinge of sadness in seeing him on the same bench that David Bentley used to sulk on at White Hart Lane, just so Harry Redchops can stockpile more players. In any event, I don’t think Spurs could afford him.
That leaves QPR of course and an opportunity to reunite him with the man who first brought him to these shores. It’s hard enough watching Mark Hughes at Loftus Road – without the sight of the big man joining him. It would be a catastrophic error in judgement strengthening a rival for Premiership survival and weakening our own team in turn, and thankfully two bids have thus far been rebuffed.
And so to the arrivals lounge – where we seemed to spend all summer chasing Papiss Demba Cissé, Newcastle’s shiny £10m signing, but we are now well-aware that loan singings and bargain buckets are a more realistic proposition. Another summer target, Vierinha, has joined Wolfsburg of the Bundelsiga, although we have welcomed a new striker to the club in Anthony Modeste.
At just over six-foot and a couple of months shy of his 24th birthday, Modeste could be a useful signing – especially with Yakubu suspended, Roberts frozen out, Goodwillie struggling to make an impact and Formica itching for a return to a sunnier climate. He could even be in line for an immediate debut this weekend, according to Kean, although it could be time to reach for the salt again.
Our expectations have been grounded and in keeping those feet on the ground, we can go to Goodison as supporters and simply enjoy the match. If we lose, well, we knew we weren’t good enough anyway – but were we to get a result? You just never know. We might be capable of staying in this division after all; there I go with the false hope again. The key is not to expect too much, modesty is the best way – in performance and expectation. We are the Rovers.
