Posted on Thursday, 26th January 2012 by Squire
So, as I sit here thinking of just where and how to begin this endeavor, I am really just trying to get my head around one simple number: 70. Seventy could represent nearly anything, an age, the Rankers penalty sweepstakes, a nice over-under line on the Super Bowl, or even a pretty respectable golf score.
But the big seven-oh in this case is even sweeter as it pertains to the number of wins under the belt of the man we call manager. Neil Lennon, with the team’s last win at St. Mirren cemented his seventieth win in the wee league. Not bad for someone I once deemed unworthy of the role he has found himself in. I have no problem whatsoever in having been proved wrong about his coaching credentials. In fact I’m thrilled that I was! If I had been correct, then we wouldn’t be shopping for the talent in this transfer window, we would be searching a replacement for the big chair.
So with an overall record of 70 wins, drew 12, and 14 losses we can say that the Ginge has been hitting his stride alongside the youthful team he directs. In this last win I, along with many others was a bit tense going into the clash. Harsh conditions and frozen turf meant that the ball would be as much a guess in direction as any of the players on it. The first half did not disappoint in those sentiments.
One of the reasons that Broony stuck out to me in the first half was really the effort put in. I started noticing more and more, that it was just a bit of off timing in how the wind led a ball just out of his reach, or a harsh bounce on the grass that disrupted a few near perfect control moments. He did not allow the miscues to faze him. He stayed at it, and it was all brought to reward in the second half.
One player that I just wish like hell I could sing the praises of with regularity, and I think he again played a superb game this weekend past. And I will be absolutely slaughtered for the opinion, but Cha was the man in the first. With speed only equaled by Hooper, the Cha was everywhere. Constant overlapping runs that did eighty percent of the creation in the half, a tight defense that he only was found a bit out of place a couple times that I noticed (I could well be wrong) and the one thing that no one can dispute. Ever. He has the worst final touch in maybe the whole of the footballing world. No matter how much praise I want to put on him, it is always with that bitter pill that it must accompany. He may create all the attack in the world, but he couldn’t hit water if he fell off a boat. And in pure Gumpian wisdom; that’s all I have to say about that.
So to the half we go, and I was definitely feeling that sense that we had taken a step back three months in time. I was disappointed that no changes were made at the new whistle, but was willing to see where it went before pitching the laptop through the window.
There were the usual screams of unrest on twitter as to who should come in for whom, and the general consensus was that it was Ki and Samaras that would see the hook. And not a dozen minutes later it was Ki and Sammy to go out, replaced by Stokes and Commons.
Commons brought that touch he seemed to be missing since the last bit of last season. He played with some energy, and in spite of still looking a few bacon cheeseburgers over the limit he had the pace on and off the ball that just made things happen.
When Brown played a first touch ball off to Jamsey at the edge of the box, and it was blasted home for the wee man’s eighth on the season, I could feel the collective exhale of the supporters near and far.
It was what we had been waiting for those seventy minutes in anxiety. It had been a frantic game that could have been well lost had it not been for the efforts of perhaps the seasons biggest turnaround; Fraser Forster.
He well and truly played out of his mind in the game, and made a few saves that had the wind gusted funny could have seen us bleeding goals.
When Brown sealed the game up with a carbon copy of last season’s defining image (with a little less trash nearby) it was smiles all round, and cruise control on the field.
The manager had sealed the team’s twelfth consecutive league win, and extended the unbeaten to fifteen. This season has shown shades of the same treatment of seasons past, but we have yet to see the same degenerate level of ignorant hatred that was so visible last year.
Had NL turned and walked away, who would ever have blamed him? I said before that the biggest adversity he faced this campaign was in choosing a competent eleven, and I had yet to see him capable of it. More than happy to say I’m wrong. We are now seeing some deeper stuff from this team; a bit of fight that was certainly on vacation at the start of this term.
The players are increasing confidence, and showing trust in the tactics that Neil is demanding. I think there was a period where perhaps in the carnage that the early season was bringing us the players were very quick to abandon ship on the strategy at hand. It’s easy to see why. When nothing is going right, and the natives are growing dangerous, win at whatever cost, tactics be damned.
If you want to know what real strength is I suggest you look up and down the team roster. These cogs, these young ‘value players’ that are assembled week after week (with a fair bit of tinkering) by Neil Lennon, has overcome a deficit in the league that had many out on the ledge early. One of the joys of being a reactionary lunatic with a computer and a blog is that I get to gamble on what I see and how to express it. Sometimes I’m right, very frequently wrong, but I get to keep on doing it.
So Neil has hit seventy. Maybe not the milestone number that justifies careers and lands managers enshrined forever, but I can say with honesty that its perhaps fifteen more than I thought he would ever have a chance to see.
HH
SjH (twitter @dizinhoops and for podcast and website updates @TheLostBhoys & @HomeBhoys)
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