Seven games to go, behind Arsenal on goal difference and
five points clear of Chelsea. Semi-Final of the FA Cup looming on the horizon.
If you had asked me in August of last year, whether I would
be happy with that at this point in the season, I would have nodded my head
with some enthusiasm.
On some levels, I am not unhappy with the position we find
ourselves in. Yes, we were ten points ahead of the Gooners and yes, we threw
away the chance to go thirteen ahead. We then watched from behind the sofa as
Robin Van Persie FC chased us down and overtook us until the mighty QPR stopped
their seemingly invincible run.
But to quote Rafiki in The Lion King, “it doesn’t matter, it
is in the past.”
What matters now is the next few games, none of which I am
really looking forward to. Friends here in Boston have assured me that we are
over our blip and that we will claim third place, which we held with such
critical acclaim from September.
Modric has been subdued for too long, Bale has also been off
his pace for a while and Adebayor has infuriated me more than any other player
since Jermaine Jenas. The England job still hangs over ‘Arry’s head like a
badly weighted pass from Huddlestone (who I think we have missed this season).
The absence of Lennon has hurt us, it was good to see him back against Swansea
and, provided that he can make it through the last few games, could be a
crucial factor at this business end of the season.
We need to keep going, I have said this so many times this
season that it has become a personal mantra. Starting with the early game
against Sunderland today. Win or draw that and we go back above the Nomads for
at least a day, lose… we become Citeh fans for 90 minutes tomorrow.
In solidarity with my Lilywhite brothers and sisters that
will have to get up stupidly early to drive the 17,267 miles to the Stadium of
Light, I have also dragged myself out of the comfort of my bed and am now
sitting on a train heading to Boston.
Public transit in America is so rubbish that the first
commuter train of the weekend won’t even get me into Beantown in time for the
kick-off. The second train would have ensured that I missed the last 20 minutes
of the game. Decisions had to be made, happily I was already planning to head
up for a day of photographing people dressed as video game characters and basement
dwellers kitted out in styles of clothing inspired by Japanese Anime.
I should be in the pub by just after 8 a.m.
This will be a tough day – not the photography, the game.
Martin O’Neill has done a good job with a team that looked as if they would be
scrapping at the wrong end of the table when Steve Bruce’s gamble of assembling
an entirely new first team for the season backfired.
They are the only team to go the Eithad and get a point so
far this season (it should have been us, should have been three!). They aren’t
challenging for European places but they aren’t battling relegation. They don’t
have an FA Cup Semi-Final against Chelsea next weekend to think about.
But our performance against Swansea was good, I thought we
were unlucky to not break our Stamford Bridge hoodoo and we seem to welcoming
players back instead of booking them space on the treatment table.
On the BBC website yesterday, Mark Lawrenson looked into his
pundit’s crystal ball and declared that we will go to the Mackems and come away
with a win. It’s not behind the realm of possibility; we have hunted up North
this season and left with smiles on our faces.
I hope that Lawro is right, I want ‘Arry to tell our boys to
go for it, once more into the breach and all that. We have the weapons, we can
use the power-ups at our disposal – Defoe must be straining at the leash to get
a start, Modders looked better against the Swans while the dual wing-play of
Lennon and Bale can be devastating if used properly.
The train is approaching the station.
Fingers crossed, seven games to go.
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