Back in 1992, I went to The Dell for our quarter final. A 0-0 bore draw and we were shoehorned onto old trestles with ‘seat’ numbers on the back. Anyone on a packed Sleazyjet aircraft who complains of sitting next to a large person on one side and a small child with an ear-splitting shriek on the other hasn’t lived.
We had the temerity to beat Wolves 2-0 and it was the night their wonderful fans decided to put half a breezeblock through one of the Club Canary coaches. Tucking my scarf under my Liam Gallagher parka, I walked back through the subway towards the Novotel. Tucking my scarf under my Liam Gallagher parka, I walked back through the subway towards the Novotel. I was confronted by half a dozen angry Wolves.
Alex Neil is so past his sell-by date it is beyond belief. He is kept in situ and the silence from the boardroom is deafening. The majority of NCFC fans – including myself and I am sure most, if not all of the MFW writers – have been patient for so long. The guys at Archant likewise.
“There is a circus in the town – where George Burley is the clown”. Again, far too rude to detail, but I used to sing it with gusto. A true NCFC original and I absolutely loved joining in with it.
After Villa, I wrote that Alex Neil had earned a further chance to put things right. Well, quite frankly, he’s blown it. I’m not screaming for Gary Rowett or any other individual – certainly not Roy Hodgson, anyway – but something has to change.
Many of us thought last night’s team selection appeared too defensive on paper. I don’t care – it worked. Winning ugly? To an extent, but I would settle for this level of performance in every game right now. We need those points and it really doesn’t matter how we get them.
I have no jealousy at all aimed towards those who earn x, y or z, but if I respect Grant Holt and Bradley Johnson above others, it is because I truly believe they have earned their rewards the hard way and respect them from the lessons I have learned in my own life.
It’s an open secret that it’s “sell to buy” in January and given our recent track record I don’t hold out too much hope for much of any use to happen in terms of ins-and-outs. But if Saturday is anything to go by, things are looking a little more towards the skies than the floor.
This white VW Golf convertible had been tailing me for seemingly ages with rap so loud it was almost drowning out my Iron Maiden. As we pulled up side by side at the lights the occupants looked over. Foxy in the passenger seat and Lee Power driving. I just waved my scarf out of the window of the Mondeo and got two great thumbs-ups.
Mark Bowen has to be one of the very finest players ever to wear the yellow shirt. “You’ll never beat Mark Bowen” sang the Barclay, and were invariably correct. He could play anywhere, too – midfield, striker, even in goal once at Coventry.