Saturday, 25 February 2012

The Forest

                                                At St Andrews Birmingham shall ne'er be vanquished
                                                            Till Forest reaches Small Heath

At 'Voice in the Wind'  two predictions were forecast at the start of the season...

- Should we keep the bulk of the squad, we'll get promoted with 100 points

- We won't lose a home game all season

Well....the first prediction died a death fairly early into the season. Every man of playing age that could utilise their neder appendages in aid of the game was packaged up and sent out to the highest bidder. 

Even so, what we were left with gave me confidence we'd go unbeaten all season at Stan's.

The second prediction lasted to this day, on the 25th of February in the year of our lord 2012. Forest beat us. Fourth from bottom Forest. Worst defence in the league Forest. And I'm still not quite sure how.

Probably hubris to blame. That phenomenon when you're so arrogant and cock-sure that you take your eye off the ball and ultimately bring about your own doom.

We all had to study Shakespeare at school, and one of the things I remembered and liked about the Scottish play was the whole forest episode. Macbeth was told he'd be invincible until the forest marched on his castle. He obviously thought the idea of a bunch of trees attacking him was rhubarb, so he cockily strutted around, pissing about and being all complacent, leaving doors unlocked, Cds out of their cases, pies on window ledges.

Then in the end the trees get him. I like that, because I like trees and I dislike the Scotch.

And it was a bit similar in the first half at Blues today, we were walking around at strolling pace as if the result was pre-determined, pissing about, playing at half-arsed speed.

Second half we were utterly dominant, missing chance after chance, but when Fahey drills the bar, Curtis places wide from three yards out and Dexter Blackstock kills a lofted ball dead, swivels on the spot and pokes home like David Silva you know lady luck aint on your side. You raise your hands and say 'ok'.

If we could have seen Lady Luck today in heaven she'd have been spit roasted by Clough and Robin Hood. We can't compete with that, and we were punished for failing to win over the lecherous cow's affections. What could we offer her in the firmament? I can't even think of any dead celebrities on our side that would be willing to go in for the team and break up that Yorkshire and medieval gang bang.

Brian Clough was a bit before my time really, I was just a beaver in shorts playing pogs and watching 'Attack of the Killer Tomatoes' when he was king of the castle. But from the footage I've seen and the stories I've heard of the great man I think I would have disliked him.

Seemed very Yorkshire didn't he?

Those types who tend to have been born at the age of 50, tutting at all the paperwork nurses are bogged with down these days as they're yanked out the vagina scowling in their slippers. 

Indignant types who trudge through life acting like every other member of the public is akin to an unwanted visitor on Christmas day who stays in your house too long and puts their feet on your coffee table, burping 'what's for dinner?' 

Imagine your face if met with such a taxing visitor. That would have been Brian Clough's perma-fixed expression 24/7 I reckon, from 1960 to 1993.

I've seen interviews where he's talking to journalists and interviewers like they're naughty school children, and the gooey-eyed football public fawned over it. Weird.

This is a man who walked onto the pitch and smacked a kid around the head when Forest fans celebrated. There's no old school charm in that, it's just called picking on a kid, or being a prat. Ol'Clough wouldn't have struck anyone bigger, they might have hit back.

And he hounded Justin Fashnu something rotten for being one of those 'poofs' that MTV have invented these days.

Not a nice character. Anyway, the game...

Yeah in the end we paid the price for our complacency in the first half and some uncharacteristically bad defending. But the loan players looked sharp and ultimately the defeat might serve as a timely reminder that nothing is given to you in football you always need to work for it. 

Let's leave the forest behind and get out in the clearing.

1 comment:

  1. You're a bit soft on Clough; the old dead bastard was a misogynistic homophobic violent racist drunk.