Ricoh: Coventry Away

So we are into the next round of the F.A. Cup. Along with teams like Tottenham, Man United, Chelsea and even surprise Premier team-of-the-season (so far) Leicester City” in the hat”. And the draw – actually a massive anti-climax – is live on TV (I mean how exciting is it to watch grown men literally take shiny black, numbered balls out of a transparent bowl and gibber on inanely about them?) Please be careful how you answer that one.

And, though I’m hoping for a home draw (Tottenham would be memorable thank you: though they still have to beat Leicester in a replay) a big team away (Liverpool perhaps?) I am actually a bit deflated when we get pulled out to play either Huddersfield or Reading (the replay is one of a number that evolved from the weekend’s fixtures.).

But then I cheer up. We are still in it! We could go further and life is very positive at the moment.

Arrangements are made for the trip to Coventry’s Ricoh Arena (been there before for a stunning Bruce Springsteen concert) and we set off: instruction for the rendezvous with Chris tapped into the Sat-Nav and Jack chomping at the bit before we are three miles from departure point and filling up with fuel.

 

The car park is pre-booked: good thinking JB and we negotiate the traffic, miss a couple of turns, puddle about until we reach the man standing by the building. A different way back to he car park which we passed on the way in to the city centre. We cannot see the historic cathedral but it is, apparently just out of the window … somewhere.

Coming in we were all impressed by the way that traffic going in to the car park was being managed. Filling in, it appeared rom furthest away, packing the cars in very systematically. But now, with fifteen minutes to kick – off the drivers of cars are less patient – and – just – want – to – park —Goddammit!

A free-for-all develops, the few enthusiastic stewards unable to exert control and we jam our car into a nearest to the exit space. Pile out quickly. Move away. Not furtively, with confidence – and speed! Like a crack S.A.S. unit deploying from a below the radar helicopter insert (O.K. this is only in my mind right? I didn’t actually type and publish that bit did I? Whoops, too many hours on Call of Duty!)Nobody has told us we cannot park there – and remote, central door locking is brilliant for this, therefore it must be OK, right?

(Incidentally I am put in mind of the U.S. political parties: one says if it doesn’t say (in the Constitution that you cannot do a thing, then obviously you can; the other says the opposite). But by the time the thought has crystallised we are in the underpass and approaching the imposing stadium. Big, shining, white whale of a place that it is.

Actually now owned by a rugby club hailing from London (wasps) Coventry City F.C. are hanging on to games here by the skin of their proverbial teeth … and probably won’t be here for much longer anyway.

But having said that it is a monster of a ground to be visiting at league One level. Entrance is efficient, but, typically, once inside the reserved seat numbers mean nothing at all. So we wiggle our way down to the front, behind the goals. Well tiered seating, spacious and no girders to obstruct the view of the pitch. The floodlights are mounted along the inside edges of the roofing. The light they cast is magnificent and is reflected back off a lot of falling rain.

We’ve talked about concerts, the Cup draw, Alf Tupper (probably), David Bowie (who has died somewhat unexpectedly – to the public – of cancer) and chewing gum. The pitch looks massive from where we are, as wide as it is long. This is almost certainly our point of view, particularly as at home games we sit at the side of the pitch. There is a wide space too between the spectators and the playing surface and a bunch of volunteers (?) unenthusiastically waving Sky Blues flags on the pitch. That is how hard it is raining. Really!

The teams are announced. Our players must be tired: small squad, lot of games, injuries and niggles creeping in, taking toll.

And Coventry look fast and intelligent. They push and they are speedy. Maddison in mid-field complimenting former England player Joe Cole (carrying a bit of timber we note smugly) and teenage prodigy Armstrong on loan from Newcastle United up front. They are relentless and we look out-paced but dogged.

But we put some moves together, have a few raids (Mantom off-side unfortunately on one of our most promising). But the referee is intent, it seems on giving the home side every advantage, every free kick and opportunity. A Saddlers player makes a challenge the Coventry player goes down and gets a free kick.

And from one of these they score. We cannot see exactly how, but a looping free kick, driven low, probably off a head or two is in the back of our net … and we are under serous pressure. Sean O’Driscoll in a post-match interview will admit that we “didn’t know what to do”. But we did something: sawyers out on the wing to link up with Hendry, Evans back a little more, Bradshaw trying to get into the game, Lalkovic hustling …

… and, somehow we get to half time only one goal down.

At some point in time the driver gets a ‘text. There is a picture of the car in its unique parking place and a message that says the lights were left on. (Oh the registration plate is diplomatically pixelated, but it is so obviously “our” car.) Dilemma: is it a trick to lure us out so we can be nailed for our unusual parking? If nobody goes to turn the lights off will the battery be drained when we get back and we’ll be, gulp, stranded?

Manfully, Cully takes the responsibility and goes out, turns ‘em off and is back again. Efficiently and swiftly. No trick, just considerate parking marshalling. How wonderful. They had the phone number because the spot was pre-booked. Excellent service. Thank you people.

I have been and got coffees and it is getting cold (well, come on it is January!) and the second half kicks off. We look more composed now, pressing higher up and I am, once again amazed by the never-say-die attitude of these players. Battered? Yes? But still in it and making a fist of getting back into the game. Always possible when you are only a goal down.

“We only need one!” the guy next to me keeps saying, “just one!”

But, having seen some cracking football this season it is – sadly perhaps – inevitable that I (and others get frustrated, Sam Mantom’s passes are poor, Lalkovic is not getting involved enough, Evans is too slow …

Truth is maybe none of these is correct. Coventry are one place below us and paying at home and both determined and skilful. Our players may be tired. Out-fought even.

But, bless ‘em nobody told ‘em it was time to give up. As the second half develops there are substitutions: Forde on for Lalkovic and Demetriou on for the game Liam Kinsella. Later Evans makes way for Jordan Cook.

Are we fitter? We become more forceful as the game goes into the last fifteen minutes or so. Or are Coventry dropping back to defend the lead.

We try to get the winner, but as the final whistle goes all of our support hasn’t made it happen –and there are nearly fifteen hundred of us there!

 

If that is the case they made a mistake. Sawyers sweeps a pass out to Henry, who crosses into the box and – was it Sawyers or Bradshaw that had the final touch? Really difficult to tell from where we are. But it is definitely and equaliser and we Walsall fans are roused and cheering. There are, after all, nearly fifteen hundred of us there.

 

We try to get the winner!

But at the full time whistle we are sharing the points. We stay third in the table: Coventry fourth: a good psychological boost.

So we descend stairs and more stairs and exit the ground – relieved, proud and happy. Another game in which we might have gone under but that intangible spirit kept us going.

The car starts up first time (phew) and we are discussing how to get to Bury (away on Saturday). I make a note to check whether that poster I saw for an Ian Hunter concert is current and talk lapses to flood defence systems and listening to interviews – it is eventually cleared up: Bradshaw’s goal!

 

 

Strikers … One Step Forward Please.

So, it was confirmed today. David Moyes, chosen by Sir Alex Ferguson among others as his successor is out of a job. The price of failure. The pressures of football management. Or maybe any kind of management when the stakes are financially or artificially high.

Seems a somehow disloyal decision to me, but then I support a local club that’s run, it would appear on completely different lines. They’re the “toffs”, we’re Alf Tupper on his way to training via Winton’s chippie and doin’ a paper round on the way.

Meanwhile Wolves are promoted as champions and Brentford also get promotion. The knock on effect of that is that Walsall get another slice of cash for Will Grigg (one of our key forwards last season).

He couldn’t agree a deal with Dean Smith and moved to Brentford in the close season, but we were due some money. The F.A. needed to set up a tribunal as the two clubs couldn’t agree on a figure. But the tribunal was (wickedly) late for we could have done with the money during the transfer window so as to be able to nab something that resembled a replacement. Not to be – and the authorities remain bullet-proof. Then eventually they got together and we were granted an initial £325,000 with additional clauses.

Now, with Brentford qualifying for promotion, we get an additional £50,000. Bonus. And we need a dyed in the wool striker! Dean Smith should get some of the money to spend. And he should be able to start looking soon (hint, hint!)

Craig Westcarr has been our season-long front man, but, with all due respect he is not an out-and-out striker. Sure, he can hit the ball, has vision, but lacks the aggression to get in where it might hurt and the killer instinct to put himself in the right places. Sawyers was worth keeping, but is inconsistent: a talented ball player but lacks application sometimes.

A year ago, losing the three doing-well strikers (Febian Brandy, to Sheffield Utd, Jamie Paterson – Notts Forest and Will Grigg, to Brentford), really knocked us back. But, after a surprisingly reasonable season, we need to be in the market. And we have money. Don’t we?