Home » Less Casino Royale, More Chicken Badge Royale With Stale Cheese

Less Casino Royale, More Chicken Badge Royale With Stale Cheese

By The Boy -

The Europa League.

Unfit for purpose since Christ knows when.

I blame myself for being stupid enough to have ventured as far as to sit down in front of my television set.

The clue was there in the last blog by my own hand and even I didn’t spot it.

Stadium capacity 18,500, population of the ruddy island, 36,500. Where did I imagine the fans were going to come from?

There was more chance of the Red Cross diverting Syrian refugees to the principality and giving them each a ticket for last night’s game than there was of that turning into a decent match.

The commentator on BT Sport said that there was a feeling of decay about the stadium. The tired looking and mostly empty yellow seating  glumly proved the point.

Unenjoyable fayre unconvincingly passed off as European football.

THFC got in earliest on the deceit front and flogged package tickets for the game, to include a flight out on the team plane, accommodation and drinkie poos – all for the wrong end of three grand.

Unless you’re 12 (which appears to be the club’s current demographic), I’m struggling to see the value of being trapped on a flight with a group of people you do not know, who are guarded in what they say , that you have nothing vaguely in common with.

To then spend what, 24hrs in one the most expensive places on planet earth, but instead of actually having an experience of a lifetime, you’re shuttle bussed to a derelict football pitch.

The decision to field what was arguably our strongest XI available for selection struck me as another queer one that smacked more of a marketing exercise than the work of a coherent coach.

Monaco were as good as their league position and form, and we didn’t lose by dint of a tap-in that wasn’t worth travelling from Whetstone to Barnet to watch.

Of course, this technique worked masterfully last time round and overplaying our hand against the modest Carrier Bag only served to inexplicably fire us up; Manchester City got thumped 4-1 in the tail spin.

By which logic, Swansea City have probably already submitted a request to the Premier League asking if they may be allowed to throw this weekend’s game.

Seven of our lot who played in the City game played last night and this may have had some bearing upon how low our adrenaline levels (both mentally and physically) looked.

Had Vorm served up the performance Lloris did, then he’d be in for dogs’ abuse this morning. That’s the truth if it.

Rose was the highlight of an otherwise disinterested looking back four.

Dier looked tired and our midfield was pretty much an entirely umemorable muddle as both sides attempted but failed to adopt a pressing style.

Pressing is not what either got. Instead it was like two people trying to access a revolving door at the same time, neither achieving anything more than preventing the other from walking through the bloody thing.

Our front four who were so tireless against City looked out of sorts and so there was a vaccum of uninspired gormlessness between Dier and Kane.

Yet again, Eriksen found the strain of two games in too many days too much for her.

Harry Kane appears determined to play himself out of what is clearly his ‘difficult second album’.

I can only begin to describe the daftness of this tactic. He ought to have been subbed and been grateful for the hook.

Live to fight another day.

What I can predict for Kane is not good. If he carries on in this vein, the fatigue and failure will fog his mind, that’s if the physioroom doesn’t get to him first.

We need Kane to come good, this will not happen by him barging about, making the place pong of desperation.

Son’s broken legs or whatever ails him, and the wholesale absence of any other strikers on our books look set to only exacerbate the situation.

Less Casino Royale, more Chicken Badge Royale with stale cheese.

 

 

 

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