Blackburn #2, this time it’s personal. It was Saturday, it must be Blackburn. An early chance to avenge the nonsense of Wednesday night, and not too long a trip down the country to do so.

As it was the North West, it was Lancaster. I’d spent Friday thinking of ways to avoid Pudsey the ****ing bear, then given up, cashed in another handful of ‘Spoons vouchers on a pint and a cheap meal, then legged it out of town to the Sportsman at Canney Hill, thankfully a proper pub again. Propping the bar up was my eldest, so a game of doms ensued (although our lass was mortified to learn that he’d tried to play a five on a blonk because he thought it was a wildcard, what did we teach him?)

The White Cross decide that seven of us battering on the door at ten past eleven wasn’t good enough reason to open up, so we retired to the Ring ‘o Bells for a some lovely Coniston Bluebird and watched in amazement the origami barmaid. Probably the best use of the Daily Mirror that you’ve ever seen. We also exchanged stories of car handbrakes, and I won’t tell you who’s was the scariest. I will say that you should steer well clear of Ron’s drive, though. Having slaked our thirsts, we tried a couple at the John O Gaunt, complete with fully restored Ollie Reed memorial headrest, bought various pies and meat products at the marvellous market, and headed for Ewood. Even the text messages and photos from the honeymoon couple in Key West couldn’t put us off our nice day out.

Fulop
Bardsley Noz Ferdy Collins
Steed Tainio Deano Richo
Cisse Jones

Strangely, we still had Roy Keane in charge. According to the people who make a living at this game, he was on his way, walking out due to lack of backing from the board, but there he was, picking the team, shouting the tactics, and generally doing his job the right way. Like he’s said in the press, that’s what he’s there to do, and he made what he considered the necessary changes. The huge travelling support, despite a few gaps in the potential 8,000 seats, made their feelings know from the off, and the team responded with a first half of imagination and no small amount of flair. Tainio kept the proceedings calm and sane by doing what he does best –keeping it simple. Blackburn had a few chances, but for once our luck was in as they contrived to miss or hit the woodwork. Richardson was tending towards the left and generally dictating play, while Jones and Samba were having a monumental battle with Cisse always threatening to burst through. The pace on the man is frightening, and it must make his team-mates feel really good that the option of knock and watch him run is always there. With Whitehead doing his usual job of covering every blade of grass, it looked like we might get to half time level, or even sneak one. It was not to be, as once again we fell victim to a set piece, and the giant Samba thumped home a header from a corner right on 45. Bugger, that took the taste from the half time pies, not that you could taste them due to the number of folks smoking tabs in the bogs.

Reid replaced Tainio (will he ever be properly fit?), and played his usual controlled game. While the first half had been about adventure (sort of) the second was very much about knowing exactly what was required and playing a controlled game to achieve it. After only five minutes, Robinson didn’t do too well with a corner, and Jones reacted brilliantly to knock home an overhead kick. Magic, and we stayed calm to press the home side from then on. Twenty minutes later, and Malbranque played in Cisse, who calmly clipped the ball over Robinson. At first it looked like it was going well wide, from my seat at least, but Lord Frodsham’s aim was true and in it went in to send the visiting fans into ecstasy. We pressed forward, we brought on Leadbitter for Malbranque and later Yorke for Cisse, and those two helped keep hold of the ball to run the game down. The added time seemed to take an eternity, but when the whistle went, it was a feeling of job well done as well as the understandable joy. Roy had played a tactical masterpiece and outwitted Ince (not my favourite person in the world anyway) by using the players he had to their full potential. I’ve already said that Tainio kept it simple, but Richo must surely be pushing for a place in the Engerland squad purely by being good at what he does. Always looking to play in the forwards, and speaking of the forwards, for the first time since Quinn and Phillips the opposition must look at our teamsheet, see “Jones and Cisse” and think “oh shit.” For power, persistence, and simply being in you face, Jones is scary. For power, persistence, and speed, Cisse is scary. That and being the ultimate showman, superstar, and generally all-round good bloke.

A big, big win that’s probably worth a lot more than the three points it gave us.

So I’m a happy chappy as I wrote this, but not at all happy with the ref, who tried his best to fill his notebook like an autograph collector in a game that had its moments but was never dirty. Add to that the message from our Ian – “Titus Shambles had equalised in the last minute against the mags.” So he does have his uses (Bramble , not our Ian).

Man of the Match? I was thinking of Richardson, but Cisse scored the winner, he knows how to handle the big occasion, and gave his shirt to a bairn in the front row again, so I’ll give it to him A genuine bone fide superstar who loves the stripes.

A few more winnable home games coming up, and we could move even further up a table that’s tighter than a duck’s bum...

Keep the faith

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