It can be tiring following Sunderland. Take the game at Brighton this season as a prime example – you spend best part of two days on a bus, the team selection was rubbish, and those that were picked just couldn’t be arsed. Then you have days like today, which, by their very being (midweek. awkward to get to, all of that stuff), are simply effing marvellous.

The vagaries of our national railway system meant that the best option I could manage included an hour in Leeds, where they no longer get that worked up about a Sunderland shirt. A nice stop there included a pint of Leeds Light – at over £3 a shot, who do they thing they are?- then back on the train to start writing this up. Until the train broke, and we were knocked back a few minutes.

Never mind, I was still in King’s Cross in time for a couple with Pete and Anne before the ride out to the Central on Shepherd’s Bush Green, where we met up with the other bits of the Durham branch, the Aboriginal postman, the silly mag, and Marcus with the lads from Shields.

I’ve has a lot of decent things to say about Loftus Road, what with is being small and comfy and that, but after five minutes it lost all of its quaintness. Had there been any more polis or stewards, there simply wouldn’t have been room for us.

Westy
O’Shea Brown Bramble Bards
Larsson Vaughan Catts Rico
Sess
Bendtner

…and kicking towards us in the first half, in a ground which I like, but in which I wouldn’t be surprised to see netball hoops on the front of the home end.

So, Catts in ahead of Colback – maybe to be more in the face of Joey Barton, in a ”don’t’ you look at me” situation – and to be fair (from someone who has been as far from his biggest fan as it is possible to be) the Lad did very well. He tempered his natural inclination and put his foot in at the right time. After weathering a little storm in the opening minutes, we almost drew the first blood when Larsson’s cross from a free sort of bounced up off the grass into Bendtner, and the header looked to hit the post before it was cleared.

Remember Paddy Kenny for Bury when we won 5-2 there, back in the day? When he had a floppy haircut and we called him Rick Mayall’s love child? Well if you don’t, he was the bloke in goal today – a bit balder, a bit fatter, but still a decent keeper. Well, he got in the way of what we hoyed at them, including the corner that followed Nicklas’s effort, and started to really get on my bits. Rico fired wide in our next attack when we had a numerical advantage, then we had to go on the back foot. SWP (as he likes to be called, so I’m told) was having a bit of a go down their right and forcing Bards into a number of hoofs clear, but the boys in the middle did their job.

Seb slung in several crosses from the right (as you’d expect), Catts put n a lot of good tackles, and Bards just kicked as far as he could if the ball sat up nicely for him. To be fair to Catts (of whom I’m a long way from being the biggest fan) the Lad did well today. In the first half, he held back just enough while scaring the daylights out of their players and still managed to put in a few decent passes. Nice stuff.

Some good play forced a corner on our right after about twenty minutes, and Shaun Derry thought it was a good idea to put his arms around O’Shea and follow him out of the box – all of which allowed Bendtner to fly in at the front post and thump in a header. Just what the manager ordered, and the Cue for slightly unsafe lowping about in the Upper School End. OK, only 70 minutes to hold out, but I’ve seen it happen before, ‘cos I’m dead old like. A couple of minutes later, Rico ran through what defence they managed to put in front of him, but slashed his shot a yard wide. We followed this with more attacks – a corner from our right was met by Larsson, but he could only volley it into the grass, and the home side’s muscular defence got there first to clear.

Rico spent the rest of the first half breaking down the left (and occasionally doing damage elsewhere), and he just about managed to outdo Larsson in the “hoy as many crosses in as you can” competition in the first half.

Westy did well with the crosses that QPR flung in, and Catts seemed to revel in the role of Chief Tormentor of Rat Boy (I think that means working Barton’s ticker summat rotten). Bendtner got in the way of clearance with his face, prompting chants of “one Nicklas Bentnose”, as he upped his “getting stuck in “ game – and he looked to have won a penalty when his shot was charged down, with the ref indicating no penalty because the defender had blocked the ball with his arm. Hmm – like to see that one again.

When the break arrived, we thought we were well worth the lead, and we were asking why this was the hottest London game in years, it being December and all that nonsense - mind, the nights will be fair drawing out by the time you read this.

We looked to make it a bigger lead straight after the break. They brought on Taraabt (sp, but it’s that bloke who thinks he’s Pele and Shack rolled onto one) for SWP. We produced the first threat of the second half, with Sess running at them, but shooting wide. There was a decent passage of play that saw Bendtner and Rico exchange passés before the latter shot well wide when he could have carried it a bit further before lowsing.

All of this preceded a bit of home pressure, needing Titus to head off the line to keep our lead safe. Bendtner challenged on halfway, the loose ball dropped in our favour, and Sess set off on a 50 yard run, left a few defenders in his wake, then sold Kenny a dummy that could probably star in a Blackpool exhibition for years to come. With the Irishman going one way, Sess was already going the other, and he clipped the ball into the net to make safety in the Upper School Lane End a consideration of the past.

To be honest, if we’d stopped the game then, the home side couldn’t have complained (well, mebbe the manager could have) if it had ended there, but fair play to QPR, they came at us like something rotten for a while.

The ref, Mr Marriner, left the field for a while (nasty soiling incident? I couldn’t possibly comment, as he’d thrown more than a couple of decisions homewards) but returned in the form of Mr Atwell , fastening his shorts as if in defiance of incontinence and continue to spoil our evening.

Guess what happened next? They fired in a cross from their left, there was a bit of a tangle, and what looked like a QPR hand or arm was up in the air to divert the ball into our net. That was way less than nice or deserved, but what followed was worse. Within a few minutes, they floated one in from their left (again) and this time managed a proper goal to level it and the PR people did their best to spoil the game by playing the Boro Pigbag tune.

Oh, grow up man, QPR.

At this point, we in the away end began to get nervous. Could we hold onto 2-2? Was 2-2 enough? Would the two subs (Colback and Gardner for Vaughan and Seb) be able to get into the game enough to win it? Almost immediately, as Sess broke for the umpteenth time, but on this occasion his run at a nervous defence prompted him to pass too far ahead of Rico. Oh damn. There was a free kick in Larson territory, but as he was no longer involved it was Gardner who fired it off the wall for a corner.

We knew there would be a fair amount of injury/refsortingout time, but Bards, who (to be fair) had been restricted to a good deal of hoofing the ball a very long way got a bit of momentum going and fired a beaut which was tipped away for a corner. From the corner, on our right, Rico belted it in, the roof of the net bulged, and we bounced about in delight. He’s big he’s bad he’s Wesley Brown! I’ve seen some dramatic games at QPR (including another 3-2 win, Niall Quinn’s superb game. SKP’comeback, etc, etc) but this was one of the best. Two up, and deservedly so, but then letting in two not-too-clever goals before nicking in slightly funny circumstances. Yee hah!

The six added minute seemed like six hours as West collected whatever they threw at us – but it was worth it as we held out, managed to find Colin’s lens (should have gone to Specsavers), and breathed a huge sigh of relief with the win. Back to the Lamb for a couple of libations to get my voice back and wonder how Billy L managed to get his dog into a Prem game – even Mackem Spaniels are top supporters, and even they can go “woof” when the mags get beat.

So it was back on the tube to Bloomsbury, a couple of celebratory pints, then into my fairly comfy pit near King’s Cross to watch the highlights on the telly.

Man of the Match? Well, Lee Cattermole may not be on my Christmas card list yet, but tonight he played a really good game. OK, there was another booking, but he largely controlled himself and balanced getting stuck in with playing the sensible ball. Well done lad – just stay away from Stowell Street.

Keep the Faith!

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