SOBS V HAMMERS

The Lads hit the Olympic Stadium (or didn't) and won the second half. Unfortunately that was after a first half that was a tale of two captains (we'd lost ours, they had theirs) and in which we couldn't even find the racecourse, never mind be at the actual races. By the time we started playing we were three behind and no light could really be seen at the end of any tunnel.

With the new timetable and the early kickoff meaning I could get there and back from Bishop by train, there was no worry about the potential non-appearance if the number 6 to Durham. Luxury. After a pretty uneventful journey, King's Cross didn't echo to the usual chorus of "ha'way the Lads", but to the sound of a dozen Mackems belting out Cher's "strong enough". Ironic.

You've never lived. 

After a couple of refreshments at the station, in came the team news, with the rumours of a Xhaka injury proving correct:

Roefs 

Mukiele Ballard Alderete Reinildo 

Hume (c) Le Fee Sadiki 

Mundle Brobbey Mayenda 

..and a bench of Patto, Adingra, Diarra, Cirkin, O'Nien, Neil, Isidor, Talbi, and Rigg.

Where to play Hume? Five at the back, or his recent free-roving role? Two up top? Whatever, it'll have buggered up West Ham's spying missions. Well, that was perhaps the plan, which patently didn't work. There was a decent chat with an old school Hammer on the walk to the ground - he agreed that it'd make a decent athletics stadium... oh, hang on. Considering it was built for the Olympics, the transport links are abysmal, with no rail or tube stations within a mile. Oh, and everyone got searched, which held things up a bit. A lot, actually. Then got searched again.

In the manky black kit, we faced the far end and kicked off, and an early Nordi long throw brought a shot from Sadiki on the edge that was tipped over for a corner... and that signalled our main attacking threat (by far) of the half. Long throws are fine, but a cross or two of the conventional type would have been nice.

There was a collective groan of the sort normally reserved for the appearance of American "football" in the TV down the Hoss after the Sunday teatime proper version on the quarter hour when Bowen, who'd spent the previous fourteen minutes turning Reinildo inside out and back again, whacked in a cross that was firmly headed through Roefs.

0-1, and we didn't really respond apart from a header wide after another Nordi throw led to a deep cross from our right. While we were still wondering if Hume was midfield or defence he popped up in our box to trip Scarles. Soft? Not really, and definitely not in the Prem. Bowen, hard and low, just to the left of Robin's fingertips. Bah, but not really a shock, other than it was awarded on 35 and converted on 38.

Yellow cards came in for Ballard (harsh) and Reinildo (no surprise) for another foul on Bowen as he drove towards the box from their right. We managed to clear that, but kept passing to home players (Trai, I'm looking at you, but not just you) and us fans were praying for halftime and a shakeup - but with three to go it fell to Fernandes well outside our box and he hit a rocket high to our keeper's right.

Game over, head for the netty and miss whatever added time there was. I'm told it wasn't enjoyable, and I've no reason to suppose otherwise.

Unlike most games, there were immediate changes for the second half, with Hume, Mundle, and Reinildo unsurprisingly hooked in favour of Cirkin, Diarra, and Talbi - and the difference was immense. Well, noticeable at least, but the Xhaka-shaped hole in the centre was still there, if a little smaller as Enzo started to influence things.

Diarra was showing strength moving forward in the inside right channel (6, 10, or 8?) and had a shot blocked for a corner. Ooh, potential - but they cleared it, only for Mukiele to drive down the right and belt in a cross which Brobbey header firmly home. Girrup! 25 to go? Perhaps, as it sparked us into a bit more life.

The Albert Square reject who was trying to give us abuse succeed only in embarrassing his missus, and prompted us to sing "you sold your soul, for this 5hithole" - and a good few Hammers joined in. Unfortunately, there were a couple of home fans chucking pop bottles at us, which the stewards did nowt about. We were given further opportunity to boo when former mag sicknote Cal Wilson came on and didn't get injured, so we brought on Issy for Mayenda. 

He put himself about a bit, hitting a bit of an air shot before Sadiki got booked, then we replaced Mukiele with O'9 - and Nordi didn't look too chuffed. Luke proceeded to hit in a naughty cross that nearly deceived the keeper, going off him onto the bar and back into his grateful grasp at the near post.

Four added minutes, in which they hit the bar and barged Roefs in the aftermath. It looked a foul from 250 yards away, and eventually it was given. Small mercies, I suppose. Strangely, the home fans sang that they take over everywhere they go, which drew even more derision from our lot and had the Albert Square exile's wife shifting a few seats away from him.

Then that was it. After probably (hopefully) our worst 45 of the season, we'd woken up far to late to make a difference. I suppose it's all about learning, but I would have thought we'd learned enough since August not to do what we did(n't) do in the first half. 

Well beaten, then the convoluted walk back to the station and a grateful pint in the Lamb in the company of some local lasses, one of whom was a Hammer. Nice chat, pint in The Boot (which has lost the Tony Norman picture since my last visit) then away hyem.

Man of the Match? Probably Brobbey 'cos he scored in the dreaded black kit and generally looked OK, although Talbi's second half contribution can't be ignored. Other than that, Diarra was canny and Roefs unblamable - the rest? Not good, but Regis simply got his tactics wrong for the kickoff. Like I'm an expert.

Let's forgive and forget, eh? We're still better off than most of us could have hoped.