On a very wet and quite windy afternoon, the Lads didn't deal with a sodden pitch and Pompey did - simple as that. We got exactly what we deserved, which was wet. We shouldn't have bothered, really.
Portsmouth away - a proper mission, and the day got off to a good start - not - with the non-arrival of the service bus, meaning a frantic drive to Durham station. Then I discovered an empty pocket where my match ticket should have been. This drew genuine sympathy from the two young Wolves-bound mags on my table, although they were on the G&T at seven in the morning. They did wish me good luck when I changed trains, and sounded like they meant it. Honest. Nice lads, daft choice of team.
With a ticket sorted around half ten by Claire Bell, I was in a happier mood despite getting to Kings Cross twenty minutes late. Still, ample time to catch the Waterloo to Pompey (via everywhere) and settle down for my single can and contemplate the Pompey weather forecast...98% chance of rain, 43mph winds. I was fully expecting less of the gentlemanly conduct exhibited by Cheltenham (throwing the ball to us for our throw-ins and corners) to be shown by a Portsmouth side desperately trying to find form in a new playing style. Shaking off the straight-Jackett of the hoof and run formula of the previous gaffer will take some doing.
Hoffmann
Winch Wright Flanagan Cirkin
O'Nien Evans
Dujaku Embleton O'Brien
Stewart
We kicked off away from our fans, and tried a couple of dunks (sorry, dinks) over the home defence, but Stewart and O'Brien were unable to get there first. In fact, it was Pompey who showed first, by not letting the ball bounce. There was already a lot of standing water in the corners (which possibly explains the absence of Huggins, as he'd have been waist deep) but not much came of the crosses. Wright showed several times that his left peg is made of mince, before deciding that he'd turn back to the keeper rather than slash another into the seats.
It was patently obvious that our fast-passing game couldn't work on that pitch, and the home side went ahead when the ball came in from the left and Harness swivelled on the edge of the box to fire low just inside Hoff's right-hand post. That was on twenty minutes, and thirteen later Brown added the second as we dithered and hoped for a free kick for Winch that never came.
We had plenty of the ball, but simply gave it away far too often when passes stuck in a puddle or went straight to a blue shirt. Another cross from the left, after Winch was deemed guilty of a push, caused us problems on the stroke of half time, and Marquis fired across Hoff and in. We were already singing "call it off" anyway, and the chant doubled in volume after the goal.
Wet, and getting wetter as the roof didn't stop the rain blowing in from the back, we had plenty to moan about during the interval. I'd not have been surprised if it had been called off, as the fifteen minutes spent by the groundstaff with rakes and a water-sucking-up vehicle were having no affect at all.
Out they came, with Doyle on for Embo and we went three at the back. It did change the dynamic a bit, in that we played what little football we managed a bit further up the field. Conditions were worsening, with the corners and other areas being more like the Everglades than a football field. Fifteen minutes in, Marquis was in the right place to knock in the fourth and we responded by hauling off Dajaku a few minutes later. He'd been guilty of trying too many little flicks in puddles, but he wasn't the only one. On came Pritchard, who was in serious danger of going underwater several times.
Five minutes later, Neil came on for Evans, who'd actually managed a shot - that was blocked for a corner. We had a few more, but things were farcical as players on both sides swiped at a ball that never arrived, slid yards in the tackle, and sliced passes and shots ball over the shop. The sort of conditions you'd think twice about playing in on a Sunday morning. Somehow, we ended up having nearly 2/3 of possession, but did nowt with it. Game over.
Man of the Match? Probably O'Nien, as he at least tried to hit it before it sank.
Rotten day out - mebbe fate was trying to prevent my trip. I'll know next time.
