Fuck it, time to review the season,
It feels like we’ve been on Branson transatlantic balloon ride, been lifted quite high, maybe it was love that lifted us there but ultimately it all ended being a bit of fucking let down. But Hey kid, as one of mothers special uncles used to refer to me, did we have some laughs along the way. For a start there was that Cardiff fingy, where every single freak of nature that ever supported West ham was released for the day.
Weirdo’s with Wigs, Freaks with inflatables, weirdo freaks with Inflatables and wigs (a little scary if the truth be told) and Honkey Tonk Honey’s with Horns. It was the real deal
From the gates of the castle, to upstairs in the Prince of Wales, to the corner of Sam’s and onto the Millennium, we were livin in Hammertown and Pottsy was our Mayor. Eye to Eye Decisions Decisions. This was it.
I was gonna write a load more stuff about unity peace love and havin fun, but loads has been written already and I got a bit bored…… soz. So here are a couple of photos.
But back to the season and I’ve just gotta start here as 10 days before who would have thought that freezing midweek nights in northern outposts, soulless draws in hockey stadiums and own goals in Millwall would ever EVER lead to what we witnessed on Tuesday 17th of May. Un fucking believable.
Words do not do that night justice. The stadium crackled like a whole packet no infact two packets of space dust poppin candy in your mouth. Frothing with fervor I tell ya, we haven’t since this level of euphoria since San Lee’s mum saw her son make his debut for the u15’s. (They’ve released him!! Tony Carr = no nothing cock)
You just had THAT feeling about THAT Tuesday and bit like Hack and his bird dump escape I had my signal from the powers above, when of all the people, in the all the world you have to go spill a half time pint on… is bloody Cass Penant (yes bloody Cass Pennant, flamin Nora) and you get away with it, you know the gods are with you.
Everything was perfection, opera singers, French horns, pyrotechnics (although wouldn’t have minded a firework takes out fan moment, I love it when that happens, some people will do anything for £250) and even fucking “one of the lads’ Jeremy did us proud. He’s alright really ain’t he?? I like him not as much as Coventry Mark but I like him
That night was a roaring success, and yeh the week before at Ipswich was downer but we thought are we gonna let dis elevator bring us down, OH NOOO we just punched a higher floor, and went Crazzeeeee
The undoubted highlight of the season and arguably of the last ten years….. Fannn bloodytastic..Boodiful.
So that was the high point but what went before……. well about 50 games, a clutch of classy own goals, unrivalled in any division and 1-0 leads surrendered more frequently than a Fred Elliot marriage proposal.
Whilst mentioning own goals which on reflection has been an undoubted high of point of the season, at this conjecture I’d like to canvass opinion on the first Monk accolade.
The Iain Dowie Stockport Award – and boy is competition fierce, votes please for
· Dailly in that not really important match vs. Millwall
· Deane claiming his hat trick the Grant McCann way in the ‘Carry on West Brom’ production,
· Repka vs. some one, probably northern, when he scooped the ball into the top corner from a yard,
· Mullins header from the halfway line which made my balti BBQ pub lunch start to repeat.
· Or what surely has to be the fav – Quimmy vs. Wigan away – words do not do it justice. A Fantasy fuck up. Votes please…..
That was own goals, but we did manage to score a few proper goals over the season and looking back on the first match report at home to Rushden, the season had the promise of goals galore, in fact an eat all you can buffet of goals, as Jermaine and our Dave did their darnedest to get to Christmas before passing to each other but this selfish attitude was producing results as they rivaled each other at the top of the scoring charts.
On reflection, in that game, behind a midfield of Lee Sofiane David Noble and Etherington it was little wonder they scored goals. I imagine Rob Youssef and David must be wondering exactly what they did wrong….. (Footnote - Hold on a sec Sofiane – what the fuck, the only headlines he made during his stay was drink driving charge and smearing his nut butter over a Big Brother contestant, French Knob, in Dormski dulcet tones…. Cunt off)
We then had a lull in Monk reports but allsorts were going on at the club, the changing room fiasco at Rotherham, the performance fiasco at Rotherham (which as we came to see over the season wasn’t actually that bad) , and almost inevitably the Roeder fiasco eventually reached ‘Closure’…at Rotherham…as those whoop and holla yanks like to say.
But after the rain comes a beige suited, fall over headerer (that’s like Roger but with an H) ray of sunshine and hope. Enter Sir Trev……
The fatted calf that was offered (well in Dean Windass case the bloated heffer) to welcome the return of the prodigal son was Bradford, we had 3 upfront, a 1-0 win, a cracker from Defoe and a definite sense of optimism about the place
‘Davy C provided the focal point to striking trident as he dropped deep to link play at every opportunity. If our midfield, trioooooooo triooooo daylight come an.., oozed sophistication, class and male grooming products, then our forward treble are from the street, young, punk and shirts untucked. These guys sleep when their dead. They are the chunky Kit Kat to the midfield Ferrero Roche’s.’
But this fresh impetus wasn’t prolonged and as the Trev made it clear he was always just gonna be the mild mannered janitor, the battle to secure his successor, Alan Pardew had begun in earnest.
As Pardew, Pards, the Vicar, was eventually lured and commenced gardening leave we managed a victory over the now manager less Reading through a goal from the undoubted football genius that is Christian Dailly.
‘Dailly though was anything but a cock, he scored, we went wild, he didn’t know what to do. He reacted like he had just been smacked in the face. Turned round in a daze not quite sure what he was supposed to do, half raised his hand in the air and then got bundled. I would like to see a bit of air guitar next time. Fucking German Cheats.’
A mention for Dailly.To say his season was eventful would be like saying George best enjoyed the odd drink. It turned out to be a bit of roller coaster of emotions for our Celtic Captain and saw him reach cult status with the Scotland fans as he produced a memorable televised slating of the Germans and subsequent UEFA rebuke, his soul was then abducted by the Chuckle brothers vs. West Brom, he had more partners over the course of a season than Abi Titmus, picked his front teeth off the turf at the end of the Rotherham game, left his team covered in saliva when he tried to talk, lost his lungs to pleurisy, an own goal at Millwall, being booed at home to Gillingham and finally a superb end of season run of form culminating in that goal vs. Ipswich. Quality entertainment and long may it continue….and no doubt to his ultimate delight he gets a contender for the prestigious Gavin Drysdale award.
· ‘When the balls hits his knackers and the crowd all go crackers it’s the Dailly’
Others that raised a laugh over the season include
· ‘Where’s your murderer where’s your murderer’ as we displayed our caring nature over the Lee Hughes hit and run incident at the Hawthorns.
· The original ‘Premier league your havin a laugh’ at the Wolves cup game, which got milked just a little dry if were honest, (so yeh about as dry as Mother Theresa’s liver sock) by the end of the year.
· We had a couple of entries from the ITBS songster Gilbert O’ Skerrit. ‘When the ball hits the stand and he plays for West Ham its Zamora’ and do dodododododododododododododododododod (change key) dodododododododododododo ooooooooooh Do the Harewood repeat to fade.
· Cecil then pops up with ‘for 24 years we’ve waiting for the chance to have a little sing to have a little dance and all we get is Palace PALACE WHO THE FUCK ARE PALACE’ ummmmmm and the final nomination has to go to the old favourite about your mother with your brother aired on many occasions to much mirth.
Good old Cockney wit eh, they can’t stop us laughing…….
So despite victory over Reading and a Defoe hattrick at Cardiff in the carlingtonberg cup. The cracks were starting to appear and unfortunately I’m not referring to the hammerettes. Trevbrookinclarnbluerrmee was floundering and this was highlighted none more so than in the first game in however long against Millwall. DJ was man of the match, we were shit and what was to be a recurring theme was evident in the match report.
‘Quim - No danger of him getting testing positive for THG, start eating your greens and your crusts. Such a flake, 3
Next up was a resounding home win against Palace noted mainly for Neil Mellor’s only significant contribution to the team, the ginger Scouse had yet to score in about 43 chances that had fallen his way so, but tonight was his night,
‘Ethers, as quick as you like, left footed cross and Mellers jumps like a great Dane catching a frisbee…………. with rosy cheeks, and powers home the header. Phew he says as he turns our frowns upside down. Mellor is brilliant. From Zero to Hero from duffer to …err fluffer. He’s like a piece of bacon, he’s on a roll’
This was a good win over what was at the time a piss poor side but we all left happy although I never did get to the bottom of the Ethnic trapped in turnstile moment. Rumour has it they shipped him back…
‘Unless it was in the first three minutes which I missed as, in a had to be there moment , an Old Indian bloke who’s family (all 28 of em) had gone through the turnstile before him got trapped in the turnstile and couldn’t go into the ground or come back out. The turnstiles had jammed. He was in turnstile limbo. We all had to use another one.
He was gutted. Everyone else laughed. I felt sorry for him. But I still laughed. Sometimes I disgust myself.’
We then moved on to Artic Derby another pretty desperate game but won by a moment of real quality from the Don, the cunt. The day out was alright with the bubbles massage parlour welcoming us at the station.
But that was the last positive result in October. A couple of shitty draws against Norwich and Burnley were to follow.
It was like having a wank with a piece coarse sandpaper pain, we stank the place out. I can’t think of a positive, James left his real arms and legs in Fenerbache. Tomas who I love, I thought was poor for the first 70mins, esp. his distribution. The Norwich midfield of Francis and Holt (FFS Francis and Holt who the blazes…) dominated and then the crane fly of the Nationwide, he must have the lowest blood pressure ever, a bit like a giraffe, put a gay header past James who shepherded the ball safely into the corner of the net.
Never fear we could put those disappointments behind us as Big Al was on his way and he wasn’t gonna muck about. He arrived at what we thought was just the right time, still in a healthy league position and still with great expectations for the season. I mean Norwich and Wigan were top of the league jeeez.
But the club, as we soon painfully found out was in no shape to push onwards and upwards. The scale of the job Pardew took on soon became apparent. The forest game was his debut. ‘Our only real hope was to get the ball out wide and use the pace of our dashing right winger Robert Lee’ and ‘The Pards was a bundle of nervous energy on the touch line, he won’t be pleased with a draw but strangely he did look at home, patrolling the technical area liked a caged white Bengal tiger, letting out the occasional roar and threatening to do a “Roy” on the linesman at any moment.’
It was then onto a footballing defeat to Spurs but a total non footballing result off it as the Cockerel pub got trashed. Green St and Tobias hid from the rozzers in a bookies and provided web updates for pussies like me safe and sound at work. In the ground we created another special atmosphere and that’s not a wheelchair special, a decent show on the pitch followed but we were to lose out to a goal from the exciting talent of Bobby Zamora. I thought to myself that night ..Wouldn’t mind him in my team…ummmmmmm.
In high spirits we the took our merry band to Coventry in what was a proper shit game in which Brian Deane made his debut but despite of this we had a cracking day out. I mean Herts got ejected for smuggling too much lard. An exemplary piece of stewarding I’m sure you’ll agree, I mean look at it….
then there was Mark who was lucky enough to spend the journey with me Stu and Joe.
‘The day had started so promisingly I made a new friend on the train, he was called Mark and wore a Nick Berry hammers rugby shirt, I said “nice top” he said “thanks”. We had nothing in common, infact no further words were spoken. But we bonded, a bit like cement. I liked him.’
Stu was in full poo on a fork mode and it was becoming another all too familiar scenario of great day out shame about the football. Also disturbingly Todd tried it on with Nick. But all the drama that was going on in Corrie was nowt, I say nowt in comparison to what was to unfold in our next home match vs. West Brom.
Deary Deary me, the panto season started early at Upton park on Saturday as West Ham staged there very own version of Pussy’s in Boots. What a bunch of duffers, I swear as Pardew got into his car to leave the ground all the doors and wheels fell off.
They chanted 3 nil and you fucked it up and we were left to trudge home despondent and down, knowing that not even kid’s stars in your eyes was going to pull us out of this abyss. 4-3 defeat after being 3 nil up only in Green St folks and America probably.
Things then got worse, Milton flippin Keynes, flippin place.
‘It was without doubt one of the strangest atmosphere’s you are ever gonna get ever anywhere unless of course you went to Pluto or something. But the open plan effect of the National Hockey Stadium basically means no crowd noise at all. Not a peep. It was so quiet you could hear the players, well our lot just the once, Horlock said a rousing “C’mon boys, effort” it didn’t really have that much effect to be honest.’
We saw the arrival of antihero to be Marlon Harewood and a decent goal from Deane but that was about that in what was a horrible performance, confidence was shot and Hutch was taking the piss with his halftime antics. The mood in the camp is dark but as Granny used to say you have to the lows in life to appreciate the highs and next up came Wigan and they got done so badly..With 2 sent off their defence got to a spam butterfly level of exposure, add in an OG and a pen and it was love in an elevator.
‘The game had highlights none more so than Tomas or Mr. Repka to you lot. How any fan can not enjoy watching Repka play I’ll never know? He squared up to their manager, who is a stinking pickled onion breathed northerner if ever there was one, Jewell, and rattled him. He was targeted by a nobody who in the end Tomas got sent off, with some superb professionalism. I mean McCullough who the fuck are you? Tomas didn’t so much as have him for breakfast he literally dined on him, a full five course meal with Artic Roll for afters and everything. And then the, tip top on your peach halves (in syrup), as he’s subbed to an ovation he then turns round and goes back to the ref to shake his hand. I loved it; I’m applying to become a Czech national as we speak. ‘
A 4-0 that had everyone purring surely this was it, the promotion charge begineth….
West Brom away, led to a disappointing result yet a decent performance, pre match we ended up in what has to go down as the roughest away pub of the season, run by a couple of Indian guys, flock wallpaper, pic of princess Di above the bar and the obvious pub menu of a Balti BBQ. Lovely. Next Monk vote is the Prince of Wales memorial award for the away match boozer of the year
· The Oak – Hawthorns
· The Rocket – Coventry
· Hooters – Nottingham
· The Brewster Pub – Burnley
· That Night Club – Ipswich
· The one on the corner of Wigan second time round.
· The cockerel – Spurs.
You decide….Geordie fucker.
The promotion charge though was still on the horizon despite the draw at West Brom, Stoke at home next, a banker three points………………………..
Stoke…..Stoke City……I still can’t quite actually believe that game panned out like that, we are on the back of two good results against a team whose defence leaks more than a pensioner with prostate trouble, no.. more than the areola of a lactating milky vixen and yet with the most feared strike force in the galaxy we can’t actually force Ed “my your handsome” DeGoey into one worthwhile save.
This was the lowest of point of the season for me, as we were fucking shit, triple shit, the biggest skid on nanna’s white towel…for sure.
Then In time honored tradition just as your ready to throw that towel in we come back with a performance, like Diana sang with Cindy and Mary, they kept us hanging on…… all season in fact…and a bit more…….to Cardiff…the sadists.
2- nil down at half time vs. the black cats, the game ended with a Deane machine inspired 3-2 win . Maybe they did it for Otis and his new friend Henry the hernia who appeared around this time. We also had the Repka armband incident, Tomas had been at the height of his powers for weeks, our best performer, as team form and morale had plummeted.
And it could turn out to be an incident that sorts our season right out. Harewood got stamped on (well a gentle rake of blades really but stamped on gives you exaggeration for emphasis. This is my Hollywood folks……. well pine wood then) A melee ensues. And striding over, the force of nature that he is, our Lord Aragon, Repka, Tomas Repka comes in to sort things out, give Harewood some protection and show Sunderland that you mess with him you mess with me. In Czech the simple translation is a low rumbling growl.
Tomas gets a booking which was harsh, but he’s so incensed that Dailly and the rest of wet lettuce gang have left him to it; He gesticulates wildly to the armband telling Dailly that he’s the captain so start displaying a bit of fight
That moment seemed to spark the side into life and 2 goals from Jermaine and you had to love the life we live
So the brown out’s are replaced with the we love you West Ham’s we do’s, and life just don’t seem so bad, we are singing and dancing in the rain. I jump hold of my nearest lamp post and click my heals in the air. Yippdefrickindooda.
With Monk taking a break for Xmas we saw Defoe sent off at Walsall, a lacklustre defeat to Ipswich but a very good away win at Forest. Defoe with his leaving present a cracker to finish Forest off.
Cup fever was next on the agenda, First weekend in Jan, frost in the air, Motty’s sheepskin, highlight of the football calendar ahhhhhh the FA Cup 3rd round….the glamour……..the romance………….the JJB.
This was a decent performance Connolly scored the winner and Quim scored that goal. News had also filtered through that Brevett was to be out for the season and we had accepted a bid from, of all people, tottingham for JD, but we weren’t bothered, lil Bobby Zee was comin home.
It was back to the Boleyn and back to the disappointment. This man caused the damage………..
Ricardo Fuller…
And is THE number one contender for Jamie Olivier cock of the year award.
· Ricardo Fuller was a cunt and of that there was no doubt but he was rivaled over the season,
· Paul Jewell for wanting it with Tomas,
· Dean Windass for being Dean Windass,
· Danny Butterfield for getting Dave sent off and then his post Cardiff celebrations,
· Denis Wise for his Nescafe wave to the BML,
· Jeff Whitley for his hatchet job on Etherington at the SoL and
· Edwin Van Der Saar for being so fucking good.
Yesss sireeee it’s a tough one but press the red button on your key pads now.
The game ended with a 2-1 reverse and more frustration. But from this came arguably are best run of form of the season. James and Pearce were sold with Melville and eventually the Wimbledon boys brought in. The glass was half full again and A Sky induced late kick off at Sheff Utd, saw John Harley make his debut which meant the back of Quinn and he scored an awesome goal. Harewood got another and Carrick scored a goal that was to signal his return to fitness and form…..at last.
We drew 3-3 but there seemed a definite sense of purpose about the team…at last. We followed that result with a great day out in Wolves, the sun was shining and we took the piss on and off the pitch
The match restarted and we didn’t have to wait long until Marlon, silver boots shimmering in the Midland sunshine, hooked home with the elasticity of an ethnic Stretch Armstrong. It was two nil and we were havin’ a laugh
We saw the game out to win 3-1, cup fever was beginning to get hold……bit like botulism perhaps. Solid wins vs. Rotherham and Bradford set us up for the next round and a visit to Loftus rd and fancy Fulham with their fancy haircuts and their pretty teeth. Even Zamora had scored by this time, the winner against Bradford. Hurraaah he’s better than Jermaine or summat like that.
The Atmosphere at loftus rd was superb and we also played superb, we just could not put the ball in the net.
Then came Edwin’s double save which he basically had to stop on sight. Another wicked cross from Ethers, with Dave looming Edwin produces a last gasp intervention only to then follow this up with a great spread (a real cheese and pineapple hedgehog of a save) to save Carrick’s follow up.
0-0 draw and a replay was the outcome, no worries back at the Boleyn they didn’t stand a chance, well they did and won 3-0 but never mind, we should have been out of sight at half time in that game but kept missing…..Marlon….doofus.
We drew at Norwich in between again missing a hatful but we scored a goal of the season contender with Marlon’s strike from 25yrds….Marlon……..cool dude.
The feel good factor carried through to the next home game with Cardiff So yeh not much to report……………………unless of course you include Spencer Prior with a tampon up his nose, A Cardiff thug of about 90 getting carried out of the Centenary Lower, followed by the Port Talbot Chav strapped into a wheel chair by the St Johns Ambulance with all the comfort and cred of Stephen Hawkings, a snow storm, Tomas head butting the ref, a home debut goal from R’ Bobby and a riot in the Millers…yes a riot in the Millers…..and then to top it off a bit of atmosphere in the ground. Bored out of my brains I can tell ya..
This was a top performance with arguably Michael Carrick’s best game for three years.
‘Although Carrick was the conductor, there were performances all over the pit, Repka and Dailly winning headers like a couple of booming Timpani, Etherington up and down the left like a slide trombone and Reo Coker giving me the horn, a French one maybe, in midfield…. anyway enough of this shit you get the message, we played well’
This was to be one of the best home performances of the season and to follow, came one of the best away days of the season, all the way, on a Tuesday night to blinkin Burnley. On the football side it was getting predictable…build us up bring us down, we never got going at turf moor and a Connolly pen saw us gain a 1-1 draw.
But off the pitch we had a swingin time, the Hack mobile set off early, Skerrit with the kind of conversational charm that makes husbands jealous asked Dan M his thoughts on Mel Gibson’s latest film….repeatedly….for approx 150 miles. We then stopped off outside of Stafford to find a pub, it was well above our usual level of sophistication but not a million miles away from Stan’s Doggy doing’s which allowed us to lower the tone to a suitable level…i.e….the gutter. 5 pints of Stella ,scampi in a basket and then back in the mobile. Dan gave birth to Matthew Etherington Matthew Etherington Matthew Etherington La La La HOI. To this eternal dismay. And that took us merrily to the depths of northerner shire.
Burnley found us a couple of hours before kick off in one of those edges of town,harvester, Brewster type thingy’s. You know the one quiet, family orientated, do a nice steak. Perfect for 50 odd West Ham fans. Skerrit was our leader and the full repertoire was unleashed, getting abuse from old women and seducing cuddly bears. Quality.
And that brings forward the next award of which Skerrit performance is the bookies fav. The “come ere and give us a cuddle you cunt’ award for most leary behaviour from a West Ham fan……
· Stu has to be nominated for Poo on a fork,
· Herts and Mrs. Herts for Escape from Highfield road,
· Green St for Back from Brum and whole host of others I’m sure you will kindly inform and disgust us with us of. Put forward your nominations
Again votes please.
In the real world the AAArtist was on the telly, Smithy fell in love as Skerrit fell out of marriage, Joe got ill and Flash was still West Ham only virtual reality supporter, the hologram hammer…. so a real case of move on nothing to see here then.
Walsall were the next visitors to the Fortress Upton Park and this was another needles in japs eye type of game
‘Walsall came for a point, made it difficult, put ten men behind blahhddy blahhddy blahhhh, talk to the frickin hand. It’s Vinny bloody Samways..Jesus tonight’
It ended 0-0 and like a pleural effusion all the good form and optimism had been being drained away slowly painfully and with a large needle. We did manage to spank a hapless Wimbledon u-17’s side 5-0 which was pleasant enough.
Without playing that well we scored a couple of superb goals and man of the match and not for the first time this season was Mad Matty Etherington. He claimed the match ball which was just reward for being our most consistent, hardworking. biggest foreheaded and most improved player over the season. From the first match report Etherington’s rating went as so ‘Described to me a young Ryan Giggs, I questioned this by saying how young 11? This performance was well gay. He never runs at his man, use your pace boy, knock it and go, hit the line. Jeez I’m not holding my breath on R’Matthew perhaps he was nervous’. 4
Ummm always been a decent judge of player me, but as we saw he improved immeasurably to be our attacking threat and he even got to bone a pop star. Oh yeh, you can take the boy out of the prem but you can’t take the prem….ye yeh whatever. He had a great season and a fully deserved HOTY, and what a goal on THAT night. Now just need that little ditty to catch on……
That Wimbledon victory did nothing for our consistency we were still runny with occasional lumps, it was the beginning of a great run of home form that would eventually see us to Cardiff. But our away form was now to suffer defeats to Sunderland, Millwall and Reading put paid to any automatic promotion hopes and we were left to rely on our home form to take us into a play off spot.
I at this point had the hit the wall, Some would say that a man that was tired of match reports would say he was a man that was tired of life, not even a goal fest vs. Crewe, and Ethers winner with his wrong foot vs. the Gills could inspire a report. We then had to witness Derby at home which saw us at rock bottom again. 0-0.
A bank holiday Monday in Palace for some reason had the air of renaissance, well hangovers mainly but the atmosphere was excellent, as had it been on numerous occasions away from home this year. We had sold out wherever went all season more often than not providing the home team with a record ever attendance.
In fact the atmosphere at that palace game could well be our best away atmosphere of the season…other memorable ones (Cardiff apart) included the final trip up to Wigan, the trip to Stoke, Ipswich both times, Wolves and Loftus road all good days out and free from any of the Boleyn bitching.
So next accolade the Over Land and Sea award for best away support ?? What do we reckon ??
But back to that Palace game we got done but with a weakened side but we put a real fight and if hadn’t been for Butterfield getting Connolly sent off then we would have got a result. You could sense a determination about the side and a realisiation that it was now time as, Gordon Ramsay would say time to take our hands off our sacks and find our balls…Jean Philippe… It was. Now or never, do or die, sink or swim….badaba…. one thing is certain we’ll never give in……time.
Coventry at home 2-0 win, it was pretty dire, but we won and it was my birthday, things were looking up
The match was a non event, we score with our first real attempt of the match and that was only after a massive helping hand for the lino. Zamora was miles off (yeh miles) as Horlock hooked the ball into the box he then expertly took the ball towards the corner flag with his first touch, no point in making things too easy for yourself, where’s the sense of achievement in that, and then on the turn drilled home through the keeper’s legs. Good finish.
Connolly added the second from the spot and the win placed us back in the play off picture and maybe just maybe the season wasn’t over
So onto Stoke and the pain continues, we should have put down a long while ago, even my mate Armin Meiwes let his victim bleed to death for only 6hrs before putting him out of his misery. Its about as enjoyable as eating your own knob at the moment, but somehow we still have plenty left to play for this season, the return of Etherington is paramount, if he returns on Sat and crucially on form then promotion is a possibility if not then let the real Hackapocalypse of our club begin…
Umm not entirely accurate on reflection but we then went to Stoke and had a cracking day, everything fell into place the Sun , the atmosphere and the performance, I made another new friend, don’t know his name but we vowed to keep in touch.
Dave and Marlon scored the goals, the feel good factor had returned just at the right time, we were in a happy place.
Second half we cruised, Connolly seemed to be five yards further up the pitch, Marlon had the beating of his man time and again on the right and Matty was being Matty. Young and athletic in that kinda bendy elastic loose rubber limbed style that he has. Then the goal, a combination of fluency from the rip roaring hammers and truancy from the Stoke defenders sees Matty chip the keeper and Marlon making sure from two yards. Stoke were beaten, there’d been Fennered. Taggart there needs to be a murder… yes you…you Michelle McManus of a defender, I mean I seen lazy, but taking a thrown in whilst lying down, jeez man.
Bring on those stupid fucking Bummer lovin Watford gypo’s. Alan Pardew is havin a party !!!!
The last home game of the season did not disappoint either, a 4-0 win and such a complete performance. The crowd was as animated as it has been at home all season and it was just the perfect result at what was now the money end of the season. All the previous shit had been forgotten and it was a case of ChimChimney Chim Chimney Chim Chim Cherroo Wembley is better but Cardiff will do.
Marlon got a couple and was on his personal mission to the end the season as the leagues leading scorer, it wasn’t to be but another 20 plus goal haul from Marlon was a top achievement. Yeh at times he ain’t all there and has a bit of a funny head and but with those disco feet his potential is evident . You get the feeling he desperately wants to do well for us, I like him and he loves his momma.
The 4-0 win had all but guaranteed our play off place but Wigan had everything to play for going into the final game of the season. We took 8 thou all the frickin way to Wigan and it was a pilgrimage. 6am Sunday and our Merc people carrier took to the roads leaden with haribo’s (sours eggs dummies the Lot) yep you guessed it, pardeeee time. The only traffic on the motorway was hammers, coaches, minibuses stretch hummers all looked the business and with a DVD player we watched a real whodunit of movie (Rocco’s anal nightmares to be precise, it had a plot and everything, Marsh Mongrel found it stimulating ). Our other passengers Silly Bollocks and his mate Sillier Bollocks had taken 6 grams before Watford and were in no mood for Haribo’s all the more for us.. Miserable bastards.
The atmosphere in the JJB was charged, we didn’t really cope with the way Wigan came flying out of the blocks and they deserved the their one nil lead. But we kept on battling and Brian Deane, who in my opinion had been cruelly dumped from the starting line up at the expense of Zamora, got the equaliser in the very last minute…with a header…from 6yards…..watch him score against us next season. This was just rewards for the fans that had travelled up and all in all another great day out.
So the play offs it was, Norwich and West Brom had been promoted, a display of competence and consistency above anything else, and Ipswich were our opponents. A draw both sets of fans seemed happy with.
The scrap for tickets was underway as Cardiff seemed to be our right rather than a possibility. Ipswich was a mere minor irritation that needed to be dealt with swiftly and with minimum fuss, like thrush maybe, great advert by the way for Canestan duo ‘hey are you ok??…what apart from the white fish paste accumulating around the vulva…yeh I’m fine’
A shitty 12 o’clock kick off was the only downside but…
, with the sun shining, a nightclub opened, Hack Snr getting on one at 9am on Shenfield platform, The AAArtist with his banner made out of ‘I’ve scored at Upton park knickers’ and Spiderman running on the pitch it was an eventful day. The nightclub was great, any feelings that drinking at 9am in the morning was wrong were quickly dispelled as sunlight was replaced with a glitter ball and the floors became sticky. I felt a bit self conscious to dance. I just stood around, too nervous to really get down. But as the erection section started it was time to leave, we had a game to watch.
The atmosphere was the business although edged with tension and fair play to Ipshit (ha) fans that seemed to do a lot of rhythmic clapping. We all saw what happened during the match, and in the typical West Ham stylee it leaves us hanging on in there for the home tie.
And so it did and boy did we take it to the bridge that night……….
So that was that a season in the Nationwide, with defeat at Cardiff leaving us contemplating the teeth rotting fizz of the coca cola championship. Fuck knows what players we will have but Alan’s hair will be gray and Dougie will be keepin it real maybe a hose reel , who knows, but fixtures are out and with trips to Plymouth, Brighton and Loftus Rd on the horizons we’ve got even more opportunities for away day shenanigans……. in fact more than you shake a shitty stick at…..Stuuuuuuuuuu….
Until next season……..
For the record from the Match reports av player ratings
1) Smiley Steve – 6.7
2) Dave Connolly – 6.6
3) Tomas Repka – 6.5
Worst
1) Wayne Quinn – 4.3
2) Rob Lee – 4.4
3) Ian Pearce – 4.6
