What the Dickens is going on? Last week we had a Tale of Two Penalties and this week, a little bit of cold weather and a football match is called off. Tranmere and their fans have traveled some distance for nothing, although to be fair when I got up this morning and saw that the temperature had dropped to -8 degrees centigrade it was a fair bet that there would be casualties in the fixture list. It’s unfair to blame anyone in particular though. Decisions have to be made through consultation between ground staff, match officials and the two clubs involved, not to mention the rules set in place by the authorities.
Actually today has served to illustrate just how little control anyone has over the success of a football club. What do I mean by success? It used to be demonstrated by league and table position. Nowadays it seems to be measured in terms of financial standing and in these days of the so-called credit crunch I should imagine several clubs are skating on thin ice. It feels like we could be heading into an era of Dickensian depression.
Certainly most of us had Great Expectations at the start of the season, but at times the stadium has seemed nothing more than a Bleak House. There have been some notable performances such as the 5-0 drubbing of Carlisle, but in the main we are all guilty of holding out our arms and asking for more. We really need the magic of David Copperfield to get us back into the Championship at the first attempt.
We might have the Artful Dodger in the number 11 shirt, but any combination up front might be regarded as Dombey and Son, and what we really need is for the man between the sticks to act like Scrooge and keep a lot more clean sheets. We’ve got Tiny Tim and Little Dizzet plugging away in midfield but we need more Phiz. Last season we had The Mystery of Edward Sheringham, and this year it feels more like The Old Curiosity Shop with a different line-up each week, players coming and going on loan, getting injured, and the occasional stretches with Oz.
Oh well, I’m off to Dingley Dell for a spot of cricket.
Hard Times indeed!
First Cuckoo 