That sinking feeling
It’s rare that a sporting occasion makes you feel sorry for the fans. One way or another, you go into every game knowing full well that there’s a pretty good likelihood that you might lose. And for the 80 per cent of us that don’t support Man United of Chelsea, that’s what normally happens. Sometimes though, events conspire to really put someone through the ringer and you’ve simply got to feel sympathy.With that fitting precursor, I’ll introduce you to Russ. Russ is my housemate, a thoroughly nice and generally drunken bloke, and, for his drunken sins, a West Ham fan. This weekend I felt awful for Russ. In a season of capitulations, misplaced confidence and decisions bordering on the suicidal, the last seven days in the season saw a neat overview of where the club is right now. In short, they got charged by the FA for fielding ineligible players (that will undoubtedly lead to a points fine), they fined one of their own for breaking club rules following a forbidden pan-Atlantic birthday jaunt, they gave their manager the vote of confidence, they lost a game they were 2-0 up at half time and 3-2 up with five minutes to go, and they all but confirmed a clear-out of epic proportions come the summer. Ouch.
There are few who come out with any credit from this season-long fiasco. While Tevez has been lauded for the effort he’s put in (on the pitch as well as in Burger King, by the look of it), he’s most likely playing not to save West Ham but to ensure a credible club buys him come May. Curbishley can point to the fact he inherited a failing team, but he’s had a whole transfer window to play with, alongside a large proportion of the season to sort out the club’s problems. That the Irons are playing worse now than under Pardew is telling. Other than that, it’s hard to think of one positive. Mark Noble’s desire and goal on Saturday has been allowed to shine too late, while Curbishley gambled, wrongly, on financial motivations pulling West Ham from their plight rather than trusting in hungry, willing players as Pardew did with Alex Song, for example.
The winter buys are an enigma of their own. Each, individually, has merit. Boa Morte was Fulham’s talismanic captain, frequently changing games of his own accord while at the Cottage. Under Curbishley he’s looked uninterested and unworthy of a training bib half of the time. Upson has been a rock for Birmingham this season, but he’s never been any more than brittle as he’s shown so far in his Hammers career. Lucas Neill is a money-grabber short and simple. Anyone that turns down Champions League football for a relegation battle due to a couple of extra zeroes per month is a mercenary, plain as day.
Nigel Quashie’s signing defies reason. Here’s a man that has been relegated four times already. Obviously he occupies the strange hinterland between too-good for the Championship and not-good-enough for the Premiership, like no other before him. How this man was thought of as a better option than Javier Mascherano?
I admired what Pardew did with West Ham last year. They attacked the Premiership with a vim and vigour that’s laid the groundwork for teams like Reading to flourish in England’s top league. It seems though, that their downfall will be equally as spectacular as their first season’s highs. The Championship is a tough place to acclimatise to as well, especially after the kind of monster fire sale that’s likely.
From England hopeful to Championship manager. Like a speccy lad’s dream, but a saggy manager’s nightmare.
