Mullet added 19:17 - Dec 26
Town remained unchanged on another post-Christmas jaunt away from home. Down to the big smoke for another top of the table clash at new boys Brentford. The game started as briskly as the weather as a big blue swarm made themselves at home in the terraces while the Bees kicked off. Some neat football saw Town stalk the hosts back towards their own goal, a Bishop header hooked out to Anderson, a swift cross and Murphy hit one on the switch to send us all abuzz! The quickest goal of the season and Town's opening combination had the home side on the ropes with all of three simple touches.
Festive cheer abound, the fans already on their feet showed appreciation through song. The next portion of the game a rather more interesting episode than the serial slanders and slurs Town endure from opposition of late. McCarthy's unfairly assumed conservatism stood fast in the face of Brentford's labours. Our economy on the ball proved far more telling, as the midfield three from the hosts failed to supply Gray and Town countered time and again.
It was interesting to see that as Brentford are the latest second tier poster boys, their middle changed shape more often than Kate Moss' nose, but their defenders shackled themselves to McG throughout. The centrepoint of Town's attack found himself crowded out more often than not on a small pitch. However great support as ever from the wings through Ando and Tabb allowed Murphy to grab all the limelight.
Town's second followed initial pressure on the temporarily top-spot team Parr cleared away when Town were back defending. Beating Brentford at their own game, the defence's cleared ball dropped right down the middle to Murphy. His marker left him all weak, dancing through, the Irishman undid Button with a jink to the left, a touch to the right before sticking it right down the middle for two. Jackanory!
With a lead doubled and a brace for the league's deadliest marksman Brentford had only mustered a chance of their own barely minutes before. A cheeky dink allowed Gray to muster a header from close range. Bristling low to his right Town's Polish stopper gloved the ball away. Subsequently he had only had to beat away a loose ball with his chest in half an hour where possession left the hosts without a handle on the game. Town were soon to be demonstrably ruthless yet again. Forcing the first booking of the game as Bishop was felled from a great run, showing those quick to play critic that attacking versatility comes in more than one form.
With McG still shackled for large parts it was left to him to play passes and flicks away and into space, this was made possible by the only side to have full backs just as rampaging as our own in the league. With the defence breached twice already it was left to an interchange cross field to bring a third. Another combination from back to front saw Town steam through the hosts and deliver another body blow. Tabb driving from the left, allowed Anderson to stab home a steely studded effort for a third. Dreamland and while still firmly in this division which has been so hard to leave for so long, the celebrations might have had some of us checking out returns to West London next season to see the rich neighbours down the road.
The natives weren't so much restless as repulsed by the manner in which Town dismantled their unbeaten run at home with half time still sometime away. Soon we might weep salt tears for there will be no more sharp words to conquer as the rest of the country catches up to the simple truth that is McCarthyism at Town.
Two near chances for the striped striker Gray were snuffed out as his deflected effort feel to a completely surrounded Douglas, it was clear Town would outgun anyone thinking of shooting where possible. Half time and celebratory noises mingled with disbelief and designs on staying at the summit. In a half where there was much to critique, Town had been hotter than a balti pie exactly when it mattered and that was much more satisfying.
Another second half, another lead to defend it seemed that like Boro, Brentford would have to come at Town with everything they had. If they did it wasn't a lot. Neither side looked like the top three title chasers we both evidently are. Fluidity for all its flattery to the purists sensibilities once again failed to erode the rock-hard resolute Town defence as we remained diamond-like and happy to cut our own path into the game.
It took an hour or so for real chances to tell and with former Town target Judge hammering one at goal, his old mate Bart was happy to deny him. Unlike our little #18 the home side's looked unlikely to scale any great heights in a game where Jota once again stood out. Having resisted the urge to kick him as he walked past me into the ground, Berra took no such indulgence either as he sent the ball away from goal and the playmaker with prowess to deny a decent opportunity.
Anderson was one again impressive in an understated manner and last week's Gazza was followed up by this week's Counago as use of the backheel embarrassed his opposite number in one memorable move. However on roughly an hour he was removed from his footing and soon removed from his game, hobbling past the boy Hunt as the first Noel appearance of the afternoon brought applause.
Murphy had a chance to dine out on his predatroy success on 69 with an easy move towards the box. Fluff proved his undoing as all the hard work was done and the shot horribly off target. Again the hat trick eludes, but for the Gaelic Ronaldo, belief and confidence exudes. On he ran and rammed, right until full time.
A double sub saw midfield heroes Bishop and Tabb replaced for the more physical and visceral in Bru and the second Hunt Stephen. Brentford made their third sub when Judge was withdrawn for Saunders, a change which would be telling. A jammy finish was unbecoming from the home side who had played so much good football, but Saunders' deflected drive saw them back in it for now.
From the restart Town put the pressure back on, snaking forward and crushing any feint hopes of a fight back with pressure on the hosts flanks. From the resultant corner Smith bulleted a header to the near post as we've seen him do so often. The man defending it had no idea about the save he made. Finding its way back to McG in the middle the scrambling defenders forced the ball back towards Smith. Forgetting himself and his position he switched from dominant foot to right side, looked up and blasted the ball in the top corner, despite attempts at interference from Berra's shadow. Town were 4-1 up and the terraces were in swaying like all good men should on a Boxing day.
Another goal was glimpsed briefly as Irish eyes were smiling while their feet were left slicing. Murphy cut the size 5 back to Stephen Hunt on the near post who snatched at it like he'd got a sniff of the last mince pie. Beyond him, the waiting queue of McG and his brother looked disappointed as he sent it tumbling across the floor and out miles wide.
There was time for another goal however at the wrong end. Town's relatively professional display besmirched by a soft a turn and shot on the edge of the area as the final whistle loomed. Again it was Saunders who applied the killer touch. Finding the roof of the net from close range, Bialkowski stood no chance in intercepting from betwixt the crowd. As Brentford celebrated in somewhat muted style the game finished with just enough time for a harsh booking for Noel Hunt. Sliding in on Button in a 50:50 in a manner the ref clearly saw as unseasonal.
With that the whistle, and the roar of going top engulfing it. Fisting followed and fans trickled out, full of good cheer and high spirits. Every game a new experience in now familiar fashion, long may it continue. For when the end of this run becomes a notable milestone in such a wonderful season, it doesn't have to look like a sign of Town changing trajectory or direction.
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