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They Came As Lads we Barely Knew 07:20 - Aug 10 with 606 viewsKeno

I dont always find it easy to put how I feel into words but with Burns departing last week it did feel like the end of an era that has been oh so special. And so the following has emerged to try and sum up how I feel about 'those lads, that time and our team'

They came as lads we barely knew
To play for Town in white and blue
As all our hopes they did renew
Of heights to which we’d rise
From the depths that seemed extreme
Slowly they all became our team
But did we even dare to dream
Of heights to which we’d rise

The sight of Davis on the run
Cut back for Chappers oh what fun
Lets not forget the Wessie Bun
As to those heights we rise
So Morsy and McKennas men
Will we ever see their like again
Or just remember now and then
As to those heights we rise

So a new era now will start
Those lads as men must now depart
They will live on within our heart
As to higher heights we’ll rise
For they have made our future bright
New heroes now wear Blue and White
One aim to keep us in top flight
As to higher heights we’ll rise

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They Came As Lads we Barely Knew on 07:40 - Aug 10 with 464 viewsGuillermo_Edwards

Bless you, this is wonderful

What an era we've lived through, and onwards to another!
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They Came As Lads we Barely Knew on 09:20 - Aug 10 with 174 viewsCheltenham_Blue

Twenty-twenty, Portman Road,
football played in crisis mode.
League One.
Again.
Fleetwood Tuesday.
Rochdale rain.
Crewe away
and back again.

Marcus Evans barely stirred,
the badge said Town,
the league said third.
Paul Lambert talked and talked,
explaining “progress”
while the football walked.

Then Lambert went.
Paul Cook came in
with sleeves rolled up
and a demolition grin.
The squad went out,
the signings came,
new faces,
new shirts,
roughly the same game.
Cook promised revolution.
December arrived.
So did redundancy.

Then Kieran McKenna.
Young.
Polite.
No famous glare.
No managerial folklore there.
Just coaching.
Actual coaching.

Christ.
We’d forgotten
that was allowed.
Burns bombed on.
Chaplin scored.
Morsy kicked
what needed kicking.
Leif went left
at frightening speed
and suddenly Ipswich Town
looked like a football team.

Promotion.
Then the Championship.
“Consolidate,” they said.
Ipswich interpreted this
as “finish second.”

Leicester had millions.
Leeds had stars.
Ipswich had Wes Burns
charging around
like someone had stolen his car.
Huddersfield came.
Two-nil.
Premier League.

Twenty-two years
waiting for the promised land,
delivered by a bloke
who looked like he’d just
finished presenting
the quarterly figures.
Then came Liverpool.
City.
Arsenal.
Chelsea.
Every misplaced pass
became national telly.
We played brave.
We played well.
We also discovered
that bravery against Manchester City
has limited resale value.

Down we went.
McKenna stayed.
Back to the Championship
with expectation attached:
“You’ll walk it.”

Nobody walks the Championship.
It kicks you in the shins,
steals your wallet
and sends you to Stoke
on a Tuesday.

The start was awkward.
The internet reacted
with its customary calm perspective.
Then Town got moving.
Again.
Promotion.
Again.
Three promotions in four seasons.

League One.
Championship.
Premier League.
Championship.
Premier League.

Ipswich Town:
the footballing equivalent
of a man repeatedly pressing
the lift buttons.

Then McKenna left.
Five extraordinary years,
legend secured,
Suffolk slightly bereaved.

Enter Gary O’Neil.
New manager.
New clipboard.
Same basic assignment:
keep Ipswich Town
in the richest league on Earth
while half the opposition
can afford to buy Suffolk.

And that’s the last six years.
Lambert talking.
Cook rebuilding.
McKenna transforming.
O’Neil inheriting.
From Accrington away
to Premier League Saturday.
From “perhaps the play-offs”
to “who are we signing next?”

And after all the owners,
managers, money
and xG,
one eternal truth remains:

Ipswich Town
will beat somebody brilliant,
then lose the following week
to a side who haven’t won
since February.
Because managers change.
Divisions change.
Expectations change.

But Ipswich Town
will always find
a completely original way
to ruin
or considerably improve
your weekend.

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