|Fleetwood Town 0 v 1 Ipswich Town|
SkyBet League One
Saturday, 5th October 2019 Kick-off 15:00
|PositivelyPortman added 18:56 - Oct 5|
However, Woolfy was my Town player today. Such maturity from one so young.
Mullet added 19:33 - Oct 5
In an era where formations as numbers are being replaced by an affected harking back to W’s and M’s, it’s hard to know if Lambert’s 3-4-1-2 was inspired by the home side’s 3-4-3, or merely alphabet soup for Joey Barton to nurse himself with later tonight.
It was a first half with little football and lots of incidents, deciding the game by increment. The man officiating it, helped build into the scene set by a narrow pitch, ill-fitting stands and low terraces that didn’t manage to line the pitch completely. Grey Northern climate and grey-haired majorities within the 1000 or so travelling, helped tick boxes of all the warning signs about what this league might be like.
Some songs started. Some died quicker than others. It was a war of attrition on and off the pitch to really set the tie alight. Holy collected many backpasses and the odd cross. It was clear the Cod army were looking to sink us under set pieces and dark artistry, as the corners and studs came in waves and from all angles.
They are side made of old Blades and scrap iron. Evans the main focal point in every sense and the once crippled Coutts patrolling the centre circle. Josh Morris and inverted attacking midfielder cutting in from the inside right and Paddy Madden the star substitute who rarely shone today. But it was the Welshman who garnered the most attention from fans and defenders alike.
Chambers' ability to judge a tackle today kept Ched detained. Three times the skipper cut out his attacking intentions on goal, the more audacious appeals became didn't matter, they fell on deaf ears. Abuse at every opportunity rained down from some behind the goal, especially when Evans went in on Skuse studs high, morals low, and blood up as the lack of card was at odds with the rest of the officiating.
Norwood earned the first of many bookings for Town. Somehow remaining peripheral despite being front and centre, the striker had little joy against Souttar. The starlet defender resembling a gigantic toddler with and without the ball. Coming deep he slid in behind needlessly on a midfielder and gave away a freekick.
From the second attempt their other big baby at the back Dunne missed his cue and fell over, before the ball was kicked and he was meant to pretend he had been also. Wilson told him and the ref how it was. We joined in.
Coutts soon studded Nolan in a wasted attack as Town looked to make a rare break forward. The man playing as a 10, often occupied an 8’s position. Dropping deep into the gap Skuse left as he looked to retrieve the ball. Town had a tactical pendulum in the cross-field movement on and off the ball. When KVY went forward Garbutt didn’t and vice versa. It was the two wingers who promised the most but failed to deliver.
The new boy didn’t look himself all half, but did manage two wonderful stepovers, before a final touch took it away from him in disappointing style. His other big moment saw him put a certain own goal the right side of Holy’s post, at the last minute and at speed.
Garbutt received two good chances. When Woolfenden picked him out cross field in a Danish style, the loanee sprang forward and cut in. The defence were haemorrhaging position and presence as he skittled his shot past a gaping goal mouth. The next time he would be in such a good position his cross would land too close to Norwood and in a rare touch toward goal, the striker punched his header towards the rafters rather than the roof of the net.
Town were no strangers to incurring the wrath of the ref, the home fans or the spirits of the game. Downes in a performance where neither midfield saw enough of the ball as it travelled between defences put Skuse in trouble. Where earlier the elder man had found the sideline with his slide, this time he was forced to fell his man for a deserved and obvious caution.
It was a poor half, a poor spectacle and a poor part of the country where warmth was all in the hospitality of the home fans and not the game plan of their side. Town emerged for the second half with young Kane absent. Edwards his successor. It posed a question or two.
Was the new man simply crocked? Had he shown too little and been hooked? Were Town moving to a flat back four with Woolfenden as a giant full back? We couldn’t really tell. At times Fleetwood pushed Gwion into being a fourth or fifth defender, as both he and Garbutt were targeted as points on the pitch to dam up any flowing football.
Jackson who had done much more with the little either striker had had, put through his partner with selfless grace. A much understated touch saw him cushion the ball beyond the last man from the air, and play Norwood in. With the near post approaching he slotted past the far one, when he really should have scored. He knew it, we knew it, the encouragement was a mask ill-fitting on his frustrated face.
Cairns would get away with less than Holy. Both flapped at crosses, but in the Czech’s defence was someone appealing for the clear foul that saw him punch away a now dead ball. When he failed to gather later low down and charged out of his six yard box, plenty of players were on hand to boot away what had spilled from his. Convincing? No. But a problem? Same story.
When Norwood finally won a foul, as high ball seemed almost impossible against the towering Souttar, it was cheap. A swinging careless arm and down the striker went. Garbutt waited for his chance. Cairns fiddled with his wall, but despite guessing right, could only palm the torpedo into Jackson. A dynamite touch put Town ahead from a tight angle.
You could smell the blue smoke before you could see it. A thousand of us were loving it. Victory, it was in the air.
Fleetwood continued to do everything to make sure Evans scored, and it perhaps hampered them. Ipswich had enough shape about them to form defensive wedges and use Holy’s kick like a trebuchet to break their own besiegement. Meanwhile the Blues found that with a bench full of midfielders, that would be where the selection problems and solutions would all come from.
Norwood went down, and this time there was no appeal for more than a rest. On came Rowe, who had played centrally at Lincoln. Off went our 10, and on came a second one to join Nolan. There was a Scottish whirl about our movement when we got hold of the ball, but little sense of blowing the hosts away.
Jackson went through the middle as all hell broke loose on the touchlines. Evans finally booked, was eclipsed by a woeful tackle by Edwards. A defender he was not. Flying in and flying into the hoardings went his man. It warranted a booking, but the ongoing melee meant the retribution on Edwards from the impressive Andrew, warranted a red. Instead after lengthy consultation amongst the men in black, yellows all round and more bafflement.
This was because Town had already been denied a clear penalty. Norwood had missed Jackson by putting the ball behind his run, and into the path of Nolan. With shin bone hanging like a trigger, it was swiped away from behind before the midfielder could shoot. When Jackson was then felled after Edwards’ caution at the far side of the box, again from behind you sensed Town’s lead would not be doubled.
Almost from the goal kick given, Town allowed a deep cross to sway back towards Evans. He was as adept at missing opportunities for success as our chairman. Stabbing a bouncer wide, when he should have scored.
Town’s third clear penalty of the game should have wrapped things up. Another good piece of play, another run through by MOTM Jackson. Pushed in the back by Dunne who finally earned the card he’d been trying to get all game, there was no option but to point to the spot.
A small discussion between previous goal scorer Jackson and supplier Garbutt ensued. The striker won, and his run was as staggered as we were when the ball pinged past the post. It was a chance to kill off the game and these early rivals for promotion. There’s something foreboding about the ease with which Town are marching to the top of the table, mess we are making from 12 yards unchallenged.
Jackson would eventually have to go off. Not through shame, but sheer exhaustion. He walked past the away end to rapturous applause, a man haunted by that miss and not the goal which had us in the lead. We were treated to Emyr Huws stacking the midfield and Danny Rowe playing as a lone striker, challenging Souttar in all seriousness but with comedic effect.
All this came about in the dying six minutes of injury time as Wilson had also left the field. His first booking a clear and precise movement to deny danger down our left flank early in the half, was compounded by a second take-out late on. The fans by the incident gave the decision, which forced the ref’s. Ipswich switched personnel around and contracted into side that retreated into their own half, in order to boot the ball as far into Fleetwood’s as they could.
We had joy, we had drums, we saw Ipswich win away, in a manner more befitting a relegation scrap. But once again Lambert and his side did the business. The captain did his fistpump, and we all cheered as they did that syrupy looking Morris dance thing at full time.
A gloomy game, and a gloomy day but we’ve put real daylight between us and the rest of the league already. It’s time to keep a spotlight on the competition and interrogate their credentials to catch us.
Stourbridgeblue added 20:51 - Oct 5
Robert_Garrett added 09:56 - Oct 6
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