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Sunday Prayers

Eton Blue at the Chelsea Megastore

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Another goalless performance, in more ways than one, and once again it is cold light of day time. Is there anybody out there who still thinks we are in anything other than a transitional period and, let‘s be honest about this, have been so since the middle of November? Nope, thought not. Oh, hang on a minute, just you three at the back… the bald headed guy and that other confused-looking couple with the ’taches who’s arms you’ve just raised. Well, that’s not many, is it? No surprise then, to the vast majority and rational amongst us, that the crowd have started to chant ’You don’t know what you’re doing’, despite being told in very uncertain terms by someone in authority that the criticism is ’a tad unfair’…ah, I wondered where I’d seen you three before… but I digress.

Personally, I’d have altered the chant somewhat, if only I could make it scan properly, to something along the lines of ’You do not appear to know what you are supposed to be doing’ rather than going the whole hog on the blame front in such an all encompassing fashion. The distinction here is important and might even be best emphasised in a plea from the heart like ’PLEEEASE give us a sign that you DO know what you are doing’ - a tad pedantic, but much more precise than the usual boring old rant to vent feelings of discontentment. Not that the taller guy with the ‘tache knew what was being said anyway [apparently], nor was the bald headed guy ever ‘going to tell him’ for fear, presumably, of bringing him out of his tactical stupor and into the realms of reality.

Perhaps I’m being what some bald headed guys might describe as ‘a tad unfair’ with my appraisal, nevertheless I’m going to soldier on, as three men in a dugout so often appear to want to do, oblivious of a contra viewpoint. At least I have the factual evidence of myriad ineffectual substitutions to back up my case and, if those responsible aren’t too careful, ignoring that particular home(and away) truth might mean that they have to pack up their cases before too long. Indeed, if it were not for the sorry fact that caretaker options in absentia include Alan Curbishley and Kevin Keegan, there would, as of now, be many fans killing themselves in the rush to help with packing.

Lest we forget the placatory camp in all this, it is necessary to consider the possibility that Roman is in agreement with the constant treading of water that’s going on at the moment, although the thought that he can he possibly be enjoying the sight of doggy paddlers like Rafa and Martin O’Neill overhauling our own coach beggars belief. Having said that, the Scousers performances have been beggaring my belief so much all season that I’m beginning to believe that there is a divine force, like refereeing, wanting them to win the title race, or at the very least make it competitive. If it wasn’t for the fact that they are chasing God in all his Old Trafford glory, I’d even go so far as to predict the success of a close run thing for them and their salt of the earth fans. They deserve no more and at the end of the day will probably have to put up with revelling in the angst that is bound to follow a Media-hyped, history-making, grand, but ultimately inglorious, second placed finale.

Would that it was so easy to predict our Premiership future and to even attempt to do so leads us back to the supposition surrounding Roman acquiescence on current developments. Any immediate action on his part will be construed by the Media as knee jerk and if he does nothing it will be taken as evidence of his ever growing lack of interest in the club’s affairs. As with our recent results, it’s a no win situation for him while his management team show no signs of being able to provide the wriggle room needed to reach the season’s end with a degree of respectability top four-wise. The leap of faith with the fans that would have come about by pushing the likes of Di Santo, Stoch and Mancienne into starting roles has not been made and, as faith plays a big part in our manager’s life, he might like to ponder on the possibility that there’s could be the kingdom and, with their promotion, might come the power and the glory. Maybe not for ever and ever, but a season or two would be nice and I’m sure we’d all say amen to that.

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