| Middlesbrough | Brentford | ||
| Fletcher | 6′ | Shotton Benrahma |
70′ (O.G.) 73′ |
| Possession Shots On target Corners Fouls |
37% 19 6 3 14 |
Possession Shots On target Corners Fouls |
63% 14 3 3 10 |
Bees sting substandard Boro
In-form Brentford arrived at the Riverside hoping to improve on their dire away form if that made sense. Bizarrely despite only having won once on the road all season the Bees were sitting fourth over the last ten Championship games in the form table thanks to their Griffin Park form. Over ten away games Thomas Frank’s side sat 19th in the form stakes before Kick Off while Boro sat in 17th for Home form, hardly inspiring stats for either Manager.
TP had a healthy squad at his disposal with George Friend returning and Aden Flint only a little further behind. Brentford likewise had an almost full house with most of their injuries clearing up over the last few weeks. Mokotjo, Marcondes, MacLeod were all back in contention while defender Rico Henry was nearing his return.
Boro had been unbeaten in 12 matches against Brentford in all competitions since an FA Cup defeat back in January 1964. Brentford were winless in seven trips to Teesside with their last win up here coming in 1938. TP went with the same again in terms of selection. Brentford ended up a man short after an injury to Jeanvier during the warm up restricted them to only six subs. Watching the teams run out took me back to the days of Ernie Hunt and Coventry City as the Bees were adorned in a chocolate brown ensemble topped off with an amber yoke.
Boro started lively and on 30 seconds Jonny Howson nearly repeated his feat of QPR when he launched a cross which lofted in dangerously just clearing the far corner of Bentley’s goal. Five minutes in however and Boro were lucky not to be behind as a ball launched over Shotton saw him struggle and Maupay nipped in wrong siding him but sent his effort wide of Randolph’s upright in what should have been the afternoon’s opener. Just two minutes after Maupay’s miss Ashley Fletcher reacted quickest to a fumble by Bentley pushing out Besic’s shot straight to him to put us one up in what was a well worked move involving Besic and Howson. It was Fletcher’s best moment in the game as he then went on to struggle in 50/50 challenges on several occasions later in the match.
The next talking point was Britt in a tussle in the Brentford box when he was bundled over claiming a penalty but being fair it looked to me like Britt wasn’t strong or fast enough. Maupay again was in the thick of things on twenty minutes as he deftly headed a flick past Randolph but the flag was up for offside as Boro were carved open with ease. A warning if ever there was one for TP but one seemingly ignored. A few minutes after that and the slick inter passing play from Brentford carved us open again but for a drag back tackle timed to perfection from Mikel to keep that slender lead intact.
As pleasing on the eye as the Bees undeniably were they were sloppy and very poor at the back and with Howson, Wing, Saville, Britt and Fletcher chasing and harrying them they gave away possession cheaply on numerous occasions and in dangerous places yet we couldn’t trouble Bentley. Ayala came close (ish) with a header but missed the target and then a bizarre cross come shot from Lewis Wing (who had a poor day by his standards) saw whatever it was he was attempting end up in the upper echelons of the South West corner.
This was a game that was full of action at both ends but in truth Boro didn’t look comfortable hanging onto their lead as Brentford outpaced and outplayed them with fast, quick, pacy football and players running off the ball looking to receive and then releasing it again quickly. The foul count for Boro was rising along with their yellow cards as challenges were coming in after the intended Brentford player had released the ball. The Ref Jeremy Simpson was coming in for some stick from the home fans but the truth was we couldn’t keep up with the standard of Brentford’s attractive fast flowing football.
Britt was the first of a few in red to be booked for a late challenge on Mokotjo, then those of us in the North Stand were grateful for the Linesman’s flag ruling out a Canos “goal” when Saville was dithering with a clearance attempt but Maupay sent him sprawling. That’s twice the Bees had the ball in the Boro net and had the score been two all at this stage nobody could have complained or been surprised. More warning signs if any were needed (or better still heeded), the “goal” definitely shouldn’t have been given as Saville was literally just shoved to the floor but we have seen them given.
With that last alarm still ringing in our ears it was Canos again who struck a beautiful shot that cannoned off and over Randolph’s crossbar with the Irishman well and truly beaten. This game was far from over and Boro were looking far from comfortable despite Bentley and his back line determined to give the ball away repeatedly in dangerous areas. The first half was broken up by a continual theme of visitors rolling about on the floor like scenes from Saving Private Ryan which was irking the Home support as Ref Simpson got a chorus of “you’re not fit to Referee”.
Just before the half time whistle Boro’s second best chance of the half fell to George Saville who drove forward and when it looked like he was going to double the advantage he inexcusably launched it higher than a Kim Jong-un missile and with just about the same level of accuracy. The half time whistle went to a cacophony of boos for the Referee who had seemingly pandered to the theatrics of Brentford players repeatedly poleaxed and fighting on life support one minute and then sprinting like northern whippets with leeks up their jacksies the next.
Brentford had played some really impressive and I have to admit enjoyable football. Their greatest threat was that they were like a team of Mo Besic’s, short in stature but full of running, tricks, flicks and dribbles and intuitive understanding of the next phase of play expected from their colleague covered in Chocolate for want of a better euphemism. Their biggest problem however was that they were like a team of Mo Besic’s, short in stature but full of running, tricks, flicks and dribbles but also liable to lose possession in dangerous places and put themselves under unnecessary pressure repeatedly not seemingly learning from their mistakes. Still if you are going to watch middle of the table Championship football week in week out then I know whose football I would prefer to watch.
Both sides returned to the fray for the second forty five with the same starting eleven but it was Brentford who started by far the livelier and putting Boro on the back foot. Their incessant, patient, clever, direct probing was causing even more problems but it was a ball into the Brentford box that saw a cluster of bodies challenge for a loose ball during which a posse of Red shirts managed to put the ball into the arms of Bentley who by now was laid prostrate in his own six yard box. It was certainly harder than scoring and the Bees keeper probably couldn’t believe his luck if it wasn’t for the fact that the fall had winded him. More jeers and boos followed as a Pantomime now ensued with the Brentford Physio coming on and off the pitch to treat the severely injured Bentley who was restricted to the use of one arm.
OK, press pause, that’s right a one armed goal keeper who was severely restricted in not only his catching but each kick brought a pained expression. Surely now Boro would pepper him with shots and crosses to deal with? Well no, we were still struggling to keep the effervescent Brentford midfield and attack at bay with little to no outlet. Against the run of play we did manage to get the ball up field where Fletcher should have added to his earlier goal but with the net at his mercy and a one armed Keeper he glanced the ball across the goalmouth with Britt escorting it wide instead of sliding in to make certain. As bad a day as Britt was having the chasing and closing down by him and Fletcher were our best bets indeed our only weapons all afternoon.
Minutes previously Canos again had a brilliant effort that had Randolph producing his weekly wonder save to deny Brentford who by now could genuinely consider themselves hard done to at this stage. I’m not sure whether it was the Canos shot or the Fletcher miss but TP decided that he needed to change things. Clearly we were under the cosh and needed a spark, something to create and give us an outlet so TP warms George Friend up? Yep that correct, he warms a Left Back up! He then actually brought Friend on when we desperately needed Tav to give us additional pace and of course a threat to take the pressure off our crumbling midfield and defence. Now the logic was that Friend would go Left Wing Back and probably push Saville up and bring off either Wing or Besic who hadn’t been creating as much as they should but no TP brought off Britt Assombalonga to a chorus of more boos and jeers.
So hanging on with no outlet or respite and when we desperately needed the artillery TP decided to bring on the Peace Corps at the expense of 50% of what little outlet that we had possessed up until that point. Going to a back four and one up top was traditional Tony or Pulistoric depending on your viewpoint but judging by the volume of alternative suggestions it was apparently the latter. A cynical burst of Britt’s signature theme tune met poor George taking the field of play in what was probably the first time that the Riverside faithful had really vented serious misgivings at TP since his arrival. Still a goal up, keep a clean sheet and move on to Preston so what could possibly go wrong? Britt didn’t look at all happy leaving but the background singalong (which was the loudest the Riverside had been all afternoon up until that point) at least let him know that several thousand had appreciated his efforts a lot more than someone in the Technical area.
Boro did get a free kick near the goal line on the edge of the 18 yard box after Friend was up ended but the set piece was fairly unimaginative with a big high ball launched at Ayala who duly headed well wide. Brentford then returned to default and pummelled our still creaking defence and after a poor Saville attempt at a clearance a soft ball from Dalsgaard was delivered at grass height only for Shotton to slice it into his own net. 1-1 and the Riverside stunned with a few murmurs of “Typical Boro” permeated with a slightly irreverent view of the previous substitution which had put us even deeper in trouble. Having big lads is great but when the opponents play to feet and do it with speed and accuracy it negated all the height advantage and in fact turned it into a distinct disadvantage as those same big lads had the turning circle of an Oil Tanker.
Just when we thought things couldn’t get any worse and we were clearing our heads the Bees went and scored a second with Said Benrahma. “Do do do, Britt Assombalonga, do do do, Britt Assombalonga, do do do, Britt Assombalonga,” now reverberated around the Riverside in what was now most definitely the loudest chant of the day. Realising that the stuff the same shade as the visitors shirts was now well and truly splattered in his technical area TP decided to undo what he had just done by putting Hugill on for Besic and two up top and wing backs again.
Two minutes later the underemployed Bentley in the Brentford goal couldn’t take any more and slowly left the pitch with the Brentford Physio in close attendance. An 18 year old understudy took his place to make his first team debut which probably explained why he had soldiered on for so long. Oh well if we couldn’t manage a shot against a Keeper now off to fill in his universal credit forms for industrial injuries surely we can take advantage of the raw rookie Gunnarsson in goal and maybe rescue something having reinstated 50% of the strike force that we had just minutes earlier totally abandoned. Upon arriving a Hugill header from far out was tipped over the bar by the youngster and a cross from Shotton was placed perfectly into his arms. That was it, seriously that was all we mustered apart from another two penalty claims, one for a yellow carded Howson dive and one for Ayala grappled to the floor in the last second.
Just before and with three whole minutes of the ninety remaining Tavernier was introduced to add that pace and urgency that we had been missing all afternoon. What on earth he was supposed to achieve with the game all but over who knows but the lad did try valiantly and he did have a few link ups with both Wing and Friend but his arrival from the bench was so late it was farcical. The fourth official had held up seven minutes which was a fair reflection of the amount of time wasted by Brentford and all the substitutions but it mattered not. Brentford had beaten Boro on Teesside for the first time since before the Second World War and deservedly so.
There wasn’t a MOM for Boro because that would imply that someone played well when in fact so many were well below par. It was a collective nightmare made worse by a ridiculous and negative tactical managerial decision in a crucial part of the game which handed the initiative to the visitors when they clearly already had it.