| Middlesbrough | Reading | ||
| Wing Assombalonga |
31′ 39′ (pen) |
Loader | 11′ |
| Possession Shots On target Corners Fouls |
38% 18 6 7 14 |
Possession Shots On target Corners Fouls |
62% 12 4 4 12 |
Wing and a prayer
Jose Gomes had his first game his season without serious relegation pressure as only a mathematical miracle could send his team down. The Royals pulled clear of the relegation zone after a run of only three defeats in their last sixteen games largely down to no longer conceding goals in the dying minutes. One point would be enough to guarantee safety but as it stood they were already six points ahead of Rotherham in the remaining relegation slot with a plus thirteen better goal difference. That Rotherham had only scored 50 goals in 44 games this entire season and therefore needed to score something like 25% of their entire goal haul in two remaining games was never going to happen and of course besides they have to face the mighty Boro in their last game.
TP had the usual casualty list perhaps with SG’s injured pride to add to that after fellow Championship competitors blew his “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine” accounts strategy out of the water midweek to make it two humiliating defeats in 48 hours in Nottingham. Then yesterday we heard that they had managed allegedly to “knack” Stewy in training to add to Dael Fry from the previous week.
The big shock was the inclusion of Lewis Wing coming in for Clayts who we thought would be finished for the season after his hernia operation. Other than that, the only other change was Spence making way from the bench for Clayts. The sides took to the Riverside pitch under dark grey overcast skies with the Spirit of Steaua banner being optimistically passed over the heads of the South Stand. If only we had seen some “Spirt” in evidence at the Riverside at any time this season since August.
Boro kicked off and got at Reading straight away down the right side with Wingy earning a corner and having a shot and all before 47 seconds had ticked over linking up well with Howson. If this was a sign of intent then it was refreshing to see a Boro side finally looking like they wanted to actually win a game. Reading however had objectives of their own, quickly settled and started passing the ball around stretching Boro and exposing our weakness of playing a fish out of water at left back yet again. Being fair on Saville he gives 100% but at best he is a 6/10 performer with the odd 7 every now and then but as a wing back a 2/10 would be a compliment, not his fault I hasten to add as its the chalice that’s been handed to him.
McCleary was looking lively and starting to stretch a Boro backline that looked edgy and before long it was clear that Jose Gomes and his charges knew that their opponents’ collective defensive vulnerabilities was a given. Boro however were very busy themselves at the other end and Wingy managed to hit the inside of the post and a cross from Fletcher was just marginally too high for Britt to meet. The inevitable then happened as a poorly defended ball from a Gunter throw in worked in from our right side seen youngster Danny Loader drift past Mikel who had struggled to pull any strings thus far and was beaten all too easily for a deftly lofted ball to curl into the top corner of Randolph’s net in a very soft and soul-destroying manner.
0-1 and like the inflatable dinosaur that had previously provided lofty entertainment (and irony) floating above the Riverside environs had been well and truly burst. The Stadium atmosphere had been low key and quiet up until that point and the away fans now had something to sing about with a chorus or two of “we’re staying up”. The industrial heritage of Teesside was evident in thoughts and opinions which were muffled in fairness but certainly scathing and eye watering in terminology. The fear was that this would be the key that unlocked months of pent up anti dinosaur frustration
and anger but the fans kept their powder dry but the atmosphere was now just as dark as those foreboding grey skies.
Reading were now enjoying momentary relief from pressure knowing that a draw let alone a victory would see them definitely safe from the drop. Boro on the other hand looked jittery nervous and a comedy of errors then ensued. Saville couldn’t hang onto the ball, Shotton was all over and Flint looked a liability and as we desperately needed to get back into the game Besic started his circular pirouettes and landed us in trouble. He looked every inch a luxury we can’t and wouldn’t want to afford.
At this point the atmosphere was now starting to turn toxic and what had been previously muffled was now being individually vented in full fury at was truly shambolic defending. A makeshift defence is one thing but what was witnessed was below schoolboy level. Mikel was weak in midfield, Besic was in a delusional world of his own, Saville was struggling, Flint was impersonating a carthorse and Shotton was running around trying to hold it all together but in reality, in doing so losing what little organisation and structure we had.
Then came a moment that simply beggared belief. Barely surviving a calamitous period and now trying to get an equaliser to keep our slim hopes for the season alive the ball broke to Besic. Desperate to launch another attack and screaming at him (not for the first time this afternoon) to propel it back into the box he turns and knocks the ball out of play. Vitriol was now at bubbling point. A Reading player was down but not unconscious or fitting or even blood pouring from him. Besic seemed to be totally oblivious to both the importance and the meaning of this match. It was made a lot worse as the Reading player who must have looked like he needed life support got himself up, dusted himself down and got on with it. So embarrassed were Reading when they took the resultant throw in instead of hitting it back to Randolph as would be the norm they sheepishly just knocked it ten yards back to Boro in the middle of the pitch.
Having dicky danced his way through the half to date the Bosnian international was lucky that the only pelters he received were verbal ones because there were a few blokes near me that apoplectic doesn’t even remotely describe their mental state. What the game had shown thus far was that there is very clearly a mental issue with this side in terms of where their heads are at and reality of the task in hand. Something is evidently dysfunctional compounded by a lack of leadership on the pitch. I couldn’t have pictured a player knocking the ball out like that with a Grant Leadbitter or a Nigel Pearson out there.
Boro’s sole outlets were Wing and Howson who were both a class or even two classes above the rest, Randolph excepted. Besic made some amends when he found Fletcher who in turn played in Britt but when it looked like we were back in it his effort had hit the post. Wing then tried his luck next but his effort went both a yard wide and just over the Reading goal. Finally after a great piece of play involving Jonny Howson (who is looking like a serious long term solution to the right wing back role) his cross evaded Fletcher but was headed out by a defender to Wingy on the penalty spot who wrapped his boot behind it and made darn sure that that ball was only going in one place and it was 1-1. In fairness what perhaps wasn’t appreciated and won’t be reported elsewhere is that Saville was up and pressuring that Reading defender in the box who couldn’t leave it and was desperately forced into the poor header.
Just over thirty minutes gone and things were level again. Boro now regrouped, cleared their stuttering heads but it was still Howson and Wing that were the only creative forces behind everything that we mustered. Our left side was sterile, totally bereft of any threat. Saville was getting caught and with a lack of pace struggled to build anything from defence whatsoever, the thoughts in the North Stand were that Stewy’s training “injury” was just more of Pulis’s spin to defect from his decision to go yet again with what had failed each and every time it was utilised.
In stark and blatantly obvious contrast Howson and Wing continued to test the Reading defence on the right side (fanciful thoughts of a Downing and Tav combo on the left entered my thoughts). Wing then had another yet another effort pushed over for a corner. With five minutes of the first half remaining Besic played a great ball to Howson and as he played it into Saville (again getting up into the Reading box) Yiadom brought him down but the ball simultaneously broke to Britt who rifled his shot into the gaping goal to make it 2-1 except eccentric Referee John Brooks (who seemed to be on a neighbouring orbit to Besic) blew for a penalty. From cheers and jubilation to abject disbelief at the whistle along with more Anglo-Saxon nouns. Britt stepped up and as the inevitable “Typical Boro” thoughts were to the forefront of everyone’s minds he calmly sent Martinez the wrong way smashing it into the net once again finally making it 2-1.
Despite going behind early, Besic having an aberration along with Flint, Shotton and Saville ensuring there were more than just smokers queueing for the cubicles at half time somehow (thanks mainly to Howson, Wingy and Britt) we were back in front against a side that were still looking over their shoulders. Just before the half time whistle had gone Shotton had a scrambled attempt that rippled the side netting as we almost dared to dream that we could enter the break with the rarity of a two-goal cushion.
The second half started much the same way as the first with this time Besic putting in an early cross that Fletcher deftly nodded goal wards with Martinez committed to a dive to his left but by sheer fluke his trailing legs managed to comically keep Ashley’s effort out. That was a great and positive restart as surely the need for goals as well as a win was paramount in Pulis’s and the Players’ minds especially with the half time news that Derby were winning away at Bristol.
What ensued next was just a repeat of the Stoke and Hull second halves except even more negative. Sitting back, absorbing pressure, desperately clearing lines, hoofing up field where Britt was out muscled and Fletcher managing to give lightweight a new Collins Dictionary definition. Powder puff and half-hearted our two attackers were getting no backing from the Ref even when Britt had his shirt almost ripped off him, held back, dragged back on the half way line he blew for a foul in favour of Reading.
That was it I’m afraid, nothing else worthy to report or comment on in the half other than digging deep and hanging on for grim death or dear life. An entire second half of desperate, defensive dross interspersed by three substitutions from either side. TP brought Clayts on for Besic and Tav on for Fletcher who it has to be said looked equally light weight and just as disappointingly ineffective. Hugill then came on for Britt and at least dished out a bit of what Britt had been receiving in vain and took a yellow for his troubles. Like the last few home games it was the Alamo revisited again as nerves were shredded, enduring what was hopefully the last of the Pulis era at the Riverside.
It ended with a 2-1 victory that was far from convincing and anything but enjoyable but that last emotion had long since been aborted since August. MOM was a joint one between Howson and Wing, Wingy grabbed his goal but Howson was Mr Duracell all game and it’s impossible to split the decision. Incredibly the tantalising chance of a play off spot still remains up until the very final game of the season but most of us know that should have been the absolute minimum. Now we find ourselves rueing the lack of goals and goal difference that TP had been at great odds to highlight in his programme notes. Unfortunately, those stats don’t highlight taking Britt off for Friend at home to Brentford or the abject negativity against the likes of Villa, Forest and Swansea nor the shameful capitulations to Newport and Burton. No team spirit, no belief, no determination, no confidence, no positivity and negative demoralising leadership has led us to where we now find ourselves.
Our hopes now despondingly rest on FLDCFC taking the field at Swansea full of fear and trepidation Pulis style.