Proper report tomorrow, just in the door.
All too easy for a while, 1-0 up from a soft goal (Gera), passing crisply, quickly, strolling.
Leicester fired up for the second half, we defended far too deep so did most of our defending inside the penalty box, which is ridiculous. Leicester scored twice.
Our passing went long, our movement stopped, everyone (especially Sir Jimmy) started to force things, bad passes everywhere, lost initiative completely.
Nevland came on and had a good goal disallowed, presumably for offside. Bullard continued to have a nightmare. Then – and this is just typical isn’t it? – he got the ball 35 yards out, faked to shoot, cut inside, played a one-two, and rifled a shot into the bottom corner from the edge of the D.
From the same place Murphy scored another as time ran out.
Phew.
Quick ratings: Schwarzer good, Stoor v good to begin with, faded, Hangeland and Hughes alright, Kallio alright, midfield completely lost it in the second half, I liked what Gera was trying to do, Davies couldn’t get involved, Murphy and Bullard again lost control of the game, Zamora willing and capable, Seol was really not there tonight, sub Nevland did well.
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Bit more:
Listening to Elliott Smith conjures up a 5am feeling. His music evokes the sun coming up on a deserted city, when haven’t been to bed yet, you’re knackered but happy and maybe sad too, and everything’s somehow moving slowly and gently but it’s all good and soon you’ll have a nice long sleep and wake up halfway through the day and for a long time you’ll remember that pre-dawn feeling, not fondly, particularly, but just as something to think back on.
Which is how these strange league cup games seem to me. A ground not even half full, people sitting in seats with spaces all around them, the late summer sky day gradually giving way to night, the match is important but not important, and it’s all a bit otherworldly. Last night we had top seats in the Riverside, padded seats at that, and had a nice leisurely evening taking in what was, on balance, a pretty entertaining game.
Fulham passed around gently in the first half. Leicester showed some strength, particularly down the left flank where a nippy winger gave debutant Stoor plenty to think about. Stoor handled all this quite well, but we weren’t penetrating at the other end and it looked like a fairly empty game lay ahead. Then Zoltan Gera scored, a strange goal that even now I can’t conjure up in my mind. There seemed to be something faintly fortunate about it, but I can’t recall exactly how. This done, the impression that we were having an evening stroll was confirmed, and the half wound down with little of interest to declare.
Leicester put the cat amongst the pigeons in the second half, twice attacking deep into the Fulham box, twice scoring goals. Somehow the team needs to stop this happening. There’s no pace in the back four, but a higher line was a must. How we got so pegged back is a mystery, but again, narrowed eyes will be scrutinising our four midfielders, who all contribute to the team, but lack any sort of defensive presence. When they hunt in packs and pressure high up the pitch they can do the job, but last night they got stretched all over the place and even League One Leicester were able to boss the midfield for stretches.
It didn’t help that our supposedly gifted midfield passed like a non league side in the second half. Gera had a fair game, but Simon Davies could not get involved, Murphy had one of those strange matches where he’s everywhere but nowhere, and Bullard seemed to have decided to be David Beckham circa 2002, running wherever he wanted, playing ridiculous (and inaccurate) passes that undermined the team’s quick and short passing ethos, and ginving the ball back to Leicester time and again. You can’t attack without the ball, and if you can’t defend very well without the ball you need to keep the thing as long as you can. Bullard was having a nightmare.
Which presents Roy Hodgson with a huge dilemman, as for all his flaws, Bullard – like Beckham – is a player with a sense of occasion, and he scored when we needed something to happen. His goal was beautifully taken, a nice one two on the edge of the box and a screaming finish into the bottom corner. When Murphy added another on 90 minutes we cheered in bemused excitement, the win having been well and truly stolen from an unfortunate and lively Leicester side. Cracks papered over for now.
