SO my beloved Gas move into 2011 in the League One relegation zone while the likes of mighty Hartlepool and Exeter go charging up the table towards a play-off spot.
Many didn't see this coming when we started off the season full of hope and with the enthusiastic words of our former manager Paul Trollope and chairman Nick Higgs ringing in our ears.
To be fair, because of the nordic conditions we've suffered over the last few weeks we haven't really had the chance to improve our situation since Trolls departed and the cry went out for a new manager.
At the time we were told we would have to sit tight and wait for a new boss, while caretaker Darren Patterson guided us through the tricky Xmas fixture period.
Well, we haven't played one game since then, a situation which must be particularly frustrating for those of our players who WANT to play rather than spend an enforced long break with their feet up watching the telly.
But it leaves me thinking that this break in the action must have given the directors a chance to get their heads together, sift through the applications and interview suitable candidates.
It also means that we still have a substantial portion of our season still to go, plenty of time for a new man at the helm to get his feet under the table, consider the opportunities presented by the January transfer window, assess the current staff and set about planning our charge up the table.
After all, as far as I was aware this wasn't a trial period for Mr Patterson to prove his credentials for the post but just a spell for him to babysit the team until the right man was chosen.
So when WILL we see a new manager?
With tomorrow's resumption of hostilities at an in-form MK Dons, followed by a tough three pointer at home to our west country neighbours Plymouth, the decision can't come soon enough.
Sorry, Patto, and all that but we need someone in as soon as possible, and if you don't get the chance to forge your imprint on the team then that's just tough.
Let's face it, too. It wasn't all of Trolls making that we are in the position we currently find ourselves. And, if it was, what was Patto, our assistant boss, doing during the period we were losing 6-1 at Oxford, 4-0 at home to Southampton and 6-2 at Sheffield Wednesday. Cleaning the boots? Making the tea?
Our demise has been a collective responsibility and cannot JUST be put down to the manager.
So, however much Mr Patterson wishes to distance himself from the situation we find ourselves in, it just isn't possible.
He can talk all he wants of preaching a "more attacking style" - something which is bound to go down well with the fans - but surely when we've been conceding so often and have a goal difference sadly resembling an Australian cricket team's Fall of Wickets, it is at the back that we really need to concentrate.
I'm all for us charging up the field, all guns blazing, to try to outscore the opposition but it doesn't work that way.
We need an organiser, a fresh face and a new voice, to come in, look at what has gone wrong and create a team spirit and ethic to pull us through the tough times.
Seeing the same old face on the training ground - albeit with a more prominent role - isn't necessarily going to work the miracle that all Gas fans want to see in 2011.
Still, a new year starts tomorrow, and a new era for Bristol Rovers.
Let's hope it isn't just an extension to the annus horriblis that was 2010.
Friday 31 December 2010
Thursday 16 December 2010
End of an era
SO he's gone.
Our manager, Paul Trollope, has been axed from his post after five seasons at the helm.
It's a sad day, not because I feel he should have stayed but because he played such a vital role in restoring our League One status and giving us fabulous days out at the Millennium Stadium and Wembley.
But all good things come to an end and, lovely guy that Trolls is, he had been living on borrowed time.
If truth be told, he had been given far longer to get it right than other managers would have done with his recent record.
I don't think it was the fact we were losing too many games, but the manner of some of those defeats.
I can even put my finger on when it went wrong - it was after the brilliant 3-2 win at Southampton last year. Though we won the game there were still certain players who were regularly underperforming and needed to be dropped. We got away with that one because of the brilliant goalkeeping of our Danish Under 21 keeper Mikkel Andersen.
Trolls showed his loyalty and stuck by the under-performers, and the 5-1 defeat at Norwich the following weekend began a run of seven games without gaining a single point.
And since then there have been some horrendous results. Losing 5-0 at Orient last season and 3-0 at home to the same opposition this term was as bad as it got.
There were also 5-1 and 4-0 defeats at home to Southampton, a 6-2 loss at Sheffield Wednesday and a 6-1 reverse at Oxford.
In fact, that result and our FA Cup exit to non-league Darlington will have rankled with the board more than anything because of the lucrative revenue cup runs can bring.
The final straw came when we bowed out of the Paint Pot Cup on a penalty shootout to Exeter on Tuesday. We were a minute from winning that game, too, and I dare say he may have held on to the job for a few more weeks had we kept Exeter out.
But with the season effectively over by December 14 the board took what had become an inevitable decision.
Interestingly, some of the players went on Twitter to voice their disapproval. Fair enough, but if they had been putting in good performances they would be arguing from a far stronger standpoint.
The truth is on countless occasions - including last week's horrendous defeat in Sheffield which, judging by the highlights, could have been an even bigger thumping - Trolls was coming out with the same statements.
He kept talking about how the players were capable, how for some reason they didn't perform as they can, how they got a bit tired after a few weeks without any games and how they would now have to bounce back. He said he had explained to them what he wanted them to do but they hadn't carried out those instructions.
Well, if a team isn't carrying out your instructions on a regular basis then really you have to ask why not? If those players were so keen on holding on to their manager how could they capitulate in such gutless fashion on so many occasions?
I know a few managers who wouldn't have been so understanding of these "capable" players who, for some reason, didn't carry out their instructions.
Now, defenders of Trolls say that he has had his playing budget slashed and that the board haven't backed him.
I am not sure I hold with that statement.
From what I can see he was given a budget that enabled him to attract the likes of the highly rated Will Hoskins to the club, while also signing Wayne Brown from Fulham and Gary Sawyer from Plymouth. All, he said, were Championship-class players.
Unfortunately very few of the signings during his tenure came off.
Ricky Lambert, Jo Kuffour, Hoskins, yes.
Carl Regan and Jeff Hughes? The jury is still out.
But Dominic Blizzard, Darryl Duffy, Mark Wright and Andy Williams certainly didn't come close to justifying the big build-up they were given.
He was also given free rein at the start of the season, emerging from under the wing of father figure Lennie Lawrence and allowed to build his own backroom staff.
To my mind, not many managers at this level could ask for more.
Still, I would like to thank Paul Trollope for giving it a real go, adding a play-off final triumph and Paint Pot final to his CV and giving us a wonderful, rollercoaster ride which began with the joyous highs of the 2006-07 season and continued with a fabulous run to the quarter-finals of the FA Cup.
Perhaps, when he looks back, he may feel that some of the players in which he invested so much faith and loyalty didn't return the favour.
It is a tough lesson to learn in the dog-eats-dog world of management but I hope he takes it on the chin and moves on to bigger and better things.
What next for Rovers?
Well, I think they must forget about the tracksuit manager and look beyond the glorified coach.
They need a proper manager, who knows about the psychology of the game, how to get the very best out of average players and who has good contacts throughout the football world while having a strategy to develop the youth side of the game.
I keep hearing about former players getting their first leg up, the Andy Tillsons and Marcus Stewarts of this world.
But the Gas are in a relegation fight (despite what PT maintained on Monday) and need someone who has already done some of the hard yards, who has made mistakes and learnt from them. Someone who is the next stage on from Trolls.
Geraint Williams and Chris Coleman are two such people that spring to mind.
Whatever happens, it's an interesting time to be a Gashead.
Our manager, Paul Trollope, has been axed from his post after five seasons at the helm.
It's a sad day, not because I feel he should have stayed but because he played such a vital role in restoring our League One status and giving us fabulous days out at the Millennium Stadium and Wembley.
But all good things come to an end and, lovely guy that Trolls is, he had been living on borrowed time.
If truth be told, he had been given far longer to get it right than other managers would have done with his recent record.
I don't think it was the fact we were losing too many games, but the manner of some of those defeats.
I can even put my finger on when it went wrong - it was after the brilliant 3-2 win at Southampton last year. Though we won the game there were still certain players who were regularly underperforming and needed to be dropped. We got away with that one because of the brilliant goalkeeping of our Danish Under 21 keeper Mikkel Andersen.
Trolls showed his loyalty and stuck by the under-performers, and the 5-1 defeat at Norwich the following weekend began a run of seven games without gaining a single point.
And since then there have been some horrendous results. Losing 5-0 at Orient last season and 3-0 at home to the same opposition this term was as bad as it got.
There were also 5-1 and 4-0 defeats at home to Southampton, a 6-2 loss at Sheffield Wednesday and a 6-1 reverse at Oxford.
In fact, that result and our FA Cup exit to non-league Darlington will have rankled with the board more than anything because of the lucrative revenue cup runs can bring.
The final straw came when we bowed out of the Paint Pot Cup on a penalty shootout to Exeter on Tuesday. We were a minute from winning that game, too, and I dare say he may have held on to the job for a few more weeks had we kept Exeter out.
But with the season effectively over by December 14 the board took what had become an inevitable decision.
Interestingly, some of the players went on Twitter to voice their disapproval. Fair enough, but if they had been putting in good performances they would be arguing from a far stronger standpoint.
The truth is on countless occasions - including last week's horrendous defeat in Sheffield which, judging by the highlights, could have been an even bigger thumping - Trolls was coming out with the same statements.
He kept talking about how the players were capable, how for some reason they didn't perform as they can, how they got a bit tired after a few weeks without any games and how they would now have to bounce back. He said he had explained to them what he wanted them to do but they hadn't carried out those instructions.
Well, if a team isn't carrying out your instructions on a regular basis then really you have to ask why not? If those players were so keen on holding on to their manager how could they capitulate in such gutless fashion on so many occasions?
I know a few managers who wouldn't have been so understanding of these "capable" players who, for some reason, didn't carry out their instructions.
Now, defenders of Trolls say that he has had his playing budget slashed and that the board haven't backed him.
I am not sure I hold with that statement.
From what I can see he was given a budget that enabled him to attract the likes of the highly rated Will Hoskins to the club, while also signing Wayne Brown from Fulham and Gary Sawyer from Plymouth. All, he said, were Championship-class players.
Unfortunately very few of the signings during his tenure came off.
Ricky Lambert, Jo Kuffour, Hoskins, yes.
Carl Regan and Jeff Hughes? The jury is still out.
But Dominic Blizzard, Darryl Duffy, Mark Wright and Andy Williams certainly didn't come close to justifying the big build-up they were given.
He was also given free rein at the start of the season, emerging from under the wing of father figure Lennie Lawrence and allowed to build his own backroom staff.
To my mind, not many managers at this level could ask for more.
Still, I would like to thank Paul Trollope for giving it a real go, adding a play-off final triumph and Paint Pot final to his CV and giving us a wonderful, rollercoaster ride which began with the joyous highs of the 2006-07 season and continued with a fabulous run to the quarter-finals of the FA Cup.
Perhaps, when he looks back, he may feel that some of the players in which he invested so much faith and loyalty didn't return the favour.
It is a tough lesson to learn in the dog-eats-dog world of management but I hope he takes it on the chin and moves on to bigger and better things.
What next for Rovers?
Well, I think they must forget about the tracksuit manager and look beyond the glorified coach.
They need a proper manager, who knows about the psychology of the game, how to get the very best out of average players and who has good contacts throughout the football world while having a strategy to develop the youth side of the game.
I keep hearing about former players getting their first leg up, the Andy Tillsons and Marcus Stewarts of this world.
But the Gas are in a relegation fight (despite what PT maintained on Monday) and need someone who has already done some of the hard yards, who has made mistakes and learnt from them. Someone who is the next stage on from Trolls.
Geraint Williams and Chris Coleman are two such people that spring to mind.
Whatever happens, it's an interesting time to be a Gashead.
Monday 13 December 2010
Owls of agony
I'VE started a second job, just to make ends meet.
It's on the sports desk of a red-top national daily and everything has been going well.
The blokes are all down-to-earth, decent sports addicts and the banter is first class.
For example, they have taken to calling the tough-as-teak veteran journo sat next to me "Avram".
Apparently, he was watching Match of the Day with his grandkids the other day, and one of them turned to him when the camera focused on the West Ham dugout and said, "what are you doing there, Grandad?"
Of course, the man on the screen was grumpy Hammers manager Avram Grant.
The boss is a Manchester United fan from, wait for it, Manchester.
There is also the obligatory Saints fan a couple of seats down.
They have shown me a lot of respect since I've been there.
Until yesterday.
That was when the chirpy Cockney wide boy across the desk raised the inevitable question: "Who's your team then?"
I thought about lying, telling them that I had a deep affinity for the Red Devils going back to the age of seven.
Or maybe that I'd been a lifelong follower of Barcelona, ever since a memorable holiday in Spain.
But I'm not very good at lying. Think the bloke would have noticed.
My face had gone red, my hands were shaking and I was doodling nervously on a piece of paper.
Into my collar I muttered, "Bristol Rovers".
"Oh dear," came the pittying reply.
Now, in the past I would have puffed my chest out, looked him in the eye and replied in a firm, confident manner.
But recently that pride has been diminished somewhat.
I don't like being pitied.
And I've normally had a good response, have been able to protest that my team at least gave all they had and punched above their weight on occasions.
In all honesty, I can't say that now.
A 6-1 defeat at League Two Oxford, a 3-0 loss at home to seasoned strugglers Orient, and a 2-1 exit to non-league Darlington in the first round of the FA Cup.
Saturday's result, though, was the final straw.
Former big northern club whose best days have long gone 6, Clueless Shambles 2.
What made it worse was that Sheffield Wednesday fans had been describing us as a "Nobody club" on their message boards all week.
It had infuriated a fair few of our supporters, who had promised to sing their hearts out at Hillsborough to let them know exactly who we were.
And they expected our beloved Gas to play their hearts out in response.
After all, it's the Rovers way.
Or not.
In fairness, despite our mediocre position in the league table 1,500 fans turned up.
They had about 10 minutes to cheer, with the Gas having taken an early lead through our one shining star, Will Hoskins.
After that? By all accounts, diabolical.
We conceded four in the first 32 minutes and ended up being relieved to have only let in six.
I saw the highlights on the Football League Show. Absolutely embarrassing.
I've always wanted the Gas to make headlines, but not in this way.
And despite our many years of plumbing the depths of the Football League's basement I can rarely remember being so ashamed of my allegiance.
But that is how I feel today. Ashamed.
We are told we have dispensed with quantity to bring in quality players.
And in fairness, I've been pretty impressed with the likes of Hoskins and Wayne Brown.
But a team has nothing unless it has a bit of fight, a bit of bottle, a team ethic which says we will fight for the cause to our last breath.
I cast around our very competitive division and look at sides who, on paper, have not got as much going for them as us.
Tranmere, run on a shoestring with a bunch of kids making up their team.
Brentford, playing at a ground as run down as ours and boasting very few players we would covet.
Orient, as I've said before little club and serial relegation fighters.
Exeter, equally small, with few players to strike fear into the hearts of the opposition.
All above us now as we sit perilously in the bottom four of League One for the first time. Each with a manager who is getting more out of his team than its parts would suggest.
Our manager Paul Trollope said we could only judge things after 10-12 games when the table would start to sort itself out.
Well, it is doing that now - so is this our true position?
And, if not, how have we got to this situation?
The odd thrashing can be put down to a blip, a bad day at the office, an opponent that has just too much class and spending power . . .
But 5-0, 3-0, 6-1, 6-2, 4-0, 0-3, 6-2 - All in the space of a single year?
With a team largely put together by a manager who claims to have identified Championship class players capable of getting us into the play-offs.
I'm sorry, but however thankful everyone is for Mr Trollope's efforts, his unstinting hard work and the way he delivered us out of the black hole of League Two while giving us two big days out to savour at Wembley and the Millennium Stadium, it has to be plain that he has lost his way.
And for all the brave statements, the urging of the players to "bounce back" which seems to come every fortnight, and the bullish assertion that "the group" is capable and that spirit is still high, it is now plainly evident he has failed.
And failed miserably.
I'm sorry Paul, but it is time to go, and even a win in the Paint Pot tomorrow won't gloss over the evidence...
It's on the sports desk of a red-top national daily and everything has been going well.
The blokes are all down-to-earth, decent sports addicts and the banter is first class.
For example, they have taken to calling the tough-as-teak veteran journo sat next to me "Avram".
Apparently, he was watching Match of the Day with his grandkids the other day, and one of them turned to him when the camera focused on the West Ham dugout and said, "what are you doing there, Grandad?"
Of course, the man on the screen was grumpy Hammers manager Avram Grant.
The boss is a Manchester United fan from, wait for it, Manchester.
There is also the obligatory Saints fan a couple of seats down.
They have shown me a lot of respect since I've been there.
Until yesterday.
That was when the chirpy Cockney wide boy across the desk raised the inevitable question: "Who's your team then?"
I thought about lying, telling them that I had a deep affinity for the Red Devils going back to the age of seven.
Or maybe that I'd been a lifelong follower of Barcelona, ever since a memorable holiday in Spain.
But I'm not very good at lying. Think the bloke would have noticed.
My face had gone red, my hands were shaking and I was doodling nervously on a piece of paper.
Into my collar I muttered, "Bristol Rovers".
"Oh dear," came the pittying reply.
Now, in the past I would have puffed my chest out, looked him in the eye and replied in a firm, confident manner.
But recently that pride has been diminished somewhat.
I don't like being pitied.
And I've normally had a good response, have been able to protest that my team at least gave all they had and punched above their weight on occasions.
In all honesty, I can't say that now.
A 6-1 defeat at League Two Oxford, a 3-0 loss at home to seasoned strugglers Orient, and a 2-1 exit to non-league Darlington in the first round of the FA Cup.
Saturday's result, though, was the final straw.
Former big northern club whose best days have long gone 6, Clueless Shambles 2.
What made it worse was that Sheffield Wednesday fans had been describing us as a "Nobody club" on their message boards all week.
It had infuriated a fair few of our supporters, who had promised to sing their hearts out at Hillsborough to let them know exactly who we were.
And they expected our beloved Gas to play their hearts out in response.
After all, it's the Rovers way.
Or not.
In fairness, despite our mediocre position in the league table 1,500 fans turned up.
They had about 10 minutes to cheer, with the Gas having taken an early lead through our one shining star, Will Hoskins.
After that? By all accounts, diabolical.
We conceded four in the first 32 minutes and ended up being relieved to have only let in six.
I saw the highlights on the Football League Show. Absolutely embarrassing.
I've always wanted the Gas to make headlines, but not in this way.
And despite our many years of plumbing the depths of the Football League's basement I can rarely remember being so ashamed of my allegiance.
But that is how I feel today. Ashamed.
We are told we have dispensed with quantity to bring in quality players.
And in fairness, I've been pretty impressed with the likes of Hoskins and Wayne Brown.
But a team has nothing unless it has a bit of fight, a bit of bottle, a team ethic which says we will fight for the cause to our last breath.
I cast around our very competitive division and look at sides who, on paper, have not got as much going for them as us.
Tranmere, run on a shoestring with a bunch of kids making up their team.
Brentford, playing at a ground as run down as ours and boasting very few players we would covet.
Orient, as I've said before little club and serial relegation fighters.
Exeter, equally small, with few players to strike fear into the hearts of the opposition.
All above us now as we sit perilously in the bottom four of League One for the first time. Each with a manager who is getting more out of his team than its parts would suggest.
Our manager Paul Trollope said we could only judge things after 10-12 games when the table would start to sort itself out.
Well, it is doing that now - so is this our true position?
And, if not, how have we got to this situation?
The odd thrashing can be put down to a blip, a bad day at the office, an opponent that has just too much class and spending power . . .
But 5-0, 3-0, 6-1, 6-2, 4-0, 0-3, 6-2 - All in the space of a single year?
With a team largely put together by a manager who claims to have identified Championship class players capable of getting us into the play-offs.
I'm sorry, but however thankful everyone is for Mr Trollope's efforts, his unstinting hard work and the way he delivered us out of the black hole of League Two while giving us two big days out to savour at Wembley and the Millennium Stadium, it has to be plain that he has lost his way.
And for all the brave statements, the urging of the players to "bounce back" which seems to come every fortnight, and the bullish assertion that "the group" is capable and that spirit is still high, it is now plainly evident he has failed.
And failed miserably.
I'm sorry Paul, but it is time to go, and even a win in the Paint Pot tomorrow won't gloss over the evidence...
Thursday 2 December 2010
Snow business
Gutted.
As a Gashead working away from home, you have to be careful how to choose your holidays.
I studied the fixture list with great care before deciding to take a couple of weeks off.
It coincided with our home game against Exeter City in the Paint Pot Trophy and a crucial league clash against Bournemouth at the Mem.
I thought I had chosen well.
But the weather had different ideas.
A Siberian cold snap at the end of November meant the Exeter game fell by the wayside, and knowing the state of the Memorial Ground it is unlikely we'll see action in the league on Saturday either.
When the Exeter game was called off I must admit I was a bit peeved.
Standing outside there was barely a hint of snow and the temperature seemed to have risen nicely.
Watching the TV news and stories of cars getting stuck in 6ft drifts in Scotland and the North East of England didn't make me feel any better.
How on earth have we had to cancel a match when it looks like we've got off lightly?
Watching West Ham v Manchester United in the Carling Cup, played in a near blizzard, didn't raise my spirits much, but I am powerless to affect the outcome.
Some may wonder why I would wish to stand on crumbling terraces in sub-zero temperatures for almost two hours anyway.
But that's what real football supporters do, and there is a kind of masochistic pleasure in stamping your feet to take the numbness out of your toes and cradling your hands around a warm cup of bovril, having paid £18 for this eagerly anticipated night out.
No doubt I sound like Ron Manager and his "Jumpers for Goalposts" diatribes from the Fast Show, but I have fond memories of standing around in blizzard conditions cheering on the Gas.
I particularly recall one famous FA Cup fifth round tie against Ipswich Town when the snow pelted down, covering the Eastville pitch in a carpet of white.
"Playing with an orange ball in the snow? Marvellous," as Ron would say.
We gave a really good account of ourselves and but for a dodgy linesman would have won the game 3-2. Bobby Gould got through on goal, having been played on-side by a deflection by an opposition defender, and fired home the winner - only for the goal to be disallowed for offside.
Cracking game, though, and great atmosphere.
That was a very good Ipswich side with the likes of Paul Mariner, Mick Mills and George Burley in their side and managed by Bobby Robson. Unfortunately we lost the replay 3-0 and they went on to beat Arsenal 1-0 in the final.
I'm not sure if you would see a game like that these days. The pitch was pretty icy in the shadow of the North Stand, and some bright health and safety executive would definitely have stepped in to deem it unplayable. Plus the fact, I'm sure it wasn't easy for us fans to keep our footing in treacherous conditions on the pavements surrounding the ground.
Still if the worst happens and Saturday's game is called off I guess I still have the consolation that the Second Test in Adelaide won't be affected by similar problems. I'll probably have to pull an all-nighter to get my sports fix for the week.
Mind you, I am still praying a sudden thaw will save the game against the Cherries and I can risk pneumonia with the other 5,000-odd souls brave enough to go along.
As a Gashead working away from home, you have to be careful how to choose your holidays.
I studied the fixture list with great care before deciding to take a couple of weeks off.
It coincided with our home game against Exeter City in the Paint Pot Trophy and a crucial league clash against Bournemouth at the Mem.
I thought I had chosen well.
But the weather had different ideas.
A Siberian cold snap at the end of November meant the Exeter game fell by the wayside, and knowing the state of the Memorial Ground it is unlikely we'll see action in the league on Saturday either.
When the Exeter game was called off I must admit I was a bit peeved.
Standing outside there was barely a hint of snow and the temperature seemed to have risen nicely.
Watching the TV news and stories of cars getting stuck in 6ft drifts in Scotland and the North East of England didn't make me feel any better.
How on earth have we had to cancel a match when it looks like we've got off lightly?
Watching West Ham v Manchester United in the Carling Cup, played in a near blizzard, didn't raise my spirits much, but I am powerless to affect the outcome.
Some may wonder why I would wish to stand on crumbling terraces in sub-zero temperatures for almost two hours anyway.
But that's what real football supporters do, and there is a kind of masochistic pleasure in stamping your feet to take the numbness out of your toes and cradling your hands around a warm cup of bovril, having paid £18 for this eagerly anticipated night out.
No doubt I sound like Ron Manager and his "Jumpers for Goalposts" diatribes from the Fast Show, but I have fond memories of standing around in blizzard conditions cheering on the Gas.
I particularly recall one famous FA Cup fifth round tie against Ipswich Town when the snow pelted down, covering the Eastville pitch in a carpet of white.
"Playing with an orange ball in the snow? Marvellous," as Ron would say.
We gave a really good account of ourselves and but for a dodgy linesman would have won the game 3-2. Bobby Gould got through on goal, having been played on-side by a deflection by an opposition defender, and fired home the winner - only for the goal to be disallowed for offside.
Cracking game, though, and great atmosphere.
That was a very good Ipswich side with the likes of Paul Mariner, Mick Mills and George Burley in their side and managed by Bobby Robson. Unfortunately we lost the replay 3-0 and they went on to beat Arsenal 1-0 in the final.
I'm not sure if you would see a game like that these days. The pitch was pretty icy in the shadow of the North Stand, and some bright health and safety executive would definitely have stepped in to deem it unplayable. Plus the fact, I'm sure it wasn't easy for us fans to keep our footing in treacherous conditions on the pavements surrounding the ground.
Still if the worst happens and Saturday's game is called off I guess I still have the consolation that the Second Test in Adelaide won't be affected by similar problems. I'll probably have to pull an all-nighter to get my sports fix for the week.
Mind you, I am still praying a sudden thaw will save the game against the Cherries and I can risk pneumonia with the other 5,000-odd souls brave enough to go along.
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