Through the seasons before us..

Boredom rules supreme, and since the most repetitive rumour is that we’re after wantaway striker Robert Earnshaw from Derby, and indeed, they have apparently accepted an offer for him, I got to thinking about his nickname ‘Earnie’.. this led me to thinking about Benny Hill’s song about a Milkman called Ernie, and one thing kind of led to another, and I apologise in advance for my appalling rhyming skills, but it kept me entertained for a while!

Earnie - A Forest striker, or just jest?

You could hear their heartbeats pound as strikers race across the ground,
And the ripple of the net as they’re sent tumbling down and down,
As he fed from scraps, or sat on the bench, a Ram upon his chest,
His name was Earnie, and he played for team that wasn’t blessed.

Now Earnie loved to score goals, it used to be a common treat,
But now he’s on the bench sat next to a Scouse love cheat,
They said that he was useless, scoring only twice in seven starts,
He knew in a team of wasters that he’d never top the scoring charts.

They called him Earnie, (Earnieeeeeeee)
And he was stuck rotting in Derby, and he was stressed,

He said he needed good service, Jewell said “All right, my lad,”
But fifteen hoofed balls in every game would hardly make him glad,
He said, “On the deck is where I need it, ’cause on the deck is best,”
But Paul Jewell was too busy staring at his missus’ chest.

That upset old Earnie, (Earnieeeeeee)
And he was stuck rotting in Derby, and he was stressed,

Earnie’s team soon had no rival, they were confirmed the worst,
Down before April and the lowest points, it seemed that they were cursed,
He waiting for his chance again, wishing the nightmare to end,
But hapless players and a hapless coach just drop him round the bend.

He nearly swooned when the press confirmed a way out from this hell,
Derby were after a Forest lad, but he could go t’other way as well,
He knew once an offer came his way he could be on his way,
And soon enough he’d be back to scoring come what may.

Poor old Earnie, (Earnieeeeee)
And he was stuck rotting in Derby, and he was stressed,

An offer’s been accepted, to take him from that place,
But nobody’s confirmed the club, at least not to his face,
He’s really not that bothered now - he just wants to leave Pride Park,
Embarrassed by association, he had been heard to remark.

He pondered who it could be, perhaps if Forest it would be best,
Just to stick it up the gaffer, who shags his mistress in his vest,
It doesn’t matter who it is, any way out of here will do,
But it would be sweet to score the goal that makes Derby Nil and Forest 2.

Good old Earnie, (Earnieeeee)
An escape from Derby planned, and he felt blessed.

Of course, now I’ve written that drivel I bet he ends up going back to Cardiff!

I’ve mentioned David Peace’s novel based on Clough’s famous 44 days at Leeds United, but always from the position of supreme ignorance of never having read it.  Many of you commented, quite rightly, that I should - despite my reservations having heard the reaction of the Clough family to the tome.  However, I have relented and availed myself of a copy, and blitzed through it over the last few days, and can now comment on it from a position of being at least slightly less ignorant than I was.

Firstly, it’s a good book - I tried to suspend my judgements, my feelings, my fears that it would try to annihilate my hero, and judge it on it’s own merits.  It’s very important this is fiction woven around true events, those 44 days, as well as flashbacks to time spent at both Hartlepools (as they were back then) and Derby County - all told through a narrative purported from Clough’s mind.

I do think that Clough is portrayed quite one-dimensionally - if it were the only reference material you had on him, you’d think he were an unjustifiably arrogant chain-smoking person with a drink problem and a severe case of Tourette’s syndrome, not to mention a strange fixation with losing his watch.  You would think him embittered and obsessed by Don Revie, and you would think him an insecure and weak-minded person hopelessly out of his depth when managing a team who should have been doing much better than they were.

It got me thinking to the kind of self-narratives I sometimes have though, and if I were to write them down and read them back, I would probably not think them a fair reflection on my true self either.  I have no idea whether David Peace has a more sympathetic view of Clough than his caricature portrays, but certainly the thoughts we all have from time to time might not be quite as rational and pride-inducing as those that we choose to externalise either in writing or conversation.

Certainly Peace packs the book with facts as well as fiction, told in a time-line story in sync with a time-line of past achievements - and it’s interesting and compelling reading.  I struggled with the repetitive nature of Peace’s writing, he repeats phrases constantly - although perhaps his 44 days at Leeds felt like a monotonous and repetitive cycle of difficulty.  I imagine it can’t have been easy, attempting to tackle a bunch of mature and successful players who you’d spent the last few years slagging off must have been challenging.

Whilst it’s a very poor comparison on so many levels it brought to mind Megson’s time at Forest; attempting to motivate a bunch of overpaid bloaters who’d been allowed to indulge all their bad habits under Kinnear - of course, the manager, the players and the status of the clubs bear no comparison at all - but ultimately it’s a tale of the wrong man in the wrong place at the wrong time - apparently fuelled by both his desire to escape the obscurity of managing Brighton, and his embittered need to eclipse fellow Middlesbroughite Don Revie.

In leaving Brighton he left behind Peter Taylor; I’ve written at length before how much I feel Taylor’s contribution to Clough’s success is overlooked - and in lacking his ‘right arm’ at Leeds, it certainly didn’t help his struggle.  Of course, we latterly learned that Clough was capable of a second less glorious renaissance without Taylor at Forest, but never was he to rediscover those great heights they reached together, almost with Derby County - totally with Nottingham Forest.

Aside from minor quibbles (I don’t believe, despite capable of swearing like a trooper, that Clough would have oft used ‘the C word’ as he does in the book, nor do I believe he would have drawn such vivid sexual metaphors in his mind for Derby trying to overcome Juventus in the European Cup), it was an interesting and thought-provoking read.  Who knows how accurate the account is?  Not me - I personally choose to take it with a large helping of salt, but certainly it’s a book that is worth reading.

It didn’t leave me particularly emotionally touched, which books like ‘Provided you don’t kiss me‘ and ‘My father and other working class football heroes‘ did - but perhaps that isn’t the intention; so this isn’t exactly a rave review, but it’s somewhat a retraction on my previous reticence to even consider picking up the book - I don’t feel the time I’ve spent on it has been wasted, equally I wouldn’t say it’s inspired me either.  A worthwhile way to have spent the playoff weekend, though!

No? Me either!  Here are some more to enjoy - no goals this time, just the aftermath of the game and what it meant to the players and staff alike, not to mention the fans.  Keep an eye out for Terry the Kitman who makes a fairly prominent appearance!!

Whatever would we have done without YouTube?!

Sometimes something completely random pops into your email and leaves you lost for words because of the sheer unlikeliness of it.  I had a few of those last week, they involved Forest getting automatic promotion, and that happened!  Today I received this from Rich Fisher, who is appealing for your old Forest shirts so that he can put them towards a very good cause, which certainly does sound like the most random thing ever… read on…

Dear NFFC Blog,

I’m hoping you can help me out by making mention on your fine site of a truly noble mission that I am undertaking this summer…. and which I need Reds fans to help me with.
 
Yes, this may sound crazy - but I’m going to attempt to make Forest the biggest football team in Mongolia!
 
Allow me to explain!
 
Basically, I’m a lifelong Reds fan - and this summer, a friend and I are taking part in a charity event called the Mongol Rally.
 
For the benefit of anyone who hasn’t heard of this, this will basically involve us attempting to drive all the way from the UK to Mongolia in a really crap car - and getting people to sponsor us.
 
All of the money we raise will be going to charities who support orphaned street children in Mongolia - some who we will hopefully be visiting when we complete our epic 8,000 mile journey and arrive in Mongolia.
 
And in addition to raising cash and having an amazing adventure, we’ve decided we want to take the opportunity to spread the word of the mighty Reds - by accumulating as many old Forest shirts as we can, and dishing them out to the street children of Mongolia.
 
So, if any fans have any old shirts that they no longer want festering away in a drawer somewhere, I’d be very interested in hearing from them.
 
I’m sure there isn’t a single Forest fan who wouldn’t be amused be the idea of lots of young Mongolian children running around the streets of Ulaanbaatar wearing the famous garibaldi red.
 
If any visitors to your site can help, please tell them to get in touch with me via email at richardpfisher@hotmail.com.
 
Meanwhile, anyone wanting to find out more about me and my mate’s Mongol Rally adventure, go to www.richandedsexcellentadventure.com
 
Cheers,
 
Rich Fisher

So, if any of you have any old shirts lurking in a cupboard somewhere that either don’t fit or won’t get used, then please get in touch with Rich.  I’ve sorted out a couple from the back of my cupboards to send to Mongolia, because, as Rich quite rightly states, it would be great to think of some little Mongolian tykes running amok in Ulaanbataar (I had to look that up!) wearing them.

Now I’ve (almost) calmed down from a few days of madness, I would like to offer an apology to Smoulds.  I initially was very fond of our bronzen manager, and had a great deal of fun constructing an imaginary lothario loosely based around him - at times this season, though, I have howled with rage and derision and posted numerous times that I’d like to see him vacate the helm at Forest.

He has every right to feel both very smug and very vindicated as he and the team celebrate snatching automatic promotion.  When he said a few weeks back, as the gap to Carlisle was 11 points, we called him mad for saying we still had an opportunity.  As Doncaster were closing the gap but we weren’t, we called him mad for saying it kept the pressure on Carlisle.  Some of us called him a lot worse.

I certainly stand by my more lucid criticisms, because whilst this season has undoubtedly been a success - the target was automatic promotion, and that target was met, it hasn’t been entertaining.  I started to see glimpses in the first half against Yeovil about how Smoulders’ system might work in an entertaining fashion, and maybe with some new recruits and with less defensive opponents it might.

The constant ramming of square pegs in round holes will also be something I can’t bring myself to forget - despite his run of goals at the start of the season, Chambers has never looked comfortable at fullback, particularly with no covering winger infront of him.  But for all those criticisms both fair and unfair, Smoulds has stuck to his guns and delivered - and for that he has my heartfelt thanks, and a genuine apology for any criticisms I may have levelled that were unfair.

At the very least he has earned the right to take us to the next level - as Nigel Doughty pointed out post-match yesterday, he’s a relatively young manager - five seasons of management have yielded three playoff finishes (and failures), and two automatic promotions.  I’ll tell you what, I’ll take that for next season in a shot - even the playoff failure part.  So I’m prepared to wipe the slate clean for next season.

Thanks for all your hard work, Smoulds, and thanks for putting up with fickle boggers such as myself - in a ground where the ecstatic feelings were palpable at the weekend, I imagine there were few feeling better than yourself - and you’ve earned it, along with the team.  Of course, there was a slice of luck, but we’ve had enough slices of bad luck earlier in the season too - it’s true these things generally balance out.

SMOULDERWOOD’S RED ‘n’ WHITE ARMY!

It’s come to that time of the year when football teams start to woo their supporters to get on board for another season of thrills and spills.  You have teams like Bradford offering ‘2 for the price of 1′ on season tickets, and other clubs around the country offering incentives in the form of discounts for those supporters committing to renew their season tickets for another season - it’s potentially an exciting time.

Of course, as Forest fans we’d know very little about this - because Forest never ever offer any such foresight.  Almost inevitably, there’ll be the usual nominal £20ish ‘discount’ for renewing that we can no doubt expect, we can also expect to not discover how much we’ll be expected to part with for another season until this one is finished.  Whether that’s purely because we’re still in with a shout of promotion.

That’s where it’s all wrong.  A sub 16,000 crowd - albeit on a tuesday night - should be a stark warning to the powers-that-be at Nottingham Forest, it is a portent that fans are ready to vote with their feet, largely due to the awful football being served up by Smoulderwood.  I know people who live locally with season tickets who didn’t attend, because they couldn’t be bothered - that should be setting some alarm bells ringing somewhere - yet why do I get the feeling that those that run the club would be less worried by this, since they have their money anyway.

Whatever the season ticket pricing policy is to be next season, it would be nice to know in advance what is to be expected of us - having sunk hundreds of pounds, nay, thousands into a series of disappointing campaigns (understatement!), it has started to fill me with resentment that I have to wait until the season is finished, and our fate is known, whilst mates who support other teams may have already signed up for next season for a generous discount.

The only communication we’ve had as fans from the club lately is Smoulders babbling in the Evening Post about the fans impacting on the players performance with their negativity.  Sure, I don’t like to hear the crowd booing either, Smoulds, but the boos are largely for you rather than the players - and I can understand why, you are tactically naive and you don’t understand how to get the best out of your players - you are a poor motivator, tactician and coach.

There is an earsplitting silence from a board-level at Forest lately.  It seems unless there are announcements relating to improbable 50,000 seater stadiums (let’s face it, keep going as we are we could demolish the Main Stand and still have spare seats), then Mr Arthur isn’t interested in communicating with the fans - I would like to hear him come out and speak about season ticket pricing next season, not sit on his hands and see if we somehow haul ourselves out of this league through the playoffs to justify a price hike.

It’s not a nice time to be observing Forest and writing about them, but I do feel we are reaching a watershed moment for many fans - further underachievement for high prices will see more and more fans turning their back on the club, and whilst I wouldn’t count myself in their number just yet, I can’t say I blame them.  We’re at an all-time low in terms of league standing, and the mood of the fans is starting to reflect this - we could do with some motivation from the powers-that-be.  Will it be forthcoming?  I won’t be holding my breath…

… while searching for a suitable image for this piece, I found this link, which made me feel even more miserable!

I’ve read a few pieces by this chap, a couple at least about Forest, and whilst it can be dripping with cliche a little it did get me thinking that certainly I for one need to try to contain the threat of all-consuming negativity that engulfs us at the moment.  Indeed, their Forest section is generally a decent read should you fancy a different place to read about the mighty Reds.

The basic tenet of the article is that Smoulders epitomises the ‘playing not to lose’ mentality, which shackles us with a fear of losing as well as, perversely, a fear of winning as well.  Now, anyone who has attended The Office style business training might recognise this kind of language and start to cringe a little, but applied to football it has a much more realistic application.

Of course, the guide in question doesn’t get down to exactly how one goes about addressing this mentality issue - certainly being a defender, it is perfectly understandable that this art is the focus of Smoulderwood’s tactical machinations.  The Doncaster game is a good case in point, he approached the game talking the talk - eight wins in eight needed, automatic still the target, and then delivered a shameful performance (with a little help from the players of course).

We seem to play three quarters of a game with this ‘playing not to lose’ mentality, by which point we concede the inevitable goal and then - generally after a wait - we see the inevitable and shapeless hurling on of attacking players without any real gameplan to somehow try to force the win.  It’s as predictable as it is infuriating, and I hope not to see another repeat of it at Carlisle on tuesday!

So, Smoulders, should you be reading (which I doubt!) - let’s have some positivity from kick off, let’s play with some width (you do NOT achieve this by shoehorning two centrebacks into a wingback role), let’s have two wingers - if Commons isn’t fit, play Bastians, let’s have McCleary on the right, let’s let our strikers get in the box rather than having to come deep or wide to get the ball - let’s show some balls.

You’d have to be a complete mentalist to think there’s any hope in hell at all that we can reach second, but we can go into the playoffs on a good run - and guard against the very real danger of dropping out of promotion contention altogether, and both manager and team could do very well to deliver some decent positive performances to try to repair the seemingly broken relationship between fans and club.

Play positively and attack at Carlisle and us fans (at least the ones not wise enough to get a refund on their tickets upon postponement!) will respond in kind - the media may berate supporters for being ‘fickle’ or unreasonable, but I wonder if they were paying to watch such dirges they would perhaps be a little more sympathetic to our plight.

If the powers-that-be at Forest want the ugly scenes at Doncaster to not be repeated then it must start with a positive performance, after which Smoulderwood needs to get a grip on reality and not get carried away with talk of anything other than sensible preparation for the play offs.  If all this happens, I might - just might - stop moaning a bit!

As recently as last night you might have heard the old refrain ‘When Derby go down again, again, we’ll sing, we’ll sing’ as the huddled Reds fans tried to amuse themselves in the face of a shambolic performance on the pitch by Forest.

Well, the inevitable has happened in what was dubbed by the Daily Mirror as ‘the worst Premier League game ever’, which actually sounded reasonably entertaining from the internet updates I saw.  After having a chuckle at Paul Jewell’s sex tape antics, I imagine a few Forest fans are raising a consolatory glass of something mind-numbing to the first ever Premier League side to be relegated before March is out.

I can’t say it’s filled me with much joy, to be honest - because, let’s face it, no matter how desperate the Rams’ season has been as they plot a course for the worst points total ever, I imagine there’s some consolation that they not only netted a pile of cash for reaching the top flight, but they will get to trouser a load more in the form of parachute payments over the next couple of seasons.

Sure, a Derby relegation is always something to be pleased about for us - but put in context with our own situation, down to fifth now thanks to Southend winning today, in real danger of not even making the playoffs, it does make you realise that we’re really not in any position to be gloating about anything - which is a bit depressing!

So yeah, it may well be that the metaphorical Ian Moore scored a goal, and they can indeed shove their Hector up their hole, but frankly, I’m not sure I can muster up the enthusiasm now Derby have gone down again - because it doesn’t look like we’ll be playing ‘em next year… that’s probably a good thing, considering.

A, how shall I put this, ‘limited’ atmosphere at the City Ground isn’t particularly new news.  Indeed, any of us lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you see it) enough to visit other team’s grounds reasonably frequently will know well that home crowds don’t generally generate particularly good atmospheres compared to their concentrated travelling counterparts.

But this afternoon was a new low in terms of volume from the home support, and this isn’t a criticism of the fans - merely an observation (although jibes of ‘worst support we’ve ever seen’ from a team who play at home in an atmosphere like a school sports day did bring a wry smile as I sat there wondering why I’d bothered getting down to the ground).

Now, I can remember when I was a kid - we’d get geared up to head down the City Ground, and we’d be excited.  I’d get that tingling feeling as we cleared the buildings at the end of Trent Bridge and get a first glimpse of the ground, ‘FOREST’ clearly visible in the Executive Stand seats over the old Trent End cowshed.  The air would be buzzing as we walked down by the river to our turnstile.

As the players warmed up before the game they’d each get a chant in turn, before returning to the changing room for any final words of wisdom before being sent out just before kick off - where of course, we had the massive atmosphere-boosing experience of ‘the Psycho salute’ - something that I’m so grateful to have experienced, so sad that I probably never will again.

Pan forward to today - I trudged out of bed having indulged a little more than I intended, feeling tender headed.  Cursed slightly as I realised I had a Forest game to attend, found my season ticket, drove to park the car up and continued the trudge to the ground - timing it to get in as close to kickoff as possible, feeling none of the anticipation or excitement I described above.

As the players warmed up all was silent, as they came out for the game there was no Psycho salute - indeed, captain Kelvin lead the team out at such a slow pace he was overtaken by his teammates before he’d crossed the line pretty much!  The players were greeted with what is best described as a polite ripple of applause perhaps with a smattering of ‘You Reds!’ cries from those who’d had a few pre-match beers.

Tired of years of underachieving, tired in particular of nigh on two years of dire Smoulderwood-inspired defensive dirges, uninspired and irritable, the fans await the players to ignite them into enthusiasm.  This is a Mexican standoff that would make Miss Havisham’s hermitage in Great Expectations* seem like a short-lived reaction to extreme disappointment.

The players line up in shapeless uninspired formations, presumably acting on shapeless uninspired direction from team talks before the game and at half time, and ultimately deliver disappointing performances with occasional glimpses of the potential we know that they can deliver on their day.  More and more teams come to the City Ground knowing exactly how to stifle us, and frankly, it isn’t rocket science.

As this goes on, the local media - or in particular, the Evening Post - chides the fans into playing their part, into making the City Ground into the cauldron that I can never remember it being in my visits there, to back the side that lets us down irrespective of the level of commitment being shown - it’s insulting, irksome, and frankly, it would seem that supporters are just too fed up of it all to comply blindly if today’s atmosphere is anything to go by.

Coupled with the lack of compulsion to get off your seat and make a load of noise, there’s always the underlying threat that if you did just that then there’s every chance you’d get hoiked off your seat by the nearest steward and end up with your season ticket confiscated, I’ve had a few emails now and a few personal experiences of seeing people ejected for literally just standing and chanting - nothing abusive either.

So whilst Smoulds on the radio or some self-righteous reporter** in the local rag are suggesting we should be backing the boys vocally, perhaps they should investigate the draconian policies being enforced by Alan Bexon’s warriors in yellow before recommending this - there’s scant reason or motivation enough for us to be chanting or singing, without the threat of being chucked out if we do!

With six wins so far this calendar year (out of seventeen), we are on a run of form that sees us in more danger of dropping out of the playoffs than chasing the automatic promotion places we crave so badly.  With the second best home defensive record in the season, thank heavens we’ve managed to get a backup goalkeeper in on loan, eh?

* - no pun intended!
** - this coming from an amateur self-righteous reporter!

With an appalling run of results over recent games, punctuated by the occasional decent one like at Orient, supporter confidence appears to be at a palpably new low despite Smoulderwood’s comments post-Crewe suggestion he wasn’t unhappy (but boy, doesn’t the bronzen one look worse for wear?), I’m starting to whiff the all-too-familiar whiff of a manager bereft of ideas.

I really wanted it to work out for Smoulders this season - whilst I, along with many others, were baying for blood after the shameful playoff performance at the City Ground against Yeovil, he did good work in winning me around with an impressive haul in the summer on the transfer front - and the promise of a decent attack-minded lineup seduced me into that irrational belief all us football fans can be familiar with.

However, and let’s be honest, this season has been dire.  Outside observers look at us gone out when we complain as we topped the table at Christmas, our supposedly strong home form and our placement within reach of the automatic promotion spots - but let’s face it, with the resources and squad at our disposal we have looked anything but convincing on the pitch.

Smoulderwood plays with a ‘must not lose’ mentality, which is of course an important component of any tactics - Clough himself would always speak of building a team on the foundation of a solid defence - however, he doesn’t seem to grasp the need for us to attack, nor how best to structure his sides to furnish the attacking players with chances to do so.

When we acquired him as a manager, I was surprised at the reaction of near-delirium from Northampton Town fans, who flooded Forest message boards thanking us for taking him off their hands.  I wrote this off as sour grapes at the time - he’d just got the Cobblers promoted, after all, so surely they should have had some semblance of fondness for the man who’d lead them to it?

It would appear it wasn’t sour grapes - unforgiveably I must admit there is a small part of me (and it is small) that fears that should we somehow haul our arses back into promotion contention, or somehow flourish in the playoffs (if we even finish in the top six at this rate!), that we’ll be kicking ourselves at it would make the removal of him that little bit more difficult.

How depressing is that?  Fortunately I fear this will not be a dilemma that we have to fear - as long as Smoulds is at the helm, I do not believe promotion will be forthcoming for us.  I’m sorry to say it, Smoulderwood appears to be a nice bloke, he has decent credentials from his playing days, but as a manager he has done nothing but infuriate and hamstring us - particularly when the pressure is on.

Of course, the worry is that we then have to rely on a senior management team who have delivered us a series of failures to appoint a new manager, that fear in itself is no reason for the incumbent to keep his job - but lord knows who we would end up with to replace him.  I wouldn’t be sorry to see him go, but can offer no solution aside from promoting Pemberton - who has been working wonders with the reserves - for the remainder of the season.

We face another crunch away trip as soon as Tuesday, down to deepest darkest Essex to face Southend, who have picked up again of late and will relish the opportunity to strengthen their own playoff credentials with a win over floundering Forest - how valuable a win at Roots Hall would be to us, but how unlikely it seems is a worry. 

Whilst we labour over this fixture, Carlisle will no doubt beat Luton at home, Doncaster will beat Gillingham, Leeds will beat Cheltenham and Walsall will beat Brighton - all these games at home for our promotion rivals - this would put us down to fifth, on equal points with sixth place Southend, teetering on the brink of dropping out of the top six.

Woe is me, today, eh?  However, this is Smoulders’ second season in this league, with a considerably bigger budget than his rivals, and he has delivered little or no meaningful progress - I see no purpose in seeking or joining campaigns for his removal, however I have reached a point where I would not be displeased to hear of his resignation or sacking.  And then, I acknowledge, we start the same old cycle again…

… which does open those that appoint these managers up for a bit of scrutiny, I would think.  Having said that, and echoing some of the comments in the other recent posts, as supporters we should be doing everything we can to back the side in the upcoming fixtures.  Not always an easy ask, but negativity and nonsense at games serves no purpose - save that for posting on here!