There is a moment in 8 Mile that kept coming back to me on the drive home last night after another Lincoln City win.
It was a long but straightforward journey home, with clear roads, decent weather and three more points making everything easier. Lose Yourself came on my shuffled playlist, making me think of the film. Eminem is working his way through a rap battle at the end; his opponents keep throwing the same things at him, and he keeps beating them. The next bloke gets up, repeats the same sort of stuff, and gets the same result. “Are you not listening, meathead? You’re saying the same things he said.”
I have removed the profanity, but that, for me, feels rather like Championship teams facing City at the moment. They know what we’re about, they’ve prepared for our threat, and they’ve spoken about how difficult we’ll make it. Then we leave with a 1-0 win. They’re doing the same things the last lot did.
People might start reaching for “smash and grab” headlines, but when something keeps happening, perhaps it deserves a little more consideration than that. We have a way of approaching these games, and it is working. Bolton, Preston and now Bristol City have all had the opportunity to solve the same problem. All three have ended up with the same scoreline.
This one felt different, though. Before the season, Bolton and Preston were among the sides I thought we needed to take points from. Bolton came up with us, while Preston looked like a club we could get at. Bristol City represented something else, even allowing for the fact they are early in a new era. Inevitably, Michael Skubala was central to the evening, and this will become one of those games remembered through that association, just as the meeting with Graham Taylor’s Watford remains part of our history. Thankfully, this was rather more enjoyable than a 5-0 defeat.
I want to be clear about something before getting into the football: anyone who walked around Ashton Gate yesterday and still thought Michael Skubala had made a sideways move was seeing something different from me. Bristol City feel like a bride in waiting. I was fortunate enough to have a wander around the pitch before the ground opened, while the stewards were being briefed, and everything about it suggested a club equipped for the next level. Bolton’s ground impresses, sure, but parts behind the scenes felt tired, needing a lift. Ashton Gate felt different; it felt ready. If our ground is seen as Championship-ready, theirs is Premier League-ready.
I labour that point because it puts what we are doing into perspective. They are a substantial football club, with facilities and potential that make Michael’s decision understandable, however much we disliked losing him. I think he can build something there, given time. Last night, though, we went into that environment and won. There is a huge amount of the season left, but who honestly expected us to be eighth in the Championship on September 16? Even Cornell would have struggled to predict that with his hand on his heart.
There is some balance required: on paper, our opening has been relatively favourable once Middlesbrough and Southampton are taken out of the equation, with several opponents we hoped to compete against. Had we emerged from it in the bottom three, eyebrows would have been raised, even though finishing fourth from bottom would represent a successful season. Aren’t expectations funny things? Swansea could beat us, and the table could look rather more ordinary, but that possibility should not stop us from appreciating what has already happened. Seven or eight games cannot tell you where you will finish, but they can tell you that you belong.
We began well, with Ivan Varfolomeev winning possession, Ben House feeding Freddie Draper, in turn testing Tickle. Dom Jefferies had an effort blocked too, but Bristol City then took control of the first half. Their opportunities came more regularly, their attacking play had greater fluency, and Lorent Tolaj should probably have scored when he headed against the bar. Yu Hirakawa was their standout threat, constantly asking questions and forcing George Wickens to deal with an effort that initially looked more like a cross. We had moments, but they had the better of it.
Rio Cardines impressed me as well, particularly with his delivery before the game became more ragged. There was an odd contradiction in how I felt watching it: generally, I trusted us to keep them out, but whenever a dangerous ball came into the box, there was that little flicker of concern. We defended our goal brilliantly, yet there was enough quality coming towards it to demand concentration. Hirakawa gave Dom plenty to think about, and Ben’s willingness to get back and help was important. We were being tested, rather than simply watching a side pass harmlessly in front of us.
I expected more from Tolaj beyond his chances. He became increasingly niggly and, for me, was fortunate after the two-handed shove on a City player in the second half, having already been booked. Perhaps the reaction would have been different had it been the other way around, in front of thousands of home supporters demanding punishment. Scott Twine also struggled to impose himself, which raises a familiar question: how often can we say an opponent disappointed before crediting the team that stopped him?
A couple of years ago, I would have argued that a settled back three was essential. Now we change ours as much as I change my underwear, and the standard never drops. You could make a case that Ryley Towler is fourth in the pecking order behind Andrei Coubis, Sonny Bradley and Deji Elerewe (our very own modern-day Franz Beckenbauer). Then Ryley comes back into the side, against his former club, and looks a monster, capable of being our number one centre back. Being left out at Preston was no reflection on his performances, and his response underlined that.
It’s not just about them: the wing-backs help us escape pressure, the midfield protects the spaces, and Ben seems determined to cover any remaining patch of grass himself. He probably covers as much ground in a game as Matt Rhead did in two months (no slur, loved Rheady, but he hated running like I hate heights), although they were obviously very different players.
The important thing is that Ben’s running has purpose. “He runs around a lot” used to be a compliment with an implied limitation attached to it. Some people said it about Scott Kerr, while Kevin Gall and Derek Asamoah could cover ground without necessarily making the difference you wanted. Ben runs into the right places, at the right time, for the right ball. His work without possession is described as world-class in League One, and Championship football has not persuaded me any differently. His reading of when to go and how to make an opponent uncomfortable is exceptional.
As half-time approached, the game became increasingly fractious, and I thought that favoured us. Bristol City had knocked on the door without us answering, and their rhythm started to break down. Lisav Eissat‘s challenge on Conor McGrandles looked high and unpleasant from my position, while Deji and Freddie were both booked before the interval. Freddie’s was deserved, and although I initially questioned Deji’s, the replay showed the shirt pull. We do not need to pretend every decision against us is wrong, and if I see something a second time and see it differently, I won’t dig my heels in. What mattered was that the home side were being drawn into a battle, with frustration replacing some of their earlier fluency.
We cannot match these teams pound for pound, so we have to make the game about things that money does not guarantee. Hard work. Pressing. Structure. Organisation. Shape. Discipline. If you bring all of those to a game of 11 against 11, you can limit the opportunities for the opposition to show their ability. You can stop their expensive players getting into the positions where they hurt you, drag them into a battle they don’t want and make the afternoon about your strengths. That’s what we did at Ashton Gate.
Comments Welcome!