Lincoln City v Birmingham City: When the Real Villain Was Ourselves

Lincoln City and Birmingham City played out like a Halloween horror film, where the villains perhaps weren’t as obvious as first assumed.

There’s a familiar moment in almost every horror movie where the victims make a decision so monumentally stupid that you almost feel they deserve what happens next. They’ve heard something upstairs, so they investigate without turning the lights on. They’ve seen the masked killer lying motionless, assumed he’s dead and wandered off without checking. They’ve left a door unlocked, gone back into a room they should have avoided or split up when everybody knows that splitting up is the worst possible idea.

On Halloween, Lincoln City found themselves in a horror movie of their own. For much of the afternoon, it felt like we were being terrorised by an antagonist in the middle of the park, referee Lewis Smith, who seemed determined to make himself the central character. However, just like those unfortunate teenagers who leave the front door wide open for Jason Voorhees, we were ultimately the architects of our own downfall.

That’s not to say the antagonist wasn’t frightening. Smith was terrifyingly incompetent in key moments if you wear glasses tinted red and white. Birmingham City are a superpowered opponent, with resources, quality and individual players that we simply cannot match. Liam Millar and Patrick Roberts are two obvious examples, players who look almost too good for the Championship. I remember Roberts playing against us for Sunderland and thinking he was too good for League One. I haven’t changed my mind about his ability, even though he’s now playing a division higher.

That is the starting point for any assessment. Birmingham are a bigger club with a bigger budget, and the very foundation of a Lincoln City performance against them has to be raising ourselves to their level. We’re trying to bridge a gap that exists before a ball has even been kicked, which makes it all the more frustrating when we then shoot ourselves in the foot.

There was only one change from the Burnley victory, with Conor McGrandles missing through injury and Ivan Varfolomeev replacing him. After winning 4-1 the previous weekend, keeping a settled side was hardly surprising, and for the opening quarter of an hour, there was plenty to be encouraged by.

Mikkel Ladefoged looked comfortable leading the line, even if I’m still not convinced he actually leaves the floor when he jumps. He hit the inside of the post following good work from Ben House and Andrei Coubiș, and we looked dangerous whenever we managed to get the ball into attacking areas.

Here’s where the familiar criticism starts from the usual suspects. You can’t sugarcoat it, apparently. You can’t make excuses for losing 3-1, and you can’t find positives in defeat. The problem with that argument is that it begins from a position of equality, as though Lincoln City and Birmingham City are two clubs with identical resources and expectations.

If we’d lost 3-1 to Mansfield Town or Exeter City, clubs operating within a more comparable financial landscape, perhaps that argument would carry more weight. However, the fact we’re even disappointed about individual mistakes costing us against Birmingham, rather than simply accepting that they’re considerably better, is something of a silver lining already. We don’t need to manufacture one; it’s there before we start filling in the cloud.

The best team won. I’m not disputing that, and the expected goals figures support it. However, a significant proportion of Birmingham’s xG came after we were chasing the game, particularly from around the 72nd minute onwards. Before their second goal, there really wasn’t an enormous amount between the sides.

They reminded me much more of Southampton and Middlesbrough than Blackburn or Burnley. Roberts and Millar were threatening, August Priske was a constant nuisance, and I really liked Alex Cochrane. Little shithouse, by the way, but a very good footballer.

Their opening goal changed the complexion of the match, and my initial reaction was to blame our midfield. Varfolomeev lost possession, Yunus Konak had opportunities to deal with the danger, and we effectively presented Birmingham with the chance to take the lead.

However, there was an interesting discussion in the Stacey West chat afterwards, which broadened my thinking. Chris, who wasn’t at the game, was watching the full 90 minutes back and raised a question that I think deserves consideration: why were we attempting to play out from that position in the first place?

We weren’t set up to do it, and it’s never been fundamental to our identity. By attempting to play through Birmingham’s pressure, we’re inviting problems that wouldn’t necessarily exist if we simply played to our strengths. From that perspective, George Wickens and Sonny Bradley have to shoulder some responsibility alongside Konak and Varfolomeev.

It’s a wider discussion rather than exclusively my opinion, but it’s an important one. Chris Cohen was clear afterwards that we need to return to what we’re good at, maintaining the identity and structure that have served us so well. He was visibly upset after the game, and looking at the goals individually, I can understand why.

Despite falling behind, I thought we continued reasonably well. Birmingham looked dangerous whenever we afforded them space, but it was an engrossing contest between two sides trying to impose themselves. Unfortunately, for much of the remainder of the first half, the football became secondary to the referee.

Before the major referee controversies, there was Mikkel Ladefoged’s booking. Having watched it back, I still don’t think it’s a yellow card. Christoph Klarer knows exactly what he’s doing, glancing over his shoulder before stepping across to block the striker’s run. Ladefoged collides with him, and somehow emerges with a booking. When you’re a striker whose game depends on a bit of aggression and physicality, suddenly, you’re having to think twice before challenging, and one of the attributes that makes you effective has been compromised.

Then came the Ethan Laird incident, with Ben House caught in the face by a high boot. At the time, I was absolutely incandescent, and I could understand Tom Shaw receiving a booking for protesting. If yellow cards were being handed out for simmering rage, I’d have collected one myself. My initial instinct was that it had to be red. House had blood coming from his nose, Laird’s foot was extraordinarily high, and the challenge looked dangerous. I’ve subsequently watched it again, though, and my opinion has softened. Slightly.

I don’t think Laird intended to hurt House, and while Ben was getting beyond him, he wasn’t directly through on goal. There were covering defenders, which makes the denial of an obvious goalscoring opportunity argument difficult. It becomes a question of whether the challenge itself meets the threshold for serious foul play.

It’s almost an orange card. You know those situations where something feels like it is almost a red, but unless it reaches one, it isn’t quite enough? This might be one of them. I’m still leaning towards red, but I can just about understand the yellow, particularly after remembering that Rob Street’s similar incident against Wigan resulted in a second booking rather than a straight dismissal.

That doesn’t make the other decisions any easier to swallow.

Coubiș appeared to be brought down inside the area after battling with a Birmingham defender. At the time, I didn’t think it was a penalty, but I was adamant it should have been a corner. Having watched it again, I’m now much more sympathetic to the penalty argument. It has caused some discussion in our SW group chat, mainly between those who play football and those who play FIFA.

The defender absolutely gets the final touch before bringing Coubiș down. Our man then tries to shield the ball out of play, and the defender tries to tackle. One train of thought is that Coubiș is trying to cross and Klarer is trying to block. Whichever it is, if Klarer doesn’t get the ball but does take the player, surely there’s a potential foul? At an absolute minimum, I cannot understand the goal kick. Of course, the referee doesn’t have the luxury of watching it repeatedly, and I accept that distinction.

Then there’s Dom Jefferies, booked for simulation after going down under a challenge. Was it a penalty? Probably not. Did he deliberately throw himself down to deceive the referee? I don’t think so either. What bothered me was the reaction of the Birmingham players, with two immediately confronting Jefferies and accusing him of diving. Later, Priske went down inside our area in circumstances where I initially thought Birmingham might have a penalty (and maybe they should). Smith waved it away, which was fine, but why wasn’t Priske booked?

I don’t necessarily believe all three incidents should have produced decisions in our favour. Wearing my Lincoln-tinted glasses, I’d call the Coubiș incident a 50-50 penalty and a definite corner, the House challenge a probable red, and the Jefferies incident neither a penalty nor a booking. The problem is that in two of those incidents, the referee has made his mind up without a second’s thought. He books Laird without taking stock of the situation. Had he seen that House’s nose was all over his face, maybe we’d have a different outcome.

Birmingham supporters had complaints of their own, including a possible handball by Deji Elerewe which, on the replay, appeared to strike his shoulder. The referee got that one right. I’m not suggesting every controversial decision was automatically wrong because it went against us, but the inconsistency was infuriating.

For all that controversy, we still had an opportunity to reach half-time level. Elerewe found himself with a wonderful chance, only for James Beadle to produce an outstanding save. It’s another significant opportunity for a defender whose xG this season has reached around 2.2. He missed a good chance against Burnley, although that didn’t matter greatly in a 4-1 victory. This one was different, because a goal immediately before the interval could have transformed the atmosphere.

I got into a bit of an argument with Birmingham supporters on Twitter afterwards, because I thought their away support was surprisingly poor. The response was that they’d only brought around 1,400, but I’ve been in Lincoln crowds of 1,000 or 1,200 that have generated considerably more noise. They were quiet for much of the opening half, and I felt there was an underlying nervousness about their performance. Had Elerewe equalised, I wonder whether that anxiety might have spread from the stands onto the pitch.

Of course, Birmingham were attacking towards their supporters after the interval, something we’ve previously tried to avoid encouraging through the allocation of away seating. There’s a potential advantage in having that bank of supporters behind the goal, but only if they’re making enough noise to influence proceedings. Would an equaliser have caused Birmingham to collapse? Probably not, because they’re too good a side. However, it might have made the second half considerably more uncomfortable for them.