The Fisherman’s Friend

To begin then, congratulations to Newcastle - to the team,  Gary van Egmond and the fans.  All played their part on Sunday, all came together to will, construct and execute a well earned victory. In all honesty, the Mariners were never in the contest, and in all honesty if the Holland penalty had been given, one travesty of justice would have replaced another.
Walking into the game, navigating and collecting all the merchandising on the way, the two fan groups nonchalantly mingling as they milled towards their allocated entrances, suddenly the mood changed inside the stadium, and from my point of view, it wasn’t good. I need to qualify the last statement by pointing out where we were sitting -  Bay 55 row AA, high up in the western stand deep in jets fan territory.

Oh dear.

This position had two unfortunate, if inevidable consequences.

The first was to experience in panoramic spendour the Newcastle home end in all its unbridled display. When they broke out the enormous banner in  its golden chimera, the sun, on cue, broke upon on the shimmering lycra covering twenty odd rows, creating a majestic sight that, strangely, was not even reciprocated at the Mariner’s end.

Where was our response?

Exhausted, it seems, still glowing in the reverie of two weeks before.

This post is not to find fault in the turnout or dedication of our fans. Reports indicate there were more Mariner than Newcastle fans, and on the day it seemed about right. They just seemed, like their team on the field, more desperate, more wanting of the prize on the day. Just like we were two weeks ago.

The second unfortunate consequence of sitting so high in the stands was to see in isomorphic clarity the travesty of our game -  the game  - as it played out before us.

Somehow, everything good from the previous game had vanished, every mistake we had forced the newcastle players to play in the last game was being forced onto us. Here I give kudos to Gary van Egmond for finding out the Mariners’ style of play and adjusting his team formation to shutdown and nullify the heart of our method. Jedinak, usually so assured in the middle, was giving away ball after ball, Hutchinson looked lost and overwhelmed. I am no tactician, and formations for the most part are a game of conversational bluff on my part, but even without a previous grounding in how Van Egmond laid out his team throughout the year, I could see they were playing three at the back, teaming up on Petrovski and Aloisi in the middle. Why were we playing so narrow? Why were we playing so slow, so indecisively? I remarked in a post before the game at Bluetongue that we needed to play and pass as quickly as the jets did, with less time on the ball and with quicker passes, but here we were playing like my 35’s team, always one touch too many, the delayed pass allowing their defence to get back and set up, safe in the knowledge that we would, again, pump the ball over trying to find Aloisi’s head. Very one dimensional stuff,  and I could, when I didn’t have my head in my hands, channel each mariner player on the ball  holding on to the ball that second too long asking himself, “who’s running off me, where’s the option?”, when there was none. The telepathy was gone, and with it any creativity in our game.

Why weren’t we pushing the ball wide more? Why weren’t the forwards running off the ball carrier? We neede to stretch the back three while the covering mids were still up the field, and in the first 20 minutes of the second half  we started to do just that - sort of. Petrovski, so mobile at Bluetongue, seemed content to stay in the middle of the park near Aloisi for the most part, and in truth I couldn’t remember a fully struck shot on goal in the whole game. The venom was missing, and McKinna left it far too long to sub Kwasnik and Owens for Gumprecht and Pondeljak.

And Newcastle? They tried to pass it around in midfield, its true, and their ball skills were evidenced by a better understanding between each other  - Song in particular looked much more assured on the ball, even if he wasted quite a few balls at corners and what not, but with their numerical advantage in midfield (through  having a back three) they always had one more option, and our lovable bus of a defence did well I thought, bar of course Vidmar’s tragic slip. I remember vividly though the preceding three exchanges of possession before the goal. Each time we recovered the ball from a Jets attack, we immediately - in the first pass out from midfield - gave it straight back to them, coughing it up with monotonous regularity just as the Newcastle midfield had two weeks ago. Nevertheless, in truth Newcastle played prettier football for not much more result - their final third, with Griffiths held back and shadowed by Jedinak like a puppy ( a tactic thoughtfully employed by Van Egmond to drag the CCM midfield out of shape) still should have scored more than the one goal on the day, and while Newcastle did dominate on the day, the game itself was a turgid affair. People say that is how finals are, but for all the bleating on about teams who pass and play, and teams that do not, there is still not enough individual skill, and only intermittant team intelligence, in the local game to prove any pseudo-Platonic truth in football that may be espouced by those with the mind to. Van Egmond out-thought McKinna on the day, and his strengths lie in his willingness to adapt to different game situations and change his team formation to that situation. He sets out what he has and he doesn’t always get it right, but he did on Sunday.

It’s still a clumsy league, with a finals series solely there to make the FFA money. Fair enough for now, but just make the trains run on time, manage expenditure  - and improve the consistancy of refereeing, please. The referees have become reagents, not solvents in the mix - resulting in reaction, and not as is their role, in distillation.