Peter Halmosi, love of our lives

Joni Mitchell was right – you don’t know what you got til it’s gone.

Living in Devon and (mostly) Cornwall for the first 18 years of my life I was always proud to be from the Westcountry, and following Argyle obviously only strengthened that. But it’s only when you live away from the area for any reasonable length of time, and return, that you realise what a bleddy special place it is.

The train journey down itself has me swelling with green pride. Twas thus yesterday morning as I made the trip down for our home game with Burnley, the biggest Argyle match, to my mind, in a very long time – with the Pilgrims having a strong chance of climbing into the top six with a victory.

With the neat-but-dull (I know, I’m biased) Exeter trailing in the dust, we hit the coastal line, snaking elegantly along the bottom of Devon. Just seeing the water again is enough. Teignmouth’s stunning views over the English Channel, tranquil beaches and rock formations, and pretty harbour clustered with boats stirs a feeling in my soul which does not occur anywhere further north. I pity the Lancashire folk around me and their floss-minded yarnings on gambling and inane Premiership tabloid trivia, cans of Strongbow in hand, ignoring the splendour evident outside the carriage window. Ignorant bastards have probably never even seen the sea! Or drank proper cider!

Onwards then, through the rolling hills and curvaceous green valleys of the South Hams, to the fair city where the girls are so pretty. And the Theatre Of Greens, still infuriatingly sparse at 13,500 inhabitants. Although it didn’t feel like that. The Lyndhurst produced a cracking atmosphere, and from the moment towering (both physically and psychologically) Argyle captain Lilian Nalis’ volley crept through a crowd of players – and the slippery gloves of Danish goalkeeper Brian Jensen – into the bottom corner, it began to feel like a new area.

Or rather, the resumption of an era. Namely, that of Paul Sturrock’s midas touch in the Argyle dugout. This was Plymouth’s fourth consecutive victory but for the first time, it felt like everyone BELIEVED. New songs are sprouting on the terraces – "Peter Halmosi, love of my life, I’d let him shag my wife" easily the most hilariously memorable, but the imperious Kristian Timar, rock solid Luke McCormick, and intoxicating Jamie Mackie also received huge personal fanfares. It was the sound of the fans and players rediscovering the connection that was integral to the golden years of 2001-4, and you could see from McCormick’s prolonged appreciation ritual at the final whistle how much the raucous support he had received really meant. Sure, the moaners are still there, but they were mostly drowned out at the Burnley game. The tide has changed, cynicism is giving way to love and passion. Hurrah.

So, the game then. Well, we weren’t actually that good. Burnley came to Home Park with a formidable away record, having won more games on the road than we had on our own turf. And they were impressive, with Kyle Lafferty’s movement causing plenty of problems, and Wade Elliott gave Gary Sawyer – who despite relentless endeavour is looking the weak link, with Paul Connolly massively improved at right back since the return of John ‘Sloop’ Blackley as defensive coach – a torrid time.

For long periods, particularly in the second half, Argyle were forced to soak up pressure, and this is where Timar truly excelled. I honestly can’t remember a player making so many headed clearances before in one match, and the big Hungarian has surely now supplanted Marcel Seip as Argyle’s top defender. When the Dutchman returns their partnership should be pretty much impregnable.

As for Seip’s replacement, the on-loan Russell Anderson, he looks a composed ball-playing centre-half but would not keep either of the aformentioned behemoths out of the team. Gary Teale, our other temporary Premiership recruit, looks more likely to stay and is a neat, tidy midfielder who could make a real impact once settled into the team.

Burnley were excellent and probably deserved to win, but being able to secure victory when not always in control of proceedings shows a steely, ruthless streak that Argyle have not had since Sturrock was last at the helm. Our 3-1 victory catapulted the Greens above the defeated Ipswich (at Stoke) and Charlton (at Blackpool) into the vertigo-inducing heights of fifth place, simultaenously dealing the Clarets' play-off hopes a severe dent. And in some ways it felt like long-needed revenge for two of Argyle's most painful defeats in living memory, both against Burnley - the 1994 Division Two play-off semi-final, and the 1998 relegation decider from the same league.

It was ultimately the brilliance of Halmosi which proved the biggest difference between the sides. The Green Army rarely agree on much, but one consensus seems to have arisen in the last few months – Halmosi is the best footballer to wear green since Paul Mariner, and his frankly astounding levels of technique are a match even for the England international himself. His sublime flick over the advancing goalkeeper and quick finish to restore Argyle’s first half league was one thing, but the persistence, devastating change of pace, and immensely powerful shot which forged his second – the clincher – was truly world-class.

Supposedly form is temporary, and class is permanent. Well, in football – and particularly in the 46-match dog-eat-dog scrap that is the Championship, with top and bottom only 30 points apart – form actually goes quite a long way. Twelve points has unimaginably altered the complexion of Argyle’s season. And although we have players like Halmosi and Nalis for whom the ‘permanent class’ tag applies, at the moment most of the Pilgrims squad are arguably playing outside of themselves, driven forward by confidence, togetherness, encouragement, and success. But there are only 12 games remaining, plus, hopefully, two or three play-off games, and it is quite conceivable Argyle could win the vast majority of those if the players retain this spirit and play adhere to Sturrock’s acutely effective tactics.

Fifth place, above such apparently 'massive clubs' as Wolves, Ipswich, Leicester, Norwich, Southampton, and Coventry, going into March…who would have thought it?

I’m already dreaming of a Wembley Westcountry derby with the Turnips.

RICH PARTINGTON