Black Wednesday

I’m writing this and wishing I was somewhere else. Anywhere with a telly and selling alcohol, ideally. But it wasn’t to be, and like many football fans I have found myself a victim of the grand overlords of Sky TV. This Saturday just gone, April 12th, I had originally intended to attend Plymouth Argyle’s scheduled match at Sheffield Wednesday, our 43rd Championship fixture of the season and potentially (certainly at the time of organising the trip) decisive in our play-off push. I booked my train tickets from my home in Gloucestershire four weeks in advance to avoid the ridiculous cost of on-the-day public transport, and waited for match tickets to go on sale. Alas, it was at this point that Rupert Murdoch’s media machine – generally about as interested in covering Argyle as a vegan is in eating veal – whirred into seemingly aimless action and had the game moved to Monday night for live transmission to subscribers. At the same time when my return travel, already purchased, was due to occur.

Thus here I am, tapping away on my laptop while almost anything could be happening at Hillsbrough. The bleddy train even went through Sheffield on the way down, but with it being nearly 9pm I considered jumping off, watching the rest of the game and spending the night in the station to be a little pointless, especially given recent events.

I’ve been somewhat absent from this site for a couple of weeks, for two reasons. Firstly, my University course has been rather more hectic and difficult than usual, but, far more pertinently, Argyle have managed almost entirely extinguish our greatest ever hopes of reaching the top flight of English football. First there was the embarrassing 3-1 loss at struggling Coventry, with the Greens 3-0 down before the much-maligned Steve McLean grabbed an admittedly impressive consolation. This left us needing, realistically, four wins from our last five matches going into the home tie with Charlton. I travelled down full of hope and expectation and, despite a dire showing by both teams, Jermaine Easter’s second-half goal looked likely to be the difference between them. Then Luke McCormick had one of those spells where everything goes wrong, twice fumbling in his own six-yard box and giving visiting striker Leroy Lita a pair of tap-ins. Heartbreaking.

Since then the crushing, numbing disappointment of losing to two poor sides has got the better of me, and I’ve attempted to hide from football – frequenting the BBC Sport website less often, shunning Focus and MOTD, skipping the sports pages. Still, the ‘beauty’ of the Argyle White Membership I have is you get six home match vouchers to use throughout the season, and I’ve got one left. So I’ll be there for the Preston game on Saturday, when Argyle will in all likelihood have little to play for but pride, and possibly a highest-ever league finish in my lifetime. That, at least, should whet the appetite for another crack next season.

RICH PARTINGTON

Gutless. Witless. Pathetic.

One of the major problems with keeping a regular blog on your football team is that while it’s great fun to wax lyrical on famous victories and dazzling players, bringing yourself to write about those days when your heroes don’t quite cover themselves in glory isn’t quite as enjoyable.

So it is then that I’ve given myself a couple of days to recover from the farcical debacle of Tuesday night at Glanford Park, but the passing hours have barely dimmed how utterly appalled I am at Argyle’s performance in the 1-0 defeat against Scunthorpe United.

Admittedly, there were mitigating factors. The howling wind gusting off the Humber rendered anything but on-the-floor tactics impractical in the first half, and, under Paul Sturrock, this is not Argyle’s forte. But our brainless incompetence in adapting to this was still a site to behold, or rather, one I wish I hadn't. Once Scunthorpe – who were even worse than Argyle and comfortably the poorest side I’ve ever seen in the second tier of English professional football – managed to squeeze a rather fortunate effort past Luke McCormick early in the second half, referee Stuart Attwell appeared to decide that it would be easier, in such an awful game, for the team who scored first to win, and from there on in Argyle were the victims of a run of decisions almost as disgraceful as their performance.

The men in yellow were as awful as our luminous away kit. Lee Hodges, mystifyingly restored to left-back in place of the improving Gary Sawyer, insisted on hoofing the ball skywards every time he received it, despite the force of the wind curling every effort backwards. Hodges, who never had the technical gifts even for third level football but has often displayed enough grit and determination to disguise these failings, was on this occasion so bad that when McCormick was sent off on 71 minutes for handling the ball outside his area, Hodges replaced him and was actually better between the sticks than he had been outfield.

Steve McLean’s ridiculous ineptitude was almost funny, displaying an inability to complete one-yard passes or keep control of even the gentlest of loose balls. Argyle’s most expensive ever signing looked at best lost and at worst uninterested, and got absolutely nowhere near even having a shot at goal, let alone scoring. Lilian Nalis and Jimmy Abdou, in central midfield, were ineffectual to the extent that the only time they were noticed was when needlessly giving away the ball. Paul Connolly's primary achievement was managing to sky the white sphere high, over and out of the shack masquerading as a Championship football ground (which provoked such classics and "My garden shed is bigger than this...", and the more modern twist of "Is your ground from MFI?" from the Green Army) on three separate occasions.

The roll-call of villains in day-glo had a few notable exceptions. Jamie Mackie was given his first start at long last and was Argyle’s sole attacking threat, with the pace, energy, and desire lacking elsewhere. Picking up the ball and realising the rest of his team were going to be of little use, Mackie took on the Scunny defence single-handedly, beating defenders and causing havoc. Sturrock seemed to be mocking either Mackie, the fans, or perhaps even himself when choosing to withdraw the 22-year-old from Horsham for lost cause Rory Fallon. Luggy also refused to bring on Jermaine Easter, who had not even really deserved to be dropped, instead persevering with the hopeless McLean.

Gary Teale added more urgency when on as a sub for Chris Clark, who until this moment I had completely forgotten the existence of, such was his anonymity.

And Russell Anderson was generally able to neutralise what passed for a Scunthorpe attack, despite the goal.

Despite all of this, Argyle still should have won. Scunthorpe were a collective of clueless pub players with a dodgy keeper and a colander defence. On any other day the Greens should have won 7 or 8-0. It is laughable that Scunthorpe manager Nigel Adkins described his players as 'absolutely magnificent'. If that's true, I'd hate to see them on a bad day. No wonder there were less than 4000 home fans present.

It must be said that the 400 or so travelling supporters were, as usual, immense, providing faultless vocal encouragement for the majority of the game, until even the infinite stoicism which the average Argyle exile wears like a badge of honour began to disintegrate. The likes of Mackie and McCormick - the players that care - clearly appreciated this, and were not shy about showing it. A pumped fist from Mackie and a quick clap from Luke while play continued said it all. And the keeper gave the Green throng the best moment of the entire evening, clearing up a slack Connolly backpass with a nonchalant drag back and turn which left the advancing Scunny striker flailing.

The Argyle fans were certainly louder than their hosts. Even after scoring and at the final whistle, the Lincolnshire natives were largely silent, save for a dozen or so screeching kids immediately to our right. I have literally never encountered such an unenthusiastic home crowd, although as previously explained, their team provide little to shout about.

I’m struggling to decide whether the similarly poor results for Argyle’s playoff challengers – Hull, Ipswich, Charlton, and Wolves – in the last couple of days is a good or bad thing. On the one hand, we are still very much in the race - seventh, only a point away from the magical zone which will allow the extension of our season beyond 46 games. Had we beaten the Iron, as we really should have done, Argyle would be fifth on 58 points, two ahead of Charlton and Hull.

This is despite three defeats in four games, which really should have seen us left in the dirt. But the Championship is wildly unpredictable this season. I’d have said it was a poor league, but the FA Cup semi-final line-up, with three teams from the second tier present, somewhat contradicts this. And two of those, Barnsley (who have beaten two members of the ‘big four’, Liverpool and Chelsea, on their way to Wembley) and Cardiff, are nowhere near the playoffs.

So, in conclusion, if Argyle beat Bristol City at Ashton Gate on Saturday, which I doubt we will, then anything is possible. If we don’t, the playoff charge is definitely over. I’m sure of it. Maybe. Unless we then win a few games…

RICH PARTINGTON

Outplayed but never outsung

Twelve hours ago I awoke with the fuzzy, spreading glow of hope that the 2007-8 season may turn out to be the greatest in Plymouth Argyle’s history. And despite the 3-0 mauling the Greens got at West Bromwich Albion today, it refuses to leave me. Because the almost carnival atmosphere present amongst the 3000 travelling Pilgrims swarming to the Hawthorns provided a clear marker of the positive momentum which has already been accrued. This defeat felt like little more than a setback, and one achieved by an overly numerous margin.

As silver linings go, comprehensively outshouting your opponents from the stands is not to be sniffed at. From well before kick-off, in the pubs and streets of Sandwell, Westcountry accents bawled out all the old favourites and KC & The Sunshine Band-inspired newies. The 19,000 home fans were relatively subdued throughout proceedings, and even after each goal their Boinging seemed oddly restrained. The Green Army were able to eagerly indulge in mocking chants of the "worst support we’ve ever seen" variety, while, in contrast, proding a level of verbal support which was frankly astounding.

The effect of this on players like Paul Connolly and Kristian Timar was immediately obvious. The Baggies were clearly the more technically proficient side, but Argyle outfought them for large parts of the first half, until lacklustre defending allowed Zoltan Gera to scramble home on halftime. A sickening blow for Argyle, a slightly below-par visiting side failed to recover, and Uriah Rennie’s big club refereeing and two more scrappy goals put paid to our hopes.

But we roll on, now effectively joint-sixth with Ipswich, and Tuesday’s home clash with demotion-doomed Colchester United assumes significant importance. The line-up requires refreshment; Steve McLean currently looks lightweight and lacking in confidence, a pair of accusations which it would be unthinkable to level at Jamie Mackie – whose flashes of brilliance during limited runouts from the bench deserve greater exposure. Even today, with his team-mates low on ideas and drive with the game already lost, Mackie beat defenders, won free-kicks, and was unlucky not to be given a penalty after being clattered eight yards out. He deserves a full test alongside the hardworking Jermaine Easter.

Gary Teale is also yet to impress, while his second-half replacement today, Chris Clark, looked sprightly on returning from injury. Let’s hope the change is effective from 7.45pm in midweek.

Argyle should beat Colchester, but either way there is a new spirit and verve among fanbase and players which promises to bring greater glory.

RICH PARTINGTON

'The Three Maccateers' continue Argyle revival

A week is a long time in…blah blah blah.

But how apt a phrase that is today. Six points, two clean sheets, and a pair of commanding performances on, the pessimism pervading Plymouth Argyle at the end of January has given way to renewed hopes of a Championship play-off punt.

Argyle sit just two points outside the top six after Tuesday’s comprehensive 3-0 success at home to ten-man Barnsley, Yorkshire’s best side this year, who beat us 3-2 at Oakwell in August. Indeed, at the final whistle the BBC Sport website – which, for me, is the definitive resource for all football matters – actually had the Pilgrims sat in sixth spot , before a win for Ipswich at Crystal Palace and Burnley’s Andy Cole-inspired comeback at QPR dropped us back down to eighth.

Still, after I’d all but given up on a real run at promotion after the home defeat to Hull a couple of weeks ago, the race is very much back on and I’m chewing away at my green-and-white hat.

Luke McCormick deserves a huge amount of credit for this. Romain Larrieu’s return from injury this season appears to have spurred ‘Super Luke’ on, and, with the Frenchman out of action again, Luke has assumed a commanding status in the Argyle goal. For the first time, as well, McCormick looks the club’s undisputed number one, whoever he is competing with.

The Coventry-born stopper’s lack of height has been a traditional weakness, from the very first time I saw him – away at Tranmere in 2002, when 85 minutes of inspired shot-stopping was undone by two late blunders which gave the home side victory. Under the returning Paul Sturrock, though, McCormick has learned to mask this with aerial confidence and an exemplary all-round game. His kicking has always been long and strong; he thinks quickly and often wins one-on-one contests with opposing attackers.

There were rumours of interest from Middlesbrough in January, but these came to nothing. Luke would probably leave if an offer like this came in, but so would most Championship players. For now he seems content at Home Park, enjoying the lack of national expectation and pressure which goes with a 'bigger' club and quietly guiding his side up the table.

From looking likely to leave the club several times in the last couple of months – first after seeming to back Ian Holloway’s departure in a press statement, and then in the aftermath of an admittedly reasonable declaration that there could only be one first-choice keeper at Argyle – McCormick has established himself as the goalkeeping future at Home Park.

This is arguably less than fair on Larrieu, an Argyle legend and fan favourite, who has been unlucky with injuries. The growth in his abdomen currently keeping the Frenchman out is the latest in a string of problems, with a serious knee injury and a cancer scare forcing lengthy lay-offs while at Home Park. At 31, he is in the prime of his goalkeeping life, and will not want to play second fiddle to his young English rival, but it would be a shame to lose him.

While McCormick kept Barnsley at bay on Tuesday night the other ‘Maccateers’ (and I’m copywriting that phrase, by the way) were making the difference at the other end.
Record-signing Steve McLean’s free-kick gave Argyle a fifth minute lead, and the Scottish striker his first goal in green. The wily forward has been settling well, delighting the Green Army with his cleverness, technique, and reading of the game. But he needed a goal, and while he will never be an arch-poacher like Sylvan Ebanks-Blake, who he replaced in the number nine shirt, his overall qualities are of greater value to the team. McLean reportedly loves his new home, and he could form a great partnership with another new arrival.

Jamie Mackie was not, for Pilgrim fans, initially the most exciting signing in our history. He came from Exeter, a club we treat with withering disdain, and had only bagged 11 goals this season in a league three levels lower than the Championship.

On as a sub for the hard-working, pacy Jermaine Easter, however, and he looked a man possessed. Only eleven seconds had passed when Mackie charged into the box, took a pass from Peter Halmosi and displayed tremendous strength and composure in shrugging off two defenders to score. His second goal was even better, receiving the ball down the right channel, teasing and twisting the defender and smashing home.

It was one of the most inspired and surprising cameos I’ve seen from a player in green. Here is a rough diamond, clearly tremendously talented but also oozing arrogance and self-regard, as his dancing celebration displayed – personal glory is obviously a major priority for the 22-year-old from Dorking. But if he plays like that every week he can have a statue outside the Devonport End for all I care. Mackie’s a showman, a superstar in his own head, and with the potential to become one on the pitch as well. If anyone's going to take over SEB's goalscoring mantle, he has staked a prime claim to be that man. It's a little harsh on Easter, who has performed well for Argyle without getting the breaks, or goals. But Mackie made his own opportunities against Barnsley, and sometime's that's the sign of a great player, as opposed to a good one.

And Paul Wotton’s back! What a week!

Roll on Southampton, and I’m getting a bit excited just at the thought of it.

RICH PARTINGTON

From the rubble comes creation

When the final whistle sounded at Home Park on Saturday afternoon, the Plymouth Argyle players, as usual, applauded the home supporters stacked across three sides of the ground. One player, however, appeared to clap a little harder.

Midway through the second half of the preceding 1-1 draw with Southampton, a long ball down the right channel of Argyle’s half was pursued by a Saints player, in yards of space. Like Mr. Benn’s shopkeeper clad in green, suddenly David Norris was there, sliding full length across the zippy, moist surface to crunch the ball out of play.

The ‘Zoo’ corner of the Lyndhurst Stand were not shy in displaying their appreciation. An ensuing chant of "There’s Only One David Norris" was the loudest noise of an atmospheric afternoon in front of a respectable 14600 souls, quite clearly in response to continuing speculation of the Peterborough-born midfielder’s impending departure.

Rumours abound that Norris handed in a transfer request last week, and Paul Sturrock has failed to confirm or deny this, suggesting the player is almost certainly on his way. Saturday’s opponents have been tracking Norris since before the summer, joined by Norwich, Leicester, and Ipswich. The latter, rolling in Marcus Evans's debt-laden millions, seem favourites to nab him, with a £1.8million bid currently on the table and the club representing a base much nearer to Norris’s roots.

The majority of Pilgrim fans have resigned themselves to the loss of this committed and diligent performer, with his notably fervent applause for the Green Army on Saturday strengthening this assertion – it being viewed as something of a goodbye. Tony Capaldi, Akos Buzsaky, Barry Hayles, and Sylvan Ebanks-Blake, the last four first-team players to leave the club, all reacted similarly in their final games. Slowly, the squad which pushed hard for a top six slot this year – and last – under Ian Holloway is being broken up, and you get the sense that this was a strong social as well as footballing group. Greed, ambition, and club decision-making, in varying degrees of concentration, has pulled them away, yet their time at Argyle was clearly a valued one.

For their part, the Argyle fanbase appears to wish Norris little ill in his probable departure. This may come as a surprise, especially since the Southampton clash also featured an updated version of ‘The Syvlan Ebanks-Blake Song’, the now-Wolves striker gleefully exhorted to "fuck off". This bitterness, however, is more to do with the way SEB left – forcing Argyle into a sale at below market value, and refusing even to countenance the idea of a new contract. Norris, it seems, has been more patient, but perhaps that patience is now wearing thin.

He has been a good servant to the Pilgrims since joining from Bolton in 2002, and is generally considered an absolute Argyle legend. As a player, his finishing and control have sometimes let him down, but his energy is unequalled in my years of watching Plymouth, and his commitment has, until recently, rarely been in doubt. Enthusiasm, ebullience, ingenuity – he might never be Premiership-quality in terms of technique, but he could play there on sheer force of personality.

Price-wise, though, Argyle would be fool to accept £1.8m. Norris is worth a fair bit more than that, and with a number of suitors, a bidding war could increase that price by at least 50%. There is also the added inconvenience of the clause which means Norris's former club, Bolton Wanderers, will receive half of any sell-on fee. If a new, promotion-challenging Sturrock team is to be reconstructed from the rubble of Holloway’s side (although of course Norris was Luggy’s signing) the greens will need to splash the cash.

Friday was a good start, with the capture of Steve McLean from Cardiff for a club-record £500,000 fee. The 25-year-old is fits the two most common criteria of a Sturrock signing; he’s Scottish, like the boss, and they worked together at a previous club, Sheffield Wednesday. It was at Hillsborough McLean enjoyed his most successful years thus far, before a short, injury-plagued spell in Wales this season. In addition to several previous problems, this is a minor worry, but McLean’s performance against the Saints was more encouraging. A thoughtful, elegant player, he showed some nice touches, but could have had a crack at goal a couple of times, and may need to build up his strength and match fitness. He will also take a few games to get used to the nuances of his team-mates’ styles and the manager’s tactics, but if he does there is no reason why he cannot prove to be even better than the man he has replaced in the number nine shirt – Ebanks-Blake.

The Southampton match itself fitted the unfortunately typical formula a great deal of home matches in the past eighteen months, including one just over a year ago against the same opponents, which ended in the same scoreline. Argyle start badly, concede early, and proceed to dominate proceedings from then on, with poor finishing meaning they are only able to score once, if at all. The visitors were poor, a shadow of their former Premiership-fixture selves. But Plymouth could not force the win.

On Saturday it was Rory Fallon who at least prevented a greatly unjust defeat, volleying in from Argyle’s most common source of ammunition – the superlative left foot of Peter Halmosi, who almost effortlessly produced a man-of-the-match performance.

Fallon has been much maligned since his arrival a year ago, without really having a sustained opportunity to prove himself. Against the Saints he was excellent, recalling the half-time draw guest, Mickey Evans, in winning so much in the air and proving a constant menace to the visiting defence. Incredibly, Uriah Rennie did not book the Kiwi despite a string of fouls, each knock further unsettling the Southampton centre-halves. A big-man-little-man partnership appears to be Luggy’s preferred attacking blueprint, and if so Fallon has a real chance of establishing himself alongside, probably, either McLean or Jermaine Easter.

Halmosi, meanwhile, remains the absolute jewel in Argyle’s crown. If Norris leaves, it will be a sad day – he is popular and a talented footballer. But if it is a choice between he and the infinitely more talented Hungarian, I have already made my decision. And so, you feel, has Paul Stapleton.

RICH PARTINGTON