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

Revenge is a dish best served Ready Salted

Leicester City 0, Plymouth Argyle 1. Every time I read it I feel so happy I could cry.

A raucous 1500-strong Green Army pitched up at the Walkers Stadium on Saturday evening, but I’m not ashamed to admit I wasn’t one of them. For one, I’m skint, with my attendance currently restricted to home games I’ve already paid for, and for two, Argyle matches being featured on live television is still such a novelty that I like to enjoy it.

Oddly, my own experience of the Ian Holloway Grudge Match™ was in the University of Huddersfield Student Union’s fairly empty bar with three mates – a Blackpool/Celtic fan, and two girls who tried to be interested, with varying degrees of success.

My ecstatic roar at Peter Halmosi’s 34th-minute winner attracted the attention of the venue’s entire clientele, not particularly difficult when it barely ran into double figures. Indeed, I was the only fan of either team present, unless there were some Foxes supporters keeping very quiet…although who could blame them, considering the way their team was thoroughly embarrassed and outmanoeuvred for the majority of the 90 minutes? The only similar sound I heard during the game was a Ghanaian fan celebrating his team’s success over Ivory Coast in the African Cup of Nations’ Third Place Play-Off, which was being shown on another screen.

Watching the green masses packing the visitor’s section and singing the house down at the ‘Crisp Bowl’, and the way Halmosi tore Lionel Messi-like through incompetent blue foes in an unfamiliar role on the right, it was hard to feel anything but pride for the Pilgrim blood flowing from the arteries.

As already predicted on this blog, the Hungarian international will be almost impossible to keep at Home Park beyond the summer unless Argyle can defy the odds and sneak up to the Premiership through the play-offs. Outside of the big boring four, any side would be lucky to have him, and few would begrudge Halmosi a crack at the top flight, given the commitment and excellence he has shown this season.

Jim Paterson also had a good debut on the left. Jimmy Abdou regained the place in midfield he never should have lost and looked solid, while Paul Sturrock finally bit the bullet and tried Argyle’s best strikers together – record signing Steve McLean and the pacy Jermaine Easter, despite neither being the target man he likes to employ. They looked good, with spark and technique Rory Fallon sadly lacks, and the hope must be that Luggy will attempt to rework his footballing philosophies to suit the attractive, attacking, passing football which seems to best suit the resources he has at his disposal.

Ironically, it was Ian Holloway who introduced this style of play, and bought many of the players now employing it. The pained expressions anointing the Bristolian's cheeks on Saturday, at the various points when the Sky cameras focussed on him, were glorious sites to behold, and while Argyle now lie just two points behind the top six, Ollie’s new charges are only three above the drop zone. After watching their disorientated performance, it wasn’t hard to see why. Steve Howard is still as good in the air as ever, but he was generally well dealt with by cult star Kristian Timar, ably assisted by the increasingly magnificent goalkeeping of Luke McCormick. The best home player was probably Barry Hayles, which, considering he was no longer good enough for the Argyle starting eleven when we sold him in January, says a lot for the gulf between the teams.

Press coverage of this game has focussed strongly on Argyle chairman Paul Stapleton’s war of words with Ollie this week, but for now I’d rather concentrate on the important bit. At Leicester, the men in green put together a performance of almost utter control and dominance, played exciting football, and were multipack value for their win. This is a team with sealed-in freshness. But Leicester are looking a bit Tesco Value.

RICH PARTINGTON

Same old story for Cheltenham

Even having only followed the fortunes, or misfortunes of Cheltenham Town for just over a year, their lack of luck in the transfer market is already starting to get on my nerves. Players reject loan moves due to our obscurity (Phil Jevons), and we also have to contend with Blue Square Premier clubs valuing their players in excess of £250K. Maybe in the case of Forest Green goal machine Stuart Fleetwood, the valuation isn't too excessive but Jamie Mackie? I'd never heard of him until I heard of Cheltenham's interest.

A quick check on Wikipedia told me he'd got three goals since 2005. Thankfully this seems to be wrong information, although in any case, Plymouth Argyle, now with a fresh £1.5M from the sale of Dan Gosling to Everton, have the cash to splash about so £250K will seem like nothing to them. However a move for Bristol City striker Steve Brooker looks to be on the cards, and if he has as much as an affect as Dean Sinclair did, I'll be delighted.

On the football side of things, Cheltenham won a crucial game against bottom club Port Vale 1-0, with Paul Connor getting the goal. Barring a miracle, Vale look doomed, well adrift of 20th place. Cheltenham are still five points behind, with another six pointer against Bournemouth to come on Saturday. Robins fans will be hopeful of a repeat of their last gasp 1-0 win almost a year ago.

The relegation battle looks as intriguing as it did last year, with Luton having been dragged into it by their points deduction, and Bristol Rovers anxiously looking over their shoulders. Statistically speaking, Cheltenham are in almost exactly the same position as they were last season, which should serve to encourage, as they ended up surviving quite comfortably last time around.

Meanwhile, chairman Paul Baker has put forward plans to either expand Whaddon Road, or move stadiums. While Whaddon Road is a lovely, old-fashioned, typical lower league football ground, most people (especially away fans) will admit that its location is obscure to say the least. If I didn't live a stone's throw away I'd struggle to find it without a very good map.
So apart from the lack of luck in the transfer window, things seem to be looking up for the Robins.

JAMES LEWIS