Dave’s Ramblings – Paris Saint-Germain

I’m going to start by stating the blindingly obvious. Whatever we might think about Sanchez, Jörgensen is not the answer. At this point I’m not even convinced he’s the question. He might be a crossword clue someone accidentally filled in with the wrong pen.

 

The warning signs were there within four minutes when we generously attempted to donate a goal to them like we were running some sort of charitable foundation for struggling strikers. Goals without borders.

 

Playing out from the back might be a thing for some teams, teams with composure, awareness, and a goalkeeper who doesn’t look like he’s trying to defuse a bomb every time the ball arrives at his feet. Unfortunately, we appear to be attempting it with players who treat the ball like it’s a live grenade and the pin just fell out.

 

And the keeper… what can I say that doesn’t involve a lot of Anglo-Saxon. Every pass from him has the calm, reassuring energy of someone parallel parking a bus while blindfolded.

 

If the plan is to keep doing this, we might as well skip the middleman and just start the match by handing the opposition a goal and a cup of tea. It would save everyone a lot of time.

 

The question remains: how many times do we have to generously hand the ball, chances, and goals to the opposition before someone realises we simply cannot play this way?

 

At this point it’s less playing out from the back and more running a full service distribution centre for the other team. If generosity won trophies we’d already have the league wrapped up.

 

Surely there must be a limit. There has to be a meeting at some point where someone says, “You know what lads… perhaps repeatedly gifting the ball to people who are actively trying to score against us isn’t the master plan we thought it was.”

 

Right now it feels like we’re conducting a very thorough scientific experiment: What happens if we keep doing the exact same disastrous thing every week?

 

So far the results are in, and surprisingly, it turns out it’s still a terrible idea.

 

At 2–2 I genuinely thought we were the better team and looked the most likely to go on and win the tie. Momentum was with us, confidence was growing, and for a brief, beautiful moment football actually made sense.

 

That was right up until the keeper decided to play a perfectly weighted through-ball… directly to a PSG player.

 

Not near him. Not in the general vicinity. No, this was a laser-guided assist, the sort of pass you’d be proud of if you were actually playing for PSG.

 

They scored, obviously, and just like that the entire match was thrown away. It was less losing control of the game and more politely handing them the keys and asking if they’d like anything from the fridge while they’re here.

 

Two things I do have to comment on.

 

First, Jörgensen refused to come over and acknowledge the fans. I get that he might have been upset, we all were. But I can assure him that whatever he was feeling was probably only about 5% of what the away end was experiencing.

 

Maybe he was worried about the reception. Maybe he thought it might be a bit frosty. But refusing to come over doesn’t exactly help his case. In fact it kind of says more about him than it ever does about us. Fans travel thousands of miles, spend a small fortune, watch that performance… and the least you can do is wander over, clap a bit, and pretend you’re sorry.

 

We weren’t expecting a speech. Just a brief appearance would’ve done, like a rare wildlife sighting. “And here we see the elusive goalkeeper, cautiously approaching the away end…”

 

The other thing that really bugged me was Liam’s substitutions. Delap and Lavia. Really?

 

I’m not saying they’re bad players, but in that moment it felt a bit like your house is on fire and someone turns up with a watering can.

 

And then there’s Alejandro Garnacho, our best player over the last two games, coming on two minutes from the end of normal time.

 

Two minutes.

 

That gave him plenty of time to influence the outcome. Maybe score a hat-trick, assist two more, cure world hunger and still have time for a quick jog back to the halfway line.

 

Honestly, by the time he’d finished tying his boots the referee was already checking his watch. 

 

My takeaways…

 

I have, against all known laws of pessimism, actually managed to find a couple of positives. I know, please remain calm. No sudden movements. Someone alert the scientists.

 

Yes, it’s true. Positives. Plural.

 

Go ahead, steady yourselves. Maybe sit down if you’re holding anything fragile. Let the heavens crack open the confetti cannons and celebrate like it’s 1999. Prince is playing, doves are crying, and somewhere a motivational poster just started to make sense.

 

Frankly, I’m as shocked as you are. I checked twice to make sure I hadn’t accidentally wandered into someone else’s personality. But no… there they were. Positives. Just sitting there. Existing.

 

I’m still not entirely sure how they got in, but at this point I’m choosing not to ask questions and simply enjoy the historic moment. 

 

First off, trips to France haven’t always seen us welcomed with open arms. In the past it’s usually been more like open shields, batons, and what appear to be either Robocops or members of the Thunderbirds rescue team masquerading as police.

 

But today was different. Pre-match the stewards were friendly, the police were low-key, and everything felt… dare I say it… civilised. After the match we had the traditional and entirely unnecessary hold-back, but it only lasted about 30 minutes, which by previous standards is practically express service.

 

The police remained friendly as well. I suspect they were either delighted with the overtime pay or simply too tired to threaten us like they have on previous trips. Possibly both.

 

As for the football… at 4–2 I said to a friend that we were probably out. At 5–2 I was fairly confident the fat lady had cleared her throat, done her vocal warm-ups, and was halfway through the first verse.

 

However, as another friend wisely said while we were leaving the stadium, we now have the opportunity to stage one of the greatest comebacks of all time.

 

I know, I know. It’s unlikely, slightly foolish, and perhaps just a little bit unhinged.

 

But never say never.

 

Stranger things have happened at sea… and frankly, our defending has already looked a lot like we’re playing underwater.

 

Photos of the game can be found by clicking https://www.flickr.com/gp/jtba/8B6229RjN7

 

Onwards and upwards. UTC 💙