As we all know, you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs. And although it's fair to say that last night we crashed the lorry from the egg farm over the side of a bridge (a really high bridge, with concrete underneath), we learnt much in the process. If we use the information we gleaned, REALLY use it, we may even end up thinking that being beaten up by Accy last night was a blessing in disguise.
"OK then silly Bollocks, what did we learn?" I hear you ask. Well let's look at it, and if you endulge me I'm going to break with what has become tradition at our club and not talk about the defence first. See, if we don't have a shot in games we always talk about the "great clean sheet" and how "solid" we were. So it seems to me to be only fair that on the occasion we were very "un" solid and have a sheet so embarrassingly dirty we'll probably have to wait until everyone's out before washing it ourselves, it's best we talk about the attack.
So here goes. For twenty five minutes of the second half that was the most exilerating and penetrative attacking display I've seen from us all season. Throwing caution to the wind (you do that when you're 3-0 down) we tore into our opponents. Gone was the obsession with shape, structure (and another word starting with "S" which would make the sentence really impressive but which I unfortunately can't think of), we just went for it. Suddenly Hus Biler was checking back & sprinting sideways like one of those Madagascarn crabs dodging the waves and hungry Seahawks. Jack Currie was bulldozing his way forward, smashing through people like a drunken student trying to rush the door at Glasto. Ali Al-Hamidi's boots flared an angry orange while he bristled with anger, and meanwhile Omar Bugiel was doing a one man tear up with a hundred MK fans in a backstreet Kebab shop, in an ugly, concrete backstreet.
The centre halves went up for set pieces and stayed in there. No more retreating the minute it looked like it might be cleared, they blocked and spoiled and kept it alive. Accrington barely got out of their half, we suffocated them with will and intent, it was a beautiful moment. And the ground rocked, they hung from the barriers and ripped their shirts off to twirl around their heads as they bayed for blood (or at least the old ladies in block 108 of the West Stand did anyway). THAT was Plough Lane at its finest, THAT'S how we should play. We almost got pinged on the break a couple of times and it was chaotic but so what? We love a bit of chaos.
At the other end? Sheesh were all over the place. Conceded four and it could've been eight. Bad day at the office. Even good players have bad days, and we have some REALLY good players in defence. No damage done, we lost one, it happens, we move on.
That attacking though....
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