The match ended around 4:30 p.m. local time, so I’ve had all day and night to stew about it.
Depression? Yeah, it’s definitely set in, but some somewhat rational thoughts:
- Frankly, given the sheer amount of injuries we had, it’s amazing we got as far as we did. Some of the XI’s Leeds put out there in the last two months of the season were frightfully thin and/or inexperienced. I hoped in my heart it could be overcome, but my brain knew it was unlikely.
- I very, very rarely put a match down to officiating, I think that’s generally a weak excuse and I don’t think Leeds collapse was totally on him either, but some of his decisions were shocking. Bamford, epic craphouse though he has been (I will say in his defense, I have to wonder if he was ever close to 100 percent injury-wise), should have had a penalty in place of his yellow. Berardi situation as many have mentioned.
Though it likely wouldn’t have mattered, I was irate when he whistled the match complete. I’m thinking at the time when Derby was time-wasting with their substitution that, most of the time, that gambit doesn’t work and the official usually adds the propee amount of time back. Match should have gone to seven minutes, but he is the one fucker who calls it over at six.
- i love our possession, but I think - and this is magnified by not having an assassin finisher - we do get a bit too enamored with it and try to create goals through it exclusively and to our detriment. When you do see us have a pop at the goal from outside the area, it’s usually at the end of a buildup or after a rebound. That’s not uncommon for any team, but it seems especially so for us. I wouldn’t mind seeing a few pops at goal in the midst of the buildup. Pablo was doing this when he was fit, but he ran out of gas. Some proper transfers/loan signings are needed to diversify the manner of attack as many have said.
- I don’t understand our philosophy on corners. I know we don’t have a target man in the box, but in the matches I saw, it seemed we either played them deep or line-drived them to the nearest part of the six-foot box and just kind of hoped. For all of the possession we have, and for all of the chances and corners it creates, we need to do far better at taking advantage. Again, see transfers/loan signings.
- Fuck Frank Lampard with the third base he was born on thinking he hit a triple. That showboating bullshit after the match chaffes my ass, the opposite of Bielsa’s class. Usually can’t stand Villa, and have not actually minded Derby for the most part over the years, but I hope his squad gets tarred-and-feathered at Wembley. (Plus, I’d rather have Derby in the division than Villa. Theoretically easier marks.)
- Watching the match, I’m convinced the late Lemmy from Motorhead is Scott Malone’s father. Conceived him on one of their tours.
Add one likely irrational point I’ll likely regret writing:
- I am usually the opposite of the tinfoil hat wearing conspiracist. Generally, I think that kind of talk is, at best, silly, and at worst, the shttiest kind of excuse making to cover up for your own defieciencies.
So keep that in mind as I make this admittedly irrational and non-provable point. Kiko was so scandalously poor in his decision-making, his Rene Higuita-style moronic adventures out of the box, the horrific angles he played on Derby’s sorties into the area and the high risks he took inside the area that didn’t result in goals, but could have.
(Kiko lucked out shortly before Derby’s winner when he happened to come up with that lofted ball into the box out he knew little about it. In the scramble he created by coming out, I thought Derby had a penalty case when one of their players was pulled down.)
By halftime, after that epic goatfuck of a first goal for Derby, one thought entered my mind regarding Kiko.
I hope I don’t read someday that this match was part of some match-fixing scandal.
I know, I know, I hate writing that. I feel like an ass for even suggesting such an assertion, but Kiko was so God damningly awful, it crossed my mind that no one of his alleged caliber can be so terrible on even their worst day. There had to be a bigger reason ... even if I know there probably isn’t and it’s just the football gods flogging their favorite whipping boy Leeds.
Oh well. Off to a likely sleepless night over here. Someday I will lift a drink with some of you in celebration, I hope in-person, but if not, then in spirit. That’s if the hope doesn’t kill me first. Wouldn’t want to hope with a better group of fans, even the ones here I fight with. Cheers to you all.
"If you sell the refrigerator to buy the beer, where the fuck do you put the beer?"
"My only weapon is my pen ... and the state of mind I’m in.”