24th May 2015…..
It was a beautiful sunny afternoon. Over 25,000 Stokies had just witnessed one of the greatest Stoke City displays of our lifetime. Five-nil up at half-time to the mighty Liverpool in their greatest ever player’s last game. Okay, so that Brendan Rodgers ‘vintage’ wasn’t particularly brilliant, but they were easily good enough to beat us., and for many a Stokie this was payback for all the trouncings that we had witnessed first hand from The Reds.
“Can I just say thank you, lads, for one of the greatest days of my lifetime watching Stoke”.
I was talking to Mark Hughes and Mark Bowen about an hour after the final whistle had blown. Yes, it was a bit cheesy, but it was the truth. We were the talk of football that night. Pictures of Steve Gerrard with a smacked-arse of a face at half and full time set against the backdrop of the scoreboard were everywhere. He fittingly scored on his last performance in a Liverpool shirt, but it was more fitting on the day that Peter Crouch had ensured that we had the last word on such a memorable day that we had bossed.
Fast-forward two and a half years……….
In fairness, two and a half years is a very long time in football. Indeed, if you’re a Crystal Palace manager then it can seem an actual lifetime. And in double fairness, I don’t think anyone could really expect us to massively improve on what we were in May 2015. We had a cracking team, and we had the sight of an injured Bojan grinning ear-to-ear with Messrs N’Zonzi and Arnautovic at the end of that game as the players were thrown scarves, love and plaudits galore as they did the yearly lap of hour. We were ready to be a force in English football.
Fast-forward again……this time to our last lap of honour, against Arsenal in May 2017……..
We’ve gone from a team on the edge of Europe and great things to one of the edge of relegation, and one that receives absolute beatings on a regular basis. We’ve gone from a team just one or two players away from possible silverware to one that if you take Messrs Butland and Shaqiri out of it would struggle to finish top half of The Championship if that league is, as they say, based on doggedness and sheer bloody mindedness.
Frightening, isn’t it? So, has been 25,000 staying behind to applaud the team on the last day to a couple of thousand.
But let’s forget the manager for a minute – and quite a few are trying to. This is the state of play: Stoke City Football Club simply can’t afford to be relegated. We’ve just spent umpteen million quid on ground developments, and just spent a decade in the Premier League. And never mind as a football club, our city needs a team in the top league, too. Apparently, around 150 Sunderland employees lost their job at the end of the season, and you can add onto that millions lost in sponsorship, TV deals, tickets and merchandise revenue etc – and it would also be worrying times for our Cat 1 academy, too, if we went down.
No, at the heart of all of what’s going on, we do feel that as supporters we have a duty to support the team as we simply can’t go down – and isn’t that what supporters do anyway? Supporting Stoke City isn’t a lifestyle choice. Indeed, it shouldn’t be a choice. No Stokie should ever want us to lose to sate their manager-sacking appetite. Because we have to stay in this league.
Hey, don’t get me wrong, if we go down I’ll still be here – and so will countless others. There are any number of cracking aways in The Championship (albeit more expensive, ticket-wise!) and more local rivalries, too. But I couldn’t see our current squad returning to the top league the following season, I really couldn’t.
So, we need to keep getting behind the stripes. Indeed, we need to do so more than ever. Isn’t it easy to support in the good times? We find out about ourselves in life when we face tough situations. Let’s tuck our chins into our big coats and get belting out our choruses in homage to the lads.
“Happy clapping, *******!”, I hear you say. Far from it. Please read on……
No-one is happy with what’s happening on the pitch at Stoke at the minute. Indeed, you can trace it back over the long rather than short term. And once again, Liverpool feature.
We knew that all that Stokealona garbage wouldn’t last. Massively cringey. But Christ, it was bloody good whilst it did! We were always going to get figured out, and Liverpool did it by pressing our back four in the League Cup semi final first leg at our place. But before that night we’d gone to The Hawthorns with it seemingly obvious what kind of game it would be and which of our players seemed to need a rest. We ran into a Tony Pulis ‘masterclass’ and we started the new year on a negative. A few days later we met Liverpool, and our false nine blueprint was in tatters. After ten minutes it was obvious we had to change the personnel and shape, but we didn’t. Indeed, we were lucky to get a 0-1 if truth be told.
Saying that, we were bloody unlucky to not go through to the Final after a superb showing at Anfield in the return leg. Indeed, we were the width of a post from doing so. The sight of a distraught Muni on the pitch being consoled and serenaded by 5000 Stokies was one I won’t forget in a hurry, and that night hit us and the squad hard.
But was there any need to almost totally go against what we had built up over Sparky’s first two seasons in charge almost overnight?
As a support we were flattened by that night at Anfield. It knocked us for six, so heaven knows what it did to the lads in the stripes. Those final few months of the season were understandably solemn ones. Wounds were licked but we unbelievably limped to 9th place, as we leaked at least 3 goals in a game five times after that Anfield penalty shoot-out heartache. A portent of things to come.
That’s when we needed to stick to our guns and go again.
What we got was a start to the following season that saw us win not one of our first seven games, finally getting three points against the relegation fodder that was Sunderland, and being kept off the bottom three by Derby’s reserve team keeper. The writing on the wall from the previous Spring was now more prominent. It’s now written in IMPACT font, in block capitals, in marker pen, and fills the page.
I’m not one for data and stats. I tend to rely on my own eyes, common sense and experience of watching and playing football for my context. But have a look at some of the info below. Most are based on defensive stats – because isn’t that the first port of call when things are going badly?
There are a number of other criticisms that can be levelled at the management, too, but my fingers are hurting. As is my head and heart.
Hughes out? That’s not for me to say. I have my own views, but I’m mindful as co-editor of a magazine that my view may not be that of others. I don’t represent anyone else and respect everyone’s opinion. I can categorically say though that I want the current malaise turning around. I have severe doubts that the current manager can do that, but I hope he does, and I still feel that the powers that be will give him some more time. I also hate it, and my stomach churns, when a manager’s head is called for. It means we’re doing badly. That’s never good.
I’m all for loyalty, and I detest the drive-thru mentality of modern football, but I also realise that at most other clubs the bullet would have been fired long before now. Some say it’s a gamble to get rid mid-season, but when does it become a bigger gamble to stick with the hand you’ve got?
All I want is for a manager to right obvious wrongs. The figures show that this hasn’t been addressed, has it?
All I want is for a manager to make the best of what he has available. Again, should a squad with several Champions League winners and many internationals be so beige and rudderless?
All I want is for Stoke City to have an identity on the pitch, and to show it matters. I expect the odd hammering – it’s an unforgiving league. But 18 in just over two seasons, and players coming out and questioning desire and effort of others?
And the players don’t get away scot-free in all of this. I don’t care if players don’t play for the manager – play for us bloody lot, then! Those 3000+ who spent a good proportion of their wages journeying through dreadful winter weather to watch another capitulation. Give it your best for them lads, and if a really good team beats you 5-1 then we can accept that. Hardly putting a tackle in we can’t, and won’t.
“Be grateful for what you’ve got”, other supporters say about us. Shut up and mind your own bloody business, folks, ta. Our club is nowt to do with you, and you don’t spend your hard-earned following Stoke. I have no interest in the plight of other clubs, absolutely none. Why? Because I don’t support them. I support Stoke City FC. That’s why I’ll be singing my heart out at Turf Moor tomorrow night in sub-zero temperatures along with 1300 or so others.
I want my club and team to be as good as it can be. Three top half finishes showed that it could be done, so why can’t we aspire for 8th place and a cup run? Failing that, just doing our level best is always good enough.
I don’t expect us to win games. I never have, or will. We are Stoke City, after all. I just want us to give it a go and to make the best of what we have. I’ve seen countless average-to-useless managers and the off cracking one. I’ve seen relegations, promotions, and countless false dawns. I’ve never shouted for a manager’s head purely because it’s nowt I can ever control – and I also hate anyone losing their job, I really do. But gone are the days when I want my club and city to settle for average or satisfactory. Our last ten years and recent City of Culture bid has shown us that we should be blowing our own trumpets. No-one wants Stoke City to win at Burnley tomorrow more than me. But I’m also a realist and I’m not totally tick, either.
Mark Hughes has given us some great times. That’s only fair and right to say and I am grateful for those days and nights we’ve witnessed. But we’re talking mainly past history here – and unless we find the plot we’ve so evidently and obviously lost, history is what he and we’ll be.
I was football mad. I played for my school and then represented the City of Stoke-on-Trent team along with Bill Bentley, and we won the National Schools Final at the Victoria Ground in 1963. Quite a few lads from that team made it, but I wasn’t taken on straight away by Stoke. I was offered terms by Spurs and Portsmouth, but I was a Stoke lad and didn’t want to leave the city.
Alan Bloor grew up a few streets away from me, but I didn’t know him too well as he was a few years older than me. ‘Bluto’ and me had a great partnership. I attaked every ball in the air and if they got past me then Bluto would sort them out! We got on really well, and talked a lot during games. Indeed, we often talked centre forwards out of the game!
I was eventually taken on when I was 18 years old at Stoke. My first wage was just £12 a week!
Who were your big mates at Stoke?
I wasn’t really a drinker, and didn’t socialise too much. I always thought I work with and see you lot all week anyway, so if I did go out I went out with mates who weren’t at the club.
For away trips I tended to room with Jackie Marsh, and then for some reason always seemed to room with goalkeepers, such as Roger Jones and Shilts.
The biggest day of your career – the League Cup Final?
Definitely. Many say that Wembley passes you by, but not me. I remembered everything, especially the sea of red and white as we came out of the tunnel.
Most folk had us down as underdogs that day, but not us. Indeed, we fully expected to win. We were a really good team , playing well and we played reasonably well on the day. I wasn’t nervous: the big games suited me and the only nerves I had were during Mike Bernard’s back pass! The one surprise was that we didn’t go back to Wembley more often with such a cracking side.
A great story from the final was Jackie Marsh losing his contact lense, which he did regularly. Chelsea had a corner, and I heard Jackie shout, “Oi, Den”. I replied, “What Jackie, I have my man, mark yer own”. He replied, “But Den, I conna bloody see a thing as I’ve lost a contact lense”.
So there he was: the middle of a League Cup final, on his hands and knees in the penalty box, looking for a contact lense!
So Europe, and the mighty Ajax. They wanted to sign you, didn’t they?
Yeah, we drew the first leg at Stoke 1-1. I scored from three yards and Rudi Krol from about thirty three yards. We played brilliantly in Amsterdam: I got a nasty gash on my shin but carried on playing and we should have scored in the last minute. We deserved to win.
Apparently, Ajax wanted to sign me, and so did Manchester United and Leeds United around that time, too, but I loved it at Stoke. That night the players went out on the town in Amsterdam with Brian Clough, but I was feeling so low that I didn’t bother.
When you look around at football in 2014 does it make you wish you played in this era, with all the riches around?
No, not at all. You can’t pick and choose when you play and you simply have to enjoy the period when you are fortunate enough to make a living playing football. I wasn’t badly paid, and if I had gone Ajax I would have made a lot more, but I loved my playing career and it’s not abput making money, it’s about playing football. I was simply delighted to play for the club I loved.
….so I bet you’d love to see a local lad in this current Stoke team? Well, we have Wilko and Shotts in the squad, so that isn’t bad. There’s nothing better than seeing a Stoke lad playing for Stoke, but football has changed and it is a huge step up from youth football to the first team.
You always champion the city of Stoke-on-Trent. How would you improve it? Well, I would make the town of Stoke the city centre. We have the football club, train station and civic centre there. How difficult is it to explain to people from outside the area that Stoke actually isn’t the city centre, but Hanley is? It drives me mad!
There are some beautiful areas in the city, plus some lovely places just outside it. We are very fortunate in that Stoke is so central and is in such a great position in the country. Shouldn’t more be made of that? I have sons living in Oxford and York, and I can get to them in a few hours, have lunch with them, and get back the same day.
Talking of your kids, did you want them to go into football? My two lads have played semi-pro to a good standard. Like I said before, one lives in York and one in Oxford, plus my daughter is down in Cornwall. All are happy, and that’s all that matters to me.
Right, let’s talk injuries. The plethora of broken bones, operations and stitches that you suffered as a player – do they affect you now?
Ha, ha. Yes, I suffer from metal fatigue as I have plates all over my body, from my neck down to my ankles! It’s part of being a professional footballer. I think I had 24 or 25 broken bones and over 200 stitches in my face – they didn’t improve it though! I remember one period, I fractured my ankle and it was put in plaster. I had the plaster on all week until the next game and then it was taken off so that I could play. I’d have an injection, play, and then back on went the plaster.
Once, I had done my back in and we were due to play a huge cup game against Man United. I wasn’t playing, but the missus drove me to the ground to watch. As she dropped me off, I got out of the car and the back clicked back into place! I told Waddo that I was a bit better, did a couple of step ups, played, and scored!
Geoff Hurst famously said that he signed for us as he was fed up of being kicked up in the air by you!
Ha, ha. It’s funny that I was attacked at Upton Park once. I had treated Geoff like a crash barrier all game to be honest, and as I was coming off at the end some woman started whacking me on the head with an umbrella!
Disappointed that you never played for England?
At the time, Roy Mcfarland was a great centre half. He was a good footballer, but I was a lot better on the ball than many people made out.I was just a bit unlucky as I got in squads and got injured. I did my knee in 1975 and was never as quick again. There’s a lot of luck involved in sport.
Many folk will have forgotten the longevity of your managerial career too….almost 1200 games?
Yeah, I really enjoyed it. Had some great times, especially at York and Sunderland. The Sunderland people were great; very similar types of people to us Stokies. Very loyal, passionate, and always wanted to talk football. I think they saw that I was the same. I had great times there, but you always will when you are successful and have a great affinity with the fans.
What were your best attributes as a manager?
I’m an honest and straightforward person. There’s never been any hidden agendas with me, and the players always knew where they stood. This might have put off a number of chairman I suppose, but that’s just the way I am.
Some players make good coaches and some make good managers. I think I can spot which will do well and which won’t. I did fall out of love a bit with coaching to be honest, and quickly knew I’d be a manager. I didn’t agree with some of the coaching methods being used at the time: as Waddo used to say, “If you can’t pass and control it, you can’t play”.
Management is a lonely place at times, as many folk think they know better than you do. The best advice I ever had was from Waddo: “Just make sure you sign good players”.
You signed Andy Cole, and he credits you with really kickstarting his career…
Yes, I signed him from Arsenal. It was seen as a gamble, but when I spoke to him he told me that he thought he deserved a chance in the Arsenal first team. Well, if he felt he was good enough to play in the Arsenal team then I felt it wouldn’t be too big a gamble to take him to Bristol City.
Cole wanted to come short and link play, but I told him to simply play on the shoulder of the last man and score goals. He certainly did that, didn’t he?
Who is the best player you have ever worked with? It must be Banksy. He was the best in the world in his position. Outfield players must include Huddy, an amazing player. He was very one-footed but could do nore with one foot than most others could with two. Considering the way he lived he was an incredible athlete.
Best player you’ve played against? George Best. He could go inside or outside you, was strong and quick, and had amazing skill. I just aimed at his chest and hoped for the best, ha, ha.
And the toughest?
Big Joe Royle was always a handful. Also, Frank Worthington was a brave lad, too. I would clatter him, but he’d the try to show you up later. Mick Jones at Leeds was a hard player. They liked a tackle, Leeds. The likes of Bremner, Charlton and Hunter were hard but fair.
Any regrets on your football career?
No, none at all
Not managing Stoke?
No. It was an unbelievably hard decision, but I listened to my wife. She was right. Kate didn’t want it to go wrong as that would hurt me more than anything.
Take the city’s bid to become the UK City of Culture 2021, for example……
Whilst recently we saw a report stating rather brilliantly how much a successful Stoke City FC had done for the local area and local economy, shouldn’t it be on every single Potteries’ agenda to push our beloved city’s bid for cultural success? The city was shortlisted for the title in July, and the final bid was sent off to government on 29th September. Indeed, the bid was launched (literally) via a duck that was shot 20 miles straight up into the atmosphere!
The submission was accompanied by the city’s distinctive bid logo and the SOT duck videoed and photographed against the incredible backdrop of the planet and thin blue line separating earth’s atmosphere from the blackness of space. We did offer to send Orfy instead of the duck (as he does look a little alien-like), but the powers-that-be weren’t having it!
The bid for UK City of Culture status isn’t something that just happened by chance. Nor did the final submission come down to the work of one person. This is a city-wide submission, and is the culmination of months and months of hard work. It has been driven by Paul Williams – a Scouser by birth, but more than a honorary Stokie in this day-and-age, and a man who loves his football, loves this city, and has an amazing energy for pushing this city forward. I’ve met him a number of times, and you can’t help but be impressed by the bloke.
The bid is for us all. Every single one of us. To see the impact and benefits of actually winning the title, just take a peek up the M6/M62 towards Hull, where we’ve seen the following figures bandied about…..
– 9/10 residents have attended or experienced a cultural event or activity since it claimed the title
– recent months have seen more than 1.4 million visits to cultural events, exhibitions or activities in Hull
– a 14% increase in hotel occupancy.
– at least 450 events, exhibitions and cultural activities taking place during the first season, which attracted over 1.4 million visits
– there’s been a huge, positive feelgood-factor amongst the people in Hull since they won their bid
This is a chance to show everyone what this city is about and it’s a chance to ensure our city – one that has made very positive progress in recent times – is one that reaches its full potential.
Cities aren’t about buildings. They’re all about the people who live in them. We’ll never be a Chester, a Bath, or a York, but there’s no need to be – we’re a Stoke-on-Trent. And we’re a city that has the friendliest, most down-to earth folk in the UK. We should be singing what we have got from the rooftops, and not hiding it under a bushel/kiln, as we always have done. Creatively, the city has boomed in the last few years, with any number of start-ups and people getting off backsides and having a go. This, all on the back of a resurgent pottery industry, means it really is our time.
We are also in a brilliant logistical position, with any number of airports, motorways, and major railway stations within easy reach. We also have a depth of cultural heritage and history – but it’s about time this city started making more history, for future generations of Stokies to wax lyrical about.
It doesn’t matter who you are, what you do, or what football team you support. The bid has had the relentless backing of community, resident and art groups; businesses; education establishments etc…..as well as the support of many partners throughout the region and beyond. And we’re proud that Duck has been on board since day one, too. We see what it can, and will do, for Stoke-on-Trent.
For too long we were the ‘Sick city’; for too long we were the butt of jokes from the ignorant and clueless. But when the likes of TV’s Clare Balding walks the streets of this city and then plasters positivity all over social media (when she had no reason to do so), then as Bob Dylan said, “The times are a changin”.
And every one of us can influence that change in our own small way. Just get behind the bid. Do what you can, when you can. Share information with others – both inside and outside the city; join the thousands who back the bid on social media (just search for sot2021 and don’t forget to use #sot2021). Tell @DCMS on Twitter just why Stoke-on-Trent is ace!
Our city has so much to offer, and winning this would create a massive boost for the entire region, plus it would also give people in Northern Ireland, Scotland, Wales and beyond the chance to share in the culture and heritage of Stoke-on-Trent on a national stage.
Sorry that this isn’t a football-based editorial. In fact, no, we’re not sorry at all! As proud Stokies and editors of this humble magazine we can never influence how our team doe: But we’d love to influence everyone reading this to back the bid. And come decision-day in December, we pray we get the chance as a city to sing……“UK City of Culture, we know what we are/we won it one time!”
To the people responsible for making the decision. we say choose wisely – you have the power to change our city forever. It’s s city that is eager to change; we’re a people that deserve change.
BOJAN AND MUNIESA ON – LIFE GROWNG UP IN CATALONIA
BK: I grew up in Linyola. It’s got a small population and my family are from that town. My mother’s from there and it’s my best place, my favourite place. My family still live there, although I don’t have any brothers or sisters. It’s about an hour from Barcelona. I love it there.
MM: I was a quiet boy. It’s great to go back. I really started getting into football when I was about four years old and I eventually signed for Barcelona when I was nine. My father was a professional footballer – I watched a few games, but not many. He played in my position; he was a number 10.
I was born in Barcelona, but on my second day we were in Lloret De Mar. It’s by the sea, a popular seaside resort, and in the summer thousands go there on holiday. I don’t have a sister but I have a younger brother who is nineteen years old – he plays football too, as a hobby with his mates. My parents both work in hotels – different hotels – because Lloret De Mar is a tourist kind of place, and in the summer we get something like 300,000 tourists, so they’re really busy. Mainly from Britain, Germany, Italy…..
As a kid I was polite and I liked to study and play sports. I’m still studying at the minute (Business Management).
(To Bojan) I heard you were a good musician when you were younger?
BK: laughs) Yes, I enjoyed playing the violin when I was young, and I love music. I would like to get back to playing music one day.
BOJAN AND MUNIESA ON – BEING SPOTTED AS KIDS
BK: I was playing in a tournament in France. It’s an international tournament and there were lots of scouts there. They (Barcelona) saw me and liked me. A lot of teams had scouts there, but I signed for Barcelona, the team I loved. It was a dream.
So I went to La Masia (La Masia de Can Planes, usually shortened to La Masia) the Barcelona training ground at the age of 9. For the first three years I was travelling from home, but when I was 12 I moved there to live there with my grandparents where we lived in a flat. In the morning I’d take a bus to school and spend all morning there.
MM: My father and my grandfather are massive Barcelona supporters and they went to watch games, they had club cards. I used to go to watch Barcelona with them. I started playing football with my father outside, and at five years old I started to play in the village team.
Barcelona came to see another lad playing who was a couple of years older than me. They saw me and they ended up taking both of us to train with them. I would have been eight or nine years old at the time – he was about eleven. I was lucky and he was unlucky I suppose as they kept me but didn’t keep him.
BOJAN AND MUNIESA ON – LA MASIA
BK: Well, everyone has different ways of coaching kids and what they believe in. I think that Barcelona’s is the best academy because they put your schooling first and after that its football. I like the idea of that. School is very important as it’s everything when you are a youngster growing up.
Barcelona like to have that education philosophy and mentality in their football. But when we trained it was almost always with a ball.
MM: I had a leg injury and had around a year off football, but when I was ten I started playing for Barcleona regularly. I lived at home until I was 16. My mum or dad drove me three days a week to training. Unlike Bojan, I studied at home in Lloret. It was really difficult as every training day I’d end up doing my homework in the car, having dinner in the car…….I’d get back about 11pm, absolutely shattered. At 16, I moved to Barcelona, La Masia.
Yes, everything was with the ball. Everything. I didn’t touch the gym until I was 17/18 years old. Sometimes you hear about kids of 10 or 11 doing gym work or just running. Not at Barcelona – we had the ball all the time and it’s a concept they have there that has done well for them.
When I signed for Barca I was a left winger. When I was 11 I moved back into midfield, and then a year later I was in the defence. A lot of people at Barcelona start in the attack and then they move them around. They like players being used to different positions on the pitch. I was used as a centre back and then also as a left back. I started playing in the Barcelona Under 19’s and played really well. I love Barcelona and I knew other teams were interested at the time but….(shrugs shoulders and laughs), I love Barcelona.
BOJAN AND MUNIESA ON – CRUCIATE INJURIES
BK: Yes. I knew that something strange had happened straight away and that it wasn’t nice. I was running and my studs stuck in the turf, it was just a complete accident. Things can happen like that as we play football. It was a complete accident. I now feel strong and good.
I felt a lot of emotions at that time. You always have doubts, but for me the key is to think if you have a doubt then you have ten positive thoughts to make up for it on the same day. I looked at the injury as though your leg is just a small part of your body, and I was very positive. Recovery is about your body and mind. It’s hard when you have an injury but that’s football and that’s life. I am a positive person.
So I went back to Catalonia. It was very nice and important for me to go back home to recover. It was hard to move away from the team and the club, but I had to as I felt that it’s so important to get your mind totally right and focussed, without distractions. For that, you have to be around family and friends. The sun also makes a difference too, ha, ha!
It was my idea to put videos of my recovery on social media as we as footballers are important to our fans. But not only when it’s going well and you are in a good way – it’s easy then – but more so when it’s hard. I worked really long hours to get back to good health and get my leg strong, and I even wrote a daily diary, but it was worth it!
I wanted to show my fans that ‘ok, this hard, but I am going to come back stronger and I am doing my very best to do so’. I feel they have the right to see how I am doing and they liked doing so. I’m not at 100% yet but I am working hard towards that goal. It’s was a long time that I was out of football, but I am working so hard to be at my very best. I need games to get that fitness, plus training of course – but I am very happy with how it’s going.
MM: I have done both legs! I had a knee injury when I was 20 (in a pre-season friendly against Hamburg, he suffered a ruptured anterior cruciate ligament), and when I came back I was playing with the second team. I was 21 and thought it was time to leave and get regular first team football.
I had already torn my other leg’s ligaments when I was 16, so I have done both legs! The second time I knew I had done it, the first time I didn’t. After the second one, I saw my family suffering and crying; far more than me, so I just had to be strong. It made me stronger, and I wanted to get back to playing again and make them happy again.
BOJAN AND MUNIESA ON – STOKE CITY
BK: I knew Stoke were a Premier League club and had played many years in that league. I knew Stoke City has a lot of history, too. I knew of the reputation they had before I came and some people said to me ‘look at their reputation’ – but I knew Mark Hughes was the manager and I replied to them that if Mark Hughes wanted me then I know he wants to play in a certain style.
Mark Hughes was hugely important in getting me to Stoke. He’s the gaffer and he knew I wanted to play games. He gave me confidence and it was a really good move and I feel really comfortable here.
MM: I had a knee injury when I was 20 (in a pre-season friendly against Hamburg, he suffered a ruptured anterior cruciate ligament), and when I came back I was playing with the second team. I was 21 and thought it was time to leave and get regular first team football. I was sad as I love Barcelona, but it was the right thing to do and the right time to go.
I wanted first team football, simple as that, but I hadn’t really thought too much about whom for and what league, to be honest with you. I hadn’t thought too much about the Premier League at all, to be honest. A lot of people said how physical it would be, being a defender in the Premier League. But a defender has to also be intelligent, be good on the ball, and good tactically, too.
I then had the opportunity to come here and to speak to Mark Hughes who wanted to change the style of play, and he convinced me to come. It was a big step, but one I was really glad I made. I had to do more gym work and more running to build myself up physically at first. It is more physical over here, it’s a lot calmer in Spain.
I didn’t know much about the city at all, but I had heard that they played a lot of direct, physical football. I also heard about Rory Delap, too!
No part of this interview is to be used without our permission
The new issue of DUCK magazine. Fresher than you under the mistletoe, it’s the only present you’ll need. Maybe one of our bobbles, too, eh?
Inside issue 39:
The Kevin Keen interview – Orfy talks to Keeno about life under the likes of Macari, Little and Kamara. It’s a bit good, this. Don’t tell Orfy though.
Something’s changed – You can’t change from being a Stoke fan. Can you? Paul Anderson, his lad, and a real quandary.
Crafty – The Beerdman carries on his take on the local ale scene. this issue, it’s the bustling canal town of Stone.
Jumpers for goalposts – Ant Sutcliffe and his childhood with his mates
Football – Dave Cowlishaw’s superb take on the beautiful game. Short, sharp, sweet. Not Dave.
Sensible Stoke – Part One of a Ben Cotton’s mint history of Stoke City in the virtual world.
‘Twas the night after Christmas – Bunny remembers a certain last minute Boxing Day winner
Get the message – our editorial.
Last night a DJ made my life – Our regular feature about the platters that matter. Sorry for going all 80’s there, but there’s good reason – this is a beautiful homage to The Ramones by Peter Kennedy..
Christmas Spirits – Rob Doolan’s regular two pages. So you know full well it will be ace. This isn’t – it’s really ace! And it’s dead Christmassy, and it’s got BMX in it!
Those were the days pt 2 – The second instalment of Dut’s take on modern football. The lad wears nice coats and can write. That’ll do for us.
Off a DUCK’s back – we look at Hawkwood Mercantile and their absolutely ace military clobber that you really, really should be wearing on the streets.
……and loads more inside the glossy, A5 pages.
Our new bobble hat: The ’63. Our first batch sold out before it was even made, but on 11th December we have a second lot coming – so in plenty of time for Xmas.
Heard the news on my favourite ever beach – Porth Dinllaen, sat outside the Ty Coch Inn watching the kids playing on the beautiful North Walian sands, cradling a pint of Brains SA, and all was well with the world apart from having to cancel my intended trip to Split after a series of money-losing calamities like car crashes, broken boilers etc…
We were skint, but I wasn’t missing this. I immediately contacted my mate Jamo, as I knew him and Chas would be going. They were. On a Thomsons organised trip. On a plane. I couldn’t afford it. I searched and searched for cheap flights and someone to go with but by the time I had a tentative “if I can get the dosh together, Bunny lad”, than the flights from Gatwick to Basel and Luton to Geneva had either rocketed in price or sold out.
And so it was that at 6pm on 17th August 2011 that I set foot on a coach outside the Britannia Stadium. Yup, I went alone on an official coach. I looked up and ever sigle seat was taken apart from one – thank the good Lord, next to a bloke I knew. Graham. Many will know him, and to say I was delighted to park my ample backside next to his was an understatement.
And so off we went….I soon saw two other lads I knew and it made service station shops and the ferry so much better to have lads I knew. The midnight ferry from Dover was our first chance to have a beer. The sprint for the bar was akin to the gates being opened at a One Direction concert (so SDH tells me!).
But it wasn’t long before we had crossed the channel and were driving on the right hand side of the road. Towards Switzeland. Or so I thought. It was daft am, and it was bloody freezing on the bus. I had shorts on (indeed, no jeans in my rucksack) and as I looked around I was the only one awake. We soon passed a sign that said Paris 20km, and I tried to get some shut eye.
I awoke a couple of hours later and looked at out the window at nothing in particular until a motorway sign caught my eye – Paris 30km. I looked at the map on my phone and as I thought, we were going the wrong way as we should have been well clear of Paris by now.
And so it was that landed in Thun around 2pm – a couple of hours of drinking time wasted. I’d arranged to meet Jamo “by the bridge over the river”. Shame that Thun seemed to be Switzerland’s version of Venice, with any number of bridges spanning the waterways. But the noise told me where they were….
Hundreds of Stoke fans were congregated by the main bridge in the centre of town. The river, spotlessly clean and yet flowing at some rate, was being dived into by any number of inebriated Potteries folk. How someone didn’t die that day…..
“Three beers please mate”. I handed over the twenty euro note into the bartender’s awaiting palm. His hand didn’t move. “I’ve given you twenty mate, I only want three beers”. He pointed at a sign. 7 euros a beer. Time for another plan…..
…So off to the mini-market we went, and there like the finest mirage of an oasis in the middle of the Sahara, was the sign we all wanted to see BEER, TWO EUROS. Me, Chas and Jamo swiftly got a four pack each and went down to the beautiful lake to have a quiet sup in the most surreal and beautiful settings for a game of football. Some more of our aquatic-barmy following were swimming in the lake. As much as I love open water swimming I was knackered after a twenty hour journey, and sat there with cans and sarnie thinking it was more akin to a pre-season game feeling I got at the Lyme Valley Stadium than a Europa League game.
We walked into town. Someone had chucked a local bloke’s bike into the river. We all gave our heads a wobble and got the free bus to the ground.
Around 1,000 had made the trip. In front of us was an Astroturf pitch, a better version of the Bescott Stadium, and the haunting vision of The Eiger rising majestically in the distance behind the home end.
Danny Pugh scores the winner for Stoke in a European away game. Read that again, and think about how magical the last six years have been.
It started in the concourse, fuelled by huge quantities of expensive lager and it spread to the terraces as the second half went on. A huge Potteries conga line singing “Do a deer…” from the Sound of Music. Some Thun fans over the segregation barrier laughed, some pulled their loved ones a little closer to them. We just sang and sang as the game was always going to be a 1-0 win, a result both teams looked happy with during the match.
……and then the final whistle and the thought of “that’s it….that’s my Euro over”. All I had left to look forward to was the journey home. Me and Graham had spent many an hour talking excitedly on the way out, but everyone was knackered now – we just wanted to get home. We did so at around 10.30pm. Noone wanted ale; just our beds.
Such a shame then that we missed the bloody ferry by five minutes!
And so lo and behold we eventually rocked into Staffordshire around 7pm – a journey of twenty one hours or so. And then the unthinkable happened: we pulled into Stafford services. Our coachload was gutted. WHY? “Health and safety lads, need my half hour break now”. Fair enough, but one wag in the seats then got up, took his baseball cap off and shouted that the driver “was now going to have a whip round for the passengers” to much guffawing.
So that was it. On the road for the best part of two days, an easy 1-0 win, some great memories of a simply beautiful place, and I got to see Stoke play competitively in Europe after seeing us twice in Asurtia, pre-season.
Oh, and finally, the TV programme ‘My family’. It’s utter crap when you’re sat at home with a beer in your hand in the warmth and comfort of your living room, but imagine it played on loop during an eighteen hour journey through Europe!!!!!!!!
Reality TV, eh? Where would we be without it? The pub, spending time with our loved ones, doing ace stuff?
Alright, alright, I get what you mean. But for every dreadful boy band, breakdancing OAP and singing goldfish, you get some ‘contestants’ with real talent. Like tonight.
As a big fan of Take That, I was always going to enjoy tonight’s opening night. But ‘could it be magic’? Well yes, it was. But not in the way you’d think……
I went, fully expecting simply a Take That tribute band of an evening. A night simply filled with a plethora of hits from the band. Possibly my favourite band. What’s not to love, eh? Yet, whilst it delivered plenty of the band’s biggest hits, it really wasn’t about Take That. Sounds daft, yeah, but The Band is a drama, superb drama – all about love, friendship, spirit, community and dreams. The fact that it has Take That as a hook makes little difference to something that is joyous yet tearful, funny yet poignant, gritty yet light-hearted.
It’s all about life and what it throws at you. Seen through the eyes and ears of a group of girls who are simply bonkers about The Band, it takes you on their almost-three-decade journey from adolescence to adulthood. Set against a pair of gigs twenty five years apart, what you get is a group of friends brought together, twice, through music. Written by Tim Firth – who wrote the amazing Calendar Girls – The Band is a big surprise. It’s a superb piece of musical theatre with outstanding acting, singing and choreography. One that will appeal to everybody. A superior Mamma Mia, I’d say.
And without spoiling it, the ‘Back for Good’ section is simply superb stuff, and worth the admission price alone! The Band could have been a cheese-fest, but what it should be is a brilliant film in a few years’ time.
The Band goes beyond stereotyping and generalisations. Such a shame that my other half couldn’t, and I ended up going with my daughter instead of him. His loss, her gain! Indeed, a night she’ll ‘Never forget’. Sorry, couldn’t resist!
THE BAND runs at The Regent Theatre, Hanley, until December 9th. For more information and to book tickets, visit atgtickets.com/stoke or call their box office on 0844 871 7649
UPDATE: Becky Ruse’s beautiful article in our digital-only November issue struck a chord with many football supporters, no matter what their allegiance or club. It was simply a superb, written-straight-from-the-heart piece that had any number of good folk on social media saying how it had touched them. It was superb.
A few months back, I saw a picture that Becky had put on Twitter of her dad’s bench that sat a free kick away from his beloved Craven Cottage, in Bishop’s Park – a beautiful spot, looking out onto The Thames. Superbly poignant in both location and the inscription on there.
For me, it really hit home how similar the lives are that many of us lead. It also hit home to me that it’s now five years ago (to the day – 24/11) since my own dad passed away. I can’t even say if the time has passed slowly or quickly. It’s just passed. Having a family of my own means that I’m now the dad – and that means I rarely get a minute to even think at times. But I both loved and hated having the time last Friday night to read Becky’s article. Of course I’d read it before. Several times. But this time it was there, in the finished magazine. And it seemed even better than before, and I admit that the room seemed a little dustier last Friday, too!
The old man has six grandchildren now, and he’d have been in his element watching them growing up, but sometimes that’s not to be, is it? Every now and then, I look over to block 23 at the bet365 Stadium to where we sat. I probably should look over there a bit more often, to be honest. And sometimes I drive past where the Michelin Athletic Club used to stand, The Gardeners Retreat, and down Campbell road – and remember some of the best times of my life: going to watch Stoke with dad.
I make no apologies that every year this goes on our website and that I put it out on social media: I’m proud to have had him as my father. I won’t ever hide that.
As soon as I got back from the ground, five years ago today, after our home game against Fulham, I remember getting a phone call from my aunty telling me that my dad had had a heart attack. He’d left us by the time I got to his bed side. How hugely coincidental it is, is that out of the 91 other league clubs it could have been that day, it was against Jim and Becky’s beloved Fulham – a club and ground that my old man had loads of time for.
Unlike most football fans, I can’t really remember my first Stoke game. My first clear memories of watching us were against Middlesbrough at Vale Park and then having a season ticket in 1977 in the Butler Street Stand. Relegation, inevitably, soon followed.
So, basically, I was introduced to the Potters after a visit to our rivals ground and then being forced to sit in probably the only roofless stand in Britain at that time, and watch us go down……….But am I grateful that my old man grasped my 8 year old hand all those years ago and walked me to those turnstiles? What a daft, rhetorical question, eh?
Fathers are all too often the Nigel Gleghorn (or Glenn Whelan in new money) of families – they do lots of unseen work that always needs doing; they rarely get the adoration they deserve; often steering the ship in the right direction; they have a quiet, unassuming style all of their own, and rarely let anyone down.
That was Peter William Bunn. And I will always now have the stomach-churning task of writing about him in a different tense.
Because dad sadly passed away on 24th November 2012, just an hour after watching the club he worshiped beat Fulham 1-0 at the Britannia Stadium. That he did so at exactly 5.59pm, just as Praise and Grumble was finishing, isn’t just ironic, it’s fate. Talking about Stoke City was one of life’s joys for dad. He also loved listening to the post-match Radio Stoke show.
It’s also fate, not irony, that he was aged 72 when he died. It simply couldn’t be any other number, could it?
Add onto the fact that he went quickly, and relatively painlessly, to sleep on the shoulder of his very best mate, Terry (my uncle, who was driving at the time), and that they were within a Greenhoff volley or Sir Stan mazy dribble of the Victoria Ground, simply makes me smile and actually think that if Carlsberg did ways to pass away……
Perhaps I’m looking for fate when there’s simply none there?
But whilst football is never ever “more than life or death”, it gives me huge comfort that dad passed away on such a seamlessly brilliant Stoke City Saturday afternoon.
The analogy with Nigel Gleghorn was given careful thought. He was a player my father admired – a flashback to players who loved their football, with a wand of a left foot, and one who always seemed grateful to be playing the working man’s ballet and to be playing for Stoke City. He also scored a most memorable goal in front of me and my father – no, not our second at Vale Park or against Plymouth at the Victoria Ground to seal the deal on promotion in 1993.
It involved another Victoria – this time it was Victoria Park, the home of Hartlepool United. It’s one of my favourite awaydays of all time and dad can be vividly, easily seen on the telly on Central Sport a day or two later– to the right of the goal, jumping up and down as the 90th minute corner came in, not in anticipation of Gleghorn’s late winner, but because his bladder was about to explode thanks to his pre-match refreshments, after an unbelievable Usain Bolt-like sprint from coach to public house at 2.25pm!
It had to be in that 92/93 season, didn’t it? So many great memories, so many days when me, dad, Terry, Brad, Owen, Andy, Tim and a few others I can’t remember right now, would descend on football grounds the country over, watching Lou Macari’s team.
That day, for some reason, it was just me and dad. The 20th December 1992……..a dad and his son celebrating their team’s last minute winner, together, on the road to promotion, stood on an open terrace. Just before Christmas. Heaven.
No-one was prouder of Stoke City or Stoke-on-Trent than Peter William Bunn. When on holiday he’d nearly always be spotted in a Stoke sweatshirt or t-shirt, it was like a privilege, a badge of honour for him to wear it. He saw it as almost ‘representing’ his city and club in foreign climes. The Cultural Attaché for Sneyd Green, I suppose.
His love of all things Stoke was amazing. I vividly remember Wembley in 2000, and after beating Bristol City 2-1 in the final, we giddily went back to Harrow-on-the-Hill where our buses were parked.
We went into a huge pub, full of Arsenal fans watching their team’s live game at Leeds. As we flooded into the pub – high on winning a trophy, no matter how small – we were given the usual “small club, northern idiots” jibes from the deluded, self-admiring, self-loving Gunners, looking right down their noses as we entered.
Half an hour later, as the coaches were due to leave on the journey back to The Potteries. Dad had had enough.
“Sorry, but I’m not letting them run Stoke down. Back me up, lads”, he announced.
Then, as the assembled Stokies prepared to depart, and at the tender age of 60, he stood, arms outstretched, perched on a chair, and shushed the pub before leading a huge, proud ‘Delilah’ that finally shut those of an Arsenal persuasion firmly up.
Although his Ashes are scattered at the bet365 Stadium – and by the way, the club were and still are absolutely brilliant with the logistics of this and his now redundant season ticket – his heart and soul will forever remain with his family, and at the Victoria Ground.
Dad never really took to our new ground……
For him, the lack of a proper matchday routine was never really replaced, even after 15 years at our new stadium. Dad’s routine was drinking in the Gardeners Retreat or Michelin Club, both close to Campbell Road, and a five minute brisk stroll at 2.40pm to the ground: Campbell Road – Nicholls Street – Lime Street. He loved holding court with tales like when Sir Stan left the ball by the corner flag and headed backj to the halfway line as his marker also left the ball there and simply following him, or the time he kept a pub near Buxton from rioting at closing time as the assembled Stokies wanted to see the FA Cup semi final goals on the telly on their way back from Hillsborough after we were robbed against Arsenal.
I hope the tales he told were true, but if they weren’t, we loved listening to them anyway: How he came back from Ajax in the UEFA Cup so late that he and his mates simply went straight to Stoke’s next game; or how he moved his wedding day to a Sunday to avoid a cricket match; and how he got a lift home on the team bus (and drank ale with the players) after his transport conked out on the way home from Spurs in the 70’s (all of those are definitely true, by the way!).
He told his tales time and again, but it didn’t matter. Our group loved nursing a pint of Pedigree and watching the glint in his eye as he told them.
Proper Werther’s Original stuff.
But strangely, what makes him unique is that he’s just like any one of us.
Sounds daft that, yeah, but does anyone who doesn’t follow their football club truly know what it means to belong to something so special? How can they ever replace taking their kid to watch their city’s football club? How do they ever feel what we feel? Can their bond with their father ever be as emotionally watertight as ours is with our fathers who support the stripes?
I don’t really know. I’m eternally grateful that I don’t.
All I do know is that me and my brother probably only now realise what we had and what we’ve lost, and that it would be a dream to be even half the dad he was, to our own kids. The hundreds of Stoke games we watched together and the hundreds of times he watched us, his lads, play football and cricket seem to have decreased in number as advancing years and grey hairs dim the memory. But deep down, we know he was always there, and for the last five years we somehow got used to the idea that he no longer is.
But isn’t life also about what you leave behind?
If so, this proud man, that me and my brother were honoured to call ‘dad’, has left something of more value than any lump sum of money ever could – he left us with the same standards as he had, a love of sport and the friendships this brings, and he left us to truly cherish our families. He did so in a beautifully understated manner, too. He never really moaned or shouted. Good men don’t have to, do they? He was a true man of the Potteries, and a proud Potteries man.
For me, my football club is part of my family – it’s such an integral part of who I am, and it was to dad, too. That’s why, at 12.01am November 25th 2012, – I wanted it to be the day after his death – I posted about my father’s passing on The Oatcake Messageboard.
I still don’t know truly why, to be honest, it’s just that dad’s family always seemed to include every single Stoke fan. The 11,000+ views and hundreds of messages meant more than anything to me and my family. Blokes who had been the game with dad in the 1950’s onwards contacted us; strangers who knew of dad and had funny stories emailed me; even Port Vale fans set up a thread on their own messageboard, which was a fantastic gesture.
What it means, and this is so clichéd I know, is that those who watch football really are one family. We feel what everyone else feels, we drink from the same cup, no matter the strip we wear. Whilst staunchly parochial, we all have a respect and give a knowing doff of the cap to those who go through the good and dreadful times following a football club.
That bloody day in 2012: Fenton Bowling Club before the game – watching Stoke win alongside his best mate – three generations of the Bunn’s there at the game that day – going to sleep on his best mate – and 72, that beautiful, beautiful number, 72: It was scripted by the footballing Gods, dad, wasn’t it?
Whilst it turns my stomach to know he’s no longer here, it swells my heart to know that he went on his own terms and how many of us wouldn’t want to go like that, eh? I can’t believe I won’t see him in his SCFC manager’s benchcoat or Henri Lloyd jacket that my brother gave him ever again, but he’ll always be there, walking with us to the ground come sun, rain, snow, wind or whatever the weather throws at us. A truly wonderful Stokie.
That my dad got to walk down, well, shuffled down as he wasn’t brilliant on his feet for some time, Wembley Way with his family on May 14th, 2011 now means everything to me. That we didn’t win hurts, but it would have hurt more if we’d have won and he wasn’t there!
Because even if we win the FA Cup one glorious day, it will never really mean the same without dad being present: standing still, huge beaming smile, and holding his arms high in the air when we scored, as he always did as utter carnage reigned around him.
Nothing ever phased a man who taught me that swimming in the invigorating seas around the beautiful Lleyn Peninsular in North Wales was one of the most life-affirming things that you could ever do. And whilst he resides behind the goal at the bet365 Stadium (and I pray that he’s now shouting grief at opposition goalkeepers and haunting referees, to be honest) a huge part of his soul and his heart will always be in one small, perfect corner of North Wales, a place where he simply adored. We all did. As we adored him.
Mere memories aren’t enough, they never are. But they have to suffice as he’s not here now. I pray he knew how much he was loved, but being a bloke I rarely said it enough when it was needed and necessary.
I hope he could hear me as I stood by him, stroking his soft, perfectly combed grey hair as he lay motionless, looking serenely at peace with the world, on that dreadful Saturday night at the hospital. “We won dad, we won”, I kept muttering. He knew.
The final words?
They really do have to be from the most poignant, beautiful and apt football song ever written, don’t they? A song that he actually sung on way back in 72, and one that simply sums up what I’ve written above:
Love you, dad. God bless.
I was absolutely soaked to the skin. But buzzing, nonetheless.
Three hours of selling issue 38 was both great and knackering in equal measure. I’m 49, and I’ll be honest with you, I questioned what a bloke of my age was doing selling the mag in the middle of all that the beautiful ST4 weather could throw at me. But you lovely folk of an SCFC persuasion who bought the current issue kept me going. Selling DUCK is by far the best part of a matchday – and therein possibly lies some of the problem.
It’s all a bit beige, isn’t it? Whilst I hate players and the team being booed, I feel that this is far better than silence and apathy. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s apathy. Apathy kills football clubs. Booing and criticism shows that people care. And they have every right to express their pleasure or pain in a variety of forms (well, ones that are acceptable).
My stomach churned for Glenn Johnson when he was subbed. I hate to hear that kind of stuff, but I also understood it and those in the ground have a right to voice an opinion. Surely, it’s far more dangerous to simply accept defeat and a sub-standard performances, than to have your say? Although the team (and hopefully) management don’t need to be told when things are poor, but you simply can’t accept Saturday’s performance, can you?
Football matters. Not in the way and to the extent that Shanks said once, but it matters all the same. If it didn’t, I still wouldn’t be fuming now – 48 hours after THAT first half performance. I used to see my dad’s whole week ruined by a Stoke City defeat. But personally, I can take defeat. After 44 years of watching us, it was kind of second nature. We don’t support Stoke City FC for glory: that is never part of the supporting deal. Whatever hand you are dealt, you go with. And those dreadful times turn the good ones into great ones. Every sliver of glory and success a memory for life.
I love winning. But as stated before, if it was all about that I’d support another club. The performance against Bournemouth is what concerns me. yes, the result is what professional football is all about, but performances give you hope of better things to come. Even if we’d nicked a draw on Saturday, that first half no-show would have left me still seething. Seven days after seven-two, we were told we’d get a reaction. Yes, yet another reaction. Five at the back and two holding midfielders wasn’t exactly the reaction I expected as we lined up. Yes, five at the back is ace when you have flying wing backs, who add to your playing style when you’re going forward. Er, say no more. So, we had a goalkeeper and eight defensive players on the pitch. Whilst I don’t want us going gung-ho, we had three out-and-out attackers at home to a team in the bottom three. That is not the mindset I wanted, nor one to strike any fear into the hearts of Eddie Howe and his team.
And yet with several defensive players on the pitch, Bournemouth still played through at us at will. Let’s get it right: a really good team would have been looking at going in at half time against us with at least another goal or two to add to that 2-0 lead. Even Devon Loch has been at the races more than we were when the ref blew his whistle at 3pm! We simply stood around and watched The Cherries pass it around us at will, until the inevitable free shot from the edge of the area was deposited into our bottom left corner.
And then we kicked off…..
One minute later we were kicking off again.
Quite simply from our own kick off we may as well have turned around, smashed it into our own net, and cut out the middle man. It wasn’t schoolboy stuff, as schoolboys wouldn’t have done it. Blame the captain all you like, but he didn’t kick the ball out from the kick off, then leave two men unattended and let them cut through us with one pass. The game was done there and then, and our body language affirmed it. THAT was the time to change it, preferably the personnel on the pitch…..but whilst we meddled a bit with three up top, the away team were the only ones playing with any sort of coherency.
The second half – we huffed and puffed, and lamped it forward as long and high as we could, as we suddenly reverted back to 2011-mode, but let’s face it, Asmir had hardly anything to do. Bournemouth hardly got out of their half, but didn’t really need to, even after our best forward and best right back scored our only goal. We rarely work goalkeepers, and ended with the sight of only two of our three subs used and Ryan going upfront, as we went even more route one.
Question: when teams are losing at home, why not overload the pitch width-ways by chucking another wide man on, rather than another tall player going up top? Crouch needs the ball coming in from out wide, not straight from a centre half.
We didn’t put the ball in from wide areas as we didn’t have enough natural width on the pitch, meaning long balls straight down the middle. NOT what Crouchy and Ryan wanted, and meat and drink to any decent centre half from the PDSL, never mind the Premier League!
A draw would have masked what we’ve known for some time – despite being unlucky with injuries, we don’t seem to have a clue about our best shape and personnel. Saturday wasn’t a must-win game for me, but it was a must-show we have what it takes to move forward. Our set-up for the start of the game left me and those around me shaking our heads. Uber-negative, uber-slow, uber-ponderous, uber-confusing, and it turned into an uber-dreadful first half showing.
I really don’t want to hear the word ‘reaction’ used this week as we get towards an away game against an upwardly mobile team with pace and passion. I simply want actions speaking louder than words.
I really don’t want to hear that the players have been dragged into Clayton Wood on a Sunday or had a team meal to sort it all out. I simply want it sorted.
Yes, I’ve seen us lose to teams far worse than Bournemouth and in far worse leagues. But that’s not the point. When I see on social media lads half my age getting stick as they “weren’t at Wigan on that grassy bank etc“….who gives a toss? It’s not their fault they weren’t ‘lucky’ enough to be born to see Alan Ball and Chris Kamara ‘manage’ us! They may have only seen us in The Premier League, but like me, they are concerned that may soon be coming to an end. They know we are capable of far better, because they have seen it themselves, with their own young eyes, and they have every right to ask questions and point fingers.
Me? I don’t want cups. I don’t expect wins. I aren’t a mard about Stoke, nor do I ever feel entitled to anything where The Potters are involved. I simply want us to make the best of what we have. 8 wins in 30 games or so is not what our squad is capable of. Cup loses to Bristol City, Hull and Wolves’ reserve teams is not what our squad is capable of.
Get rid of the manager? We’ve been asked this any number of times over the last few days. It’s not up to us to take sides one way or another – so we support whoever is in charge and whoever wears the stripes. But with our support and devotion comes a responsibility. A responsibility, like every football club at every level of the game to become better and to learn from mistakes. Personally, I feel as down as I have for any number of years. And that is solely because we are so much better than what we are. And those that say there’s no one else out there? A massive percentage of managers around the world would give their back-teeth to manager a Premier League club, one with an outstanding chairman.
This is not a blip. I spoke on TalkSport last year, almost to the day that I type this. And I’m saying the same things in October 2017 as I was in October 2016. If I say the same things in October 2018 we probably won’t be in this league. As a player, Mark Hughes struck fear into every defender he came into contact with – and I want a bit of that Sparky to show in the team he’s managing. If he was on the bet365 turf last Saturday, Mark Hughes would have been going mad and flying in all over the shop. I wanted us to show a bit of that passion in the first 45 minutes.
It’s not all about Mark Hughes – we also want our lads in red and white to take responsibility, too. We spent over two decades being out of the spotlight, and whilst this league is not all that’s it’s cracked up to be by the annoying likes of SKY Sports, we really do need to be in it – from a club and city perspective. We have a football the club the envy of many, many others. We do so many things right. But its all about what goes on on the pitch.
For us, it’s time to tuck our chins into our big coats and do what we do best – close ranks and give our unequivocal backing to those on the pitch – as we can and do make a difference. But we also ask for The Potters not to punch above, but rather at, our fighting weight, too. After Chelsea put four past us I was still proud of how we performed that day. We made plenty of mistakes, but we gave it a right go and were rightly clapped off at the end. But we’ve had a few too many performances like Saturday – and that needs addressing.
We’re positive folk here at DUCK, and we love our football club, as you all do who are reading this. Keep caring folk, keep loving Stoke City.
Vis Unita Fortior, as they say in Heron Cross.
There really was no doubt that our honourable local owners would make the decision to let Mark Hughes remain as our coach supreme for yet another season.
Yes, we retained our Premier status, but let’s be honest by the ‘skin of our teeth’ as that home win against relegation finalists Hull City was so crucial it took two original Pulis signings to ‘save our bacon’ as they were so up for it that Stoke could have easily been beaten especially how they waltzed out onto the pitch second half giving the impression of not having a care in the world that got up supporters noses that much it made many seethe with anger , myself included and become so loudly vocal that my voice was almost packing in.
This season will have to be extra special for SCFC or else the Championship certainly beckons and it will be deservedly so this time. There is absolutely no room for error this season because trying to get promotion from that league back to the Premier at the first attempt is reminiscent of Arthur not being able to pull Excalibur from the stone. Newcastle are to be hugely applauded and for Brighton it is like all their Christmas present wish list being granted for life.
A mass clear out and reappraisal of the playing staff was the number one summer priority for Mark Hughes. Forget your expensive holiday abroad you haven’t even been worthy of a weekend in Skegnesss or Burslem for that matter, in my opinion.
Out of all the MH signings and wasteful buys, the top prize has to go to imbula for being as an ineffective player to compare to the usefulness of a nine pound note, and it quite worryingly as it looks like Berinhno will follow suit. Bojan was another hallowed footballing god who would grace us with his divine presence and bring excelled Premier glory to the Potteries. Instead, an he’s gone on loan! Shaqiri the superstar one-man micro soccer sensation became SCFC’s answer to Anderton, ending up as a walking sick note.
The success stories of MH’s footsteps in the weird and wacky lower Premier league last minute bargain bucket transfer market have been Messrs Grant and Allen but the latter often looking tired and worn out unable like the remainder of our first eleven to keep pace.
Then there’s our good old top notch striker Marco who missed more scoring opportunities than he converted. Who also is a specialist remonstrator who spends more time on the deck arguing the toss with an official that can’t give one let alone have witnessed the injustice that took place. All resulting, voila, in a usually dire and dangerous goal scoring opportunity by the opposition who have, by now, gained crucial ground by one player not bothering to at least try to win the ball back in his possession.
Which brings me to the subject matter name of the game: to score goals in the opposition’s net making sure that the tally is more than those that end up in ours, which is ideally none conceded at all. Quite a simple task for everyone to understand, you would conclude?
Last season’s goal scoring tally was, put simply, abysmal as was our defensive record. Both were dreadful especially considering the considerable investment bequeathed to Mark Hughes by the Coates family then ridiculously squandered in such an inefficient and ineffective manner.
It is clear that the midfield is more than amply covered almost to the point of saturation so it is blatantly obvious where concentrated quality investment is needed: attack and defence, the two extremes.
A couple of proven Premier strikers are an urgent necessity along with the complete rebuild of our fragile defence, an area in which we were previously renown and feared especially during the Pulis years.
Whilst our passing and possession game, which was a new revolutionary system has gone AWOL, and was pleasing on the eye and relatively initially effective it has not fed the ball to the front then the strikers have just not been capable of putting the ball in the net. Our defence has been an shambles at times when it has alway been strong, effective and protective but now, weak.
The academy? Tom Edwards has broken through,but we need more. I feel that there are an abundance of players in our academy that ‘fit that bill’ who should be given first team experience accompanied in their respective roles by a seasoned first teamer to teach them ‘the ropes’ especially, initially, for the last three penultimate home matches so as to ‘ween’ them in the Premier level culture. I’m convinced that this is the first step in the way forward for the club without wasting millions on players that break the bank and are ridiculously costly on the wage bill with no proven value for money let alone the lack of cost effectiveness with performance poor and not impressive even in the slightest meagre manner.
On the field of play, why so much passing back? This is a recipe for disaster. When the ball is in the goalkeeper’s possession and no compulsory goal kick, why waste the ball by a drop kick that ends up in anybody’s possession, and usually for us in the opposition’s. Why not roll out the ball to the defence and get it upfield and in our permanent possession then on and into the opposition box where our strikers lie in wait to put it into the net.
Is this so hard to digest? Also, use some of the Pulis playing attributes such as long throw-ins and effective corner techniques. At present, we have no player who is capable of an even slightly effective corner. We have gone from being a powerful physical team who had a strong effective defence that scored regularly from set pieces to one that continually concedes from set pieces.
The general calibre of player has also changed significantly under the change of tenure strangely mirroring it even to the point of lack in
If an honest, open appraisal of our competitors is carried out then the investment in youth and early transfer activities have proved to bring stability and success. West Bromwich Albion, as a club that mirror ours, virtually swapped places with us this season, cause for thought eh?
Time is now not on our side with us gradually getting more left behind each season taking back step after back step. We cannot afford any hiccups this coming season especially relying on compatriots’ results to dictate our continuity in the top flight as I do not fancy our chances on an immediate bounce back from the Championship and furthermore do not relish a return to attending matches at Molineux.
At the time of writing this article,it was nearly one month prior to the impending commencement of our 10th season in the Premiership, and as usual in accordance to the Hughes management culture and tenure he has not made any major inroads to really strengthening and revamping the playing squad to deal with the vigour’s and challenges of a new season in the top flight in addition to ensuring that this forthcoming season does not unfold similar to the last whereby relegation was a strong possibility.
The sale of Arnautovic is no surprise and in some aspects, a relief as face it he’s hardly set the world on fire, has he? The sale of Walters has left a bad taste in some supporters’ mouths as he definitely has been a rock-solid stalwart that. The same can be said about Whelan.
The signing of two young talented players to our squad can hopefully gel with Ramadan and Shaquiri to bring some threat to our overall game and be complemented more evenly on the pitch whilst providing a threat to every opposition.
Inject the fuel, Mark now, and spark our resurgence for the sake of the club, the Coates family and most importantly for the fans as our wrath knows no bounds! And our Chairman will be well aware of that as, after all, attendances fill the coffers: lower league = lower attendances, a simple business equation that should be urgently adhered to as SKY parachute money will not last long.