Football at its best
is a game which transcends sport to become something
approaching art, a thing of beauty which expresses spirit
and passion in a way that makes all of us a little more
than we were. What a pity that given this chance to bring
happiness to so many that City repeatedly choose to crap
on the canvass instead of painting masterpieces.
The first half performance was hugely
disjointed for Gloucester. The defence looked like they'd
been introduced to each other at kick-off, a situation
Bowen was able to exploit when he crashed the ball into
the net from six yards with the City defence all left
marking the other forward. The gap between midfield and
the forwards was such you wondered if they'd had an
argument and were no longer talking. The forwards weren't
helping themselves much either, with the odd choice of
Fergie and Rutter up front Gloucester were static and
lacking pace.
A thoroughly
depressing and forgettable first half was slightly
improved on in the second half. City discovered both
wingers and at last crosses came over, although
frustratingly City couldn't capitalise on the situation.
Too often Hemmo whipped over excellent crosses, but
hadn't looked up to see where his forwards were - so
crosses fell to the back post when our players were at
the near post, and vice versa. City perked up with the
arrival of Mings and Mainwaring adding some much needed
weight and movement.
Not for the first
time this season City found themselves unable to create
many clear chances despite having much of the pressure.
The best chance fell to Niblett after a Wyatt corner, but
his well hit shot was at a good height for the keeper who
could beat it out. Mings was unlucky having burst through
the defence, but the ball bobbled away from him and fell
harmlessly wide. Curious refereeing helped nullify the
threat from Hemmo. Once again Gloucester got hit by a
sucker punch as Bowen was left in acres of space, and he
added his second in the last minute.
So city limped off
the pitch having collected a host of injuries, with both
of the Thorne brothers joining Jon Holloway in the
post-match treatment room. Of more long-term concern must
be the general despondency and malaise that is
threatening to smother everything at the club. The
players don't look like they're enjoying themselves, and
the fans are staying away in droves - upset either by the
lack of excitement on the pitch or perhaps the drivel
currently in vogue on the terraces. Hopefully its just
end of season blues, but I'm off to fill out another
dozen lottery tickets...
Mountain 