Millwall 2-0 QPR ~ Match Report

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After the crushing disappointment of Saturday’s defeat against Watford we had no time to dwell on past as we had the visit of league leaders QPR arriving at the Den complete with their marmite manager spouting platitudes for us the fans and Mr Jackett.

All the signs were there for a bumper turn out so MrsB and me wasted no time in getting our arses into gear and making our way down to the Den. We parked up and made our way towards the Millwall café only to be confronted by what looked like the seventh cavalry lining up in Zampa road.

The Mets finest had turned up resplendent on their dashing steeds to make sure the low life’s from West London were looked after but why they had to line up across the road is anybodies guess. There seemed to be more of them than you’d get the start of the Grand National, snorting and dribbling, shitting all over the floor, but the horses were quite well behaved though…

QPR are another radar dodging outfit as far as I am concerned. They have no real discerning qualities as a possible rival and I fear they must be categorised along with Charlton as a team no one remembers until you play them. The fans epitomise the word “muggy”. They are the Johnny come lately’s that never quite arrive and when they do sort of drift into view you wonder why they bother. I think someone smarter than me once said a crowd of QPR fans are collectively known as a miasma and I aint disagreeing with that…

So, a healthy 14,000 + inside the ground and Mr Jackett had the chance to mix it up a bit with new loan signing Andros Townsend, and he fitted in as follows: Forde in goal, Back four was Dunne, Ward, Robbo and Craig, midfield was Henry, Mkandawire, Townsend and Trotter with Harris and Morison up front.

Of course we had the ‘pleasure’ of welcoming back Danny Shittu who of course had turned from rock solid defender of quality into a useless fat waste of blood and guts simply by leaving us and returning to his former club.

Another returnee was referee Tanner, not a favourite since the Sheff Wed debacle but time can be a reasonably decent healer and we gave him a modest amount of abuse which, to be fair was no more or less than any ref might expect to have.

So off we went at Tanner’s whistle and it was a bit of a frenetic start, high tempo and very full on.

We looked awesome. The team was clicking on all fronts and the debut boy Townsend was looking very promising, we didn’t looked fazed by the visitors at all.

Morison seemed to have found a new lease of life and he began to run Shittu ragged as we built up a steady momentum going forward and our defence was resolute, nullifying the supposed threat of “superstar” Taraabt, a player clearly, with too many a letter ‘a’ in his name for his own good.

As the half progressed we simply got better and better and the chances started to mount up, Morison capitalising on slack play by Routledge was denied by the always impressive Kenny in the QPR goal, Bomber was a fraction away from a tap in after a thoughtful long throw from Morison and then Mkandawire thundered a drive from distance that had Kenny scrabbling but the ball went wide.

We dominated the play and as the half drew to a close Robbo fluffed a glorious chance, heading over from an enticing corner from Townsend.

As the whistle blew to end the half the appreciative home crowd roared the players off, the only thing missing was an opening goal for the lively Lions.

The second half saw no changes from Mr Jackett and why not because the 11 out there were in fine fettle. Straight from the kick off we went for their throats; wrestling the ball from them immediately and forcing them back deep into their own box.

The boring, sporadic chanting from the visiting fans decreeing their status as ‘top o’ the league’ was rapidly fading out as a rather large metaphorical penny was slowly dropping as they realised their team were getting mullered by a rampant Lions side that sensed blood and went for the kill.

When it came, it came from nowhere, a lazy lump forward by a bedraggled Rangers defence saw Mkandawire power a header forward and suddenly the chase was on between Morison and Shittu. One, a lithe, fit athlete, the other, a mountain of muscle, fat and gristle, there was only one winner. Morison powered towards goal and I’d wager every Millwall fan in the place thought “one on one, please make it this time” and at last the boy delivered with a thumping drive from the edge of the box that flashed past the stranded Kenny and nestled the ball into the back of the net. 1-0! The place erupted; the noise was phenomenal as Morison took the plaudits in his stride, punching the air in a mixture of celebration and relief.

Was there a QPR fight back? No chance, we had them by the throat and we were shaking them up badly. They lost their shape, lost their way and lost their bottle, they had no fight left in them, and they were broken in spirit and missing of any semblance of class.

Warnock knew the game was up, and took off the totally ineffective Taraabt but it made no difference as we continued to batter them senseless.

Lisbie came on for Harris and he was straight into the action, his first touch a tidy effort at goal that drifted wide after some superb inter play between Morison and Henry.

Our cake needing icing and with about 15 minutes to go we got it. Yet again we slaughtered their defence when Henry collected the ball and sent Morison on another Shittu sapping run but this time the big galoot resorted to basic instincts and fouled Morison as he got inside the area. Morison, to his eternal credit, sprung up and slotted the ball home but Referee Tanner had already blown his whistle for a penalty and the red card was out before the ball had hit the back of the net.

Poor old Shittu, he had been humiliated all night long and now it looked as crestfallen as an infant child that had soiled their knickers at a birthday party.

Not too surprisingly, Morison did not step up for the spot kick, that particular bird has probably flown, so Trotter was the man of the moment and he duly slotted home with no fuss at all. 2-0, wild celebrations and deep joy all round.

We could’ve got another one or two goals after this but for some top draw goal keeping from eternal fall guy Paddy Kenny. Lisbie brought out the first save and Morison was thwarted right at the death of the game and in between Townsends trickery in the box produced a close effort was blocked more by chance than anything else.

The final whistle heralded another huge wave of noise and the players deservedly milked the applause they richly deserved.

It was a fantastic night of football with the right result and a god feeling that maybe, just maybe, we are getting to be the real deal.

We have a tough trip to Burnley coming up at the weekend but after this night’s performance our life long adage “we fear no foe” has never been more apt!

See you all there!
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