Millwall 3-3 Cardiff ~ Match Report

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Cardiff at home always has a somewhat strange alluring appeal and this was the case again as around 13,000 odd Millwall fans turned out to see if our recent run of form was likely to be extended and maybe just give us a continued flirtation with the end of season lottery that is fondly known as the play offs.

The sun was shining as MrsB and me turned up to find Ilderton road had become a car park for the met police, clearly proving once again that the greatest oxymoron ever is still unequivocally “police intelligence”.

Of course, the worrying thing is that the clowns that decide on how to police games at Millwall will see this novel idea of closing the route into the ground as a clear indication that it was exactly right, as there was not an inkling of trouble from either sets of fans.

You may as well sate that this tactic also stops man-eating tigers from trying to walk around Zampa road because sure enough there wasn’t any of those either…

The fact that all but seven Cardiff fans came on official coaches that bussed them straight into the away end seemed lost on the smug, self righteous looking plod standing resolutely on guard.

But that is the way things are these days and it will only get worse as if we make progress upwards so this is the price we pay for success.

What of Cardiff? Obviously we know their fans are in the main certified fuckwits, that is a given, and that they have a penchant for lamb love but by the gods of football and all that is holy, what is all this ‘doing the ayatollah’ all about? Head tapping in public should be reserved for tic tac men or the mentally retarded only so unless Cardiff City are supported by a legion of book makers continually signalling 9-4 then we can only assume the latter is the case.

I don’t like the Welsh, (who does?) but I particularly don’t like the people from Cardiff. Apart from the palpable smell they give off they have a distinct lack of irony about them (does anyone from Cardiff actually speak welsh?). They induce hatred merely by being from South Wales; there really is no need for them to do anything else.

And so to the game, Mr Jackett opting for a 4-4-2 clearly fancied his chances against a Cardiff side clearly looking for automatic promotion. The team line up was as follows: Forde, Dunne, Robbo, Ward, Craig, Henry, Trotter, Mkandawire, Townsend, Lisbie & Morison.

Referee Taylor took his time but finally got the game going and we were sort of struggling from the off. Not under the cosh exactly but the game was being dictated by Cardiff and we were concentrating of defence rather than attack.

Dunne put in a timely tackle on about ten minutes as Cardiff’s Whittingham threatened to shoot after breaking through our back line and a few minutes later we had the controversy between Robbo and Quasimodo. The Parisian bell ringer from Notre Dame appeared to lead with his elbow (although it could have been his hunch) and clattered Robbo to the floor. The Lions captain needed his head bandaged but Quasi loped away without a caution from referee Taylor who clearly must’ve taken on board the cries of “sanctuary” from the humpty backed ponce.

He blow to Robbo’s head was only slightly avenged soon after when he took Bellamy out and got a yellow card for his troubles and then Mr Jackett substituted him perhaps to save him from a possible red.

The game drifted into a bit of a stalemate after this and although the game was ebbing from end to end there were no real clear cut chances from either team

There was really little or no real action to speak of for the rest of the first half except for a fine stop by Forde from a blistering drive from the big galloot they had up front, right on the stroke of half time.

All in all this first half was about as appealing and as entertaining as a bout of mumps.

The second half was something else…

Straight from the kick off we went on the attack. Morison made a deft flick into Lisbie’s path but his shot was always on the rise and it flew over the bar.

Then Cardiff came back at us and moments after the Lisbie effort we were in trouble. Burke found himself some room inside our penalty area and he managed to slot the ball past Forde. 0-1.

We then had the most surreal of situations when a Cardiff fan decided to pull off a half decent impression of Tom Daley by swallow diving from the upper tier into the deep blue ocean of empty seats in the lower tier.

The dopey sod was apparently up on the wall giving it large to the Millwall fans in the west (or non Dockers stand as we in the east like to call it) and then fell off. Rumours that he was tempted by a passing inflatable sheep could not be confirmed but he hit the deck in an astounding fashion and he looked, in medical parlance, totally fucked.

The Millwall medical staff raced into action and the game continued unabated and as the majority of fans were watching the tumbling Taff get treatment Lisbie was being shoved over in the Cardiff area and Mr Taylor unhesitatingly pointed to the spot.

Trotter stepped up to the plate and sent ‘keeper Bywater the wrong way. 1-1 and mass celebrating all round (but no diving Millwall fans, thankfully).

Next up it was Cardiff’s turn as the bell ringer bounded into our box only to be expertly tackled by Purse but to our horror referee Taylor pointed to the spot for a Cardiff penalty…or did he? Suddenly he was scratching his ear like a news anchor on election night and before you could say “The bells made me deaf, you know” Taylor changed his mind and signalled a corner kick.

Humpy Bellamy was incandescent with rage, his face twisted in a gargoylian grimace (although to be fair, how the fuck could you tell the difference) and he was rewarded with a deserved yellow card for his ugliness and general demeanour. Personally I would have liked to have seen him tied to a whipping post and flogged like the real Quasimodo but I don’t think refs are allowed to do that anymore, which is a pity.

Mr Jackett made a change and took off Townsend and brought on Bouazza on the hour mark and the skilful winger soon made an impact. Two minutes it took for him to make a difference as he swung in a delicious corner and as the ball flicked off Trotters head, Lisbie was left unmarked for a simple header into the net. 2-1! Fantastic stuff, the place was rocking and rolling now and there was still more to come.

Unfortunately it was to come from some intense pressure from the welsh visitors, first off a thumping drive cannoned back off the post with Forde well beaten and then soon after what looked like a softish header again beat Forde but it hit the bar and was cleared away.

The inevitable equaliser came soon after as Bellamy fired over a hopeful cross that found its way to Whittingham who fired home from close range. 2-2. It was exhausting stuff.

We went searching for a winner and Mr Jackett brought on Harris for Lisbie and we were making headway but against the run of play disaster struck yet again, instigated by the camelious Bellamy, who managed to find Burke at the far post and the ball was bundled home. 2-3.

Ten minutes left to salvage something and we gave it everything we had. The time was running out now and with barely two minutes of normal time remaining Bouazza chipped a ball forward to space and Morison was on it like a whippet. Bywater came rushing out of his goal and Morison spotted it and calmly lobed the ball high over the despairing ‘keeper’s head and it seemed to take ages to drop back down but when it did it was over the line and safely in the net. 3-3. What a half of football we had witnessed.

And there was still a bit more to come as Forde boomed a huge ball forward that seemed to catch the Cardiff defence in no mans land and I don’t intend to sound disparaging but the ball was picked up by Harris who, God love him, hasn’t got the turn of speed that Morison has got, and so he had to hit it early and a grateful Bywater collected neatly at his near post.

And by way of a final act, Dunne was given a red card in stoppage time for a well-worked foul on Igor Bellamy and that, dear reader, was that.

Some who were there will say it was a rubbish game of football, others will say it was an extraordinary game of football but whatever your view, if you saw it you wont forget it in a hurry.

And what of Dai the Diver? He was carted off to Kings College hospital and we are told all he suffered was some broken fingers, some soft tissue damage and a bruised ego. I am led to believe by my old mate Brian Cox that the moon was on its elliptical course that brings it as close to the earth as it ever will be. This sort of thing can bring out all the various idiots, clots, numbskulls, twonks, gonks and howling mad goons you can imagine so this silly fucker at least has his excuse ready when he gets asked what the hell he was playing at…

So what’s next? Ah yes, we are on international break next week end which means it is a long fortnight before our next action and it is off up north we go as we take on the only team in all four English divisions whose name you cant colour in. Yep, it’s never dull in Hull so I hope to see some of you there!
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    Great stuff, Bellamy, you're an ugly cunt!

    The Welsh diver broke 3 fingers, his other 9 are fine!
    I didn't realise Morison put his goal in with his ear ;)
    from the non dockers stand, it looked to me like Forde got a touch on to Whittingham's shot that hit the post. Great report.
    Updated 24-03-2011 at 12:54 PM by Dan R (typo)