It wasn’t the six nil score line (the reality was it could have been double figures and we may have had three or four of own), or the fact that we played badly (we weren’t too bad, at times, as it happened), but simply a case of everything that Brentford hit went in the net, and everything that we hit either grazed the woodwork, missed the target or simply lacked the power to beat the keeper. Perhaps it was the relatively balmy November weather, the good travelling support for such an inconsequential encounter unnerving the players or the sight of Shwan Jalal back between the posts but wearing Jordan Seabright’s jersey that simply confused the hell out of everyone, who knows? Actually, wearing Jordan’s shirt probably confused Shwan more than most as his overall performance resembled a rabbit caught in headlights.
The evening itself did not get off to too bad a start. A pleasant evening brought a sizeable crowd up from the south coast, perhaps attracted by the £5 admission price. Brentford, however, were clearly not expecting such a horde to turn up as come the kick off there were still queues five deep outside the ground, including your correspondent. The team just about picks itself these days, playing 4-5-1 with Michael Symes in for the cuptied Wes Thomas and Jalal for Darryl Flahavan.
I did make it into the ground, but only as the home side were wheeling way in delight at having taken the lead. Apparently, the ball squirmed through Jalal’s hands and into the back of the net. The rest of the half was, if anything, relatively even: we had a couple of good opportunity’s, one falling to Scott Malone that hit both posts (apparently, as I was still outside the ground and it was down the other end of the pitch) and a good incisive run from Marc Pugh that just flew past a post. Brentford, though, did have moments of their own: Shwan was left flapping and pawing at a shot that was destined for the far post before he managed to scramble it to safety, and, midway through the half, a cheap corner conceded and the keeper wasn’t able to get through a sea of players, and the ball was bouncing off Grella’s head into an empty net.
The second half began with some renewed purpose. Wes Fogden gave way to Charlie Sheringham and we reverted to 4-4-2. Symes probably had our best chances on the night, but before we could really get into our stride Grella had added his second on the night after just forty eight minutes. All we could do was to play for pride and with the line being led by Symes created a few half decent chances, the best of which saw a shot skim of the top of the bar. He may also have won a penalty, but anyone who was at Griffin Park for the league encounter last year will know how unlikely it would be that Mr Woolmer would ever point to the spot for the visiting team. Two further, and possibly better appeals were also turned away: firstly as young Charlie was on the receiving end of a hefty challenge and then, in the dying embers, Fletch was clearly baulked. Despite our possession and vigour, however, we struggled to knock a hole in a wet paper bag, and the reality was that we were simply trying to play for some pride. At three nil down, the contest was effectively over as a real contest. Three late goals in the last thirteen minutes simply nailed the coffin tightly shut, but all of them were breakaway efforts.
Games against Brentford are never easy of pretty (they are always big and and physical, which simply doesn’t suit our style). You can cry, you can fume, you can be simply incandescent over such a drubbing, but the reality is that all you can really do is have a bloody good laugh about it. Bizarrely, had we lost four nil, the reaction would probably have been a lot more subdued than it was having gone down to the heaviest defeat for six years. Time to move on, forget about the bizarre and surreal, consolidate and get a couple of wins under our belt and restore some confidence.
Revenge will be sweet on Boxing Day!
Marc Pugh
AFCB: Jalal, Cook, Barrett, Peters, Purches, Malone, Cummings, Pugh, Arter, Fogden, Symes
Subs: Francis, Zubar, Molesley, Sheringham, Fletcher
Dave Linsay, South Woodham Ferrers