Hammers comeback covers the cracks

West Ham 3 Birmingham 3

We’ve never been served so fast it Ken’s Café. It’s 4pm and brunch for my kids for a quid comes within five minutes. Then it’s on to the Newham Bookshop where we buy Sugar Girls by Duncan Barrett and Nuala Calvi, a history of the Tate & Lyall factory in Canning Town and two books from The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. A good start to the day, it's just the football that might be the problem.

At the unlikely time of 5.20pm we join groundhopper Nigel telling tales of “Stand up if talk bollocks!” chants at Barnsley, Whovian Michael and Fraser, complete with cigars, in the East Stand. Matt is still in Uzbekistan, and texts to say: ”Greetings from Bukhara heart of the Silk Road.” "Is he at Macclesfield, home of the Silkmen?” I quip.

My eleven-year-old daughter Nell asks why the crowd groan when Carlton Cole’s name is read out and I explain the goal ratio of CC compared to Ricky Lambert. There are early warning signs as Green parries a Birmingham shot and then Davies heads wide. We go behind after 27 minutes when McCartney plays a loose pass and Mutch surges past Faye to fire into the corner. Robert Green is badly at fault. “Daddy, why didn’t Robert Green move?” asks Nell.

It gets worse. Three minutes later a foul in midfield goes undetected and then City play in ex-felon Marlon King, who has found a Shard-size gap through our central defence and expertly shoots past Green. Bugger. It’s just like Reading. Then McCartney goes off and is replaced by Danny Collins after a clash of heads. Matt texts: "In Uzbekistan they know how to deal with those who fail dismally." 

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY DEFENCE
As both Lola and Nell have Harry Potter books with them I ask them if there’s a spell to help us beat the blue forces of Valdemort. Thirteen-year-old Lola comes with an incantation that will make the City players die, but that seems a bit extreme, even for 2-0 down at home. 

The crowd and West Ham are sparked into life by the early calamities. Maynard curls an excellent shot against bar and then from Noble’s corner Tomkins heads on and Vaz Te glances home another header. Just the fillip we needed for half-time, all we have to do is keep it at 2-1 for two minutes of added time.

Ah, but we fail to win the next tackle in midfield and concede a corner, Nolan heads clear but Burke volleys into the ground and the ball bounces horribly over our defenders and into the corner. It’s slightly lucky but if we’d kept a man on the line it would surely have been cleared.

Matt texts: “Tamerlane the Earth-Shaker massacred five million in India – doubt if he would have forgiven Big Fat Sam for another failure.” I text back to say we’re going to win 4-3.

CARLTON THE EARTH SHAKER

Allardyce has clearly done some earthshaking at half time, having possibly thrown several tea urns, unread Olympic stadium dossiers and a pile of Karren Brady books at the players. Lansbury replaces Maynard and we start with new intent. Nothing to lose now. Nolan is playing as a near-striker and looks much better further up the field. West Ham bombard the Brum penalty area. 

Lansbury has a good penalty appeal turned down and then Cole is held back and the incensed Lansbury races back to remonstrate with the referee and is booked. At least we’re playing with some spirit. The crowd sense this and are the noisiest they’ve been all season with chants of “Come on you Irons!” and “Claret and Blue Army!” Show some passion and the fans will always get behind a West Ham team. Patronise them and pick fights with them and it’s professional suicide.

Birmingham’s Zigic comes on to chants of “Does the circus know you’re here?” Our vital second goal comes after 70 minutes when Nolan is given space to feed the ball back to Cole who does well to swivel and shoot into the corner.  “I thought you said he wasn’t any good?” says Nell accusingly.

WE ARE WEST HAM'S CLARET AND BLUE ARMY!

With the lights on it’s a proper game. Not pretty, but at least this is what we thought we were buying into with the Allardyce regime – unrelenting effort and never giving up. Collins balloons several crosses in to the area, but we miss the accuracy of McCartney. "We just need a lucky pen,” says Mystic May and Nigel offers him a blue Biro. Vaz Te looks a threat and Big Sam goes forward crazy, taking off Noble for Baldock. Cole volleys just over. And then Collins fires wide.

The breakthrough comes a minute from time when Lansbury’s shot hits the raised arm of Burke. Vaz Te puts the penalty straight down the middle and scores in front of a heaving Bobby Moore Stand. We almost win it when Lansbury miscues a late chance.

“That was the best atmosphere I’ve ever heard at West Ham,” says 13-year-old Lola. It’s been a reminder of why we come to West Ham, in the hope of six-goal thrillers and being entertained. Not much use to our hopes of automatic promotion though, unless Reading lose to Brighton and Southampton, and the first half saw some catastrophic defending. But in the second half a sign there’s some spirit in the side that might take us though the play-offs.

Avram's Blue birthday…

West Ham 0 Birmingham City 1

Pre-match preparations are fine. My daughters are here as it’s kids for a quid and in Ken’s Café we meet match day announcer Jeremy Nicholas and then blogger Iain Dale — who has upset Carol by describing Ken’s as a “greasy spoon” on the radio, when as we all know it is themed retro cuisine at its finest. Big Joe arrives to spend the money we had thrown at us at Birmingham.

Then it’s off to the Newham Bookshop for a chat with Vivian and double book purchase for the girls.

Inside the stadium Jeremy Nicholas announces that it’s Avram Grant’s 56th birthday and from then on it’s all downhill. James Tomkins injures himself in the warm-up. And this being a 1.30pm kick-off, there’s a strangely muted atmosphere zamonmg the crowd. Birmingham have about ten fans which is terrible. Where are all the brave lads who tried to attack us at St Andrew's?

Nothing much happens in the first half. Obinna has a dangerous cross, Keane volleys over, Pedersen and O'Neil play in dangerous low crosses but no forward attacks them and that’s about it. It’s a mediocre game for Sky after the Premier League goal record of the previous day. Birmingham look difficult to break down and we don’t enjoy playing against them.

At half-time Fraser reveals he's been to see Adam Ant — although West Ham are showing no signs of becoming Kings of the Wild Frontier. Even though ridicule is nothing to be scared of.

In the second half we get a bit worse. Upson has to be replaced by Da Costa, and Brum bring on Larsson, who changes the game. We have one inviting chance when Parker breaks only to play a poor ball. Scotty doesn’t have a great game, for once, and you wonder how tired he is after his exertions this season. Keane looks frustrated and nothing comes off for him, while Piquionne is off his game.

Da Costa gives a free kick away and Larsson fires the ball towards Zigic. We clear it, but immediately Mark Noble barges Bentley in the back, causing an ungodly explosion of expletives from the Vicar’s Son besides me.

Larsson fires in the dead ball and Zigic gets goalside of Bridge to head home. He runs off to celebrate in front of the meagre away fans – on Match of the Day all you can see is one man and a boy.

The man in black makes some eccentric decisions as our players are battered by the Brummies and I tell young Nell that the crowd are singing, “The referee’s an anchor!”

Ba and Cole come on for Keane and Piquionne. Ba nearly scores with a great first touch, hitting the post with a difficult chance.

We improve a little, Da Costa has a long range shot saved with no one following in. Then Da Costa heads just wide as Cole almost prods it in.

We lack width and no forward ever seems to run to the far post. Roger Johnson looks composed, Ferguson runs midfield and in truth it’s comfortable for Birmingham. At least the kids have only had to pay a quid – only now it seems we’ve been overcharged.

The whistle blows. Oh what a birthday surprise, Alex has beaten Avram's team. We troop away to Tesco in search of Moshi Monster cards to try to take away the pain. A thoroughly dispiriting day. We’ve never got going. If we can’t take at least point from games like this, then what hope is there?

Avram goes home to celebrate his birthday with Morrissey. The only positives are that Winston Reid has played OK, Upton Park tube is open and we don’t have to play Birmingham again this season — and probably next.

Always believe in Carlton Cole!

West Ham 2 Birmingham 1 (Carling Cup)

Surely I’m too old to be feeling this nervous on the way to a game… calm, calm, calm… check my season ticket, hope the online purchase went through and remember my lucky 1970s away kit from the play-off final.

Fraser’s had another 5-1 won on the horses and is wearing his lucky red shoes (stolen from Elvis Costello) from the Man United game, while Matt is his lucky Dukla Prague away kit. Even Granty has remembered his lucky scarf.

It’s a shame to see some empty seats for a semi-final – surely the club could have given tickets away rather than not have a full house for what they claim is our most important home game in 30 years?

Upson plays as an emergency left-back while Reid retains his place at centre back. Cole’s on the bench and Spector plays alongside Parker and Noble.

We start well, buoyed by the atmosphere under the lights, peppering the Birmingham goal. Spector has an early shot beaten away. Noble makes a great run into the box after 13 minutes, Obinna heads back, there’s a bit of pinball, Spector hooks it across goal and Nobes thumps the ball home from an acute angle on the right and runs to the Chicken Run.

Victor Obinna cuts inside has a searing drive tipped wide by Foster and the Brum keeper makes a flying save from Tomkins header. Noble is having a great game, Piquionne is leading the line well and Spector is giving another fine display in midfield.

But typically we look a different team in the second half. “It’s like Grant has the anti-Midas touch,” suggests Matt.
Birmingham have been hairdryered. We sit back as Barry Ferguson bosses the midfield and Birmingham send in cross after cross. Sears fails to shoot first time and a rare Hammers chance comes to nothing. The Blues have a free header just wide. Freddie Sears clears a header off the line.

Eleven minutes in to the half Birmingham win a corner and Liam Ridgewell, our ex-Academy player, gets ahead of Reid to head home. Bugger.

The game turns on its head. Obinna flicks his boot into Larsson’s privates right in front of the linesman and he’s sent off. Crazy, although he played the balls.

“He’s just cost us a place at Wembley,” I complain.

The Fonz-like Fraser suggests that this is too pessimistic and that we’ll still win this. Is there a cooler person at Upton Park?

At least the fans remain buoyant, trying to raise the team with Bubbles and Claret and Blur Army.

Grant brings on Cole and Hines – a brave move suggesting he may have nothing to lose in what could be his last game. Birmingham have a strong claim for a penalty waved away as Upson pushes Ferguson in the box.

But what’s this? A rare Hammers attack. Parker finds Spector out on the right and the US’s answer to Lionel Messi plays in a low cross to Carlton Cole The hapless Carlton scuffs the tamest pf tame shots at Foster which he’s going to save easily and he’s already thinking about who he’s going to throw the ball out to when the keeper suddenly goes all jelly legged and becomes simply a lose collection of atoms through which the ball bobbles into the back of the net.

The home fans erupt in joy and laughter. Carlton runs to the East Stand. “That shot would have beaten any keeper!” I claim. Even Nigel celebrates, as he’s now becoming used to the less aesthetic goals we now bag.

What a substitution. Tactical brilliance from Grant.

“It was like Doctor Who, Carlton managed to upset the laws of time and space,” suggests Matt.

“Too shit for England!” and “England’s England’s number one!” chant the Bobby Moore Stand.

Robert Green must be laughing at that one. England’s true remains solid to emphasise the contrast with Birmingham’s dodgy keeper.

Our ten men dig in. The tension is too much for the Vicar’s Son as we concede endless free-kicks on the edge of the box. “That was ****ing terrible! Absolutely ****! How many ****ing free kicks must we give away?”

But we play it in the corners, Kovac comes on to waste some time, survive three minutes of injury time and the whistle blows with Bubbles on the PA and Jeremy Nicholas going a bit mental. We might even have saved Avram’s job.

On the way to the Black Lion Lisa suggests that we should have two managers. What a great idea. Avram for the cups and someone like Curbs for the league. Well, there’s been Curbishley and Gritt at Charlton and Houllier and Evans at Liverpool, but no-one has tried a proper job-share. Surely w should be the first?

Inside the pub I celebrate with Old Cocky ale (a reference to Foster perhaps?) and the philistines around me drink lager and Strongbow. Not even Young’s Kew ale can tempt Nigel.

We see the goal on Sky Sports News and come to the conclusion that Carlton is really a bit like the Shane Warne of football. A master of psychology he has bowled Foster exactly the sort of shot he didn’t expect and relied on his sense of over-confidence to send us into the second leg with a lead.

Zola power

West Ham 2 Birmingham 0

These are desperate times. It’s on with the lucky claret-hooped away kit that I’ve had since Fortune’s Always Hiding days. It worked in the play-off final so it’s worth a try.

We look doomed if we lose tonight. Although quite what the Vicar’s Son’s mum thinks of Armageddon being announced by David Sullivan on horseback via the Sun we don’t as yet have a theological opinion on.

In Ken’s Café it’s like a post-modern Waiting for Godot as The Gav sits in front of his bacon sausage and chips in his perpetual wait for DC to arrive with his ticket. Matt’s chips and beans arrive at 7.40 so I leave them to it, not wanting to miss our first three goals.

There’s a great atmosphere in the stadium, although we’re not sure about advocating a 25 per cent pay cut and undermining the manager is a great idea from the Club Manager.

“Well, we got plenty of publicity through it,” I say.

“Perhaps he’s just trying to get bums on seats like an old style fight promoter,” suggests Nigel.

Zola is apparently determined to show he is not the next Ossie Ardiles by making tough decisions. Out go Collison and Noble and in come Kovac and Diamanti. Ilunga is back too, but is soon injured again and replace by the ever-willing Spector. We look better balanced tonight and Kovac adds some physical presence to midfield.

Our defence has a few ropey moments but generally we look up for it. Diamanti, playing wide on the left, has a shot tipped away and Phillips has an effort palmed over by Green and Jerome shoots wide when well placed, but generally it’s a game of few chances. Mido puts himself about alongside Cole (you do hope Mido won’t have to have his £1000 a week cut to £750) and Diamanti whizzes in crosses all night, but the Brum defence remains resolute.

In added time at the end of the first half Parker is hacked down on the edge of the box and Diamanti curls home an absolutely superb free kick. The deranged Diamanti Geezer then runs into the arms of Zola shouting, “This is for you!” in Italian. Zola is mobbed by half the team in a clear message the new owners.

“I just hope we can hold on to half-time,” I quip. Thankfully there’s only five seconds left and we go in 1-0 up.

In the second half it’s more of the same. Birmingham look like they might have settled for survival like the Charlton of old. But we survive a clear penalty appeal when Upson handballs in the area.

On 67 minutes Cole finds Behrami who plays in Faubert on the right. The flying Madame Bovary apologist races to the line and plays in a great cross that Carlton bravely dives to head into the net. Yes! We are staying up!

Hmm. Maybe advocating a 25 per cent pay cut and undermining the manager works after all.

We’re almost comfortable for the rest of the night as Lee Bowyer is subbed and Birmingham blast the odd shot wide. Fraser looks at his lucky black leather gloves in a state of high karma and amid the faint hearts remarks that we still won the Burnley home game even if we did let three in after being 5-0 up.

The best aspect of the night is that Behrami is up and down the field like he used to. It’s his best game of the season and he gets stronger as the game goes on. Only three minutes added time and we’ve won!

For once we can celebrate in the Central (what still no microbrewery?) from the giddy heights of 14th place. Irons!