| Coventry City 3 v 2 Oxford United EFL Championship Friday, 16th August 2024 Kick-off 20:00 |  |
Dykes completes QPR's surprise Steel City redemption arc - Report Sunday, 18th Aug 2024 17:38 by Clive Whittingham Two nil down and circling the drain, QPR rallied terrifically in the second half, and overcame the stupidest of red cards for Jack Colback, to snatch a 2-2 from Sheff Utd on Saturday. There it is, through the dregs of hangover and curry sweats, soap and water reaching yesterday’s war wounds. That beautiful, painful sting. Awayday shins are back. It was quite a journey to get there, much of it spent with that sadly altogether more familiar sensation of standing behind a goal at the other end of the country wondering why on earth you’d bothered. Sheffield United’s woeful 2023/24 has been well documented. They needed a Premier League promotion just to stave off financial apocalypse in the first place and sold star players Sande Berge and Iliman Ndiaye the second it was achieved just to press home that situation. The Blades finished last in the Premier League with just 16 points – a further 16 adrift of safety. They won only three games of 38 played, scored just 35 goals in those games and conceded 104 for a -69 goal difference. They conceded eight against Newcastle, six to Arsenal, five against Arsenal, Burnley, Villa, Brighton twice and Newcastle, four against Man Utd and Burnley. THEN THE LARGE WOMEN AGAIN. At Bramall Lane they won two, drew four, lost 13, scored 19 and conceded 57. Wolves and Brentford were the only teams they beat at home, Luton their only away win, and they finished with seven straight defeats and no wins in the final 14 fixtures. Summer recruitment has been typically parachute payment punchy. This Enormous Centre Back Will Devour Us All Harry Souttar, QPR academy escapee Alfie Gilchrist, and Plymouth’s excellent goalkeeper Michael Cooper have all arrived this week along with Crystal Palace starlet Jesurun Rak-Sakyi, who QPR were interested in themselves until they heard the bidding started at £1m and eventually rose to £2m with £2m add ons amidst competition from Leeds JUST TO BORROW HIM FOR A BIT. Callum O’Hare has been re-teamed with his former Coventry partner in crime Gustavo Hamer. Kieffer Moore is the centre forward looking for a third promotion in four years. Alright lads, we’ve all had a drink. You don’t, however, lose games with the reckless abandon of Sheff Utd last season without accruing some mental baggage. There’s been high squad turnover, and they won 2-0 at Preston on opening night; but Preston haven’t scored for seven games en route to a third manager already this season, and there’s bound to be some fragility here if you scratch beneath the surface. Go out there, keep it tight, establish a foothold in the game, get a crowd used to being tortured by this abusive relationship all mumbly and grumbly, then build. Perhaps that memo got caught up in a spam filter somewhere along the way. QPR, with one opening day chastening by West Brom and a lucky escape from a poor display at Cambridge already under their belts, did the exact opposite. Wide open in shape and system, hopelessly idealistic and naïve with the ball, completely passive and devoid of aggression without it. They effectively walked out into the middle of the Bramall Lane pitch, dropped their drawers, bent over and gaped. Help yourselves lads. And help themselves Sheff Utd did. Callam O’Hare, playing off Moore in attack, ran amok in a traumatic opening quarter hour. Varane’s first slack bit of midfield play after two minutes set up a huge home overload with O’Hare at its heart and Steve Cook had to rescue his side with a monster challenge under Moore. A weak tackle by Varane followed by a failure to track might have allowed that O’Hare and Moore combination to score an opener minutes but for a strong intervention by captain Cook again. That reprieve lasted bare seconds as the home side swamped Dembele after a hospital pass by Dunne, Hamer ran off the back of Varane, O’Hare found him with a low pass, and he drilled a 20 yarder beyond Paul Nardi. A thick one nil, time still in single digits. A second was soon to follow with horrible inevitability. Uncle Albert, getting that sinking feeling again. QPR had actually been attacking down the left with Paal crossing towards Michy Frey, who’d started in attack after a goal in the cup on Tuesday. When that broke down the home team were able to flick it round the corner on the opposite side and spring O’Hare once more. Here you have to foul him. Trip him up, take the booking, get the team back in shape, disrupt the play. Varane bounced back off the former Coventry man embarrassingly and from then on Rangers were completely busted. Clarke-Salter might have done better with his positioning awaiting a low cross, Moore completely unmarked for his tap in at the back post, but you cannot be that open as an away team in a game like this and you can’t be as weak as Varane was in that duel. Just a quarter of an hour gone and it felt like QPR had effectively played their way out of contention. All the problems of the last few weeks in evidence again: way too passive, not aggressive enough, over powered and out-fought, too easy to score against. And, also, a good few of the themes we’d talked about in the match preview. The balance between idealism and pragmatism, Championship game smarts and prospects who look good on spreadsheets, was out of whack. At the front of the director’s box Christian Nourry swiped a frustrated arm in the air as QPR once again turned a ball into midfield straight back from whence it came towards the centre backs and goalkeeper. This wasn’t very game model at all. Varane was a very obvious early scapegoat, but all of these signings are going to take a degree of patience and time and asking him to go in there against Hamer, O’Hare et al in his first ever Championship start was a tall order. He wasn’t the only one either. The level, sadly, looked all too much for Alfie Lloyd down the left, failing to impact the attack and found wanting on defensive cover. Talk of development loans for the likes of Lloyd and Kolli, and a concessionary pick up of an old hand in the Isaac Hayden mould, is only likely to grow after the start to this game. Cifuentes admitted in post match he’d got the team selection wrong – and he had. For those of us who’ve stood in away ends for all too many QPR blowouts on the road, this was starting to have a very familiar Craven Cottage feel about it. Jake Clarke-Salter was somehow not only penalised but also booked for standing still while Callum O’Hare ran around him then heaved himself to the floor. How many before we head for light ales at “Champs” (where life’s winners go to drink)? Two minutes before half time Lucas Andersen appeared to stub his foot in the turf taking a corner, collapsed, and died. Things really going well at this point. Where had that team from the back end of last season gone? At the start of the second half the search party leader returned with glad tidings. Marti Cifuentes’ QPR had been located. Smyth replaced Andersen while debutant Karamoko Dembele, the only player with credit in the bank at this point of the performance, moved infield to play behind Frey from where he started to run the show. Varane was mercy killed, with Jack Colback bringing much needed nouse and strength to the middle of the park. Jimmy Dunne rampaging right back was here. Kenneth Paal looked much more like his old self. Rangers got on the front foot, got on the ball, played ten yards higher up the field, tackled opponents and generally showed a bit of pride and purpose in what they were doing. It’s only the Championship lads, don’t be afraid of it. An early goal helped swing the momentum pendulum. Field’s shot from one corner blocked behind for another taken by Dembele into the near post and flicked on beyond Adam Davies in the home goal by Dunne. Jack Robinson’s diligence and marking in such situations much as we remember it from his time in W12. Too busy pissballing about with dark arts and shirt pulling instead of just marking his man and competing for the headed ball. Pillock. The R’s had never lost on any of the previous six occasions Dunne had scored for them. They’d have to go some to maintain that record but, with the deficit halved, the performance transformed and the mood music around this city of human leagues and cold monkeys playing in an altogether different key, they had a shot at redemption. Dembele was everything we’d been told he would be, and more. To look at him, this shouldn’t work. Tiny little dot of a boy in a world where we have to lower sacrificial cattle into Harry Souttar's cage using a crane. He’ll be crushed to a bloody Pulp surely. Out of my way puny boy. The top of the ball is level with his kneecap for goodness sake, how’s he even going to kick it? Looks like he escaped from one of those U7 matches where they all follow the ball around in a cloud of dust and the slightly more developed lad who can actually lift it off the ground for a second or two is King Julien of Madagascar. And yet United couldn’t get the ball off him. Glued to his foot as he dribbled around, behind, in front of, and through one bamboozled opponent after another. Blink and he’s gone. Turns like a house fly and weighs about the same. Tots TV, sac magique. What fun. When he ran out of puff 20 minutes out from time, Rangers still trailing, the family of hope gathered around the bedside to discuss the ongoing status of the life support machine. Zan Celar immediately threatening from a corner, striking sweetly towards goal and incredibly unlucky to see it not only deflect but deflect to, rather than away from, the goalkeeper, persuaded them to give it five more minutes. Just as well, turns out Koki Saito is a Pandora’s box of wonder and excitement as well. Never knowingly under control, and yet never more than an inch from his foot, the Japanese magician’s manipulation of the ball is wholly unorthodox, completely exhilarating and dreamily electric. Sheff Utd stared at him like a punter watching a street hustler shifting three cups around. Where’s the ball? Wrong every time. Enjoy your migraine. Equaliser inducing too, surely? It felt inevitable. Cifuentes had changed the game once with a double sub, and then done so all over again. Chris Wilder, by contrast, sat on his hands – one change after 77, another after 85, despite a litany of riches on his bench and a team obviously slipping out of the contest. Here was that hangover from last season, that fragility we’d talked about, and all QPR had to do was tap it in. Just tap it in. Tap, tap, tap. Give it a little taperoo. Come on you R’s. Come on you R’s. What the Londoners decided to do instead was a bowel movement the size of the San Francisco earthquake of 1989 all over the white bed linen. What’s that noise? Oh, God, no. Michy Frey committed a daft foul on local Marvel universe villain Oli Arblaster down by the corner flag. Bit dim, but I quite liked Frey in this game so I was willing to give him a hall pass. Colback had the now traditional long, extenuated gob off to referee Anthony Backhouse, and was booked for dissent. They say the old ones are the best, but this one’s getting as tedious as Jim Davidson’s routine. Colback was booked 13 times last year, and four of those were for backchatting the officials. International Year of the Wally Brain. Anyway, no matter, let’s get on with he quiz. I don’t want to talk about Mr Spock. All I’ll say now is what I said then – look at his ears. QPR deal with the free kick. QPR go up the other end. QPR get another corner. QPR continue push for an equaliser. QPR bring on Lyndon Dykes. QPR fans behind the goal bang the drum. But, out of the corner of my eye, a flash of orange. Charging off in the opposite direction to everybody, Gentle Ben was heading for the craft services table. Noooooooooo Ben. Before Cifuentes could get a blow dart in him, Colback had sprayed the fourth official. Deep sigh. Backhouse was called to the scene. A second yellow for dissent in as many minutes. QPR now down to ten men. Not now Chester, daddy’s sad. Now, I like a swear as much as the next unimaginative beered up idiot, but are there actually enough swearing words in the English language to sum up the exasperation you feel as a supporter in thos situations? What’s German for motherfuckingshitcunt? Colback to a tee. Transformed the midfield when he came on, and then did that. His complaint, by all accounts, was not that Frey shouldn’t have been penalised but that a Sheff Utd player already on a booking was waving imaginary yellows around in front of the referee, which should have seen him sent off the other way. If it’s true, he’s got a point. Backhouse was rabidly inconsistent all day: Jake Clarke-Salter booked after just ten minutes for an obvious dive by O’Hare while other more serious fouls warranted barely a word on the run; Jack Robinson, immediately after Colback’s dissent dismissal, deliberately delaying the taking of a corner and then getting right up in the referees grill for a bit of an entitled shout and scream of his own with no card in return. But you cannot chase 40 yards across the field to scream at the fourth official while you’re on a card and I’m astonished that apparently needs explaining to a player of his experience. Don’t look at me like that news just came from Mars. Anyway, nice while it lasted. Go get all the “brave” “plucky” and “they’ll do alright this season” platitudes and we’ll head quietly back to the station. Hold that self-flagellation. There was to be one more twist in this tale. Two predictable protagonists, and one surprise guest. No shock to anybody who’d sat through the previous 85 minutes to see the hapless Robinson charging miles out of position to smash through the back of his own man, Harrison Burrows, under a long crossfield pass from Jake Clarke-Salter and take them both out of play. Nor that it was Koki Saito positioned perfectly in the vacated space and immaculate of touch and vision once the ball reached him unchallenged. The movement and hold of run from sub Lyndon Dykes, though? That was all new. His first time finish off his instep from 20 yards gave the keeper no chance at all. Ding dong, where did we find this lovely creature? And now Chris Wilder decided to start making substitutions.
If you’d been standing with us, you’d have had some view. Of Saito, through the goal net, cutting infield and choosing his pass like a professional footballer. Of Dykes, holding back to use the defender as a screen. Of the ball, diverted exquisitely off the inside of his foot. And of the shot, rolling just oh so perfectly straight towards us, goalkeeper not reaching it with a butterfly net. A goal you could celebrate long before it made it home. And celebrate we did. The ants in the colony crawled all over each other in honour of their queen. The fat fuck with the beard who’d spent the whole afternoon testiculating at pitch and away end from the main stand, to the obvious mortification of his young son sitting alongside, now sat in stony silence. Motionless, powerless. We see you. And the seat in front bit a meaty chunk out of my shin in its final act before giving way beneath the weight of too much takeaway and euphoria. The flesh remains there today, crisping up in the South Yorkshire sunshine. And I feel the sadomasochistic satisfaction of that sting in the shower once more. Awayday shins are back. So, for 45 minutes at least, were QPR. Links >>> Ratings and Reports >>> Message Board Match Thread Sheff Utd: Davies 6; Gilchrist 6 (Souttar 77, 6), Ahmedhodzic 6 (Brewster 90+1, -), Robinson 3, Burrows 5; Hamer 8, Souza 7 (Rak-Sakyi 90+1, -), Arblaster 6, Brooks 6 (Slimane 85, -); O’Hare 8 (Peck 85, -); Moore 7 Subs not used: Cooper, Marsh, McCallum, Trusty Goals: Hamer 6 (assisted O’Hare), Moore 13 (assisted Hamer) Yellow Cards: Souza 31 (foul), Hamer 72 (foul) QPR: Nardi 6; Dunne 7, Cook 7, Clarke-Salter 6, Paal 6; Varane 4 (Colback 46, 6), Field 5; Lloyd 4 (Saito 67, 8), Andersen 5 (Smyth 43, 7), Dembele 8 (Celar 68, 6); Frey 6 (Dykes 85, -) Subs not used: Santos, Dixon-Bonner, Morrison, Walsh Goals: Dunne 55 (assisted Dembele), Dykes 86 (assisted Saito) Red Cards: Colback 83 (two yellows) Yellow Cards: Clarke-Salter 11 (“foul”), Varane 45+1 (foul), Colback 80 (dissent), 83 (dissent) QPR Star Man – Karamoko Dembele 8 What have we got ourselves into here? Referee – Anthony Backhouse (Carlisle) 4 Colback can have no complaints, but there were some wild inconsistencies in this – not least Robinson being allowed to scream in the official’s face seconds after Colback had been sent off. The insistence that every, single, fucking set piece must now be preceded by this utterly pointless, performative warning of everybody from the warring centre backs to the ball boy behind the goal is typically needless, infuriating, bureaucratic bullshit dreamed up by the sort of dickless wonders who genuinely think four out of five fans want VAR in the game. Not an easy game to referee, but nowhere near as difficult as he made it look. Attendance 27,527 (1,112 QPR) How do you like them apples? If you enjoy LoftforWords, please consider supporting the site through a subscription to our Patreon or tip us via our PayPal account loftforwords@yahoo.co.uk. The Twitter/Threads @loftforwords Photo: Action Images Please report offensive, libellous or inappropriate posts by using the links provided.
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