Where once QPR feared to tread, now they have three Ashton Gate wins on the spin, and some of the football played in the first half of their latest triumph over Bristol City was for the ages.
Following Queens Park Rangers away from home in recent times has been like being married to Boris Johnson — occasional moments of what might pass for fun for some, traded off against months and months of stuff that makes you miserable. Sure, we’ll always have that holiday, that moment, that Luke Freeman goal at Aston Villa. But mostly it’s just him getting fucked in places he shouldn’t, and you knowing it’s happening, knowing it’s going to happen, and sticking around out of blind loyalty regardless.
In 2012/13, if you went to all 19 of QPR’s away league games, you’ll have seen them win twice. If you did the same in 2014/15 you’ll have seen them win twice again, and draw once, with 16 defeats out of 19. But those were in the Premier League, be fair Marge, for once in your life be fair. If you stuck with the Rangers following their most recent demotion to the Championship, things didn’t get a great deal better against the inferior opposition. In 2015/16, as a newly relegated Premier League team in receipt of parachute payments, QPR won four of their 23 Championship away matches under Chris Ramsey and Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink. The following year they won six. In that season Newcastle won the Championship with 14 away victories to their name — it had taken QPR two years to get to ten. They wouldn’t make it to 14 even if you included the following year either — in 2017/18, under Ian Holloway, the R’s won three of 23 away matches in the second tier. Once again, that year, Wolves won the title with 14 — QPR had spent three years getting to 13. If you followed the Hoops home and away over those four seasons you’d have seen 15 wins on the road from 88 trips. In 2018/19 Steve McClaren’s "team of men” managed five. Better than two of the previous three campaigns but still pretty rancid — three teams have been relegated since with the same total or more. Still, we'll always have Forest I guess. Now 20 away wins from 111 trains out of Euston if you’re counting. It’s worth adding that even when we won a promotion from this league, in 2013/14, we did so with eight away victories — the lowest total in the top seven, fewer than Bolton managed in fourteenth, and Birmingham got in twenty first — and the second half of the campaign was peppered with meek surrenders at Brighton, Sheff Wed, Blackburn and elsewhere. A flag was commissioned for the away end — We’re the Rangers, the Mighty Rangers, we never win away.
What few wins were managed, were often deep traumas in themselves. Thirty five minutes hanging grimly onto a 2-1 against the worst Bolton Wanderers side in living memory, Josh Magennis (he used to be a goalkeeper you know) looking like Eusebio, while you’ve got Ebere Eze in your team. Toni Leister prodding in a goal mouth scramble in a game at Reading that went on longer than the Queen’s funeral. Those 20 minutes of stoppage time we ground through in the Death Star Tesco that Coventry occasionally play their home games in. Even the wins, when they do come, can often feel like trying to shit out a championship size snooker table. More relief than joy at the end, more sweat down your back than most of the players, train beers more to get your heart rate down and soothe the anxiety than toast any kind of success. And those are the good bits. Mostly it’s trekking up to Wigan to go 2-0 down and then bring Matt Smith in to wallop balls at him for the last 20 minutes while the faithful sing about Akos Buszaky and Kevin Gallen. I look at people like me who go to QPR away games with the same sort of confused awe I do people who teach classes of vaping 14-year-olds in London secondary schools — you… choose to do this?
Even rarer than the wins, are the wins when QPR play well. Immediately you call to mind the Ebere Eze masterclass and ritual humiliation of Big Racist John at Villa Park (four and a half years ago); the Ebere Eze masterclass and succulent goal of the season contender at Stoke (just over three years ago); the Ebere Eze masterclass and face-off against Jarrod Bowen at Hull (just under three years ago). But these are unusual events, which you can tell by the dates, and the influence on them of a generational talent. What we’re not used to, but had a little taste of at Millwall pre-international break and would welcome further servings, is QPR going away, winning away, and playing well with it into the bargain. It’s a lot to ask I know, but I feel like we’ve collectively served our time now, and we’ve certainly got the players to do it.
When we do good, I use the green pen. When we do bad, I use the red pen. Saturday at Ashton Gate, a ground like St Andrew’s where we’re building a weirdly decent record relative to literally everywhere else on the planet, initially felt very much like ‘I won’t be needing this’. City, who previously relied on big money sales to keep the lights on here, have gone six transfer windows without receiving a fee, and that has resulted in some pretty dark times. But Nigel Pearson’s side is offering their fans a glint at the end of a tunnel this season, with England youth protégé and Football Focus host Alex Scott in midfield, and an attack that had scored more than any other team in the division. Andy Weimann, back from international duty disappointingly unscathed, had five goals in 12 appearances for three different clubs against Rangers prior to kick off. Our former charge Nahki Wells (his kids do love that zoo) has suddenly started to justify the ruinous contract City offered to pinch him from under our noses with five goals this season just as they’ve started picking him in the correct position/said contract is about to expire and he needs a new one. Even before he pulled his finger out, his winning goal for the Robins at Loftus Road last season was the fifth time he’d scored against us in 10 career appearances for City and Huddersfield Town. Not since St James’ Park 1993, when injury kept Les Ferdinand off the match coupon but not the QPR team sheet and a naïve away end bookie offered 12s when asked for a first goalscorer price, has there been quite such a run on the markets by an away following from W12 — emotional insurance bets all round.
Kenneth Paal got skinned easily and early, a cross hung up to the back post was headed down, Tim Copy and Paste Surname Here was on hand with a rescue. Back the ball came a second time, Jake Clarke Salter starting at centre back for the first time since the opening day at Blackburn, executed a clearance. Star boy Scott collected and tried a sighter from range, two yards wide of the top corner. Soon Iroegbunam was committing a bit of a daft foul on the corner of the penalty box and when City changed the routine of their free kick late it confused QPR enough for Vyner to get a free header on goal and force a really quite brilliant save out of Seny Dieng. He can often feel like a goalkeeper that excels in everything, including scoring goals himself, other than making saves, but this was really top draw from the Senegalese international — although, if you’d care to pause the replay at the point the free kick was taken, Vyner is one of a couple of players offside. It would sadly be another afternoon of officiating unfit for a professional sports league wishing to be taken seriously by the wider world.
But then the waiter arrived with our order, and drop intro justification. From the quarter hour point, through to half time, I honestly think you might have to journey back in mind to 2010/11 under Neil Warnock for a better QPR performance away from home. The R’s started to play. My how they started to play. Willock, Chair, Roberts. Johansen, Field, Iroegbunam. Roberts, Chair, Willock. And, of course, Paal and Laird. There is now, apparently, a bot that exists that can take every porn video you’ve watched for the last ten years, calibrate your tastes, and produce the perfect 30 minute film for you. Here was mine, played out in front of 2,300 QPR fans for them all to enjoy. Thank me later chaps, after you've passed me that moist towelette.
Ilias Chair went first, breaking through an offside trap that was wobbly to begin with an on fire by half time. He ran slightly too wide of the goal when one on one with Dan Bentley, narrowing the angle to the point where the keeper became favourite to save. That was nice, down the left. This was nicer, down the right. A minute later, Ethan Laird got motoring for the first time, combining with Tyler Roberts, carving the home flank apart, opening up space for a low cross that just, agonisingly, wouldn’t drop the right way of a hooped shirt in a crowded box. Barely a minute later still, Roberts again acting as a brilliant link man with his touch and passing accuracy and choice, found Willock who already had Johansen overlapping wide to his left to offer an option and open up space. Weimann's bizarre decision to pass Roberts the ball in the first place felt ill-advised at the time, and now Willock used the diversion to come back the other way and go looking for the far bottom corner, which he would have found but for fingertip intervention from Bentley onto the post. A save good enough to deserve better luck than it hitting him on the back of the bonce and deflecting straight into the path of Johansen who’d continued his run and was able with some simplicity to make it two in two away games after none in his previous 40 — amazing how good he looks when not playing through injury. Don’t cry too hard for Bentley, given his ridiculous performance at Loftus Road last season, even your standard house cat doesn’t get as many lives as he used up that day.
That was three great chances to score in three minutes. Bristol City, rightly to be fair to them, narked about the time it took QPR to get their arse back and allow the game to be restarted. In actual fact, they should have been grateful for the breathing space. Straight from the restart their chronic lack of speed and mobility at the back was exposed immediately again as Roberts muscled his way in and then accelerated away into the area before shooting over. One minute further still, and after a typically terrific searching ball across the field from Dieng, Willock was getting Paal in on an overlap and his firm, undefendable low cross was banged in at the back post by Roberts — a first league goal for the Leeds loanee, hook the whole thing to my veins and leave me be, another trip to iSmash with a broken phone on Sunday and do I give a single shiny shite about that?
Rangers kindly gave City five minutes to gather their thoughts. Then they doubled down with the night terrors. Absolutely fantastic play down the right side with Chris Willock, and with Ethan Laird, and with Tyler Roberts. City back peddling frantically, fear in their eyes. They didn’t have a single player who could live with any of those three, and another low cross should really have been converted by Ilias Chair. Roy Wegerle, should have made it five for Queens Park Rangers. It’s all very well saying they’re winning and all but Roy Wegerle should have made it five for Queens Park Rangers there and-EVERYBODYSHUTUP. My boy is on TV. Chair, keen to make amends, was already in again, and on his other foot this time tried a cuter finish across Bentley, beaten all ends up, but not bar-wide to the tune of about half a foot. Roberts’ touch and pass to get him in was immaculate. Likewise Laird’s subsequent pass for Willock, who did score, but was flagged offside — you look at that replay and explain that decision to me.
Look, was it all sunlit uplands? No. Leon Balugon’s huge intervention on a late City counter was exactly that, and Field the Shield had to swoop in and intervene straight away too. When the ball broke loose to City a third time the game looked up, and Rangers appeared to have run out of men, but Jake Clarke Salter sprang from nowhere to execute the best goal-saving block I’ve seen since Rob Dickie’s miracle at Hull at the start of last season. Tommy Conway thought he’d scored, and so did I. The decision to bring Clarke-Salter, who Beale is clearly in love with, back in despite two clean sheets in the prior two games without him, fully vindicated by a superb 60 minutes from him here.
That was half time and, honestly, fuck me. Not sure what I needed more, a cold shower or a cigarette. The spirit is willing but the flesh is spongy and bruised. Two nil it was, three nil it certainly should have been, four or five were within the margin of error for could.
Let’s do some chalkboard stuff while I wait for this thing to go down a bit. Bristol City lost centre back Nathan Baker, probably one of their top earners, certainly one of the better centre backs in this league, and a player I’d often admired as the sort I’d like us to sign, to retirement at 31 owing to concussion. Tomas Kalas, another big earner and superb middle defender at this level, hasn’t played yet this season. They staged a Bristol version of Mighty Hoopla in the summer when they nicked Kal Naismith from Luton on a free transfer - and anything that sets Nathan Jones off on one of his rabid, hypocritical beer shits about respect and what the other hobbits believe is the right and wrong way to go about your life in the Shire is content we’re absolutely here for — but Naismith was comfortably the worst out field player in both our games with Lutown last season and played like a fucking pit pony here. Best attack in the league, yes, but only Hull City have conceded more goals and my God could you see why.
Apart from the personnel, City played with a back three, and I’m very intrigued to see how teams get on trying this against us this season. Protect it with deep midfielders, or keep the wing backs from pushing on, then… perhaps. Stoke got it right a fortnight ago. But with this first iteration of Bealeball you face a choice: you either crowd the space in front of the penalty box to stop Illy and Willy running riot, ceding the wide areas to do so accepting that Paal and Laird will have time and space to do damage; or you go big and heavy out wide, if you think that shutting Laird and Paal out of games is key to starving that deadly duo of good ball. We’ve seen teams attempt both of those so far. Bristol City went with a third, less advisable, option of doing neither. They started with three recognised strikers on the field, Scott joining them from midfield, and Sykes and Dasilva piling on from the flanks. That left a leaden footed back three protected only by Joe Williams, in for Matty James and busier than a two-twatted hooker trying to protect what few were left behind him from the swarms of excellent young boys in front. They were simply overwhelmed back there, in numbers and ability. You wouldn’t invite Steve Evans to an all you can eat buffet at the Chouzhang Express without putting some seriously protective terms, conditions and protections in place, less you risk a ruinous carve up. That’s exactly what Pearson did here, and exactly what he got. Two nil was a fucking liberty.
Now I’ve gone really big and over the top and flowery on that because, as both regular readers know, very few things make me as happy as seeing QPR win, nothing makes me as happy as seeing QPR win and play like this, and I like to go big and over the top and flowery when it does happen because I’ll probably fork over 200 sheets to see us get bummed in the gob at Sheffield United on Tuesday night and then have to put that into hungover Wednesday words for you — which is much less fun. But, also, because I’m going to have a bit of a moan now — only a little one — and I don’t want that to overshadow what was a great performance, and result.
After half time, things were more of a chore. Tummy rumble, bowel grumble, here comes that snooker table again. You knew City would be better, because they could scarcely be worse, and they immediately introduced Antoine Semenyo, who’s seriously good, and stuck him up against Paal, who is about a quarter his size. They continued adding attackers as the half went on — Chris Martin (now 78% pastry) dropped by to see us again. Usual drill Chris, help yourself to the fridge but do try and leave the kids something for their lunches. You knew Rangers wouldn’t have it their own way to the extent they did from 15 to 45, because it would have finished 8-0 if they had, and that’s not something anybody does very often. But I was, nevertheless, disappointed with just how much, and how soon, we sat back in, and started pissing about with some of the most blatant and flagrant time wasting you’ll ever see. I get it, I do get it, I’m weighted way more towards cynical pragmatism than romantic idealism, but we were torching this lot before halftime, and I was disappointed we put the flamethrower down to quite the extent we did, as soon as we did.
The first ten minutes of the half, always crucial in these situations, passed by relatively incident free — another win high up the field by Roberts, having his best game for us, brought a deliberate pull back and yellow card three inches thick for Williams, who looked like a man in need of a good cuddle at this point. But on the hour Seny Dieng got away with a really poor goal kick — City should have made more of the attacking opportunity it presented them. Soon they were coming at us again, and Williams sliced a shot not a million miles past the top corner from the edge of the box. With every goal kick came a long, drawn out routine from Dieng that should have been punished with a yellow card hours and hours before the full time whistle. Despite the "take your time, take your time,” chants from the away end, it just felt so, so unnecessary. Unnecessary and - with the super Clarke-Salter soon replaced by Dunne, and Amos and Dozzell on from the bench soon for Iroegbunam and Johansen (brilliant again) - contributing to the idea Rangers were pretty much done, and really rather keen to get out of there and back on the bus, with all the time in the world left to play and only two goals the margin. Sure enough, Balogun got a ball caught under his feet at the near post and Wells swooped in with a shot so wild and wide of the target that it actually hit the former Rangers man square in the back and flew back the other way, past Dieng and into the net. He's been credited with it, and I get that it's a nice narrative, but it's no more his goal than mine.
Well, now you’ve got a fucking problem for yourselves haven’t you? Two one, the worst scoreline to protect in all of football, and not only half an hour of normal time left to hold onto that, but also an ever escalating amount of stoppage time, lengthening with every passing fake of a cramp, delay of a substitution, or ridiculous bullying of a piss weak referee into letting you all have an impromptu water break at the side of the pitch. As we know, because it’s been done to us in reverse with this referee, Jeremy Simpson doesn’t have the stones to do anything about this — it really needs a referee to just allow a team to take their throw in and get on with it while their opponents are all massed on the far side taking on water and instruction — but even he found the self belief within to add seven minutes to the end. Nine or ten would really have been fairer.
The goal just summed second half QPR up for me. A little bit careless, a little bit nervous, too focused on dark arts and seeing the game out, rather than getting on with a game they’d dominated before half time to such an extent no competent boxing referee would have allowed it to continue. Balogun passing a QPR free kick straight to Scott, rescuing the situation with a Hail Mary lunging tackle, then getting up and passing the ball to them a second time to spark the latest heart stopping attack, was sadly rather typical. When Jimmy Dunne took the risk of a pass back from the touchline, rather than doing the sensible thing and trying to take out one of the pesky seagulls hovering around the main stand, Dieng pisballed about with the thing long enough for Wells to close in and rob him for what looked like a catastrophic equaliser until Dieng bent over and picked the ball up. Standing two feet outside his box, with his whole body there, it looked farcically blatant from the other end to us, although replays and screenshots Bristol City fans are using on social media to prove it exactly that look less clear cut. Still, like our whole approach to the final third of this match, it just felt like such an unnecessary risk to take.
More annoying still, on the occasions we did get the ball down and play, and go for their throat, City were clearly and obviously still wholly vulnerable to us whichever way we went about it. Willock, a costume of a man by this stage, was still capable of taking on, and beating, three players at once when the ball was worked to him. His Taarabt-style shimmy and roll into the path of Dozzell didn’t quite produce the Shaun Wright-Phillips-Stamford Bridge moment the away end craved, with Dozzell’s left foot curler beating Bentley but flashing an inch wide of the bottom corner.
Still, it’s not like City threatened greatly, or that Dieng had (m)any saves to make. Lyndon Dykes’ decent cameo from the bench, after a week of sickness bug, did much to get QPR up the field and keep the wolf from the door. Han Noah Massengo has always played well against us, but when he came on here he got booked within ten second and spent his entire time on the pitch giving daft free kicks away that allowed the time to tick away further. Perhaps I’m just coloured by my pessimistic outlook, standing there in that away end expecting us to fuck it up, because I’ve stood there in so many away ends watching us fuck it up so often for so long. QPR achieve things, win games, secure promotions, when they defy that stereotype, and the class of 2022 did that here. That the remaining time, and extended stoppage, drifted by so relatively incident free was thanks in large part to the work of Sam Field, who provided all that defensive screening and protection that City had sadly lacked in the first half, while playing and passing the ball intelligently throughout, keeping possession and moving the team around the field when some others had started to panic and/or tire and give it away all too readily. He was wonderful here.
As, for half an hour in the first half at least, were we. It’s a team without depth, without a decent centre forward, and with demons that come in the QPR welcome pack anyway, even without the baggage of how last season nosedived. But it’s a team with some serious talent in it, that can do immense damage to teams at this level ill-prepared to face it, with a bright and creative young coach playing attractive and forward thinking football. It’s a team with half a chance, and one worth your time and precious, declining resources if you’re able. Those who battled the standard British clusterfuck down the M4 corridor on Saturday afternoon certainly didn’t regret it come five o’clock.
Links >>> Ratings and Reports >>> Message Board Match Thread
City: Bentley 6; Vyner 4, Naismith 3, Atkinson 4 (Martin 66, 5); Sykes 5 (Wilson 74, 6), Williams 5 (Massengo 74, 4), Scott 6, Dasilva 5; Weimann 5 (King 74, 6), Conway 6 (Semenyo 46, 7), Wells 7
Subs not used: O’Leary, Tanner
Goals: Balogun own goal 61 (assisted Wells)
Bookings: Williams 53 (foul), Massengo 76 (foul), Scott 90+5 (dissent)
QPR: Dieng 7; Laird 7, Balogun 6, Clarke-Salter 8 (Dunne 63, 6), Paal 8 (Kakay 85, -); Field 8, Iroegbunam 6 (Amos 70, 6), Johansen 8 (Dozzell 70, 6); Chair 7 (Dykes 85, -), Willock 7, Roberts 8
Subs not used: Archer, Adomah
Goals: Johansen 19 (assisted Willock), Roberts 22 (assisted Paal)
Bookings: Amos 86 (delaying restart)
QPR Star Man — Field the Shield 8 Fed intelligent ball to the talented front players who did all the damage in the first half, then provided an impeccably placed screen to the defence during the backs-to-the-wall effort in the second. In the right place at the right time so spookily often I'd swear he'd had an advance review copy of the game on tape. Would probably have been Clarke-Salter had he stayed on longer. Johansen who was terrific and scored is a great shout, likewise Roberts. Paal, who they tried and failed to physically dominate second half, and got a nice assist. No wrong answers here really.
Referee — Jeremy Simpson (Lancashire) 5 The big decision in the game is the Dieng handball, which looked a laughably bad call at the time but the more I see of it… I don’t know, I just think this guy sums up EFL refereeing and the overall standard of it really well. First half, channel ball, Willock in behind, beaten defender knows he’s in the shit, dives over his back — free kick Bristol City. Ok, fine, if that’s the standard we’re setting, let’s see. Two minutes later, channel ball at the other end, Bristol City player in behind Balogun, QPR man knows he’s in the shit, gets a little push in the back, dives — no free kick. And that happens over and over and over again through games with this guy. Something that’s a free kick worthy of a yellow card one minute, is play on the next. There isn’t any one thing you can particularly pin down that he’s particularly hot or lenient on, because one minute he thinks one thing, and the next he completely contradicts himself. At one point he interrupted a City attack down the left, where they’d got Dasilva one on one with Laird, to bring them back for a foul by Iroegbunam on halfway — a free kick 15 yards further back than where they’d got to. Oh, he’s done that because he’s going to book him, thinks I. Then he doesn’t. As ever, weekly complaint, this time us as the protagonists: waving your arms around in the air at a goalkeeper taking the piss, and holding out a flat palm to prevent the taking of a throw in because the opposition are all over the other side having a drink, doth not a clampdown on timewasting make. Sigh. Perhaps I’m being mean. I just think if I gave you a pencil and paper and asked you to draw me a picture of an EFL referee in 2022 it would look, behave, run and make decisions exactly like this one.
Attendance — 21,665 (2,383 QPR) Love how they’ve developed this ground, love the city as a whole, one of my favourite awaydays. That was tempered heavily by the lack of rail services, and being the designated driver on a day when the M4 was the seventh circle of hell, and that 2,383 QPR fans battled through all of that to be there regardless is fantastic.
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.
Pictures — Action Images
The Twitter @loftforwords