QPR got their first win in six, with a last minute Luke Amos/Jordan Thorniley goal against Blackpool despite playing the whole second half with ten men.
These days, these games, start like any other. You get up, you get dressed, you do your day and you live your life as you would any other matchday, as you have a thousand times before. You eat your lunch where you always eat it, you work as you always work, you pre-match drink the same drink in the same pub, and you walk up Loftus Road the same way at the same time. You’ll have thoughts and hopes and fears about the game, and sometimes you’ll go home elated and others you’ll be disappointed. You’ve done this so many times, because this is your club and this is what you do, that scores of instantly forgettable games, often against Port Vale, can all blend into one and get lost. Sometimes, though, you’re walking into a classic that you’ll be talking about for years — Kenny Sansom through the rain putting Arsenal out of the cup, champions-elect Leeds smashed-up 4-1, Samuel Di Carmine in the snow, Luke Freeman writes the theme tune and sings the theme tune... Sometimes it’s one of those nights, under the lights, at Loftus Road, and the beauty of it is you’ve absolutely no idea it’s coming when you walk in there.
This day, and game, blossomed from quiet beginnings. Queens Park Rangers hadn’t won in five, not moving anywhere on the league ladder but spending a potentially useful game in hand and allowing rivals above and below to further their causes. Sheff Utd, Huddersfield and Middlesbrough have advanced their positions aggressively. Warbs Warburton responded to the form and fitness of his three senior strikers by not selecting any of them. With the back three as you would expect, and Moses Odubajo covering Lee Wallace’s injury, Illy and Willy were left to their own devices in attack with Jeff Hendrick, Stefan Johansen and Sam Field the centre-field coagulant. From trying to play Fulham away with a central midfield of one, now here QPR were taking on Blackpool at home with one of five. It’s a bold strategy Cotton and let’s see if it works out for him.
Blackpool were noisily backed and in decent touch, their goal of Championship consolidation after last year’s promotion stylishly achieved and beaten only once in the prior six games — and that by an extraordinary late two-goal salvo from second placed Bournemouth who they’d looked all set to scalp. Put the guitar down Mark Knopfler, saucer-eyed local hero Richard Keogh was out with a sore brain. Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve former parish resident Josh Bowler impressed wide right. They looked half decent, and they’d brought a drum.
Initially, stalemate and deadlock. This was going to be a long haul red-eye. Willock’s seventh minute speculator deflected into a comfortable save for Danny Grimshaw. Some pisballing about at the back and a quick panic from Seny Dieng set in chain a series of Blackpool probes, incorrect referee guesses, and finally a sound piece of defence from Albert Adomah to kill the whole thing off. His defensive game night and day, chalk and cheese, from the shambles of last week’s trip to Lettem All Come Down To The Den. Dieng, bar that moment, really rather flawless and making such a difference to the team with his ability to command all four corners of his penalty box high in the air. At one stage a rogue Blackpool coach was spotted lurking in the shadows on the Ellerslie Road side of the ground, sniffed out and chased off by Gavin Ward the wonderhound.
Then, an actual goal. Chair’s inswinging, right-sided corner turned left exactly at the moment he desired, and Grimshaw had to palm the danger behind. Ward spent so long chatting so much irrelevant shit to so many people in the penalty box prior to the second delivery I thought I’d stumbled into some fucking hideous industry cocktail party by mistake, and the obligatory soft free kick to the defensive team for some vague hint at a pushing offence or other seemed inevitable. You couldn’t fault the delivery from Johansen, and Jimmy Dunne’s backward step worked enough space for him to head home a third goal of the season with relative ease.
Confidence. Crowd. Atmosphere. What is this sorcery? Rangers are back, Rangers are back, hello. Hello. Still a little fragile naturally, and still not buzzing enough to threaten from a direct free kick on the edge of the area eight minutes before half time (Chair and Stef overcomplicating things, maybe they should give Yoann Barbet a go at those) but a good deal better than it’s been since the demolition of Reading. Now relax into it, shift through the gears, let them do the chasing, pick off the space behind them, win the game, Winchester, cold pint, blow over. Dion Sanderson was then red carded. International Year of the Wally Brain. Initially, brilliant defending, strong and determined, blasting through Reece James (not that one) and carrying the ball away to sanctuary. The foul on him was rotten — a thick yellow. Standing up and headbutting him… lostforwords.co.uk. Provocation - fair enough. Young lad, everybody makes mistakes, red mist, hot head — mitigation. A football headbutt, rather than something the people of Glasgow may greet you with — sure. But in the context of the game, and the season, and the situation, five minutes before half time, one of the more braindead things you’ll see. If you are going to do it, and I really wouldn’t advise you do, maybe Tina Turner’s hair circa 1987 isn’t the one for you. The mane swayed with the jerk of the neck. Even Gavin Ward notices things like that.
Johansen’s perfect free kick in first half stoppage time, somehow not converted from close range by unmarked Barbet, felt like something else accident investigators would refer to in their reports later.
Single goal lead, ten men, Willock into the bath with Dion, Chair elected as "target man”, it was eyes down look in for the longest of long nights. Those potatoes have been in the frier. The first two minutes of the second half took two hours, and there felt no possible way Rangers would be able to do that for a whole half. Blackpool brought on Gary Madine and loaded the cannons. Dominic Ball, one minute of league action since November 24, was summoned for the vacant right centre back position and attended the interview in a tuxedo.
Madine’s header on 53 minutes seemed certain to level the scores until Dieng got across and made a big camera save. That was part of a prolonged and exhausting Blackpool press that lasted ten minutes or more, and when the goalkeeper then tried to give his team a breather with some flagrant time wasting he was carded immediately. Saints be praised, finally, a referee taking decisive action over clock running, at a point in the game when the punishment meant something and would alter behaviour. All season, all season long, I’ve bitched and moaned and whined about the complete inaction and complicity of officials in this blite on our game, and finally here was Gavin Ward doing something about it. Strange though, I remember a referee looking very much like Gavin Ward, and sharing the same name, subjecting us to a testicle-aching 45 minutes of exaggerated hand waving, watch pointing, arm swinging and complete and utter lack of any affirmative or effective action whatsoever while Barnsley’s Brad Collins did everything bar lay out a fucking picnic blanket and serve drinks at that end of the ground when we were chasing down a deficit against them back in August, and now here was this Mr Hard Arse On Time Wasting doppleganger chucking cards around before the hour. You can be incompetent as a referee, you only have to sit through a few minutes of this season’s Championship to know that, but you cannot be unfair.
But with injustice, and a narrow lead, and a lofty league table position, and backs-to-the-wall, and time ticking along, comes engagement and encouragement and noise and atmosphere. Loftus Road started to hum. Warburton’s blue army. Adomah’s wonderful recovery on the hour set Hendrick away and he fed Chair for a shot saved. Warburton’s blue army. Down the other side, Moses Odubajo was having his best game for the club a week and a half on from his worst, and his clever win of a goal kick from a difficult situation brought the crowd into it more. Warburton’s blue army. Luke Amos came on for Stef, immediately gave the ball away, fought to win it back, and committed a thick yellow card foul. Warburton’s blue army. You couldn’t help but wonder what happened to that QPR team from August, which went down to ten men at Middlesbrough for the entire second half and continued playing and attacking as normal for a 3-2 win. Here the ambition was surrendered entirely. But it was working. Warburton’s blue army. Volume. Belief. Grain of sand by grain of sand, getting there, getting there all of the time, from 15 minutes to 14 and 13 and 12. They couldn’t do it could they? They could. They were doing it. Sam Field was monstrous, all over the pitch, 11 turnovers of possession in QPR’s favour secured by him alone, heat map burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Warburton’s blue army. Blackpool’s third corner of three was so grossly overhit it landed in the front row of the stand on the far side to rapturous applause. It is, as Joe Hylton likes to yell in the Crown, fucking happening.
And then Jimmy Dunne missed his kick on the edge of the box, just as he had against Middlesbrough, and Josh Bowler improvised a bouncing bomb into the top corner, just as Dael Fry had done with the same chance. Pissflaps. Shoot me in the face with a massive gun.
Gutting. Just gutting. The air rushed out of the place at such a gust Big Jet TV turned up outside to film. All that work, all that effort, all that energy. Sheff Utd, winning again. Huddersfield, winning again. Social media, loading a new barrel of bile to the pump. In 48 hours’ time this tired rabble would head to Blackburn, where we haven’t won in 20 years, on a winless run of six, confidence shattered, legs aching. And who knew what the final eight minutes had in store for us? A well attended counter attack off a lesser-spotted QPR corner dribbled wide off Owen Dale’s cross. Madine’s miss, a minute later, off Lawrence-Gabriel’s low cut back, was criminal. You’d have scored it yourself. Dean Coney would have scored it. QPR, now, hanging on for a point, which was a shit result. Savage, savage amusement. Stupid, stupid game. Sodding, bloody football club.
When the going was good, way back in January, Warbs Warburton made a point of mentioning the unheralded contribution of his bit-part players. George Thomas had a nice cameo at Coventry, Luke Amos impressed against Reading, Dom Ball trains better than anybody else at the club whether he’s playing or not. These are the people you need in successful teams, seasons and cultures. Contributing however they can, not mithering at the back of the bitter bus. Shepherd’s Bush Fringe was about to take to the stage.
Ball had been magnificent backing up Field’s monumental midfield effort. To have played so little football over the winter, and just step in here out of position in that situation and play like that… what a human. Big silly grin on his face, there was the usual yellow card and blow dart for an attack on the kraft service table. NO DOM. Odubajo’s composure, taking the time to bring the ball down and pass it having outfoxed Bowler, rather than heave it off to wherever it landed, crowned his personal redemption. Thomas, on for the exhausted Chair, surprised Pool with his pace and ambition. Despite the numerical disadvantage, his run in behind and decision to go for goal rather than the corner got him one v one with Casey who started frantically looking over his shoulder wondering why nobody else was home — as well he might. Thomas whipped a ball into the near post, where Luke Amos drove in with Jordan Thorniley, and between them dispatched the ball into the bottom corner. Kif, I have made it with a woman, inform the men.
That one is gone. A victory for Queens Park Rangers. On an unbelievable night when they lost their lead, and now they win it. The crowd comes back to insane life. How do you explain it? Crazy. Just plain crazy. Thomas and Amos mobbed at home plate.
How can you not be romantic about baseball?
I can’t recall seeing Mark Warburton this animated, this raucous in his celebrations. His post match interview was fascinating. Even Neil Banfield stood up. The four minutes of stoppage time was agonising, and Blackpool were treated to the biggest nonsense of a free kick you’ll ever see down by the corner flag and invited to put a final ball into the red zone and hunt for another equaliser. It was never coming. It was written. We know that now. I wish somebody had told me at the time. The roar of the crowd rolled down the Westway. From desperately looking for a hole to crawl in and die, to a packed Crown and Sceptre cheersing a loud You R’s into the night. From drinking to forget, to drinking to remember. The temptation is to say it’s a big win — it looked it, felt it, sounded it and it lifted the supposedly out of form and faltering Rangers to third in the league. We’ll only know how much it matters, if at all, come May. For now it’s about the moment. Seeing that pass, seeing Thomas run after it, "offside no?”, no, watching that cross go in, realising immediately we’re going to win, seeing the net bulge, seeing the keeper head drop, hearing the noise. Hearing the noise. I couldn’t describe it to you. It does strange things to rational people. Something to me, something deep inside. Rangers had danced threw the fire, and caught their flame.
They sneak up on you these nights, these games, these players, this club. Sometimes it’s a long time between drinks. But you hang around the bar just in case it is indeed one of those nights, under the lights, at Loftus Road.
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QPR: Dieng 7; Adomah 7, Sanderson 4, Dunne 7, Barbet 7, Odubajo 8; Hendrick 7, Field 8 Johansen 7 (Amos 67, 7); Chair 7 (Thomas 83, -), Willock 6 (Ball 45, 8)
Subs not used: Austin, Dozzell, Gray, Marshall
Goals: Dunne 31 (assisted Johansen), Amos 89 (assisted Thomas)
Red Cards: Sanderson 40 (violent conduct)
Yellow Cards: Dieng 58 (time wasting), Ball 70 (NO DOM), Sam Field 90+3 (retaliation)
Blackpool: Grimshaw 6; Lawrence-Gabriel 6, Sterling 7, Casey 6, Thorniley 6, James 5 (Madine 45, 4); Bowler 7, Connolly 6, Dougall 6, Hamilton 5 (Dale 66, 6); Lavery 5 (Yates 75, 5)
Subs not used: Stewart, Moore, Robson, Kirk
Goals: Bowler 82 (assisted Connolly)
Yellow Cards: James 40 (foul), Bowler 90+2 (foul)
QPR Star Man — Sam Field 8 The proverbial every-blade-of-grass central midfield performance, integral to the rear-guard effort that saw the job through. Run close by Moses Odubajo, following his worst performance for the club with his best here, and Dom Ball who came into an unfamiliar role after weeks of inaction and was absolutely everything we needed him to be.
Referee — Gavin Ward (Surrey) 5 Difficult one to mark. The sending off is obviously the only decision to give there, all on Sanderson. The Seny Dieng yellow card for time wasting was also justified and was in time to change the behaviour which is what I’ve been bitching and moaning about all year, and yet came with an immense amount of frustration that we sat through that whole second half against Barnsley here with the goalkeeper taking the absolute piss while Ward waved his arms around solving nothing but now suddenly he’s all proactive over clock running. There were a series of incredibly soft free kicks awarded towards the end, particularly the one under G Block that allowed Pool to whip a dangerous late cross over where the striker literally just fell over onto the ball and demanded he be rewarded for it. I don’t know, really — five?
Attendance — 12,042 (753 away) See how we can help?
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