Chris Willock and the outstanding Stefan Johansen were both on the scoresheet as QPR won comfortably away at Millwall on Wednesday night.
My happy place is a moveable feast. Frequently it’s four rows off the front of Loftus Road’s F Block, or round the corner in the Crown and Sceptre surrounded by the best people. But three weeks back it was in Watford, stamping up and down on my mobile telecommunications device after Albert Adomah had scored. Over the years it’s been in Newcastle for a last minute Jan Stejskal penalty save or Ciaran Clark own goal, it’s been in Manchester for Jamie Pollock’s nadir, Grimsby for that Eric Sabin moment, Southampton for "and your bird’s a slag”, Norwich for Big Devon White lolloping through on goal in front of us, Hillsborough for Gallen and Furs and even Wembley Stadium with Bobby Zamora.
The happy place is a fluid thing. I trek around the country looking for it, often without a sighting for weeks, like a really slow episode of Frost. Then, suddenly, out of nothing, it appears, and I’m there, and I grab at it and feel it and jump around in it and feel all warm and benevolent. My round, drinks for all. It gives me life. And in the morning it’s all gone, like The Snowman. Was it all a dream? Only the hangover to tell me it was real, and a £120 VAT receipt from iSmash. Where are we going next to try and find it again?
Tonight, my happy place is here, and to be honest, I’m as surprised as you. To my left, a group of junior school-age children behaving like extras from Green Street, an advert for a timber yard, a timber yard, and a railway line. To my right, an advert for a timber yard, a car park, a timber yard, and another railway line going in a very slightly different direction. Ahead of me a football pitch, a stand bearing the name of a road Christened in honour of an icy wind, and an incinerator where we set fire to the shit we’re not tipping into the sea so the good people of Peckham Rye can breathe in all the sweet goodness that comes from within. They built a football ground here in 1994 and QPR have won once upon it since — judging by their efforts on our last happy place hunt in deepest, darkest Swansea, they won’t be improving on that total tonight.
How wrong can you be? Down below me, QPR are putting on a show. Scoring the sort of stupid goals from quickly taken corners the defenders haven’t noticed that we usually concede. Passing and moving and ducking and diving and dominating thoroughly in a way that’s more often done to us. It's a proper performance. Two nil up and cruising more than Jane McDonald, this isn’t even arm’s length stuff — QPR are streets and streets better than Millwall. On the sideline, Gary Rowett knows this very well indeed, and is in the middle of a complete head loss. Why, he wants to know, are the QPR substitutes not being made to leave the field at the nearest point, as per the new rules? Referee Tim Robinson explains why it’s Millwall’s own fault — the locals are pelting them with wood and bits of old boat so it's not safe for them to do so. Robinson hands Rowett a rivet to prove the point. I played 18 holes of golf in a little Spanish fishing town called Roquetas de Mar on a day touching 40 degrees of heat many years ago, and afterwards the boy in the clubhouse gave me a lager in a frosty glass from the freezer — it was half as delicious as this. I can see, from the away end, the vein on the side of Rowett’s head, pulsating to an enormous size - you could solve the south east’s housing crisis in one fell swoop with a new garden city on that real estate. Robinson, in fairness, adds eight minutes. Add 88, I could stay here all night. Tonight, the happy place is Bermondsey. Who ever knew?
It wasn’t immediately apparent that it would be so. Initially, trouble at mill — Rob Dickie has become distracted by a butterfly and wandered off. Leon Balogun, ex Glasgow Rangers, a magnificent football club, comes in for a debut after a pick up from the lost and found bucket at the end of the transfer window — he is a million years old. Aston Villa loanee Tim Iroegbunam (pray for Nick London) is in from the start after a cameo from the bench at Swansea — he is a gangly child. It’s Illy and Willy off Tyler Roberts with Lyndon Dykes’ Miss of the Season Competition cancelled to clear way for the rolling news coverage, it’s live, and it’s going wrong almost immediately.
Problems after two minutes. Balogun looks a little shambly, as you would without a start since May 21, and Beardy Bradshaw is trying his luck with a shot of sorts which Seny Dieng shouldn’t need two attempts to gather but does. Rangers are a little panicked, a bit hectic. They’re giving the ball away as if they’ve got a bet on. It’s all a bit much for Iroegbunam, and he’s lucky Stefan Johansen is around to babysit his various possession concessions, but he grows into the match later on after a delightful slalom between two tacklers. For it all, the R’s should lead after five minutes with brilliance from Willock, Ethan Laird joining the attack as we’re now accustomed to, Bialkowski keen to get his bi-annual treat for QPR in at the first possible opportunity, and Roberts somehow heading a soft rebound wide of an empty goal from six yards.
Wawll have a plan. Leeds loanee Jamie Shackleton has been picked at right wing back ahead of Danny McNamara as punishment for those saucy pics he was sending our way over the summer. Callum Styles, who saw the difference becoming Chilean made to Ben Brereton and is now trying his hand at being Hungarian, is doing the same down the left. Bradshaw has big money summer capture Zian Flemming to his right (and heading righter) and a quick shuffle of letters away from a belting surname Andreas Voglsammer to his left (and heading lefter). They’re all heading very purposefully in the direction of QPR’s full backs, who are both many things to many people, but are also rather small. This is it. This is the gameplan. QPR have little full backs, we’re going to drag the play all the way over to this side of the pitch and then, when they least expect it (or, actually, every single time we get it) we’re going to switch the fucker, high in the air, all the way across the pitch, right in on top of the little bastards. In Gary Rowett land, this counts as nuance. Like spitting on it and calling it foreplay.
The plan has two very fundamental problems. The first — Millwall aren’t very good at it. What few crossfield balls that don’t sail embarrassingly high and wide of the target and straight into the side stands, Styles and Shackleton frequently have to chase back and forth ten or 15 yards away from where they’d ideally have liked to receive them to try and keep in and recycle possession. By this time, QPR are back and set. It’s chimps and typewriters and Shakespeare stuff, except I reckon, with the amount of training professional footballers get, a chimp would pick this up faster than this lot have. The locals quickly start to have a bit of a moan. The second — QPR’s tiny full backs are Ethan Laird, who bounces more than he walks, and Paal Parker, who it turns out has a leap as high as the sort of aerial platforms they use to tackle fires at plastics factories.
There’s a particularly delicious moment 20 minutes in where Roberts goes over looking for a cheap free kick and doesn’t get it, then Rangers rather stand off Styles and allow him to cross too easily, resulting in a ball accelerating and dipping down towards the back post where Flemming is now arriving wide-eyed at the sort of speed and purpose express trains used to do when we had express trains in this country. It's a goal, all ends up, until Paal doubles his body height with a leap of immaculate poise and timing, flicks the ball away for a throw in, lands on his wheels, pulls over and says ‘what you worried about?’ Flemming has a long throw, also, but he has to wander onto the pitch a bit to get it away, and even with the lino allowing that it’s not causing much damage — Balugon and Dunne are growing into a dominant display. All of this became a theme for the night. Paal was faultless. What a find we may have for ourselves here.
With all of that, the R’s start to settle and take the thing over. Laird's heat map is closer to the Millwall goal than Bialkowski's. Chair drove well on 12 and found him intelligently — they win the game’s first corner, and waste it. Two minutes later Laird takes things into his own hands and picks out Roberts with a cut back — his shot sets off in pursuit of Kerry Dixon’s penalty. Chair tried from range later on, Bialkowski fumbled it a bit when he should have been able to catch it in his teeth — maybe swat it aside with your QPR season ticket next time mate? There’s another deep dive to the back post and another immaculate clearing header from Paal to bring us into a half time break upon which Millwall, rather randomly, stick Mellow Magic on the public address system for 15 minutes to really get the place going.
Rangers are unlucky Stefan Johansen falls over when he does, right at the start of the second half, creating hitherto unheralded amounts of space through the middle of his team. Bradshaw blasts that subsequent chance over the bar. Billy Mitchell (beef wiv Phil) rather likes the look of that and follows suit soon after.
If you want a goal scored from outside the penalty box guys, I know a man that can. QPR are moving through the thirds slickly towards him now — this absolutely is not the time for Miiiiiiiiiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lads, you’ve had a mare there. Tyler Roberts knows him too. I felt he could, perhaps should, have done a little bit more last night, but finally asserting himself into proceedings with a bit of purpose he carries play in from the left and hands off to Chair, who’s been involved in this move once already, and now looks immediately for his little mate. One hip swivel and touch out of feet later and the latest 20 yarder is flying off his toe end and into the bottom corner right under the feet of a crowd of wellwishers. Six of QPR’s 14 this season are from outside the area — stick that in your xG and light it up. Five in six now for the increasingly out of hand, outstandingly talented Willock. Rangers hadn’t lost on any of the previous 14 occasions he’d scored for them and they weren’t about to lose here either. One niiiiiiiiiiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll.
Rowett’s new plan is even worse than the last. Here comes Benick Afobe. As mobile as aforementioned incinerator and about as useful as most of the stuff they sling in it. He’s soon planting a free header 50 feet wide from the centre of the penalty box. Jesus H Christ.
QPR start to shithouse a bit. Laird collapses with nobody around him which immediately makes me think our old ACL curse is going to rob us of Kyle Walker MkII for a prolonged period, but really he’s just been done and is trying to get the game stopped, which he does. I wish we wouldn’t, truly. Partly because I want to see it eradicated from the sport entirely, but mainly because there was no need. Millwall were spent, QPR were streets better, there was a second goal here for the snaffling never mind the bloody clock. A point emphasised when a routine corner kick was defended by the home team through the medium of turning their backs to the ball as one and ambling out to the edge of the box waiting for some players to arrive for them to mark, not realising that if Ilias Chair just passes the ball to Stefan Johansen he can probably score from there without involving a third party. This he duly does. It’s a goal of embarrassing simplicity, the sort a team concedes when it might be perceived to have given up on its manager a bit. An awful lot of pointing, not a lot of doing. I doubt their commitment to cakes. It’s the sort of goal QPR usually concede. And it’s finished the game. QPR have never lost a game after the changing of a British monarch, and they're not about to here.
If you needed any further confirmation that it’s QPR’s night, when Millwall do finally get one past Seny Dieng, Laird is on the line to clear, and when that rebound finds the feet of their best player Flemming, he too gets one past the keeper only for it to come back into play off the underside of the bar. Stop it. A first clean sheet in ten games this season, only the third shut out this team has managed in 29 games going back to January - this was the only slice of luck they needed to get it, and it was richly deserved.
Robinson adds eight minutes and plays nearly ten. Absolutely fair enough given the issues with the subs, the play acting, the time wasting, and the injuries. Just wish this was applied consistently across Championship games — I’m still bitter about the four added to the end of the Blackpool defeat. As it turns out, he could have played two or three times that. Things are so comfortable for Rangers they even give a rare run out to Macauley Bonne among a plethora of clock running subs, and he’s barely an inch too small to head home a late cross into the box for what would have been a picture perfect third. Not that there would have been many left as witnesses. If Millwall concede a goal and there isn’t a Millwall fan there to see it, do they concede a goal at all? One to ponder while we await release into the night. Coming out of our cage, doing just fine.
Mick Beale says his QPR are still working out what sort of a team they want to be. Be like this, and that would be a very happy place indeed.
Links >>> Message Board Match Thread >>> Message Board Match Thread
Millwall: Bialkowski 5; Shackleton 6, Cresswell 4, Cooper 5, Wallace 5, Styles 6 (Malone 77, 5); Mitchell 5, Saville 5 (Honeyman 77, 6), Voglsammer 5 (Burey 62, 5); Flemming 7, Bradshaw 6 (Afobe 62, 3)
Subs not used: Long, McNamara, Evans
QPR: Dieng 6; Laird 7, Balogun 7, Dunne 7, Paal 8 (Kakay 90+6, -); Johansen 8, Field 6, Iroegbunam 6 (Bonne 85, -); Chair 7 (Adomah 85, -), Willock 7 (Dozzell 78, 6), Roberts 5 (Dykes 78, 6)
Subs not used: Archer, Masterson
Goals: Willock 54 (assisted Chair), Johansen 71 (assisted Chair)
QPR Star Man — Stefan Johansen 8 Really tough choice between him and Kenneth Paal, with Laird once more not a million miles behind them. This team really has been revolutionised by having two full backs like this, Paal gets better every week, and Millwall’s deliberate targeting of his lack of height on switch balls and back post crosses backfired horribly when he won every header with a Paul Parker-style leap and immaculate timing. But Johansen not only scored a killer second, he also held the midfield together through a tricky start to the game and babysat Iroegbunam through his early wobbles and possession concession, so he nudges ahead. If we had a ten day gap between games all the time this is what you would get from him, if he could still do it at this level three times a week he wouldn’t be playing for us.
Referee — Tim Robinson (Sussex) 7 Pretty decent. A couple of times players fell over and grabbed hold of the ball trying to buy a free kick, Tyler Roberts in particular — wasn’t having it, gave handball the other way. Like that a lot. Millwall fumed about the substitutes thing and general shithousing once QPR had taken the lead, but unlike every other referee we’ve had this year he actually added the time on for all of that gamesmanship. I mean, just QPR’s luck to finally have a referee adding eight and playing ten when they’re winning a game after some of the nonsense we’ve had in matches like Blackpool so far this year, but I didn’t have a problem with it — ten minutes played was fully justified, and I wish that standard was applied across the league when it came to managing the clock.
Attendance 13,384 (2,000 QPR) The pre-match tributes went off immaculately, with the wreath laying, an impeccable silence showing the idea that football fans can’t be trusted with it and you have to have a minute of applause instead to be the nonsense that it is, and then the national anthem. You knew Millwall would get all that right, and they did. Whether half time - where there was music, but they basically put Mellow Magic on and left us listening to Imagine, Fix You, and something that sounded a bit like Luther Vandross - was necessary, or worked, I’m not sure. I half expected Lynn Parsons to come on and tell us how very welcome we all were and then do the travel news. It was a bit weird, and on a purely football point, I’m not sure it did much for the home team’s chances — I’ve never been to a quieter, less intimidating match at this ground in my life. I thought it might be the worst possible fixture to have in the circumstances, with the crowd properly into it and the team ready to put on a show, but actually it was the exact opposite.
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