RichardL
19 Aug 2006, 03:52 PM
Beyond some Galapogos Island turtles, there's not much alive in the world that could remember Reading FC's first match in 1872, and unless they actually watch Match of the Day between shuffling slowly up the beach, few living things will remember this game in 135 years time either, but for those there today, this game's memory will last until the big ref upstairs blows time on everyone's personal match.
The important thing, everyone says, is to settle early and calm the nerves. Reading's Nicky Shorey spooned the second or third pass of the match into touch and Reading found themselves on the receiving end of a shot inside the first minute. Simply, it was panic stations, and although they were crapping themselves more than a man who'd overdosed on laxative pills, they didn't share his urgency, as they sat back and watched as Boro knocked short passes about at will.
The only surprise was that the first goal took so long in coming - Downing, given the kind of room that would make oil tanker captains envious, hit a show low and hard across Hahnemann, who had little chance.
Reading, slower out of the blocks that than competitors at the deaf & blind olympics 100m sprint, did get going from that moment either. We weren't tackling quick enough, the Boro players were clearly thinking that 1/2 second earlier, and our nerves were slowing our every decision. It was clear we'd need to learn fast. We didn't. A needless free-kick on the edge of the box was spilled by Hahnemann, and Yakubu react quickest to make it 2-0. The only reason that it didn't look like game over was because it looked like Boro might have a few more goals in them.
Much had been made about the lack of signing in the Reading squad, and Reading pssibly not being ready, and rather like a virgin's first experience, the disappointment of possibly coming to soon was all too evident.
But slowly Reading did appeared to learn. The forwards, so starved of service that Oxfam were considering them for famine relief, got into the game as the midfielders realised that passing to players wearing the same colour shirt as their own was a good tactic, realised that tackling was allowed, and remembered that they actually are quite good at doing the things that lead to scoring 99 league goals last season.
Having been anonymous to the extent that he could have stood up and said "I'm Steve and I'm an alcoholic", Sidwell begain knocking the ball wide to Seol and Convey, who did their stuff. Having had, up to then, afternoons where they were pondering what to spend their win bonuses on, Boro's full-back suddenly got exposed to the trickery of the two wingers.
It was Seol who drew first blood. Looking at first like he'd slightly overelaborated the play, he found a gap on the byline, pulled the ball across and Kitson was there to poke in a classic strikers goal from about two foot out, to score Reading's first ever top-flight goal. To paraphrase the old cliche about buses, you wait 135 years for one, then two come along at once. Inginmarsson cuts the ball back for sidwell to sidefoot home, and send the stadium into the kind of bouncy delirium that'd give a safety inspector not only kittens, but possibly puppies and ponies too.
And it was nearly 3-2, when a Murty shot was almost turned in at the far post by Doyle.
Half time. 2-2. And to be frank I felt shredded already. There was going to be another 45 minutes of this?
I'm not sure what Gareth Southgate said to Boro at half time, but it might as well have been "gnee..ffuuu, gapang!" for all the motivational quality it had. Reading seemed almost surprised to not be facing a resurgent regrouped Boro, but after few minutes began to impose themselves again, and although not matching the fluidity of last season, attacks looked much more of the usual blitzkrieg than the charge of the light brigade that characterised the first half hour.
It always seemed to be the way last season that the front trio of Doyle, Kitson and Lita were never all fit at the same time, so naturally one had to get injured today. It was Kitson this time, replaced at half time after a rather uncompromising challenge. On came Lita and proved he has the eye for a poacher's goal too. More good work from Seol lead to a rather untidy scramble in the six yard box, which Lita pounced on to put Reading unbelievably 3-2 ahead.
Reading then controlled the second half, with ever quite looking comfortable, until players began to tire. Seol had been taken out by a "robust" challenge, and convey had been on the receiving end of a few challenges that in terms of "professionally execution" were almost worthy of Carlos the Jackal. Both had good games, even if both looked to have another gear to spare.
If Reading were finding that there appear to be different interpretations of what constitutes a foul in this division, they can count themselves lucky that during this spell of tiring, the linesman also tired and disallowed an apparently onside Viduka goal, as Boro slowly threatened to get back into the game. Hahnemann was forced into two saves, and cleared up from a misunderstanding with sonko that was messier than an ice-cream eating child's face. But with Gunnarsson on along with Hunt, who appeared to have borrowed John Oster's hair for the day, it was surprisingly Reading who finished stronger, and looked more likely of the two to get the games 6th goal.
But after 3 agonising minutes of injury time it was over, and there'd been quite enough goals for one afternoon, and the Reading fans celebrated as if they won a big cup tie. In a sense the had, and there's 37 more to come. I don't know if we'll stay up or go down, but if those next 37 are like this then I'll be a basket case come May. Rollercoaster rides like that could put Disney's Magic Kingdom out of business. The Royals might not have a kingdom, but sitting here currently in a champions league place, it's a good day to have blue (& white hooped) blood.
The important thing, everyone says, is to settle early and calm the nerves. Reading's Nicky Shorey spooned the second or third pass of the match into touch and Reading found themselves on the receiving end of a shot inside the first minute. Simply, it was panic stations, and although they were crapping themselves more than a man who'd overdosed on laxative pills, they didn't share his urgency, as they sat back and watched as Boro knocked short passes about at will.
The only surprise was that the first goal took so long in coming - Downing, given the kind of room that would make oil tanker captains envious, hit a show low and hard across Hahnemann, who had little chance.
Reading, slower out of the blocks that than competitors at the deaf & blind olympics 100m sprint, did get going from that moment either. We weren't tackling quick enough, the Boro players were clearly thinking that 1/2 second earlier, and our nerves were slowing our every decision. It was clear we'd need to learn fast. We didn't. A needless free-kick on the edge of the box was spilled by Hahnemann, and Yakubu react quickest to make it 2-0. The only reason that it didn't look like game over was because it looked like Boro might have a few more goals in them.
Much had been made about the lack of signing in the Reading squad, and Reading pssibly not being ready, and rather like a virgin's first experience, the disappointment of possibly coming to soon was all too evident.
But slowly Reading did appeared to learn. The forwards, so starved of service that Oxfam were considering them for famine relief, got into the game as the midfielders realised that passing to players wearing the same colour shirt as their own was a good tactic, realised that tackling was allowed, and remembered that they actually are quite good at doing the things that lead to scoring 99 league goals last season.
Having been anonymous to the extent that he could have stood up and said "I'm Steve and I'm an alcoholic", Sidwell begain knocking the ball wide to Seol and Convey, who did their stuff. Having had, up to then, afternoons where they were pondering what to spend their win bonuses on, Boro's full-back suddenly got exposed to the trickery of the two wingers.
It was Seol who drew first blood. Looking at first like he'd slightly overelaborated the play, he found a gap on the byline, pulled the ball across and Kitson was there to poke in a classic strikers goal from about two foot out, to score Reading's first ever top-flight goal. To paraphrase the old cliche about buses, you wait 135 years for one, then two come along at once. Inginmarsson cuts the ball back for sidwell to sidefoot home, and send the stadium into the kind of bouncy delirium that'd give a safety inspector not only kittens, but possibly puppies and ponies too.
And it was nearly 3-2, when a Murty shot was almost turned in at the far post by Doyle.
Half time. 2-2. And to be frank I felt shredded already. There was going to be another 45 minutes of this?
I'm not sure what Gareth Southgate said to Boro at half time, but it might as well have been "gnee..ffuuu, gapang!" for all the motivational quality it had. Reading seemed almost surprised to not be facing a resurgent regrouped Boro, but after few minutes began to impose themselves again, and although not matching the fluidity of last season, attacks looked much more of the usual blitzkrieg than the charge of the light brigade that characterised the first half hour.
It always seemed to be the way last season that the front trio of Doyle, Kitson and Lita were never all fit at the same time, so naturally one had to get injured today. It was Kitson this time, replaced at half time after a rather uncompromising challenge. On came Lita and proved he has the eye for a poacher's goal too. More good work from Seol lead to a rather untidy scramble in the six yard box, which Lita pounced on to put Reading unbelievably 3-2 ahead.
Reading then controlled the second half, with ever quite looking comfortable, until players began to tire. Seol had been taken out by a "robust" challenge, and convey had been on the receiving end of a few challenges that in terms of "professionally execution" were almost worthy of Carlos the Jackal. Both had good games, even if both looked to have another gear to spare.
If Reading were finding that there appear to be different interpretations of what constitutes a foul in this division, they can count themselves lucky that during this spell of tiring, the linesman also tired and disallowed an apparently onside Viduka goal, as Boro slowly threatened to get back into the game. Hahnemann was forced into two saves, and cleared up from a misunderstanding with sonko that was messier than an ice-cream eating child's face. But with Gunnarsson on along with Hunt, who appeared to have borrowed John Oster's hair for the day, it was surprisingly Reading who finished stronger, and looked more likely of the two to get the games 6th goal.
But after 3 agonising minutes of injury time it was over, and there'd been quite enough goals for one afternoon, and the Reading fans celebrated as if they won a big cup tie. In a sense the had, and there's 37 more to come. I don't know if we'll stay up or go down, but if those next 37 are like this then I'll be a basket case come May. Rollercoaster rides like that could put Disney's Magic Kingdom out of business. The Royals might not have a kingdom, but sitting here currently in a champions league place, it's a good day to have blue (& white hooped) blood.