4724 people, Pride Park’s lowest ever attendance, witnessed
the most astonishing night in the 15 years the Rams have (tried to) ply their
trade at the stadium. There have been unforgettable nights in the past –
beating Southampton on penalties in the play-off semi-final, beating Man Utd in
the semi-final of the 2008-09 League Cup (our last win in the competition) – but
last nights will take some beating for the sheer drama and incompetence of the home
team.
It is inconceivable to twice lead by 3 goals at home to a
lower division outfit and mot progress. It is inconceivable to concede two
goals in the 94th and 96th minute of normal time. It is
not inconceivable to lose on penalties, because they, as the experts say, are a
complete lottery (a fantastic excuse for English failure). Whatever happened on
penalties, the damage was already done.
To turn up on the night and see the match cost £15 to paying
punters. This was the first major fault. Excuse me for disregarding Scunthorpe
as attractive competition, but for a club like Derby, they really are not a
team fans are going to pay such an amount for to see (in the first round of the
League Cup). The record low attendance reflected this assumption. As a result,
the game had a feel of a pre-season friendly for much of it. Had the club
decided to put prices at £5 for adults and £2 for children – not too much to
ask as a thank you for all fans loyalty/stupidity over the years – then the
ground would have undoubtedly been 4 or 5 times fuller. Financially, the club
would have made the same money, and perhaps even more from the more people
there to enjoy the overpriced lager. The knock-on effect would have been Derby’s
players perhaps taking it a little more seriously in the second half, but who
knows.
The second major fault was the new scoreboard. Brilliant; we
now have a huge screen in the corner so people can watch the match on it,
assuming of course they don’t actually want to watch the match on the pitch.
Add on to that the price; £1 million. The team is not good enough to go around
spending what little money we have on technology; the second half last night
proved that. A journalist next to me explained that the money would pay for
Billy Sharp’s wages for a year, and his 25 goal return would sort us out good
and proper. From my position in the press box, I couldn’t see a simple clock on
the screen either, telling me how many minutes we had played. It’s what the
majority of people want to see when their eyes leave the match (“is it time to
beat the queue for a pie yet?”), so why the oversight? Oh yeah, just another
point about the expensive big screen...it stopped working after a while.
Blackness.
In the new look matchday progRAMme (see what they’ve done
there?), Jake Buxton was interviewed about the new signings, and how much easier
it is for them to gel with the squad now than it was when he first signed,
surrounded by big names and personalities (Savage). Apparently the players in
the squad now are “prepared to die a lot more” than previous squads. What are
we? Cats? Nathan Tyson has died 6 times already for the cause, he’s only got 3
lives left. After last night, I suggest all players have just one life, and
when they lose that, toodle loo. I am of course, talking metaphorically.
The first half was a breeze. “Good performance against a
poor team” was my 6 word summary to my elder (and only) male sibling. “Good,
cause this match was a must win” was his reply. Famous last words. The Derby
fans were in good voice: “I’m glad we’re at home, i’m glad we’re at home,
Scunthorpe’s a s**thole, i’m glad we’re at home”. The 150 loyal Scunthorpe fans, situated roughly
half a mile away from the nearest Derby fan, swiftly retorted: “I’m glad we’re
away, i’m glad we’re away, Scunthorpe’s a s**thole, i’m glad we’re away”. All
very funny. I could laugh because Derby were 3-0 up and on our way to Wembley.
Then, the rest as they say, is history. I will not give you
a blow by blow account because we’d be here all day, and Sky Sports News are
doing a pretty good job of rubbing the salt in our proverbial gaping wounds. Poor
substitutions, poor defending and rash decisions saw our downfall. Tom Naylor
is not a left back, yet he was brought on there as a sub, and i’m sure he won’t
mind me telling you he was very poor (I don’t know him, he may mind a lot?!).
New centre back pairing Richard Keogh and cult hero Jake Buxton appear to have found
their goalscoring heads, but defensively, conceding 5 second half goals is a
worry. Jake Buxton, a perennial substitute until Shaun Barker’s horrific injury
at the start of the year, needs to have a very big season. “Bucko can be our
other centre back. He can play their through sheer will alone. He just really
wants it” I was told. I really want to go to Australia and visit the cast of
Neighbours, but every morning I wake up in Ripley. Work that one out. For the
record though, I really like Jake Buxton; an honest pro and I hope he is
rewarded for his great attitude. When Theo Robinson stepped up to take the
penalty that should have put us out of sight, the home fans booed. They wanted
Bucko to complete his hat-trick (as it goes he couldn’t have done much worse
than Theo). He is very popular, but sentiment should not be a reason to settle
on this fragile centre back pairing. It is light years away from Barker and
Shackell.
As the match drew to a conclusion, tempers around me were
frail. Anger consumed me; Derby’s incompetence had caused me to miss the bus
home. My annoyance was nothing compared to the written press I was surrounded
by in the press box though. At half time they had quite rightly written the
opening paragraph: “Derby put their previous League Cup humiliations behind
them tonight as they beat Scunthorpe to progress to round two”. How did it come
to this? Their papers were due to go to print at 22:30. Extra time finished at
22:20, penalties sometime ended sometime after the deadline. Squeeky bum time.
Time costs money, so Derby’s inability to hold on to a two goal lead with two
minute lefts had a more widespread effect. Spare a thought for the journo’s
next time something ridiculous like this happens, hey?
My stint at Pride Park was done. I was that shell-shocked I
ended up speaking to two complete strangers on the way home; I even made the
first move. That never happens. On the way back to the city centre, two young
lads were using the lines of a car park to perform long jumps and triple jumps.
Their techniques were horrific, but it was great to see the Olympic legacy in
full flow. I was temporarily heart-warmed. On the last bus home I was joined by a chav
that had consumed 10 pints of Stella (his words not mine). Driving through
Coxbench he was shouting “If you’ve got a cock, and you like benches...Coxbench
HA HA HA HA”. Then he accused an Asian man at the back of the bus of being a
terrorist. My warm heart had cooled.
Last night was astonishing, but mostly for the wrong
reasons.
