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Stourbridgeblue added 18:14 - Apr 2
Plenty of positives to take from the match - BUT we should have put this one to bed.
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Mullet added 20:02 - Apr 2
The spirits moved the clouds just in time for Town to play in unseasonal sunshine, in unseasonal fashion back at Mick's old haunt. Just in time to bury the ghosts that lingered over the international break. A familiar five, Skuse and Douglas again the engine, Pringle the fulcrum on which Sears and full debut-making Feeney rotated behind Pitman in a more postive 4-2-3-1.

Wolves a more measured 4-3-3, with two widemen making a stealth jet shaped attack behind the lone striker however they drifted more like a blimp. When Sears and Pitman streamed down the left chasing Pringle's kickoff, an immediate disappointment was apparent for fans of Mick's airborne football. No man moved more than five or so yards before receiving or returning the ball. Again and again and again. It was inventive but unflinchingly industrial.

Town's first chance was fittingly nuanced for a side so under the microscope. Pitman's movement imperceptible to his marker, he reversed a ball toward but beyond Feeney at the far post. Soon after either side composed themselves, Town set about a pleasing rhythm.

A well won free-kick was a rarity, spotted by a ref unable to see much for either side. Pringle whipped it tellingly inward from the right hand side, but the home side dealt with it. Town came again with refreshingly neat passes. Skuse reducing our carbon footprint such was his ability to recycle possession, and the intent of Sears and Pringle met with Pitman's poise to find Knudsen twice in successive attacks.

First the Dane headed down smartly, but to little result from just inside the box. Next he shot well without really finding a touch to sicken a home team with little to play for and little about them. If the game was a well matched account of movement, there was little urgency for teams careering toward the final straights of a season. Dire it rarely became in such pleasant, but leisurely moments.

Wolves had had the first of few chances, if Town were predictably perky then they too were routinely careless. The first of two good chances came when Douglas gave the ball awayeach time. He wins headers well, and he points to play and players like a theoretical Xavi. Ultimately he runs like an uphill Garvan. Wolves pounced in the middle with Coady stabbing the ball forward down the left.

The resultant cross from a quick breakaway saw a definite tug of dirty orange as at least one shirt expanded to soften the striker's landing. A clear penalty it looked, for once we Lady Luck winked and turned away at just the right time. Town set about chasing her.

Town were battling, what else does one expect from Mick? McCarthy now Aurelius, may have seemed irked pre-match. He may not claim to listen to the detractors, but he clearly heard the mob as passes and runs flowed down either flank in the arena. His selection of Pringle, Pitman, Sears and Feeney all had eyes open and body language that screamed to be fed. With full backs that ushered and shuffled their men away well away from goal, we also found that final man and moment to produce real intent down both wings. Having seen such carnage, plague and unrest follow previous campaigns of glory; the Yorkshireman was ever the stoic pragmatist. His team today a picture of discipline, unbowed and bloodied, inviting attacks with sweeping belligerent assaults of their own down on the field.

Feeney found the second of Town's shots, bullet-like as his right foot made contact with what looked like a blow against Ikeme's hands initially, but the change in direction came from the woodwork so the referee motioned. It was one of the more hopeful moments in a half full of excellent before play, but endings often sloppy or shot premature and missing their mark.

At the other end a skirmish saw Wolves move another telling cross from the left, this time from a deadball into Town's box. Bart came, Bart saw, Bart was clattered. Questioning one's senses as Wolves played on despite plucking the ball from between both hands, it was relief to see their ill-gotten gains dribbled away.

Town's best chance and debatable third was a bit lucky. Pitman dismounted the defender so keen to ride him. Turned with the ball and managed to get all the way to the byline as he bore down on Ikeme and beat him. Just as he deliberated the man he dispossessed kept it out on the line. Saving blushes and a certain goal. Half time hindsight suggested he might have pulled it back and Feeney who was now cutting in from the left could have pushed Town in front. So much to be heartened by, but so little to show for it was encapsulated in that one brief brush with fate.

In the second half, the sun returned but little bubbled in Molineux cauldron as the old gold remained cold and inert. Both teams drowning slowly in the midtable soup of another game, another 90 minutes of toil. Whereas Douglas had spent the first 35 minutes of the game giving much away on the floor, Chambers had been diametrically ruthless almost North Korean in oppressively shutting down everything. The switch that happened ten minutes before the break continued.

It was now the Captain who was misjudging when momentum built and Dougie who found the right moment and right touch for Town to go again. When he sent Town down the right the ball eventually fell again to the impressive attacking force of stand-out Knudsen. Alas, it was all Jonas had as he was the right man, with the wrong foot and shanked it badly.

So often has it seemed Sears was wasted out wide. One powerful run through the middle and he left defenders dizzy only to be wasteful. A slamming shot, with Pitman overlapping and far from overjoyed as the chance went begging. It was a game where the philosophy had changed for Town but not the need for philosophising whatever your position might be.

Wolves had by now changed personnel and shape. They put more up top in the form of Mason but still seemed to have nothing. Town's first half habit of passing was slowly getting a kicking as both sides traded headers and half-hearted intent in the middle. It wasn't until the business of crossing came to the fore and the work of attacking trio fed Pitman. The Jerseyman rose, but the cat-like Ikeme caught the header that looked to get Town's end purring.

You know the times are a-changing when Skuse not only wins the ball, but runs with it, when he hits yard ten unchecked, so he seems to instinctively hit the ball. Ball winner yes, match-winner, no. It cannoned off the defender's legs and so did another sense of what will be, might not be what we felt should be.

With blood-boiling, ill will crackled in the air, the Wolves fans attacked their own far more viciously than they managed on the pitch. Ironic jeers, chanting and something one assumes is an atmosphere was generated behind the goal. Sapping the belief from the hosts as the best they could muster was to surprise themselves. Peeling behind the defence, a smart leg out from Bart span the ball up and the second attempt was blasted away. The game was not quite dead and the home side not quite carrion, but lukewarm.

In response to this came Luke Varney. If the guile of Brett was not going to work, then the fresh legs and fresh hell of Reg bearing down on them was the gambit played. It worked to some extent. The sub won yards and acclaim but little to note, as too often effort did not equate to results.

As Wolves made one final change Town hadv made a double, joining Reg was Bru. Pringle also making way, but the lacklustre Mauritian didn't really make waves for several minutes. Rolling to the right in floating role, he was pleasingly neat but not sharp enough to carve out much. That was until he joined in clashing shots off the man in front of him, and feeding the neat movement of Feeney and Chambers.

The captain dinked a neat ball over his man, but Feeney found little but the flag as the game moved on towards full time. With barely a minute or two left, Town fans and hopes rose. Oh David McGoldrick, how nice it was to see him. But with little time and little touches he did little but see out a performance, symbolic perhaps but not indicative of a resurrection of Blue hopes. It was cameo ultimately as hollow as the 'O' in the free-scoring demigod's song.

With time playing out, and the game floating off into equal spoils and season spoiling ignominy it's hard to see how Town might ascend the ladder into the playoff's such as we are hanging on.

A defeat may have kinder cruelty, undeserved but push adrift to see us take one match at a time to the woes and frustration of another season just too long to stop us coming up short. With games coming thick and fast the maths may make romantics of us all. There is a time for heroes and a time for the future, how much of either we see in the next month or so remains to be seen.
2



essexboy added 21:34 - Apr 2
Poor game,town had the chances and blew it,once again due to poor tactics and team selection
0



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