West Ham Till I Die
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David Hautzig's Match Report

West Ham 3 Liverpool 1: Wake Me Up, Please.

In an odd way, I feel more at ease on match days against the so-called Bigger Clubs. Instead of trying to envision a way we can take all three points, only to have those points disappear in one painful way or another, I sit down in front of the TV with absolutely no expectations whatsoever. I’m thoroughly expecting a thrashing. Anything other than that is just taken as an unexpected pleasure.

Even during the recent years that Liverpool fell out of the top four, I always thought of them in that “big club” kind of way. Hearing their supporters whine and moan about their “problems” did get a bit annoying. Really? You are begging for mercy because you finished 7th? Try playing away at Doncaster on a Tuesday night and then you can complain. Until that day, do the world a favor. Shut up.

And what should we make of Liverpool’s win on Tuesday in the Champions League? I’ve always been inclined to think that supporters will use whatever analysis suits their feelings at the time. “Victory will give them belief and confidence” is about as appropriate as “having to play midweek will leave them fatigued”. The reality is that Liverpool have a lot of very good players, even a few superb players, and a manager we would probably sell our first born for. Did you hear him after they lost to Villa? He praised the good things they did, pointed out where they could have done better, and made it clear he has faith in every one of them. Good guy to work for in my opinion. So despite letting the title slip from their grasps last season, Liverpool overall are on the upswing again.

From the West Ham vantage point, we were all pretty pleased with how we played against Hull. Eerily similar to how we felt after the Crystal Palace game. Which turned into a train wreck the next week against Southampton. But, and I was probably creating a reality here to match my desires, I figured our positivity today was based on a better foundation than it was against the Saints. More to the point, it was based on Valencia, Sakho, and Song as opposed to Cole. We had more ammunition today.

Before the lineup was announced, @RockyWHU and I were discussing who would sit it out if Song got the start. We narrowed it down to Noble and Zarate. Rocky put his six pence on Zarate. I went for broke and the long odds by picking Noble.

If I gambled I’d have to sell my kids into slavery to pay my debts.

Song got the start, Zarate got a seat. They do look pretty plush on TV, but I doubt that’s much consolation. I also hoped for Jenkinson to play instead of Demel, but this is still a Sam team and changes will come slowly. And if anybody questions the existence of life after death, look no further than Fabio Borini.

I also made a tactical move. I decided to substitute the 50 inch Toshiba in my bedroom for the 20 inch Insignia in the kitchen. I had watched the Southampton game from the blanket chest in front of my bed, and it really let me down. So the counter stool in the kitchen got the nod. The added flexibility of having the counter in front of me, holding my laptop and IPad, seemed useful. The actual stools are not that comfortable, but it didn’t matter because 75 seconds in I was out of it.

Downing’s free kick went straight onto Tompkins forehead. But unlike recent headers by our tall centre-half, this one had a place to go. Many places, actually. West Ham players didn’t watch the ball. They attacked it. Movement was everywhere. And Reid moved right onto it for a pretty simple push into the back of the net.

Euphoria. It’s tempered, but it’s there. I think Reid felt it as well, but he let it get the better of him a few minutes later when he picked up a yellow for a reckless challenge. When your key central defender gets booked that early, agita has a tendency to creep in.

When the whole Diafra Sakho “saga” happened, the few followers I have on Twitter know how furious I was. No, I’m not some secret follower of French football. Their wines keep me busy enough. I read his stats, and did think it was likely worth a punt regardless of whether or not Wickham came from Sunderland. What got me so mad was that it looked like the club had acted like complete jerks.

His lob for the second goal was as much fun to watch as Valencia’s strike against Hull. The conversation on Twitter to determine whether he meant to shoot or got lucky with a pass ended with a majority decision in favor of the former. The announcer here on NBC certainly thought so, and on replay his eyes seemed to be focused more on goal than on Valencia. If he didn’t…..he should lie his ass off and tell the world he knew exactly what he was doing. That will just give future opponents more to think about.

2-0, to the cockney boys.

For the next few minutes, I stopped writing. I was dazed. Like some unexpected endorphin rush had run it’s course and now I was in crash mode. But in all of the years I’ve lived and died with West Ham, 2-0 up has always given me trouble. Obviously we didn’t lose every game we led 2-0. It just felt like that. So just like old habits die hard, so do old neurosis.

We were playing with energy, and more importantly belief in attack. Downing was making runs in a way that looked like he actually thought something might come of it. Cresswell won a corner with pure grit. I wanted to believe this was not a one off so to speak. Could this be the new West Ham? Could this be a new Sam Allardyce?

There was a little drama when Balotelli and Adrian got into it when Mad Mario chased a ball a little too enthusiastically and crashed into our only slightly less mad keeper. They both got booked, but if Adrian had kept his cool it might have only been the Italian. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a keeper sent off with two yellows, so I wasn’t that concerned. I was concerned, however, that rookie ref Craig Pawson was way out of his depth.

Rodgers made an early substitution in the 22nd minute when Manquillo came off for Mamadou Sakho. So to keep things straight, and completely partisan, he will now be referred to for the rest of this article as Bad Sakho. As opposed to our Good Sakho. Bad Sakho’s introduction meant that Liverpool would play 3-5-2.

I don’t know if that even helped contribute to Raheem Sterling pulling one back for Liverpool, but in any event he did. Balotelli took a shot that came off Cresswell and fell right to Sterling. When you consider that kid cannot buy a beer in my country for about two years, yet is already so dominant at times, the future looks great for him. And terrifying for everybody else.

2-1.

Kouyate gave us a scare when we went down clutching his hamstring. It looked like he signaled to come off, but after a few minutes on the sideline he kept playing. And we kept coming forward. We kept moving the ball around, trying to find space. Good Sakho tried a cheeky back heel, and Valencia took a pass from Downing and drilled a low shot at Mignolet. Bad Sakho cleared.

Halftime came, and I made my family some lunch. Greek Lemon soup and a nice loaf of bread. Despite the nerves, I ate.

Soon after the second half started, I got the feeling that Liverpool were mad, and we were going to pay for it. How dare West Ham change their style! And more so, how dare they do it well! Sterling was getting more time on the ball and more space to do something with it. Balotelli had a curling effort that wasn’t that dangerous, but it reminded me that it could have been dangerous. We weren’t getting back like we had in the first half. Another run by Sterling led to yet another corner.

West Ham got lucky, in my opinion, in the 61st minute when Song brought down Adam Lallana right on the edge of the area. Maybe even inside. On another day, Gerrard levels it up on a PK. But not today. To be fair to Song, other than the outfit he probably wore to the ground it was his only mistake of the game. He was superb, showing more composure from a West Ham midfielder than I’ve seen in ages. Which was why when he came off for Amalfitano I wasn’t happy. He may have been gassed, but the way I saw it we were bringing in a wild drummer to replace a conductor. And that came minutes after Carl Jenkinson came on for Demel, only to be booked within seconds. Would we lose the composure we needed to see this out?

Then Sam had to start making me even more twitchy. How many times have we seen him make a defensive substitution before set piece only to see it blow up in his gum chewing face? So Collins on for Valencia did not make me feel warm and fuzzy. Balotelli came close on that corner, and Collins almost cut Cresswell in half. With Song and Valencia out, where would the link up between the midfield and attack come from? Say it with me, everyone.

HOOF!

Kouyate went down again in the 80th minute, again clutching his hamstring, I was ready to give Allardyce over to a Somali warlord. With all three substitutions used, the idea of finishing the game on ten men because he didn’t manage the game well enough was more than I could handle. No more sitting. I’m pacing in circles the rest of this game. Self preservation was coming into play. “I’d have taken a draw this morning” I tell God, so I will accept one now.

Then a bad attempted clearance led to a goal. Except unlike normal, expected circumstances it was Liverpool that made the mistake and West Ham that scored. Bad Sakho gave the ball away to Downing, and Amalfitano streaked down the left. A sublime pass from Stuart, and the mad drummer I was worried about played an amazing toe poke solo.

3-1.

Most games that would be the end of any report. But in extra time, Good Sakho chased down Balotelli near the corner flag in the Liverpool end. Not only that, he won the ball. And he passed it. I have no idea to whom, because frankly my dear I don’t give a damn. We held the ball for over a minute. I just wanted that extra bit of effort, that level of commitment, to be recognized.

When Sam Allardyce took over, he took a clever little dig at Moron Grant when he promised no team of his would blow a 2-0 lead. Someone on Twitter posted that to date he has kept that promise. I’m not going to get too ahead of myself here, because I have never experienced an extended feeling of joy with West Ham. Fear is always lurking. But today was the kind of game and the kind of performance that makes me wonder if the very idea of pushing on is even possible.

I’m going to go mow my lawn now. And enjoy every minute of it.

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