What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
You have dried the marrow from the bone?
For men were born to pray and save:
Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone,
It’s with O’Leary in the grave.

Yet they were of a different kind,
The names that stilled your childish play,
They have gone about the world like wind,
But little time had they to pray
For whom the hangman’s rope was spun,
And what, God help us, could they save?
Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone,
It’s with O’Leary in the grave.

Was it for this the wild geese spread
The grey wing upon every tide;
For this that all that blood was shed,
For this Edward Fitzgerald died,
And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone,
All that delirium of the brave?
Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone,
It’s with O’Leary in the grave.

Yet could we turn the years again,
And call those exiles as they were
In all their loneliness and pain,
You’d cry, ‘Some woman’s yellow hair
Has maddened every mother’s son’:
They weighed so lightly what they gave.
But let them be, they’re dead and gone,
They’re with O’Leary in the grave.

Year……………Bought………………Sold………………Net……
04/05……………39.75………………10.50……………29.25…
05/06……………26.29………………12.00……………14.29…
06…………..……23.70………………11.13……………12.57…

Yanks arrive! (06/02/2007)

07………………..20.60………………2.70………………17.90
07/08……………43.00………………33.20………………9.80…
08/09……………39.00………………32.75………………6.25…
09/10……………40.00………………35.50………………4.50…

Here’s Hoping!!

What the hell….hasn’t had a proper management job in 8 years…

Sadly the remaining 85 minutes saw us retreat further and further, possibly content in our minds that we had a right to the three points. The inevitable equaliser, born out of the laziest of nothing crosses by one of the ‘Home grown lads’ (and therefore great by definition), brought everyone down to earth, and Colchester aside, where the performance possibly rose to 60%, it’s been a case of ‘how good can we possibly make sub standard opposition look?’.

Because that’s what’s annoying me. Walsall, Brighton, Oldham and Brentford (OK, we beat Oldham, thankfully, but they were abject) did nothing but turn up, try and do what they were told to do in training and therefore completely outfoxed a team who were tactically equal, at least, to Manchester United and for a good period over the two games, Spurs. These were gimme points. There for the taking. And we simply didn’t turn up until it was too late.

Yes, I know, the Walsall second goal, just as we were getting into some sort of stride, was the product of the linesman’s fertile imagination, but whatever, we shouldn’t be in that position.

The last time we scored three at home? More than two months ago. Before that (Kettering apart)? Yeovil on Halloween.

That’s not the form of a swaggering team. Howson – 3 goals and 3 assists in 30 starts (Gradel has exactly the same stats from 4 starts and 17 sub appearances). Doyle – one assist and barely a shot on goal. Kilkenny, looked good for a while, as he does, but then looked impotent, moody and irrelevant. Two goals and two assists is about par for the course with Howson & Doyle’s stunning figures.

Bradley Johnson has found neither rhythm nor form since recovering from injury because he can’t get a run of games and when he does he gets a headache from Casper’s ‘cunning’ hoofs that totally catch out our opponents with their originality (yeah right…).

Which leaves Snodgrass. A shambling, bumbling shadow of last season, but still with six goals and seven assists. He should be pickled and preserved because without him our powder puff, defensive, technically suspect, midfield would have had us lower mid table at best.

Perhaps there was some magic formula which Doyle and Howson had earlier in the season, but now the DVDs have been studied by opposing managers and the candy has been swiped form these babies’ mouths.

We need goals. There many be many reasons why we hoof it so much, but one of them (and you see it in the body language of the full backs, especially) is clearly that nobody has any faith that the midfield are going to do anything other than pass sideways or backwards. Accordingly, as a hoof is then inevitable, you might as well hoof it first time round.

How do you change it? Truth is it’s very hard. Our pattern is set and experimentation with 12 games to go is just too risky.

If we go up it will be despite our midfield rather than them offering anything of meaningful assistance.

And that, I’m afraid, comes down to Grayson. There must be a technically competent midfielder who would come to Leeds for the money that Dickov is on…

The scene you describe is a healthy, developing one – and if anyone knows of any additional sites, let’s hear about them and expand it.