Posted by roller Http://rollercoasterranger.wordpress.com/2012/08/19/graveyard-of-dreams-and-dashed-hoops/
Another well written piece from our 'former' in house wordsmith. Its just a pity that not all great stories have a happy ending. Nice one Roller.
Graveyard of Dreams and Dashed Hoops August 19, 2012 It’s the hottest day of the summer and the most eagerly anticipated. As I stroll along from the tube station a fusion of smells and sounds pervade my senses, the delicate aroma of burnt kebab finally defeating the stench of three day old vomit, the sirens of the scrambled police cars briefly drowning out the juddering of the buses, Shepherds Bush at its finest. Carefully picking my way through the rubbish strewn on the pavement my thoughts turn to visions of our new stadium and whether I’d miss this walk. Bizarrely I decide that I probably would. I am a creature of habit and this journey, regardless of however distasteful it can be, eventually leads to my spiritual home, Loftus Road. I don’t make this journey as often as many others do, perhaps this helps it to retain its attraction. Every time I approach Loftus Road I experience the thrill of anticipation. It is totally irrational as I have been so many times, but my heart starts to beat a little faster and my hopes start to rise. As a ball has yet to be kicked in anger this season my hopes are racing, only occasionally checked by my expectations. I run through various permutations of our possible line up in my head, they are all dynamic, explosive and world beaters. I have great hopes for this season, I definitely expect us to be nearer the top than the bottom and to claim some prized scalps. I couldn’t be more excited if I got locked in the cellars of Château Haut-Brion! All this is forgotten as I enter the Coningham Arms to be greeted by the broadest smile in W12. I’ve only meet Nines once before but the warmth radiating out from his soul would instantly endear him to even the most hardened cynic. Already in his company, and more importantly at the bar, was CORKeR, over from Ireland having wrangled a business trip to coincide with the match. A brief chat, a check on the team line up, which we are all happy with, and all too quickly we are on our way to the ground ensuring we are there in plenty of time to pay our respects to Macca. Possibly only in my mind, there is an inexplicable dignity about Loftus Road. The stadium may be slightly ramshackle and in need of even more T.L.C., but has a certain cachet missing from so many modern identikit stadia. It looks like a football stadium and not like a multipurpose arena. Personally I have an enormous emotional investment in the dear old girl since first being as memorised as any opposition defender by Stan Bowles in the late 70s through to the exuberant release of energy when Djibril Cissé turned in the winner against Stoke at the end of last season. I’ve run the whole gamut of football experiences in W12, promotions, relegations, last gasp survival and despair, incredible comebacks, demoralising defeats, I’ve even seen us win an F.A. Cup match. The pre match buzz of the crowd always make me tingle, in every nook and cranny there is anticipation interspersed with cynicism, optimism with realism, but above all hope and expectation. Locating my seat I slip into my personal bubble briefly blocking out the excited chatter going on all around, finding some serenity within the hubbub. I had applied quite late for a ticket and only been able to get a restricted view seat but was not unhappy with the view it offered. After a few minutes of just sitting there quietly drinking in the atmosphere the stadium rose to welcome the players onto the field. With the meaningless pre-match handshakes out the way the players lined up around the centre circle with chants of “Alan McDonald” reverberating around Loftus Road. I sure that I was the only one feeling choked during the minute’s applause to commemorate the memory of both Alan McDonald and Pat Woods, two former stalwarts of the club with over 700 appearances between them. / continued.
Graveyard of Dreams and Dashed Hoops (continued) I had hoped that attacking the Loft in the first half was a thing of the past, but unfortunately not. As it would transpire that wasn’t the worst of last season’s habits that we have retained. As another passage of Q.P.R. possession that was going nowhere broke down, Swansea attacked at speed. The ball fell into space after Hill’s excellent tackle and, with the Rangers’ statuesque defenders just standing and watching, Michu’s ordinary shot was woefully guided into the corner of the goal by Rob Green. There is no doubt that he should have comfortably saved it, but also that Onuoha should also have closed the ball down preventing Swansea’s new Spanish midfielder from shooting. Poor goalkeeping and lackadaisical defending were definitely bad habits I hoped that we’d left behind. Jamie Mackie spurned a guilt edged opportunity within a few minutes of the restart as Rangers sought an equaliser, but for all our possession and control of the game, there was very little menace in our attack. Apart from Hoilett cutting in from the left wing and firing a shot just wide I’m struggling to think of another serious attempt at goal. The less palatable side to Swansea’s play surfaced with little over 20 minutes gone when their time wasting started. How referee Lee Probert remained oblivious to it is a mystery, it’s not as if it was subtle. To compound matters he then booked Diakite for a good tackle, although he was undoubtedly following U.E.F.A. regulations to the letter in their ongoing attempts to make football a non-contact sport. With the half time whistle approaching, Swansea started to push further forwards. Green tipped a free kick around the post at full stretch, but from the resulting corner Swansea hit the bar from a virtually unchallenged header. For once Rangers moved swiftly out of defence until Taarabt was crudely hacked down on the half way line by De Guzman. To ensure that there was sufficient time for his defenders to regain their positions Britton kicked the ball away and faced up to Taarabt. The Q.P.R. player’s frustrations were echoed by the supporters who had become strangely subdued by this point, but this clear flagrance of one of the rules the U.E.F.A. hold dear went unpunished. There was still time remaining in the half for Swansea to hit the bar again after a very unconvincing punch by Green that ricocheted off the nearest defender to Michu. Fortunately for me some of this action was masked by the pillar obscuring my view, I think this helped me remain a little calmer than others in the stadium. Hopes of an improved second half were soon dashed. Swansea had clearly worked out Rangers’ Achilles’ heel. They just sat back in numbers and waited for Rangers to initially over commit in their desperation for a breakthrough and secondly gift the ball to the best placed Swansea player. Time and time again this happened with Swansea taking full advantage with some well constructed counter attacks as the Q.P.R. players struggled to get back to defend in the summer’s heat. Michu added a beautifully finished second goal after Routledge had found him in far too much space, and Dyer the third after Fabio’s attempted pass had rebounded off Michu’s back into Routledge’s path. Hill was unable to keep pace with Dyer, Taarabt did not attempting to and Ferdinand was nowhere to be seen, consequently Routledge’s through ball left Dyer with a simple finish. The fourth Swansea goal soon followed, an exquisite pass from Agustien found Dyer free of the Q.P.R. defence again who calmly controlled the ball and slotted home while Ferdinand appealed in vain for an offside decision. Another hideous pass from Onouho found Michu who played in Sinclair for the fifth. Had Swansea not been so determined to waste as much time as possible they could have rattled up a cricket score. Dazed and bemused I spent the next few minutes looking around the stadium. More and more empty seats were appearing as many of the Rangers’ fans left early, their hopes for the new season in shreds. Q.P.R.’s new captain Ji Sung Park must have been questioning his decision to come to W12 but he didn’t let that detract from his endeavour. He was still chasing and harrying in the centre of midfield, he was one of the few to emerge this humiliation with any credit. Junior Hoilett showed more than the occasional glimpse of what he can do, and Jamie Mackie as ever gave his all. To their credit Park, Mackie and Derry remained on the pitch to thank the supporters who had remained until the end and had even managed a few choruses of “Come on you Rs” in injury time, but there had been precious little to cheer. I remained in my seat at the end of the match and watched the stadium clear while gathering my thoughts. I had expected a victory and we had got thumped, hopes of being top of the Premier League at the end of the day had been quashed by the realisation that we were bottom and I couldn’t for the life of me work out what had gone so badly wrong. After last season’s similar start when we lost 4 – 0 to Bolton I thought that we had actually been unlucky to lose, where as this time we had be soundly outplayed. I finally managed to convince myself that Hughes will get it sorted, our passing will not be that poor again, our attack will show some teeth, Cisse will never be so out of touch again and that the Queens Park Rangers rollercoaster will change direction again soon. Then a steward came over and asked me to leave. He was right, what the hell was I still doing there anyway? Rollercoaster Ranger
Well there it is folks (thanks SiR!). One way of dragging one of our better posters back on here! Excellent piece, this one Roller. As Inky says, you can sure paint a picture mate! And a multi-dimensional one to boot (football term!). Particularly liked the you-stuff coming down from the tube station, in the pub and before the game. Skipped over the brief match match report as it's still too uncomfortable for a sensitive soul like me but soaked up the essences of the aftermath as you described sitting there on your own in a state of shock. Lonely space that, trauma. Ironic in itself given the fact that many more of us than just those in the ground, were all with you there in spirit at the very least. Great photos mate - and ones we can all relate to but rarely express.
Well summed up roller. Last nights journey was one of the worst but after 40 years of supporting I guess I should l know that's life's never straight forward.
Top read Roller, made up for not being there like last year when I bumped into you and Brix. This time round I was in Peruvian Hoopster's home town on a tour of the city, getting score updates by text from my son watching in Australia. Will admit to feeling more and more deflated with every text. Will probably torture myself by watching it when I get back.
I can't bring myself to watch it. Don't think I ever will. It's bad enough repeatedly seeing and hearing that Aguero clip.
Along with the Rs around the world piece, the best yet Roller, real melancholy. Like Col, I feel there is something not quite right about watching football in England in 30 degree heat. High point of my day was finding the expensively purchased seat and sighing with relief on discovering that the view was good and it really was on the last row so no problems standing for the entirety. First time I have ever bought a seat anywhere with the express intention of not using it.
I agree about that Football should be played at night and nice to see you back sb ... I am not going to LR until the West Ham game as I prefer to still be in 30 degree heat for as long as I can get it
