Ipswich Town: My Hopes for the year

I’m an Ipswich Town fan. I am despondent, unhappy and lost in memories of a brighter time, because I would quite like to have my club back – the old Ipswich Town.

We currently sit six points above relegation, sandwiched by, no offence, Millwall and Portsmouth and have suffered the humiliation along the way of losing 7-1 at Peterborough on television and a run of seven straight defeats. Embarrassing.

2012 means it has now been ten years since Portman Road saw Premier League football and I’ve still never seen the Tractor Boys playing on Match of the Day on a Saturday night (when we were in the Premiership, ITV owned the rights to the Premier League and FA Cup highlights don’t count).

To make it worse those canaries are impressing in the best division in the world (I’m not going to mention the dismay I felt after watching them drub us 4-1 away and 5-1 at home last year). And, dare I say it, I’m envious of Norwich.

They’ve brought in hungry young players with a point to prove; Pilkington, Hoolahan and co. On the other hand we’ve opted for ‘experienced pros’ like Lee Bowyer, Carlos Edwards and Jason Scotland, who I’m sorry but are only after one last pay check.

Roy Keane contributed two things to Ipswich Town. The first being a squad where the majority of players were ex- Sunderland colleagues (Marton Fulop, Carlos Edwards, Jack Colback and Grant Leadbitter), or Irish (Mark Kennedy and Damien Delaney), or preferably both (David Healy and Daryl Murphy). To this very day the club is still burdened with players brought by Keane on Premier League wages, the likes of Tamas Priskin and Lee Martin who have never lived up to their reputations.

Second, he sold Jordan Rhodes, a decision that the fans will never understand. Rhodes has since gone on to score just the 54 league goals in 105 league appearances for Huddersfield. That’s just a side issue to the fact that he turned his back on our club’s youth policy, the very thing that I am most proud of.

Growing up the years 1978 and 1981 were drilled into me. 1978, FA Cup, Arsenal, 1-0. 1981, UEFA Cup, AZ Alkmaar, 5-4. I spent half my life under the impression that Mick Mills and Kevin Beattie were living saints and Bobby Robson, God.

We were so big that half the squad starred alongside Michael Caine, Sylvester Stallone, Bobby Moore and Pele in Escape to Victory, simply because we were one of the best and most recognisable teams in Europe at the time.

So big in fact that six years ago when wandering the lonely streets of a Greek island on holiday in my Ipswich Town shirt a man in his forties approached me, looked at my shirt and said “Ipswich Town.” I looked at him bemused, “How did you know that?” “You won the UEFA Cup, you had Bobby Robson, I love Ipswich Town.”

My dad will always compare the current crop of players to those from his era growing up. Bobby Robson, Cooper, Mills, Osman, Butcher, Thijssen, Wark, Muhren, Mariner, Brazil, Gates, Beattie, Osborne, and European adventures, cup runs and pushing for league titles.

Likewise I know that I will always compare every Town team to those from my era growing up. George Burley, Holland, Mowbray, Wright, Hreidarsson, Venus, Clapham, Counago, Naylor, McGreal, Wilnis, Bent, Magilton, Reuser, Armstrong, Ambrose, Stewart, Johnson and Scowcroft. And play-off matches, beating Liverpool and Leeds away, drawing with Arsenal, Man Utd, Chelsea and Liverpool at home, finishing fifth in the Premier League and of course beating Inter Milan the following year.

But who do the generation below me have to aspire to?

After one term at university I’m already tired of being told “Oh Ipswich! They’re a good old family club aren’t they?” I want people to think more of us than that.

I don’t want Middle Eastern money, really I don’t. I’m not even saying I want Premier League football, let alone a Europa League run. All I want is a team of eleven players made up of clever signings and academy graduates, playing for a manager who wants the ball passed on the deck and is backed by a chairman who realises that effort and time contributed is more important than money contributed.

What I’m saying is I want my old Ipswich Town in 2012 but I can wait. After every defeat, sloppy performance or transfer target we miss out on I still smile. Not because I am happy of what my club has become, but because I can always close my eyes and take myself back to a cold night at Portman Road on the 22nd November 2001 and the happiest movement I’ve had as a Town fan.

It’s the 81st minute and Jamie Clapham swings in a ball to the far post where Alun Armstrong heads in past Francesco Toldo. Little old us, that team from Suffolk, held on to beat Inter, with Toldo, the Zanetti brothers, Di Bagio, Seedorf, Emre, Materazzi and Adriano, 1-0. I went hope that night, the proudest boy in the whole wide world.

If you enjoyed reading this please visit my new blog at:
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Many Thanks

 

Would you like to see ER's penis?

 

Nah, it was pish.

 

we were on match of the day in our first prem season. But agree with what you said. Hopeless. Evans is the worst thing that ever happened to us!

 

ST363, If you want a decent discussion with Town fans you might want to refrain from posting on the general chat. Good post by the way. You are more than welcome on the Ipswich board but please don't bring your general chat 'friends' with you.

 

Something wrong with general chatters like?!

 

Yeah

 

Don't post in general chat FFS!