Sounds bad? Was bad.

This was a sterile performance against opponents whose woeful ambition lack of ambition was perfectly captured by their goalkeeper’s triumphant reaction to the final whistle – arms aloft, glee scribbled all over his face, it was as if he’d just participated in a shock Shaker victory at the Bernabeu rather than the acquisition of a dismal point on a grey night at home in the League. Well, we’re top of the table, maybe this is what we have to expect from opponents. But I think we can play better than this, even against stubborn opponents whose main aim is to run hard, defend deep and spoil rotten.

Two changes from Saturday’s line-up saw Keates into central midfield in preference to Green and Holt replacing the injured Elliott wide on the left:

Musslewhite
Thelwell Whittle Delaney Dawson
Price Keates Ashbee Holt
Burgess Alsop

And after an exuberant and splendidly thorough frisking we were into Gigg Lane in time for a vibrant Tiger opening. In the first minute a Burgess header was pushed a foot over the crossbar by the keeper’s flailing hand before, shortly afterwards, a Keates free-kick wide on the right was flicked on towards Burgess lurking at the far post: a firm downward header was expertly smothered by Garner, the home netman.

We had begun well, with most of the play flowing attractively down our right where Price was already looking more lively than he had throughout at Plainmoor but, sad to say, the momentum quickly spluttered to a crawl and was then lost. Bury moved forward sporadically but found no joy when confronted by the twin rocks of Delaney and Whittle, while our efforts up the far end from the travelling Tiger support became ever tamer. Holt has filled in admirably in the later stages of several recent games but his appearance from the start did no more than confirm what an unusually talented and imaginative player Elliott can be. We looked as threatening as lettuce down the left. And up front Alssop has all of a sudden plunged into a ghastly trough of form: he moped around ineffectively and looks very down-in-the-mouth. As the half progressed turgidly, a gentleman in front of me wheeled round and sagely observed of the footballing fare: “Largely Formless!” and proceeded to show interested parties his brand new camera containing pictures of his brand new girlfriend. Gadgetry eh! The things you can pick up cheap in Bridlington.

Delaney had a shot from the edge of the box through a crowd of limbs and torsos safely pouched by Garner, Bury had the bulk of the possession and then, mercifully, it was half-time.

Pies. PIES! Now, as regular readers of this column may have noticed, I am not an admirer of the American Dream. In fact I have got through 17 radios already this year as a result of damage done by hurling them against my kitchen wall when Mr Blunkett takes to the airwaves to announce his latest “US-style criminal justice initiative”, as if we Europeans have got anything to learn from a country whose steepling crime rate is matched only by its determination to put to death as many mentally handicapped and members of ethnic minorities as it can shove needles or electrodes into shortly before the Governor next has to stand for election. But hey, let’s not be churlish! In America they get many things right, and providing food to fans at ballgames is one of them. Here we were at Gigg Lane, well appointed and homely lair of Bury FC, and where are we? Why, we are in Lancashire. And how many City are there? Ooo, easily 1,500, maybe more. And so what does every man, woman and child want? Well, they want a pie, and the ones who don’t want a pie want two pies. So what was on offer? One tiny cramped stall, and a queue as long as the one that Tony Blair jumped to get hospital treatment at the weekend. Now, in America a blizzard of bright-teethed salespersons would have been tripping lightly up and down the aisles dispensing hot pies and a range of other tasty snacks at a price to suit your pocket, and we would all have been shiny happy people with lovely warm well-fed tummies (unless we were unlucky enough to have an Islamic sort of a name and look a bit, well, brown, in which case we might have been promptly incarcerated without trial or access to a lawyer). A poor show from Bury and their idleness in failing to attend to the needs of the Tiger nation will have cost them a whacking wodge of profit. I hope we don’t come back here any time soon.

Oo, I get cross sometimes.

Second half. Better than the first. Still not very good.

Holt was pushed a little further forward and we began in lively style …. only for this bright opening to give way to more dross. The Muss tipped one smartly over his bar, but neither side was offering anything fluent. In fact the passing was pretty shockingly poor – sloppy, thoughtless, too often incompetent. A man who can pass, Stuart Green, came on for one who hadn’t been doing so, Dean Keates, but it was a more unexpected source of craft and poise that supplied our best chance since the game’s first few minutes. Ian Ashbee, not normally a visionary playmaker, picked out Burgess with an excellent sweeping pass, and Ben had time to fall over the ball before regaining his footing and hoicking a powerful shot a couple of yards too high. Then a scrappy build-up released Price more by accident than design, only for his shot to be well blocked by Garner, who had raced quickly and courageously off his whitewash. Ashbee again: a good ball into Price, another good save by Garner down to his right.

Yes, we were the better side: no, we weren’t looking as ruthless as we have in plenty of games so far this season.

The ball made a rare entry into our penalty area and a loud handball appeal from the home fans was momentarily disconcerting. It was up the other end of the pitch and I can say no more than that it looked an absolute cast-iron, no-argument penalty to me (though I couldn’t identify the culprit). The referee serenely waved play on.

France replaced Price, and then Forrester came on for the worryingly limp Allsop, but the game looked short-odds to finish scoreless. Green’s ability to pass the ball with accuracy combined with his talent for the unexpected (one slick turn down near the by-line was sublime) had improved our performance but we still failed to play with any persistent authority. The game was basically scrappy. The Muss stretched to make a decent save: he’s played well lately and is certainly worth his place ahead of Fettis at present. Then a well-judged Burgess header provided a shooting opportunity for Forrester, and another glimpse of the considerable goalkeeping security of the impressive Garner.

Into added time, and 0-0 it is and 0-0 it will stay. But it will also go 11 v 10. Ashbee had been booked earlier by a fussy and erratic referee and when he went tumbling to the turf in a vain and deeply unconvincing attempt to win a penalty he must have instantly feared the worst. A second yellow emerged from the official’s pocket and off marched Ashbee. I think he had no cause for protest: however, if I’ve got the rules right, we will now lose him for Cup, not League, action, which is a relief.