The Weekly Bobbins: The Disorganised Millers Display in Reading
We returned to the SCL after a long vacation, all of us interested in what Leam Richardson had created in the sixteen days without football. Unfortunately, the response was quite soggy, just like the weather.
Everyone appeared as though their energy was as drenched as their shirts, the flanks offered little incision, and the early speed from the Stevenage match never materialised. The paradox is that they must put in more effort to develop the fitness that has been conspicuously lacking. Every moment of play was tainted by this lack of conditioning, with any kind of energy appearing to be limited to the pitch. The outcome was an opening half that jogged rather than sprinted; perhaps the instruction was to conserve energy following the late fitness breakdown in the previous encounter.
A performance that stuttered throughout was the result of this subdued work pace. Charlie Savage and Lewis Wing seemed to play inside themselves in midfield. Like a footballing Schrödinger’s cat, Wing pulled off the amazing feat of being both good and horrible in the same thirty minutes. We kept falling into the classic Noel Hunt pattern of passing the ball around the back without making any forward progress, just to have it return to Wing, who had initiated the entire series.
The quarterback act is getting old, even though I know this may not be the popular opinion. It slows things down, gives the opponents time to set up their deckchairs, and leaves us to hope that the low-percentage ping upfield will behave itself. However, Wing is not the only one who lacks urgency. We repeatedly moved the ball swiftly to Kelvin Abrefa, but each time we hesitated, stalled, and gave Rotherham time to reconstruct their human wall. A kind of tactical thumb-twiddling took the place of the appetite for danger.
However, Alan Young, the referee, and his touring group of interpretive rule-makers were the unwelcome main event. This was a demonstration of such perplexing inconsistency that one wondered if the regulations plucked from a cloth bag had supplanted the laws of the game. I try not to go after officials since it feels like shouting into a stiff breeze. A yellow-worthy sliding tackle resulted in a free kick that was taken several postal codes distant. All three officials failed to notice a handball in the box. Inside the box, where football’s equivalent of diplomatic immunity is applicable, Kamari Doyle was bundled over in a way that would be considered a foul anywhere else.
Even though Paudie O’Connor was the final player to head the ball against Rotherham, an offside was called. Cam Dawson, their custodian, was cautioned for wasting time in the first half. It was a charming piece of drama, but it had no effect because he kept being late for nothing. When the team had been in possession for a significant amount of time, free kicks were given. The match never breathed fully, which was understandable given how staccato the entire event was.
Go ahead and rant. I firmly promise not to discuss referees this season. Most likely. Possibly. No assurances. It’s clear that The Richardson Project is still in its early stages beyond the officiating circus. We need more diversity, but the shape is excellent and fits the squad. The unfortunate victim of the uneven arrangement, in which the right side is somewhat higher than the left, appeared to be Randell Williams. Abrefa and Matt Ritchie receive play, with Ritchie moving inside to finish the box midfield.
Doyle’s lack of experience is evident when he chooses to make the safe backwards pass instead of looking up. He’s hardly alone, though. We moved into promising pockets on multiple times, but the ball would always return to the centre backs or wings, almost following a gravitational force towards the centre. However, there is no magic bullet to resolve these teething problems. Unless Savage’s right foot matters, which is possible.
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