Lambert, Adkins and Lallana Make History as Southampton Romp Past Coventry

One of my most striking memories of Southampton’s recent past is of a home game to Nottingham Forest in December 2008. I sat and watched a team of misfits, too old or too young, being overrun by a positively average visiting team. I remember watching Forest score their second goal of a two-nil win, and Kelvin Davis turn to retrieve the ball from the back of his net. I remember him shaking his head. No belief, no real belief that the football club was on the right track either in the game or in general. I remember looking around the stadium, only half-filled with the depressed and the downtrodden, and thinking, to put it bluntly, ‘this is shit.’

It is a true measure of what has happened in the four years since, then, when I say that that moment in 2008, that relegation in 2005 and the heartbreak in the 2007 playoffs were all worth it. On Saturday April 28^th 2012 Southampton returned to the Premier League in style, demolishing Coventry City in front of the BBC cameras in a performance that showed the entire nation what the club has now become.

Positivity, not nervousness, filled St. Mary’s from the very start of the game. Coventry had started brightly, forcing a chance when Gary McSheffrey found space in the box, but his shot was brilliantly clawed away by Kelvin Davis. The Saints, though, never really looked back after they took the lead on the quarter-hour.

Fonte strode out of defence with the ball, releasing Guly down the right, and his cross was met by Adam Lallana’s volley. Sharp’s predatory instinct’s did the rest as he diverted the shot past Murphy and the ground erupted. The celebrations had barely died down when Southampton doubled their lead; a Danny Fox corner was met by Fonte for his first goal of the season, his header just evading the defender on the goal line. If the noise that greeted the first goal signalled unbridled joy, the pandemonium that ensued after the second was the sound of collective catharsis.

The Saints were now in complete control, exemplifying everything that had got them into this position in the first place. Schneiderlin, in what I predict will be his final game outside of the top-tier of English football, dominated the midfield almost single-handedly. A record crowd created the most enjoyable of match-day atmospheres as they roared their team on to finish the job, as well as directing a few choice words to their dear south coast neighbours, whose relegation was confirmed last weekend.

After the break their team did finish the job. Another Fox corner fell to Hooiveld who capped off a prolific season with another tidy finish. The players ran to the crowd, sharing the ecstasy of celebration and savouring the best moment of their careers. The party had begun in earnest by the time Lallana ran onto Lambert’s knock-down and sparked another crescendo of noise – Southampton’s seven-year Premier Division exile was over.

At the end of the game I joined the obligatory pitch-invasion and wandered through the joyful hoards towards where the players and management were celebrating in the Chairman’s box. I remember looking up and watching Nigel Adkins and Rickie Lambert conduct another rendition of ‘Oh When The Saints’ from their adoring fans. And I remember thinking, to put it bluntly, ‘this is absolutely fantastic.’

Davis’ Career Arc Nears a Fitting End as the Saints Travel to ‘Boro

Today Southampton FC stand three points away from a long awaited return to the Premier League. The club has been through some turbulent times and many changes since they relegation from the top tier in 2005, and perhaps only one man at the club fully appreciates the significance of what might be achieved at the Riverside Stadium, Middlesbrough, this afternoon – Kelvin Davis.

Davis was recruited by George Burley in the summer of 2006 as the club aimed for a top-flight return at the second time of asking. His transfer was part of a £7m spending spree, but in a season that failed to live up to its billing, his signing was perhaps the most heavily criticised. After a successful stint with Ipswich, Davis had been given a chance in the Premier League with Sunderland, but his one and only season on Teesside was an unmitigated disaster – the team breaking the record for the lowest ever points total for the Division.

His first season at St Mary’s did little to justify Burley’s faith in the keeper; numerous errors cost Southampton any real chance of automatic promotion and he eventually lost the number one shirt, only returning to the side as they crashed out of the playoffs to Derby.

The spending that had funded Davis’ transfer soon caught up with the club, and they were unable to muster another challenge for promotion the following season, instead barely hanging onto their Championship status on the final day of the season. Once again Davis had lost his place in the team, and his days at St. Mary’s appeared to be numbered as it was suspected that the financially stricken Saints might try to recoup at least some of his £2m fee.

Instead, a new-look management team looked to Davis’ experience to help guide a startlingly young squad through increasingly unstable times at the club. Ultimately, the Saints ended the season relegated and in administration, but Davis’ fine displays in a struggling side perhaps meant more than he could have known at the time. His vastly improved form had instilled new confidence in him from the stands, and the supporters' newfound appreciation for their captain made all the difference as he opted to stay on in League 1 rather than jump-ship, ironically, to West Ham.

In the wake of exciting new ownership at St. Mary’s, Davis said he was determined to see through the task that he been brought to the club to achieve – promotion to the Premiership. That seemed a long way off when the club kicked off on minus ten points in England’s third tier, but the club’s transition from perennial underachievers to football-league tour de force has been swift. Less than three years on, and Southampton are on the brink of an improbable return to football’s top table under the stewardship of Nigel Adkins.

Davis has been vital in the transformation and his position as fans’ favourite was further enhanced after his astonishing performance won his side three points at Leeds in March. The club captain was mobbed by his teammates at the final whistle at Elland Road, and Davis’ reaction showed exactly what success this season would mean to him.

The denouement of Kelvin Davis’ own personal journey could well coincide with Southampton’s Premier League redemption. He, more than most, deserves a second shot at the big time.

Reading Show the Value of the Art of the Half-Chance

Another sell-out crowd at St Mary’s was left frustrated by their team’s failure to convert dominance into points last night, and nobody can deny that, at this stage, it is points that are very much the order of the day.

Adam Le Fondre’s introduction with just under half an hour remaining proved to be the decisive moment in an encounter that effectively decided the Championship title. His two late goals not only all but sealed the Royals’ return to the Premiership, but also served to highlight what it was that was missing from Southampton’s performance. There was no lack of strategy, endeavour, inspiration or skill, but Southampton failed to make their opportunities count, especially in the first half when they laid siege to the Reading goal.

Adam Federici, whose outstanding performance at Brighton in midweek earned Reading an unlikely victory, once again proved to be a difficult obstacle for the opposition to pass. In a first half almost entirely controlled by the home side, Federici’s display was vital just to keep the visitors in touch at the break, let alone in the lead. But in the lead they were on twenty minutes after they took advantage Southampton’s first real error in possession. Danny Fox’s overambitious cross-field pass was intercepted, Jose Fonte was caught underneath Kebe’s precise centre, and Jason Roberts was left to head past Davis from close range.

This was hardly fair on the Saints, who had started the game like a team determined to make this their own night to remember. Reading were finding Lallana’s trickery difficult to contain, and his deflected strike drew Federici’s first real save – the Australian getting down smartly to turn the ball round the right post. Next, Butterfield’s inviting cross was met by Lambert’s flying header, but it was just too close to Federici who made another fine stop.

Then came Roberts’ sucker-punch, but Southampton’s assault on the Reading goal didn’t let up; Lallana’s audacious chip forced another save before Lambert was just unable to get over Fox’s cross in the six-yard box, directing his header over the crossbar.

Southampton were finally rewarded for their pressure early in the second half, and even then it took a deflection to beat Federici. Lallana found Sharp in the penalty area, and his instant lay-off fell perfectly for Lambert whose strike flew into the roof of the net via the knee of Gorkss.

In truth, the Saints never really took advantage of their return to parity; Reading’s resolve, if anything, was strengthened as they pressed the home side ever higher up the pitch, denying them the freedom of possession they surrendered in the first period. The chances were drying up as Lallana was well marshalled by the Reading backline, forcing the home side to rely on hopeful crosses from Butterfield and occasional darting runs from de Ridder. One such cross did find Lallana as he made a run across Cummings, but he couldn’t direct his header on target - another half-chance squandered by the Saints.

Adam Le Fondre has made a habit of snatching late goals since his arrival from Rotherham, and he was the perfect man for Brian McDermott to turn to in the circumstances– Reading’s was a game plan that depended upon the ruthlessness of their forwards when the time came. When Dean Hammond dallied on the ball with twenty minutes remaining, the substitute might have just felt that the time had come.

With the Saints defence backtracking desperately to halt Kebe’s progress into the penalty area, Le Fondre timed his run to the edge of the box perfectly to meet the winger’s pullback and fire a first-time finish into the top corner. McDermott says his striker was ‘born to score goals’, and his second goal in injury time further showed off his poacher’s instincts. Fonte’s back-header was too weak to reach Davis and Le Fondre rounded the ‘keeper to finish.

The Royals’ smash-and-grab win was their fourteenth in their last sixteen outings, an incredible feat that deserves to culminate in promotion. Whether the Saints can join them in the Premier Division depends heavily upon how they react in midweek – a trip to Peterborough to try to secure the first of two wins that would see them out of West Ham’s reach. They need to rediscover their finishing touch, and fast.

Why strikes from Arteta and Scholes signal a different kind of victory

This impartial observer is delighted at yesterday’s football action. Manchester City have dropped a further three points behind their city neighbours United in the race for the title.

I am impartial. No honestly I am, I don’t support Manchester United. But I do want them to win the league this season rather than Manchester City. In the past I have also celebrated their beating Chelsea to the title. But this evidence is circumstantial – I arrive at my conclusions for reasons other than a premeditated pro-United bias.

Many of these reasons have to do with the lack of respectable alternatives to Sir Alex’s men. This season, despite Tottenham’s lofty intentions, Arsenal’s resurgence and Chelsea’s budget, Manchester City have supplied the only serious challenge to United’s crown – and that challenge now hangs by a thread. I hope that what follows helps to shed some light on why it is that I believe Sunday’s results are a good thing for the league, and a victory for football.

Manchester City’s 2008 takeover, they told us, marked the dawn of a new era in the Premier Division; a new force had arrived on the scene and they had very serious ambitions to dominate the English game. After eighteen months or so of failing to make any real impact on - or even announce themselves as participants in - the title race, City’s hierarchy opted for a change in management. Mark Hughes was replaced by Italian scarf-wearer Roberto Mancini, who declared that City’s first title challenge would commence after a further summer of multi-million pound additions to the playing squad.

That particular assault on the title failed to materialize and Mancini had to settle for 3rd place, close enough to his superiors’ pre-season targets to warrant another shot at the title. They began this season in blistering form after adding the likes of Aguero and Nasri to a squad that already contained a plethora of ‘big-names’. Their home form was faultless, and team after team succumbed to the devastating technical ability of Silva, Aguero and Balotelli - most notably United themselves in a humiliating 6-1 decimation at Old Trafford. Yet the squad’s real strength is its depth.

For every player in the starting eleven a wonderfully expensive replacement can be seen waiting on the bench and several more not even included in the match-day squad, depending on the manager’s squad rotation system. And this is what both my distaste for the club, and, in my opinion, the club’s own eventual failings in the league this season can be traced back to.

There is an artificiality to Manchester City’s Premier League strategy that just doesn’t sit well with the football purist in me. When a squad is put together this hastily, and systematically, it lacks an organic quality that you will see in all the great sides over the years. Their players have arrived, almost exclusively, in the last two seasons in a strategic overhaul of the club’s playing staff.

But it doesn’t extend just to the playing staff. The training ground and academy have been radically redeveloped, and even the appointment of Mancini struck me as ticking boxes in a boardroom master plan. Continental coach? Tick. Wearing a blue and white scarf? Tick. Manchester City is an organisation, a project, a pseudo-club.


City’s identity is difficult to pin down. Were Arsenal, Tottenham or even Chelsea to win the league, I would at least know who I should be pleased for. They have players and management who are so deeply ingrained that they are almost part of the very fabric of the club. Terry and Lampard embody what it is to be Chelsea, Wenger and van Persie are the same to Arsenal. No such comparison can be drawn for Manchester City.

All of this is why it gave me such pleasure to watch Mikel Arteta hit a late winner at the Emirates yesterday. A football club with a bit of tradition is going to win the league this season. Scholes has almost become a tradition in of himself, and his excellent goal to see off QPR further vindicates his return to the side.

Arteta’s late strike perhaps signifies the revival of another football club that values tradition.

Arsenal’s woes of two months ago suddenly look very far away. The calls for Wenger’s head look more foolish by the day as his side plays with a fresh impetus and determination. The significance of Arsenal’s recovery will only be truly tested next season, but for now their form is highly rewarding to watch.

The history books will show that Easter Sunday’s fixtures resulted in victories for Manchester United and Arsenal, but I know better: football was the winner there.

In the Lap of the Footballing Gods

I had intended to calm down and reflect upon today’s events before putting finger to keyboard, but after several hours of staring into the middle-distance – haunted by the horrifying, paralysing, gut-wrenching images that I now suspect have permanently scorched into my retinas – I think I may as well write this now, because I may never fully get over what happened today.

Improbably, unbelievably, yet undeniably, the South Coast Derby bragging rights have once again been snatched away from Southampton in a cruel twist of fate; overwhelming euphoria was sucked out of me and replaced by a sickening feeling in my stomach – all in the space of a second.

A ridiculously sweet strike from David Norris in the 93^rd minute silenced what had previously been a stadium absolutely rocking. Flares were going off, some fans were on the pitch, but most importantly, I had thought, Pompey would be going home with their tails between their legs knowing that they had surrendered us a massive three points. Instead, they were the jubilant ones and I sat with my head in my hands for a good ten minutes after the final whistle.

These are the margins, the highs and lows of football as dictated to all of us Believers by the footballing Gods. 

Southampton dominated the first half this afternoon. Billy Sharp broke the deadlock with a neat finish to spark the first of the day’s wild celebrations. Soon after, however, Chris Maguire arrowed home a shot off the underside of Kelvin Davis’ crossbar. Saints threatened again through Lallana, Lambert and Hooiveld, but somehow the scores were level at the break.

Portsmouth ‘keeper Ashdown made two superb saves to keep the home side out early in the second period; first he kept out Lallana’s stunning volley, next he reacted brilliantly to stop Fonte’s close range header. It seemed as though Southampton would continue to turn the screw until the pressure told, but as the half wore on it was the visitors who were growing into the game. Perhaps it was the absence of Morgan Schneiderlin, withdrawn after a vicious early challenge from Varney, that affected the Saints, but they were no longer in control of the midfield, or the match.

Frustration grew amongst the fans as Southampton’s play looked more and more aimless; Lambert – clearly not fully fit after missing last week’s trip to Blackpool – carried little of his usual threat, while Guly’s performance was so lacklustre that his substitution was called for and then applauded by the home fans. With just minutes remaining, Lallana was sent through by Fonte but inexplicably decided to try to round the ‘keeper rather than shoot. He ran the ball out of play and went over Ashdown’s dive, almost apologetically appealing for a spot-kick.

As the game entered stoppage time Lallana whipped a corner into the near post, a flick-on sent it across the six-yard box, and Billy Sharp poked it past Ashdown and into the bottom corner of the net. Indescribable levels of jubilation swept the ground not once but twice as the referee overruled his assistant’s flag and awarded the goal. Four minutes were added, but Portsmouth looked spent; they had never seriously threatened all game and it would take something very special now to deny Southampton a wonderfully significant Derby-day victory.

To my disbelief, they found that something special. In the dying embers of stoppage time, Norris struck an unstoppable volley past Davis and the day’s, and possibly the season’s, complexion changed.

An appalling way to spend an afternoon, I’m sure you will agree. But I think, as I read smug and premature comments from supporters of teams affected, that I see some light at the end of the tunnel. Yes, of course! There are other football matches, still.

I have only one day to wait until my next foray into the realm of the emotional rollercoaster – Southampton’s bid for promotion. Crystal Palace away, a travelling contingent of just under 6,000 Saints fans, and no better way to spend Easter Monday. A win there and I might, just might, bring myself to forgive the footballing Gods for the unspeakably unjust events they conjured up today. I may not understand Their judgements, but I have a little faith.