First Day Nerves
I used to attend as many pre-season friendly matches as I could. It was an opportunity to get a football fix after the frustration of the close season; a first glimpse of any new players; the chance to exchange a few words with a favourite player; an early look at a new manager’s tactics, style of play, etcetera. Perhaps, like arriving at the stadium on match day ninety minutes before kick-off, it is simply one of those habits I have grown out of. While others would no doubt disagree, pre-season matches now feel like treading water or time wasted. The results are meaningless and often misleading. You cannot celebrate any of the goals in any real sense and so many players nowadays come into the building in the final days – or even hours – of the transfer window that you do not even come away with an idea of what to expect once the season gets underway.
One thing which has not changed, though, is the nervous excitement which greets me on the opening day of the new season. Despite my advancing years, it still feels special. Even if – deep down – you know that you would accept mid-table and a decent cup run – there is something unique about travelling to that first match top equal in the table. OK, thanks to Sky bringing forward Reading versus Derby to the Friday evening, that was not the case. However, it remains a day when every fan can dream of a magical season, if only for a few hours. In an age where social media is king, it was time to put that #ANewEra hashtag to a first test.
Greater Anglia had not, unfortunately, entered the spirit of the occasion. The 13:47 from Stowmarket was running half an hour late and when it finally rocked up it consisted of just one carriage. With a healthy smattering of Town fans getting on it was uncomfortably squashed, made worse once more supporters pushed on at Needham Market. What with the heat, the delay and the lack of breathing space it was a far from ideal prelude to the opening day fixture.
Two hours later I am not sure that we were any wiser about what it will be like supporting ITFC under Paul Hurst. The match had the perfect start: high energy pressing and a great team goal. Portman Road exploded with joy. Town then began to look inexperienced and vulnerable against a Blackburn side which has been playing together for a year. The final ten minutes of the match saw Town begin to finally apply pressure, even if the equaliser was a fortunate one. While it had been great to see a genuine winger taking opponents on and showing some artistry, it would clearly take time for Hurst to finish assembling his squad, never mind it gelling. The New Era might equally be called the Left-field Gamble. Most of us had wanted the club to head in a new direction. It had done. However, with so many of the new players being unfamiliar with life in the second tier, no one left a relieved Portman Road with any firm idea where this ‘work in progress’ was heading.
Were the bookies and national football reporters right to make ITFC one of the favourites for relegation? Having finished comfortably mid-table in 2017-18, were they basing this bleak prediction solely on the loss of MM’s savvy experience? If so, this plays straight into the ‘be careful what you wish for’ mantra of a minority of Town fans. Would Paul Hurst continue to prove a miracle worker on a tight budget? Or would he now be punching above his weight? Who would plug the gap created by the sale of Martyn Waghorn? Can 27 Championship goals and assists grow on lower league trees? There were so many questions running through my head on the way home. Predictably, despite the late, late equaliser, Twitter was populated with Suffolk doom merchants after this opening match. ‘Relegation fodder’, ‘no better than it was under MM’… Unfortunately, one of the down sides of social media is the knee-jerk reactions, the unthinking ease with which people – often not even at the game – ping a negative or corrosive remark into the virtual ether.
If forty odd opening days have taught me one thing, it is that they tend to teach us nothing. This is even more the case when a club is attempting a mini-revolution. A year ago who thought that Sunderland – freshly armed with a £40 million parachute payment – would suffer a second successive relegation? Or that Warnock’s unfancied Cardiff would go up automatically? First day nerves are proof of at least two things: that we still passionately care; and that we have no idea where the new 46 game marathon journey is taking us. The torment of relegation? The euphoria of promotion? The calm of mid-table? Who knows? As a number of famous writers have suggested, maybe life (as a football fan) is a journey, not a destination. Let us try to enjoy the ride.
© Rodney Marshall | Follow on twitter - @RodneyMarshall1
