Twenty minutes of madness. That’s what sealed our fate. Twenty minutes of defensive inadequacy which was capitalised upon by Middlesbrough who were just too quick out of the blocks.
Bamford caused us all sorts of problems – right up until he got injured – but his influence in the opening moments was ultimately fatal. Ironically, it was his poor ball which led to the corner – he should have easily found the onrushing Vossen who would have been faced with a proverbial ‘sitter’. Regardless, Middlesbrough piled on the pressure, and City collapsed. A combination of Whittaker losing his man and Tettey fluffing the header saw the ball squirm towards the back post, where it kissed the woodwork before crossing the line. All of Carrow Road put their hands on their heads, looking on in disbelief.
I wasn’t at Carrow Road. I was at home, hands on my head, looking on in disbelief too. We had been absolutely played off the park in those opening 20 minutes in the same manner which I experienced firsthand at the Riverside earlier this season.
Gradually we grew into the game, and the sloppy passes became fewer and fewer, but never quite disappeared entirely.
We lacked a certain cutting edge. The same cutting edge which had propelled us to 2nd ahead of the game. Was it the nerves? Did the occasion get to their heads? Was it just a case of not taking opportunities? Or opportunity, should I say.
Howson had the best, and only real chance of the entire match, but despite scoring against his boyhood club on Tuesday, he missed it. He tried to pick his spot, but inadvertently picked a spot wide of the goal. There was me shouting ‘it’s got to go in!’ – it just had to go in – but it didn’t. I’m still not sure how he missed. Unfortunately it now looks very, very costly.
However that’s testament to how much we improved. From minute 20 onwards we were the better side. We dominated possession, we bossed the midfield, we were stronger in the tackles and yet we just could not break them down. Hoolahan, despite his efforts, failed to find that bit of magic that we so often look to him for.
Maybe we weren’t patient enough. There was a lot of long ball action going on. It worked at Bolton, and while the desperation and necessity was equal in this game, hitting it direct wasn’t always the most productive course of action. That’s coupled with the fact Middlesbrough were watertight at the back. Apart from Ayala’s distinctive lanky structure, there was little similarity to the mistake-prone calamitous defender which we became familiar with. Last night he looked assured, composed and competent.
To intensify the frustrations of those at Carrow Road, and those watching at home like myself, was the referee. I had the benefit of slow motion replays: Hoolahan clearly dived for the not-given penalty. However, no replay was needed for the handball which wasn’t given. Jerome attempted to cross it in from the right, only to have it stopped by the outstretched arm of Friend. The commentators sympathetically claimed that his arm was in a natural position, yet how can away from his body, outstretched and denying the cross be deemed as a natural position? Or failing that, he’s still blatantly, and cynically stopping the ball’s progression. It just had to be a penalty.
Aside from the controversial decisions, the referee was constantly forced to blow his whistle as Middlesbrough players fell like dominoes. Some genuinely injured, others clearly just wasting time. The referee was undermined by such gamesmanship and blew up even when the injury present was not head-related. Perhaps a clever ploy by the ‘Boro players to break up City’s flow.
Seven minutes of added time were awarded, but there would be no last-gasp drama on this occasion. Instead a fairly resounding sinking feeling as the travelling fans’ celebrations reverberated around Carrow Road.
But this ‘fate’ I’ve mentioned, it’s not all that bad, is it? We’ve got a guaranteed place in the play-offs, and while it pains me to try and comprehend that as a gain at this moment in time, it’s a priceless commodity considering we were so far adrift just months ago under Neil Adams.
His successor, Alex Neil, has made the best start as Norwich City manager in our entire league history. The aim when he arrived was to claw our way back into the play-offs and get to 6th position. We achieved that. Then it was to push on and ‘see how far we [could] get’. We most certainly gave that a proper good go. In the end, to no avail, and there’s many games (chiefly under Adams) we can look back on and blame for that. Perhaps the title of this article should not be ‘twenty minutes of madness sealed our fate’ but instead ’32 games under Adams equating to only 40 points having lost 13, sealed our fate’. Admittedly, that doesn’t quite have the same ring to it but you can see my point.
Unless a series of miracles happen as the Easter holidays die away, we will have to settle for the ‘lottery’ that is the play-offs. But if I were a betting man, I’d fancy our odds under Alex Neil.
Don’t give up the hope just yet – there’s still a rollercoaster to ride and it may well finish at Wembley. Perhaps even a Norwich-Ipswich final. Such a fixture offers the prospect of heaven or hell, with just a sorry slip and an emphatic kick between the two.
I’m confident we can do it. After all, it’s better to know you’re heading for the play-offs than to drop into third on the last day, and then face two legs in a spiral of negative momentum.
The glimmer of the Premier League is now slightly dimmer, but still very much achievable.
Keep the faith and keep following. Two big games still to play. OTBC.
