Friday 2 September 2011

The Transfer Window blues - part 2

Window after window, we'd stared at our own worried reflection for hours, and hoped that no-one would crawl out. The locks had long worn away, and frame by frame, we realised this wasn't a transfer window at all; but a transfer bloody door, wide open enough for even the smallest of dreamers to escape from. In fact, at times it seemed our prized possessions were being given a firm shove on their way. Of course, we are only little Northampton Town. Eventually, they all leave the tiny nest for a mansion, whether they take flight with regret or with a determined dash; it is the nature of being low-down on the football pyramid.

The problem was, for a while the door could only be opened from one side. We did not so much as bother to fit a burglar alarm - the chance of a stellar stranger breaking in was as remote as the chances of a repeat of 'that' 60's roller coaster. Apparently, Sixfields cannot be fitted with doors that open from the outside, unless the redevelopment takes place. C'mon Council, it's all your fault that we don't speculate to accumulate. It must be - everything is your fault, after all.

I think this is part of the frustration. After those dizzy days of spending, for a while we saw Gray build a team full of colour, then they all promptly left and plunged us back into darkness. It wasn't that they left - they had to - it was that they were replaced with some kid or other, likely a reality TV winner who could do some fancy flicks but f**ked off when the going got tough. Whether that was Gray's fault or Cardoza's - the facts were that nothing seemed to be reinvested. The only thing the bank guaranteed, were loans. With bloody miserable rates of interest.

Slowly, this seems to have changed. Off-the-field ventures have begun to emerge, and on-the-pitch - the only thing we 'really' care about - Dave has finally committed some capital. That's the annoyance; we finally knock down the doors altogether, and lo and behold, 20-goal potential was standing out in the cold all that time - if only we had bothered to check and warmed our cockles earlier - we might not be on this deathly downward spiral.

So, that's the thing with this club; you wait around for months for a VIP to come bounding in, but unfortunately it turns out it was only the bouncer that agreed to it. The manager has changed, and promptly kicked him out on his arse. The investor raises his eyebrows, but ultimately the manager has been successful elsewhere - so he lets him get on with things. As much as some of the crowd want to tell you otherwise; the truth is that the DJ went home early and we never really had long enough to see whether Harrad could dance to the music. Sure, his initial moves looked a bit dodgy, but football fans have a way of believing football is entirely removed from every other profession on earth - it's not.

It is very different, and it should be a privilege for those lucky few - but every last football player is still human (with the possible exception of El Hadji Spit). It might be stating the bleedin' obvious, but they all have emotions, families and faults. They all get motivated in different ways. We all do. Footballers move regularly these days - instability is part of the fabric of the game - but not everyone gets used to it. Some settle quicker than others. It's utterly ridiculous for us to judge Harrad's future based on the short sticky spell with us - and here's why.

Harrad arrived with a great deal of expectation. Perhaps too much, but you can hardly blame us for getting a thrill when we noticed there wasn't a 'free' mentioned anywhere. I know that I almost fainted.

After the aforementioned 'perfect debut', things quickly turned sour with a silly suspension. We stuttered without him and even on return; eventually spluttered to a halt. Harrad could no longer rely on that trusted bouncer, instead he had to shake his stuff in front of a whole new pair of eyes, a set which doubted anything not labelled 'his own'. If you don't hit the dance floor ground running, panic can soon set in. Barely a minute ago, you came to this club with promises of promotion and private booths. Now, having convinced those you love to join the queue; you're in danger of being judged far too quickly, and being relegated to toilet-attendant. Or worse - the Conference.

Okay, so Dzeko is an extreme example, yet one cannot help but look at the extraordinary difference between Dzeko the cumbersome and Dzeko the cult. He signed at a similar time as Harrad, made a handful of appearances just the same and scored at an even more sluggish rate. I am not saying that 27M and 40K are completely comparable; but the fact remains that most of us struggle to adapt to change, especially career change. When you're settled, you become the sh*t once more, instead of just sh*t.

One of the obvious differences between the two is that we were very quickly heading for the trapdoor - and Harrad suddenly had the weight of the World on his shoulders. He rarely looked at ease, and from someone who seemed to have an infectious personality, it was obvious that the stress was getting to him. Even I'll admit that his touch was disappointing - yet let's not kid ourselves - he'd been in the non-league not so very long ago. Good goal scorers are not always gifted, McGleish was the master at two-yard tap ins, but some never warmed to his lack of nous elsewhere. It remained difficult to find him a partner. He was singular; greedy; he'd settle down to a family dinner and show-off the compilation of all his best scuffs. He never ate eggs - he was too busy scrambling goals.

I do not wish to criticise, it takes much more talent than people think to find space where there is none, and in a congested crowd Scotty could never be seen until it was too late. He sprang, Jack-in-the-the-box like from nowhere, and took every opponent by surprise. See, they saw he scored 20 the previous season, but after 80 minutes they wondered what all the fuss was about. Then, he cracked it once again, and fried us to victory. Poaching can be an art form too.

Of course, he was more capable than that. So is Harrad. Take for example, Scotty finding the sweet-spot away at Wycombe, or Shaun the cheek lobbing the Bury 'keeper with the ease of an expert. But crucially - they do have their limitations. So do manager's though, and ours appears limited in one crucial respect - an inability to show love for those that are not his.

Harrad did miss some glorious chances that Scotty would have swallowed up in his sleep, but we were still a shambles. It's hard to tune-out from all the interference and concentrate on doing your thing - your one thing. Putting the ball in the net. Some will argue, how come Bauza shined and Shaun appeared sheepish? They are different players. Bauza has more ability in his little toe. Harsh, but true. But he will never be your 20-goal-a-season man. He had the flair and finesse to forget the furore around him, but that was helped by the fact he could do many things. Look - Harrad is a bit of a one-trick pony. Even from his tricky beginnings, I was sure of that. It's just when your one-trick is so bloody deadly, people will pay to come to watch. Bauza was a beaut, but who would score more in the same team? Harrad - every time.

So why was his deadly instrument so blunted at the end of last season? And why was he not given the chance to skin-a-cat or at least score-a-goal this time around? Two words -
Gary Johnson.

Forget your finances folks, there's something beyond the pressures of expectation here and far beyond our current knowledge. I'm sure of it. Yes, we needed to reduce the wage bill. But I'll place a wager here and now, Harrad did not HAVE to leave. He was forced out by one thing only. Politics. If you don't agree with Johnson's manifesto you'll manifest yourself a problem. If his methods don't match-up to your own, and you dare to speak out, you'll be faced with stubborn stoutness. His way or the highway. It just so happens that his way has been by and large, a very productive path to take thus far.

However, first at London Road and now here at Sixfields, we are starting to see cracks in his philosophy, and underneath the cheery exterior, there lie more questions than answers. Do you need to be flexible to be the best? Wenger and Ferguson stick to their principles pretty successfully. I guess, it's when things start going wrong, that you need to take the blinkers off, step back and take a look around you at what other ideas are out there.

Did Harrad march to the beat of a different drum? Dare to speak out? His transfer away had been manufactured over the summer; there can be no doubt. Was it down to football ability alone? I'm not so sure. I'm really not. Leon might come across a little bitter, but his ranting must tell us something - there's no tweet without heat. Or something like that.

The silly thing was, we needed that 20-goal man, we bought him, then we let him slip through our fingers. One day, he might come back and Bury us. Be warned.





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