Football is back - the summer signings, the ridiculous rumours, the overly optimistic overtures, the sun bathing every single perfect blade in lush Technicolor. Expectation is everywhere.
This is our year.
Football is back - the nagging negativity gnawing at your ears, the disappearing debutants, glorious rays lost to aimless hoofs, not so much blood and thunder - more thud and blunder. Last-minute letdown.
Oh, I remember why it isn't now.
On the first day of pre-season, Boothroyd built a bonfire, put Wembley on the top and burnt the f**king lot. Trouble is, on the first day of the real thing it was evident that we'd only gone and forgotten the damn extinguisher. Sure, you can try and try to set fire to the past as much as you like but memories never turn to ash. And we all remember that day of non-days.
Boothroyd promised to re-ignite our dwindling flame with a different kind of style, only no-one quite seemed to realise he meant retreating another sodding 20-yards until we may as well be waving our white flags upon kick-off.
Still, let's not be pessimistic. Let's be pragmatic. It was the first day. And the first day at school is sometimes a bit sh*tty. Our midfield, on paper, on a flat surface (hint hint!) looks promising despite a powder puff start. Our defence generally were watchful and resilient - if Heath plays that solidly with the mere offer of a free lunch on the table - imagine if we actually start to pay him!
Then there's the strikers. No wait, the striker. Well O'Donovan may as well have been on strike, because for most of the game he suffered the same kind of anonymity as the ball did from the pitch. That is not his fault and a nice bit of hard graft left crossbar shaking in agony. It was almost a shot on target within the previous 180 minutes. Almost.
Most of all though there was a tired predictability about nearly scrapping for a point. One willing runner might salvage a few pieces of luck, but it was never likely to influence our away day blues for the better. What we need is some presence, or adventure. The only presents we gave York were our timid selves of last year, ready and willing to be sacrificed, even if we held out somewhat valiantly 'til the last.
York looked ordinary, much improved on last year and they will surely be fine under Worthington, but it's too lovely a place to strike fear into better opposition. We were clumsy and clunky, epitomised by Carter's unnecessary bookings and a completely invisible Morris making him seem like the least likely captain of the lot - unless it's of an already sinking ship.
Platt will come back and in-between crankiness, will be okay. Its surprised me that he has caused such a rage of opinion, as he is merely an injury-prone average journey-man, earning one last honest wage through a ridiculous two-year contract. We are better with him and his occasional quality of lay-off, but we could be so much better without him if we showed some hint of forward-thinking.
Surely, surely a hitman will come in soon. Haunting echoes of the big man will still reverberate around the place until another monster is bought and born, or more likely loaned. The only thing to fear at the moment is our tenacity and toughness - and Hackett when he returns. It's simply not enough. It might be very early days, but all the warning signs are there that we will struggle to build on a promising campaign unless we bring a little flair to the party. JJ Hooper looks like potential, unknown quantities can always excite but one thing I do find Boothroyd to be is trustworthy and if he's not jumping through hoops to start him yet then so be it. O'Donovan and Hooper don't fill me with confidence as a prospective partnership, they seem too alike but we will never know until we try. Or try that something different. Any one of those 'supposed' sixteen will do. I suspect the figure is fast running down.
So, finally to the one area we have not discussed, but perhaps the most important of all. Area Tozer. Less bull, more serial dozer, no-one quite knows what he's doing there any more; least of all seemingly himself. I don't mind him - actually he can have his uses as a spare part but when did utility room ever become a place to feast? Somewhere between the lines that nobody sees, he gets out his mop to do some light housework. Area Tozer is clean where it needs to be mean, sloppy where it needs to be decisive and that his most important moments have come from the sidelines says more than I ever could. His one weapon less and less dangerous, his deficiencies more and more pronounced. Please get rid of area Tozer, once and for all. It belongs, if anywhere, at the back. It's called defence.
So to the future, what of it? I am not too down, more fidgety and frustrated. Just three points have left us. The cracks are obvious. They can be smoothed. We will return to home comforts and bully as we do best, but boy can Boothroyd be stubborn when change is afoot. We need small ones, not massive ones but until he does make them I feel as if we are treading water. That one question still remains.
Where art thou striker?
