You knew when Cardiff lost at home in the Friday night game that we would not beat Wolves on the Saturday dinner time. That's Birmingham City summed up in the space of twenty four hours. Just when you think they've cracked it with all those wins on the trot, with more clean sheets than Cliff Richard in a dry spell and an early lead you just know that Mr and Mrs Disappointment are waiting patiently.
In every school year there is the cocky kid who is a brilliant footballer that everyone thinks might be ‘the one' that makes it. He's the kid who gets the ball at dinner break from off his own goalie and runs a slalom up the playground, round the fat dinner ladies, round school bully, up the embankment over the discarded jam sandwich and despite the pleas of his team mates for even a touch he delicately dinks the ball through the legs of the fat lad who no one wanted anyway. He can spend a whole hour with the ball and not pass once. The only chance the others have is if his own players sneakily rob him when he's showing his latest Ronaldinho skill to Emma, the school babe. That'll do pig.
Having one of these players is great if not a little frustrating. He passes when he should shoot and he greedily shoots when he should pass. Having two of them is turning into a sideshow. There is no doubting the fantastic abilities of Bendtner and McSheffrey and I'm all for seeing some skill and entertainment but they have to spend more time playing with each other rather than the frantic last quarter when Jerome has been pulled off. So to speak.
They linked up brilliantly for the opening goal. Bendtner tried to trap the ball on his head and it bounced fortuitously to McSheffrey, who was going to tackle him anyway, and before the young Dane had the chance to go and tell sir about naughty Gary the ball was whistling past the very impressive Matt Murray. By the way he could not be described as the fat kid in goal that no one wants as the sooner he leaves the Molineux the further his career will go. He's not slim though.
Clearly the half time talk consisted of naughty Nick and ghastly Gary being made to stand in the corner whilst Mr Bruce lashed the others about the need to stick to the defensive aspect of the game and the vitality in trying to win games by the smallest margin possible.
Mr McCarthy meanwhile informed his students that raising their game from the insipid drivel they had served up in the first half would not actually be that difficult. Hence the gold and black shifted up a gear to about first and a bit and the Blues moved down to reverse.
It wouldn't have taken Mystic Meg, Nostradamus or a reading of the tea bags at half time to realise that the end result was going to be a draw. Wolves were always going to create one chance that was worthy of a goal and sure enough it arrived in the last minute. In Wenger style I didn't see the Larsson incident, in fact I didn't see a lot of Larsson in the second half. Mind you I was over the opposite side in the old Main Stand staring into the sun and still can't blink without seeing the burning giant.
Regardless of that, the handball, the corner, the referee's indifference to a supposed head injury, the price of fish and the grammatical errors in signs around the ground it is still fraught with danger to sit back on a one goal lead.
We had some late chances. There was an offside decision that was given by the linesman who apparently is under orders to delay the flag until the very last moment. Fair enough but I was in my local pub bragging about our wonderful two one win when there was a late newsflash that the assistant knobber had put his flag up whilst in his car on his way home.
They were offside. Of that there is no doubt, but the flag cannot go up until they touch the ball and only then are they ‘interfering with play'. So next time they should form a circle round the ball and wait for someone else to come and join in. I can't wait.
Hands up who likes Burnley. I thought so. Is it the claret and blue? Yep, me too. Just to add to this I've only ever truly encountered first hand football hooliganism at two grounds and Burnley is one of them. Crystal Palace was the other one in case you were wondering. You weren't? Oh sorry. In both cases we had lost as well which made it all the more baffling for my logical brain. I can almost understand someone being so annoyed at losing to the Blues that he feels angry enough to lose his temper but I don't understand someone being aggressive because they have won. It might also have something to do with the fact that I fight like a big girl. On the run.
Back to winning ways boys. Don't let me down.
Keep right on. Thursday is Thanksgiving Day in America. We should give thanks to them for giving us such a laugh.