Marek Stech’s goal c. 9.37pm. (c)Gary Pritchard
Yesterday evening’s programme cover photo depicted a perplexed Emmerson Boyce with hands on head. It was clearly a stock image, as I don’t recall many Latics players striking such a pose of late – mostly, they’ve been sporting toothy grins while #fistpumping (to be vocalised *with* the hashtag) heartily.
As TV’s own Paul Thorp might say, there are only positive vibes on the Dreamland Express. However, National Rail’s Journey Planner tells me it has been delayed by five minutes due to the ‘wrong kind of clouds’ on the line, so bring your portable fans just in case.
The jinx effect
Despite an increasingly hectic schedule leading to some inevitable injuries, Latics could still afford to field a very strong starting lineup for a breezy midweek encounter with The Glovers. And it didn’t just look stronger as a by-product of eight consecutive wins, though that certainly helps build a presence. You know, like the invisible barrier that prevented us beating Manchester United for so long… namely Wayne Rooney’s extra strong deodorant.
Latics settled into early possession, but it took a while for the Nesquik strawberry milk powder to disseminate. 24 minutes, in fact – the length of time that had elapsed when Andy D’Urso awarded the canny Nick Powell a penalty kick for ‘doing a Fortune’. As in, winning a foul in the penalty area.
The offending ‘Jordi Gomez Penalty Masterclass’ tape. Destroy on sight. (c)BrokenSphere
Sadly, a third penalty in as many games would elude Jordi Gomez, whose considered effort was well saved with a strong hand by an alert Marek Štěch. Blasted TV games! Because they remembered to videotape the blasted City match, Yeovil’s goalkeeping coaches were able to study the VHS recordings and analyse Jordi’s advanced spot kick technique in great detail. Which reminds me, I need to start posting misinformation on this site to throw the opposition off the scent.
What do you mean you thought I’d been doing that already?!
Anyway, the hosts’ controlling of the game continued right up to half time. But there was more than a whiff of nostalgia in their lack of firepower in the final third as Di Santo and Rodallega could not fashion the crucial openings in the face of staunch man-marking. Sorry, what year is this again? Hutchings out!
The half ended with a token passage of Yeovil attacking play, but Ali ‘Spider’ Al Habsi could clean out Byron Webster to take it to the whistle. The players strolled in the general direction of Robin Park for a milkshake topup courtesy Mick’s Milk, 876 Loire Drive, Wigan. Mick, my email’s on the contact page if you want to send me those free bottles.
Drop in to Mick’s Milk and try the new Nick Powell Special Shake today! (c)Simon Thomas
It turns out the only thing Rosler had to do was bring on Marc-Antoine Fortune, and Latics had the goal they sought. Said centre forward didn’t make much of a contribution to the opener, which Nick Powell lunged to head home inches from the goal line, but Fortune’s mere presence was enough for the Yeovil rope bridge to snap. Or maybe he uses the same underarm fragrance as Wayne Rooney? I wonder if that also costs £300,000 a week?
Enough of the deodorant jokes.
Yeovil clearly felt they needed to do something about this. Indeed, Ishmael Miller would soon have his side’s best effort of the game thus far, but could not direct *his* diving header between the poles. By which I mean the goalposts, not the geographical poles.
(At this point, there is a noticeable edit in the recording of the report. — Ed.)
We’re now going to skip to the final fifteen minutes, because that’s when all hell broke loose.
The visitors were on the warpath, and Ishmael Miller was soon to profit from a momentary lapse in concentration, perhaps even consciousness from the Wigan defence. In five minutes of madness totally uncharacteristic of this Rosler side, umpire D’Urso was forced to raise his finger twice. You could almost hear Boycott mutter, “crap defendeeng, that.”
D’Urso auditions for a Village People tribute act. (c)Kroome111
Game over, surely?
Nope. Incredibly, those two tidy Miller goals weren’t the end of things, ooooh no – this contest would see three more yet!
The next two fell to the hosts quicker than you could carry the ball from the halfway spot to the goal line. Some had yet to sit down before James McArthur pilfered Wigan’s second, a stunning display of ambidexterity from all of 11 yards. And some were tumbling down the stair wells when Byron Webster finished in expert fashion just 120 seconds later… in his own goal.
A startled gentleman came scrambling back to his seat. “I’ve been gone six minutes. What the heck did I miss?”
None of the hundreds stood jaw-to-toe were lucid enough to muster a response.
So, to summarise: those goals came on 82, 85, 86 and 88 minutes. Heh, next you’ll be telling me Yeovil equalised through Luke Ayling in stoppage time. What, they did? That’s it, I’m packing this in to start a cricket blog, preferably focusing on lunch break snacks. Speaking of which, I’m off for a milkshake courtesy Mick Milk (hint, hint).
More detailed ruminations