There’s no easy game in the Premier League. We all know that by now and every weekend, there’s a ‘banana skin’ with somebody’s name on it — and more often than not, it’s been ours.
Nottingham Forest will rock up at the Stadium of Light on Friday night.
Sixteenth in the table and unbeaten in five (with three draws in there, mind, so not exactly pulling up trees), but that’s sort of the problem. When a team is going about its business quietly, refusing to lose and with a new manager doing his level best
to haul them clear of trouble, you don’t want them turning up at your place with anything to prove.
And make no mistake: they’ll have something to prove. Vitor Pereira is their fourth manager of the season. Yes, fourth.
Forest are awkward and dour. They’ll sit in, give us the ball and dare us to do something with it. That, whisper it, is where we’ve wobbled this season.
We’re class on the counter and superb when there’s space to run into, but give us a packed defence and a clock ticking down, and suddenly the legs get heavy and the passes start going sideways. A cheap shot? Maybe, but you’ve seen it too.
Friday is a chance to put all of that right — at home, under the lights, with the crowd up for it and on the front foot from the first whistle.
We need the midfield dictating, not drifting. We need the full backs bombing on, not tucking in. We need somebody, anybody, to put their foot on the ball and make something happen in the final third. We don’t need to reinvent the wheel against Forest. We just need to do the basics better than they do, and trust the quality we know we’ve got.
Get three points. Keep the European dream flickering. Show the rest of the division that one bad afternoon at Villa Park doesn’t undo the graft this team has put in all season.
And now, because I’m a selfish man, I’m going to tell you exactly what’s at stake beyond league position and European qualification.
Friday is my birthday.
Yes, I know, spare the card, but it does rather focus the mind and there are two versions of this Friday night sat waiting for me: one where we put Forest to the sword, the Stadium of Light is bouncing and I crack open something decent and go to bed as the happiest Mackem in the North East.
The other is where we scrape a 0-0, somebody hits the woodwork late on, Pereira does a fist pump on the touchline and I spend the weekend staring at a cold pint and trying very hard not to think about it.
Lads, don’t make me choose between my birthday and my sanity. Turn this Forest side over, put three past them, let me sing myself hoarse and wake up on Saturday morning with a hangover, a grin and three points in the bag — not a 0-0 and a face like a slapped arse.
Haway the lads.
