TF Match Report – Birmingham City 2-3 Newcastle UTD, Cup 4th round – substack.com

It’s easy to get into lazy clichés and call Birmingham Sitola. This is because Birmingham is actually total and complete shitola.

The center is basically one shopping center BIG 70s; Walking through Digbeth after an industrial wasteland, with a random sex shop, an opportunistic parking and a genetrated bar. Oh, but at the end lies the magic soft of St andrews @knightshead Park. This is also total and complete shitola.

The end end, which holds 5000, is accessible only through one gateway on the side. Do you remind you of somewhere in South Yorkshire? Helpfully, The Team Coaches Were Parked So As To Funnel US All Through An Even Narrower Gap at the End of Which We All Searched, Except for the “Ladies” Their Way to the right to their search tape.

No signs, no managers, there is no indication of what is happening. And then a total of five turnstile, none of which contains a real human being to deal with tickets that do not work. I was a little dissatisfied.

Elland Road’s lessons three years ago were obviously not learned. Today, everything seemed reasonably civilized and voluntary, but it was more than luck than judgment. While football fans are treated as livestock, the threat of being controlled and managed in facilities, completely inappropriate for everything that anyone would expect in any other walk of life, this will continue to happen.

It is clear that the bright sparkling, US -funded future of the Blue, does not determine many real people. Receive a pint connected using an order before picking up your receipt to the collection point. Except that the order did not actually issue any of the receipts mentioned. Your correspondent managed to be charged three times for a pint with an almost inevitably soda. It was a little muttering.

So imagine my uncontrollable joy when I reached my place just in time to see an angular adherent to the distant post, where a completely free title and a few challenges, as weak and overrated as my pint allowed a little punch in blue On the web. Several incurable locals descended from the side of this inimitable style, refined by those special young boys in Blackburn. The thunder has become an all -consuming rage.

It is supposed that Tino’s job is to get to the long run, the prelude to the most tingling afternoons when he was repeatedly with the skin of the difficult. 14 of the blue ones. Throughout the park, the hosts were faster to the ball, more successful, more physical. It is hardly surprising given that we have made nine changes, many of which have not played for several months. The work of the Pope’s feet barely inspired confidence. Even more chances came and left. Fury was becoming a living nightmare.

Fortunately, everything was not lost. I would like to tell you something about the two goals that brought us back in things. Unfortunately, the view of line 7 from the visiting end through the gloomy drizzly Brummy Murk suggested a little insight. The first we all thought was marked for offside until no one was celebrating. The second looked like a chaotic struggle, which again did not disturb the network. It was a strange disorienting experience.

Without obviously, we got in any way, but just when it looked like we had found a way out of the hole we would dig for ourselves, the ball went down at the end of the box and Iwata Thunderbastard made it in a way reminiscent of the White Hart Lane. A total fluc that threatened to become Ronnie Radford for the Tiktok generation.

If I had a time to gather some sober perspective, I may have thought about the fact that in the second minute we were caught tried thousands of times. Even with an impromptu front, a threesome with the right, we had cut them every time we actually strung two passages together. There was actually nothing to fear here. Except perhaps the fear itself.

And so the second half was relatively easy to play. Sandro replaced Bruno at a half -time, which was probably pre -planned before Murphy and Fabs came to Wilson and burn early. But it was still an impromptu second XI, which had too much quality for the hosts, who resorted to a complete physical attack, unverified by a referee who had apparently lost all control. The first Fab and then little Joe were sent to the advertising warehouses, with the latter barely concealed bodysters.

Gradually, we got out and our best agreed matching period gave the winner, Longstaff slid into Willock, which slid the ball through the goalkeeper’s feet. The end end found his voice at the top. The mothers were in readiness mode for tea -related news once more. The laughing delusions of the locals revealed to everyone. I cheered a little.

There was still time for Murphy to demonstrate that his recent transformation had done nothing about his ability to end one of one-beverage no one, but no one was expecting another result. Fortunately, even 12 minutes of stopping and the appearance of Grant Hanley did nothing to disturb us.

As a matter of fact, we learned a little that we didn’t know anymore. Miley looked promising, stunning lively and blown up with a pleasant agricultural physics, Longstaff looked regressingly anxious. God knows what Sandro did from all this.

But in the end, we won a football match straight from the 70s of the last century, in a football playground since the 70s of the last century, in a city since the 1970s From the 70s.

We may not be trapped in the past anymore. Maybe our future will finally be different.

Matthew Philpots