What I.Saw: It's A Theory Based On Fact, Fact Is It Doesn't Work.
Sunday, 13th Mar 2016 12:37 by I.Saw

Arguably the closest I'll get to America, a trip to the New York Stadium to watch the Rams visit to Rotherham. Was it a good day? If you've a mind them please listen, learn, and read on.

It started so well, as away days usually do. The Bridge Inn, Old Mill Brewery, good ale and a generous slab of steak pie, dollops of mushy peas all covered in rich gravy. For two pounds it's a bargain not to be missed.

A walk to the ground, over the River Don, the canal navigation lock, the car park with massive signs about flash flooding. It brings home how lucky the vast majority of us are.

Contrasts. Step back in time, the old and the new, a Grade II listed factory (Guest & Chrimes) that patented a water tap, a stadium Called “New York” occupying the same space light years apart.

A first half of possession, not penetration. We take our entertainment in watching Neil Warnock go apoplectic on the touch line, arms wider than the “Angel Of The North”, he rages against the machine, against the officials, against everybody, to anybody who will listen.

It's not about a goal, not a red card or even a booking. Not a free kick, not a corner. It's a throw in given the wrong way according to Neil. Such passion.

Half time, a cuppa tea beckons, as we queue the shutters come rolling down, “run outta cups” the excuse as the catering bar closes almost before it had reopened.

They might be able to patent the tap in Rotherham but as to running it — no chance.

Just before kick off they find more cups, I wish they hadn't. I dribble down my Derby shirt as the lid leaks like they normally do. Will I ever learn?

On the pitch we can work it out. We are more direct, we up the pace, we look likely, we look inventive, we want to win.

We score. Tom Ince blasting home the ball from the edge of a packed box. We celebrate in the stands, just in front the team join in. “Yes”. Jobs a “Gud Un”.

We sing our anthem “Ince, Ince will tear you apart again”.

One almost becomes two as Ince turns provider sliding an inch perfect ball along the deck, a yard or two out only for Chris Martin with an open goal beckoning to push it wide of the post. A glorious opportunity missed.

Like buses, the next chance follows quickly on this time Martin scores.

Barely had the game recommenced before Lee Camp, who had been getting the now almost obligatory stick from the Derby Faithful, was sold down the river of no return.

A short back pass, Martin and Camp come together, the ball caroms to Ince and it's a simple side foot to pass the ball into the back of the net. 0-3 and we have taken Rotherham apart.

Ten minutes left, we are cruising, river deep mountain high moments, three points guaranteed surely.

An exposition. Wassall see’s the opportunity to give his reserve strikers some match time, to boost their confidence with a goal maybe, the game is won.

He takes off Thorne, we lose our shield. He takes off Martin, we lose our frontal pivot. He brings on Darren Bent, he brings on Nick Blackman. We go 4-4-2.

It's a theory based on fact.

Fact is it doesn't work.

The Millers keep grinding. They score. 1-3.

They score again it's Leon Best, the irony. 2-3

Wassall switches back to 4-5-1. Best scores again in injury time. 3-3.

Finally it's Kentucky Woman time, the fat lady sings and we pull a point out of a guaranteed victory. It's a sour taste left in our mouths.

Wassall walks to the fans and applauds, we don't. If only we could wring that neck.

As collapses go its spectacular. Poor, poor decisions from the inexperienced manager matched only by the ineptitude of certain players.

Could we, should we, have been able to see a 3-0 lead out with ten to go had we been reduced to ten men? To nine?

The answer surely is yes!

It wasn't to be, the desire and belief of the home side took the day, they wanted it more they fought to the end, we ran a handkerchief up the mast and keeled over.

We left to the expected taunts of the home fans, if moods were colours mine would be violet or perhaps deep purple.

All I need is some loud travelling music for the journey. The Book of Taliesyn an easy choice.