Laura Williamson's Blog
Facing facts and the drop...
Friday 1st May 2009
You would think a siege mentality would suit Hull City. After all, people living in that particular part of East Yorkshire pride themselves on the fact that league table's lie. Hull may have the worst-performing schools in the country, but you get a cracking view of the Humber Bridge when the sun’s shining.
Yet the Tigers haven’t coped at all well with their fall from grace. The balmy days of October when City were everyone’s second-favourite top-flight team, are well and truly gone. They can’t buy a win for love nor money (Jimmy Bullard didn't really work out, did he?), and are making enemies as readily as Ian Ashbee gives away free kicks.
Phil Brown was a breath of fresh air in the first half of the season, a perma-tanned maverick with no regard for reputation and possessing a team hell bent on proving their doubters wrong. His histrionics on the touchline were passion personified, and his ever-present ear piece was quite endearing.
But, by December, Brown was delivering half-time team talks on the pitch and talking about himself in the third person. Suddenly that earpiece looked more Girls Aloud than serious managerial apparel.
And then came that FA Cup clash with Arsenal. A feisty post-match interview, allegations that the Gunners’ club captain, Cesc Fabregas, spat at the feat of Brian Horton, that Arsene Wenger wouldn’t shake his hand., that Arsenal’s goal was offside. I could go on.
Hull City were no longer the underdogs that everyone wanted to see do well. They were moaners. A team who had finally got their come-uppance.
But it’s not time to jump off the Humber Bridge just yet. Hull City have four games to turn defence into attack and play with the chip-on-the-shoulder attitude that could keep them in the Premier League. Because, in this case, the table certainly will not lie.
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When You're Smiling...
Monday 29th September 2008
Well, well, well. Would you believe it?
Arsenal 1 Hull City 2.
It does make you chuckle, doesn't it? There's a certain deliciousness in seeing such an utterly ridiculous score line.
Unless you're an Arsenal fan, of course. Then you would lament the missed opportunities, the bad luck in hitting the bar and the resilience of the City back four.
But everyone else will just smile.
Phil Brown had the audacity, the sheer cheek, to play 4-3-3 at the home of flowing football and it paid off.
The mid-week chat was of bullishness and physicality, but City stuck to their game plan, closed Arsenal down in the final third and took their chances.
The Brazilian everyone was talking about played in black and amber, not sky blue - the recalled Geovanni was wily, industrious and his superb strike brought City level at the Emirates.
Ashbee versus Fabregas (even the names sound worlds apart) was a battle of substance versus style. And substance won.
Yes, it's Roy of the Rovers stuff, but who cares? There is something wonderfully honest about City's refusal to conform to the pre-season predictions of the pundits.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright.
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Spoiling the script...
Monday 15th September 2008
Nestled in St James’s Park stand amidst a festering, turbulent sea of black and white, I watched Newcastle hearts shattered on Saturday afternoon.
The Premier League’s new boys, Hull City, were supposed to be the side show, a mere obstacle to be surmounted in an afternoon of demonstrations and unrest.
The Tigers are managed by a Mackem, for heaven’s sake; a lad from South Shields sporting a ridiculous moustache and goatee, who learnt his craft from that Bolton bloke who had a go at managing the Magpies before the Messiah commeth again.
But Hull City were in no mood to make up the numbers.
Still seething from their 5-0 drubbing at the hands of Wigan, Phil Brown’s men played focussed, intelligent, determined football and simply outclassed Newcastle.
I kept my Yorkshire accent quiet as the bloke next to me, dressed like an extra from Auf Wiedersehen Pet in head-to-toe denim, became increasingly vitriolic in his cries of "H’way man! Use ya heeds."
Geordie fanaticism made way for an outpouring of hurt and passion as a banner bearing the sentiment "Cockney mafia out" was paraded around the ground to thunderous applause.
Tactful as ever and jubilant with their 2-1 victory, the City faithful chanted: "Keegan, give us a wave" and "Are you Grimsby in disguise?"
There’s nothing like rubbing salt in the wounds.
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To Hull and back
Sunday 24th August 2008
IT'S a common joke amongst my brunch-eating friends from the South that, if I can't be bothered to talk to someone, I can shut them up in three, monosyllabic words.
"I'm from Hull."
It works a treat. People start looking at you as if you have two heads and are the offspring of an unhealthy liaison between cousins in a flooded bedsit.
The thing is, not many people have actually been to Kingston-upon-Hull. Many leading sports journalists certainly haven't had the pleasure.
"I'm sure I passed through Hull, once," they say.
No, you didn't. You have to make a conscious effort to get to Hull, and it involves driving around 40 miles east of Leeds.
But all this will change.
It took 104 years but, with four Premier League points already in the bag, Hull City is now firmly on the football map.
The pack had better learn how to get here. Quick.
Or they could opt for the direct train from Kings Cross, which will whisk you to the heart of the city in just over two hours.
Just make sure you don't end up in Bransholme – you'll be pregnant or delinquent before the final whistle blows.
"New voice saying new words at a new speed," wrote one of Hull's most famous sons, Philip Larkin.
I doubt he was directly referring to Gary Lineker on Match of the Day, but we'll celebrate it nevertheless.
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