“Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.”
– Stevie Smith
That has got your attention now hasn’t it? Doing a modern day match report is a thing of desperate ugliness. Like when you live in an isolated place with a dying pet. It is a task nobody wants to do and yet it needs to be done. And when the deed is done it carries little thanks, acquires little thoughtful scrutiny and at best encourages a response of “well, yeah, obviously”. Everybody knows the result. They’ve seen it all before. They’ve even seen the replays. Tweets have been twittered to death and the hivemind has already spoken as you plonk yourself down to take aim at the sorry carcass. You can’t shock, inform or even blag your way to any great extent. We’re all fucking experts now.
And so there remains the scraps of a game to report on. The macros are all covered. (It was 0-0 by the way if this looks like it might imminently veer off into tangents.) What is left is the minutiae. So what do you give the football fan in your life that has everything?
This match report will thus come at you through the prism of the word “wave”. Much like a Sesame Street episode near the end of a tired season, run out of letters, it is the best we could come up with. Put up with it.
Ostensibly the most important wave of the night was from the dead king. His hand raised out and up over PAT stadium giving us permission to wear the colours we all shouldn’t be wearing. And his own yellow robes were a foreshadowing of things to come.
Buriram started confidently and had the best of the opening exchanges. The more familiar looking line up at PAT Stadium today soon matched them after some early jitters and some sky-rise clearances. Todsapol replaced Dolah in central defence. Even if Dolah has unfairly been labelled as a scapegoat for the midweek disaster at Thai Honda, the decision to bring Todsapol in looked the right one as he played a crucial role in holding the Buriram attack at bay. Rattanai reclaimed his entirely rightful place in goal and lets never speak about how he didn’t play last Wednesday night again. Although clear-cut chances were few and far between for Port they weren’t without some genuine goal threats. Josimar had an excellent shot from distance saved late in first half. Adisorn was a ball of energy and surely must have inspired all Port shirts around him. He certainly did in Zone B. He only improved as the game went on.
But this was a game of waves, lest we forget. The referee in the opening minutes had cause to wave a card or two but chose not to in the spirit of “not in the first wave”. Following his waving on of play, a wave of aggression seemed to flow over both teams. His lack of disciplinary action was a waving red flag to a bull and tackles began to fly in. A wave of yellow cards then followed and half time sandpit talk broached the beloved topic of Thai referees’ extreme temperance in showing more than one yellow card per player. Half time talk does what it often does and finds itself completely wrong mid way through the second half as Buriram’s star striker found himself on the receiving end of a second wave of the yellow. The travelling team lost the services of one of their most potent threats in Diogo. His long cross-field walk was met with appropriate shock and of course, delight. Wave off.
It was like the second half was reset and this time we were the favourites. A wave of a wand and the 6,900 strong crowd were suddenly louder and lighter on their feet. Thai Port’s intermittent counter attacks from the opening hour became, simply, attacks. Zone D first suggested, then exampled and finally imposed a Mexican wave on Zone C and so it flowed round the stadium in reverse alphabetical order. Even Madam Big Bird must have been impressed with this orchestrated spontaneity. In the last twenty minutes Port played with abandon and Buriram, now playing on the counter, could have stolen it but for some great last ditch defending. Rochela back to his usual self at the heart of the defence. Much time wasting and the new wave of yellow in the yellow-uniformed medical staff carried them to the final result everyone didn’t see coming; a victorious draw for Thai Port.
At full time in the far far away away section the away fans tragically waved confetti in the air. Futile. Too much, too early. Their sweaty anticipating palms unburdened of their presumptuous load. They had waited 94 minutes to see a goal that never came. Fifteen times in five games they had already seen their team score this season. But not at PAT Stadium. Not tonight. No fucking wave.
Man of the Match – Adisorn
Even amongst plenty of good performances, Adisorn was a clear man of the match. Often seemingly outnumbered in midfield on the ball, he rarely lost it, won it back more than he had a right to expect to and generally drove the team on with his energy. A welcome show of professionalism in midfield.