Due to the arctic conditions engulfing Britain this week, I reluctantly gave my midweek trip back to the Potteries a rethink. The game went ahead, but I decided against making the trek as the risk of being stranded in central Manchester upon my return was not one I felt like taking.
Luckily for me however, due to the Manchester Carling Cup derby being cancelled and Sky Sports desperately needing to fill the vacant footballing void, they took their cameras to Ice Station Britannia and covered our clash against Fulham.
It was a slightly surreal experience watching a Stoke home game on TV. I couldn't stop thinking of the various sights and sounds I was missing out on. The smell of over-priced offal burgers wafting through the air. The team walking out to "We'll be with you", Stoke's official 'hit' single from our glorious 1972 League Cup win. That first guttural roar from the crowd as we go on our first attack. Even the first clueless moan from the elderly woman who has sat behind me for the past 5 or 6 years has it's own endearing nature to it. Despite all the football she has seen, she still doesn't quite grasp the concept of playing the ball back to the keeper ("oh nooooo what's he going that way for!!!!"). Then however, I looked outside and saw the blanket of ice and snow and thought of how cold the Brit could be even in the height of summer......perhaps I wasn't missing out that much.
The visitors edged the first 10 minutes, but then the Turkish terror Tuncay (mmm that's good alliteration), nodded home from close range to give us the lead. Fulham's defence struggled to contain our aerial threat from set pieces for the whole game with our centre halves Shawcross and Faye, as well as big Mama Sidibe, winning countless headers and causing all sorts of problems.
Stoke haven't scored more than two goals in the Premiership since we beat Villa 3-2 in our first home game last season. Over 50 games have come and gone since that glorious day and in very few has such a feat even seemed a remote possibility. When Faye scrambled home our second goal on 34 minutes from yet another set piece, the unthinkable looked to be on. Fulham couldn't handle our physical presence and Tuncay and Etherington were once again running a defence ragged.
Five minutes later and after a superb passing move that once again belied our route-one reputation, Etherington flicked on to Mama and Sidibe shocked everyone by providing a lethal finish to rocket the ball into the back of the net. A Mama goal is rare enough, but one with his feet is almost unheard of. Nevertheless, he confidently stroked it home and sent us into the half time break 3 goals to the good.
Job done. 3 points in the bag. Stoke were cruising and could really have been 4 or 5 goals up. According to Jeff Stelling and Alan Curbishley in the studio, the game was already won.
Oh how little they know. I guarantee there wouldn't have been a single Stoke fan in that stadium who at half time didn't turn to their companions and mutter "it's not safe yet". Maybe it's due to years of under achievement and disappointment that we Stoke fans are naturally a pessimistic people. Maybe it's due to the countless squandered leads so far this season (Wolves and Chelsea at home, Hull and Everton away spring to mind). Regardless of what led to this mentality, one thing for sure is that Stoke fans are always wary of our own team's remarkable ability to make hard work of anything.
As expected, Tony clearly told the boys to sit back and soak up pressure in the second half. I say 'as expected' because Tony clearly tells the boys to sit back and soak up pressure when we are a goal down away from home. The fact he advised it today was hardly surprising. We looked solid for a while but on the hour mark Duff took a long range effort that received an unfortunate deflection to send it beyond Simonsen in the Stoke goal. It was around this point I adopted my usual 'Stoke holding onto a lead' stance, head in hands, top pulled up to below nose, glancing out gingerly through fingers.
The game was fairly even for most of the second half, Fuller had come on to replace the injured Tuncay in the first and he continued where the Turk left off. Riccy twisted and turned and created a couple of good chances for himself, one of which seemed destined for the far corner only for Schwarzer to deny him with a fantastic reaction save.
Sure enough, with 85 minutes played, Fulham's Clint Dempsey smashed home a superb volley from some distance out which looped over a stranded Simmo and set up the nerviest of finishes. I could imagine the change in atmosphere this goal caused at the Brit all too well. Nervous glances would be exchanged, conversations become more heated and the 'Stoke holding onto a lead' stance would become more widespread. The crushing inevitability of Stoke throwing away a seemingly unassailable lead was slowly coming to pass.
Or so I thought. Somehow the unthinkable happened and the Stoke team dug in and kept Fulham at bay to hold on for the much needed win. Naturally there was to be 5 minutes of injury time played first. This is barely a surprise anymore, few games at the Brit incur anything less than 4 minutes extra time and it's simply become accepted practice.
Far from being the enjoyable rout promised by the first half, the game turned into a tortuous slog that was to be endured almost as a punishment. When the final whistle went, I didn't leap around or cheer like one might after a typical 3-2 victory. I simply sat back and exhaled for what seemed like the first time in ten minutes, letting out a hard earned sigh of relief.
I was relieved not only to have held on for the win, but also to have ended our poor streak of late and to have once again remembered how to score goals. We may have made hard work of it, but we got there in the end.
It was undeniably a fine 3-2 victory. Just once though i'd like to really hammer a team. I'd like to sit back and patronisingly laugh as our third or fourth goal went it. I'd like to goad the away fans with chants like "you're not very good" and "time to go", classics you can only really trot out when the victory is assured. These laid back and leisurely games are a thing of the past for us now however. Gone are the days where we could take a lead at home and look commanding and unflappable. Now we are in the big leagues, any time we take the lead at home it's cause for the paramedic's to be on stand by a mass outbreak of panic attacks. One day perhaps we'll whip someone 3 or 4 nil, but for now, I fear i'll be seeing a lot more of the 'Stoke holding onto a lead' stance.
Right now however, we are on 24 points and 10th in the league. Things are looking up. It's amazing what a difference a game makes.
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