To some, it may have seemed like an innocuous football incident, barely worth a passing mention. But to me, its seriousness can never be overstated.
It was the moment that Sidaway forgot The Lag Way.
Reflections on Failure by Lag Supremo Ian Reeves
[Pick over the Gory Details]
There's a defining moment in every World Cup manager's campaign. A moment that will continue to live with them, replayed constantly during nights of fitful sleep and days of restless wandering. A moment seared on their mind, not just for the duration of the tournament. Not just for the twelve months that follow. But for the rest of their lives.
For me, there would be a number of key contenders for this moment:
Moment 1: Reports arrive in the luxury Lag HQ that the draw has been re-made. A cheerful Groom explains that the first draw was "far too easy" for the Lags. "You might as well have had a bye to the semi-final," he chirps. The new draw puts us in with Italy.
Moment 2: Stevey Lambert, one-on-one in the final minutes of the first game against Leatherhead, fizzes the ball agonisingly wide of the far post. It's a game the Lags have dominated, but it yields just one point. Horribly costly, as it turns out.
Moment 3: With the Lags having levelled against Italy and really taking the game to the hosts, Richie McWilliam goes down mid-gallop without an Italian in touching distance. He doesn't play any further part in the tournament. I remain convinced the Italy result would have been different with him still in the side.
Moment 4: Clarkey and sleep-deprived keeper Ferrari inexplicably lose the power of communication to allow Manchester a farcical, utterly undeserved equaliser with only seconds remaining. The loss of two points puts us out.
And indeed these four events all do, at varying times, return to haunt me. But they pale to near insignificance next to the one moment that I know will never leave me alone. Even in my most cheerful moods, I know it is there, lurking in the recesses of my tortured brain, whispering chilling words into my ear. "You failed," it says. "You let the Lags down."
To some, it may have seemed like an innocuous football incident, barely worth a passing mention. But to me, its seriousness can never be overstated.
It was the moment that Sidaway forgot The Lag Way.
And I failed to act.
With just minutes remaining, the Lags are comfortably ahead 2-1 and in control, causing all sorts of grief in the Manchester defence. Sidaway has scored a truly remarkable goal (more of which later) and the defence is looking untroubled. But perhaps discombobulated by his earlier strike, Sidaway dribbles the ball into the corner and stands on it, like some dreadful continental tart.
A puzzled Zurawski attempts to get the play moving again. But Sidaway remains firm, standing with one foot on the ball in the pose of some lardy statue from the International Art Gallery of Ugliness.
It's a complete betrayal of the principles held dear by generations of Lags. He should be substituted immediately, even if it means bringing on one of the walking wounded from the bench. His removal from the field would set an example that such behaviour is not tolerated by those who believe in the power of positive football.
Yet what does Reeves do?
Nothing.
It's a catastrophic inaction and the Football Gods duly, immediately, unleash their punishment. Sidaway loses the ball. Seconds later a hopeful Mancunian punt appears to hold no danger but somehow turns into Moment 4. And it's all over. On such flimsy pivots do careers and reputations rotate.
There are, of course, plenty of positive moments too.
Skippy's beauty to put us 1-0 up against the Italians. A crushing 6-0 defeat of Southern, including a 30-yard belter from Spence, some classic Abbott fannying, and a shot that looks distinctly like a cross from McHattie.
A matador performance (with goals from McManus and Abbott) to beat the Welsh, who barely get a touch. A cruising 1-0 defeat of Leatherhead (Lambert).
And of course, Sidaway's wonder-goal against Manchester. After McManus has poked home a tricky cross to level the scores, the Geordie legend works his magic. Time stands still (as does the Manchester defender) as an extravagant dummy sees him turn his man a good 35 yards out. Without thinking, he lashes the bouncing ball, which dips over the hapless keeper into the top corner. It's a goal worthy of winning any game.
And yet…
Like McEnroe, like Best, like Mr Bean, there is a darker side to the genius. I failed to curb it and the Lags - and football - paid the price.
Still, it's been an utter pleasure leading such a squad of talented and genuine individuals. And I've no doubt the management team for 2004 will succeed where I failed.
[Relive the Moments of Truth]
Reevaldo Fiddles as Rome Burns
LOSS LEADER
The omens were not good as the bulk of the Lag squad touched down at Rome's Giovan Battista Pastine di Ciampino airport on the eve of the ninth ever LogicaCMG World Cup. The temperature continued to scorch well into the 30's even though the sun had almost set. Goalkeeper Luca Ferrari had been diverted to work all night on some huge multi-trillion zillion gillion Euros merger-deal that placed his likely arrival in time for the Lag's first match in jeopardy. Clarkey had forgotten to pack his lucky odd socks. And the shady behind-the-scenes Dream Team Management Duo had selected none other than Mr Ian Reeves as this year's Lag Supremo.
Reevaldo's on-field footballing credentials were beyond reproach. Indeed, the talented hole merchant had been almost unanimously voted the Lag's Player of the Tournament in Prague, where a marathon-fuelled training programme also found him top-scoring for the old blokes. No, it was more the somewhat briefer section on his CV that was to be found under the heading 'Success in a Sheepskin Coat'. Even the Sunday Supremo had tried to help, grooming the Walsall Wizard for a position of responsibility by making him captain a number of times during the preceding winter. But each time, Logica had lost heavily under the maverick's management, and the question marks could not be ignored. Had the Dream Team spotted some hitherto unrealised leadership potential? Time would quickly tell.
DRAWING A BLANK
GROUP B: ENGLAND LAGS 0-0 LEATHERHEAD
Scorers: None
The new gaffer started his international career in cautious fashion, opting to follow the tried and tested route of starting with Sidaway on the bench. The team followed his lead, for although the Lags quickly established their passing game, a talented and well-organised Leatherhead side made life very difficult for them on a huge pitch, and the result was little goal-mouth action by either side in a tame first half. Leatherhead should have been able to take the lead when they pounced on some defensive dithering between Oliver and Venis. But as the Leatherhead forward attempted to make off with the loose ball, the cynical Lyonnais hatchet man contrived a tangle of legs that prevented further progress, and was very lucky not to see red as a result.
The Lags responded with a late surge and a flurry of substitutions. The best chance of the whole game fell to Lambert, as a typical burst of pace enabled him to stride clear, but with just the keeper to beat, he fired a low shot just wide. With Abbott sending a snapshot wide late on, the game ended goalless. Both camps may have told the post-match press conference that they were happy with a point from this first match of the tournament, but neither side ultimately qualified from Group B, a failure that would have been avoided with an extra two points from this game.
GOING DOWN
GROUP B: ENGLAND LAGS 1-3 ITALY
Scorers: Richmond
In contrast to the Pups' excellent record against the Italians, the Lags had lost both their previous encounters in Milan and Prague. Last year's group game was a particularly ill-tempered affair, but this match for the most part was played in the best of spirits. Reevaldo was waging a strategic battle against the heat as much as the opposition, and shuffled his pack; most notably deploying Spence in the back four.
After the caution displayed in the opening game, the old men flew out of the traps for this one and took the game to the Italians, who suddenly did not appear quite so invincible. The Lags had already created a couple of half-chances when typically the Italians took the lead against the run of play. More long-reaching disaster occurred shortly afterwards when Dickie McWilliam slipped innocuously under no challenge and ended up with some serious knee damage that meant he would play no further part in this World Cup. With characteristic character the men in red responded to these blows with a well-worked equaliser. Pete Donnelly whipped in another dangerous cross from the left; Sidaway propelled himself forwards to no avail, but there was Skippy at the back stick, controlling the ball in a trice and finishing superbly from an acute angle.
England continued to press after the interval, and fancied their chances of taking something until two consecutive errors were ruthlessly punished. First Spence mopped up in no-nonsense style only to play a weak clearance straight to Italian feet. The ball was crossed straight into the danger area from where it was turned home. Then an Italian striker danced into the penalty area. Lag keeper Ferrari appeared to have applied the brakes, as he advanced to force the attacker wide and away from danger. But all of a sudden the Italian fell to the ground as if shot by a sniper, and unbelievably the referee pointed to the spot. This reporter had a good line of vision and could see enough daylight between the two adversaries to have kept an Eskimo happy for a year. The referee inexplicably and infuriatingly compounded his erroneous decision by admitting to Ferrari in response to some furious pre-spot-kick remonstrations, that if the Italian had any sense of fair-play, he would deliberately miss the penalty. He didn't.
DRAWN OUT
GROUP B: MANCHESTER 2-2 ENGLAND LAGS
Scorers: McManus, Sidaway
As they settled down for lunch, it slowly dawned on the Lags that if they didn't beat Manchester they would almost certainly be out of the competition almost before they had started. Fearful of the infamy that would attach itself to the first ever Lag Supremo to secure a first day exit, Reevaldo, in the best traditions of an ageing scribe, rallied his troops as they stood standing like greyhounds in the slips, straining for the kick-off in the blazing amphitheatre. It was indeed once more into the breach, dear Lags. Any slip-ups and the Pups would make merry whilst the second range in this year's Lag Leisurewear Collection might not even get an airing: "Now all the youth of England are on fire, and silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies." However, that would be nothing compared to the critical onslaught that would greet them back in Blighty should they lose, and they could cry "God!" for Harry H. Wombat would be waiting in the Bailey.
The response was too much heart and not enough head. If anything the Lags tried too hard, the result being frenzied fluster when calm heads and composure was really what was required. They had already been let off the hook a couple of times when Manchester took the lead with a superb goal. Their forward turned and flicked the ball over his head in one elegant move, and burst away from Grassie who ended up suffering more Lag knee damage as he tried to follow suit. As Venis moved to cover, the Mancunian unleashed a blistering shot that sped past a helpless Ferrari.
After the interval, the old men applied themselves a little better. It wasn't as breath-taking as the baking early-afternoon sun, but at least they started to do the simple things well, and it was not long before they drew level. A neat move down the right saw Lambert hit the bye-line and pull back a cross. McManus was loitering with intent at the back stick, but the cross bounced awkwardly a little in front of him. No matter - a sublimely arced swing of the right foot directed the ball perfectly into the top-left hand corner.
The scene was now set and who should now enter stage-right but the self-styled Legend himself. There seemed little danger when the ball was played into his feet just ten yards inside the opposition half, whilst he had his back to goal. Defender Ramsey was content to jockey, but Sidaway sold the Mancunian captain a sublime dummy, letting the ball run through his legs and turning on something a little larger than a sixpence to give himself a run on goal. But this was only the hors-d'oeuvre. A sumptuous main course followed when the Geordie striker dished up a first time lob from fully 30 yards that sailed over a helpless keeper and dipped perfectly just under the bar.
That really should have been that. But never one completely at home with elegant fannery, Sidaway saw fit to execute some uncompromising professionalism to protect the win his wonder-goal should have earned. Taking the unwitting Zurawski into the corner with him as an accomplice, he attempted to commit a little of the pragmatic keep-ball he had seen those FA Cup Final cloggers Arsenal indulge in on the telly to try and pass the time as the clock ticked down. Such an un-Corinthian act is almost unimaginable by the expected standards of Lag etiquette, and the Football Gods did not hesitate to pass sentence. The two-Lag scrummage somehow lost the ball and Manchester broke quickly. But a last gasp long-ball seemed to pose no threat until Clarke and Ferrari got their wires crossed. As both hesitated a Mancunian striker nipped in to take the ball past the dawdling defenders and impressively slot home from an acute angle. The Lags were out of the tournament and it was not even time yet for afternoon tea.
SIX AND OUT
GROUP B: SOUTHERN 0-6 ENGLAND LAGS
Scorers: Abbott(2), Lambert(2), McHattie, Spence
With the fat lady having performed a debut Saturday afternoon matinee, the Lags typically proceeded to turn on the style and run up the biggest victory of the whole tournament. It was Stuart 'The Vit' McHattie who struck the first blow, marauding down the right before shooting a pin-point bullet of a shot between keeper and near post when everyone was expecting a cross.
Five minutes later Abbott executed a passable impression of Kenny Dalglish. A low cross saw him turn neatly back inside his marker with the ball, and all in one elegant movement he had curled a low shot perfectly around the keeper and just inside the far post. The same player turned provider minutes later when a completely unnecessary back-heel laid the ball into the path of Steve Lambert, who unerringly fizzed home a low shot from the edge of the box.
The second half saw the old men miss a hatful of chances but still bag three more goals. Spence scored a goal to rival any that had gone before when he controlled a bouncing ball some 35 yards out. After looking up he realised there were no passing options, so he simply fired an unstoppable half volley that crashed in off the underside of the bar. Abbott and Lambert each added their second goals of the game by clinically dispatching one-on-one opportunities, but the traditional Lag style had come too late and the 6-0 victory was somewhat hollow.
WIZARDS SLAIN
PLAY-OFF QUALIFIER: ENGLAND LAGS 2-0 WALES
Scorers: McManus, Abbott
Curiously, Sunday found the Lags in uncompromising mood as they resolved to minimise their disappointment by winning the play-offs. A competitive Welsh side had just been narrowly knocked out of the tournament by the Pups, and they met the English elders with a quirky mix of nonchalant abandon and physical aggression. The Lags however remained focused on the task in hand, and completely dominated the encounter.
The first half saw the Englishmen miss a string of chances before McManus was sent clear just seconds before half time. The huge pitch made his burst from half-way seem like a marathon, but he kept his composure when he finally reached the box to round the keeper and slot home. A change of ends at the interval did not alter the pattern, and the Lags kept carving out chance after chance. Finally it was the substitute Abbott who delivered the coup de grâce. Freed in the box by a slide-rule pass from Reevaldo, the experienced striker kept his head before slotting home calmly just inside the far post.
LAGS TAKE THE FIFTH
PLAY-OFF FINAL: LEATHERHEAD 0-1 ENGLAND LAGS
Scorers: Lambert
And so with a neat symmetry, the Lags found themselves facing Leatherhead once more in the Play-Off Final for the frankly underwhelming honour of finishing fifth. Both squads were just one day older than when they had faced each other fresh and enthusiastic in the opening game of the tournament. But the unforgiving Roman sun had taken its toll, and seemed to have aged by years athletes who in the Lags case were already well into their dotage. Heavy legs and breathless lungs raised themselves for one last effort, but the resultant match whilst high on heroic endeavour, was low on goal-mouth action.
It would require a moment of magic if the dreaded penalty lottery was to be avoided, and fortunately for the Lags it was Stevey Lambert who managed to pull a rabbit out of his hat. Midway through the second half, the pacey midfielder received the ball in the inside-right channel. Skipping past one challenge, Lambert burst into the box before firing home lethally from a difficult angle. One goal always looked like being enough to settle the match, and the final whistle found the old men of England achieving their significantly down-graded objective of fifth place.
LAGS GO TO THE WALL
Reevaldo did now at last have some victory-notches on his management bed-post, but the mood was somewhat subdued as the Lags retired to the La Borghesiana bar for a consolation Peroni or two. At least someone was still able recognise quality when they saw it. With many Serie A and international sides training here before a fixture at the Olympic Stadium in Rome, the walls proudly boasted signed shirts from the likes of Juventus, Milan, and even the 1997 England side who had battled heroically for the 0-0 draw that had taken them to France98.
It seems the Bar Manager was a collector of such famous footballing memorabilia, and it was not long before our host was haranguing Sidaway and Zurawski for a signed Lag shirt to take its rightful place in this exalted company. It would have been rude not to oblige the starry-eyed inn-keeper, and soon an exclusive red England shirt bearing the legend "Lags Rome MMIII" and the marker-penned monikers of 17 aging legends had taken its framed place in this hall of fame. It was only a pity that the same names had not been in the frame for a World Cup Final appearance.
[Relive the Moments of Truth] [Pick over the Gory Details again]