Well, here we go again. Another week, another vital match coming up, and not really a sniff of an incoming transfer as we approach the midway point of the window.
Of all the bits I’ve seen in the press, I guess the most interesting to me was a report saying that Lambert was ready to walk Saturday evening, Lerner is exasperated, and his wallet may finally be opening in spite of this…or because of it.
Who knows if it’s true. It’s a narrative that could fit what we’ve seen. It’s also likely wide of the mark.
I certainly would’ve thought there’d be money, if for no other reason than I would’ve imagined that Lambert would’ve thought there’d be money, especially if spending seemed necessary to survival. It doesn’t quite add up for me that he’d have made the moves he did in the summer, then approached Stephen Warnock and Alan Hutton the way he has, never mind Darren Bent, if he’d known that come hell or high water, Lerner had said no to January spending.
Regardless, I don’t doubt both men are exasperated. Lerner keeps having to dip into his pocket as the “sustainable” mode of operation eludes him and Villa, and Lambert’s charges aren’t picking up points. When it comes to motivated self interest, they’d really rather this was going differently.
But it’s not. Am I happy? No, certainly not. Far from it.
Am I outraged? No, can’t say that I am, because neither have I been surprised by anything since O’Neill walked.
When you take a risk, well, it’s a risk for a reason: there’s no guarantee it pays off. Backing O’Neill was a risk, though we didn’t see it for the risk it was at the time. Lerner probably didn’t, either.
And virtually remaking an entire Premier League side on the fly is most definitely a risk.
Was it a necessary risk?
That’s obviously the question. And then, as everyone’s been debating, is there a way out, or are we already doomed?
Mathematically we’re still in it, and I’ve witnessed too many miracles in sports to rule one out now, never mind that something less than divine intervention would still be adequate to our requirements.
So, I’m not praying for a miracle, yet, which isn’t to say I wouldn’t take one. Like everyone else, I’d be happy enough just to see a decent signing or two right about now. It’s clear the squad could use it, and I don’t think anyone was ever saying this set of players right now was all we ever needed.
Beyond the window
Beyond that, like many of us, I can find all of this far too consuming. Some of us get angry and seethe, some get depressed and resigned. Some go back and forth, and some can just tune it out. I’m by no means immune. Been there, believe me.
I deliberately try to stay detached for several reasons, not the least of which is my own sanity and that of the kids, dogs and girlfriend.
Sport through the years has made me miserable more often than not. And it’s supposed to be fun. It is a game after all, right?
Right. And winning isn’t everything…It’s the only thing.
What I do know is that I’m tired. I’ve seen this many times before, not just with Villa, lived it as often and deeply as anyone here. Spent small fortunes, infuriated the wives, frightened the kids. Been kicked in the nuts far more than I care to recount.
And it’s supposed to be fun.
But with Villa, I’m tired of the aura surrounding the club, whoever’s fault it is or isn’t, whatever can or can’t be done. I’m tired of desperately needing a point, however ugly, and the twists and turns of games like Swansea and Southampton that see us denied those points. Five minutes and a penalty, four more points, different outlook, that much less required, that much more pressure on the teams around us.
I’m not naive. I’m not taking the piss. The exact opposite, actually. Like everyone, I’m counting the points, the attainable ones, the ones we can steal, the ones we can hold onto by hook or crook, and watching the ones left on the board slip away. I’m not taking a single one for granted.
I’m not saying the points make us good. I’m not saying points paper over anything.
I am saying the points are everything. The only thing. And some have been a lot closer to hand than others. They’ve been within reach, and that’s what’s galling. Paul Lambert’s head in hands and disbelieving “Fuck me” spoken with camera tight on him when Swansea equalized…He’s feeling it, too.
I can trot out little pearls of sporting sagacity like any American: “If we can’t gain a yard on fourth-and-one we don’t deserve to win”; or Villan: “If we can’t put two past Southampton we don’t deserve to stay up.”
We say those things, I’ve said those things, and they’re true in their own way, and they’re completely beside the point of what matters to us most.
They’re the things we use to help us cope and accept our fate, the way we acknowledge the sporting “justness” in our demise. They prove we’re realists, and preemptively disarm our critics and antagonists.
Well me, I don’t care how Villa stay up. I don’t care whether we “deserve” it or not. Bad things happen to good people every day. There is only what is and isn’t and how you react. Hockey fans are realists. They’ll tell you, you want to win a Stanley Cup, your goalie is going to have to stand on his head during the playoffs, likely more than once: you’re going to have to steal something along the way.
Going down is a soul-crushing thing. Getting back up? God only knows. I don’t want to know what happens then. I’d rather stay up and keep on fighting here in the league that counts.
I don’t ask for much. I really don’t. I just want to see Villa stay up. And I don’t care how it happens.
So come on, Paul. Come on the lads. Hell, come on Randy. Pull together, dig as deep as you ever have, and make a stand. Who’s going to step up and simply refuse to lose?
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