Sydney FC 3 Western United 4
Sydney FC Women 1 Newcastle Jets 2
How’s that for a couple of scorelines at home; a club that purports to be the biggest in the league, with aspirations of Asian glory while entertaining the fans week in week out, absolutely outsmarted not once but twice in a Jekyll and Hyde display of the most abysmal football you’re likely to encounter in one sitting. Whatever was said at half time in these two games must rank highly as the worst tactical interventions of all time, both the men’s and women’s teams throwing away a lead to surrender meekly to vastly inferior opposition. Was this a one-off, or are we now following a third-rate club, who might scrape into the finals if they’re lucky? It has to be said, in the words of Michael Jackson, this was bad, really really bad.
We were running late for this one, but that didn’t stop Michelle and Carla from stopping in at the Olympic for a quick drink with 12 minutes to kick off while I raced across the road to catch the kick off. Seven hours of driving had taken their toll today and I was ready for a sleep, but a double-header was just what was needed to ease into Saturday night, and what a treat to be playing at Allianz Stadium, bathed in sunshine as a hot Saturday turned into a very pleasant Saturday evening. Business was brisk at the merch store in the lead up to Christmas, and I grabbed the last of the sushi before making my way to Cove Heights. Another sparse turn out from our group, and once again tickets were being scrutinised heavily to gain entry to our section, despite the crowd being paltry. Sydney FC sported their snazzy third kit with Christmas sales in mind, a wise move.
With empty blue seats all around, Western United having won the toss and turned the teams around, the game kicked off and we had no idea what to expect, other than Hiroshi Ibusuki giving us a hard time in time-honoured tradition. The Cove capo marshalled his troops into a tighter bunch. The opening moments suggested a home cruise, but with their first attack, Western United took the lead, the left side of the Sydney defence having gone missing and Noah Botic tapped home on the rebound to have us slump in our seats in resignation. Matt Sutton made a couple of outrageous saves, and Patryck Klimala found himself with the ball unknowingly at his feet from a melee right by the post, but couldn’t force it home when he realised. One of the saves was even deflected on its way and the visiting keeper still managed to push it over the bar with unbelievable reflexes. The referee even got in on the act, finiding himself in the way of a rocket of a shot but it was all smiles from the drop ball. Jordan Courtney-Perkins went on a barnstorming run up the left as Sydney forced the issue, and the yellow card count rose as four Western United players found the referee’s notebook before Ouahim joined them with a harsh booking.
We had to wait until Western United gifted the ball to Joe Lolley with half an hour gone, following the unnecessary drinks break, and he made his way into the box before feeding Adrian Segecic, who swept home in front of the Cove for a classy equaliser. Normal service resumed, but Sydney were making this quite difficult for themselves, consistently finding themselves in great positions on the wing, but without anyone at all in the penalty area. Rhyan Grant was all at sea today, getting turned by Abel Walatee on repeat. But if we’re going to be the entertainers this season, that’s what we have to put up with. The second goal looked to put Sydney in the driving seat, the impressive Anas Ouahim doing all the work to cut the ball back for Segecic, who thrashed the ball home for two. This was going to be a walk in the park in the second half, surely.
Michelle made it to Princess Ibini’s landmark appearance presentation with seconds to spare, as half time took on a different look. A group of Christmas party goers, dressed as though they were straight from the Ivy, were guided to the Cove for a photo. No idea who they were, and the backdrop of that photo may or may not have had some gestures to that effect.
Into the second half, and Ufuk Talay’s team talk fell on deaf ears as Western United exploited the space on Sydney’s left, and the lively Walatee waltzed into the area in acres of space to head home at the far post, although what on earth was Redders doing – he just seemed to be rooted to the spot as the carefully-aimed header found the inside of the far post. Hands over faces time. With about an hour gone, the second half had disintegrated from Sydney’s point of view. The sprightly players that had gone in at half time had been transformed into shells of their former selves, and when Redders came and found Ibusuki standing his ground, the punch was poor and the ball was hooked back in where Rhys Bozinovski prodded home surrounded by disinterested blue shirts. The celebration was huge, and the lack of advertising hoardings gave him free reign to lord it up in front of the Sydney fans.
It wasn’t long before we were believing again, and a corner from the right from Ouahim was headed in at the far end by captain Grant, quite an unexpected goal, and a muted celebration at our end as we couldn’t work out how he had so much time and space to head home from such distance. Had the whistle gone for a foul or something? Twenty minutes to find a winner, and it felt like we were going to get it, despite some woeful football. Hayden Matthews transformation from blossoming Socceroos star back to Sydney youth subtititute looked complete as he played a ball to no one in particular. Sydney FC pressed but couldn’t find a way through, Joe Lolley at least having learned that it doesn’t always need to be his left-foot, but Western United sprung the trap, Michael Ruhs racing clear pursued by Alex Popovic and his finish in front of the Cove was exquisite. There was silence at our end, the realisation that we’d had our pants pulled down, and with Paddy Wood and Aaron Gurd given only a few minutes to make an impression and rescue the game, the final whistle condemned Sydney FC to an embarrassing home defeat.
A great moment at the end of the game, the women’s teams racing onto the field to deny the men’s any sort of post-game spotlight. The tables turned for once, how do you like it, eh? It didn’t matter to Sydney though, this had been an unmitigated disaster, and any means of preventing a post-game backlash from the stands was welcome. Popovic was brave, going to the Cove to give out signatures – he hadn’t sparkled either in the second half – but at least he was keen to give back.
It was time now for some women’s football action, and the stadium emptied even further to leave only those passionate fans who love their club. The Sydney creche was formed as parents urged their kids to join the Cove, although the skeleton Cove turnout was enhanced by some welcome new faces who were keen to make some noise. Sydney playing Newcastle Jets, surely a welcome antidote to the poisonous feeling of the men’s game.
We Are Sydney was long and proud, Sydney were shooting away from the Cove in the first half, and looked to direct the game from the start in Princess Ibini’s big game, and ten minutes in, the sky blue legend raced away up the left and was taken out by the Jets’ gung-ho keeper. The inevitable red card had the fans celebrating – this was the chance for Sydney to really get their season back on track, and pint-sized Tiahna Robertson came on with expectations of a torrid evening. She was straight into the action, saving well to prevent the first of many, but she did give the ball away cheaply soon after, Indiana Dos Santos choosing to smash the ball goalwards, finding the incoming keeper wanting at her near post, and the ball whistled in for a cracking goal.
The Cove was loving it up the other end, the chants extended, the singing relentless, capo MMTV was doing her very best to make a challenging double-header crowd engage, and it was working. Despite plenty of endeavour on the field, Sydney didn’t really look like snatching a second before the break, despite having the lions share of possession, and the Jets were still managing to find space for some half-chances. The Sydney FC junior crowd had assembled in bay 24 to construct the most impressive wall of beer glasses ever seen at this stadium. The sight was so impressive that the security guards left them to their endeavour and we got to an incredible four layers of plastic glasses before supply ran out. Check out this handiwork!
Half time, and it was time for a walk round the stadium to see what was still open, and to see if there were any Jets fans. There were, and I bumped into Lucas, fierce Jets fan and future Matildas coach, who would be in the opposition dugout for Aurelia’s Sunday youth game. With Chairman’s Lounge passes handed to me it was tempting to head up for a prawn sandwich but instead I headed back well into the second half with a round of drinks for the thirsty singers in the Cove.
The second half was already fifteen minute old, and the game was surprisingly even. Every time the Jets had the ball in Sydney’s half, they looked capable. Every time Sydney FC attacked, a goal seemed unlikely. Ibini and Mackenzie Hawkesby somehow fluffed their lines from in front from dangerous crosses in from the right. It was looking like one of those days, the same feeling we’d had in the first half of the men’s game when the ball just wouldn’t go in. Ante Juric’s triple substitution was countered by a trio of changes from the visitors, as the Jets sensed unease. Tash Prior, all of a sudden a household name, was worth three players at the back, the aimless lump forward being gobbled up every time by her towering presence. The excellent Jordan Thompson had a glorious chance from a Hawkesby cross, unmarked to meet a header, but the ball was just past the post and we wondered if the second goal would ever eventuate. Sydney had no width and seemed to have no direction. Hawkesby looked a shadow of her former self, Nat Tobin tried to take things into her own hands but couldn’t find a way through, this was looking desperate.
With five minutes remaining, the unthinkable happened. A long free kick into the area up the far end saw Prior head against the bar and the unlikely chance of an equaliser seemed to have been spurned. The ball was kept alive though, and when it eventually came back in, the ball-watching Sydney defence parted to let Deven Jackson poke the ball past Tahlia Franco for 1-1. Eyes went to the sky, cheeks were puffed out, how on earth had Sydney FC contrived to throw this one away? There seemed to be an extra white shirt on the field as the meek home players folded, and Jets went for the win as Sydney tried to mount an attack. The Sydney FC midfield was nowhere to be seen as a ball was cleared, Thompson forced to take one for the team and hack down her player to prevent a breakaway. A long ball upfield to try and eat away the final moments of additional time suddenly found Lauren Allan, the only player reacting to the lofted free kick, the only player wanting to win the ball, and she flicked the ball over the stranded Franco and into the net for a dramatic smash-and-grab winner.
The visiting players were super excited. This was akin to Central Coast Mariners’ win at Leichhardt last season, again in the last minute, and Sydney FC had thrown it all away. The Cove sang defiantly, the final whistle was met with screeches from the Jets players and silence from the battle-hardened Sydney fans. The Sydney players didn’t know what to do. There was an undercurrent of anger in the home fans, a thoroughly inept second half being punished by a team of players who simply wanted it more. The senior players came across to applaud the fans, the stony faces telling the story, while the non-playing squad members stood awkwardly waiting for their football mums to stop embarrassing them. The referee team stopped by at the home end to sign autographs, which was a peculiar moment, but they were worthy of more praise than the home team and happily accepted the attention.
This had been a disaster. There were not 11,757 fans here today. The majority had left straight after the men’s game, thoroughly dispirited and wondering if it was worth shelving holiday plans to come to the Big Blue after Christmas. Those who had stayed had witnessed a game that would have had the home team at 99.9% chance of winning after 15 minutes, but instead a weak, insipid team was given the runaround by a visiting team with character who rode their luck to punish their opponents in a fairytale finish. It was hard not to be happy for the Jets. It was very easy not to be happy with Sydney FC.
A cut-price Didi back to Carla’s and we were on the road back to the North Western suburbs, where that most-welcome sleep was top of the agenda, with hopes of not reliving those two games in a nightmare. On to the next game, but with the realisation now that we’re not a force to be reckoned with. Forza Sydney FC.