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What I.Saw:If Football Were Cake This Was A Battenberg
Sunday, 22nd Jan 2017 13:52 by I.Saw

If Football were cake. Yesterday at Pride Park, it would have been a Battenberg, a cake split into four squares, held together with the merest of Jam and all wrapped up in sweet sugary marzipan.

Reading were the visitors and we made four changes from our debacle last time out at Leeds. In came Alex Pearce, Will Hughes, Johnny Russell and from nowhere Marcus Olsson returned at Left Full Back. To the bench went Jason Shackell, Hanson and Camara whilst Johnson was suspended.

Derby County kicked off their slippers, pulled up a comfy chair and sat round the fire watching the dancing flames.

This was manna from heaven for the Royals who had gained a reputation for having massive amounts of possession this season already without necessarily being dangerous.

We were being played with. They were piddling the marzipan off the edge of the cake, the good bits were theirs. Before we noticed all the outside had gone and they were into the first quarter.

Poor defending down out left, no challenge from three players, edge of the box, a low cross evades everyone leaving a simple tap in for Reading to take the lead, John Swift the goal scorer.

Steve McClaren was not a happy bunny as he danced on the touchline encouraging his steers.

Roused from our slumbers, we compete. We get closer but Reading are still in control.

A corner, not cleared, the ball ends up with Richard Keogh in space, in the penalty area on the back edge of the box.

Keogh a master class in determination, head down he powers into the box and with venom unleashes a shot that flashes across the face of the goal. Darren Bent’s midriff meets it and deflects it perfectly into the back of the net.

One all and the second quarter to half time is ours. We fight for every little morsel and that little bit of jam round the cake tastes so sweet.

Half time, cuppa tea.

Second half and Jaap Stam’s team get niggly, Daniel Williams the Royals number 23 grapples with Hughes like a seasoned wrestler, whilst the referee just watches.

Paul McShane escapes with a petulant kick out at Bent in front of us in the East Stand. It's no surprise as the match officials’ belief in talking to players had been largely taken as a weakness by all concerned.

Competing in midfield Hughes wins the ball, a wild and reckless swing by a Reading player halts our fair haired one yet Craig Bryson whips the ball off everybody’s feet and immediately plays in Tom Ince. A fantastic wet dream of a ball and Ince cool as ice cream finishes in style.

We lead 2-1, a terrific turn round.

The third quarter is ours Reading, after an age and a bit of time wasting now have to come at us.

It leaves spaces, we exploit them, we add a third.

Olsson, Ince, appeals for a penalty, the ball reaches Hughes, a cut inside and a blast which beats the keeper and the defender on the line, 3-1 surely the game is ours.

Yet there's a quarter left, the Royals claim it. We are battered.

Reading pull one back, substitute Yakou Meite rises unchallenged from a corner to head home as we like statues stand and watch.

We watch as every decision seems to go the visitors’ way, we watch as the referee loses patience and starts issuing yellows. That most honest of footballers Chris Gunter winning us two of our cards.

We watch as Russell makes a last ditch challenge to prevent a goal right on our touchline. Russell who had looked jaded in previous outings had an outstanding game, here, there and everywhere, end product too, my man of the match without a doubt.

Under the cosh we bring on Shackell, Christie and Vydra, we play five at the back, Chris Baird fights in midfield.

We see Hughes, tired, having given his all, go down under the merest of challenges, his face telling the story that his legs wouldn't carry him any further. The referee blows for a free kick, it's soft. It's hard on Jordan Obita, a second yellow flashes and then a red and Reading are down to ten.

You wouldn't know it, the final quarter is theirs, pink shirted keeper Al-Habsi spends a prolonged period in our penalty area, we can't get the ball away, one punt up-field an open goal, we never have that opportunity.

Six minutes of injury time signalled, we play eight courtesy of the South Stand who play with the ball rather than returning it.

The final whistle, relief, three points, a true game of four quarters just like a Battenberg.

And if football is a piece of cake then let's hope Fridays is Apple pie with custard and the custard is on the Foxes face.


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