onionbagblog

Another day, another bicycle ride along the Trail en route for a swim. These blog posts write themselves - and we’re not talking AI, Comrades.

The water was still coming in - I think? It was a little lacklustre, tbh.

My only observation to note was that the quayside repairs on the Rowhedge side of the Muddy Banks look almost complete.

A team of hard-hatted, hi vis fellas were ticking off items on a clipboard. The iron structure to replace the one that fell into the estuary looks finished.

Will there be a grand reopening?

Unlikely.

This whole stretch still REEKS of shit from the nearby sewage plant.

Oh the excitement of a Trail bicycle ride.

Ah, so back to the “Forest bubble will burst” bollocks.

Cheers, Bob.

Back in the day and Bob Wilson on a now unrecognisable Football Focus claimed that the bubble would burst for BC’s Forest.

How did that one work out, Bob?

A league Championship and two European Cups later, etc.

Whaddyamean we’re dining out on past glories?

And then last season, the bubble bollocks came back to bite us on the bum. The same claims were made against Nuno’s Forest as we scored an early goal, and then shut up shop.

Repeat.

All the way through until around mid-March, and then whoops. Oh dear. We’ve failed to get over the line. We would have got BATTERED in the Champions League, anyway.

What is so disappointing about proving the mainstream pundits right this time round is that it is all self-inflicted.

Forest have done a Forest and fucked it up without too much help from the outside.

We’re not Spursy, whatever that might mean. But we are a bonkers, bonkers club where some very strange things have happened over the years.

If only Nuno had kept his mouth shut at the start of the season. Two crazy press conferences later, and we are where we are.

We had such optimism and expectation at the start of this season. The Europa Conference upgrade to the Europa League was an added bonus.

And then Forest go and balls it all up, with only the club itself to blame.

Or perhaps that should be #BlameEdu - who seems to be getting somethng of a free pass right now, with little evidence to show what he actually brings to the club.

Speaking of Bob Wilson and That Championship Feeling - I’m going off on a tangent here, but the Peter Shilton biog is proving to be a bloody good read.

Sure, skip through all the L******er nonsense, and the chapter or two on the Miracle Men manages to uncover some new stories that seem genuinely new.

Even the most obsessive of Forest fans [HELLO!] can get a little jaded when the old pro’s trot out the tired old Clough tropes on the podcast circuit.

Shitls in particular has a cracking ghost written chapter on the swift decline of the Miracle Men. I love reading these stories in general about the fall of empires, football teams, bands etc.

It’s no fun reading about their rise. The dark appeal to me is seeing how it all fell apart.

And coming full circle, Forest have managed to even outdo Forest and the 70’s Miracle Men, imploding in the space of two crazy, crazy press conferences.

Bubble well and truly burst.

I struggled to get my head around this. It’s more rock than punk, even taking a few unwelcome steps towards goth.

What a racket from a bunch of young Herberts. It’s a sludge of an album that sounds as though it’s stuck in time.

I’ve never got on with Gary Gilmore’s Eye. Sixth form humour at best.

⭐ ⭐

Another day, another crisp ride along the Trail. Once again there was a bloody high tide down by the Muddy Banks. The spillage where the estuary floods the marshland was almost impassable.

Almost.

I rode through, as though I was competing in the Slow Bike Race back at a schools Sports Day.

OCD wins the day, as ever.

Chapeau!

Everyone loves a big old red boat, right? There’s no finer sight than the Colne Light Ship on a crisp autumnal morning. Sure, the Estuary Wilds sun rays may highlight the urgent need for a paint job. But the Hythe has always been a little rough and ready.

”We go into Europe, all the money is spent and we’re back in the same situation we were when we got promoted,”

Tell It Like It Is Forest Focus.

Pochin’s ‘vile’ rant shows Reform ‘racist to the core,’ say campaigners

An album that makes you want to BOOZE and reflect in equal measures. The transition from Stay with Me to Debris captures this perfectly. An extra star for only being thirty six minutes long - the ideal time for any rock ‘n’ roll album.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

My matchday routine now starts with the early post on the Forest Insta feed. What clues will be given away?

My reasoning is that any player featured in the Matchday post is likely to be in the starting eleven.

Oh look: there’s Douglas Luiz. He’s wearing that shitty Forest cream kit that looks like a dirty white.

A big thumbs up for Luiz, who I thought would be rested. The cream kit can go back in the City Ground washing machine, and preferably at a high temperature.

The team news dropped shortly after 12:30pm. And yep, there he was, Douglas Luiz. Goodo.

I do worry about James McAtee, absent once again from even the bench. Online rumours hinted at a possible bug. I fear that his face doesn’t fit at Forest.

#BlameEdu etc.

Still, it was an attacking team, suggesting that Dyche was after a win with another positive performance. A cursory glance at the league table and OH MY DAYS, yes we deffo could do with three points here.

KO came. Bournemouth were relentless from the start. The plan seemed to be to put the willies up Forest, knowing that they don’t like it up them.

It didn’t take long for the first goal. I’m not giving away any spoilers here when I speculate that Matt Selz is unlikely to trouble the Golden Glove shortlist this season.

A second soon followed.

How the chuff do you score from so far out with a daisy cutter? I thought only Collymore in all his pomp was capable of that.

Bloody Bournemouth. Go away. Don’t come back. Never again, etc - which was another fond Trent End ditty from back in the day.

Oh we had FUN in the old Trent End.

HT couldn’t come quick enough. Time to regroup. The next goal was going to be MASSIVE - which is exactly what I said to my mate Johnno at HT in the Simmod Cup Final, surely the greatest Forest game ever.

The big surprise - and a very welcome one - was the appearance of Taiwo out of the tunnel.

TAIWO!

Shit the bed.

His role these days is as a Chris Wood not so Mini Me. Which doesn’t bode well for Jesus who was hooked.

Christ, etc.

The second half was a little better, but only marginally. It was like switching from an Aldi microwave curry to a more upmarket Lidl equivalent.

Whaddya mean you can’t taste the difference?

This was one game too many for Anderson. Sure, he’s far from shot. But the poor lad desperately needs a breather.

It all felt very Cooper-esque with plenty of puffing, but not much end product. It was the kind of performance that might make the Big Fat Greek kick another telly ahead of an incoming P45.

But we’re not there. Not yet, anyway.

Hutchinson shouldn’t be anywhere near corners. MGW still isn’t the MGW model of seasons one, two and three in the PL. I found myself wanting Sangaré. It was that kinda match.

THIRTEEN summer signings, and we still had limited options coming off the bench.

Like I said, #BlameEdu.

This was an off day for the whole team - something you simply can’t accept in the PL. No one was able to raise their game above five out of ten.

Training ground set pieces need to be drilled home throughout all of next week. Everyday is a GAFFER DAY, right?

It’s probably time for Dyche to introduce them to those training ground nettles.

Forest have scored a solitary goal in the past seven PL matches. It was this weekend last year when the CL dream first started to stir.

LIVE the dream.

How did that one work out?

Still - the PL bottom three has a nice Nuno feel to it.

Hey hoe.

We’re in deep shit. We’re in a relegation battle.

There was something of a Rebels reunion on home court as Reading Rockets arrived at the Essex Sports Arena on Saturday.

Any team with Zain Poorman and Victor Olarerin is going to be a little tasty.

Once a Reb, always a Reb, etc.

This was a weird watch, tbh. The Rebels men impressed on the last home court performance a couple of weeks ago. A couple of big name players from the demolition job over Bristol weren’t on the bench.

It can be a little frustrating trying to keep up with squad changes. Injuries, work, life etc get in the way.

You don’t want a running commentary of EVERYTHING that is taking place behind the scenes. Premier League football has become toxic with this level of demand coming from the fanbase.

But it would be good to know a line or two about where players are, having impressed so much in previous performances. Are they still at the club? If not, we wish them well…

Which all meant that it felt like the Rebs bench was a couple of big game players short. The home team didn’t play badly, but they couldn’t compete with the extra muscle coming from the Rockets.

Oh - and Victor Olarerin as well.

This was pretty much a one man show from the ex-Reb. He clocked up a bloody impressive 51 points alone.

Outstanding, and a pleasure to watch.

Rebels were always chasing the scoreboard. Three pointers were the option, rather than a slowly, slowly turning of the scoreboard with more reliable shots. The majority of these didn’t sink.

It was also a scrappy, physical tussle out on the court. Sometimes you want to see that. But when you’re lacking a little in muscle, then there’s only going to be one winner.

The Rebs chased the game in the third and fourth, never really out of it, but never really within a serious chance of catching up with Reading. Heads dropped a little in the final five minutes.

Hey hoe.

Onwards.