Ming The Merciless & Turkey Basters Published 14/03/18 on Hammers Chat
The time for words has passed and hesitation to rise up has long outlived its usefulness! I speak not of splitting ranks or contrasting views…but rather of a West Ham team that should’ve been primed to roar on Saturday afternoon and ready to charge down the season ending.
“Pathetic earthlings. Hurling your bodies out into the void, without the slightest inkling of who or what is out here. If you had known anything about the true nature of the universe, anything at all, you would’ve hidden from it in terror.” – Ming the Merciless – Flash Gordon
The players will undoubtedly face further criticism before the campaign concludes and will come under increasingly enormous amounts of pressure, however their focus should always be on the task at hand. Of course results are of the upmost importance, however it is the performances of individual players and of them all as a collective that must be addressed and improved upon. Saturday was another disaster both off the field and on, however the shocking reaction of players in the second half could only lead to another capitulation.
It is universally futile at this point to lay blame upon broad shoulders who bear no shame nor regrets for actions blessed and transgressions spent. The supporting nation must stand together in solidarity to help those who have been unable to help themselves for too long. It is the voice of man, woman and child, who can urge, cheer and scream in harmony…that can generate the energy to climb and surmount the tallest of recent West Ham mountainous memories.
David Moyes has to deliver an almighty challenge to those who lacked faith in his abilities and to gel this team of misfits together, to cure them of their ills and to administer the tonic to dilute the toxicity around the West Ham club. This is a task for a brave heart alone…who can deliver a rousing speech, lead warriors into battle and react as if with foresight of impending doom.
Looking around the squad still available, and now with our injury woes further compounded by Winston Reid’s and Sam Byram’s season terminal departures, one could justifiably wonder who will become the intergalactic heroes to save our Hammered planet? Can anyone honestly say that there is a Flash Gordon in Kouyate…a Dale Arden or Dr Zarkov in Masuaku? I don’t think so!
They are in need of sheer willpower, brute force and an unflinching leadership that will drag the team upwards, onwards and onto victory in every encounter…and in those games which opponents cannot be bested…then a steely defence to draw but never lose! But are we just grabbing at straws now? Is there any life left in this team that have not functioned properly in two seasons?
In truth, before the Burnley game many fans were less than inspired and moreover deflated by two recent performances that humiliated any aspirations of climbing clear of incoming Wolves. Many would look to poor performance trends and momentum lost or never gained…as the source of the lowly stature and precarious condition…but in the final verdict, it has been the disappointing results and lost points that have caused ongoing predicaments.
The attention turns towards those within the team that must shoulder the burden of responsibility for the whole team, whether they welcome that or not. Moyes needs to keep the fires lit beneath Arnautovic…to fill him with confidence to lead from the front lines, whilst Noble must regain his General ranking amongst troops that have increasingly lost direction and purpose. The elder statesmen; Zabaleta, Evra, Collins & Ogbonna must lead by example, toss aside any age related aches and pains to tutor those upcoming…to act as men and never say die.
It would be a life less ordinary if West Ham could suddenly turn fortunes around and bring on the style. It would be fanciful to suck up all talents from genetic ponds of milk and honey to inject, implant and inseminate into the unruly hive…but these are desperate times which call for objective plans and spirited thinking.
The performance on Saturday afternoon against Burnley was yet another nail in the coffins of vampires who lay dormant, drained and without blood. There were spirited attempts in the first half, but total capitulation in the second…undoubtedly assisted by sporadic pitch invasions by solitary offenders. This infuriated many in the crowds and on the pitch, but was also met with approval from many others who saw it as a final indictment on the ownership performances over the last few years and the recent apathy in the transfer windows which has left the squad dangerously thin on the ground.
The team needed no nonsense warriors on the pitch, who would not be phased and certainly not be drawn into confrontation other than those wearing opponents jerseys. However, mostly we were given nurse maids to suckle on and send us to sleep whilst they lay around dreaming of Miami vices that lay ahead…shocking, woeful and quite frankly disgraceful from all over the stadium.
There are the emperors who would look down upon bleeding hearts and offer little solace but earn great rewards…like robber barons who suck us dry until we are spent…and a succubus that would kill our spirits when we slept fat on false promises.
The last two matches were indeed those must win games, but the team failed miserably. The fans are at their lowest ebb and the raging torrents will only get bigger and wider unless positive action is taken both on and off the pitch.
This has gone beyond our survival in the Premiership now…this is more about the survival of our club. The club we grew up with, the club I pass onto my child as you do yours…and the fanbase that was once so united in purpose had now resorted to taking the fight into the heart of the emporia and in turn to each other. We should be united…we should be a community but the soul is being torn away from us and the leadership must take responsibility as should the manager and the players.
Whilst the fan’s actions cannot be condoned, there is understanding why this situation has developed and manifested into public protestations. We need a huge band aid to heal our West Ham world…we are the future and shame on Ming the Merciless and the turkey basters for dragging our club down into the mire. We may not survive in the show, we may be sent down from whens recovery is uncertain…but right now we may just need that perfect storm to send us down, to wash away the malignancy, in order for the club and the team to reanimate and live to fight another day.