Brentford (3) 4 MacDonald 10,33 (2 pens), Weston 35, 79
Gillingham (0) 0
Att. 6,036
Entrance: £22
Programme: £3
Mileage: 100/5,230
Match Report
There have not been many occasions in my football supporting lifetime that I’ve felt the need to leave a game with more than 10 minutes remaining, but when Myles Weston’s shot cannoned off a post only to rebound into the net off the back of Alan Julian, I just could not stomach any more.It is true to say that the unlucky rebound was par for the course on a day when Gillingham had no rub of the green, but the manner of the capitulation rendered the end whistle abuse of manager Stimson predictable, not that I was hanging around to utter my tuppence worth.
Train fares, match ticket, a programme and a cup of gnats piss masquerading as tea left me with little change from £45 and left me musing how I might better have spent the money. Firstly, I could have bought eight packets of cigarettes, not that I smoke or advocating that the weed is better for your health than Gillingham Football Club but I’m sure they would have resulted in greater satisfaction. I could have parked my backside on a bar stool at the local tonight and consumed about a dozen pints of Harveys, once again it wouldn’t do my health any good but, with my low capacity for drink, it would have obliterated this memory for a week. Or I could have alighted the train at Charing Cross, wandered under the Arches and passed the money on to one of the homeless, true they would probably have spent the cash on beer and fags but it would have done my soul the world of good.
And that is the crux of the problem at this moment, those that should be the heart and soul of our club, the players and the management, are showing scant regard for the wearing of the shirt. Less than three weeks ago they stood accused of a lack of pride, effort, call it what you like, in the FA Cup defeat at Accrington. Three draws papered over the cracks, but today the lack of any backbone surfaced again as Brentford inflicted the heaviest defeat of the season.
It could have been so different. Kicking towards almost 1,200 of their own supporters, Mark Bentley and new signing James Walker opened up the home defence to allow Simeon Jackson a one-on-one with Bees’ keeper Wojciech Szczesny. Such is Jackson’s luck at this moment in time that the merest touch from the keeper was enough to steer it onto the inside of the post and eventually to safety. Chances for Andy Barcham and Jackson followed before an inexplicable back pass from Darren Dennehy (pictured) sent Charlie MacDonald clear only to be brought down in the box by Alan Julian for an incontestable penalty that was converted by the ex-Gravesend striker. In what might be considered the only good fortune enjoyed by the visitors all afternoon, the Gills’ keeper was unpunished in terms of a card for the foul.If the first penalty carried no doubt, the second certainly did. Kevin Maher was adjudged to have fouled another Bee with an unpronounceable name, Toumani Diagouraga, just inside the box. Even from the length of the field, it could clearly be seen that Maher won the ball. MacDonald struck the spot kick high into the opposite corner to his first to double the home advantage. And from that unfortunate decision, Gillingham as an opposition, gave up the ghost.
Within two minutes, Myles Weston seized on Julian’s clearance 30 yards from goal and brushed aside a couple of spineless challenges to rifle a third.
James Walker managed to make no contact with a header when it was easier to score prior to half time and when he blazed over early in the second half from close range after a Bentley header had been touched onto the bar, it signaled the end of a less than auspicious debut.
Brentford played the second half in cruise control and Gillingham had little in the way of guile or spirit to shake them from their slumbers. Luke Rooney, on as substitute for Walker, loosely cleared to Weston who strolled into the box and unleashed a fierce shot that rattled the upright only for the rebound to hit the unfortunate Julian on the back and end up in the net.
If my team had no stomach for the fight, then neither would I. Enough was enough, and judging by the amount of disgruntled Gillingham supporters on the platform at Brentford Station for the early train back to Waterloo, plenty had taken the same action. Those that remained were clearly on a course to vent their spleen at the under-fire manager and his gutless charges who deserved no less than every decibel of abuse that was hurled at them.
Brentford are no Norwich, Leeds, Charlton or Southampton, all of whom will be faced in the coming weeks and in the wake of this debacle the outcomes do not bearing thinking about unless you have spent your £45 wisely.
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