I'm glad that close to 24 hours have passed since last night's events, it at least allows me to put together some relatively coherent thoughts, which is the intention here. On my way home last night, I'm sure like many of the Barnet fans in attendance I was in a state of bewilderment, you may say. I didn't know whether to be angry, sad, indifferent, in the end I was just somewhat confused.
I have been watching Barnet for close to a decade now, so maybe the elders amongst this readership may scoff at my view that this was one of the worst Barnet performances I have ever witnessed at Underhill. Especially considering I saw little over half of it, I am not ashamed to admit.
Perhaps you may feel the fact that the bar was a far more attractive proposition to e after 45 minutes nullifies my view somewhat. But then what would drive a supporter who has missed very very little of the last six seasons to do such a thing? I saw perhaps five minutes of the second half after finishing a pint, and maybe with an ounce of fickle football fan nature having seen no improvement on the gutless first half display, I swiftly made my way back. I, as a paying supporter, was having none of it. I would not stomach any more of this diabolical show.
I have been critical of some individuals this season, but I won't be going into the intricacies of the failings of each player last night. The collective show of ineptitude from eleven men seen by a crowd of just 1,288 was plain to see. Coupled with a lack of effort, passion, commitment and pride, this was a concoction to test even the staunchest of loyal supporters.
Perhaps going back a little on the 'no individuals' tag, one man however can hold his head up high. Jake Cole kept the score down, and kept Accrington from inflicting a heavy drubbing that our performance deserved. Make no mistake, Stanley were not brilliant, but they were as they always are. Rugged, determined and will fight to the death but they needed to show little of these qualities to overcome our lame resistance. A scrambled goal was enough, however Cole thwarted a number of decent shots from finding the back of the net.
The first 30 seconds were bright, surprisingly. A ball fizzed across the Stanley box, though no Barnet foot or head on the end of it . And that was about it for action at our end of the ground. I soon began to wonder just what it was that compelled me to pay £16 of my hard earned for this. Make no mistake, there was no FA Cup magic here.
Accrington repelled our weak threat with minimal fuss. The wingers were snuffed out at every little opportunity. Even when the defence was breached on either side, no quality was forthcoming in the delivery. Set pieces offered quite literally no danger. The other option was to play hopeless ball after hopeless, hopeless ball from the back upto the front two. I recall very little being won by a Barnet head. The midfield was the property of Stanley, they bossed it, and this sheer dominance allowed them to build numerous dangerous attacks.
Back to the previous point, from these attacks, Accrington carved themselves plenty of chances, many of them well saved by Cole apart from the one which squeezed itself lamely into the net at the far end.
The mood was quite jovial amongst us as half time approached, as we made a mental list of what we could have done better with the £16 we'd all paid. The realisation of just how bad this was had yet to set in. We made our way into the bar for a quick pint. This turned into a slow pint as no-one could really face stepping back into the stadium to do this to themselves.
I do so in the hope that maybe, just maybe, the players would have come back out all guns blazing, with fire in their hearts and a true will to make it to the third round of the FA Cup. Alas, it was not forthcoming, perhaps I hope too much. Perhaps it was another realisation that however much you can hope, football just does not deliver what you want. It was a dreadful evening to be a Barnet supporter, a serious low point.
As mentioned before, I was back in my seat for maybe five minutes. Dean Sinclair was back on the field, that was nice, but as Accrington cut through us again and went one on one with Cole, I gave up, with my loyalty seriously wavering. Cole saved it, as he does, but I could not watch this anymore.
If this was a one off, I may have been able to handle it. However this is a culmination of performances that have been poor for some weeks. As if Cheltenham a few weeks ago was not a big enough wake up call for this team. This was worse, far far worse. Cheltenham was down to serious defensive instability, last night was down to a lack of heart. I can accept a bad night at the office, but the team cannot turn up, put in such a woefully passionless display and not expect to be lambasted by the supporters who had to pay a lot of money to endure such a thing. It can't be tolerated.
I watched the last few moments of the game in a very odd frame of mind. I wanted to vent my frustration, but just couldn't find the words. Instead I just ambled away from the ground, not quite sure what had just happened. On the face of it, we'd been knocked out of the FA Cup, having had a very good chance of making it through, but it runs far deeper than that, as the words above appear to suggest. It was one of those that sticks, and puts you in a foul mood for the rest of the evening and indeed the next day.
I always try and be balanced in my views on this site, I always try and take a positive and appreciate how much better this season has been than what we have had of late. I still take into consideration the limits this club has, and how tight a budget Ian Hendon has done so well to work with. However I can find no positives from last night's game. It was absolutely and completely gutting.
Surely we can get no lower from here.
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