Truly, this is a different world...

If you want an indication of the different attitude of supporters to Andy Scott, as opposed to He Who Probably Ought Not To Be Named Any Longer Because It's Just Not Worth The Hassle, then look no further than the reaction to the pre-season victory over Grimsby. And then have a go at guessing what the reaction would be like had it been this time last year.

Let's just contemplate, for a moment, two things. 

Thing the first: over the summer, we've got shut of an experienced central defender, who'd performed pretty consistently well in the time he'd been with us. We did that last year, too (although not by choice). Last year we replaced the experienced central defender with a younger player, who'd been a stalwart  in the heart of defence for a play-off chasing side. This year, we replaced the experienced central defender with an transfer listed attacking midfielder who has, in the 100-odd league games he's played, played precisely zero of them in defence. 

And yet, there's no sign of boggly-eyed types raising hands in the air and running screaming for the exits. "Hmmm, interesting", they muse, like goatee'd hipsters contemplating a free jazz vibraphone solo, "really interesting tactical idea. Let's give it a go". This time last year, angry types with veins prominently bulging on foreheads would have shouted scornfully about the madness of expecting a floaty midfield type, who's yet to win a header or tackle in his entire career to date, to adequately replace a proper, grizzled central defender, FFS. (FFS is crucial in any argument of this kind. It's the equivalent of QED for the passionately cross).

Thing the second: in his post-match interview, Scott didn't bemoan the sloppy defending that yielded up half a dozen chances from corners. Nope. His main regret was that he didn't get chance to play Marcus Marshall at right back for longer. That's Marcus Marshall (position: winger; hobbies: backing out of challenges, being unaware of team mates and opponent's positions, holding on to the ball for too long and losing it, slumping into indolent, introspective, fogs of indifference) at right back (requirements: determined tackles, tactical accuity, sensible, simple, swift distribution, constant concentration).


In terms of post-match statements, it makes as much sense as saying "I really wish we could have given Alfie a longer stint in goal" or "cabbage light-bulb occasional table carpet. Snarky hoodlum weeble grass".


And yet, not an eyelid bats. "He's willing to try things", comes the admiring cry. Contrast the likely reaction had a certain former manager decided to play Marshall in defence ahead of a new right-back signing and Tonge.


Truly, this is a different world. Where a manager can try things that seem, on paper, lunacy and not get castigated for it. Where pre-season games are seen in perspective. Where expectations and requirements are tempered by realism. Where supporters try their best to see the good in the manager and, er, support him and the team. We've not seen this sort of thing since the great mass hypnotism took place that convinced whole swathes of people that 80 yard punts to Drewe Broughton's head was attacking, flowing football. 


Where will it lead?

Guess the first team

Lewis Grabban's signature today is the sixth of Andy Scott's close season transformation of the first team. It's pretty clear that next season's team will be very different to last season's. So, what will it look like?

The easy bit is who won't be in it. Ryan Taylor's departure to Bristol City and Nicky Law's to Motherwell create two first team spaces and it seems unlikely that Tom Pope or Mark Bradley are going to fill them.

In goal, Jamie Annerson looks like being first choice, or, at least, Andy Warrington doesn't.

The defensive squad suggests a flat back four, presumably consisting (from right to left) of Brown, Cresswell, Foster and TBC (given Scott's lack of tolerance for some players who did ok last year, you'd imagine the inconsistent Newey isn't earmarked as a first choice). Still lacks a seasoned campaigner to me, and unless Cresswell's injury struggles last year truly were freakish bad luck, it's possibly light on numbers, given Mullins' long term injury and Foster's somewhat suspension-prone disciplinary record.

After the defence, it gets very hard to work out the line up.

There's no obvious front two pairing. Holroyd and Le Fondre seem to be similar sort of players, so look an unlikely partnership. Evans and Grabban are both six foot, but neither seem to play the "target man" that a Le Fondre or Holroyd might play off. Indeed, both are the sort of forward who can play on the wing, which suggests they're not really equipped for back-to-goal hold-up play.

A front three looks the most likely possibility, with Grabban or Evans aiming to stretch the play, allowing Le Fondre and Holroyd to sniff out space, which would leave a midfield three of Taylor, Pringle and Schofield. Whether Taylor, with his propensity to over-reach himself and get caught challenging for possession too far forward, can anchor a midfield trio is an open question, as is who provides the challenge in the centre of the pitch should he get injured or suspended.

The old saying is that you judge a team by looking down the middle and across the back and on that basis we look ok, but nothing more.

If Annerson starts we've got a potentially good 'keeper, but one who's prone to mistakes and to lose confidence thereafter. Cresswell and Foster are the right size, but Cresswell's easily turned and Foster's never featured as a regular first team player in the League. Taylor is a decent defensive midfielder. Up front, we look to have competition, finishers and pace, but no obvious battering ram, which successful sides in League Two tend to have as an option and in many cases as plan A. Assuming we bring in another left back, the defensive squad as a whole looks good, if a little callow.

The supporting cast (Schofield in particular) look impressive, but a blunt instrument up front and wise counsel at the back are still needed, in my view, to turn pretenders into contenders.

The dilemma of the maybe pretty good team that's not doing great

Let's start with two statements of opinion that didn't ought to come across as controversial.

First: a football manager who leads his team to six defeats in eight games can expect to find his suitability for the role called into question. Second: a football manger in charge of a team that lies in fourth place in the table, with a decent prospect of promotion, can pretty well regard himself as secure in his job.

What, then, to make of Ronnie Moore; in charge of a team that sits fourth in League Two, despite having lost six of its last eight matches? A man in fear of losing his job, or secure in his role?

It's an odd situation: freakish, almost. Almost by definition, good teams don't embark often on such poor runs. Equally, it's rare for a poor team to sit in the top four of the league, especially this far into a season.

There's a gnawing uncertainty to this season that makes it tortuous. By now, it should be clear if this is a team worth cherishing as genuine candidates for promotion, worth urging on in desperation in the hope that additional energy will tip it above mediocrity and into achievement, or simply a side to destined to disappoint.

But it isn't clear. The side bristled with energetic determination against Crewe. It showed a collective spirit and undimmed will to succeed in strong second half showings a Wycombe and Oxford. And yet it cowered meekly at Stevenage and slumped in weary resignation in the second half at Port Vale.

We're defying the narrative arc of the season. The first months, spent looking for signs of how this year's team will fare and coming to terms with the answer are gone. These are the months of performing well-rehearsed roles: the noble loyalist, phlegmatic in the face of a relegation fight; the eternal optimist, urging an average team into the spurt of form that might secure a play-off place; the nervous promotion contender, like a proud expectant father, but terrified of calamity. We're now being called to the stage, but we don't know which role we're meant to perform.

And that not-knowing makes changing the manager appear attractive, but it also makes it dangerous. Because whilst everyone might have found us out, and we face a meandering slide towards mid-table, it's just as possible that this slump in form really is just an aberration, a mixture of bad luck, poor decisions and difficult fixtures in quick succession. And if it is, replacing the manager could ruin the season (see the tumult caused by Jim Gannon's arrival at Vale Park).

There's the dilemma: how to react to a situation that isn't clear. Chuck the cards in the air and risk derailing the final push for the line or show faith in what might be a losing cause and come up short?

No easy answers. No certainties. If there weren't so many variables, it could be a recipe for excitement. But it's too tense, too slow moving. More than ever, we need an emphatic statement from the team, to give us some sense of how it's going to turn out. The next three games offer the platform for that. Let's hope we get it. Me? I just want to know now, one way or the other.

A very happy new year (Millers 5-0 Port Vale)

The faithful souls, huddled under the pavilion sails of the main stand of the Don Valley Stadium, have seen much, suffered much. Since Tony Stewart tore at the steering wheel, swinging the club away from oblivion's edge at the very last minute, the act of supporting the Millers has been a question of belief triumphing over disappointment, of keeping faith as circumstances trample on the shoots of hope.

Weeks ago, last year in fact, the Millers beat Aldershot. They deserved it, playing with efficiency, drive and hint of something more. A crack of another false dawn?

The next game after the great freeze would help answer the question. Port Vale the visitors, a team never lower than fifth in the league this season, with the league's best defensive record and the second best away records. A team, though, unsettled by the departure of their manager to Sheffield United, or perhaps stirred and stung by his loss and the 3-0 defeat at Gillingham on Tuesday.


Vale made one change from their defeat at Priestfield.

Their team looks powerful, tall athletes virtually to a man. It plays with power and determination, too, its attacking efforts built on a platform of Griffith - an indefatigable central midfielder - and McCombe - a central defender of almost mechanical efficiency - who break up the opponents play and intercept anything that leaks through. Alongside Griffith floats Gary Roberts, once of this parish, a player possessed of vision, skill and passing accuracy, but possessed too by demons that have limited his career too often in the past.

The game begins brightly, both sides exchanging jabs in central midfield. Griffith looks to force Law into imprisonment, denying him space in which to work from the off. The Millers initially fall into the trap of searching for an opening from long balls over the Vale defence, but McCombe is there, wherever there happens to be, to mop up. Coid reminds the team it has wings, probing a pass down the line for Marshall to explore his options against the full-back. It brings a free-kick, swung dangerously into the box. A scuffle of headers and the ball breaks loose to Law, who cracks a shot through the forest of legs and bodies and into the net. But Mr Salisbury has seen a foul, perhaps a shove in the initial aerial contest and the goal is struck out.

The Millers - piqued by indignation - start to play with a rhythm and a crispness that they have shown in glimpses over the season but seldom for long periods. Jason Taylor, a player who has an unhappy habit of winning the ball and then standing with it, like a dog seeking approval for fetching a stick, starts to play simple balls quickly forward, recycling possession as the coaching manuals no doubt call it. Law, fizzing, alert, moves and dances away from Griffith's attentions, finding space and with a neat turn and prod forward, finds Atkinson, via Taylor's flicked header..

Atkinson, a winger at play in the centre of the field, runs towards goal on flickering feet. Approaching the area, with a jockeying defender unable now to risk a challenge for fear of allowing a path to goal, he pauses, in command of the moment. A feint to shoot, a slipped pass to his left and Law, who has followed up his initial inspiration is free in the area. A touch, a powerful low shot and the Millers are ahead.

A nasty moment follows as Ryan Taylor, shackled by Port Vale's other central defender, breaks free with elbows flung. Linesman remains immobile and the referee has a word with Taylor, but no more, suggesting he saw and thought nothing of the incident. On Match of the Day, red cards might be flourished for less.

That ugliness aside, there is much to admire. Vale switch wingers over and fashion a half chance or two from crisp interplay of their own. No sight of Warrington's goal, yet, though.

And then a thing of real beauty. Careful, patient passing switches play from left to right, ends with a pass into space on the right. Coid, arriving with the punctuality of Swiss railway, strikes an instant whipped cross with his right foot. A thing of near perfection, it swings towards goal, but away from keeper and beyond McCombe and on to the head of Taylor at the far post. His header redirects and refocuses the power of the cross, sending it flying across Tomlinson and in.

Vale rally, the Millers lose a little of their tempo and a Roberts prompt allows Loft in behind Coid. Mullins blocks his cross, but it jags sharply back towards goal. Warrington reacts instantly to gather the ball and prevent Vale coming back into things.

Controversy, now. A confusion between Roberts and Griffith, a through ball launched into space where Marshall is free and on the run. The defence are cut adrift; Tomlinson alone stands between Marshall and the goal. The keeper races from this area and launches himself at man and ball. Everything arrives at once. Reflexes and nature send Tomlinson forward arms first (though close to his sides). The ball seems to strike a hand intended to deflect it. Everything strikes Marshall, the ball flying out of play.

With linesman again immobile, there is a tiny pause. All eyes turn to Mr Salisbury who must do something, must make a call of one kind or another. He gives a freekick and having done so must send Tomlinson off because there was nothing bar him between Marshall and the open net. In the moment, it seemed inevitable. Reviewed in memory, a yellow card seems possible.

Certainly Vale were furious. Arms whirled, in particular towards the immobile linesman. But the decision was done. Newey, as if wishing to avoid stoking the fires of rage further, tamely put the freekick into the wall. The rest of the half was diverting, but nothing of note happened. Vale reorganised themselves into a 4-4-1 formation; the Millers took what they had.

It is a truth universally accepted that a Millers side in possession of a halftime lead must be in want of concentration immediately at the start of the second half and are very likely to concede. A goal back for Port Vale, even 10 man Port Vale, would set things up troublingly. Coid has been forced off, so Mullins is at right back, where he can be made uncomfortable and Ashworth is in central defence where he can be marvellous or maladroit, sometimes in the space of five minutes.

And yet, and yet. Atkinson chips a ball into Taylor, who lays it back to Atkinson who feeds Law's run into the box. A touch, a drive across goal and Atkinson, drifting through the defence like a fog through trees, has time and deftness of touch to guide the ball home. 3-0.

Vale are crushed but not bowed. Griffith, in particular, redoubles his efforts to scrap. But the game is drifting away from them and the Millers, buoyed by their good play are starting to add panache to their perspiration and precision. Marshall ghosts past his man, but Atkinson, under pressure, heads wide. Le Fondre, fed by Taylor, draws a fantastic save from replacement keeper Martin, who tips an instant powerful snapshot over the bar. Randall replaces Law and swaggers, brimming with instant control, ideas and sufficient arrogance and audacity to try them, even when they don't come off. He gives it away twice, but then feeds Atkinson, who in turn plays in Newey. His route to goal blocked, he clips a cross which is deflected out towards the edge of the area where Taylor lurks. Balanced, watchful, he hooks the ball out of the air with the vicious grace of a bird of prey. It flies into the goal, a thing of wonder, deserving of a stage more gilded than a half deserted Sheffield running track. If that's not goal of the season, then what is?

The answer arrives quarter of an hour later. A free kick is laid off, 8 yards or so beyond the bounds of the Vale box. Randall is there and his response is instant, cracking a lightning half volley off the cross bar and into the goal. 5-0. Stunning. Just. Stunning.

The Millers then wind down, playing at half pace, a training ground routine. Vale, to their credit, do not settle for it and still probe for a goal. Slipshod defending in the Millers box allows Griffith the time to hit a shot the equal in terms of power of Randall's, but it is lower and Warrington makes an outstanding reaction save.

And that is that. The Millers looked cohesive, convincing against a side who are clearly, at the very least, capable and effective opponents. Once they've sorted out the transfer of power from Micky Adams, they'll be a threat to everyone they play. But the Millers look, for the first time in a very long time, the real deal. No longer the nickers of 1-0 goals after defending robustly for 70 minutes, or the spluttering takers of three touches who just have enough to overcome most but draw more than they should.

This team had pace, panache and verve, allied to hard work, organisation and a collective will. This team performance was as good as we've seen from an eleven wearing a Millers shirt for a decade. This team will no doubt lose badly at Macclesfield, because that is the nature of things, but for now, it is very probably the best team in this league.