Encapsulating, invigorating - the 2018 World Cup

9.45 on Tuesday 3 July, 2018. I had driven up to my parents' house to watch the game with my Dad, an extreme cynic when it comes to the subject of England at major football tournaments. With penalties immanent, the premonition of doom swept across both of us. For me, at the age of 26, there was still a part of me that believed that my own pessimism was an act that would eventually be dissipated by that unlikeliest of beasts - an England penalty win. Deep down, though I would never be brave enough to vocalise it, I had the tiniest bit of hope.

Dad, with an extra 23 years of observing trauma-inducing England failure, clearly had the tiny spark of possibility beaten out of him by failure after failure after failure. As the referee blew the final whistle, Dad wandered out into the garden and started watering the plants. Rather than consuming another penalty defeat, the choice had been made to vanish into the shadows of the evening sunset.

The picture usually taken 5 minutes before an England defeat...

I kept telling myself I was watching 'so I could see which players would be adding their name to the dreaded list'. When Jordan Henderson missed his penalty, it seemed like the push-out of pessimism would be vindicated again. Why believe England can win penalties? What good does it bring to have that inner feeling of possibility destroyed over and over?

But the 2018 World Cup was a tournament in which the strange, unexpected and impossible happened. Only six days earlier I had been punching the air as South Korea led a brave, barely-believable effort against the imperious Germans, throwing the champions into the sort of despair and heartbreak normally reserved for the Three Lions.

'Uncharacteristic' would be an understatement

Other precedents had been evaporating as the matches came gloriously thick and fast. Argentina, who were supposed to carrying Lionel Messi to a crown that would solidify his status as the greatest to grace the game, faltered to a thrashing by an impressive Croatia, before falling to France in a genuine World Cup classic. Portugal, who were hoping to complete the same feat with Cristiano Ronaldo, were undone by two pieces of attacking genius by Uruguay. Even the usually unbreakable Spain nearly contrived to lose to Iran in the group stages, before a much-unfancied Russia side closed the door on them and snuck in a penalty victory that would leave one side of the tournament looking like a huge opportunity to the rest of the teams involved.

England themselves had broken some traditions. Namely, the tradition that they would perform shakily, struggle in the group stages, and that their key players would go missing. Instead, a hard-fought victory against Tunisia in which Southgate's men looked impressive was followed by a truly enjoyable rout against a quite extraordinary Panama. Harry Kane had already bagged 5 goals - instantly putting him into the top three most prolific strikers for England at the World Cup. The only blot on the copybook, up until the knockout stages, was a flat performance against Belgium in which many of the team were rested. But, on reflection, the story of what was to come would never have happened had England not accepted a narrow defeat in this game.

Edinson Cavani had been uniquely brilliant against Portugal

With this in mind, I still had that faintest bit of hope. Even after Henderson's miss, the hope remained, tiny but tangible. I blame my starry-eyed Manchester United lust as a kid. I still have a strong memory of believing they had thrown away the 2008 Champions League Final, a penalty down and needing a Chelsea miss to stay in the game. As you'll probably remember, John Terry's famous slip turned the tide of the shootout irreparably, allowing United's victory. Whenever England are a penalty down, I know that any team could have a 'John Terry moment' and the momentum could shift at any point.

And so it was. Mateus Uribe blasted his penalty against the crossbar, and Carlos Bacca was denied by  a truly heroic save by Jordan Pickford. All it came down to was Eric Dier, who me and Dad had both been loudly critical of since he became a part of the England set-up. I couldn't quite believe it was him who would be taking penalty five. Head-in-hands, I watched. Again, vocalising that it was typical he would be taking it, and my belief that he wouldn't score - but yearning for a moment where he just did.

Eric Dier - the unlikeliest spot-kick hero since Neil from the Inbetweeners

The penalty hitting the back of the net incited the sort of relief and euphoria that is hard to put into words. How can you sum up the moment where a repeated failure which has been drilled into the national psyche just... ends? Of course, if England go on to lose their next two or three shootouts, the hoodoo will return, but in the immediate aftermath of Eric Dier whipping his penalty beyond the Colombian 'keeper, it felt like the burden of England's recent football history had just been lifted from the entire country.

I shouted outside to Dad. It took a minute for him to really register what I was even saying to him, such was his strength of conviction in our inevitable defeat. Eventually he realised I wasn't just talking about us scoring a penalty, I actually meant we'd won at penalties. We'd won at penalties.

6 tournaments had ended with penalty defeat in 28 years. Not this one.

To me, and I believe a lot of England fans, this will be the enduring memory of the tournament, because it came to represent what this young side was, and will be. A fresh start with fresh ideas, detached from the inadequacies and incompetencies of the past. A team with a positive outlook on the world of football, believing that old ghosts exist to be rested, and new records are there to be set.

It was a brilliant World Cup, with fantastic matches throughout the tournament. Spain 3-3 Portugal, France 4-3 Argentina, Brazil 1-2 Belgium, and the final itself, will likely go down as all-time great World Cup clashes. And for England fans, we can look back on a legitimately impressive effort which exceeded expectations. Yes, losing to Croatia was disappointing, but I feel the heartbreak is dulled by the fact that Croatia were simply better than us, and that's nothing that we didn't know previously. This wasn't a case of 'what could have been', because realistically it was never going to get better than that.

Croatia - legitimately good enough to do well at a World Cup.

So I send my gratitude to the world of football once more for putting on another encapsulating, invigorating display. Where the Premier League can become mired in defensive, drab football, the World Cup continues to produce tremendous games where players play with belief, freedom and bravery. Despite its contentious location and quite ridiculous rescheduling, the 2022 World Cup can't come soon enough - and it doesn't seem so crazy to believe that on this occasion, it could be coming home!

England will be behind Southgate all the way.

Orient - Bringers of Misery

Jobi McAnuff celebrates his stunning winner.

Over half-time during Saturday's 1-0 loss to Leyton Orient, I jumped down a few rows to have a quick chat with my Dad, who had mistakenly bought seats next to where my season tickets were last year. We both lamented how miserable the first 45 minutes had been, before he unearthed a deeply hidden memory of mine.

"Do you remember when we played Orient in the Cup, about fifteen years ago?"

Perhaps since the passing of those years, I don't remember it with any clarity. My feeling when I reflect back on that experience is more a symphony of dismal pessimism washing over the stands. A sense of frustration and anger that a team with decent players, including Robert Prosinecki in his twilight encore year, could be exposed with such simplicity by Leyton Orient.

Perhaps thankfully, few images of the game exist.

As a nine year-old boy at the time, you could say that such an experience is something of a Pompey rite of passage. To experience something utterly turgid is all part of the fun, and undeniably makes the peaks of football fandom feel an awful lot loftier. At that age, however, it's a moment akin to the unmasking of Father Christmas - the ultimate realisation that your football team can and will perform embarrassingly.

In case this hasn't jogged your memory - Leyton Orient, of the fourth-tier, came to Fratton Park and beat second-tier Portsmouth 4-1.

"I seem to remember we scored an own goal that day," I pondered.

I was wrong - Orient's Dean Smith opened the scoring with an OG.

"Yeah, and Kawaguchi came and apologised to the fans after the game. He did a lap of dishonour..."

There's always been the temptation to scapegoat. After the cup-drubbing, Kawaguchi received much of the flack for his reluctant starring role in the subjugation. However, his story isn't as simple as being the target of ire, suffering the consequential axe and leaving behind a shudder-inducing reputation. Despite his flaws, the fans admired Kawaguchi's upbeat attitude, as he vowed to work hard in training and retain his place in the squad. This made him something of a cult-hero at Fratton Park.

Kawaguchi's attitude transcended his shortcomings as a 'keeper.

Fans are very receptive of the players' work-rate, and there is at least a semblance of self-scrutiny when it comes to the boo-boys. Benjani's efforts in front of goal were admirable, but initially comical. Nevertheless, he received perhaps the most vocal support of all during Pompey's 2006 Great Escape, which eventually paid dividends with his outstanding goalscoring form a couple of years later. More recently, there has been an understanding that Kyle Bennett needs the fans' support to remain confident; an understanding which has helped to improve Bennett's form.

It is telling, therefore, that the fans didn't hold back in displaying their anger at yesterday's performance.

Chaplin looked feisty, but headed over Pompey's best chance.

"We were sat about here, weren't we?" Dad enquired.

"I think so. Yeah, I seem to remember watching the own goal from here. Blimey, I forgot just how dreadful that was."

"Hopefully it'll be a bit less dreadful today."

However, Orient delivered another 90 minutes of abject toil for Pompey. Cut to ribbons at the back, toothless going forward, and lacking any real intensity; 1-0 ended up a flattering result from the home side's perspective. It would be reactionary and unhelpful to suggest the result has any significance in Portsmouth's fight for promotion, but the performance itself suggests some deep issues that will require swift resolution lest the optimism seep away.

Newly-signed Michael Smith had a fruitless day in front of goal.

Much has been made of manager Paul Cook's tetchy post-match interview on Express FM, but the significance of this is relatively small in the grander picture. A smart brain like his can identify the issues within his team, and there's no benefit to his communicating this directly to the media. Sir Alex Ferguson knew this when persistently blaming referees - issues of poor performance, lack of effort and disorganisation are all problems to be dealt with internally.

Fifteen years on, the misery emanating from an Orient defeat almost feels like a twisted parody. Faith should not slip away so easily though, and if there's anything to hold onto, it is that unlike that dreary cup tie under the doomed stewardship of Graham Rix, we haven't been knocked out of the League just yet.

Matricidal Anguish - The Experience of Playing Undertale in 13 Moments

Standard battle mechanics in Undertale

It's the RPG "where nobody has to die", yet the real triumph of Undertale is its emphasis on allowing the player to set their own path. The mechanics, structure and story influences of the game are finely balanced enough that your actions have an appropriate moral weighting. Killing an innocent creature that barely fights back feels utterly monstrous, as it should. Yet, when approached with more resilient opponent, the perturbing thought of killing being the only option starts to permeate and... well, we all make mistakes.

This, and probably the depth of characters and story, is what has made Undertale a gaming experience that has stirred emotions I haven't felt since battling through Final Fantasy VII as a naive young lad. Though that game is, in retrospect, a flawed, balls-to-the-wall cenotaph of its time, that enthrallment of playing through such a great adventure, with characters who resonated as real people, has evaded me in what is an admittedly kitsch taste in games.

Sephiroth's dialogue was basically the same.

So Undertale has revitalised my appreciation for the possibilities of games, certainly with indie gaming. It's important at this point to say that, if you haven't played Undertale, you should probably stop reading. Knowing the course of the game intrinsically defeats the purpose of what you should experience when playing this game, so unless you truly have no interest in shelling out £7 for this rare little gem, then kill this tab and I won't be offended.

Here is how it went down. The moments that captured me in all sorts of ways, making this the brightest and most enjoyable game I've played for over a decade.

1. Meeting Toriel

"Yep... this definitely won't end well..."

The prevailing thought when meeting Toriel, it seems, is "Oh God, my heart won't be able to handle this game". There's something about the motherly figure, projecting a desperate loneliness in her enthusiasm for your companionship, contrasting against the eerie underground ruins, that forebodes the incoming heartbreak.

Toriel is completely pleasant and docile towards the player, guiding them through dangerous puzzles and showing them the polite way to deal with monsters. All the while, the knowledge that this cannot last is a caterpillar in the pit of the player's stomach. And then, when you reach Toriel's home and observe that she has a room for you, has planned your education and has baked you a butterscotch-cinnamon pie, the reality starts to hit you.

This, right after she's told you about your planned education...

I couldn't do it. Not at first. This all just felt too harsh, but eventually the confrontation has to happen...

2. ...and then I killed her.

"Well, she certainly doesn't look like she's giving up..."

"You bastard!" you probably just shouted at the screen. Well, joke's on you. I can't hear you so now you look like a right mental.

This is not uncommon for a first playthrough, I have since learned, but it doesn't do anything to tuck the guilt under the sheets. The game is almost deceptive for this fight, but in truth it is only the player's lack of faith in being peaceful that causes Toriel's death.

Until now, all enemies encountered follow a simple mechanic. If you choose the correct option from the 'act' menu, the monster's name becomes yellow and you can spare them. When you come to face Toriel, the only option in the 'act' menu is to talk to her, and this appears to have no effect whatsoever. In this abyss of instruction, my age-worn instincts pushed me towards fighting back as 'the only option'.

"Ohhh... now I feel like a reclusive Hitler..."

Toriel saves your life at the very beginning of the game, and the source of her ultimate loneliness, when revealed later in the game, makes this confrontation all the more tragic. Suffice to say, the game succeeded in making me hate myself, not just in this moment, but in callbacks to it later on in the game.

3. Papyrus and Sans

Sans, of course, speaks in Comic Sans. Because he's... comic...

I love these two characters. Sans seems to be the big fan-favourite, but I couldn't get enough of Papyrus' brash, overtly-confident approach to everything. His fervent drive to capture a human initially made me expect a 'goofy villain' type character, but it quickly becomes apparent that Papyrus is incapable of anything but 'acting' like a bad guy. His emphasis on 'puzzling and japing' the human barely conceals his child-like desire to have fun, and by the end of his devilish encounters, it's hard not to absolutely love the crazy bonehead.

By this point in the game, I had concluded that there was no damn way I was killing Papyrus. Naivety was no longer an excuse, so when it came to fighting him at the end of the Snowdin area, I was far more assured in my own pacifist convictions. It's a long fight though, and for me it took two tries before I was able to get it right. However, seeing Papyrus openly postulate on his desire to capture a human, and how it conflicted with the genuine friendship he felt he had with the human, before ultimately setting aside his ambitions... that was incredibly satisfying. It was a mini-redemption for earlier sins.

4. Ooo ooo ooo, ooo ooo ooo, oo oo ooo oo ooo

Napstablook's limit break.

Early on in the game there's a ghost called Napstablook who blocks your way across a path by pretending to sleep (one of my favourite little jokes in the game is how Napstablook tries to execute this). Later on, he disrupts one of the miniboss fights and the opportunity to hang out with the spectre becomes irresistible.

The depth of characters in a game like this can, in my opinion, be fairly measured by how much you just want to hang around with them. Napstablook, in his timid despressive state, is (perhaps subversively) a joy to interact with. There's a nice moment where, after eating a ghost-sandwich (which is as disappointing and impossible as it sounds), he asks if you want to lie on the floor with him. And boy, did I.

Actual screengrab.

I think it was here that I became fixated with the game. Up to that point, I was satisfied with booting up the game in small bursts. But at this moment, it started to dawn on me how excellent Undertale was becoming. This had its downsides for the first playthrough though, as I began to rush...

5. Undyne's done and Alphys is annoying

It was at this point I realised that Undyne is a fish.

So in my rush to see the conclusion of the game, I neglected a fundamental element of enjoying Undertale, which is to really breathe it in. It's not something to be barrelled through, but rather soaked up. I beat Undyne, the fearsome warrior, by running away and chucking water on her when she got hot, but didn't entertain the thought that there might be more to her character than a 'big boss', which in retrospect is extremely cloudy judgement.

Then Alphys becomes something of a guide through the Laval area of the game. I think I misinterpreted how to receive Alphys as a character (something which gave later scenes a greater impact, perhaps), as I mentally compartmentalised her as a satire on the 'typically annoying guide character' in an RPG. Perhaps this was also partly down to the consistent stream of social media updates Alphys interrupts the game with as akin to Al Gore's role in South Park: The Stick of Truth.

I was happy to hear this.

When Alphys mentioned watching some anime after 'all this is over', I gave a perfunctory 'yes', but never really turned back to initiate this.

6. Mettaton

....

I mean, enough said really.

7. Sans breaks me down again

I had a healthy skepticism about the ketchup this time.

My automatic, mindless blast through the game was sobered by the intervention of Sans. Before entering the core, he asks if the player wants dinner. Of course, you agree when Sans asks you something like that, because Sans.

It had felt like a long time since committing the cardinal sin against the maternal goat who saved my life, but Sans wasn't about to let me forget. He tells a story about a lady behind a giant door, who loved his bad jokes. Day after day, the two of them excitedly share inane puns until, one day, the lady behind the door tells Sans to protect any human that comes through the door.

"...you'd be dead where you stand."

Then it dawned on me. It's Toriel. Sans was sharing jokes with Toriel the whole time, and when Sans told me that he'd not heard from her since, it was like being flushed right back into that moment where I'd finally struck her down. And the worst thing was, it felt like Sans knew. As far as comic relief characters go, Sans is capable of catching you off guard with a moment of deadly seriousness.

The brilliance of Undertale is that it never lets you forget something like that. Redemption is only partial in this world, and acts of violence have irreparable consequences.

8. The Story of Asriel

The music dies... the end is near...

Following the Mettaton fight, the game treats the player to a scene of serene introspection. Across the skyline (which I know is the wrong word for an underground location) of a beige city, the player enters a home that is almost identical to Toriel's.

For me, things really started to fall into place here. The monsters tell the tale of Asriel and the human, and how Asriel died trying to bring the human to their final resting place. From this, we learn that the hope was taken away from the death of not one, but both of the royal children. King Asgore's job is just to rescue hope for the monsters, and Toriel... she was the Queen, leading the player to surmise that the death of their children forced the King and Queen to isolate themselves from each other. Both of them lost everything.

The story is told through the world's hopeful monsters...

And again, this makes killing Toriel a near-satanic act.

9. Flowey destroys the game

Flowey is instantly enamored by the player.

I've neglected to mention Flowey, who goads the player into treating the underworld as 'kill or be killed'. He operates some of the most unsettling moments of fourth-wall demolition I've witnessed.

Before that, we finally meet King Asgore. Despite the King's lovely-guy persona, he is reluctantly aware of his duty and vows to take the player's soul. Despite Asgore literally destroying the 'mercy' option, I staunchly stuck to the 'talk' option for the first go, believing that I could get through this fight peacefully.

Unfortunately, there is no point trying to be coy in this confrontation. Asgore is unsparable... that is, until you bring him to within inches of his life. Then you can make the choice of whether to kill Asgore and return to the human world, or spare him and live underground. (Not before bringing up that he wants to see his wife again, the game's way of nonchalantly firing another guilt-bullet at the player).

I love choices like these.

Of course, I spared him. But Flowey had other ideas and finished him off on my behalf, before crashing the game. My feelings were a mixture of anger and confusion. "That sucked... hey, did the game really crash, or was that just my laptop being a dick? I'll reboot... hang on, that doesn't look like the title screen... ohh shit..."

Flowey takes full control of the game from this moment, and creates a boss that can only be described as creepy Photoshop parfait. Within seconds, I was obliterated, and the game scrolled and endless 'Hahaha' text before crashing. It's the sort of nightmare-inducing computer sentience they would put in bad nineties movies about robots taking over the world, except this time it felt fully plausible because it was happening to me.

Actual screengrab.

I genuinely thought I was doing something wrong after the 14th or 15th attempt to fight Flowey. Turns out I was... apparently you can actually use those floating 'fight' and 'act' buttons to do stuff. Eventually, I won, and it was bloody satisfying to say the least.

10. Try again.

This game's overarching knowledge of save states is endlessly creepy.

I wasn't done. By now I had learned of the 'pacifist' route and channelled some of the game's well-promoted 'determination' to do it right. I spared Toriel, I reconvened with Undyne (while begrudging that it wasn't a proper date), and dated Alphys (which is another of the funniest parts of the game). I was about to win the game properly. Approaching Asgore, I felt pretty great.

Asgore prepares to fight, but this time Toriel turns up to break things up. Then Undyne. Then Alphys, and Papyrus and Sans. All of these characters, evidently touched by the human's peaceful and loving demeanour, are bouncing off each other with funny dialogue. Finally, the fun, pleasant and 'happy' ending I was after.

By replaying the game, it turns out you're doing exactly what he wants. Sneaky bastard!

And then Flowey ruins it again.

11. The Asreveal

One hell of a reveal.

The moment I learned that Flowey was Asriel's disembodied soul is an 'oh shit!' moment that's up there with learning the twist of Oldboy. This moment brings everything together in a mesmerising way. I love the dangerous mix created by Asriel's soul, now unable to feel emotion because it lacks the appropriate corporeal forl, Asriel's childish desire to 'play', and his infatuation with Chara and the child that resembles them, the player.

There's so much going on in this boss fight that it's difficult to provide a satisfying summation of the feeling involved. Asriel is trying to remove your grip on these characters, the friends that the human has made throughout their adventure. He wants to get rid of that goddamn happy ending you worked so hard for.

And he's grinning like it's his birthday. His evil birthday...

While the souls of the other monsters are making Asriel a demigod, they are also resonating with the player. And with that, the opportunity emerges - it's down to the player to save the souls which are slowly fading away, by reminding those souls of the friendly, sometimes banal, interactions that they have enjoyed. It's here that the game cements just how much these characters are all tremendous, individually good-natured personalities that deserve saving (even the irritating ones, like Alphys who I decided, during this fight, was actually a lot of fun).

Then it's time to save Asriel, who has been feeling the power of the souls' love grow stronger and stronger. He can no longer remain completely aloof, and his attacks wane.

Everyone seems to get really lucky with their health at this point.

12. Saying goodbye.

Ow, my heart.

13. Not doing a violence

No I didn't Papyrus. No I didn't.

I should end this article (mainly because it's self-indulgently long-winded) with what I won't be doing. There is, as I'm sure you know, a genocide route to this game. As much as I've enjoyed Undertale and would love an excuse to play it again, there's simply no way I could bring myself to carry out a genocide run.

And that, to me, is another great achievement of Undertale. I'm sacrificing full completion of the game in favour of not killing a skeleton that threatened me with awful puzzles and fed me cold spaghetti.

10 Years On - The Redknapp Retrospective

On This Day - Redknapp returned to Portsmouth in 2005

December 7th 2005: Harry Redknapp causes a South Coast earthquake, resigning from his role as Southampton boss to retake the reins at his former club Portsmouth. Although this was one of the most dramatic tales of the season, it would be impossible to envisage the impact it would have on Pompey. The fallout of Redknapp's decision fundamentally changed the course of history for the club. His reputation with the fans remains as characteristically divisive as ever, but a decade after his second appointment, just how does Redknapp's stature deserve to stand on the blue corner of Hampshire?

There number of different reactions within the Portsmouth stands was equivalent to the amount of voices belting out a pre-match 'Play Up Pompey'. Some were enraged. Some recognised the talent he brought with him. Some were suspicious of his motives. But even the most irate supporter recognised that Portsmouth stood a much better chance of avoiding relegation with Redknapp at the helm, following turgid performances from a calamitous mish-mash of a squad put together by Frenchman Alain Perrin. 

Redknapp patched things up with chairman Milan Mandaric

And so it was that Portsmouth achieved the impossible by battling to safety, although there are a few foreboding footnotes to add to this early Redknapp accomplishment. Russian businessman Sacha Gaydamak became co-owner and injected a hefty amount of money into the club in January, allowing Redknapp to spend £11.6m to bolster Portsmouth's paltry squad (not an enormous amount of money in the modern context, but for a relegation-bound side ten years ago, this was significant).

The gamble paid off, and this inspired Gaydamak, who soon assumed full control of the club from Milan Mandaric, and Redknapp to set their sights higher and spend more money on improving the team. Though transfer fees were kept relatively humble in the build-up to the 2006-2007 season (£3.5m for Niko Kranjcar was Portsmouth's top spend), it is understood that ample wages paid to the likes of Kanu and Sol Campbell began to change the dynamic of how the club was operating financially.

Nevertheless, the football undoubtedly became some of the best in Portsmouth's modern history. Fans were left purring by the tremendously solid back five, including the acrobatic athleticism of goalkeeper David  James, and were being treated to Kanu's sedately silky skills up front. Victories over Liverpool and Manchester United permeated a joyful campaign which was a cat's whisker away from bringing European football to Fratton Park for the first time in the club's history. 

Campbell and James brought international quality to Pompey.

At this point, things were probably running in a reasonable fashion. Money was being invested, but not to an overtly irresponsible degree. Transfer fees were low, wages were rising, but the players being signed were of fantastic reputation and quality, ensuring that the financial input was matched proportionately to on-field success. Redknapp's contribution was to ensure that a side of good players was producing the best football possible, and there was no doubt that he was achieving this.

However, after the 2006-2007 season, starry-eyed ambition took hold and things began to get out of hand. It may have been more prudent to give the squad another season of careful investment to see how things played out, but instead Gaydamak looked to capitalise on the club's upswing by investing heavily in both fees and wages. £24m was spent on new signings, including £6m for David Nugent and £7m for John Utaka, none of which was recuperated by any sales. 

Gaydamak (left) was rumoured to be plundering his father's fortune.

Considering Portsmouth's stature, this was never going to be a sustainable strategy. Fratton Park's 20,000 capacity would never offset the money spent, and although Redknapp was undoubtedly a talented manager, it is unclear quite how much success this team would have required to make this move financially sustainable.

It's depressing to talk about a manager's contribution with such a heavy emphasis on the financial impact of every season, but because we know how the story ends, it's impossible to ignore. Without the ultimate collapse of Portsmouth, these transfers could simply be seen as the clever squad strengthening that allowed for the club's first FA Cup in nearly 70 years. Instead, it is evidence of the foundations being laid for the complete dismantling of Pompey.

The fateful crescendo of Portsmouth's Premier League era.

The 2008 FA Cup win, propelled into reality by the quality of Redknapp's acquisitions, was perhaps the straw that broke the financial camel's back. Many of the subsequent reports of Portsmouth's demise cites the enormous bonuses paid to the players on the back of this trophy as one of the major factors. At the time, there were no murmurings of disaster afoot, and fans were in dreamland. By this point, most had forgiven Redknapp for his brief transgression across the county.

It's hard to know exactly when Redknapp became aware of the Portsmouth's crumbling reserves. It could be suggested that he knew things would be scaled back when he sold fan-favourite Benjani to fund Jermain Defoe's move to Portsmouth, but this belies the £9m he spent on Peter Crouch six months later. It certainly seems likely that Redknapp knew it was a good idea to jump ship to Tottenham early in the 2008-2009 season, as he had previously resisted the allure of Newcastle when they approached.

Redknapp joined Tottenham less than that 3 years after his 'second coming'.

His second departure disappointed fans again, and thrust the majority opinion of him back towards ambivalence. Just a few days after leaving Portsmouth, he accepted the freedom of the city for the team's FA Cup heroics. Some at the ceremony booed, but it seemed that most fans had begun to look at his tenure objectively, detaching themselves from any real emotive opinion of the man himself.

This arguably changed over the coming months when the true jeopardy of the financial plight began to grip the club. Gaydamak's outlandish, horrendous judgement of his own cash situation sparked the fateful succession of dodgy, dishonest and sometimes non-existent owners. There was a lot more antipathy towards Redknapp when Portsmouth met Tottenham in their unlikely FA Cup Semi-Final encounter at the end of the 2009-2010, with some feeling that his inept handling of the club's finances led to the crisis.

How much blame should be rightfully apportioned to Redknapp?

While it is a tempting prospect to pin the blame on Redknapp for the club's catastrophic money troubles, the evidence for this doesn't stack up. Gaydamak made it very clear that he was happy to run the club at a loss, doing so from the get-go and making suggestions that he was able to fund this out of his pocket. It wasn't unusual either - most clubs were operating at a loss during this period, well before financial fair-play rules were even considered.

Fans, and perhaps Harry Redknapp, were under the belief that Portsmouth had a small-scale Abramovich pumping undiminishable funds into the team. Further to this, chief executive Peter Storrie was handling a lot of negotiations. Some argue that Redknapp was probably demanding that these players were signed at any cost, but it seems unlikely that men like Storrie and Gaydamak would have run themselves into financial ruin on the say-so of the manager. 

Gaydamak's liberal spending racked up a reported £60m of debt.

Portsmouth shocked Tottenham in the FA Cup Semi-Final by winning 2-0, offering closure on the Redknapp story which ultimately defined the club's Premier League stay. The effects of Redknapp's spending are still being felt, as the club looks to recover from the string of unavoidable relegations that occurred almost incidentally as the fans looked to salvage the tattered remains of the finances.

It's difficult to really summarise the feeling towards Redknapp from my own perspective. Some of the most memorable, wonderful moments as a Portsmouth fan were entirely down to his managerial prowess: Winning the FA Cup, Pedro Mendes scoring against Man City, watching Pompey in Europe. But he inarguably had a hand in the darkest period of the club's history, a time which nearly destroyed my interest in the sport for good. 

Supporting Pompey became about despising irresponsible men, as opposed to football.

So, perhaps just as we all felt immediately after his move to Tottenham, I don't think I can feel anything emotively towards him and what he did. I can only really see his work objectively, and my conclusion is that if it was inevitable that Gaydamak would plunge the club into the financial abyss, perhaps it was lucky that we had someone who could get a trophy out of it. I want to feel more grateful for that, but I think the seasons that followed truly have dampened my take on our Premier League period.

Things will be more special when we succeed as a result of the fans' stewardship of the club, that's for sure.

Pompey must avoid premature panic

McNulty foiled on another difficult Fratton afternoon.

It was another lacklustre 0-0 draw for Portsmouth on Sunday, in which visitors Wimbledon were a little more than comfortable holding on for a point. 'Bereft of ideas', 'lacking in ambition' and 'toothless up front' were just some of the thoughts rattling around Fratton Park at the final whistle. It would seem that a run of four games without a win, along with a perhaps more disconcerting streak of only one victory in nine home fixtures, is threatening to take the wheels off what seemed like an unstoppable cruise to promotion. 

Paul Cook's tetchy post-match interview following the side's 2-1 victory over Macclesfield in the FA Cup suggested at his own dissatisfaction with the team's recent run of form, as a gritty victory did nothing to prevent Cook from openly criticising the way Portsmouth played. Though Cook was much more upbeat following the Wimbledon result, suggesting that Pompey had some good patches in the game and are still growing as a unit, it is hard to imagine that the former Chesterfield boss isn't at least concerned by the team's torrid home form.

Paul Cook has struggled to find a winning home formula.

Despite the tribulations at home, Pompey's away form has been outstanding so far. With five wins out of eight away ties, and only one defeat, Pompey have worked their way up to fourth in the table. Nevertheless, there are understandable worries that such excellent away pedigree may not last all season, with the recent defeat to Notts County potentially signifying a change in travelling fortunes.

Beyond the results, there is also a feeling that some of the players who seemed to have brought a refreshing sense of aptitude, glitz and efficiency early on in the season have started to wear a little thin as Pompey have had to dig deeper. Kyle Bennett has been unfairly singled out as a player who, having shown limitless promise on his debut, has tumbled below the lofty expectations of the Fratton crowd. He is one example of a few creative players who have come in for flack in recent weeks, with Portsmouth's inability to conjure up chances considered the main issue to have blighted recent games.

Bennett responded to his critics, saying it wouldn't affect him.

Bennett was dropped to the bench for Sunday's game against Wimbledon as Cook opted for a tactical shake-up, employing the terrace-touted 4-4-2. The uninspiring display gave instant indications that this wouldn't suit Pompey, as players seemed unable to find space or move the ball around comfortably, seeming stuck to their positions. The wing-backs, including architect left-back Enda Stevens, were neglecting to move forward, and the central midfield duo of Doyle and Hollands looked afraid to pass the ball into space.

The late introduction of Bennett brought a miniature revitalisation to the game, with the substitute creating one of the best opportunities of the game with a pass through for McNulty. However, the full-time whistle was met with resounding boos from the Portsmouth fans who, 17 games into the season, are beginning to fear the promotion push may fall apart before Christmas.

Time to worry?

Expectations are especially high this season.

 

Is there a cause for panic? I think the boos, concerns and general negative feeling may be a little premature, and it worries me more that this could snowball into having an effect on the team. It's been very frustrating to watch Portsmouth struggle at home, but it's key to hold on to perspective in these situations. The squad is three months into the season having been rebuilt by Paul Cook - a task that, as we know from many experiences in the past five years, requires a lot of learning, hard work and, ultimately, tough results. While we all got carried away by our early season form, it's important we set those delusions aside for the reality that getting promoted won't be a cakewalk.

Yet after 17 games, we find ourselves in fourth place and just two points from automatic promotion. Let's compare that with Andy Awford's Portsmouth last season, who went through pretty much the same process as Cook's squad. At this point last season, Pompey were 13th place and already nine points shy of the promotion spots, having just come off the back of a 3-0 hammering at Plymouth. The two starts are worlds apart, and this ought to be recognised as a minor miracle in itself.

Portsmouth seem a world away from last season's struggles.

Paul Cook said in his post-match interview that 'medals aren't handed out in October or November', and it's an extremely salient point. To be in the mix is the most crucial thing to maintain, whether that's in first or in fourth. The teams at the head of the table will trade punches all through the winter, but a strong run of form in April and May is what tends to make the biggest difference. If Pompey are still fourth mid-Spring, they will fancy their chances to make a late surge into the top three.

Performances at home have been poor, and that cannot be ignored. It is worrying that our creative players are drawing blanks, moreso that this has been the case for over a month now. However, one of the most frustrating aspects of this is the fact that we know we can do better, and in a strange way we should find that comforting. We have high expectations because there's a part of us that knows we're watching players capable of winning the league, and we're absolutely right. Even falling well short of their potential, we're still only a victory away from being in a promotion place.

Sheringham's Stevenage stole an unlikely draw against Pompey.

However, there is doubtlessly a confidence problem in addition to Cook's persistent search for the winning formula. Perhaps if we'd sneaked a goal against Accrington, or hadn't conceded a late equaliser to Stevenage, we'd see a very different Pompey side at home right now. However, things haven't swung our way, and the players seem to lack a little bit of belief. One thing that certainly won't help is fuelling a sense of negativity around Fratton Park.

I've never been one for booing the home side, but I feel that the fans' animosity towards the team at the final whistle on Sunday was, while an understandable showing of disappointment with the performance, potentially damaging. These are players who need a little encouragement and support right now. Look at Kyle Bennett - a player who has noted publically the criticism he has taken from fans. His name was chanted as he came on, and he responded by playing the most incisive pass of the game almost instantly.

Confidence to pass ambitiously and move around the pitch seems to have dissipated.

We're right to have high expectations this year, but we must also show a great deal of patience. Paul Cook is an excellent manager, and Portsmouth are already incomparable with the side that fell flat last season. Though the players are having a tough time at the moment, there is little chance that a squad with such talent will continue to come up short, and there will be better results down the line. The only thing that has the potential to seriously derail the campaign is if panic starts to settle in, so as fans I feel we have to play our part in keeping things cool. There's a long way to go yet, and we're still very much in the hunt for those oh-so-agonisingly-desired automatic promotion spots. Let's not replace the Pompey Chimes with alarm bells just yet.