So that left the home side needing a miracle of Biblical proportions to overturn the deficit and I don't think even an omnipotent God has the power to defer victory on a team containing Bradley Pritchard and Marvin Bartley. Is there still hope of a resurrection? If Liverani is our saviour, I'm a devout unbeliever.
Jump off your seat moment... As a result of Fabio Liverani's innovative second-half tactic of "Just fucking lump it into the box and hope for the best, it's all I've got fellas" (translation courtesy of goalkeeping coach Rob Gagliardi) Orient did inadvertently force a couple of goal-mouth scrambles. Which was sort of mildly diverting in a similar way to observing someone struggle to keep their hat on in a strong wind, or watching a retarded puppy chasing its own tail. Which is something of a metaphor for... no, I can't even be bothered.
Give that man a medal... Various calls among Orient fans to make Marvin Bartley man of the match, which is a bit like awarding the Nobel Peace Prize to North Korea's Kim Jong-Un simply because he didn't happen to have anyone assassinated for 90 minutes on a Wednesday night. If it has to be someone, I'd give it to Omozusi.
|Nathan Clarke had trouble against Hanson|
"Fuck the technical shit"... Fabio Liverani continues to offer no evidence he has any idea what he's doing, which is perhaps to be expected given he has no experience, no track record and no knowledge of the league, the country, the players or the opposition. And what the hell is his aversion to Hedges? Did Liverani suffer some horrific gardening accident while practising topiary back in Italy? And why is he so reluctant to play with any width? The players were trying out there on the pitch, but it was quite clear that the team selection, the tactics (or lack of), the organisation and the communication weren't right. Still, he's good at waving his arms about, so every cloud...
E10 Mess crew who created a series of Orient-themed Valentine's Day cards earlier this week. My personal favourite was this Gianvito Plasmati-inspired one which I intended to give to my wife, but found myself strangely rooted to the spot while she breezed past me, then I twisted my ankle as I reluctantly began to trudge after her. Coincidence? I think not.