10 GAMES DOWN
Autumn. The season of noise, the noise of leaves underfoot, the noise of a pot bubbling on the stove, the noise of coat zips pulled up, the noise of football fans lining the terraces. The season, the smell of the stadium, the smell of burger and chips, intermingling with the rusty smoke of a cigarette, being smoked in the corner. Simple men, hopping from foot to foot, doing what they can to keep warm, and the match, the spectacle. Is there a better time of year?
The train of our season, set off on a difficult route, from game 1 there were metaphoric leaves clogging the railway. Liverpool away, our first challenge.
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A draw that felt like a win. The squad and I piled back on to our coach in a buoyant, triumphant mood. We left the North-West on cloud nine.
Another stern test faced us next, buoyed from our draw away at Liverpool, we face Spurs with no fear.
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We should have, Tottenham dropped us back down to Earth with a bang.
After our disappointing show against Tottenham, I really wanted to set things straight in the league, but first we had to manoeuvre a tricky away tie to Middlesbrough in the Capital One Cup.
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Efficient, not spectacular, we looked like winning from the first whistle to the last, however I would have liked to have won by a bigger margin.
Our next opponent posed a slightly smaller threat than the Liverpool's or Tottenham's, if we were going to stay up, these were the games we had to win.
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The boys pulled the rabbit out of the hat, we had to win and we did, a feeling which is deeply satisfying.
Another very winnable game faced us next the teams in and around you are the most important ones to beat, could we muster a second win on the bounce?
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They say consistency is key, someone tell my squad that, if we could put on a string of performances of the calibre I know we can, we'd be fine, looking up, not down, but we cannot find any consistency.
Swansea stood in our way in another tight, winnable affair, I harboured hopes of 3 points.
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I hoped for 3, I got 1. We fought hard for our draw, and in the end a point pleased me.
Again, a game we needed to win faced us in the shape of Norwich.
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A loss that really choked me, we need to win games like that and the loss hurt me.
Could we get back on the horse? I knew we needed a performance against West Brom, or else risking a run of bad form.
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The performance was not spectacular, Elliot Grandin's 89' equaliser, may prove crucial in the long run.
I hoped for another win, at home to Sunderland, we had an opportunity to get a run of form going.
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Yet again, consecutive wins eluded us, we have to find the formula for consistency, else risk the drop.
The 3rd round of the Capital One Cup, posed another opportunity for us to test our metal, Tottenham again.
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We fell short against Spurs, again. Disappointing, but not unexpected.
After the first 10 games of our season, we sit 2 points above the relegation zone, a perilous position, but a defensible one.
Star performers thus far, shape up in the faces of Dean Moxey and Elliot Grandin. Moxey has the consistency that the tea does not, a leader has emerged in him.
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In fact, he has the highest average rating in the Premier League.
Whereas, Elliot Grandin, profited from the injury to Jon Williams, to help the team with 3 assists.
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And so, to the next 10, my Eagle's team began to take shape, but could we stave off the drop? Would we survive? Would we ever find the key to consistency?
I watched the rain hit the window, listened to the unrythmical rhythm of its sound as it tapped the thin layer of glass, the only thing that protected me from the soulless cold of the rain. Cars drove passed my window, each more extravagant and expensive than the last, I watched, there was no jealous edge to my stare. Crowds floated past the window, each a caricature of society. The jocks, rolled by, their faces a shroud of humour, smiles set hard as stone, unrelenting and hypnotic. The jocks marched on through, chests puffed, strutting passed my window like cockerels on hot coals. And the girls; so many girls, their eyes darting around childishly, shrieking in surprise at the splendour of the flowers or the wonder of the stars. Innocent to the core by any eye, but mine. 
