A Love Letter To Team Goals

A Love Letter To Team Goals

I don't know if Jak Alnwick plays golf but, at a shade after quarter past 3, he got out the pitching wedge at Parkhead. Stationed 40 yards away on the right touchline was Marcus Fraser, who was deliberately avoiding the cover of Odsonne Edouard. The chip wasn't quite perfect which, in its own way, was absolutely perfect for St Mirren.

Fraser ups his pace from a casual walk to a near sprint, acutely aware that Callum McGregor is being dragged further up the pitch, as if being gradually sucked into the ball's orbit. He decides that the floor is lava, volleying a pass inside.

Surely, one of St Mirren's four central midfielders will be available?

Cammy MacPherson is freed from the shackles of McGregor; yet he needs to show even more urgency than Fraser did. Ismaila Soro is rapidly descending. There's no time to think. Act only on instinct. The ball goes where it should - forward. Green and white jerseys are not structured at all; there's a vulnerability to them waiting to be exploited.

Kyle McAllister does not like sprinting. He's a cultured player, that prefers to operate at his own pace. The absence of Soro and McGregor affords him the space to think. The time to act.

Enter stage right, Shane Duffy.

Duffy acts as the kerosene enabling St Mirren to set the match alight. Not quite a fireman rushing to a blaze without a hose, as this isn't a valiant sprint to pressure McAllister, but it's a tragic misstep from a Celtic perspective. The centre back leaves the defensive line and creates the space needed.

McAllister uses his head. Literally. His first time flick on to Kristian Dennis, conveniently aligned with the playmaker 10 yards further up the field, carries on the forward momentum.

The English striker, making a rare yet deserved start, picks up the scraps. He has a mercurial Irish winger, jet-heeled and threatening, in support but Greg Taylor is still in the vicinity. Taylor can sense the danger that Celtic are in and won't allow the pass. Sometimes, in both football and life, you have to backwards to go forwards.

The ball bounces back to McAllister, as if he had stamped it 'return to sender' before conceding possession. It is now in the attacking third for St Mirren. A slowly meandering move is now peaking towards a rapid, glorious crescendo.

McAllister does not miss a beat. The pass to Connolly is immediate and direct. The frantic pace continues. Cammy MacPherson loiters with intent at the edge of the box, eager to finish off the beautiful move with a violent end. 

He's beaten to the ball by a lunging Kristian Dennis, intercepting his own colleague's pass to take a touch with his left foot. A work of art team move, the equivalent of an orchestra performing Bach or Beethoven, gets a rock'n'roll finale. Kristian Dennis smashes a shot on the half volley, having teed himself up with the first touch. 

It's ten yards out, a little off centre. Scott Bain dives in vain. St Mirren take the lead. Living rooms across the west of Scotland, and a few further afield, are jubilant.

What a goal.

This is the springboard for our first triumph in the east end of Glasgow for 31 years. A goal, a game, a result worthy of updating our wonderful songbook to be commemorated, as if we have for previous successes over Celtic.

*************

Let's fast forward approximately 77 hours. A home defeat to Hibs, for the second time this season, is staring us in the face. Less than 20 minutes to play, down by a man and two goals. Yet Jamie McGrath still has belief.

Alex Gogic, a snarling rottweiler of a midfielder, aggressive and uncompromising, bears down on the 24-year-old signed from Dundalk last year. Once again, the out-ball is Dylan Connolly, prepared to go haring away up the park. 

McGrath, with some of the most exquisite, delicate touches wriggles free of the Cypriot. He taunts his opponent with artistry, as a matador would a charging bull. An exceptional display of skill not only results in a successful dribble, but produces a delicious pass too. All sizzle no steak? All sizzle *and* steak.

The Hibs backline probably knew Connolly was quick. Out towards their right, our left, under reasonable supervision. He was loitering around the halfway line; what harm could he pose?

A fatal miscalculation. The Irishman bounds away in hot pursuit of the arced ball forwards. Nobody can catch him. The searing run is followed by icy-cool piece execution. Swarmed by Hibs defenders, a simple cross field switch along the ground that trundles across the penalty spot.

Happily for St Mirren, Jon Obika is loitering with intent. The fox-in-the-box doesn't even need to keep pace with Connolly; he only needs to act as the conduit for St Mirren to score a second delightful goal of the week. 

Tuesday's goal against Hibs will probably be forgotten quickly. Saturday's stunning team move against Celtic will remain part of Saints folklore for eternity. Both deserve to be fondly remembered.

A word, too for Ilkay Durmus. Rather fortuitous, from a St Mirren perspective, that Messrs Duffy and Bain didn't do their jobs properly, but our Turkish winger was delightful. The athleticism and technique to stretch for the ball, with the grace of a ballet dancer - akin to Dennis Bergkamp in his pomp - was one thing. To follow it up with the fierce strike, a nutmeg through the keeper, restoring the advantage? A piece of play fit to win any game.

One Chart To Explain The Celtic Game

Passes allowed per defensive action (PPDA) is a metric which captures how often the defending team fouls, tackles, or intercepts the opposition. The lower the number, the more the defensive team is pressing, harrying opponents and getting stuck in. The higher the number, the more content the defence is to sit back, stay compact and organised, allowing the play to take place and not lose shape.

The above chart shows how St Mirren changed strategy throughout the match at Celtic Park. Although 17.3 isn't at all high (we averaged 6.64 PPDA across 90 minutes in the 5-1 win over Dundee United, for instance) we did show a certain urgency and aggression which was welcome in the early stages. No unnecessary respect for the opposition.

Taking the lead naturally meant we then displayed greater caution, as shown by the fall in PPDA immediately after. We tried to soak up the waves of pressure but it eventually told, with a nice interchange between McGregor and Edouard leading to the brilliant Frenchman producing the touch, turn, and finish which meant the game was all square.

This was merely the catalyst for us to up our intensity. The immediate aftermath would culminate in 'Silky' Ilkay Durmus scoring the eventual winner - not that we were to know then!

The second half, predictably, lead to Celtic attacking with greater intent and we were cagey, staying resilient without feeling the need to engage higher up the park. This suited us fine, with very few chances conceded. Indeed, the subsequent increases in our PPDA as the half progressed can be attributed to two key factors:

• The introduction of substitutes who had fresh legs to run, harry, and press (Brophy and Doyle-Hayes after an hour, Obika after 75, Tait with just under 10 minutes remaining).
• The fact that Celtic, well, weren't anything special. We grew in confidence and started to regain our counter-threat which had been missing for a while.

Of course, one chart can't explain everything. Yet the PPDA data above, sourced from Wyscout, shows how the game ebbed and flowed very neatly. It was a tactical masterclass from Jim Goodwin, producing a thoroughly merited triumph. The starting lineup either confused or infuriated virtually the entire fanbase prior to kick-off, although nobody was disputing that it worked a treat afterwards.

It was followed, three days later, by a soul-destroying loss to Hibs. The mistake from JDH with the backpass causing poor Jak Alnwick to receive a red card; the writing was on the wall thereafter. A game which showcased the best aspects of football (without actually being able to witness it in person anyway), followed by a frustrating, miserable defeat. 

Such is life as a St Mirren supporter. C'est la vie.

Thanks very much for reading. SMTID.

Lewis.