Wakefield 26 Wire 12

If Tony Smith has just about got enough credit in the bank with the board to be given time to turn this around, this latest shit show has probably seen him get one of those texts you get when you’ve only got a tenner left in your account.

We very nearly just copied the Huddersfield report and sat down to watch the One Show.

We can’t keep on saying that we’ve not been this bad for a long time, because they just make us look like cunts and pull out something just as bad on the next outing.

Whereas last year we were poor but won, this year we’re just poor.

For all of the rumour merchants and part-time sports psychologists that we’ve got on the terraces, none of us has a fucking clue what’s gone on this year.

For all of the people saying that Smith’s lost the dressing room, there’s another saying it’s a player’s mum being gobby and, let’s be honest, the reason why we’re playing like we’re playing like we don’t train (even though we trained well this well this week) doesn’t matter.

The only thing that matters is turning it around. We can only hope that it’s soon.

Tony Rea was on Sky Sports News the other doing a review of the weekend and asked if Wakey are on the verge of being the new Cas.

Let us answer that for you, Tony.

No.

No they’re not.

They were fucking dreadful.

It’s just that we were more fucking dreadful than they were.

Wakey walked through us at will. When they could keep hold of the ball, that is.

Some of the defence out wide was similar to that of the under 8’s that played beforehand, all grabby and unorganised.

Just watch where Jack Hughes ends up for Mason Caton-Brown’s winner.

There were constant overlaps, and players being dragging in all over the place.

Whatever the question is, Kevin Penny is not the fucking answer.

He’s one of the dozen or so players that need to be bid farewell at the end of the season.

For a team that is paying full salary cap, there is no way that our back three should be Dagger, Johnson and Penny.

Injuries are no excuse for poor planning and recruitment.

A blind man, or Dennis as we call him around our end, could see we were weak in the three-quarters and it shouldn’t have taken until round 20 to sign someone that could play in the centres.

We actually took the lead this week.

Brad Dwyer (who is another that hasn’t kicked on this year. What good is a hooker that can’t pass accurately from dummy half?) went over from dummy half to absolute scenes.

Limbs all over the shop, smokebombs, ticker tape, even bog rolls thrown like streamers like they do in Italian football.

But that was pretty much the high point for The Wire.

From then on, Trinity walked through us at will.

It would have been even worse had Fafita been playing, you feel. The yards after contact statistics must make for grim reading.

We kept on giving stupid penalties on the last which gave Wakefield territory and when your defence as a weak as ours is, you’re eventually going to crack.

And, sure enough, a nothing kick from Liam Finn was allowed to bounce, Will Dagger and Jack Johnson didn’t deal with it and then failed to wrap the ball up, giving Bill Topou as much time as he wanted to walk in to make it 8-6.

They extended the lead when Finn was given the room to run at the line and our left edge managed to both stand off and jam in, giving Sam Williams the easiest of options in finding Ben Jones-Bishop with a long ball.

There was no way on earth he wasn’t going to score.

They had a three-man overlap.

It was embarrassing,

The second half started the same was as the first ended.

Anthony England (ANTHONY FUCKING ENGLAND) managed to suck in three defenders close to the line, Sam Wilde and Gids were caught daydreaming at the ruck and Kyle Wood crashed over from dummy half.

If that wasn’t bad enough, we shit out of the contest. Wakey love a bit of shithousery, something that we are sorely missing again, and to add injury to insult, young Will Dagger was stretchered off with what looked like a bad neck injury.

The 2010 Warrington team would have twatted Wakey for the next half an hour, but this lot just let it happen again.

First Date’s very own Keegan Hurst was binned for putting pressure on the back of Daz Clark’s neck.

This should have lead to us spreading the play and using the natural overlap but, instead, we went right up the middle.

In fairness, it probably would have worked if the dummy half breaks by Ratch and Clark were supported, but as we’re dumb as fuck they weren’t.

We pulled one back when Chris Hill hit a Gids cutout pass under the sticks. To say that it put us back in it would be a lie so big it wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Tories’ manifesto, so we won’t say it.

Mason Caton-Brown completely wrapped it up when, instead of sliding, Hughes and Gidley ran into each other, giving Dean Hadley chance to straighten up and a two on one overlap.

Johnson didn’t do that badly, to be honest, Hughes ended up on the right wing but didn’t exactly bust a gut to get back to make it hard to Caton-Brown to stroll behind the sticks to make the conversion a formality.

Fucking dreadful.

Don’t worry, though. Ben Pomeroy’s fit next week.

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