hintonsboots

Quoting the pre match press conference yesterday looks like he could be involved in next Friday’s game.
JC has risen on Good Friday to meet the cross etc (I will admit this has been plagiarised from another poster’s comment on another thread)
 

5 wins from our final 7 will guarentee top 2 in my opinion. That would put us on 93 points, and means the teams behind us could only get away with drawing 1 game and winning the rest.
4 wins from our final 7 would be 90 points and would be touch and go. With each side only being able to lose 1 and draw 1.

He’s built like a tank
When I watch him I w***
He’s f****** mustard
He’s Ebou Adams 

Saturday 23rd March
Northampton vs Derby
Sixfields Stadium (KO 1500)
 
Parking: There is apparently parking available at the ground (NN5 5QA) for a fiver or at a place called Duston Mill (NN5 5FP).
Opponents Bio: Founded in 1897, Northampton Town are well known by their nickname, 'The Cobblers', a nod to the town's historic shoe-making industry. Previously based adjacent to Northamptonshire County Cricket Club, their move in 1994 now sees them play home matches at the 7,798 capacity Sixfields Stadium.
The swinging 60's was quite the decade to be a member of the Shoe Army as Northampton started the 1960/61 season in the fourth tier of the English game before three promotions and three relegations saw them back in Division 4 (ask your parents kids) in time for the 1969/70 campaign. Their one season in the top division was their only appearance at that level in their history so far. Indeed, since their relegation in 1966/67 from what is now the Championship, the Cobblers have played each of the subsequent 56 seasons in either the third or fourth tier. That run could have been broken in 1993/94 when they finished bottom of League 2 but they had a reprieve as Kidderminster Harriers' ground wasn't deemed suitable for the Football League.
This season sees Town looking to consolidate a League 1 berth after their promotion from League 2 in 2022/23 and sitting in 14th place and well clear of the drop zone they have comfortably achieved their initial target. A decent run of results could see them finish in the top half as they are one of four sides on 50 points before this weekend.
Opponents Gaffer & Dangermen: They are managed by an Australian, Jon Brady, who I know nothing about. 
Top scorers for Northampton this season are Sam Hoskins (14 goals), Kieron Bowie (eight) and Mitch Pinnock (six, plus seven assists). They also have Huddersfield loanee Tyreece Simpson and another loanee is a certain Tony Springett who played a few times for ourselves last year.
Other Titbits & Links to DCFC: Notable names associated with Saturday's opponents include former managers Herbert Chapman (of Huddersfield and Arsenal fame), Tony Barton (European Cup winning manager at Villa), Chris Wilder (when he was good), Ian Atkins (coming good again at Tranmere maybe), Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink, Aidy Boothroyd and Graham Carr (father of comedy twins Alan and Jimmy). Their most famous ex-player is probably former Liverpool and England full-back, Phil Neal.
Derby links include Kevin Wilson (managed them) and those who played for both clubs include John Gregory, Ian Taylor and Marco Gabbiadini.
Opponents Form: They've struggled over the past five games, picking up just two points from draws against Charlton at home and Cambridge away. They've lost two on the bounce, both without scoring, with a 1-0 defeat at home to Blackpool followed on Saturday by a 2-0 loss at Wycombe. 
Their league record at home is respectable overall, reading: W8-D5-L6.
Rams History vs Northampton: We tempted fate against Bolton by highlighting the fact that they had never won in the league at Pride Park in 10 attempts. Lets be bold again by stating that;
Derby have never lost a competitive fixture against Northampton.
It's true. Six FA Cup ties (four original and two replays) and seven League matches is the sum total of the two clubs' historical matches against each other but the Rams have managed eight wins and five draws thus far. 
In League matches only, we currently stand at W4-D3-L0 with an away record of W2-D1-L0 on their turf.
The match earlier this season at Pride Park saw Derby run out comfortable 4-0 victors in a game where we saw the best of Conor Washington and a brace by Max Bird.
Likely Rams XI: We can possibly expect a change or two. Or maybe three? Assuming we maintain the back three then Warne has to decide between a recall for Sonny Bradley after illness or sticking with Fozzy. I'd be amazed if he didn't stay with Craig Maldini tbh. 
There are obvious doubts over those withdrawn against Bolton. Gayle is surely out and Barkhuizen and Ward are possibly struggling too. The gaffer also needs to make a decision on Hourihane as we look better with either Smith or Thompson in the middle (or both ideally for me) alongside Ebou Adams who must surely be our transfer target #1 for the summer. 
A return to the 18 for Conor Washington (MotM in the reverse fixture) would be welcome.
Other Notable Fixtures: None. Certainly not as far as those chasing automatic promotion is concerned. We are the only one of the five involved in that battle for a top two finish to be playing so it's a perfect opportunity to apply pressure on those now playing catch up with us. Seven points with a game in hand has to seem psychologically further away for Bolton than the current four points and equal games played so hopefully we can turn that screw.
COYR
 

We play Wycombe on the back of games against Portsmouth, Blackpool, and Peterboroguh (Pizza Cup Final). You'd expect them to be a bit tired after than run, especially if the Peterborough game goes to extra time.
We will then have Leyton Orient, Cambridge and Carlisle, you'd expect all of them to have nothing to play for by then.
I think if we're top 2 after the Portsmouth game, we'll win automatic promotion.

Why does that come into the equation?

As Dom Dietrich might say, these are “take it or leave it” stats. Below is my attempt at showing the league position of the opponents our direct competitors face on the run in:
Portsmouth- 12 2 17 3 5 11 7- average 8.14
Derby- 14 9 1 12 10 20 24- average 12.9
Bolton- 8 18 13 1 17 23 4- average 12
P’Boro- 24 10 23 6 22 13 21 3- average 15.3
Barnsley- 20 19 16 8 18 1 9 14- average 13.1
I haven’t considered home or away ties, but on the face it Portsmouth have by far the hardest run in, playing us, Bolton and Barnsley. My personal preference would be for them to beat Barnsley and Bolton, let them take the title, and it gives us more breathing space on the final day. But looking at it another way, if we can beat them on 2 April and other results go against them, might we be looking at a title push?? I would love that, for B4 if nothing else.
Peterborough have the easiest run in and face all three bottom teams, although I noticed they are one of only four teams to play midweek before the final game of the season- which for them is a massive 6-pointer against Bolton.
Our games seem to get “easier” as time goes on, whereas others are more mixed. Portsmouth finish against one the form teams of Europe (I’d guess?) in Lincoln. Let’s see if the Imps are still averaging three goals a game by then- if they are, they might well finish 4th or 5th!
Final point- our GD is 4 better than Portsmouth, 7 better than Bolton and P’Boro and 13 better than Barnsley. That could well be the half point advantage that makes a difference come 27th April…

Just four ???!!!

Do you mean Catherine Elizabeth Middleton, known as the Princess of Wales, or less frequently, the Duchess of CORNWALL? Cornwall, in Cornish, being Kernow? 🥲

Arrived carrying injuries when it’s already very difficult coming in to a new squad getting used to how players and the team like to play.
I agree, underwhelmed so far but has showed glimpses of what he could be about. 
He will need to work harder in a PW team, but add that to his ability and I think he will prove to be a good signing. 
Gangway D from the Terrace
 

 

 

PG Wodehouse from the directors box.
Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.

PG Wodehouse from the directors box.
Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.

Having missed every bloody second of yesterday's outside world (Due to a hospital based family bereavement session!), priority this morning was to search @hintonsboots, and find this little beauty.  Thank you, good sir.  My loins are fully re-stirred!

A quick flick through the rest of the thread suggests it wasn't pretty, but we got the job done.  I doubt many of us were brave enough to hope for anything more.
Looks like scenes after the whistle, and good on all those who stayed behind to applaud and cheer off the day's heroes.  
Apologies to @B4ev6is for leaving an empty seat in an otherwise sell out game.  #noexcuses.  I get it!  And I'm duly gutted, in every sense of the word. 😢
Now... Let's just do this promotion thing, and let's hear no more of my lesser fandom....
🐏

PG Wodehouse from the directors box.
Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.

PG Wodehouse from the directors box.
Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.

Defence cuts.

PG Wodehouse from the directors box.
Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.

PG Wodehouse from the directors box.
Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.

Big shoutout to Joe Wildsmith today. Won us the 3 points as much as Kane Wilson did.

PG Wodehouse from the directors box.
Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.

PG Wodehouse from the directors box.
Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.