Enough of the experimentation now. Enough of the tinkering with the engine and the snipping of branches. Five games in (W 2, D 1, L 2) – plus a free Boxing Day ‘welcome party’ – Pete Wild, that son of Royton, that surpasser of Paul Scholes, that face and tongue of everyone, has shown Highbury his head coach credentials.
He has roughed up and supplanted our normal back five. He has sold Carl Johnston for a decent sum and brought back club legend and master of controversy, Shaun Rooney. He has been the fortunate beneficiary of the return of Elliot Bonds, Fleetwood’s holding man, Fleetwood’s break it up and lay if off simply enforcer. He has ditched Liam Shaw, that extremely useful man at the back (and potential midfielder) for a princely figure.
He has, in short, become aware of Fleetwood Town’s acute situation while ex-chairman Andy Pilley languishes in prison until 2030. Can Wild orchestrate some kind of rebellion and revolution at the club while the harsh reality of the footballing ladder insists that FTFC is now a selling club ready to be stripped at will by bigger fish?
Yes. Absolutely. So long as he realises that Brendan Wiredu is not a midfielder. Neither is he a left back. So long as he realises that you cannot extinguish those 1960s faces of Carlisle United fans, anchored to the bottom of the league, by starting with a weaker team. So long as he begins in earnest to build this Cod Army flock around the 28-year-old North Lanarkshire lad, Rooney.
Lanarkshire. Lancashire. It’s all the same. And one could be forgiven for thinking that Muhammad Ali himself had landed at Highbury during half time on Saturday given the rush and scrum of kids seeking pictures and autographs from Rooney as he warmed up as a substitute and ambled across to Fleetwood’s west stand.
Rooney is that classic stack of human, full of trouble, presence, serendipitous grace and bags of talent. Turned away by many and rarely able to find a permanent home, Fleetwood Town, for him, has become that third year in the same place, unchartered territory and the prospect of finally building something good.
Former head coach, Scott Brown’s first signing in May 2022, Rooney is the embodiment – despite his tendency to get into scrapes (takeaways included) – of leadership, doggedness, self-belief, fight, craft and ruggedness. Without him, given FTFC’s current plight, it is hard to envision the club making strides. It is hard to see the Cod Army motor racing down the outside lane of the League Two highway.
So new coach, Pete Wild, has a dilemma – continue to tentatively and gingerly employ Rooney as a makeshift back three substitute as he did in the 73rd minute versus Carlisle in place of Rhys Bennett, or allow him to rampage forward in a right wing-back role, a 3-4-2-1 (or 5-2-2-1) system which could propel Fleetwood once more.
To outsiders, Fleetwood Town has become a club of criminals at all levels – the board, the defence, the attack, questionable and shaky individuals forming a subculture which society abhors, but secretly admires. For who doesn’t want a little excitement and the occasional rumble in the jungle?
Kian Harratt represents part of that Fleetwood attack and is another character, another rogue, another chancer, a midnight poacher, someone who doesn’t see barriers, just what’s in his blood, which is revelry and a good beano.
So is it ‘All Hail’ this band of brothers and how it can intermingle and form something dynamic on the park, or is it trimming our worst excesses and creating a union of fellows set on finally taking this division by storm?
Most managers and head coaches would prefer the latter. Some, however, would see the wisdom of giving birth to a new crazy gang, an attitude, a movement, a collection of nutters who love each other and celebrate victories as if they’ve won the World Cup or landed a date with Violante Placido.
Get the midfield right and everything follows! That must be our starting point, our template, our resurrection. Elliot Bonds and who though? Old big thighs, 23-year-old new signing Harrison Neal. Former player, former acolyte of Pete Wild. Rusty – yes. Far from his 2022 best – yes. But on Saturday we saw the hunger, the embers of a young man willing to put in the yards; a player not wanting to be a loanee as was the case during his three years as a Sheffield United employee.
We have the tough, hardy base then – those two layers of defence ahead of the keeper: Harrington/Lynch; Wiredu, James Bolton, Rhys Bennett/Finley Potter; Rooney, Neal, Bonds, Ryan Broom. Let’s not forget Broom, Broomy – that softly spoken, underestimated Welsh tank, with extra guile and the odd deft chip.
Each one of that midfield gives 100%. So who is ahead of them? Which two behind the one skates and provides, holds the ball, looks up, sets up, knows, just knows that their superior ball skills outwit most?
Despite Mark Helm and Mackenzie Hunt putting in admirable performances on Saturday during a second half re-awakening for Fleetwood (indeed, Hunt had a look of Chrissy Waddle about him for brief spells), it is the magic of Danny Mayor and Phoenix Patterson who must supply and support the roaming anarchy of Ryan Graydon. It is they who must score more and earn their places if all manner of players are to be left kicking their boots together on the bench.
I would like to see the day when a fully fit Callum Dolan returns to midfield. Likewise, a fully fit Zech Medley to the back three. Until then we forage and resist the best we can. But our fortune ultimately lies in the hands of Pete Wild, the 40-year-old tree surgeon from Oldham.
Has he figured out the square pegs set against the round holes? The first half against Carlisle United at home on Saturday suggests not. It was dullsville with no birds singing. The second half, alas, brought slicker waves of attack and self-belief, but we were still defeated because of a fickle back line.
One thing we must not do is play within ourselves, give up possession and just lump it forward. The feel of the ball vanishes that way. The demeanour and manner of a player quickly cedes ground to the ideas of the opposition.
Time for a crazy gang, a band of brothers, to stroll out onto the pitch. Time to lift our fellow men up and push forward.