Allen: I'm cool with defeat

Ian Chadband|Chief Sports Correspondent|Evening Standard

14 April 2012

Martin Allen had replaced his manic face with a brave one. "Don't worry", Brentford's splendidly eccentric boss insisted after the end of their Cup adventures at a deflated Griffin Park. "I've always said when you win you don't pop the champagne corks and when you lose you don't pop the pills.

"So I'm going back out of here with me top button done up on me shirt and me tie done up. My shoulders are back, my head's up proud and I'm fine. I'm confident. I'm cool with the defeat. I've learned now how to deal with those situations."

A brief pause then followed before he added: "Mind you, no doubt when I get home and shut the door, I'll kick the bloody dog. Oooo, I wanted to win that Cup."

You really could buy the idea of his pooch Pepsi wanting to avoid a growling Mad Dog since, even half an hour after the gangling figure of Southampton's Peter Crouch had laid his dream to rest in the dying seconds of a rousing replay, Allen still looked the picture of hyper intensity as he reflected on moments which might have turned an uncomfortable night for Premiership visitors into an historic one for the Bees.

What if Eddie Hutchinson's header had gone in instead of crashing against the bar at 1-1? Or if Deon Burton's follow-up hadn't been cleared off the line? Or if Burton hadn't missed by "the width of a nat's knacker". Allen remembered they'd just missed out on a sixth round appointment with Manchester United and then started silently mouthing a four-letter lament to himself. Still, I don't deal in 'what ifs'?" he said, breaking from reverie. "I mean, if my auntie had balls, she'd be me uncle, wouldn't she?" We laughed with him, reflecting how the FA Cup was going to miss both Allen and a League One outfit which again fed off his passion.

The way his river-plunging exploits were gathering pace, it had been tempting to imagine him walking on the Taff in Cardiff 's Cup final week. "Yes, I honestly thought we were going to go all the way and win it...what you laughin' at?" he added with a wink.

Saints' boss Harry Redknapp, mightily relieved to have ended up as killjoy, had watched his old West Ham charge with as much admiration as amusement as Allen stood pitchside throughout, making so many wildeyed, arm-flailing gestures that he resembled John McCririck on acid.

"There are some good managers down in the lower divisions who hopefully one day will get the chance to manage in the Premiership and I think Martin Allen, for all his antics, is a one-off. Enthusiastic, good for the game and, I'm sure, a top manager for the future," was Redknapp's glowing tribute.

After all, Redknapp seemed to suggest, weren't there one or two others who indulged in "antics" and were still pretty good? He didn't name a certain pouting Portuguese but he clearly fancies seeing more homegrown coaching characters on the touchline. "Let's hope we won't keep having to look abroad all the time and they get a chance," he said.

Allen's Mourinho touch last night was to shake hands with all the Saints' team as a tribute to their doughty qualities. Before the game, as they'd trooped off the coach and through the Braemar Road gates flanked by Brentford fans, the look of culture shock on the visiting players' faces had given off a giant-killing scent but, as Allen wanted to applaud, they actually never flinched.

Even in the teeth of an intimidating full-house, a wet pitch raked by rugby league forwards and faced with a onegoal deficit within four minutes after Hutchinson pounced on bumbling defending, the Premiership strugglers manfully negotiated their firsthalf bombardment, quickly equalising through Crouch and then gradually demonstrating the gulf in class after the interval with a superbly-worked goal on the break for Kevin Phillips.

That the tie was only put beyond doubt by Crouch's almost apologetic last-second tap-in said much for the Bees' marvellous effort. It left Allen enthusing that this "unbelievable" Cup experience could only have mentally hardened "young, hungry" players like the buzzsaw 21-year-old Jay Tabb.

What with more seasoned pros like John Salako and Burton complementing the promise, a play-off place looks a decent bet.

"God bless 'em, it's a new experience for them," said Allen. "Four of our lads were playing non-league football a year ago and we've got a 17-year old [Ryan Peters] and a 19-yearold [Matt Harold] on the bench. So we're a bit of a motley crew but let's give promotion our best shot. We've had a rapid rise, we've made a few bob and I'm delighted to be a part if it."

Part of it? Allen is the heart of it. Just one thing he wanted to make clear, though, before the RSPCA came calling. "I wouldn't kick the dog, just tickle her," he smiled. Pepsi will doubtless be relieved to know Mad Dog's bark is worse than his bite.

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Allen: I'm cool with defeat

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