AFC Wimbledon 4 Carlisle United 0: Wanted: one sink hole, as deep as possible. If only, with apologies to AFC Wimbledon, there had been a chasm still there on the Cherry Red Records Stadium pitch. That way we could have decided whether to direct Carlisle United to it, or jump down it ourselves.
What is the way out of this? For this, let there be no confusion, is a dark old tunnel right now. United’s first half display was the bleakest in recent memory. And when you consider the bleakness of that recent memory, then you quickly get the picture.
And yes, Carlisle have injuries. Yes, they are trying to turn around something that’s been continuously failing. No, nobody would expect miracles or instant success. Yes, Wimbledon are decent. But this? This? Unacceptable by any margin, dismal by any metric, a ticket to the relegation zone and a confident application to stay there.
It’s as serious as that, and don’t let anyone delude you otherwise. This was a new low in mood, in performance, in trajectory, given United are now at the foot of the entire EFL. Presumably nobody will be talking about targets of promotion this morning. If they are, check their temples.
Every good part of their game held an accusing mirror up to Carlisle. They did what United didn’t in terms of intent, energy, ideas, a promotion of strengths, sharpness, defending, shape, kicking the ball, heading the ball…
And hey. The other strugglers both won. You know, the way teams sometimes do, even bad ones eventually (well, some of them). Accrington Stanley can now consider the motivational benefit of a victory at Gillingham, Morecambe will be emboldened by beating Barrow.
Carlisle, then, are the worst of the lot and with the gloomiest direction too.
Welcome to reality, then, Mike. How's the ride so far? United’s head coach, in two trips to Wimbledon’s ground in the space of a month, has experienced two defeats with seven goals against. You can imagine how the home fans enjoyed the sight of the former MK Dons boss suffering again. “You’re getting sacked in the morning” won’t be an accurate prediction, but it was still troubling to hear it, so early into a supposed new and more progressive era.
Nothing will be progressive about this until Carlisle become nastier, as well as better. This era will progress them into the National League if their marking at set-pieces is as bad as this, and if their response to a spiky AFC Wimbledon press is as forgiving, almost as dazed, as it was in the first half.
These are not entirely matters of playing style, not that said playing style is changing the tone particularly right now, but of professional competence too. Some of what failed United in south London are coachables, others are individual requirements. And we continue to be told that these players, this group, this collective, are good enough to take the team somewhere better.
That claim is being steadily burned with all the others. Williamson does not wish to “catastrophise” the situation, which is fair enough, and in the return of Callum Guy in the second half there was at least a glimpse of some of the acumen that might lift the team from this wretched position.
Any complacency from anyone about United’s predicament, though, must be shown the door. A relegation battle? You bet your life that’s what this is. Do Carlisle have both the skill and the cojones for it? We’re about to find out, and the spectacle might need to be watched through the fingers.
The Cherry Red Records Stadium was impressive given recent events. The patched-up and replaced corner of the pitch which had resembled an undulating golf course after the River Wandle burst its banks was green and flat again.
Even if other areas of the stadium remained a recovery in progress, getting football back on again here was a triumph. For Carlisle, their job was to upset the party, somehow, and make this another sturdy day on the road to back up solid efforts at Swindon Town and Colchester United.
Ha.
It was pouring down, naturally, before kick-off – what’s a few litres more water, after all – and when things got under way, another deluge. It took eight minutes for the Dons to open the scoring. Yes, as long as that. Myles Hippolyte burgled a corner out of Sam Lavelle, James Tilley lofted it deep into the box, Stevens peeled away from Harrison Neal, and his header skidded home.
The marking shortfall was just the first offering in a banquet of failings which Carlisle laid on. They survived a couple more scares, Tilley almost sliding in Isaac Ogundere, and the Blues’ uncertain attempts to play out were smothered by a Wimbledon midfield which kept play in United’s half too easily.
Even a five-minute stoppage for an injury to ref Neil Hair did not interrupt the pattern. When things resumed (assistant Ryan Williams taking the whistle) United remained the follically-challenged bloke searching for a comb. Omar Bugiel missed a good chance for the hosts after Carlisle crumbled in midfield, Stevens was denied by Ben Barclay and then the second goal came through the familiar channel of Williamson’s team being too brittle when the ball found its way up the pitch. Charlie Wyke was beaten, Alistair Smith was sharpest in midfield, Harry Lewis’s save popped out and Stevens was swiftest to the rebound.
It did not flatter the Dons, and nor did what happened next: more chances, for Bugiel and Hippolyte, then the third, Tilley’s corner spinning in off Harper, all a muddle. The half-time whistle brought boos from the away end, and this was all unfolding in front of officials from Jacksonville, the home of United’s owners, who are seeking sister-city connections. One imagines they will decline to borrow the sporting prowess of their new friends just now.
Early in the second half, after Williamson had rearranged a couple of deckchairs with substitutes, Carlisle conceded appallingly again, the idea of marking Stevens at close-range not deemed a worthwhile one, the hat-trick finish ravenously accepted.
Anyone throwing their hands up at the sight of it all and walking out of Plough Lane at that moment would have been entirely forgiven. In the remainder, Bugiel went close and sub Joe Pigott had another debatably disallowed, but Wimbledon largely played as if sated. Carlisle’s general level improved from zero to a marginally higher number, yet as much as Jon Mellish tried to put some energy into their remaining attempts, and as much as substitute Guy showed a little of what’s been missing on his first league appearance for nearly a year, it paled alongside how Wimbledon had forced control of things much sooner.
“You’ve had a shot,” the Dons support teased when Guy dipped one over. And it’s true: Carlisle had! Yet a short while later it was full-time, and those still in the dwindling away end booed again. In a recent era of sinking feelings, this was the lowest.
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