Just Play The Hits – Norwich City 0-1 Derby County

At the height of his stardom in 1975, Elton John took to the Wembley stage and performed to an audience of over 70,000.

The Rocket Man was promoting ‘Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy’, and decided to perform the entire album during his set. Elton would later regret his choice of material, observing that Wembley was ‘a big venue to die in’. His support act, The Beach Boys, had a much better experience, and stole the show with a set brimming with familiar hits. Elton John had tried to be artistic and daring, the Beach Boys gave the people what they wanted. Just play the hits.

On Saturday at Carrow Road, the ‘just play the hits’ philosophy, was seemingly key in the outcome of the game. Daniel Farke got the band back together, and reformed the Norwich front line that dominated the Championship in their 2018/19 promotion season. Teemu Pukki, Onel Hernandez, Marco Steipermann, and like a rock n roll bad boy returning from rehab, Emi Buendia. 

Phillip Cocu would adopt a defensive 5-4-1 shape, trying to counteract Norwich’s slick passing and attacking full backs. He also put Wayne Rooney up front, a bona fide rock n roll hall of famer, still more than able to carry a tune.

As the rain lashed down, a first half of Norwich attacking, and Derby defending passed by with little in the way of incident. Norwich were warming up, but unable to hit any of the high notes. 

It was early in the second half that the Canaries forced the first of three big chances they would regret not taking. The slick Norwich passing Derby had been set up to stop, was finally too slick for the Rams to cope with. When Buendia beautifully ficked on to Rupp, he fed Hernandez, whose shot was blocked by the arm of George Evans.  

A penalty kick for Teemu Pukki, who to continue with the music metaphors, is not a spectacular shredding lead guitarist, but more a super reliable drummer, with a great sense of groove. What Pukki did with the penalty though, would be akin to Dave Grohl hitting himself in the eye with a drumstick, falling backwards off his stool, and forcing the show to a humiliating halt. To return to Elton John’s quote, Carrow Road is also ‘a big venue to die in’, and sadly that was Pukki’s fate. He slipped during his run up, and the penalty awkwardly ballooned up, hitting the top of the bar on its way over. 

I wonder what would have happened if the 18/19 version of Pukki slipped taking a penalty? I suspect with Pukki on fire, the penalty would have sent the keeper the wrong way, and nestled perfectly into the net. This Norwich team is trying to replicate the sounds of 18/19, but it’s an iffy cover version at the moment, and Pukki’s rhythm is ever so slightly off.

Farke continued to try and get a tune out of his Norwich players. Max Aarons forced the first of two excellent saves from David Marshall, as bad boy Buendia continued to raise the volume of his guitar amp in an attempt to cut through the residual noise. When the mercurial Argenitne was eventually replaced with Jordan Hugill, he reacted with the snarling fury of Sex Pistol, Johnny Rotten. Sadly for Norwich, having given us Johnny Rotten, Derby were about to give us Elvis Presley.

When we want a fading star to shine once more, we should help protect them from displaying flaws they didn’t once have, only letting people see the magic they still possess. As Jason Knight burst through to win a late free kick on the edge of the Norwich box, Derby were presented with a chance to do just that. It was time to wheel out a genuine music god, and let him give a rendition of one of his finest hits. 

Wayne Rooney is 34 years old. He is not the sheer force of nature he once was, balancing extraordinary power and aggression, with absurd levels of natural skill and technique. However, when the ball is dead, all physical constraints become irrelevant. It becomes a simple matter of a master, and his technique. Rooney stepped up, and with the precision of a true virtuoso, floated the free kick over the wall, into the top corner, and won the game for Derby.

The catsuit wearing, 1973 version of Elvis Pressley, was not the same Elvis who shot to stardom on the Ed Sullivan show 17 years earlier. But despite the extra years, and inches on the waistline, all he needed to do was just play the hits. The crowds turned up in their masses, to once more idolise the king of rock and roll. 

Norwich were unlucky to lose this game, Derby defended, and when it was time for their fading star to shine, he duly obliged. In the aftermath of Rooney’s goal my head was down furiously scribbling notes, I looked up and he was gone, replaced by Jack Marriott. Elvis had left the building.

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