Where did it all go wrong? A theorem on Chris Hughton's time at Norwich City

Picture the scene. It's 11 December 2012. The football club you play for has enjoyed fully three-and-a-half years of meteoric success, rocketing from second bottom of League 1 to 11th in the Premier League, and now faces its first Cup quarter-final in fully 17 years.

In the summer, your talismanic, inspirational manager, whom many of you still pine for and certainly credit a huge amount of your success to, departed for pastures new; but after a difficult start under the new man, you're 10 matches unbeaten - a run which included beating Arsenal, Man Utd, and knocking Tottenham out of this very tournament via a second win at White Hart Lane inside 6 months.

At the weekend, your burgeoning confidence was on display as you hit 4 at Swansea - the talk of the entire country until now - and secured a first away league win of the season, through an at times dazzling performance.

Deep down, though, you know that you're about to smash into a glass ceiling. The top 6 or 7 clubs in England will always be out of sight: top of the bottom half is, surely, about as good as it can possibly get. As players, you can't win the league; can't ever hope to play in the Champions League; and very few can aspire to some day appearing at a World Cup either.

You also know that domestic Cup competiitions don't mean what they once did in England - but many of you still dream of playing and winning something at Wembley. In essence, it's the absolute summit of your ambitions; and those of 95% of your fellow pros too. And this tournament has opened up very invitingly indeed.

Only one true big gun, misfiring Chelsea, remain; one other big club, Arsenal. have a habit of playing a weakened side in this event, and with their never-ending capacity to choke when it matters, they don't scare you one bit anyway. After that, that's it: it's wide open. Anyone's tournament. And after all the success you've enjoyed, many of you really believe that the trophy, glory at Wembley, and legendary status at the club are going to be yours.

Standing in your way is, irony of ironies, the very man who guided you to so much success in the first place; but Paul Lambert is struggling at his new club, and however much you all miss him, you're all desperate to put one over him and prove there is vibrant life at Norwich City after Lambo. Victory tonight will also vindicate the new manager's more considered approach, and allow the whole club to move on and leave Lambert firmly in the past.

The promising position you've developed in the league means that, surely, any relegation concerns can already be laid to rest; it's time to throw the kitchen sink at this quarter-final. You are just two steps from Wembley.

Yet remarkably, the new man in charge, Chris Hughton, while not making wholesale changes, chooses this of all nights to change your successful formation; make three changes to the line-up (all of which clearly weaken it); go with four in the middle against Aston Villa's five; and most bafflingly of all, leaves your best, most influential player, Wes Hoolahan, on the sidelines. He's chosen what you all regard as a massive game and huge opportunity to... experiment.

You still go out there and play as well as the system and personnel allow: you take the lead, and it's 1-1 with only 11 minutes left. But three quick Villa goals kill your chances, leave your hitherto superb defensive record with a ruddy great scratch on it, and your dreams - realisable so rarely for players of your level in modern football - are shattered. Not through anything you've done wrong - but your manager's decisions, and apparent desire to treat this hugely important game like no more than an each-way bet.

As Lambert gallivants along the touchline with every Villa goal, again you can't help but recall all those good times under him; and suddenly, the doubts which you've always harboured about Hughton spring to the surface. Doubts which will never be shaken off again.

Before the night is out, it gets even worse, as Arsenal are eliminated; and the final indignity is reserved for the semi-final draw, which would have pitted you against League 2 opponents. A League 2 side - in a Cup semi-final!

Now, instead of that tantalising prospect galvanising you over Christmas and beyond, you're left staring at a long, hard league campaign in which you know you can't get much higher than you already are. Hughton's cost you this chance: you'll never truly believe in his methods again.

You do at least win your next match, but scarcely convincingly against opponents mired in the bottom three: in fact, you're hanging on at the end. And all of a sudden, you're sliding down the table: performances deteriorating, rigor mortis beginning to set in.

As Swansea - the one Premier League opponent who you have an Indian sign over, a team who are more scared of you than you are of them - lift the League Cup at Wembley, it only brings things into still starker focus: it could've been you. It should've been you. But your manager cost you that once-in-a-career chance; and all of a sudden, a hitherto relentlessly upwardly mobile club has stalled. In fact, it's gone into reverse.

New players are signed, much hope is harboured; but the slide continues. All that precious momentum is long gone; now, there's only toil. Gruel. not caviar; hemlock, not champagne. One game, one measly team selection, undid everything; ever since - fully 13 months now - you've displayed relegation form.

Who says Cup competitions don't matter? You know they do; and with him now on the verge of losing his job after another Cup exit, maybe even Hughton finally does too.

Posted By: thebigfeller on January 15th 2014 at 05:10:34

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