The Alan Curbishley Doomsday Clock - Part Two

The fun and frivolity of transfer deadline day is over. Zero hour - appropriately named for the apparently potless West Ham board - has come and gone, and now seems an appropriate time to take another squiz at The Alan Curbishley Doomsday Clock. Last time we looked, the hands showed ten past eleven - a worry for Mr Curbishley, but still giving him a little breathing space.

A lot has happened since then. Let's see what the time is now.

Last Wednesday, West Ham beat Macclesfield 4-1 in the Carling Cup. That ought to move the hands backwards from the hour of doom, right? Wrong. That Macclesfield goal was their first of the season. To date, they have not scored another, nor gained a single point in League Two, and have a goal difference of -14 after four games. They are the worst team in the country, and West Ham needed extra time and a dicky sending-off to beat them. Not good enough. The hands of the clock move forward.

11.20.

Then on Saturday, West Ham beat Blackburn, led by the evil Paul Ince, 4-1. Surely this time The Alan Curbishley Doomsday Clock would spin in reverse and give the poor guy a break. No it would not! The Alan Curbishley Doomsday Clock knows no mercy, and does not forgive the premature showboating that once again let an away side back into the game from 2-0 down, nor the achingly familiar defensive panicking that should have gifted them an equaliser. Only a grotesque offside decision and a brilliant penalty save by Rob Green kept West Ham ahead, before two goals in injury time made a struggle look like a stroll.

Still, a win's a win - especially against Paul Ince* - and the Upton Park crowd even cheered a bit. So the hands budge, just a little bit, and the time says:

11.15

The next day, Anton Ferdinand sat in the stands at The Stadium of Light and watched his team lose three-nil to Manchester City. (Anton, if you're wondering where you've seen this before, it was last Sunday.) Ferdinand's move north was not what Curbishley wanted, and he felt comfortable saying so. Not smart. He also stated quite firmly that this was the last man West Ham would sell before the transfer deadline. Oh dear, oh dear.

If your board sells your players against your wishes, that can only mean one thing. The hands go forward.

11.30

And finally it's deadline day, and the biscuit magnate from Iceland takes the lid off the tin and reveals... nothing. Nothing for you, Alan. No custard creams, no jammy dodgers. Not so much as a ginger nut. Even worse, the board allows the sale - on compassionate grounds - of the club's only authentic left back, George McCartney, without any sign of a replacement. It's called contempt, Alan. And it looks very, very bad.

11.35

So the situation is bleaker for the Upton Park supremo. But is it all his fault? It has been said many times this week that West Ham have had their best start to a season for nine years. But they have also had their easiest. Two wins is about what you would expect, and there's a straightforward string of fixtures coming up, too. Results alone won't improve the outlook for Curbishley - they can only make it worse.

All Alan can do is swallow the bitter pill that the board have fed him, cobble together a balanced team from the lopsided resources at his disposal, and hope that more players come out of the treatment room than go in. He might like to write the word "entertain" on his whiteboard too.

Can Alan Curbishley beat the clock and save his skin? If he does, it will be some achievement.

* I realise now that I couldn't have heard him speak much before, but doesn't Paul Ince sound like a high-pitched Harold Steptoe?