Things have been grim at Cardiff City for a few seasons now.
The desperate and grubby identity-shredding rebrand, the illusory Premiership toe-dip arse-kick, the conveyor-belt of sub-standard, forelock-tugging tactically incompetent managers and the dull dull dull football.
Relegation to League 1 was frankly a blessed relief last year. A time to reassess what football is and what it should be.
The arrival of Brian Barry-Murphy has placed a rocket under the twitching corpse of Cardiff City FC and urban75 match reports are back from the dead, bitches.
Right on. Read on.
Cardiff City 4 (FOUR) Leyton Orient 3
League 1, October 4, 2025
Surveying the broiling vat of diseased vulture capitalism, dessicated oligarchs and teams of identikit sculpted allegiance-free money-grubbing players which constitutes modern day elite football, it is hard not to heave a huge sigh of relief to be transacting our business out in the boondocks, away from the bone-sapping putrid stench of Super Saturday, Sunday and every other super fucking day of the week.
Relegation is a breath of fresh air, good for the soul, opening up the airways, cleansing the palate and strengthening the tired and battle-worn sinews.
The air smells fresher and cleaner down here, until you enter the stadium and the brain is fogged with the reek of stale piss, burnt pies and chemical lager.
A rebirth is happening, in real time, and after decades of fire-fighting, boom-bust hairpin trajectories, chronic short-termism and a succession of ill-equipped, under-prepared, ambition-free managers of mediocrity, Cardiff City have a young coach with vision, ideas, pedigree, hunger and confidence.
He exudes a calm, steely confidence and a relentless desire for success whilst acknowledging the realities of life in the ante-room to the dungeon and what is required to get a result on a wet Tuesday night in Stockport.
Crucially, he has shredded the notion that to succeed below the Championship fault lines, it is necessary to dumb down stylistically and play per centage hoofball.
Schooled by Guardiola, Brian Barry-Murphy has ensured that his team play with a flair, confidence and fear-free approach which belies their stunning youth. Harnessing the talents of a raft of homegrown, Academy-educated young bucks, BBM has crafted a unit of impeccable quality.
The shape is good, the patterns of play are impressive, the teamwork is redoubtable and the collective sheen of confidence is quite frankly blinding in its intensity.
Individuals hamstrung by who knows what in previous seasons have been unleashed as if liberated. The metamorphosis of Rubin Colwill alone has been staggering this season – the quality, the drive, the skill which we have all witnessed in patches come oozing out of the boy every time he struts across the line.
Racking up the goals and assists with an effortless aplomb, he already looks like a 20 goal a season man, should he remain relatively injury-free.
His young brother Joel has been equally impressive, and Isaak Davies now burns brightly with a consistent effervescence that is gratifying to behold. Keeper Nathan Trott looks like the safest pair of hands we have had since Roger Hansbury – cool, collected, composed and a demon with distribution.
At right back Kpakio has one scouring for more superlatives, dangerous on surging runs and (mostly) impressive in his defensive role – no wonder he has already been called up for the Welsh squad.
Perhaps most impressive of all has been Dylan Lawlor – a 19 year old centre back with incredible talent – tough gritty and uncompromising in the tackle, dominant in aerial challenges and with the silky refined touch of a Premiership midfielder.
His debut appearance for Wales will have added several noughts to his value – man of the match as he bossed the centre of defence against a very lively Kazakh attack.
He is this generation’s Glen Loovens, peerless and statuesque in possession, rock-solid doing the tough stuff.
The goals are coming from everywhere, which is as it should be – Salech looks good and is purring towards a level which will no doubt bring more rewards.
Robinson looks lively when introduced, and the midfield, marshalled by the dynamic Colwills, continue to patiently probe, pass and confound the smothering defences which are already ‘parking the bus’ at CCFC.
Fair to say that the ever-optimistic hordes have had their flabbers well and truly gasted in the first eight weeks of the season and are rubbing their eyes with gurning disbelief at the quality of the football served up thus far, the talent on show and the early lofty position we find ourselves towards the top of the league.
The crowds are back, not that they ever went away, but there has not been the customary significant diminution of attendances which usually accompanies relegation.
Away allocations are oversubscribed and selling out, and are likely to all season – the smaller ground capacities meaning that there is a ‘Wales Away’ style bunfight for the tickets that are on sale – enforcing the club to operate a points-based allocation system which properly rewards the loyal foot soldiers who have already done their share of past aways.
This is almost unheard of in Cardiff City lower division lore – where one used to rock up at Barnet or Crewe or Walsall away back in the day and pay on the gate.
Hold on to your embossed football scarves people, it could be one hell of a season.
Successive home defeats against Bradford and Burton have somewhat skewed the above narrative and hinted that the cakewalk to promotion may be quite a grind in places, but the overall picture is rosy.
On to Leyton Orient then.
A big game, an important game, as we close in on a quarter of the way through the season and aim to climb back towards the summit and re-establish the early-season euphoria.
The O’s fans have travelled in decent numbers, but one would have expected a lot more given the relative proximity of that there London and the easy transport options. They are quite vocal, and bless them, have unearthed the vintage chant ’It’s all gone quiet over there!’, last heard down the City in about 1974.
Pre-match, all the scuttlebutt centred on the inclusion of Robert Tankiewicz on the bench – at the age of 16 years and 3 months he will be the youngest ever City player should he get on the pitch today.
A Bluebird since the age of 8, he also represents Wales, and is causing quite a stir behind the scenes. An exciting midfield prospect whose time will surely come very soon, given BBM’s faith in the youngsters at Cardiff’s disposal.
Gale force winds subsided a little before kick-off and there were occasional blasts of sunshine to take the edge off the autumnal chill. Cardiff started poorly, disjointed, scrappy and seemingly bearing the scars of two punishing home reverses.
Early season confidence seemed to have deserted them as slipshod passing and organisational discombobulation allowed Orient to place an early stranglehold on the game.
Totally against the run of play, City opened the scoring with a very neat move, Chris Willock sliding a peachy ball into the path of Callum Robinson (a surprise inclusion at Salech’s expense), who brushed aside the attentions of two Orient defenders and coolly converted past a hapless Simkin.
Cardiff get in their groove a little after this, but are still cursed by loose balls and shoddy passing. Early advantage is surrendered in the most horrible fashion, as Agent Osho, with options to the left and
right of him, underhit a calamitous pass back to the keeper which was gobbled up by Connolly and swept past an enraged Trott.
Osho held his head in his hands, aghast at his slip-up, not the first of an increasingly wobbly afternoon for him, which has surely accelerated his demotion from the first 11.
At left back, Bagan again had a poor game and gifted Orient a chance which they lashed against the post. Cardiff looked all over the shop at the back, and but for a magnificent display from Nathan Trott, this game would have been over by half time.
Robinson and Willock miss three chances to put Cardiff ahead, Orient taking heart from the Bluebirds’ jitteriness, bossing midfield and out-muscling their opponents all over the park. City lack guile and grit to go with the intermittent sexy football.
Half time is a relief. On-edge City fans are expecting a huge improvement in the second half, City have been second best throughout. Dylan Lawlor’s goal early in the second half gets the fans roaring again – a rampaging run from deep within his own half, he swept past a wilting after-you-Claude defence and happily accepted the offer to have a bang on the edge of the box.
A first ever senior goal for the young gun, and surely the springboard for a takeover of this game.
Surely not. Keystone Cops defending at the other end, the ball ricocheting off countless Bluebird shins and ankles before being walloped home by El Mizouni, deflected off a hapless Joel Colwill.
Worse followed, but no complaints about Orient’s third goal, a genuine worldie from Dom Ballard, curved in beautifully past a groping Trott.
The fans finally started playing a part at this point, urging City on, and the triple substitutions on 65 minutes proved to be a turning point – the introduction of the lethal Salech adding a potent threat up front, but perhaps more importantly the contributions from 20 year old Omari Kellyman were genuinely game-changing – his surging runs ripping through a tattered Orient back line time and again – he was superb and will surely be in the frame for a first team slot for the next game – inventive, exciting and skill to burn.
The equaliser was a simple nod in from Salech from a sublime dinking cross from Rubin and spurred City on to wrench the game from Orient’s sweaty palms.
The O’s were rocking, and despite the superior possession, greater number of shots etc, they buckled before a finally flexing Cardiff side, who just about earned their victory with the sweetest of goals which summed up all the good stuff about this team – Kellyman combining with Kpakio, who laid it on a plate for Robinson to drive past the keeper.
What a game! A thrill-packed goalfest with as much calamitous defending, slovenly passing as there was slinky, sexy football but enough of that driving, creative game to warm the cockles and send the fans home beaming.
Much for BBM to consider and contemplate, not least the optimum team selection for next time.
Osho and Bagan were poor, Isaak Davies was ineffective, Willock and Wintle both struggled at times. Kellyman deserves 90 minutes, Lawlor, Salech, Robinson and Rubin were all terrific. Nathan Trott pulled off a hatful of masterful saves and was man of the match by a country mile.
Onwards and ever upwards. Lots to work on, stabilise the defence, sharpen up the finishing, man up to the physicality of League 1 bruisers, but do not sacrifice the plan – slick fast aggressive possession football.
This will potentially be a season to remember.
© Paul Davies 2025
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