It’s A Friendly, Right?

It’s a sunny day: a lot gets done during the day.

I have used my season ticket for the first time (to reserve my seat) and get two extra tickets for the friendly game this evening. Opponents Leicester City (new boys to the Premier league in the forthcoming season).

Promises to be interesting right?

Walsall’s results in friendlies so far not exactly encouraging. But they’re friendlies right? Meant to add to player’s fitness, get them playing together like a well-oiled machine (nah, you’re right that metaphor definitely doesn’t work … but it’s staying put!), test out new strategies, different positions, all that malarkey …

Then again, so far we’re getting players injured in these games and it’s time to start sweating., maybe. We have a small squad, so injury problems are never far away, if not actually paying a visit and eating your scones.

Good crowd from Leicester; posh coaches too. Our daughter Rebecca, who teaches in Leicester, is one of my guests. The other is a Liverpool fan, just interested in seeing a game I guess.

The new electronic scoreboard! It’s bright, it shows pictures that are synched with the announcements and, soon after kick off the timer is wrong. the pitch looks splendid, but, then again, if it’s not pristine now, there’s really no hope is there?

Our number 2 is listed on the team sheet as “A. Triallist”. He is big! A little out of fitness and he doesn’t track back when big Wes Morgan lumbers up to score Leicester’s first. Nobody to blame really for the second. A good tackle from Paul Downing (our vice-captain this season) bobbles to a Fox, David Nugent, who hammers it sweetly into the net. We’re looking a bit nervous at this point.

Just before the break some relaxed Leicester defending sees our number two stick the ball in the net. Bit rough house, but it’s “in the sprout bag” and the referee gives it. Bit of muscle, just what we’ll need when the pressure is on and we need to use a target man to soak up time.

The announcement of the scorer is typical Walsall.

“The first goal for the Super saddlers was scored by number two … I don’t know who*.”

We seem invigorated after the break. Baxendale sharper, O’Connor (new signing) and Mal Benning, especially looking useful.  Adam Chambers, new captain is at the centre of things, leading, typically by example and effort. The ball gets squeezed up the wing, dinked inside; a run from A. Triallist who looks up and slides the pass inside for another new boy Ashley Grimes to equalise.

Both teams give the other a thoroughly good work out. Leicester look less threatening in the second half, but manage a winner after a welter of substitutions, including “Another Triallist”.

It’s still warm when we leave the ground, with stewards not yet “up to speed on segregating the masses trying to exit via the Bonser Suite. Not an easy job: but this year I can smile and flash my season ticket.

Don’t worry people this is a friendly, you have time to get your act together. The Express and Star and web-site Bescot Banter certainly do. They have the Triallist named and noted as Mathieu Manset.

“On Your Marks, get Set … Glasgow!”

The opening ceremony of the Commonwealth Games: Celtic Park, Glasgow.

A couple of days – and many heats and medal ceremonies – ago now. It’s now day 6 but the whole thing started with a moody, but intelligent poem/introduction/shots of the city from Billy Connolly. Want to know how a city can change Billy C is a perfect allegory!

Highlights?

Then a brash in-yer-face expensive end-of-pier musical tour-de-force with John Barrowman (he of chameleon-nationality and over-confidence-beats-talent-anyday). Tongue in cheek, entertaining and fast moving.

The people of Glasgow, lead step-by-step to Rod Stewart (always a champion of the want-away, play-away pantomime Scot) singing the “never will I roam” song. Ironic in so many ways.

Nicola Benedetti, stunning violinist playing “Loch Lomond” as the flags came in, one of those tunes that will forever remind me of local Midlands band Quill in that just when you think  another verse/fill/solo cannot possibly be pulled out – it jolly well is: better, more emotional and powerful than the one you thought couldn’t be topped. The moment when the top wouldn’t come off the Queen’s baton (sir Chris Hoy on hand to help out) and the Queen’s charming small gesture of relief, cheeky delight in the background. The next song from rascal Rod Stewart striking a chord and igniting the games beginning.

    

But, cleverly, powerfully and most importantly Ewan MacGregor announcing the fund-raising for U.N.I.C.E.F. and viewers asked to unite for a single, undeniable purpose: to make things better for the children. It’s easy to be cynical, to say that the commonwealth actually isn’t a sharing “common wealth” but using such an occasion to do some good can only be good. Can’t it?

The Red Arrows trailing their comfortable, traditional red, white and blue trails (the colours of the British flag? A mistake perhaps?) over the Clyde (guess Scotland will have to pay for them to display north of the border if independence goes ahead). Speaking of which Alex Salmond (Scottish Nationalist Party … er, what future for them if the independence vote goes against them?) was there to give a statesman voice to the ceremony, the mayor of Glasgow to give a local politician’s rousing passion and Her Majesty the Queen, head of the Commonwealth to declare it all open.

The parade of athletes, so obviously happy, cameras and selfies in a marvellously crowded arena. the background commentary was also informative and unobtrusive: silent when there was little that needed to be said.

I hope the games go well. I like the simpler approach to sport that is evident here; the “Equality, Freedom, Humanity” label that is the “birthright” of those who belong to the Commonwealth.

It was an enjoyable TV spectacle; had me thinking about sports (there are some uniquely “British” ones in these games: netball is a good example … and the Commonwealth itself: tiny places like Vanuatu, Kiribati, The Isle of Man (the “home nations here are represented separately for a change).

And, like it says soften on the label these are the “friendly games”; not, at this stage anyway, the overly produced reputations at stake Olympics, nor the overly commercialised World Cup.

Bring on the games!

Cornish Sunburn and the Commonwealth.

Ouch! Got up this morning after a poor night’s sleep. Intense headache. True to a morning ritual, turned on BBC morning TV. Straight into a shot of what looked like the beach we were on* – and getting sunburned (!) – last week in North Cornwall. An item about a people-science jellyfish survey. Coincidence or what? We actually visited the Blue Reef Aquarium in Newquay and my favourite tank there was the one with the moon jellyfish circulating – and the neighbouring tanks with different stages of jellyfish development.

This item was followed by one on the Commonwealth Games; the opening ceremony is on Wednesday. “The friendly games”. Fifty three nations and territories from what started off as the Victorian British Empire meeting and competing in Glasgow. Earlier this week there was  a rather stunning and pictorially brilliant programme titled The seven Wonders of the Commonwealth. Dan Snow, Denise Lewis (former gold medallist turned presenter), Reggie Yates, Anita Rani and Claire Balding variously in the Sundarbans, Papua, New Guinea, the Solomon Islands, New Zealand’s fiordland, Victoria Falls (“the Smoke that Thunders”), the Namib Desert and Fingal’s Cave … Funny I have been to Namibia, but hadn’t realised it was part of the Commonwealth. Of course during these games there is no Team GB, we have teams from each of the states and nations: anybody here from the Isle of Man?

   

Also on the news: more about the crashed Malaysian flight disaster. Overflying the Ukraine it may well have been shot down by Russian separatist or loyal Ukrainian forces. Or something more innocent altogether. But at the moment the separatists who occupy the crash site area will not let investigators in to find out more. The Palestinian Israeli conflict continues to worsen: neither side seeming to be able to accept even the shortest of cease-fire arrangements. Genuine political grievances aside this is another example of ordinary people (on both sides) suffering for an intangible greater good.

While we were away the F.I.F.A. World Cup Finals came to a close. Brazil looking poor and needing sympathy. Germany beating Argentina and Holland taking third place. But, being on a seaside, family holiday there were other priorities.

Oh, and we watched the intriguing sagas in the Tour de France as one by one those who started as favourites literally crashed out: Chris Froome, Mark Cavendish … and being away with a couple of serious cyclists has that must-watch effect on me.

Meanwhile Walsall’s low-budget publicity machine made much of the signing of – is he a winger or a striker  – Jordan Cook, from Shrewsbury and a lot of hype around “the youngsters” coming through the ranks (Reece Flanagan and Amado Bakayoko); only for Cook to turn an ankle in a friendly game (which we lost 2-1) and put himself in doubt for the start of the season. Local paper, the Express and Star quotes Dean Smith as saying, something like “I will be looking at strikers over the next couple of weeks.” Not really a surprising reaction.

Smith has been very good in the past at getting quality/overlooked players to Bescot on loan. It is to be hoped he can continue to work that kind of magic. I am looking forward to the season beginning but sense we need some firepower and some experience to go with it.

Need to stop typing now, that headache is starting to return.

*Actually, for accuracy, it wasn’t the same beach (Constantine ) but one nearby at Perranporth.

Totally Unexpected … Brazil v Germany, World Cup Semi-Final.

So I finish this day in Tamworth a little later than expected; but doesn’t worry me too much. I am still confident I will be at home in front of the TV in time for the Brazil v. Germany World Cup semi-final game. At this point, not being addicted to the World Cup matches I freely confess I thought it started at 5 p.m. English time. But the road was busier than I had expected. Sod’s law. The traffic lights all against me. The queues always in my lane.

Still, I told myself, no need to panic. Imagined that, without Neymar (broken vertebrae in the last game in one of the last rough-house challenges in a whole series of lunges, assaults, dives and pantomime injuries) and Tiago Silva (suspended after second yellow card) the game would be well in progress. In my fantasy Germany would score first, then be inexorably reeled in and Brazil to score the much-deserved winner somewhere around eighty minutes.

Got back at 5.15. No football on TV. Checked the TV schedules: ahem… …  nine o’clock start.

Time to watch highlights of the Tour de France, take a ‘phone call from my mother, talk about the impending holiday in Cornwall, discover that Walsall have signed up Jordan Cook (said to be a striker) and have a couple of Spanish players on trial and get a beer, incidentally and very neatly avoiding having to listen to the whole overblown chitter-chatter of the pundits before the actual kick off.

Then it all started to happen!

Brazil, frankly, despite massive support from the crowd, unbelievably totally blew it.

Wrong tactics, wrong personnel, overly emotional, overly hyped …

Or simple facing a superior team that played with efficiency, style and real purpose. Making holes in the Brazilian defence and whatever they tried to pass off as a midfield German players also showed silky skills and deft touches.

Some bluster and attempts to intimidate from a lacklustre David Luis – skipper for the night – and a ridiculous dive by Marcelo seeking a penalty were sad glimpses in the early moments.

As eleven minutes clicked up, super approach play and Miroslav Klose stuck Germany in the lead. Then a German avalanche engulfed the Brazilians who looked punch-drunk and vulnerable.

 

More goals, inevitably followed in what was described accurately at one point by commentator Martin Keown as a “testimonial game”.

By half time the Brazilians were out of it completely. Five nil down. The crowd quietened and broken spirited. Pictures of fans openly weeping filled the TV screen.

Eventual result: Seven one; the Brazilian fans reduced to booing on-the-giant-screen pictures of the players substituted. Didn’t like that: poor attitude. Remind me of that comment if I ever, publicly veer away from proper support of my own team and act so disrespectfully. Maybe “everybody has a bad day at the office” doesn’t begin to cover the vast abyss between teams out there, the often gross ineptitude of usually world-class players but I find that unacceptable. Cheering the opposition? Nothing wrong there. Criticism of your own team? Fine in private or when constructive. but Boo-ing yer own?

 

(There was a time, back in the day, when I became disenchanted with what I was seeing at Walsall. Tommy Coakley was manager at the time: a little more than out of his depth I guess looking back), but I simply stopped going. Bought a mountain bike and stayed away.)

Happily things have moved on at the Saddlers –as they always will. Brazil will now have a time of introspection – as a team and as a country. Doubtless we will now hear more of the protestors who criticised their government for staging the finals (feeling there were more urgent priorities, like health, poverty and education). But the players and manager will have to “cowboy up” to participate in the third/fourth place play-off game and this may be a time to salvage some pride.

So, all of my “tips” (“England,” said my heart;  “Italy,”  suggested the library sweepstake and “Brazil!” calculated my logical (?) brain) are out of contention. But the football has been compelling in these knock-out stages.

Ee Bah Gum, Lad: Tour’s On.

Sitting here, watching the gruelling hill-climb stages of the Tour de France (second day, Harrogate to Sheffield stage) I am trying to take the beans out of two recycled buckets full of broad beans. Outside the sun is still shining as it is on the massive crowds lining the route of the race. Yorkshire, indeed England, has taken this opportunity to heart. There are French flags, Slovakian supporters (of Peter Sagan), Cornish flags, the Union flag, writing on the roads (“Eat Yorkshire Pudding!”) in traditional Tour de France style; even a Black Country flag. It is marvellous to see such an enthusiastic response – and the camera work is excellent too. I love the way the landmarks and features are in French and the distances in kilometres and that the commentary includes good background historical, geographical and cultural references.

      

 

Our daughter featured in some “Tour de Facts” videos about the English stages and general rules of the Tour de France for English cycle sales, parts and repair stores, Halfords. I am, of course indubitably proud of her … but they are also quite informative and well made: I managed to learn things I was previously unaware of, and watching them has improved my enjoyment of the race I am now watching as broad beans bounce off the footstool around my ankles. (The “yellow jersey” is yellow because this was the colour of the pages of the newspaper that introduced it – before that the race leader wore a green armband only).

These videos are available on YouTube: if you are interested take a look at this first in the series http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvTDV2iirnk

I would have been quite happy  to have watched the Grand Depart (from Leeds, yesterday) but in the cyclical way of things in my life the very daughter that rode in and presented the Tour de Facts videos was moving house, so … a busy day not watching TV. However I am happy to report that the move, nicely timed to include a switch over overlap between rented accommodation and completion date, sees the new house well decorated and new carpets installed.

After the Grand Depart the race proceeded in blazing hot sunshine (nothing at all like the wet weather forecast!) and within sight of the finish line Mark Cavendish and another rider both came off their bikes. “Cav” most recently bandied about as an Isle of Man native is suddenly lauded as a native of Yorkshire – but, is now out of the whole Tour, having broken a collar bone – and done the decent thing by admitting the coming together was all his fault. Such sportsmanship.

In a TV interview with Ian Brailsford (manager of the ultra-successful Sky team) talked about his decision to leave out Sir Bradley Wiggins, saying that, in recent years the Sky team had been turned from “plucky losers to two-times winners” and that part of that turn around in mind-set was due to someone somewhere along the line making such calls.

In another strand of my life I have been excited by news that Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend are together for another Who tour – and that I have managed to get tickets for the show in Birmingham. December. Something else to look forward to.

 

The Drama and the Pantomime Villain.

World Cup Finals

Brazil vs Chile

I am sitting here, exhausted, less by a yesterday spent  helping to decorate our  daughter’s new house  than by the couple of breath taking hours I have spent watching exciting drama unfold in Belo Horizonte. A match full of thrills, spills, endless endeavour and end to end football. A game that showed skilful players can also go toe-to-toe, taking and dishing out hard – but generally fair – physical punishment. Long-range and accurate shooting, long mazy dribbles, one-two passes, headers, agility from both keepers, and a stadium filled with supporters out to enjoy the spectacle and give their teams total support. A game that had me on the edge of my seat. A game that would have made a marvellous final.

The stadium filled with fans wearing either the bright yellow of Brazil or the proud red of Chile. Fans grouped and mixed together. Another level of atmosphere altogether.

Effort, pride, skill and emotion as the game see-sawed from end to end. Brazil taking the lead. The Chilean manager Jorge Sampaoli striding like a Ted Hughes caged tiger in the technical area, tense like a fist. Prowling. The tactics he had given his team worked. A loose throw in, possession seized and the ball beautifully turned into the Brazilian penalty box for Alexis Sanchez to rifle the ball into the net.

Some refereeing I was, at first annoyed by, big tackles going without remark or warning. But credit to Howard Webb and his two assistants (retrospectively) for letting the tow teams rip into each other with full-blooded challenges and muscle. Braver still in the early part of the second half he disallowed a Hulk goal for handball … when t=it would have been far, far easier to let it stand and give the well-supported home team the edge.

Instead the decision seemed to rock the Brazilian team a lot. Chile pressed them back and back and back and were on top for long spells – just could not score.

Inevitably extra time came and went. Penalties!

Great saves by Julio Cesar kept the first Chile penalties out, but the team rallied. Drew level. A fine display of nerves from all involved, but especially Neymar, tempting Claudio Brava (Chile’s captain) into diving (he didn’t) before the ball was struck. Brazil went through when their last penalty taker hit the post.

But what a brave effort and what an inspiring spectacle for the world audience.

It could have been the final, so intense was the competition. It could have been none of the better English derby game, with the strength of tackles and challenges going in; the exhausting amount of commitment shown by all.

Contrast this to the despicable, truly irrational behaviour of a most talented but seriously misguided Luis Suarez, biting Italian defender Chiellini during a game. Not the first time he has done this, having previously done so while wearing an Ajax and a Liverpool shirt. Both punished.

This third offence, seen by a world wide audience is exactly the wrong kind of example, taking the glory from what is still a simple, beautiful and beautifully simple game. He has been given a four month football ban. Long enough?

I am truly not sure.

 

On a more mundane, but Saddlers-style note, we have failed to get Febian Brandy back. After he was released by Sheffield United he decided to go to Championship club Rotherham. Understandable: a higher level of football, more money. But disappointing at the same tie. Wish him well – unless we play them of course!