“VOTE PIES” Blackpool Away

30th August.

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Picked up some vouchers at the Brighton game. Fill ‘em in and get free tickets for the England under 17s game on Friday evening. England playing Turkey in the St George’s Trophy (yes, never heard of it before either). But if I’m doin’ a lot of nothing else on Friday, why not?

My brother is up for it.

And Saddlers Widow has never been to an international (well, come on it is an international isn’t it?) … and never seen a game at Bescot Stadium.

So we gang up, park, unnecessarily in the traditional place and walk the what quarter mile? More? To the ticket office. Presenting the vouchers there is a computer check. This is football in the twenty first century I guess. Getting data into the system, the chance to e-mail information/ opportunities/ junk to new contacts. I’m already in the system; the staff could probably tell you what I like for breakfast, my usual tipple and that I like sugar with my half time coffee.

We wander in, through the turnstiles. The lounges being for “corporate” but we’re near enough to spit into our usual seats. And there is a reasonable crowd. Big moon hangs in the still sunlit sky (perigee this weekend) as the teams line up and the flags are paraded.

 

England are sharper in the first half (only forty minutes long) and go two goals up. Second half Turkey shade it and the England goalkeeper is exceptional. Steady drive back, feeling patriotic and wondering what my Turkish friends would have thought. Perhaps they will read this (hey guys), nod quietly.

Saturday begins with family matters: mother, preparations for a wedding somewhere on the periphery, daughter and partner are at home when I get back and we saddle up for the Blackpool adventure. All of the Walsall tickets have been sold but it is not all ticket. M6 is queue after queue, one speed limit after the other. The matrix signs become boring: same old information – and really how necessary is it to tell people there is a queue when they are sitting in a queue. We wonder if maybe some wannabe comedian should be hired to write a running joke (maybe one of those knock-knock ones) on the signs. Be much more entertaining than the repetitive ones we are seeing. Maybe even a web-site where you could vote for your favourite joke. Crazy but marvellous the things you talk about on journeys eh?

Oh, that and the intriguing “VOTE PIES” graffiti on the side of one of the bridges. First noticed it on the way up to a match last season. What is it all about?

Big motorways and wide roads lined with hanging posters about the attractions of Blackpool (Legends on the Sands ( Leg Ends on the Sand?) Tommy, Elton John, Waxworks … and CATS!). But almost believing we are driving onto a commercial estate we have to pass through a ridiculously narrow railway arch before popping out into the warm, sunlit but tacky town itself. Find the nearest car park, impressed by the shining white stadium: my first visit and the lure of the prom. Easy enough to get tickets and cooked to order fish and chips. With enough time to wander to the wide expanses of promenade, the tram tracks, Cinderella carriages drawn by horses and the civilised gulls that wait to be fed rather than raid your hand held lunch.

The Tower, the Pleasure beach, the piers, expansive clean beach (low tide obviously) and throw back donkey rides. And the sun is friendly, beaming down. Never quite realised that the football club was so close to the town centre.

So we stroll casually towards the shining ground, past some random front garden party with middle aged-plus men wearing Rastafari hats and artificial dreadlocks, past the disinterested protests of the Blackpool fans making a fuss about owner Karl Oyston (some serious financial tomblaggery by all accounts – but, hey either give the club your money or ship out and support somebody else!

Seriously over-egged stewarding, passing through three ranks of hi-vis vested worthies all making the same request:

“Can I see your ticket mate?”

Seriously? First we’ve never met before so I am definitely NOT YOUR MATE and what is the point of having three layers of people asking the same damned fool question; presumably if I didn’t have a ticket I would not have got past the first line.

But once inside it is clear to see the extent of the boycott.

Walsall faithful rammed into two stands at the corner, floor to rafters: singing, waving, all the regular chants being aired. The rest of the tangerine seated stadium dotted with one or two random, stoical real Blackpool fans. My respect to them. The front four rows of chairs in the “home” stands covered with tarpaulin – to prevent fans sitting there and invading the pitch, apparently.

But, down to the game after riotous reception for saddlers. Lalkovic not starting. Slow paced beginning, but even after ten minutes, when a right wing Blackpool attack breaks down their players are pointing accusingly at one another. And (sorry Rico) tiny Walsall wing back henry is bending former Premier League centre half Emmerson Boyce every which way.

Twenty minutes or so gone and we get a break. Sawyers, free to run onto pass, casually turns it with a toe and it drifts oh-so-slowly into the goal. Honestly I thought it had missed and was going out: no desperate chasing back from a tangerine shirt to clear it off the line.

  

We have a good view of the field, although the goal is scored at the far end (our ticket says “Restricted View” but actually no more restricted than our standard Walsall seats).

Second half Walsall are genuinely in control. Henry running down the flank hooked a low Bradshaw bound cross into the box. It was intercepted by a defender, Aldred, who promptly nodded it into his own net.

Then on the opposite wing Demetriou who was energetic all game pulled a high cross to the back post where Sam Mantom powered a header in to the net. The Blackpool keeper just sat in despair on the ground.

It got worse for him; just as I was heading to the loo Romaine Sawyers – cracking game from him today -smacked a powerful shot-from-nowhere into the net. Four nil!

We are swiftly back in the car, pulling out across traffic and, pleasingly surprisingly home by 7 o’clock. Much faster getting home – the difference a 4-0 win and Bank Holiday queues make!

We are taking our eldest daughter out for a birthday meal. What do I order?

I vote pies of course: Guinness and steak pie: very tasty end to the day with a couple of pints of a pale ale whose name I cannot recall – so busy re-running the goals!

Morecambe away next (Johnstone’s Paint Trophy) – up the same old stretch of M6, but may not make that one.

Seagulls at the Banks’?

Crowds were gathered at Shoreham for the annual Shoreham Air Show last weekend. Something went wrong. Dreadfully wrong – and as is the norm now there were so many cameras on it to record the Hawker Hunter (one of my personal aviation icons) topping out of a loop in blazing sunshine and – somehow, time will perhaps reveal – bottoming out too low and crashing into the nearby A27. Fireball!

Latest death toll yesterday was eleven and set to rise. So sad. And I am a great fan of air shows (though on holiday in Bideford I missed the one at Cosford this year) but this is real tragedy. People and families affected.

Shoreham: close to Brighton. Brighton our visitors this evening in the Capital One Cup. And one of the people who lost their lives in the disaster was a member of the Brighton hospitality staff as well as playing for Worthing F.C. as a genuinely rightful mark of respect before kick-off there was a minute’s silence. Enormously respectful – the whole crowd in harmony for a minute, between referee’s whistles.

 

Then applause and the game began.

Credit to the four hundred and some fans of Brighton who made the long journey; these are real supporters. Travelling the distances for away games in mid-week. As an experiment Walsall have moved away fans into the pitch-side stand, with both “ends” being allocated for Walsall fans. The idea, as best I understand it (and maybe I don’t) is that our team gets vocal support from both ends. This is fairly common at other away grounds. Let’s see what comes of it.

Certainly there were chants from both ends – and enough noise from the Brighton travelling masses.

Now Brighton began the game unbeaten: second in the Championship ( league above us) and started brightly enough. Our defence passing the ball smartly and accurately, but Brighton stronger and appearing fitter (as one might expect from a higher league side). Don’t get me wrong; I am constantly impressed by the levels of fitness shown by the Saddlers team: Jon Whitney has a lot to be proud of. But they also appeared more tactically savvy, changing and adapting and sharper.

Downing guilty of misplacing some passes and giving the ball away.

Referee was also sharp: we got a high number of free kicks in the first fifteen minutes. But then he slacked off, feeling, perhaps that he had established his authority.

Bradshaw playing a lone man up front, busy as ever, but getting nothing from the Brighton defenders. Credit to the striker – he never gave up chasing and harrying. Kieron Morris again supporting brilliantly: some wonderful close control as he ventured on long runs.

The corner score board screen surreally showed the pitch action. Smaller than real life. At rock concerts it is the very opposite: the stage screens show large images. Here we wondered at the point of the exercise. Really necessary?

But a few minutes before half time Brighton player Forster Caskey, after riding a challenge for a defender, decided to throw himself to the ground. Rather than book the blatant diver the referee pointed to the spot and the penalty was scored.

Half time – one of the access doors to the savoy Lounge being jammed we nipped inside for a coffee. Back out again afterwards Walsall’s attitude this season kicked in. they’ re from a higher league? Well, let’s get among ‘em then. Lalkovic, eager in the first half became more of a threat, jinking, turning, her one moment, somewhere different later.

Young, muscular centre half Matt Preston made his season’s debut (was that his parents next to me taking so many photos?) to replace Downing. Sawyers on for Flanagan. A long, perhaps hopeful ball down the line saw Tom Bradshaw, head down getting to it first, bustling past a defender and knocking it into the ox. Sawyers? No, he let it run: Lalkovic, steaming in hammered it home. He is very passionate, this twenty two year old and celebrated long and too hard, earning a yellow card. Such antic s (scoring and heart) have already made his return popular.

Now we were rampant!

But, another Brighton penalty at least as dubious as the first. Blazed high, wide and not terribly handsomely over the bar. To the delight of the Walsall fans ensconced behind the end where, normally Brighton fans would have been. Is this the desired effect?

Game ticking in to last ten minutes, we are well on top, pushing hard. Sawyers, having a much better game against this classier side, swung a ball into the path of raiding forward defender Rico henry: the tiniest player on the pitch. Tiny? But massive hearted; he’d run himself all over the pitch to that point. A great finish – and we hung on for the additional five minutes. Thanks ref!

Who would we like in the next round? I wondered aloud if Milan Lalkovic might like to have a crack at Chelsea the team that let him go.

Whaddaya know? Looking at the draw on the internet: Chelsea at home

The original Mourinho versus the “ginger Mourinho”

Meanwhile in the Athletics World Championships Jessica Ennis-Hill amazed herself and not a few aficionados by blasting her way to a gold medal. Modesty personified she is gritty, committed and gracious, she was uncertain about even competing in these games having given birth to a son just a year ago. Alf Tupper, are you looking in on this? And Greg Rutherford also claimed a gold in the long jump.

Close Shaves and World War III ? Coventry Home.

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23^rd August.

Getting just a little bit of stick at home for the – er – not quite beard that I am not quite growing. Its not a fashion thing, indeed not a big deal; just that when I don’t shave facial hair appears. But, casting for a suitable time to take a shave, some days ago I promised “after the Coventry game”. Because, seriously the Coventry game seemed like such a long way into the future.

Talking to a guy in the butcher’s car park. He went to his first ever Walsall game in 1948. He reels off a string of names that was the line-up. He does the same for a Liverpool team that played against Walsall in “one of the best games I’ve ever seen”. His wife, appearing from the butchers, is a west Brom fan and talks, with a smile about “when we beat Chelsea six-nil”.

They sometimes go, together to Hednesford Town football games – and it was very interesting to talk with him.

There is increased media speculation about the transfer market. Tom Bradshaw is – and properly so – a magnet for scouts. The big clubs have a week-and-a-bit to make their moves. Scuttlebutt on the Rochdale terraces was about how much: ) we’d miss him and b)how much he’d be sold for. There’s pride backed by realism to deal with if you’re a Saddlers fan.

Dean Smith is apparently also talking about making “two more signings”. We are a small club with a small squad. But to make anything like a real bid for any kind of sustained glory I reckon he is right. Injuries will bite at some point.

I have a friend who is a Coventry fan, but replied to an invitation to the game by saying that he “was taking his family to the zoo”. There’s a difference?

A warm drive to the game. Parked up and, not knowing the new season’s systems I enter via the turnstiles. Access to the Savoy Lounge ( needing a season pass) is changed: the restaurant is now in the centre of the room and we are permitted some space – and it might get crowded! – at the far end. So I have to burn the routes into my brain and delete the old by-habit ones … including which toilets to use.

Coventry have bought a goodly number of fans; the atmosphere is superb: noisy, bright, animated. Coventry are doing well (early season league leaders) and have high expectations. Stadium (this is my first home match) looks impressive. Good playing surface.

 

By these new routes it seems a long way to my seat, but sure I will get used to it.

There is a buzz from the beginning; this is one of the many local derbies throen at us this season. Notably Jason Demetriou (nominally full back) is forward and at home taking players on, little one-two passes and sharp. Etheridge, so mobile and looking more confident, has a few scrambles. Bradshaw is marked by a physically large centre half Reda Johnson: interesting. But we make ground and keep it, looking very positive and on the front foot. Coventry have their own goal machine, Adam Armstrong, teenager on loan from Newcastle, but their attacks fizzle out in poor shots.

Then there is a pantomime moment. On top of the professional (what a misnomer: it is nowhere near professional to fall over, feign injury and seek advantage – quite the opposite in fact!) part of their game one of the Coventry players (James Maddison) goes down – and stays down. Physio comes on – he’s there for an unusually long time before deciding Maddison can walk. Maddison then takes an equally long time to limp to the side line (carry the bloke for God’s sake, let’s get on with the game). Immediately, however the physio signals that he is OK to re-join the game, the ref waves him on,. He walks on to the pitch, looks at the bench, shakes his head and – sits down! He could have found that out while he was “off the field of play”!

Substitution! Six minutes gone!

The football being played is open, skilful and a wonderful advert for both teams – and, indeed football at this level. While the referee misses some things and is lenient with others the players are committed and seem to be enjoying the match themselves. We string about twenty passes together; the move ends with a promising shot; wide.

We break the deadlock just before half time. Bradshaw is marked pretty much out of the game, dropping back deeper to find the ball. He scoops a ball to the busy Sam Mantom who drops a wonderful pass in to Forde’s path. Cool finish: one nil!

Half time. We organise getting tickets for the Brighton game (Capital One Cup at home on Tuesday night) and wander out for what we think will be a torrid second half.

It is, but Walsall are keeping this aggressive attitude. Rather than sitting back on the one gaol (so expensive last season) we rally after the inevitable early Sky Blues pressure and Bradshaw (who else?) is there to snap up a rebound from Lalkovic’s shot and toe – poke the ball in for the second. Possession and quality then from saddlers. Kieron Morris (good start to the season from him) comes on for Forde and Cook comes on for Lalkovic. A surprise because It seems to be sawyers whose game is least effective at this point. He is too easily put off the ball of doesn’t get to the passes. But, hey I am not the manager – and we are winning two nil! What do I know?

In the final twenty minutes or so Coventry go for broke. Big centre half Johnson goes up front, they throw everything they have at us – and we endure, getting some counter attacks going to balance the game. We are not giving up, they can’t let us get another goal. They have a near-perfect free kick come back of our post. We relax: Etheridge had it covered after all. Didn’t he ? (No he bl**dy well didn’t!).

And Murphy, their clever nuisance value winger hits a screamer which Etheridge very definitely doesn’t have covered. Consolation. But on the drive on the way home, Brighton tickets in back pocket, I hear that we are (joint*) League One leaders – equal on points with Gillingham.

Teenager Joel Richards, long time Walsall supporter and local referee- one of a family of three who, along with other tourists was murdered in a terrorist attack on a beach in Tunisia – has had his efforts recognised by Birmingham County referees. He is awarded Referee of The Year. He should have been alive to collect it!

So it is now after the Coventry game: should I shave the “beard?

*hmmm; just wondering: shall I delete the “joint” before I publish?

Don’t ask, but suffice it to say I had fairly harassing day at New Cross hospital, Wolverhampton today. Quite unexpected on a warm day that began with a walk around Walsall Arboretum –interrupted by a phone call and then efficient and friendly paramedics, ambulance staff, A and E people (nurses, doctors and orderlies).

It ended well but one of the things helping me through the day – other than a text about a cheese sandwich – was the offer of a ride to Rochdale for my first game of the season. Cutting it fine – and finally on the outside of a simple (and simply delicious) cheese sandwich – made the rendezvous.

Some getting-together-again banter before setting out on what turned out to be a fairly tortuous journey. Accidents, traffic jams, diversions and red lights for road works. I am, foolishly left in charge of programming a – from what I can tell – state of the art sat nav (as if I would know!) … and eventually get it set – or we are heading for the Rochdale Rugby Stadium. Only time will tell.

There is a request to hold the birthday cake for the return journey and we see some floodlights shining across from the opposite said of a valley as we see Rochdale on signposts. Could it be?

Ends up it is. We jam the car in a tight, just-about-legal space in a one-way street and pile out, going back for the one who is left in the car, stymied by a child lock. We laugh, not sure if he sees the funny side.

We sample the pies inside: steak gets the thumbs up and my meat and potato is most welcome: just hot enough and peppery to perfection.

The Walsall faithful are in good numbers and better voice: in the side stand and we nab seats up at the top with a good view of a well-tended surface in a compact ground.

There is little that can be said for League positions this early in the season. But … we have made a much better start to this season, because it is possible to get left behind from the beginning … and this is what happened last year (we tell ourselves; adding that was then, this is now and nodding wisely). But we start both brightly and – yes, I am going to say it: cockily. Passing easily between players, short passes, long ones, finding a Walsall player. Looking good – and Rochdale seem bemused, ill prepared or just not warmed up. It doesn’t last of course. They soon start to close us down and the passes start to go astray; they are at home after all. But while we seem to pose little or no, neither do they: they seem content to break our play up, rather than following up and doing any harm. Bit of a stale stalemate really. A few chances. Kieron Morris is impressive, intelligently easing the ball away when the Rochdale keeper can’t hold it – Bradshaw cannot put the short pass into the net _ he’s good but not that good! Milan Lalkovic quieter and more easily subdued than I would have liked: he was stunning while here on loan with erratic and brilliant random spins, runs and passes. Everybody has an off day of course: maybe this is his?

Throughout it all there is the rolling thunder of chants and support from our left: not all making geographical sense, but all in a good cause and showing spirit and humour if not musical ability.

And the Rochdale challenges are (diplomatically speaking) strong, prompting no card-reaction from the referee. So, inevitably while we are able to ride these crisp, no-nonsense tackles our stronger players start to front up as well. Fair is fair and the contest equalises out.

 

Second half well under way and a couple of changes: Sawyers and Forde on for Flanagan and Lalkovic.

Rochdale have the ball in the net, but it is bravely –and properly – disallowed: off side prompted derision and mockery from my left. The Rochdale fans go quiet again (“Your support is worse than ours” is the next chant and “Worse than a library, it’s even worse than a library!”)

Adam Chambers has been so busy, covering a lot of the field: the man furthest forward, winning last ditch tackles and shepherding the ball. O’Connor, playing at centre half is strong; his one mistake heading back to an agile goalkeeper who had come out for the ball (and had to sprint back and punch it out). He is an acrobat this Neil Etheridge, busy, stretching and leaping, getting bowled over a couple of times. But also, so far, resilient.

We go ahead marvellously after Taylor starts a move and gets into the box to hammer the goal in.

Some fans around me want us to calm the game down, keep the ball, but we continue to press forwards. Not at all like last season when we sat, mistakenly, on one goal leads and had the game snatched away. Not this season. Sam Mantom gets his second goal in two games (he dedicated the goal last game to his great grandfather) with a powerful, deflected shot.

It is only really then that Rochdale look like a threat going forwards, throwing four men up and taking no prisoners in physical tussles. It is noticeable though that it takes their players longer to get up after the ball has gone. Lack of fitness, ability, commitment or pride?

They do get a consolation goal, but we turn away, with the floodlights lighting up the foliage of sycamore trees and head back to the car for some of that cake!

In international sports news former Olympic athlete and present Tory politician Seb (now Lord) Coe has been elected as President of the International Amateur Athletics Federation). The sport is currently beset – as cycling was a couple of years ago – with allegations, rumours and attention on drug taking to enhance performance. He faces an interesting (Chinese curse: may you live in interesting times) few years.

More locally Worcester will be hosting the international Women’s Wheelchair Basketball finals and, in a bid to understand, the press releases say, the problems faced by wheelchair users the Mayor of Worcester took to the streets today in a wheelchair. If it is a gimmick it is a good one – and just maybe some good will come of it. Good luck to all taking part.

Meanwhile for all that these are the earliest of early days Saddlers are third in the table and a have a home game against top-of-the-table Coventry City coming up. Saturday!

Parades and Local Radio: Southend Away

Saturday 15^th August

Home.

Coincidence eh? Serendipity?

Today we are celebrating the seventieth anniversary of VJ day. In London – and I have been absorbed in watching marvellous BBC TV coverage there is a flypast (Dakota transport plane, followed by a lump-in-the-throat Hawker Hurricane followed amazingly slowly by a Typhoon Eurofighter (magical contrasting silhouettes)).

A drum head service on Horse Guards parade and a final informal celebration to be held in Dean’s Yard (where I was last weekend – and which I mistakenly named Dean’s Court – apologies to all offended). I recognised so many points of interest as the cameras followed form the rigorous ceremonial to the wonderfully friendly march/ walk out of Horse Guards, down Whitehall, past the Cenotaph, Parliament Square, the frontage of the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. Fitting too that so much is being made of Empire and Commonwealth troops and the magnificent part they played in the conflict and how much they too suffered in captivity: different cultures, different religions.

  

As British we are good at pomp and pageantry: it feels understated and ingrained and is the better for it; we have so much history after all – and should be proud of it.

But, while away that weekend I found a book I had been looking for (actually dropping big hints that it might make a good Christmas/birthday present – nothing doing): Unbroken, the story of U.S. airman Louie Zamperini who was imprisoned in Japanese POW camps. And, this weekend, the very day I finish reading it is VJ Day.

So, I missed the kick-off of the Saddlers game at faraway Southend, but checking with the radio (sometimes trite but usually good value BBC WM) at half time I find that Tom Bradshaw put us one nil up after seven minutes – and the goal horn has just sounded and Sam Mantom has got us a second.

It is quite thrilling: the new season after what seems like a long (very productive and relaxing) summer/close season. And the fact that Bradshaw is still popping the goals in. But also that we seem – as, to be fair had been promised by Ginger Mourinho (a.k.a. manager Dean Smith) – to be going forward even after going into a lead. This didn’t happen often last season. I like this attitude – a lot. It must make the games more exciting – and puts goals into the statistics in case needed for the end of the season. This is a good start!

I am still considering the service provided by this Saturday commentary/up-date tradition. It helps fans follow a team say, if money is tight, if attendance is impossible, if you are driving. Well worth it. We are not featured as the commentary game as often as I would like and I would like to know how the decisions are made as to which games/teams to prioritise.

League One this season consists of mainly Midlands teams: Walsall fans it appears have the fewest miles to drive to see every league game of the season. This is also interesting: money allowing of course.

Southend, promoted from League two at the end of last season cannot match – on the day – our efforts and we win two nil; this puts us fifth in the league (although there are – TV schedules demanding – teams with games in hand. But Bradshaw with four goals is substituted (hopefully not crocked) and Sawyers has already got two goals.

Meanwhile the sport with a different shaped ball (rugby union) is in the news: the World Cup finals will be played in England and Wales, kicking off in mid-September. The Webb-Ellis trophy meanwhile (he who introduced the whole rugby concept by – effectively – cheating during a football game) has been on public display around our nations. It is currently in Rugby where the whole thing started, allegedly back in 1832.

 

“That’s Quite a First Forty Five Minutes …”*

 

11^th August.

Upstairs room: home.

My brother is elsewhere, my usual partners in crime in the south west of England or beyond contact: so- a day on the allotment and listening to the radio (BBC WM commentary on Bristol Rovers v Birmingham City Capital One Cup game) with highlights from the Saddlers at Nottingham Forest and Wolves v Newport County games.

Highlights?

Three changes from the team that drew against Oldham in the season’s first game: Lalkovic in the team, Rico henry in the back three and Kieron Morris playing (Romaine sawyers, Andy Taylor and Jordan Cook stepping aside as it were).

Forest are one of the fancied-for-promotion sides in the Championship, but after eleven minutes Bradshaw has put us in front. Great news and before I can take it in he’s only gone and done it again. two nil up; fourteen minutes gone. Who would have thought it? By half time Forest are putting the pressure on; pulling a goal back. But it’s still sounding good!

Sunday’s tour of Buckingham palace was outstanding; side stepping massive queues and leisurely following and audio tour through geography, society and history. So many marvellous impressions of a brilliantly put together stroll through intense changes and modern royalty. I am impressed!

The journey back is through Chelsea (where is Chelsea Football Club?) past Lord’s cricket ground and a glimpse of Brentford’s football ground and the ridiculous pomp of that Wembley Arch – sorry, still can’t see the point of that.

Meanwhile, after the half time chattering with pundits and esteemed guests (mick Kearns always so refreshingly honest about Walsall, even denigrating players and performances at times. Not this time: he’s surprised, proud and, dammit downright impressed. Me too – even at this distance. The commentary game goes on, sounding frankly boring and I get the impression (perhaps a.k.a. bias) that the producers wished they’d plumped for the game at Notts Forest.

Chambers, usually solid and professional is injured, tries to carry on but has to be substituted. Romaine sawyers coming on in his place. This is definitely not a like-for-like substitution: we don’t have anybody like Chambers!

But – and I’ve seen the video Sawyers is starting the season on fire. An eye opener for me! He is ready to take a pop whenever the chance presents itself. Bradshaw fluffs a shot, the ball drops – a long way – for Sawyers and it’s in the net!

I’m sitting here, big smile on my face. And it gets bigger as time passes, passes, passes. Then, whoops Forest have made a substitution and the sub scores. Surely that’ll be it. The game is nearly finished. But – ouch with a capital Oh! That self-same sub scores an equaliser – and we’re bound to be heading for extra time. (it’s a very classy goal actually, spontaneously taken back heel: confident and cheeky … why is this guy only the substitute?)

But as I am beginning to think that BBC will switch to the Forest game for the inevitable extra time:

“there’s a moment of pure drama here. Walsall have been given a penalty … Tom Bradshaw to take it …”

His first ever professional hat trick. Scored the winner in the final seconds of time-added-on.

A stunning result!

I decide there and then to light up the fire-pit outside, sit and watch the sky for the Perseid meteor shower. Pleased and proud. That result shows spirit and attitude. It may not last for long, but I am pleased to be a Saddlers fan at this moment … and I haven’t been to a match yet!

• quote from BBC reporter at half time – and it wasn’t nearly over by then!

Lapsed Already …

Saturday! 8^th August!

Hampton by Hilton Hotel, Luton.

Really it seemed like such a good idea at the time: a tour of the Houses of Parliament (eight hundred years after King John “Lackland” signed the Magna Carta that, arguably, started this whole democracy thing going here). It seemed like a bargain when we actually booked it: tour of said Houses, overnight in a hotel, breakfast and evening meal thrown in –and coach from Walsall bus station (moreorless) …

But then it cruelly transpires that it’s the first day of the football season. Worse saddlers are at home for that first game … and it seems eminently winnable (as per usual of course): unsettled Oldham Athletic. The local papers have been full of “this-is-the-season” talk, of Dean Smith or one of the “talking head” players coming out with how ell pre-season training has gone and the new signings (three, count ‘em; three) will bring great benefits to the inevitable promotion push. Sorry, I am a staunch supporter: loyal beyond the call …

… and anyway, sticking doggedly to the decision to see the Homes of Democracy, Constitution and Majesty, resign myself to missing an opening victory.

So many coach tours leaving from Walsall: to the O2, to London shows, to this place or that; and so many passengers waiting. It made me positively cheerful on a warm morning. We waited in the Victoria gardens adjacent to the impressive Houses of parliament and while we were snacking on our packed lunch observed, right next to us the result of thievery: some poor woman becoming hysterical because she had felt a bump, just after she had bought a guide book, thought nothing of it but now her purse (£120 pounds sterling and credit cards have disappeared). Eventually after standing and ignoring the extremely upset woman two policemen were encouraged by a French tourist to “help her” (she had refused our offers of help).

 

The crowds and babel of chatter seemed so much more threatening after that and I was glad to get into the building. But the audio tour, though informative failed to inspire. This is the real home of Western democracy; though we may get the word from Ancient Greece what we have here is very different in its breadth and inclusion. The Magna Carta forced the monarchy to recognise and grant certain rights to the already powerful en of the times, but successively more and more of the people have been given rights. Though exactly how Cromwell’s Commonwealth failed to finish off the crown is beyond me. The geography of the place is easier in my mind now, the rooms somewhat familiar from TV views are small, if not cramped and undoubtedly full of gravitas. I cannot help thinking however that the performance of MPs in debates appears like a poorly managed classroom: loud and lacking in intelligence.

But the magnificent history of the institution is lacking and the commentary is spoken without passion and pride.

We leave via the cramped café and necessary liquid refreshment and end up in Dean’s Court: a quiet oasis behind Westminster cathedral. Dean’s Court reminding me of dean’s Court Road, one time home ground of Premiership new boys: Bournemouth who, in 2008 were hopelessly deep in financial problems – and toady, with backing from the obligatory money-bagged Russian are playing against the big dogs of the Premier League. Proving that dreams can become reality (though money helps the process) … and, of course everything is to be won or lost.

At nine, after a poor meal (poor choice, no service and health and safety colder than permissible (at an intelligent guess) I am back in the room to watch Channel 5’s Football league Show: the first ever. Promising to show highlights of every football league game so Walsall will be on there somewhere. I remember predicting a 4 – 1 win and I still, as the programme “kicks off” have not heard the score line. There is some comedy; in one game a courteous back pass to the goalkeeper goes unexpectedly into the net, so the hmmm offending team literally let the opposition walk the ball into their own net as recompense. Wolves win away from home with gaol from a diving header that the striker actually cannot reach so propels into the net with his hand: blatantly. The look of embarrassed surprise on his face when the goal is given is priceless. What should he do at this point? Tell the referee that he handled the ball?

But the Walsall game has few sparse seconds. Sawyers scores after eight minutes, then close to the end Oldham equalise. Next please …

Shame I could have spent longer in the bland (diplomat speak for boring) dining room/bar wondering what the 3-D displays in the glass cases were. Hatboxes of course. Luton … Luton Town: the Hatters. Luton was famous for the hat making industry before Vauxhall Motors took over the town. And the hotel stands on land – next to the railway – that once was covered with popular cars and white vans on their way to successful markets all over Europe. But that was then and this is now and some visionaries have designs on the land again.

 

Ironically I also notice that the location of the football ground is only just squeezed into the corner of the free hotel courtesy map and I wonder whether Walsall hotels have maps that show the location of Bescot. I certainly hope so: not being “on the map” is surely one of the ways to obscurity.

Buckingham Palace tomorrow; if I can get some sleep.

3-5-2?

30th July, 2015

Home

Well, we drew 1 – 1 with Aston Villa in a friendly at Bescot, following this up with a 2 – 0 loss against Tony Pulis’ Baggies (apparently trying out a 3 – 5 – 2 formation). Dean Smith has gone on record as saying he is pleased with the way the team performed in this latter game. It is, of course what I’d expect a manager to be saying in public at this stage where everything is, once again to win– and, not being at the game I’m properly willing to give the necessary credit. WBA being Premiership opposition – in addition to being a Tony Pulis team – always meant they would be hard to match.

This early Thursday afternoon as I type this I discover our “young saddlers” respectably beat (very local) Chasetown F.C. Now with the greatest of respect to the Scholars, we should be starting to win some of these games now, friendless or not, but again games have to be won – so take my hat off to the team.

Our final pre-season game is at Luton Town on Saturday … then the rough stuff begins. The reality, so I hope the feel-good, enthusiastic just-what-fans-need-to-hear stories of high levels of fitness, camaraderie and confidence get borne out once the proper whistles start to blow. Self-praise is no flattery after all.

Channel 4 deserve credit for the superb way they have shown the Tour de France, not only highlights but the whole live stages in gruelling glory. Team Sky take the plaudits for stage wins, team performance and the ultimate yellow jersey winner Chris Froome. Unfortunately Froome in particular has been dogged by very public media harpoons about drug taking and spectator fury. God knows the watchers come awfully – intimidatingly – close to the riders throughout the race, but Froome has been spit upon and had urine thrown over him. Personally I realise that it will take some time for the stigma and harm done to the sport by the once-mighty Lance Armstrong – and his lack of realisation, despite an apology – that he was doing serious wrong to the sport and everyone involved. The first ever Tour de France was ridden in 1903; this year there were one hundred and sixty starters – some of them specialist sprinters or mountain climbers, but the overall win goes to the one with the lowest overall time across rigorous conditions, hairpin, climbing corners, cobbled roads and a final day that laps the roads of Paris.

Originally dominated by French ,then European riders this year has many more decent and outstanding riders form Peru, Australia – and gold old Britain (not forgetting Mark Cavendish from the Isle of Man!).

Down in the one-time Olympic stadium the Sainsbury’s Anniversary Games have been going on: Great come-back from having a child from Jessica Ennis-Hill and unexpectedly brilliant performance from Usain Bolt in – inevitably perhaps – wet conditions. Athletics looks very good on TV at the moment.

After some serious legal and somewhat political wrangling West Ham will be moving from Their current Boleyn Ground (a.k.a. Upton park) to this enormous venue. Definitely sad for the actual local teams (Leyton Orient I think) who will be overshadowed by at least the physical presence of the ground. But I have to think that the tax payers money is going to a good cause, on one hand; while also wondering if we will get any rebates. Hmm, give me a few moments on that to chexk if those were pigs flying past the upstairs window.