The Blues: Chelsea at Home.

Thursday, 24th September, 2015

At home.

Saturday evening …

So I’ve watched Dr Who …

… still have some energy, can’t sleep, so I pull the guitar down and doodle about with some simple (believe me I can only pick them far more slowly and ham-fistedly than they deserve, but nobody’s listenin’ right?) and on TV in the background is Match of The Day, gurning away between talking heads, statistics presented in the latest – but still dull and boring – edge of technology fashion and “recorded highlights” and endless replays and positional/possessional analysis (drone, drone, blah-blah, repeat). Sorry BBC football is a beautiful game and, as such doesn’t need all this peripheral codswallopery. Watch it, enjoy it, talk about it down the pub or write a blog – but do not over-cook it eh?

But, though I know the result my eyes snap up to watch the Chelsea v Arsenal game. I watch the most blatant bit of cheating imaginable, committed by a highly skilled, undoubtedly highly trained thug. Diego Costa (Chelsea and Spain) is pushing, pulling, slapping and clawing at an Arsenal defender (who astonishingly retains his cool under the unredeemed pressure) and, rising bullishly from the ground after a fair challenge floors the guy aggressively. Somewhat foolishly a second Arsenal defender (Gilbert) comes over to join in: quite unnecessary and ends up getting booked. The scuffle continues, mere feet away from the referee who decides to ignore it – and goes on immediately afterwards with Costa goading the defender until said defender (Gabriel) foolishly kicks back at him … at which point Costa is all offended and hurt and moans to the referee. Referee tries to ignore this development but eventually succumbs and sends the Arsenal man off. Now none of this need have gone on had Costa not instigated the whole incident. Arsenal payers – and referee were sucked into it, conned and made to look foolish. Of course and absolutely correct to say there should have been no retaliation from Gabriel: the referee could have gone on to sort it out: something he had obviously failed to do at the beginning.

I cannot help but compare this refereeing with that at Peterborough on Saturday which had a young player sent off for flinging a water bottle off the field of play. Instant dismissal, no messing!

But we play Chelsea on Wednesday and a new almost-fear rises in my head. What if Chelsea – marvellously skilful but at times mean-spirited – set about the Walsall players in this villainous fashion. No worries for them: they have an enormous squad and strength in depth of highest quality. We on the other hand are performing well with a limited squad and just a couple of injuries (the goalkeeper? Tom Bradshaw?) will tip us off the perch and doom our wonderful start season. Strange how these spectres, planted by the media and my own fixation can expand – and become absolute reality … until the actual event.

in a responsible fashion the F.A. quickly impose a three match ban on Costa: thus damning the actions of the referee and setting a noble precedent.

By the time I ring my brother on Wednesday (having missed his text) he is somewhere on the way back from Manchester for the very game I am only looking forward to my Saddlers getting off the pitch in one piece so that we can put out a decent side to take on Crewe Alexandra (strange name when you think about it) on Saturday. It is, I tell myself unhealthy: a form of imposed intimidation. The name Achilles springs to mind from mythology. If his opponents were obsessed by the image of his prowess they were already half beaten before the scraps began.

Cheered up by my brother I feel a whole lot better. Think there’ll be a parking space and … wow, this actually works and, despite heavy traffic we weave into a near perfect spot: traditional (habitual)place and walk to the stadium. The TV vans are there, and the security fencing reduces the walking space (which needs, of course to be two way) to almost-enough-room makes life interesting.

And the fantasy-luxurious Chelsea team bus (air conditioning, heated seats, tinted windows, recliners, TV, Wi-Fi … and an enormous galley at the rear complete with chef (like the Balti pies from the shop aren’t classy enough eh?).

Through the turnstiles with time to spare – which at one point seemed unlikely – and we settle down. There are some familiar faces around but these seats have been taken by club, corporate and players families. Next to us sit the young Walsall players: boisterous (why not?) and snacking on an endless supply of Haribo sweets (healthy lads?).

Team news is good news/bad news in that our main-man striker (in my opinion our only striker!) Tom Bradshaw is not playing. Bad? Could have done with his eye for goal and restless energy to keep the Chelsea back line (he can be that good!) on their toes. Good? Well, the priority is the league and better that he is fit for Saturday’s game against Crewe: harsh and not the Roy-of-the-Rovers stuff but hard decisions need to be made and he did play half-crocked at Wembley – and the less said on that appalling game the better the beer my friend … and anyway this is football and Jordan Cook might just spring his own surprises as Super-Tom’s replacement.

My stupid-fears about Chelsea coming out as assassins or monsters are absolutely groundless; they put out a reasonable team (so many internationals to choose from of course) John Terry, Gary Cahill (still playing in a mask that looks to be made by the parent of a primary school child for a super-hero themed fund raising day, Falcao among the stars they can choose from. But they properly shake hands with the Walsall squad and the game begins. And what follows is an impressive display of football the way she should be played. Smooth, skilful and purposeful. They are swift, able to switch feet, dribble, accelerate away and see passes that just aren’t there … until they, magically are.

But, though we are pressed back immediately we are no slouches either. The Chelsea team reportedly costs in the region of £220 million pounds sterling; the Saddlers squad about fifty thousand smackers. There is a gulf but we refuse to be over awed: even if it takes some time to take it all in… and by then after a bit of a rushed pass from goalkeeper to Paul Downing we are one nil down. Fast off the mark to run down the ball, a long accurate hanging cross and the ball is in the net. As good a goal as I have seen scored against us this season.

We concede another, but Milan Lalkovic has tested the Chelsea defence, but shoots wide (we have a number of shots but most are not on target, so do not really test the keeper).

Just before half time we get a free kick. Lalkovic hammers the ball – on target this time, it is clawed away by keeper Begovic, but James O’Connor is there to stick it over the line. We. Scored. Against. Chelsea!

 

They have shots cleared off the line, go three one up and we think: hey, that’s no disgrace. Think again when we concede another just before full time, but by the time I’m on my second pint it all went swimmingly well … and Chelsea were as gracious in victory as we were in defeat. Cook, a little restrained to begin with was giving both Terry and Cahill a problem or two with his physical presence (though he’s half the size of either one of them – “not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog” as boxer Barry McGuigan once said)

… and Romaine Sawyers has had an outstanding game, winning post-match plaudits and deserving them.

A Game of a Different Name.

Strange when you wake up on the final day of an escorted tour. First you’ve been able to have a lie-in. There’s nothing to do after all until it’s time to leave for the airport (in our case Reagan, Washington, D.C. en route to Birmingham (the original one in England) via Newark outside New York). So, although you wake up at 6 a.m. local time (because that’s been the routine) you can lie in bed, have a late breakfast … and just, well fill up time really … until that mind-numbing slog to the airport, the glamour of aviation fuel in the nostrils, hen air conditioned boredom and cramp, constantly thinking you might be in the wrong place at the right time (or something like that).

It’s the U.S.A.. So there are a million and one TV channels to hop. Interminably long advert breaks give plenty of incentive – if any were needed – to “see what’s on the other side”.

NFL! What the Americans call football is American football to me. A cross between wrestling, pantomime, graceful athleticism, cheerleaders and rugby. It’s over-hyped, over analysed and done to death, with statistics panels and histories of previous games, tactics, player data and chatter, chatter, chatter.

Then I am surprised to find a soccer game. On NBC. In contrast it is so simply shown. A single camera angle covering almost all of the action, brief commentary, very few replays and slow-motion analysis that dogs the NFL channels (oh and the accompanying college grade games) …

I am hit by a revelation at that point. And stunned. Truly!

The gap plugged by the ESPN and NFL channels is exactly what English media have done to the “beautiful game”! Isn’t it?

Match of the Day, internationals: talking heads, media headlines, gossip, paraphernalia and personality worship trails a-plenty. I began by thinking criticism of the American system and am quickly brought to face the lengthy analysis of Saturday evening English TV.

Now, this blog may be in danger – or indeed be wholly composed of – of continuing that over- egging of an elementally-simple, beautiful game and so I may myself need to answer charges of hypocrisy at some stage.

So, having caught fifteen minutes or so of the Arsenal v man City game earlier on in the tour I settled down to watch this one. Leicester City against Manchester United. Leicester, unsurprisingly losing 3-1 when I decide to get breakfast. It’s still on when I get back to the room. It’s the whole game, live of course, not the edited highlights.

The football from both teams is so smooth, so fast, so fluent; the ball swept majestically from end to end, from wing to wing. Defence becomes attack with no need for complicated time-outs, team switches or huddles. It is such a simple game. (Earlier from the bus we had seen what was described as “Football Frisbee” being played in one of Washington’s parks. Imagine football with a Frisbee, not a ball and you have it.) But the play is also stylish: dribbling, passing, some fine interceptions and well-timed tackles, some with that physical edge I enjoy seeing.

 “Leicester losing at this point,” the commentator intones, But they are not intimidated, moving forward with both urgency and purpose. They were in the Championship last season and have a degree of robust play that is disturbing and unsettling the Man U. players. And United’s recent-arrival manager van Gaal, has changed the team about, selling some who may well have felt themselves established United players (Danny Wellbeck, now at Arsenal is a good example) and moved in his own players.

A loose, hopeful  ball is delivered down the United right, a challenge goes in from Vardy (the City player, previously with non-League Fleetwood Town). In my opinion Vardy committed a foul on Rafael da Silva, the United full back. Such shoulder charges are rarely seen in the Premier League. But no whistle. Vardy gets into the penalty area; the United full back comes back at him with a challenge and he goes to the ground:

Penalty!

Along with the United players I am surprised: If the first offence wasn’t given why is this one? But rules is rules … and, as a spectacle the game will be better if Leicester get another goal. Plus, of course, I must confess that United are far from being my favourite team.

Goal!!

Leicester then add pressure; an equaliser comes very quickly, from Esteban Cambiasso, after some poor defending on one hand and enterprising opportunism on the other. Then it’s another penalty for the Foxes – and Utd have Tyler Blackett sent off.

The final score ?

Leicester 5 man Utd. 3

… and an impressive game to boot!

Back at home the Leicester M.P. Keith Vaz will use the score line in a speech at the Labour Party Conference in Manchester, saying, with a twinkle in his eye:

“… and anyone who can get the numbers five three into a speech will get an extra thirty minutes from the Chair.”

I press the switch on the remote control box, attach myself to the luggage and the return begins.

Having kept myself away from Saddlers results I will soon find out how they got on in the three games I missed.

Close Season …

In less than an hour Hull City kick off the season’s F.A. Cup Final against Arsenal. And, possibly playing for Hull is a former Walsall striker. Name of Matty Fryatt. Started at the Saddlers as a youngster, did well in the reserves and joined the full team to unsettle defences and goalkeepers with skilful running, positioning and finishing. Never a typical centre forward he relied on pace and thinking. Scored some great goals, then went – and who can blame him – to Leicester City. I wish him well this afternoon, but smile wryly: Matty Fryatt still playing for an unfashionable team eh?

The F.A. Cup is no longer the competition it once was. I suppose the game of football isn’t either. Sold out to politics and money. Man City have just won the Premier League and, in doing have incurred something like a fifty million pound fine for not meeting financial restrictions. But in winning the title they have made so much money – sponsorship and European cash – they can smile and pay up.

The F.A. ?

The Ladies F.A. Cup final is also coming up. The ladies game is going from strength to strength. But the final will not be played at Wembley, but rather at Milton Keynes. This is both a shame and a missed opportunity.

Meanwhile the England Ladies team won their last match, played at Shrewsbury Town’s ground just up the road. The game was televised. Against Ukraine. The England team are looking to qualify for the World Cup Finals, to be played on artificial pitches in Canada in 2019.England are on a fantastically good  run and, after a patient start ran out four-nil winners. Some skilful play, some grit and a great performance from Eniola Aluko. If my maths is correct that’s thirty three goals and six clean sheets – bostin’!

Speaking of Ukraine: the unrest continues there, and its hard to know which side is in the right, indeed, which side is legitimate. There have been some kind of hastily arranged referendum/voting in another city there today (Donetsk, I believe) set up by what are being called on our media “Russian separatists”. I have seen TV footage of people voting in “polling stations that are manned by locals with guns. Cannot be a legitimate process surely? But , above and beyond such pedantic wordery, I simply cannot get past this sense of despair over the ordinary people who, without doubt, are the ones who least deserve to be in a position of such tension.

The Commonwealth Games torch is passing around the world on its way to Glasgow: it was on the Isle of Man yesterday.

And Roy Hodgson has picked the England squad to go to Brazil for the World Cup. I am hoping that England do well. First game against Italy is a stinger: I have friends in Italy (hope we will still be friends after the game). But ask me who is in the team and I have to say I am really not that interested – maybe later I will be more enthusiastic. Watch this space perhaps?

And Walsall have released a list of players they will be releasing during the close-season. I have never known this to be the case before. Last year we were caught offering deals to people until the last moment, when they disappeared to other teams and left us struggling without a strike force.

Craig Westcarr, quoted in the Express and Star as wondering why he hadn’t been offered a deal yet – our leading scorer, sardonically named “Mr Football” by yours truly was our leading scorer – is released.

Brave move?

I can’t help but admire it on one hand, while hoping it gives the management time – and cash – to go out and get somebody in to do the sharp-end job. The other hand meanwhile is desperately trying to take over the typing and write “bird in the hand” and the “devil you know” type phrases.

Hold that thought. Apparently the managers have been scouting the lower leagues of Spanish football … and are hinted that there may be deals and bargains to be made and had.

Off to see if Fryatt gets a look in … don’t suppose he’s available next season?

Image: Young Matty Fryatt; http://www.saddlers.co.uk

Aluko: bbc.co.uk