Villa for Sale or Rent: Swindon at Home

Don’t doubt this club’s commitment – and plain common sense – to putting everything (well almost!) behind this marvellous push for promotion. Something I would often write, more in jest (or false optimism; which is the same thing surely?) than in hope:

“Promotion in our time…” is a looming reality. We just have to match whatever Burton Albion do, or better – oh and win our game in hand.

But commitment? No sooner had the ink dried on the pages of the Express and Star than the club announced a “Friend for a Fiver” game. Any season ticket holder could use up the E voucher in their season ticket and get a ticket for the said fiver to Tuesday evening’s home game against mid-table Swindon. Mid-table? No problem for the mighty Saddlers surely? And then there’s the cunning but well intentioned rabble-rousing (except we aren’t rabble are we?) from man-in-charge Jon Witney, in the press. Disguised as a too-early team news release he praises the Walsall crowd(who cheered –almost to a man, woman, child and dog)the team on to the win on Saturday.

Witney’s message is that “since you were so good on Saturday I pick you for the next game.”

Clever, shrewd, empowering – and meant to bring a few extras in to the game.

Incidentally we are consistently one of the last teams to announce, publicly, the starting line-up for any game. This from my social media vulture and sometime soul mate Jack. He who agonises every game day because the team hasn’t been announced (on Twitter or wherever) and then rages because it has and it doesn’t quite match …

But, news from elsewhere in the local football world. A few minutes up the M6 Aston Villa have – finally – been relegated. Losing to Manchester United was the final nail in their Premier League coffin. They have been imploding quietly for some time. But now?

Two directors resigned from the recently appointed football committee (there’s stickability for you then!) and the board have apparently decided to close down the Upper Tier of the Trinity Road stand, five hundred people employed there will, it is said need to lose their jobs …

So, just maybe some of the beetroot and blue-scarved ones’ll give up the ghost and convert to Saddlerism. Frankly I don’t care who comes to the Bescot at the moment as long as they don’t cause trouble, give us some positive vibe and pay some filthy lucre into the war chest.

But, I still owe my brother for the Port Vale ticket he got me so, after quick phone call, set out on Monday to snaffle the five pound ticket. Not expecting a queue: well you don’t do you? And, sure enough there was a bit of a queue – at least ten buyers ahead of me. The guy in front had a bag under his arm as if he had packed for a day waiting. Turned out he has diabetes and that was his bloods kit, insulin et cetera – just in case. We got to chatting; West Brom (that fabulous Paul Merson goal), Follows park ( the memorable low- level gents toilet with no roof (no really!)) and, eventually – how on earth could we possibly get out of , er … going up this season. Both of us, obviously veteran Walsall junkies. Experienced in all kinds of avoidance strategies: losing a cup game, not quite getting relegated for example. Pulling irons out fires; then sinking a beer or two.

Big, frustrating queues on the way home on Tuesday and I’d had hardly a drink all day. So dehydrated, but expectant. Strong coffee at bro’s house, the sun beating into our eyeballs on the way to the game. I’ll probably remember that I need sunglasses and do something about it around about September!

Parked up. Into the Savoy Lounge. Meting up with Cully, Andy, matt and Mike. The aforementioned social media furious one at home ill and suffering. None of us think that’ll prevent him getting the up-dates on Twitter.

 

A pint of cool lager and, body fluids reaching some kind of equilibrium we take our seats. Yessss! The crowd is definitely up for it: loud, proud and, as usual could do with a few more bodies. But don’t doubt the spirit please>

Nor the players. Brave decision by the coaches to put main man (in theyes of many) Tom Bradshaw on the bench and start the team that eventually stopped Southend. And they are forward going. Hiwula looking really fresh and full of running. Lalkovic and Henry still seeming a little disjointed on the left but Demetriou and Forde doing well down the right.

But Swindon are not cowed. Indeed they seem to be finding spaces and getting through to have some, admittedly feeble or ill-directed, shots. Walsall, on the other hand are impatient – in a good way. Getting somewhere near and letting one go! Bomb! Bomb! Boom! Quite different from our usual pedantic don’t shoot until you can pass into the net kind of style. It’s impressive but, sadly no more effective. At half time we are nil – nil. Still not losing –and I am looking for any positives.

Arch rivals Burton are at home to league One leaders Wigan this evening. We are quietly hoping that Wigan do a job on ‘em, wreck their confidence and steal all three points. Yes, all right our destiny is in our own hands, but a little Wigan intervention wouldn’t go amiss would it?

 

Despite the weather forecast of closer-later it is still rather warm. There is talk of telegraph poles, Lawrence of Arabia, families, trying to plan a weekend away – but not knowing the fixtures – only four games left (barring play offs of course) and work.

Second half kicks off. Impetus with us; Swindon breaking skilfully now and then. I am suddenly, instinctively tense: they are breaking through the middle, having a shot. It is deflected away. But only to a running-on midfielder, Michael Doughty, who coolly slots the ball home.

How many times has this happened?

But, then again, how many times have we broken back – and made it all right?

There are substitutions. Demetriou, suffering after a knock, off and Liam Kinsella on. Lalkovic and Forde off: Bradshaw and Kieron Morris on. He’s only been on the pitch a couple of minutes, young Kieron when he picks up the ball, drops a shoulder, runs into the penalty area and swings a good boot through the ball – and we are in it again. But that is as good as it will get. Rumours around are that Burton have also come back from one nil down – another game that will end up as a draw: curses!

Needless to say, there’s a group of us heading up to Bradford on Saturday!

Fire Regs at the Beech Hotel: Burton Albion Away.

“Fire Regs” at the Beeches: Burton Albion Away.

I read in the local paper that we have made another loan signing (though last midfield “box-to-box” loanee from Middlesbrough has yet to fire a shot in anger).

A striker! It has to be a striker doesn’t it? We need somebody to help take the pressure off hard-running Tom Bradshaw, win balls for him to run on to, so that he can use his devastating close ball control to engineer more goals and ease us into the final stretch of the season and a winning run …

So, surely be Gad (as my maternal grandfather would have said) I will read on to find we have snapped up a forward; for me, preferably a target man type, but any flavour will do. Surely … ?

No, reading on, and I guess it’s no real surprise that we’ve hooked up another “versatile” midfielder. Admittedly from Premier League Bournemouth (could never have imagined I’d be typing those words in the same sentence) … but, still …

On Thursday night we were at The Garrick Theatre, lovely little local theatre watching A Murder is Announced by Agatha Christie. A typical whodunit featuring the nimble-minded Miss Marple. It’s a story I don’t know but manage to predict the eventual ending( all the while sitting next to a tight-lipped saddlers Widow who remembers the plot from a TV adaptation).

Good to be at the theatre: live entertainment and nights getting both lighter and, dare I say it? Warmer?

But we need two cars to get to the game at Burton on Saturday. Having a good season means that there is now a regular brood of six from Rugeley: and that means an extra car.

Home to one of the biggest breweries in Europe (once upon a time it was Bass, founded in Victorian times, taken over by Banks’ now operated by U.S. giants Coors) Burton is about seventeen easy miles from my house. I worked there once upon a time and have some magical memories of people and events there. (Burton also houses other breweries and a fine micro-brewery at The Bridge.) No surprise that the team is nicknamed the Brewers, with Billy Brewer being the mascot.

 

I offer to do the driving and, after having a quick chat with visiting-home daughter Bec and Scott I top up with petrol and am just a few minutes late. I like to be organised: decide we will park at the official Burton Car park, but as we turn off the A38 get the message that there is a perfect parking spot opposite the Beeches pub and slide gently backwards into the said space.

The Beech Hotel (pub) is the “traditional away fans pub”. At 12.30 the car park is already full, the bar heaving, choruses of Goin’ Down the Wednesbury Road” floating up to blue skies and a ruck of police officers and security men around.

There is also “Little joe’s Burger Van”; with only on family queueing (it is quite early but I warn the woman who serves me that Saddlers’ fans love a burger). I am the only one eating: simple burger and chips and a pint of lager shandy.

Then, giving up one of the only three silver chairs at the only table I join the others to neck my shandy. And it is getting noticeably colder; or is that just the shandy? This provokes some discussion about the relative merits of leather gloves. I can only listen because I have left my own Thinsulate gloves in my other coat.

Jack and Chris decide there’s time for another round (there’s plenty of time as it turns out) but return, laughing about the fact that when Chris steps out of the bouncer- guarded door he is told he cannot go back in as there is a strict “one out-one –in” policy. He tries to tell the guy that he has just come out (the one out) but needs to go back in, to be told:

“Fire regs mate!”

There are times when it just isn’t worth the words …

Meanwhile, we wonder whether these two security guys actually realise that there is a whole separate entrance off the “beer garden” and that people are nipping both in and out of it willy-nilly.

Drinks duly drained we set off to walk the half mile or so to the Pirelli Stadium. This is a different approach: I know the one side of the ground reasonably well as a “conference venue” having attended umpteen meetings there back in the day. But never on a match day and never on a day when the Brewers are actually looking reasonably odds-on for a second consecutive promotion.

Today playing against another, very local and potential promotion candidate in the Saddlers.

And the ground is rammed.

I had been a little angry (unreasonably so) earlier in the run up because of wat I considered a grudgingly small allocation of tickets for away fans: there are reportedly one thousand eight hundred of us crammed into approximately a third of the ground. It is tine: neat, cantilevered stands, but still incredibly small. And we are sardined together: a throwback to the nineteen seventies games in a way: in the standing only section behind the goals. I have a reasonably good position in front of a crash barrier, but my legs are feeling the treadmill running I was doing last night at the gym. But, hey all those bodies crammed in make it warm.

And we are so noisy!

The P.A system is poor: indistinct and the mighty Queen song is reduced to mediocrity, sounding like a poorly practised cover band on a bad night.

Our manager Sean O’Driscoll has been trying, it seems, to play this game down in the media: but nobody here is taken in: we need to win and we want to win. I have my own, tribal instinct reasons to want to come out on top, but this is football.

Burton are managed by Nigel Clough: they are bound, because of this to be a physically tough team and also be fit. I fear it is a game we will do well to get out of with even a single point and everyone uninjured.

 

What would I know?

First off: the team news is good: we have reliable O’Connor back in the centre of the defence. He is combative but experienced and has a wonderful never-say-die attitude. Young Matt Preston has had a good couple of games while O’Connor was out injured, but this is a game that needs a level of maturity. Paul Downing will no doubt be calmer too. Andy Taylor is still at left back. Hmmm, what is going on with the super-talented Rico Henry (he is on the bench meanwhile)?

Before the kick off we actually see our new loanee, just dabbling at the side of the pitch; a few simple exercises. He is soon out of breath. Does he have the fitness we need? There is also Mick Kearns down there, talking with someone, perhaps for the on-line commentary?

By kick off the stand is so crammed I cannot raise my hands in front of me. It feels so confined: low roof, short distance to the pitch side wall. A real throwback to the earlier days of my football watching days. Except we are standing on well-made concrete steps not an ash bank or hard packed earth, and there are no holes in the stand walls for the wind to whistle through and there are no holes in the roofing for rain to find and drip drip drip down my neck. In fact at some grounds there just was no roof for away fans. The good old days?

And this is a sell-out crowd! A top-of-the-table clash local derby!

Walsall are up and at it straight away. Taylor and Lalkovic trying a few things down the left. That don’t somehow come off.

 

And we look good!

Indeed we look good for the whole game, but this left wing thing just is never going to work today. The team, however is up for it. Forde, in particular has been quite outstanding in recent games; more sensible, adopting a wider vision and making some killer runs. Bradshaw is having a busy time; nothing new there then. But he keeps on going. There seems to be something going on: Bradshaw knocking the ball back (under some hefty challenges ) to Sawyers. Sawyers making something happen, bringing in Forde or Demetriou, or Mantom. We also try some hopeful long balls, but these big defenders eat them up. But we are fast, winning some loose ball challenges and looking god. But we have to make this dominance pay. Get a goal! Get a second. We can pass, pass, pass, run, pass back all day but what we need is goals and, try as we might we cannot get a goal.

Half time and nobody is moving. We need to keep our spaces and wriggling out, getting coffee or having a pee, just looks like too much work. Then I get the nutter. He comes from somewhere, pushing and shoving his jelly-boned way through the masses. Ducks under the crash barrier and puts himself in the space. All of the second half he is gibbering, loudly on. And On. And on. What he is saying makes little or no sense; criticising players who are having a good game, moaning about O’Driscoll. Football grounds are not always places to have an in-depth discussion with strangers and there is just no arguing with some people. And arguing with an idiot just proves there are two idiots so … I keep my peace, smile grimly and watch the game.

Walsall kicking towards us in the second half. Still bossing the game. Still not scoring. Still getting knocked about. Little protection from the referee.

There is no scoreboard at the Pirelli Stadium to let me know how long is left to play and it is full time before I realise it.

I am not disappointed, strangely. Pleased that we didn’t lose in the last minute (like last week) but this was a game that, surprisingly would have been so easy to win. We still need that striker … if anybody is listening.

It is simple, simple to slide the car out of the parking space, across the traffic, onto the generous A 38 and I have delivered my passengers to Rugeley and am at home in little longer than it takes to get back from a home game. Wigan ,still heads-down and charging win, taking them beyond our reach (at the moment) to second, but in the way that will happen (us being Walsall) to keep us o tenterhooks, other results go in our favour. We could have done with the win, but we hang on to fourth place (and still have a game in hand on second and third placed teams.

“First, second or seventh!” was the cry in he car on the way to Burton. Me? I’m thinking that if we need to get into the Championship via the play-offs, I’ll take it!

Up The Saddlers!

Beware of Offers: Burton Albion at Home

Friday Night: 9^th October, 2015

At home

So, this weekend sees another international break … and another enterprising bid by the Saddlers to grab a few more fans (at least for one home game, if not – having been so impressed by what these “first timers/floating fans” have seen on their day – for games for the rest of the season. Reasoning is thus (I guess) local football fans will have their fill of (let’s call it) top level games on TV (England v Estonia on Friday evening for example … and, oh Lithuania versus England on Monday evening) and might just fancy s alive game squeezed in on the usual Saturday. Hence the offer:

Season ticket holders (such as I) can take a “friend for a fiver”. Actually, with the start to the season we are having – and Saturday’s home game pitting – unexpectedly perhaps the top two side in the league against each other (come on: really who would have thought newly promoted Burton Albion would be top, much less that Walsall would have been second by this stage?) Needless to say my brother will benefit from the offer: no problem (except that he’s not a “new” supporter at all) but …

Results in games where these offers have been made are not – generally good for us. And performances at these games, coincidentally I am sure, are poor so far …

… and we will be short of two of the players that are making us so difficult to play against: ironically both are away on international duty. Neil Etheridge is quickly establishing himself as an all action hero: energetic, acrobatic commanding, busy and ever-so-slightly kamikaze at times. He will be getting his forty sixth Phillipino cap while away. Demetriou looks far more at home going forward from right back position than defending at times, but he covers the ground, marks well and gets his body in the way when needed: he has a game for Cyprus to participate in.

In will come, I suppose Craig McGillivray as ‘keeper. Hope he can handle this game. He will undoubtedly develop as a keeper, but needs to build a better understanding with the defence as his style is far more static than Etheridge’s. Communication will be key here.

Talking of offers: apparently Rotherham, having sacked their manager Steve Adams made approaches for both Jimmy Floyd Haisselbaink (burton manager and Dean Smith this past week. Papers and club web-site are saying Smith is too important to let go. Maybe … but er, for how long … and, with his contract up at the end of the season, where do we stand? This could be about how much the board are prepared to pay to keep him. And, though I have had my doubts about his style – should I now adjust that to read “styles” in the light of what we are seeing this time round? – he is proving remarkably successful on an extremely low budget. Rotherham, being in the Championship might have the extra spending power … or what if one of the Premiership clubs comes a-knocking? Money no obstacle?

Brendan Rogers just couldn’t make the grade at Liverpool: sacked already and Dick Advokaat resigned from Sunderland … Tim Sherwood, failing visibly at Aston Villa must be quaking in his boots at the moment. Hey, Villa people keep your thoughts and paws off the Ginger Mourinho.

Last night Northern Ireland qualified for the European Championship finals in France next year with a stirring 3 – 1 win against Greece. Good luck to them and congratulations too.

Tonight I dutifully watched England – looking radiant and a class apart, beat Estonia by two goals to nil at Wembley (still with traces of the American Football markings visible on the field of play (really? No way to wipe these out?) One nil up against an outclassed but determined, well organised side but not inspiring, allowing me to switch to Gardener’s World for half an hour and switch back in time to see Leicester’s Jamie Vardy slip an unselfish pass across for Raheem Stirling to knock in the second (class vision from the just-on substitute).The win puts England into the seeded teams, so we should miss the seriously big teams in the competition in the group games (France, Germany and Italy for example).

Sunday morning, home, 11^th October, 2015

Picked my brother up to go to the game. Cars everywhere, lucky to be able to jam the Vauxhall into a little spot and take the traditional walk. Long queues, even at the collection window so, like any true Walsall fan would I deserted my brother to the queue and went in. His s eat wasn’t necessarily going to be by mine any way …

Good crowd inside, some Bluenoses (Birmingham City fans) in the seats next to ours who proved to be good company (here because of the “international break I guess). Good, noisy contingent from Burton. Game pitting the two top teams against each other with no Championship games must feature heavily in tonight’s Channel Five football programme so masses of TV cameras and OB wagons.

And, from the kick off three things became apparent.

First – and so proud to be able to type this: we were superior and full of pace, passes and width.

Two: Burton are a team who seek to gain any advantage and do not draw the line at cheating, only exacerbated by

… three: one of the worst referees I have ever seen in charge of a professional football game.

The game was always going to be keenly contested. Top of the table clash, why not? We have the best defensive record in all of the top national leagues so far: we have, in fact only conceded six goals in our league! Burton also have not had many put past them. But, above and beyond the simple “man up and play” physical challenges that both teams took on, their players fell over unnecessarily, feigned injury, protested decisions and generally tried to upset the pace and switching of passes (Rico Henry and Liam Kinsella being brilliant runners at the Brewers defence on each wing).

… and the referee fell for far too many of these pantomime tricks too many times.

But it wasn’t enough! Romaine sawyers –once again playing his game-changing passes with sweet touches and marvellous vision made space for our players going forwards. Tom Bradshaw playing his usual strong game up front, drew defenders, creating space and pockets of room for the likes of Kinsella to race into, play a one-two and get a centre in. Usually from the goal line. And we hold the midfield; Reece Flanagan, Chambers and Sam Mantom mastering the flow, the tackles and interceptions and pushing the ball forwards. It is, frankly impressive. Especially when Sawyers and Mantom got the ball to Liam Kinsella, racing into the box to slot a shot into the far side of the net. The possession dominance showed – at last.

… and, if only briefly we are top of the league!

Second half saw more poor refereeing decisions (I am, I hope careful not to criticise referees often: it is one hell of a thankless job and poor decisions will, inevitably be made – it is what makes football what it is of course –)  but this guy ???

He had penalised Rico Henry in the first half and booked him, when there was no genuine offence and the challenges carrying Chambers through three red-blooded tackles were far more deserving of the whistle (and perhaps a card). But in addition to poor decision making the ref was guilty of wasting time – oh so much – talking to offending players: not just once but time after time. Why not just one warning then next time it’s a card?

Brewers proudly came at us in the second half. Good now at coming forwards they threw three men up front. We were a little sloppy at this stage, couldn’t get the ball back and keep it. No pressure from players to make the follow up challenge that would secure the ball and launch a counter attack. Partly because of the Burton players skills no doubt – and they proved skilful, just adept at cheating along with it.

The clock ticking down we began to edge into the play again. Sawyers, still cool, Bradshaw still mobile and Cook coming on, running and harrying. Sam Mantom put through had a perfect opportunity to nail a goal, but er, hey Sam, get some shooting practice in eh – a touch too many and the shot was blocked.

Never mind, Burton were also wasting golden opportunities: at least two.

Then Sawyers flicked an apparently casual ball (he is rarely casual this season!) and got a penalty.

Burton players did their level (and beyond) best to stretch out the time before the kick was taken in the hopes of putting Super Tom off his game. But he just stood there while the childish behaviour was going on , hands on hips, looking at the ground – then stepped up and blasted us into the top spot in the league.

Great game – in which I became outraged, involved and had the sweet satisfaction of seeing my team dig in. play skilfully and beat a dishonest side. And a real advertisement for the high levels of talent, commitment and emotion that goes in this lower league. Next game is at home (Chesterfield) so there is a really good chance some of the “new” fans will be back to see if it happens again.

Top of the league (on goal difference only) but a magical afternoon … and even having my car boxed in couldn’t wipe the smile off my happy little face.

A tale of Two Pitches: Away games at Scunthorpe and Wigan

Home

Tuesday,

I get into the car: warm evening, I’m driving back from Tamworth – quick meal and then off to the theatre to see The Lindisfarne (folk rock group not the island) Story. Radio on. BBC WM. Paul Franks is interviewing a comedian. The Comic Copper: Alfie Moore. There’s a story he tells (his show is named after it in fact: The Naked Stun) about how, when he was a bona fide policeman he received a call to “proceed to Such and Such Road in or near Scunthorpe to apprehend a naked man (“in a shower cap and flip flops) who was running along making rude gestures to dog walkers … a fuller description to follow.”

The conversation was amusing, delightful little details and throw away lines and I was hooked, but mostly by the coincidence that here was a Scunthorpe based story … and Walsall played there last night.

Played and won. Rico Henry, nominally a defender but raiding on this occasion inside the Irons penalty area, scoring a goal within the opening thirty minutes and resolute, even dogged defending to protect the win. Scunthorpe languishing somewhere at the foot of the table and the “paper talk about set-piece practices and shooting” may well have been on the nail. Not easy to go to places like Scunthorpe where occasionally near naked runners flick disgraceful signs at innocents out for a walk with their pets and sneak a win: so all credit to the Saddlers.

Dean Smith’s two hundred and fiftieth game as manager. And, during that time we have seen some remarkable changes (in personnel, fortunes and styles of play). This season after a blistering, nose bleed start we are in a positive frame, have a reasonable squad, consistency and … points (currently second in the league).

But – and isn’t there always one of those if you are a Saddlers fan we will be losing Philippine goalie Neil Etheridge and Cyprus defender Jason Demetriou for the home game against top of the table Burton Albion in a couple of weeks’ time.

Before that we have Wigan away on Saturday: that’ll be Will Grigg perhaps and last season’s goalie O’Donnell alongside a very expensive squad under appointed-at-the-end-of-last-season rookie manager Paul Cardwell.

Never mind: the Lindisfarne Story was gently done, thehighs (hadn’t realised at the time this band actually had so many highs!0 and lows of being in a North East of England Folk/folk rock band, told with humour, with generosity and fine renditions of songs like Fog on the Tyne (including theone with Paul “Gazza” Gascoine –“funny how musicians think they can play football and footballers think they can sing” -), Meet Me on the Corner and All Fall Down. A shame for the performers that the crowd was a little thin, but like the troopers they have been and are Ray Laidlaw and Billy Mitchell smiled and reminisced wonderfully. The first band incidentally that Saddlers’ widow went to see was Lindisfarne … and a tape of their songs often accompanied excursions to away grounds in days gone by.

Home

Sunday, 4^th October, 2015

Seems strange to wake up on a Saturday with no arrangements made to go “to the football” but of course there are other things demanding my attention: the battery in the fire alarm downstairs needs changing, the allotment needs digging and the garden shed needs the re-cladding getting on with. A much bigger job than first appeared – often the way if you live inside this skin.

We were at The Garrick Theatre in Lichfield again last night, this time for a one-man show by Adam Henson: a regular Countryfile presenter on BBC TV. He bumbled innocently about at the beginning asking the audience to remember he was “only a two bit farmer” as he got used to the slide show controls and how to project his voice. The man is enthusiastic and knowledgeable and could talk for England (or Wales, being part Welsh).

So a morning digging, visit my mother, then settle down to break, measure, saw, drill and hammer (blood blisters are so fashionable aren’t they?) in the back garden.

Did I mention we are having some unseasonably warm weather which is perfect for all I am doing today … which includes taking a radio outside to listen in on the football up-dates.

Wigan Athletic: still on a massive parachute payment from their time in the Premiership (two years ago), relegated from the Championship last year: massive stadium and big money. Not expected to stay in this league beyond this season, but for some reason not off to a good start (and start is all this is I remind myself). We are having a marvellous start; superbly entertaining to watch, individual and team efforts, purposeful and fit (so far, so good, but let’s not tempt Providence eh?)

 

As usual we are a low priority for local BBC West Midlands, but the reports coming back are promising (to be fair as soon as “Wigan nil …” comes on I am delighted). Player of the Season Richard O’Donnell who left us for Wigan at the end of last season has not been picked; Jussie Jaskaleinen is given a game instead. Good or bad? Only time will tell. But Walsall are under the cosh from the kick off, that much is clear. But by half time the garage sized shed I am nailing ship-lap timbers to at a rate that would make saints lose patience has not toppled over and we are still holding our own. There is a buzz of excitement after about seventy minutes when one of the Wigan defenders gets a staright red card for fouling Kieron Morris: can we add just enough to steal a win? Will Grigg, who came to fame as a Walsall forward is taken off … but we just cannot make it count. We stay disciplined, don’t give anything away and are second in the table (again) on goal difference by the end of the day. That would have been a big test and a draw at one of the fancied automatic promotion candidate’s ground is a real result.

  

 

Now looking forward to Burton Albion next Saturday. Should be a good crowd; they’re only just down the road and off to a flying start.

Not so the England Rugby team. After watching Doctor Who (to be continued next week) I switched to the game against Australia. Needing to win, England were never in the lead and were humbled by a typically powerful/ untypically modest Australian side. Bad news: we still have all the games to be shown on TV. Something I rarely see the point of, me being a one-eyed Saddlers supporter; generally if my team ain’t in it I ain’t interested.

 

 

 

 

 

Inspired? Chesterfield Away.

Undoubtedly the biggest news story of the week has been the crash – and subsequent findings – of a Germanwings passenger (an Airbus 320) plane en route from Barcelona to Dusseldorf. All on board were almost immediately reported as killed when the plane crashed into the French Alps. Subsequent investigations seem to show that the co-pilot, alone on the flight deck deliberately crashed the aeroplane. So many relatives and friends already upset are, naturally finding this news hard to take. Airlines are, also properly, changing the rules about the number of crew required in the cockpit at anytime.

I feel for all of those who have lost loved ones, including the parents of the co-pilot.

And so: past the spring equinox and tree blossom is everywhere, rooks nesting and robins nest building in our back garden.

Steve Gerrard, playing in his last season for Liverpool (after an illustrious and magnificent career) came on as substitute in a key match against Manchester United (high rivalries in such games) and after committing a horrible foul was properly sent off after less than a minute. Gerrard has been a key figure for both Liverpool and England, a combative midfielder with emotion, heart, vision, pride, energy, a strong tackle and a powerful shot shouldered the responsibility and manfully apologised to his team mates who lost the game 2 -1. He was, perhaps trying to set an example to his colleagues who had been cowed by the physicality of the United challenges. Hyped up, perhaps frustrated, he wanted to get stuck in. But his tackle was dangerous. He was man enough to do the right thing. I give him credit for this.

Similarly, our on-loan Michael Cain, much younger and less experienced tweeted his disappointment at not playing at Wembley on Sunday (now a fading memory for me) apologised to the team, apparently for his “unprofessional” outburst. Again, credit to the player. It should not be about what happens but how it is dealt with.

While appreciating that we were beaten by a better – and better prepared – team I remain disappointed by the poor Saddlers  performance at Wembley but have renewed my season ticket. The black T shirt I ordered well before the JPT final ironically arrived on the Tuesday following the game there.

Emblazoned with the slogan

“Walsall Football Club is for Life, not Just For Wembley” it is a statement of intent, purpose. We made some money, had a fine experience and … our next game, against Chesterfield, less than two hours away is  beckoning. Anybody else fancy the trip?

Apparently not … until I get a call from Andy and we arrange the trip between us.

I’m fairly certain that, between us and the “Football Traffic” road signs we’ll be able to find the ground, but check it out anyway. The Chesterfield web-site has details of “what to see” In Chesterfield and the legendary “crooked spire” features prominently. St Mary and All Saints church dominates the Chesterfield skyline which dates back to the 14th century, and is most known for its twisted spire, an architectural phenomenon.

Added to the 14th century tower in about 1362 it is both twisted (45 degrees) and leaning and leaning 9 feet 6 inches (2.90 m) from its true centre. The leaning characteristic was initially suspected to be the result of the absence of skilled craftsmen (the Black Death had been gone only twelve years prior to the spire’s completion), insufficient cross-bracing, and the use of unseasoned timber. It is now believed that the twisting of the spire was caused by the lead that covers the spire. The lead causes this twisting phenomenon, because when the sun shines during the day the south side of the tower heats up, causing the lead there to expand at a greater rate than that of the north side of the tower, resulting in unequal expansion and contraction.

It is this that gives the football club the nickname of “the Spireites”.

When I get to Andy’s, lo and behold if his brother isn’t there too and, happily we set off together; inevitably comparing Wembley experiences and thoughts. But, we all agree there is only one focus now: the next game and not getting involved in a dull end-of-season battle to avoid relegation.

Chesterfield is yet another second chance and although Romaine Sawyers is out on international duty (St Nevis and St Kitts) we are expecting some steel in the performance.

Parking on a supermarket car park within spitting distance of the ground we pop into a local pub for a beer. It is a seriously old-fashioned pub but, despite the two huge “security me” atop the steps that lead into the bar it is friendly and crowded. This pub might well have been dying on its feet – then what a godsend: the new football ground is built opposite!

Proact Stadium looks good from the outside, aspirational glass fronted (giving me the impression of an aquarium!) and optimistic . But away supporters have to buy tickets from a plastic kiosk around the corner and, although there is something of a dated “space age” look to the inside the corners are open, and seating is limited. The ground looks full with the six thousand spectators that pack in. Good support from Walsall fans, who, let’s face it have had an expensive week.

Tom Bradshaw is out with the hamstring, Baxendale preferred to Cain or Grimes in mid field and Downing replaced by O’Connor.

We notice that the formation seems to have two strikers: Hiwula and Cook. An interesting change, we decide, but Cook is not a natural in this role and soon is dropping back. At right back Purkiss looks overmatched. Baxendale can’t get any runs going, Sam Mantom is locked out for most of the first half and we fail to get a shot on target. Chesterfield, while not bossing it, are capable of pushing us back into our own half and making us defend, sometimes quite desperately. And they use their wingers well, with some accurate long passing going on. There are a string of decisions from the referee that are inexplicable, including one, where, as he questions the assistant referee, he seems to be making the excuse that the sun is in his eyes, so he didn’t see. At least poor.

  

But the two Chambers brothers, James and Adam are valiantly rushing about and O’Connor is busy and competent. We are trying, as usual, it seems to soak up pressure and hit on the counter attack. With a fully fit Tom Bradshaw we can be deadly at this tactic. He has “beefed up”, works tirelessly and puts pressure on the whole backline. He also has speed and the ability to hold the ball. Hiwula is a fine player, but not, sorry, in the same league. So we struggle.

In the second half we continue to struggle. Yes, there is determination there, but gaps appear in our midfield and the defence is stretched. We concede corner after corner and free kick after free kick. A flurry of substitutions: on 61 minutes Baxendale and Forde are replaced by Benning (able to find space and get in some of his characteristic guided-missile runs (with fluffed shots at the end of them!) and Cain. On eighty one minutes Reece Flanagan replaces Adam Chambers.

This creates confusion; Benning and Flanagan seem unsure who and where to mark when defending set pieces and  on eighty six minutes and Chesterfield go ahead with a Sam Hird header.

Smart phones out on the way back. We are now one point clear of the relegation zone and have eight games left until the end of the season. I daresay there will be reassuring noises from Dean Smith, but this is definitely not the end of the season I was expecting.

Two very local clubs (Shrewsbury and Burton Albion) are currently leading League Two. Theses would be great teams to play against next season … but we have to keep our League One place. It’s true that there is time and we have the “togetherness factor”, just as it is true we could mathematically qualify in a play-off place, but recent performances have not been inspiring. I cannot remember the time we set about a game and forcefully pinned a team back in their own half, harrying them into mistakes (the way Chesterfield did to us today).

Our next home game is on Good Friday, but I have a wedding to go to. By the time the couple are married things should be clearer.

Seats and Elections; England Under 19s at Bescot.

So the League One season has finished, the promotion play offs are spinning themselves out destinies and luck dancing together as is usual with football.

But, hold hard, there are the under-19 Elite games going on, some at Walsall, some at Burton Albion. And, having a season ticket entitles me to free entry to the games at Walsall. I rang up just to make sure. No problem, says the guy on the other end of the ‘phone; turn up, flash your season ticket and pick up your entry ticket. No need to pre-book. Simple as that.

So a job not to be fitted in as I go on a Friday catch-up circuit, deliver money to Burntwood, get a printer cartridge, fill in a form drive off to deliver it, do the shopping.

Saturday morning. England playing Montenegro. Me and my brother going. I pick him up, plenty of time. We aren’t expecting many people, but just maybe the F.A will have swamped local schools with offers. It’s half term next week and maybe parents will be thinking “well it’s Saturday, no regular football, but …” and go along and support our youngsters. They are in with a chance of qualifying for the European championships this year in Hungary – and possibly the Under 20s World Cup next year (played in New Zealand I think).

Getting the ticket is not so easy. I am surprised. The Walsall box office team have match day down to a T – usually. All of the tickets in the main stand are “sold out” I am told: I should have picked up the ticket earlier, or pre-ordered one. Refer to paragraph one if necessary. I explain this but – of course it does no good. If it is sold out I cannot be given access to a seat that someone else has been given already. I am disappointed.

Still, we are behind the goals. Lower tier. But far enough back as to be sheltered from the capricious rain that is about at the moment. “Sit where you lie,” a steward tells us … Really ? I think, I’d like to sit over in that stand. But I keep quiet and smile to myself.

National anthems … and, although I’ve been to Montenegro I cannot remember the capital city. Smart phone tells us it is Podgorica and I recall the long taxi drive to Kolasin from Dubrovnik, the wonderful hospitality of the local people, some good walking  and the katun style of farming.

“God save our gracious …” I look across at the stand that is “sold out”. Mostly empty! I was disappointed, now I am somewhat angry. Corporate seating, I am thinking. Offers of seats to people who cannot be bothered to turn up. It is a real shame. I am composing a letter to the F.A when the whistle goes for kick off.

Lots of good approach play from the England team, sometimes over-elaborate passing and several times when a first time or early shot seemed to be on that are wasted. Both teams seem to be equal. Surprising. How many under 19s are there in Montenegro? Indeed, how many under 19s are there in Montenegro that are actual Montenegrans? Believe me it’s not the same question: the smart phone factoids said that only 44% of the population of the country are Montenegrans. … and how many under 19s in England?

Call it pride, but I am thinking we should be all over this team. We are not. The atmosphere is strange too. No chanting, though there are some supporters in the distance with what looks like a Montenegro flag. Good to see.

Then with about half an hour gone our number 7 runs away, sets himself up and has a shot – deflected into the net.

Half time and we look at the programme. It’s efficient. They’ve printed a single issue that covers all the games in the group (England, Montenegro, Scotland and the Ukraine). Filled with decent information, but sadly lacking a team list with squad numbers. Number 7 is Jordan Ibe (Liverpool) it turns out. There’s a short bit from Greg Dyke and an even shorter bit about his suggestions for increasing the number of native born English players in the Premier League. One of them is to set up a separate league that has B teams from Premiership teams in it. I’ve heard this before as a suggestion from – oh yes, the Premier league.  Not really happy with it, but I have chickened out of reading the full report. There’s not much more than a sentence about it in this programme either. I am sure there must be other ways to make sure English players get experience. Stan Collymore, one-time Villa and England striker suggested more regional centres of excellence. The loan system in place is there to give players a chance. Use it … and when non-English coaches are appointed it should be no surprise that they choose players they know of – from foreign countries.

There’s a guy leaving the match at half time – his son/grandson is feeling sick, he explains to the steward. We share a few words. He’s not impressed with the game: “It’s England,” he comments, “good at passing, but not many shots, typical!”

Shame he didn’t stay: the second half is action, action, action. A dodgy penalty won by the forward (I could almost read his thoughts … “I’ll get there at the same time as the ‘keeper, he’ll touch me, I’ll go down: penalty”). Duly scored. Not sure whether the Montenegro team had worn themselves out or it was greater experience of the England team, but resistance crumbled. A slowly moving ball was missed by the defender that could have cleared it and poked into his own net by another – when things go wrong eh?

But the goal of the game was from local lad Calum Robinson. Last minute. The ball cleared from a ruck in the penalty area, he caught it on the volley and it bowed into the net sweet as the song of a nightingale.

Six-nil!

By the time I had got home I had the complaint letter composed and it has been sent.

Meanwhile we have voted  in the European elections. The European Union which expands like nobody’s business and bringing confusion to elections and the electorate. Campaigns from the, let’s say established Conservative, Labour and Liberal Democrat parties have given little if any hint as to definite policies for the future and a plethora of additional parties springs up, promising this, that, the other and the kitchen sink and his wife. The United Kingdom Independence Party won the majority of MEP seats and a good many local council seats.

Port Vale: Away

Written on 6th April, 2014

I drove to Bescot to get the tickets for the Vale game. Burslem is not one of my favourite places in League One, though I have been there many times: it’s not so far to travel and there is usually fierce, not-quite-derby tension that brings excitement and skill out in both teams.

Driven in by my brother – cheers mate – and picking up Cully and Drew en route. Back lanes drive was a new way to get there for me, passing none of the landmarks and roundabouts I would normally be looking out for … and that’s not so easy from the back of an Alfa Romeo. Great parking spot and, hey there really was an oat-cakes shop (though it was closed) near the ground.

Brisk stroll; the ground looks so small and bodged together, with a patchwork ethos and stands that do not match. The roof of the stand we were in is apparently from Chester Football Club and so low it holds the sound in. The small-ish Walsall choir were buoyant, deafening (great support!) and, frankly discordant.

Grabbed a bite to eat at the café*: two coffees, two ciders a pie (only meat and potato) and a Mars bar. The cider was sticky and overly sweet.

That passion I was expecting (way back in the first paragraph)? No signs of it in the first half. Vale looking dangerous. Walsall looking a little lost and Ngoo in to replace suspended Westcarr didn’t quite work. The kid is talented, confident but doesn’t somehow fit in. Long legs like a young giraffe, very willing. Maybe just not enough match practice yet? Brandy looked tired and short of pace. James Chambers, unusually, was both out-paced and out-thought by the Vale winger, but we were hanging in there when the half time whistle went.

Playing towards us in the second half we seemed to have a better grip. Play was undoubtedly rougher – scuttlebutt going round the ground was that the teams above us (that we needed to lose to keep our remote play-off chances alive) were actually losing. Both teams here could capitalise on that – if they could win.

Some dubious refereeing decisions given both ways. Some harsh tackles: both ways, some diving: both sides … but when our centre half Paul Downing and a Vale player, Tom Pope, got tangled up in the penalty box – penalty.

Scored!

Cue substitutions: Brandy off for Lalkovic, Ngoo off for Bakayoko and Baxendale (largely ineffective) off for Hewitt.

Cue the traditional weekly last throw-down frantic paced everything and the kitchen sink and his wife and gundog melee as we hammer the Vale defence to get an equaliser and – in our eyes a shred of justice. Equaliser? Hell no; lets win the game!

I can never quite understand why we need to go one down before we start to play properly. Indeed there is a suggestion in the car as we drive back that we should hypnotise the team before the game, trancing ‘em into thinking we are one – nil down. Light the blue touch paper, stand back and watch the fireworks.

It’s history now, we don’t manage it. But there was a spirited first performance from Bakyoko, young but not afraid to get in with the big boys and their flying boots.

Elsewhere, the long-running saga of the Hillsborough Disaster continues. During my life there have been a number of football disasters, this being the worst of them. I cannot begin to imagine the torment the families of the ninety six people who died at what should have been a marvellous occasion have been put through. I salute their grit and determination to have genuine justice. It cannot have been easy.

Brighter news is that Birmingham City Ladies will be playing in the UEFA Women’s Champions League semi-final after beating Arsenal. Women’s football is booming at the moment, credit to everyone who has made it happen. Can we get a team at Walsall please?

And more international matches will be played at Bescot. My guess is that it is due to having the national training centre (St George’s Park) at Rangemore, because the games will be shared with Burton Albion. They are part of the UEFA European Under-19 Championship Elite Qualifying matches and will be played in May.

A horse from just down the road in Worcestershire won the Grand National while we were struggling to overcome the Vale and today Oxford hammered Cambridge in the Universities Boat Race.

*Oh yeah, the name of the café?

Would you Adam and Eve it ?