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.

What Could Go Wrong ? Bury at Home

6th August, 2015

Home

Interesting things can happen when your wife empties a bucket of cooking apples into the back of your car.

Explanation? Make yourself comfortable and read on. Please.

Some generous soul had put some cooking apples on their main road front doorstep. I picked three and took them back to Saddlers Widow. Only to be surprised when she came back with:

“We need more than that …” Not least because when I left neither of us had even known I would be returning with such booty (believe me, getting away without a library fine would have been just dandy).

So returning later in the car I noticed the self-same bucket, self-same handwritten note and invited said wife to “help yourself”. Again to be surprised when she scooped up the whole bucket (what a cheek I thought) and headed to the rear of my car. She simply lifted the boot lid and emptied the contents onto my old “allotment shirt”. About twenty near-perfect Bramleys and a couple of inches of water – I did mention the rain didn’t I?

No problems she thought, just wash the shirt after carrying the swaggage into the house.

Hold that thought; for in the pocket was my mobile ‘phone. And it refused to charge, light up, or sing it’s little-robot song when I called it from our landline ‘phone.

Decided to take it to the ‘phone shop as we couldn’t get the back off it. Of course at the shop the guy – very friendly service – popped the thing open and found a soupcon of water.

Result: kaput: new ‘phone required.

Well, I had been talking about getting a new one for my birthday in four weeks or so …

Got a reasonable deal, but to keep my same number I need to wait a couple of days. Not a problem. This new one is the kind of ‘phone that’s regularly advertised on TV; bright, all singing, dancing; all manner of new bells and whistles that I never knew I needed. But, even so … couldn’t transfer the contact numbers and that included the friends whose season tickets I used to get the Chelsea tickets.

Used the internet to search engine the company and rang the number … getting through to his “number one son” who was very polite and gave me the number I needed.

To arrange to get to the Bury match today.

Disappointed by the crowd. This is an international break weekend, so no games in the Premier League or the Championship, so maybe we could pick up some match-hungry extras. But no, quite the opposite in fact. The “singing hoards” were, in truth absent and the travelling Bury fans have my respect. Promoted from League Two last year they are bottom of the table at start of play.

We wonder why as they rip into us from the whistle. We seem unprepared for it – note to team: if we’re gonna do anything this year we have to be up and ready from the get-go.

Worse still, after only five minutes with players caught out of position and off the pace we go a goal down. It is a good goal too, well worked and puts us on the back foot for a long, long spell. We’re like a boxer having taken a big it, wondering what the … and trying to stay on feet that won’t work.

All of the confidence disappears, passes go wrong, we are bullied off the ball and clattered a couple of times. Echoes of last season?

At half time we are still looking groggy, though Rico Henry is busy and everywhere, some amazing ball skills and tackling back. Flanagan too is putting in the effort, but we are short of two internationals: Neil Etheridge (Philippines) and Demetriou (Cyprus – who lost their Euro qualifying game to wales by a goal to nil) and Bradshaw is isolated up front.

 

Second half we play better, digging in and Sawyers improves, evens wins a couple tackling back balls. We are attacking, Bradshaw still lone man up front, we throw players forwards but there are no spaces, no gaps in the midfield any more. Sam Mantom is trying to exploit his tremendous energy and levels of fitness. Bury are flooding the middle of the field, their two central defenders playing hard and covering each other – they are one nil up and enjoying the day. Unusually our substitutions are the ones I predicted, but my – somewhat flippant – score line of an eight one win is, not surprisingly, wrong.

We lose one nil. Bury worth the win as the y set out early on, kept counter attacking after that early goal and kept some discipline.

Smith is on the radio afterwards – pretty much saying that we have only one right back (I am thinking that young Liam Kinsella did a superb job in just that position last season when called upon – and today he was sat upon the sub’s bench) … and er, if you know we need a full back as a priority why haven’t we got one and also er why so much talk about only needing a central defender and striker just before the transfer deadline. News we had this week was that we have signed Isaiah Osborn and that Dean Smith has been named league One manager of the Month.

Back at home I watch England demolish lowly San Marino six nil. Wayne Rooney getting the goal which puts him as England’s all-time leading scorer with Bobby Charlton on forty nine goals.

After the prestigious cycling races in France (Tour de), Italy, (Guiro) and, currently on TV Spain (la Vuelta) tomorrow the Tour of Britain sets out from Anglesey to Wrexham). Could be that over the years this too will become a classic. That would be fantastic!

Home

2^nd September

Didn’t sleep too well last night. Certainly not worrying about the football that’s for sure. But I had promised to get tickets for friends for the Chelsea game and just maybe I was worried about that. Getting the season tickets, whether I might be expected to re-join the queue after buying one set; how long the queue might be (remembering the Wembley experience for example). Or maybe nothing connected.

But wide awake at a devilish early five thirty, waiting to hear the delivery of an envelope containing season tickets and cash. When the big, clean (much credit due there!) I.C.A.D. van gently appeared and the familiar figure crept along the drive and so-quietly dropped the package through the door I made a cup of tea and played some computer games.

Clear skies after yesterday’s seriously heavy rain; packed a drink, sandwiches and nuts and raisins. It might be a long day.

But when I stroll casually into the official car park (!) the queue is only about thirty or so long. They might have multiple season tickets of course but even so …

I join the line. Get chatting to the guys in front. They had read that the ticket office was going to be open from nine o’clock (the Express and Star apparently). One talks about being a scout for Brian Clough (has all kinds of details: about Derby County, Leeds United, Alan Gilzean) another has had a season ticket at Walsall every year (bar one: the year we moved to this new Bescot Stadium) since 1954! The third doesn’t want tickets for the Chelsea game but a later home game. He is getting a ticket for his son (or grandson) who is in the R.A.F. and – I find out – service personnel get free entry to Walsall matches. A good thing I think.

We talk about the contrasts between football past and present; levels of fitness and tactics. Walsall heroes of bygone days – and between us we can summon up quite a few of those. We talk about how money is spoiling football (if not, indeed, sport altogether) and how we feel the club is doing less and less for season ticket holders. There were times, apparently when season tickets included first rounds of cup games, free beers and – more recently entry into the savoy Lounge. This is only available on payment of an extra fee this time around. Mind you I have no problem with trying to establish sound commercial practices – but wonder where the “thin end of the wedge” will stop.

There’s a woman standing behind a camera tripod; she doesn’t look too impressed, sweeping the queues a couple of times. She approaches the line and – half-heartedly asks whether anyone would be happy to “talk to the camera”. We smile and decline; asking after we had our tickets might have been a better bet I am thinking.

We are so busy chattering the time ticks by, stewards come out and rearrange the queue and the windows open. Thirty minutes later I am walking away; six tickets in my fleece pocket. Mission completed.

Typing this up I am listening to the live commentary on the game up at League Two Morecambe. As per usual this season Dean Smith has made changes to the line up. With goalkeeper Etheridge (Philippines) and Jason Demetriou away playing in World Cup qualifying games we have MacGillivray in gaols and young Liam Kinsella at right back (he was impressive last season but this is his first turn out of this campaign). Matt Preston who made his debut and was solidly impressive is in in place of Paul Downing and Lalkovic and Baxendale start too.

But the commentator is struggling to find words and is reduced to repeating the score and being all poetic about the setting sun (“What you mean,” his commentator interjects at one point, “is that any shepherds watching will be chuffed.”). We are having a lot of the ball, attacking well but, dare I say it – not putting the ball in the net.

And, while it would be truly amazing to win all games, while I am having a go at a new guitar tune or two, Morecambe go a goal up (early second half), then grab another. Seems it is against the run of play but they only count the goals at the final whistle – so we step off this particular Wembley-and-glory trail.

The better to concentrate on other matters?

Who knows?

The home game against Bury will be interesting. Not least because we will still be missing Neil Etheridge who has been key in our early performances. He is very mobile, agile and gets involved. McGillivray? Hmm, jury is out on that one.

But, with the transfer deadline passed we still have Tom Bradshaw (but haven’t managed to add anyone else to the thin squad) – and the season is young.

Onwards and upwards?

Watch this space folks.

Stags and Shrews (Shrewsbury at home: F.A. Cup First Round)

I walk out of the hotel. I’m going to be in a taxi, on a plane, in a minibus for the next ten hours or so. I need some fresh air. Some light exercise. Just an hour’s walk around to clear the cobwebs, get the blood circulating.

And to stand for two minutes silence at eleven o’clock. This is the first time I can remember when I have not been in England at a Remembrance Sunday service. And this one is a hundred years after the beginning of the war that everyone believed would end all wars.

I plan to hold my token silence at the War of Independence Victory Column just around the corner from the hotel. Outside looked very wet from inside the hotel, with rainwater funnelled off roofs by downspouts that resemble a giant’s speaking tube … emptying water not into drains but onto the pavement. But, by the time I am wrapped up and walking through the automatically operated doors there are patches of blue sky and it is not as cold as we had feared. Very hospitable climate indeed – and people too.

But I have a few minutes to spare before eleven – and want to explore a little more. I walk outside the Old Walled City. I notice some movement: a bloke climbing a stepladder, pulling plastic sheeting off … off,

Wow!

It’s unmistakeable: a section of the former Berlin Wall. And connections are made between what I had been watching on BBC’s World TV channel this morning.

It is twenty five years since the “collapse” of the Berlin Wall. I stroll, but rapidly across the tramlines and traffic (there really isn’t much). The people are preparing an official ceremony. Covering up the wall section with black silk. There’s a German flag on one side and an Estonian flag on the other.

I get two quick phone photos before it is covered (I can work out how to get them onto the internet later I hope). A lady there explains to me the significance. The figures tumble around inside my head.

Ten years ago Estonia got independence, twenty five years ago the Berlin Wall fell, a hundred years ago World War One began. Shocking! Numbers eh?

I manage my silence, get back to My City Hotel in time to clamber into a taxi, explain to the driver we want the airport not the seaport (others were not so lucky, trust me) and we are off into that zombie world of international travel. Bring on some form of teleportation that doesn’t end up with me having the head and limb of a random fly a la Vincent Price B movies.

I have had a great adventure on this “stag night trip”; met new people, seen new things and added to my knowledge. Lit a couple of candles in the Russian Orthodox Church for “absent” and inspirational friends. Hearing some rehearsal for an organ recital from the Lutheran “dome” church.

Awake all of Thursday night/Friday morning talking about horror films, families, jobs, houses and travel – and watching YouTube clips. Travelling down to Gatwick Airport in a cramped minibus and flying into Tallinn.

Hotel then a succession of drinking holes. A fascinating old walled city, magical in the flame-lamp lit, damp-cobbled evening. Good food, variety of places to eat and happy people: mostly tourists. A welcoming city, interesting sights with free-information signboards explaining historical significance and contexts.

Bed reasonable early. Breakfast good. A walk of the town: Toompea, the churches, the viewing points and embassies. Coffee and cake, then we visit military antique shops, one that, sadly has church icons for sale (from where and how old and with what traditions I cannot help wondering) and fail to reach an agreeable barter for a Quadrophenia Soundtrack vinyl LP (two Euros and a pack of unopened Walsall F.C. playing cards not having the buying power we expected you see). Then meeting “the lads” for a “sports fest” in a sports bar.

     

Beginning with the Chelsea Liverpool game (a couple of Liverpool fans on the trip disappointed by the result), Rugby Union: England vs New Zealand (final score 21 – 24) and the Formula 1 from Brazil.

Inevitably it gets raucous. I step out for bread and cheese and a coffee, wondering how Walsall are getting on against Shrewsbury in the F.A. Cup game (you can use your ‘phone where the group are, but have to pay a forfeit: roll the dice and drink a nominated drink: by now the rules are that you have to “neck it in one”).

When I get to find out we are losing 2 -1, but there’s a Tom Bradshaw (wouldn’t you know it?) deflected-off-the-knee equaliser in added time.

So – a replay for us … and a chance to go?

After the long afternoon of sport, there’s more serious drinking time. Four of us split off for a meal and when we get back there’s a short been bought for me. I neck it and, retreat being the better part of valour, retire early. With good memories and good company assured.

Sheffield United next in the regional semi-final of the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy.

Some Journeys Are Sad Ones

So the visit to Estonia gets closer. Put into perspective by the F.A. Cup draw that has us at home to League Two Shrewsbury on the Saturday. (Shrewsbury who narrowly lost to Chelsea in the League Cup competition and are making a name for themselves under new manager Micky Mellon … and are also the club we got new crowd=pleaser Tom Bradshaw from during the close season). And there was me hoping for an away tie (against some easy-to-beat (the way we are playing at the moment it’s not easy to name such a team) lowly opposition with aground a long way from home. Which would mean I couldn’t possibly get there, we’d get through to the next round and I would be able to see an amazing Cup run (and not feel even vaguely guilty about the maybe-frivolous trip to Tallinn)

Because of the trip we had arranged our annual bonfire night a week earlier (also because other family members were available too on the Sunday) and I have spent some time this week preparing the site and the fuel (hedge cuttings and collected windfall logs) as well as paper and cardboard to get it lit.

Big world news is that Virgin Galactic’’s bid to get space tourism “off the ground” met a setback when the latest test flight ended in disaster with a test pilot 39-year-old Michael Alsbury, killed and the other pilot, Peter Siebold, 43, injured after ejecting clear. There are reports, almost inevitability of technical issues. But this is the sometimes-grim reality of pushing the frontiers of knowledge. It comes at a price. But, being inquisitive as a species we move forwards. No doubt this “space tourism” will initially benefit the rich. But beyond that, as today’s cutting edge becomes mainstream – who knows?

 

India, meanwhile is being criticized for its own space program when a large portion of the population cannot attain simple basic hygiene standards.

And more locally an explosion in a fireworks factory/outlet on the outskirts of Stafford left two (unidentified in early reports) people dead.

On Friday evening I had a ‘phone call from Andy. He would pick me up, we’d trek over to Notts County in some style, have a meal and a beer and see the game.

He arrived, as promised at around midday: a lovely warm day, good to travel along reasonably familiar roads. A reminder of the trip last year, when we were on a great run and came away five one winners. Quite different this time round. County having gone eleven games without losing and us? Hmmm?

But, somewhere on the way my ‘phone went. It was embedded in an autumn-coat pocket in the back of the car. I considered not answering. But, honestly: for people to ring me usually means an emergency. So I fished around, and answered.

The next few moments were shocking!

A long-time friend, family man, going to buy fireworks had been identified as one of those killed in the Stafford fire. Not only a friend, but a long-time Saddlers supporter who has shared, over the years in the journeys, ups and downs of football. And our annual bonfires! And the memories skittled by. Andy too was upset.

I may write more about this in another post. There is so much more to tell; suffice it for now to say that changed the mood; although I guess I actually didn’t take it in properly.

We found the same pub/restaurant we parked in last year. The Riverside right on the River Trent, close to both Notts County and Nottingham Forest grounds. Still decked out with Hallowe’en fripperies. We discussed horror movies (classic and modern) and the traditions of Hallowe’en for a few minutes, then ordered fish and chips. Honestly? Over-priced and the fish was too wet to taste. But we were able to use the car park and it was food. And the beer was tasty (Indian Pale Ale for me.)

Getting darker by the time we set out to walk around three sides of the ground and, despite a small panic I did have enough to pay to get in.

Very sophisticated ticket. Seat number and all, but once past the noisy, beer drinking Walsall fans around the bar the stewards said predictably perhaps:

“Sit where you like, the numbers mean nothing.”

A good following from Walsall, but a large section of the ground was roped off and it seemed like a small home crowd. We got seats with a good view … and chatted with the steward. Certainly the friendliest stewards I have come across this season so far. About club histories, about Nottingham Forest “taking away a generation of fans”, about the game last season.

Walsall went off fast! Pressing forwards. Tom Bradshaw on his own up front. Antony Forde keeping his place and Romaine Sawyers in midfield. Some fine Saddlers attacking moves seemed to surprise and shake County, though they had their own raids. But our passing play looked smoother and more confident.

At the back Ben Purkiss seems to be fit and match fit again. he made some good interceptions, covering tackles and got forward effectively too. Andy Taylor steady as always opposite him on the left. O’Donnell also made some good saves early on. This built his confidence as the game went on. Some fine refereeing when tackles became ragged. The referee calling offenders and captains together for a word. It worked.

We took the lead deservedly. Jordan Cook and Sawyers combined to end a move with Cook having a deflected shot hit the inside of the County post and dribble over the goal line.

County then moved up a gear. Long runs from mid-field, mostly unchallenged. Long shots. But a slip up had a long angled cross finding the striker who headed a good goal past O’Donnell.

Disappointing but perhaps inevitable. We were giving up too much ground and our forward moves slowed down. Often with Sawyers, undoubtedly a talented player taking too long on the ball or trying for the complicated pass, back-heel or lay off. Sometimes the simple thing is the right thing.

By half time it was getting cold. There was a spirited kids game going on below us at half time, some very accomplished moves and five goals!

Second half kicked off and the Walsall team were revitalised. Taking control of the game as they had done at the start of the first half.

With so much pressure and surviving a few counter attacks thanks to superb agility from Richard O’Donnell we were awarded a free kick when a central defender reached up and pulled the ball down. Walsall appealed for a penalty and the referee, again doing the correct thing, consulted with the assistant ref – and gave the penalty.

Tom Bradshaw struck it brilliantly and it went, like a crossbow bolt into the back of the net. His celebrations and the response of the travelling fans was marvellous. Oh and no booking for celebrating the goal so joyously.

 

Manset came on with a little time remaining but had no chance to show his real skills: tripping when chasing a ball, recovering well, but fluffing the pass when another goal looked likely.

On the final whistle, shoulders down he sloped off towards the tunnel while the rest of the team came over to show their appreciation for our support. Wisely somebody sent Manset over. It was a wonderful moment. No doubt the support helps the team out – these moments after games show they understand that.

In the dark skies on the quiet journey home fireworks were flashing and waking up sadness.

No Signal, Jet Lag and Doncaster Rovers at Home

I have been away: three days in New York (so much seen, so much left to see) before joining an escorted “heritage of America Tour” that swooped through Philadelphia, Lancaster County, Gettysburg, Colonial Williamsburg and ended in Washington: a city of many monuments and, for me, little identity or soul.

          

 

Overall a great experience: meeting such friendly people and learning so much while travelling the miles and the years. Also frustrating. Because my nephew lives in New York, but without a mobile ‘phone signal – and after running up a twenty dollar ‘phone bill getting the wrong numbers _ I had no way to get to see him. My guess is he would still have got engaged even if he’d met up with us. (Congratulations Tom!)

But, after delays, long-time sitting in airports and plane seats, watching all three available TV episodes of the Vikings and winning two virtual poker tournaments – oh and a marvellous taxi driver who mentioned driving a visiting friend of Randy Lerner’s past the Aston Villa ground – we got home. Stayed awake until English bed time and went to sleep.

At some indecent early hour before the sun was up my ‘phone went off. A message from my brother which read:

“Won – lost – drew”

Needless to say I cursed the ‘phone and wonder – still – why the message didn’t drop in earlier.

Lost seems not to cover it –as we were, apparently truly hammered 4 – 0 at Rochdale, having previously beaten Preston N.E. 3 – 1 at home – the only home game I missed because of the trip.

Meanwhile in the cup formerly known as the League Cup (now the Capital One Cup) Shrewsbury won against Norwich City to earn a home tie against Chelsea and Liverpool and Middlesbrough were involved in a penalty shoot out that needed thirty spot kicks (imagine that) for Liverpool to go through. This took an additional nineteen minutes and is – it goes without saying – a new record number of penalties that, hopefully will not be broken for many a long year.

So I set out to drive to the game: still feels strange to be on this side of the road. It also felt like a long time since I have been to a game (that’s how good the holiday was!) Feeling also some trepidation: we have only won one game in nine this season so far – or three out of the past twenty seven – and the season is finely balanced. Local media talk is about James Baxendale – who once played for Doncaster Rovers and Andy Butler has returned to Walsall (from Sheffield United) on what is termed an “emergency loan”. I have no idea how this differs from any other loan, but it sounds rather desperate.

 

Warm day, no problems parking; stroll to the ground, into the Bonser Lounge. Met up with Andy and Cully. Out in the stadium my first impression was green, space , watching O’Donnell signing autographs for kids behind the practice goal and noise: that “overture and the crashing drums of The Who to welcome players onto the pitch.

Tom Bradshaw back from injury, Reece Flanagan, Grimes on the bench. And the kick off appeared a little chaotic, players not seeming sure who was going to take the kick making me think of schoolboy games when somebody says, at the last minute “Oh all right, you take it but give me the ball; OK?”

Poor first half; no routine, passes going astray, no rhythm and Saddlers players staying back, putting no pressure on the ball or the Donny defence. Bradshaw working hard, bravely and selflessly up front, but nobody behind him to pick up the scraps.

Then, almost as even the most hardened of us was ready for the half time whistle some good play down the left had Sawyers threading a ball to – impossibly – Baxendale when the tall Rovers defenders were expecting a cross (I guess) and little “Bax” fired a sweet shot into the corner of the net.

Second half was a different matter. Walsall in full flow. Players up for it and going forward relentlessly. Some hard and some harsh tackling from Doncaster, but following an injury to the first choice ‘keeper and Billy Clifford coming on for Flanagan, Forde found more space and had composure down the left, with fine support from Andy Taylor (an accomplished player who looks the least athletic of footballers I have seen for some years (don’t judge a book by it’s cover”). Fine, sharp passing brought Sawyers into the game. He looked up, spotted a run by Bradshaw, popped the ball into the space and – another goal for “Bradders”.

Later a free kick on the edge of the box had us wondering who would take it. A real tussle going on in the area, Baxendale upsetting the defenders, getting roughed up, Andy Butler going over and elbows flying about. My guess that Taylor would take the kick was completely wrong: Antony Forde stepped up, shot, the ball arced in, bounced of the inside of the post and into the net. Some credit has to go to Butler and Baxendale here for the distraction I think. But the ball was in the net – again!

This was the final result, although Bradshaw and Sawyers would be replaced by Grimes and Manset (some fine touches and strong play) and there was a general sigh of relief. Maybe this means we are back to business as we once knew it – that’ll be at the start of last season incidentally. But, just maybe, a lot of weight has been taken off the players shoulders now and we are at home again next Saturday.

“You’re Only Supposed to Blow the Bl**$y Doors Off!”

Today is the day the gloves come off: England’s first game in this World Cup. Against Italy in the “group of death”! the media hype has been generally positive. Is that to do with manager Roy Hodgson’s calm, down-to-earth style? Or the attitude of the media?

Knowing the game didn’t kick off until 11 p.m. our time I prepared myself. A morning up at the allotment: sowing Swedes, radish and planting out beans.

Then watching the Trooping of the Colour on BBC TV. Today is the queen’s eighty eighth birthday and with great camera work and angles we saw how stirringly – yet calmly – we can do pageantry. Precision in detail – on a massive scale. Chelsea Pensioners, messages from Afghanistan, the Royal Artillery, the standards and marching, those impressively statuesque drum horses of the mounted band, the swords. All in perfect weather conditions. The Royal Family on the balcony of Buckingham Palace. The fly past which included the battle of Britain Memorial Flight  and the Red Arrows. Both of these were at the Cosford Airshow I went to last week (although the BBMF was without the Lancaster bomber).

                

This is her official birthday (her actual birthday is 21st April). In the Birthday Honours List were Stephen Sutton, a local teenager who did so much to raise awareness of teenage cancer and ring a new attitude to life for so many people. He truly deserves this prestigious award.

It seems to me that, for some reason we have a lot more programmes on TV this year celebrating our history and heritage. No bad thing.

After that, while lazily channel surfing I came across the Italian Job film. The original, not the ungainly remake. The 1960s film that turned the already impressively versatile Mini into a world-wide film star and coincidentally featured a fictional international game in Turin as backdrop for the story. The film is dated now, but I still enjoyed the car chase sequences: some of the best movie chase sequences I have ever seen because they are different – and do not take themselves so seriously.

  

Seemed like a long day before the BBC team were running up the inevitable talk-before-the –game chatter. But, in contrast to the rather amateur, unprepared bumbling of ITV teams this was stylish and informed.

Over to the match. Manaus, Northern Brazil. England started quickly. Some good cheeky skills from Raheem Stirling, good tackling back from Danny Wellbeck, but Italy always looking dangerous, seeming better able to keep possession than the England team. Joe Hart, looking good in goals.

Then Italy scored: a well worked goal from a set piece with a powerful drive from well outside the box beating the diving keeper.

England back into the action, energetically. Rooney throwing off the mediocre start made the play and Sturridge put the ball into the net for a splendid equaliser. During the goal celebrations, it seems the England physio dislocated his ankle and wsa stretchered off. One for future quizzes.

Half time.

Italy on the offensive. A marvellous saving goals line clearance from Phil Jagielka.

A few minutes later a superb goal from Mario Balotelli.

And try as England might Italy always put themselves in control. England players had perhaps run themselves out of the game. A few went down with cramp. Interesting that the Italians did not. Does that say something about how prepared – or not – we are?

The conditions are warmer, the Italians live in conditions like these, so that may have something to do with it.

But, it was good to see England competing. I am so pleased that we have none of the pre-game excuse making in this competition so far (long may it continue).

Interesting point is the use of spray by the referees in this tournament to mark the spot a free kick is to be taken from and the line ten yards away for the defensive wall. What a simple idea, but so effective.

There are at least two games left for us: Uruguay and Costa Rica, so all is not lost.

images: Trooping of the Colour: dailymail, telegraph and BBC

Italian Job: dailymail and ptsnob.com

Balotelli: brunchnews.com

Gillingham: Home

Strange how days seem to merge and blur over the Easter break. With the game at Carlisle on Good Friday the day seemed like a Saturday with me typing on the computer, listening to the radio commentaries and actually expecting there to be a Match of the Day on TV (there wasn’t of course). Saturday seemed strange with Premiership matches going on (including Sunderland beating Chelsea at Stamford Bridge handing Liverpool a good chance to establish a real challenge for the title in Sunday’s game (they took it, beating Norwich City fairly convincingly)).

And today’s bank Holiday home game against Gillingham adding to the confusion.

Or was it only confusing for me?

The people at the booking office have been great this season, courteous, efficient and helpful. I will not be needing this service next season as I now have a season ticket (apart from advance buying away tickets and – ooo-er – tickets for our –we can but hope – Cup run). My thanks to them all.

Bright, sunny journey. Birds singing, my car freshly cleaned inside and flowers springing up everywhere. Gossip on BBC WM is that David Moyes will be sacked by Man United (this is the way that rumours start, I’m thinking, start, build up credibility and become fact). I am deeply jealous of the resources that man Utd have (or apparently command) but aware that behind that is the spiral-drive for success and then success-plus. I had hoped that a club like United would stand against the trends. Moyes was reasonably successful at Everton after all and, in my opinion deserves a longer bedding-in period. Sir Alex Ferguson was always going to be a tricky act to follow; he managed the football and commercial aspects of the job well – the pressures too!

Meanwhile – it could all be rumour and supposition a la radio – in local place and time I am parked and marching to the ground, past loitering supporters on mobile phones and deep in desultory conversations I head for the seat that will have my name on it next season.

Westcarr’s back from suspension, Lalkovic recovered from his hamstring strain and Gillingham, on paper, poor opposition.

We start strongly, rattle the Gills defence then settle back a little tamely. Febian Brandy is, typically, keen to do well, so too is Lalkovic. They might both be playing to attract attention from Championship scouts, hoping to get deals for next season. I hope we can keep Brandy, but also sensibly think he may cost too much for our means. Lalkovic too.

Paul Downing appears to lead a charmed life today, the referee not penalising what looked like fouls and at least one penalty, eventually and predictably getting booked for a fairly innocuous one later in the game. No appeals from the Gillingham players either, who are starting to look direct and capable. Mal Benning meanwhile, playing at left back is raiding up the wings like a good ‘un, full of pace and ambition and tricky ball skills taking him into some good positions. He rains crosses into the penalty area. Too bad no Walsall player can get on to the end of them.

There is a good following from Gillingham, it’s a long way to travel (a hundred and sixty something miles, translates as three hours or so of travel) at this stage of the season, so fair play to their faithful (a.k.a. noisy) supporters.

Not so many Walsall supporters here. Busy gardening? Decorating? Lost interest? Out of money?

We talk about the November stag night. Venue fixed. Tallin. Flights and hotel to be organised. Leaving Stansted at seven a.m. doesn’t sound too bright but gives us more time in the city I guess. I am looking forward to it – fly out on Friday, back on Sunday … but hope there isn’t a home match that weekend.

Half time. Inside for a coffee. Talk about families, work. Almost forget we are at a football game and kick off has been taken and play is under way as we saunter back out to our seats. Nearby a man is scribbling notes on to a paper. I guess he is a scout for one of the teams we have yet to play. What an interesting task and I wonder how they actually do it? Some pre-arranged format?

Good open play from both teams, but Westcarr tried a couple from long range (unusual for Walsall this season) and from one of them the ball came back off the keeper’s outstretched hand to Brandy, running in to blast into the back of the net.

Some minutes before the end Gillingham are level. The umpteenth team we have helped avoid relegation in the last few weeks … and we have won only two of the last sixteen games. Good job we put a shift in early on in the season.

Elsewhere, tensions are still going on between Russia, the Ukraine and the rest of the world.

It’s Queen Elizabeth’s eighty eighth birthday. She celebrates with a rare “private day” at home with the family, while all over London there are military gun-salutes. We do pageantry so well.

It is also the fiftieth birthday of BBC 2.

Across the pond Boston is extremely security conscious about its annual marathon, following the harrowing scenes at the finish line last year, when terrorists exploded a bomb as runners were finishing. Dreadful!

We were in Boston in October of last year. Having been on an escorted “leaf Peeper” tour of New England and out in the rural parts for many days, Boston seemed intimidatingly cityish as we drove in, but soon took on human proportions as we walked out across the Common.

match images; saddlers.co.uk and Walsall Advertiser