Riding the Luck: Colchester at Home

20th March: at home.

This is the week of the Cheltenham Festival: horse racing extravaganza just down the M5. Literally thousands of pounds being spent on corporate hospitality, wagers and flights from and to Ireland. The week of St Patrick’s Day.

 

The weekend when both Formula One and Moto GP begin new seasons.

And the week that begins with Walsall still in third place in League One. A seeming impossibility at the end of last season.

To mark the first former Olympic cycling champion Victoria Pendleton finishes fifth in an amateur race at Cheltenham. To mark the second (and Channel Four’s debut as the channel showing F1 there is an interesting Guy Martin programme (on said Channel 4). Set up as a duel between a Red Bull F1 car (complete with semi-trailer and fourteen man pit crew) and Martin’s own superbike(arrives in the back of a white van with one mechanic) in a range of race-offs at Silverstone. The programme also, interestingly drags in science and personalities: David Coulthard piloting the car. Guy Martin in any guise is very telly-friendly: knowledgeable, charming and with an infectious humour. Non-stereotypical he “brews up tea” at the drop of a thing that is dropped easily and often and is an eccentric workaholic. Alf Tupper in leathers?

  

The factors that give the car three victories out of four are analysed, but key to the programme is the relationship that develops between the biker and the Scot.

 

Strangely – and for the first time, races in both classes will be taking part on the same weekends this season. Is this deliberate competition? Or accidental?

More seriously we have had the pronouncements of the Conservative government budget. Amongst the unexpected measures are the setting up of a tax on “Excessively sugary drinks”, allegedly to combat “child obesity” but perhaps to fund a pledge to make every school an academy rather than under local authority control: the long-threatened centralisation of control.

… and, driving home on Friday evening I hear that the alleged ring leader of the dreadful Paris attack has been captured in Brussels.

In the Saddlers news we will now not be playing our Good Friday game away at Gillingham or the home game against Shrewsbury on Easter Monday. To Bradshaw has, deservedly been called up for the Wales games – so an enforced “international break”.

This has both good and bad sides: we will gain games in hand … but these are no good if you can’t win ‘em.

Both games are being rearranged and I am seriously thinking of making the long trip to Gillingham. This has been a truly wonderful season to date (wonderful encompassing roller-coaster and frustrating but standards and spirit have been marvellous).

There are unexpectedly long queues at the ticket office when my brother and I get there; fans needing to get money back from the tickets they had perhaps bought for the postponed games, as well as some buying/collecting tickets for the game today.

There are just over a hundred fans that have made the trip from bottom-of-the-league Colchester. True fans indeed: my hat is off to them!

I decide to delay collecting my Savoy Lounge pass until after the game and head inside the Savoy Lounge. Nobody in there, so I politely nab a chair at a nearly full table and join in with chatter: the game at Burton Albion, a lady wanting to do her happy-dance goal celebrations who has just been given a job as staff nurse at Sutton Hospital and the sacking of Sean O’Driscoll.

Outside to join Cully, Jack and Mike at the pitch side. I hear about the successful trip to New York before we take our chairs.

Expectations are, of course, high; we are, after all playing the team that is bottom of our league Jon Whitney has done a fantastic job of getting the supporters behind the team (this man is a great motivator – we have yet to see if he is also a good manager). And the crowd is, quite literally, buzzing! Which is great to feel, to be part of.

 

But then reality sets in. Colchester are not going to roll over and give up. Far from it! They are keen, active, assertive and we struggle to get to grips with the speed at which they begin. Surely they cannot keep it up? Surely we will adjust ?

Then, with the ball in a totally different part of the pitch James O’Connor is down. Needing treatment. Looks serious: he is helped off the pitch, cannot put his weight on his one foot. Young Matt Preston; solid and physically awesome is shuttled on. He has already played a few games this season, but he is coming into a minefield this time. O’Connor has grown into the role of central defender over the course of this season – and has been another talisman.

Colchester’s much deserved goal comes from a corner. Lanky Owen Garvan leaping high to pop the ball past Etheridge into our net.

 

Maybe, we hope silently, the game will be called off because nine of the visiting fans run about a bit behind the goal.

Their team, cheekily and happily for them are one nil up – and looking good for it.

O.K. Fair enough we are without one of our “main men”, Adam Chambers. Young Liam Kinsella coming in for him is not having a bad game. And O’Connor is not out there, commanding the defence, but …

At some time we notice that both Jordy Hiwula and Tom Bradshaw are wearing black gloves. Tomorrow is the spring equinox, the day on which hours of sunlight and non-sunlight (technically sunlight is shaded from us by the earth itself) are equal: the first day of traditional spring, but this is the coldest day we can remember; low temperatures biting deep. Also the day, wouldn’t you know it when our gas boiler is being replaced at home (a combi boiler) so no central heating, some mess, lots of disturbance and clearing up to be looked forward to.

But, back to the gloves: I am minded of the Kirk Douglas gunfighter character in, I think, The War Wagon. But I am out-gunned by my peers who go for Robert Vaughn’s gambler-pistolero in The Magnificent Seven. Anything sometimes rather than watch poor football. Fashion and films can be a worthwhile distraction. And, is it true by the way that we can really only see 5% of everything that actually exists? That there is stuff in between the stuff that we can see?

At half time, gloves or no gloves, we are still we are one nil down. The crowd I still behind the team, but, as we kick off the second half, patience is wearing thin. We seem to be passing sideways – or worse, backwards, instead of going forwards. There is a tangible edge of frustration. How can we be so brilliant on the road and so poor at home. We haven’t won a home game in the last six. Are we jinxed?

The game continues; we are poor (and Colchester play a part, of course, dominating the game).

There are substitutions: Rico Henry off and Milan Lalkovic on (like for like or near as dammit) and Kieron Morris on for Kinsella. We stir a little after these moves. But Lalkovic cannot make an impression on the defence and is clearly annoyed with himself. Sawyers is booked (properly so for reacting angrily to a poor decision). The frustration is creeping onto the pitch.

Not sure where the plan came from but Matt Preston is now playing further forwards. Winning balls and knocking them down or on. The ball begins to go to our players, nit theirs. We are suddenly energised, realising maybe that we need to get a goal, get two: win the match … because time is running out.

Spectators all around me are adamant we will not get even a draw out of this. Me? I am not so sure.

And, faith pays off, as with a couple of minutes to go Preston finds Bradshaw who controls the ball inside the penalty area and drills a shot past the ‘keeper. We are level. Needless to say the atmosphere changes. The crowd is now baying: urging the team forwards, forwards, forwards.

Some more short, sideways passes. Long balls, crosses and we are in to time added on. Well into time added on. It seems impossible to score, but … we get a corner. Good cross from Lalkovic, the goalkeeper saves, the ball bobbles out to Bradshaw; fierce shot … comes off the bar.

To Preston, who is patience personified, waiting for the ball to drop, keeping his head.

Before he hammers it into the net … and the crowd goes crazy!

 

One we have literally pulled out of the fire.

For some reason the fourth official speaks with the referee and goalkeeper Etheridge is booked. Was he enjoying the goal/ Celebrating? He was too far away from the action. Cannot see this as anything other than an over-reaction. By the fourth official amazingly.

Happy with the three points. Still in third place: both Wigan and Burton above us winning their games (when less than secretly we were hoping they’d both slip up; give us a chance). But, honestly we had some real luck towards the end of this game and those few brave Colchester fans have every right to feel gutted on the way home to East Anglia.

Dare to Dream? Chance’d Be A Fine Thing: (Colchester Away)

Colchester?

A simple, unGoogled guess is the way to Stansted airport and a few miles and roundabouts more. My car could find its own way to Stansted these days I believe, but money and time are short. Following Walsall is good, especially since we are doing so much better away from home – at the moment – but there are other things in my life. Work being one. The winter weather being another, and the associated lack of light that early sunset brings.  Something like six, seven hours drive there and back didn’t appeal.

But in a masochistic way going to the gym did. Not exactly a New Year’s resolution, but I do need to spend a little more time and thought on getting regular challenging exercise. So a walk to renew library books, get meat from the butchers, cream of chicken soup … then off to the local Fitness First gym. Wow! It is so completely different at two o’clockish, Saturday afternoon. Almost empty: park where you want, plenty of spaces. And the machines are deserted … a ghost-gym if you will. I can automatically sign myself in now by waving my card over the gizmo on the desk: good job because I cannot see any staff about. My plan was to settle on to some of the aerobic machines facing the strip of TVs over the – quite unnecessary in my opinion – mirror wall at the “front” of the floor. Put myself in for a long session, on bike or treadmill, and watch the football results, highlights/pundits and keep up with the scores. But I was there a little too early. So instead I am watching an animated film (what is the difference between a cartoon and an animated film? I wonder as I pedal at level 9 across the “random” programme) with pigeons and railway trains. That and a Michael J Fox U.S farce that I have seen – and enjoyed. He falls madly in bed with his aunt, and in love with a character played by Helen Slater and it all ends happily ever after, though once it is finished I can never remember how it was resolved.

There is football punditry on only one screen, which is showing a surreal loop (without sound) of manager’s heads (I recognise Mourinho, Alan Pardew, Harry Redknapp and Paul lambert); there should be a link, however tenuous and I am puzzled: what might it be?

I finish my exercises at around about half time, get into the car, turn on the radio. Walsall winning one – nil: an Antony Forde header after good work from Jordan Cook.

I decide to drop in on mom. My brother is there. We talk: trains, terrorism, rights of free speech, and by the end of the game we have won: two nil. Super work from a typically calm Bradshaw; putting the ball inside for Michael Cain to notch the second.

  

Colchester haven’t won at home since October.

In another game two Scunthorpe goalies were stretchered off; both had broken arms; both injured in collisions with Bristol City players. Football is a simple game really, but there are so many possibilities and permutations. Has this ever happened before?

Not so far away at Molineux, there is a sadness at the celebration of the life of Sir jack Hayward: the man who, essentially saved Wolverhampton Wanderers with his generosity and enabled the club not only to survive but re-invent itself. Massive building projects reshaped the ground and, though managers came and went the spirit of the club lives on. I am fiercely loyal to my team, but sometimes in this world of corporate investment and clubs being financed, funded and held together by foreign owners the genuine role of the local businessman supporting his local club and having such a genuine affinity with it deserves recognition. The day did Sir Jack proud by all accounts, so respect to the Wolves (if only for once and for a short time).

Incidentally Hayward was also generous in many other respects: funding the return of S.S. Great Britain from the Falkland’s, sponsoring a library in a local school and England Women’s Cricket team. Amongst so many other creditable deeds. Not everyone who has money uses it selfishly and, though I daresay there will be those who will unkindly suggest Sir Jack could have done more it is certainly true that he did more than many.

For Walsall fans there is now the dilemma:

Success in the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy and a trip to Wembley … or the longer-term glory of a possible paly off place? We are continually consistently inconsistent as Darren Fellows wrote in Monday’s Express and Star:

“Away wins at Preston and Colchester, home defeats to Coventry and Scunthorpe.

Clean sheets on our travels, defensively abject at home …

Just about everything you already knew about this team in four results.”

Nigel Clough, studiedly stubborn and obtusely straight spoken has lead Sheffield United to the promotion zone in League One and a League Cup semi-final. Asked on TV whether he would go for the Wembley Final or a play off game he finally answered (like his father, Brian,  he rarely gives a simple answer) that he would have to pick the play off appearance.

Me, I’m crazy enough to dream and wonder why say either one or the other, let’s do both and a bit more besides.

The long wait and inevitable, slightly patronising hype will be about soon. The second leg game match is – apparently – sold out.

We did brilliantly to win at Deepdale; we have players beginning to get a second wind: let’s get our seats on the roller coaster – and hang on tight. It won’t be easy … but being a Saddler’s fan never has been.

Images: Walsall match: Walsall Advertiser

Molineux; itv.com

Colchester Utd (home)

I’m at the allotment, loaded up with runner beans, pears and sweet corn and heading towards the car, when a thought strikes me.

“Hey!” I say to Mike (he’s a Wolves supporter), our allotment neighbour, “the world’ll be a different place when we get back, we may passports to visit Scotland!”

“Yes,” he agrees, “And Walsall might have scored.”

We’re off to New York, joining a tour that eventually returns from Washington D.C. I am certainly looking forward to it; not least after hard-working-no-win-in-sight day at Bescot yesterday.

Playing Colchester, who just sacked their manager, Joe Dunn and his assistant Mark Kinsella (father of our latest prodigy full back Liam Kinsella), for poor performances were not happy to play the role of weak and feeble victims to our “fierce comeback after Tongue lashings following the defeat at Scunthorpe last week” (as per the local media).

There’s an “international break” with no Premier league or Championship games and a number of players are in the stand: Febian Brandy, Brian Flynn, Mark Kinsella and Ben Purkiss to name but a few.

We start quite well, but Colchester match our passion and pace. Some fine challenges and Walsall lose the ability to create space and pass. Our one strength and feature so far this season.

I understand that it is too, too easy to be an armchair manager, but, despite this I cannot understand why Manset, with his frame, strength and ability to hold the ball under pressure is playing somewhere behind a workaholic Tom Bradshaw. Surely the point of having “Big Man” Manset is to use him as a mobile target man? I don’t doubt he has the versatility to play other roles but see the target man role as key to us having a plan B strategy.

 

Some of the challenges are early-exchange assertive; some are blatantly criminal, including one that has Manset crashing onto the track/wall down below us. He is, at least dazed, while being treated (if the holding hands and shaking them our physio was doing can be labelled as treatment) for some moments. But brave or stupid, he’s back on and getting involved again – in mid field. No action from the referee, who, I don’t believe actually saw the challenge.

It is, of course wrong that I am left criticising refereeing decisions: I would love to be concentrating on the play and players, but little was happening.

There were good, solid games from Reece Flanagan (some fine, subtle and determined touches), Liam Kinsella and Kieron Morris. I love the idea that we’re investing successfully in bringing young players through, that I was watching three of them today … but not quite as much as I like seeing my team winning convincingly and that hasn’t happened for a long time. Tom Bradshaw still has that energetic, keen edge, running everywhere, chasing what seem to be lost causes and making something of them. But again getting poor service and needing to drift back too often to get any touches at all.

I am convinced we have the players but something needs to be altered. I like the fact that we have a management team that inspire loyalty and team spirit, but am disappointed that we seem to have just the one strategy. And that one has been sussed already.

Meanwhile Sainsbury’s School Games begin this weekend; meant to inspire they are based on opening-ceremony to closing-ceremony events like the Olympics and include Paralympic athletes. Credit to Sainsbury’s for sponsoring this event, best wishes to all taking part in Manchester.

The Tour of Britain Cycle Race also begins on Sunday. The first stage begins in Liverpool. The race finishes in London. Glad that we have a premier cycling event in Britain, but cannot help but smile at the inevitable comparisons I draw with the Tour de France, The Guiro (Italy) and la Vuelta (Spain). One day maybe, winning the British race will have similar cache, but not for some years and much promotion I fear

In political world news what the media is calling “pro-Russian separatists” are still ensconced and seem determined in the Ukraine. Russia itself seems to be supporting the so-called rebels more and more directly. A N.A.T.O. conference in Newport, wales has some agreement on what action to take and David Cameron is talking tough “ruling nothing out at this stage” … but winter and colder weather is creeping towards us and we get a lot of gas from Russia (along with most of Europe). Watch this space, I guess, to see whether the current ceasefire lasts … and even leads to peace.

Indeed, watch this space, because if all goes to plan we won’t be back until after the referendum in Scotland over independence. It seems ridiculous to me that only residents of Scotland will be voting when the result will affect all of the United Kingdom countries, but hey, what do I know.

I am already aggrieved that Scots and Welsh M.Ps. get to vote in the Houses of Parliament on English laws and decisions, while M.Ps. with English constituencies have no role to play in the Scots or Welsh Assemblies.

Can somebody explain to me how that is fair?

Meanwhile, of course Mike deserved some come-back to his cheeky (if witty) remark about the possibility that Walsall might have scored …

Best I could manage was to ask how long he thought we were going away for …

Not With A Bang – Colchester (home)

Not with  a bang but with a whimper; now where have I heard that before? And heard it so many times about a range of different things. Shakespeare maybe, some anti-hero in a nuvclear holocaust film/

It’s no good I have to Google it (other search engines are of course available) and it turns out it’s the end of a poem by T.S. Eliot. And it is so, so,  so astonishingly appropriate to the game today. So, actually is the beginning of the poem (reproduced later).

However – to begin at the beginning (well earlier, at any rate). We successfully and efficiently moved  our daughter’s furniture yesterday. I tell you having a horse box really helps: it can carry a heavy load and the wide side ramp for up and offloading is worth an extra pair of hands (although those would not have gone amiss).

So a good night’s sleep, some grass cutting  this morning then a quick sandwich and off to the Premier Inn, Walsall. I had arranged to take a friend of ours, a visiting teacher from Sicily, two of her colleagues and four pupils from the school in Bagheria to the game this afternoon. My thanks to the box-office staff for helping with the arrangements and to the commercial manager, Karen Donohue for the super welcome – and to Swifty for – well, for being Swifty (that’s always enough!).

But it depended on time-keeping. My brother had to be there on time, to help with transport (an Alfa Romeo, no less) and the school party had to be there (they were out on Cannock Chase this morning on group activities) and I was hoping they would be back in time.

It didn’t help that I ran out of credit on my pay-as-you-go mobile phone. But I got a phone call from Maria. They were on the bus heading back from Cannock Chase. Didn’t sound, at the time, very hopeful. But within five minutes the minibuses were coming round the island and into the car-park. I spoke to a lady – she is not my friend, but I recognise her from Facebook – and to my new Turkish friends. These international projects are so good at getting ordinary people (and children) to meet each other face to face. How very valuable!

One of the minibus drivers came over> seems he went to school with our youngest daughter. Said he recognised me – hey! Did I really look this old when our kids were at school? We chatted. I also met the English teacher who is coordinating the project and congratulated her on the whole thing. It is, I know, no small matter to organise such events.

My brother arrived. Into the cars and to the ground. Collected the tickets. Didn’t think I had time to pick up the free tickets, which as a season ticket holder I am entitled to for the up and coming UEFA under-19 internationals. Into the ground.  A big crowd from Colchester. A long way to travel for the last, largely insignificant game of the season so all credit to ‘em. The children seemed fine – and quite excited to be sitting on the pitch side wall, watching the pre match training. I kept my eye out for Karen. Spotted her and we exchanged a few words. I have met her before, but not been introduced and she was perfect. Adaptable, intelligent and able to think on her feet. I had asked if the club might find some kind of “goody bag” for each of the children – and she came up trumps! Sponsor’s “stress-balls”, piggy banks and a pack of playing cards all in a “Saddlers carrier bag”.

(This is a good time to separate out the two aspects of Walsall. The commercial side which today worked so well. A request – out of the blue – responded to in such a positive fashion. These children will go back to Sicily with such good impressions of the club – and, because they are so young, of the game. The playing side –  today a different story.)

Swifty came across. He posed for, and with the youngsters. Good work Swifty. The most action we saw all game. The party were delighted.

Not a good view from where we were sitting: upright girders in the way. But no great loss today. Dean Smith was playing a side with no loan players in it. Not sure why. The players we have not seen recently were lacking in match practice and team understanding. The players we wanted to see would have added some flair and class. Which goes to show what good signings they were – and how much we needed them. Close season to work on that one needed.

I did say to Maria (the teacher/friend) that everyone in the crowd finds it so hard to understand: every one of us could do so much better than those wearing the shirts, shorts and boots. How come they are not sitting in the seats watching while we show them how it should be done.

“It is the job of the coach, “ she reminded me.

I had to tell her that we all thought we could do his job better too.

We smiled at that.

The team just never got going. Simple as.

OK so it is the last game of the season, but I was hoping for a bit of fire, a bit of pride. To send us all home happy and looking forward to next season. Instead a lacklustre performance. Even by recent standards. Maybe this was one game too many.

Either way Colchester won one – nil. The goal, something of a freak when James Chambers clearance rebounded into the net off Craig Eastmond. Their fans at least were happy.

Towards the end the almost-inevitably too-formal request for fans to keep off the pitch when the game ended. The players would leave the arena, then return to show their appreciation for our support. Also inevitably, given the performance the shout from the fan in the stand

“What? Think anybody’s going to left here do you?”

And: “If it means we don’t have to see this lot again, let’s get on the pitch now.”

All very droll of course.

But the early “pitch-invasion (if two drunken yobs can actually invade anything) was roundly boo-ed and properly so.

We left and very quickly before the final whistle, got on the road and back to the hotel, staying for a drink with our guests. They can go home and tell their friends they have been to an English football game, showing their souvenirs and photos taken with our mascot, genuinely touched by the real community nature of our little club – if not the skills shown on the field of play  today.

The beginning of that T.S. Eliot poem?

I

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece filled with straw.

Alas! Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

Or rats’ feet over broken glass

In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,

Paralysed force, gesture without motion.

 

 

image: bescotbanter