By Rail to The Railwaymen: Crewe Away

I’m on my way back from my evening German class (trying to learn the language once again!) and, suddenly remembering that West Brom (Premier league) are playing at League One Peterborough in an F.A. Cup replay this evening, turn on the radio to find the game has gone into extra time.

Back home, I grab a lager, swing upstairs and turn on the TV that is conveniently part of the computer. Play is just beginning …

… and I am not sure which team I want to lose (never mind win). WBA are just down the road and, while it’s always good to have a “giant killing” I don’t really (illogically) want Peterborough to steal any League One glory. So I just settle for watching the game; and it really isn’t much of a spectacle. But tense enough that I need something to snack on, so I drag out the very last (twenty or so) walnuts we bought to eat over Christmas and, well, finish ‘em off. On the TV the commentator is gibbering; I hear

“ … and now anything could happen …”

I think what? Like an alien chest burster could emerge from the chest of the referee?

Donald Trump could get a decent haircut, rather than the oh-so-obvious, ridiculous comb-over he now adopts?

Elvis will, finally reveal his whereabouts and announce that he has been busy finding a cure for all that ails mankind?

Amazing how walnuts can stir the imagination eh? In real life meanwhile eventually, and ingloriously, Albion sneak by on penalties: just about!

I have booked a train ticket from Rugeley to Crewe (hoping I have got the time (and station) correct). This Saturday’s trip is planned to be a “beer-and- train” trip to relegation-fight regulars Crewe Alexandra. Three points needed to bring back some confidence and momentum. It is the first of three big games (aren’t they all when you’re second and going hell-for-leather for automatic promotion?): Crewe away, On-a-charge- Wigan at home, then top-of-the-table (as at time of writing) Burton Albion away (ticket also secured).

The sheep getting sorted from the chaff. Well something like that anyway.

And, sure enough, arrangements made and modified there are four of us tipping out of Saddlers Widow’s blue car at around ten of the ay em on a bright Saturday morning. Rugeley Trent Valley Station; pretty bleak but several impressively tilting expresses thunder and whistle through. The automatic ticket machine is not working so, clutching my piece of paper I chat to a dad and his young son: they are en route to Everton v Albion. There’s a lad in a Wolves top and someone else in a Birmingham city scarf. (later on the journey a rowdy crew, possibly Stoke fans) bring unnecessarily crude language, poor fashion and volume into the carriage. An insight into both railways and traditional Saturday football fans of the more traditional type: travelling in hope, expectation or packs – but travelling. Not. Just. Sitting. At home. Watching on TV!

The train is delayed. My brother has failed to hear his alarm, but Chris is on board now. So we relax, there are Spanish and Indian beers and the train does its job. Not a ticket inspector in sight. Stoke, Kidsgrove, rolling over the Cheshire plains, puddled and flooded green fields, the canal (presumably the Trent and Mersey?)

We talk of families, maps, books, New York and why don’t we do this train thing more often.

Then we are waiting somewhere outside Crewe station, before gently rolling in. No need to rustle about looking for parking, just amble off the carriage, along the long, covered platform and out. To try and locate the much researched pub. What was it called? The Imperial Hotel (on Eddlestone Road) has been search engine to death by the technologically ept among us: and the eleven minute walk, zigging and zagging round perpendicular corners we spy it. Perfect landing place: plenty of space at 11.55, wall to wall TVs, a small stage for regular music events and warm sunshine filtering in the clean windows.

We get beers in (Pedigree for me: echoes of Burton?) and start the drinking. Man Utd go goal behind (to Sunderland) over my shoulder but the screen I’m watching has QPR v Fulham on it.

 

Just after I have ordered minimalist but it-is-what-it-says-it-is food Andy tips up: he’s spending a romantic weekend in Chester (eleven locomotive minutes away) and we settle to eat (burger and chips/pizza) and the good atmosphere sinking in.

The tiny ground is packed when we get there; a mass of saddlers fans in the miniscule, poor view low-roofed “away” end.

And we kick off a storm! In the first ten minutes we could have been three nil up – if our shooting had been better and luck on our side. Bradshaw is back in and doing the front-man job, linking well with Sawyers. Etheridge back in goals (though Roberts had a steady debut last week).

The first goal is a little crazy and due to Sawyers’ reputation: the defender marking him sticking out a hand to knock the ball away (in the way a tyrannosaurus might) and we have a penalty. Tom Bradshaw, cool as you like, puts it away and we expect a goal rush.

 

Expect? But don’t get one: Crewe managing to keep us at bay until half time, when it is decided we should all move to the end “where the goals will be” and take up new positions: only to lose them to people returning from pie-shopping and the toilets.

Second half has us sitting by a family who are clearly passionate but know so little about playing football (too much time on computer football games?) or simple psychology.

Every shout is in the “You-are-brilliant” mode or the extreme opposite (and every shout is for a Walsall player. Do these people think that Andy Taylor goes out, for example, not to play well?

I am pleased to see Lalkovic back in the side, but his runs and jinks have little real impact.Matt Preston is at centre back for stalwart James O’Connor –and he plays well: he looks solid and is dependable if a little lacking in pace.

Crewe equalise – the other end of course – and the game sparkles to life in the last ten minutes or so when we press just a little bit harder, but fail to make it count.

 

The train on the way back is less packed than I imagined and we change at Stafford. Our lift is ready and waiting at the station … and Gillingham have overtaken us (though we have a game in hand). Burton still surprising people by winning, winning, winning … oh but they ain’t played us yet; right?

Distracted? After the Event?; Crewe Alexandra at home

Home

Sunday, 27^th September

Have you ever been driving (for example); a routine journey, regular route … and suddenly been aware that you don’t remember the past couple of junctions?

Did you give way at the roundabout?

Were the traffic lights really green back there? Or did some poor, unfortunate innocent soul have to throw out the anchors and take drastic evasive action?

Apparently this happens when your nervous system takes over, taking automatic (autonomic care of all the mundane decisions). It is monitored by other systems, I was told by someone who spoke with authority on the subject, and if anything out of the ordinary occurred you would be immediately switched back in to make unexpected adjustments.

So, I’m driving – usual route to the usual parking space – past Walsall Arboretum, looking quite resplendent now that autumn’s colours are dropping in … past the turn that is signposted “Walsall F.C. Bescot Stadium” and, turning off I notice – for the first time ever that this road is named Alexandra Road. I notice this on the day we are playing Crewe Alexandra: how weird is that?

And Who decided to name the Club Crewe Alexandra? Why? For one of Queen Victoria’s children?

After my rant at the opening of my last post here I was talking about the Chelsea game yesterday, and about Costa’s outrageous behaviour on a field of play I was told that the late Brian Clough (he of Derby County and Nottingham Forest fame – and Leeds United infamy) had once stated (he never suggested as I remember it – and never expected discussion or countering opinions) that yellow cards, bookings, red cards and sendings-off were a nonsense. The solution, he said was when a player misbehaved on the pitch; fine the manager. The managers would then make sure that the fouling and bending of the laws were ended. I like that for an idea.

But Jose “the Special One” Mourinho was fulsome in his praise of Walsall, of the philosophy, of the approach, the style, the skills, particularly o Romaine sawyers – and the missing Tom Bradshaw. We thank him for his grace on this occasion, for his insight and compliments. The cynic inside me, however wants to say that he was chattering way about the Saddlers because he simply did not want to answer the questions he was asked about Costa … but, hey what do I know?

I know that Dean Smith made a lot of the fact that the Chelsea game would not distract us from the league campaign, that he made a bold decision in not starting Bradshaw – who is back in the line-up today. Anything else, let’s see what happens eh?

Well, it happens pretty quickly –and it is marvellous. Crewe let Tom Bradshaw have a free header at a near post corner and, three minutes into the game, the buoyant saddlers fans are happily singing

“We are top of the league, we are top of the league …” and everything is going to be just swell.

 

Until, after seventeen minutes it isn’t. From a free kick Crewe, second from bottom when we kicked off, equalise and go on to give us a few frights.

Etherington in goals – for the first time this season has a few hard, offended, what-was-that? stares at defenders. Sam Mantom is playing in front of the defence and Chambers – who usually looks so comfortable in exactly that position is pushing forwards. It doesn’t work that way round. At least not this afternoon. Mantom looks out of place and off the pace. The sun beams down and we have shot after shot: few of them on target and even fewer challenging the Crewe keeper, until the last wild abandoned scurrying about as we try and grab the winner, when a couple of fierce drives come back off the bar. A couple of professional scouts sitting nearby pass a knowing look between them. One leans over to me:

“Don’t matter what you do,” he sighs, knowingly “you’ll not get another goal this day.”

Dammit; he’s on the money.

True enough perhaps that we weren’t distracted in the lead up to the Chelsea game, but did we just fall for the sucker-trap that comes after the event; believing in the hype that followed. Crewe didn’t look that sound, but at the death nearly got the three points: plucky side (that’s lucky with a p) who need to get a run going.

We just need to win more games at home; but are still second.

The big football news over the weekend has been focussed around Sepp Blatter (the very name sounds like a joke) and the move on Friday by the Swiss attorney general who opened criminal proceedings against Blatter, 79. The ethics committee is already looking into the circumstances of a payment of two million Swiss francs (£1.35m) that Platini received in 2011 for work said to have been carried out more than nine years previously, reported the Press Association.

Blatter, not surprisingly denies wrongdoing. His lawyer says he is co-operating fully.

The ethics committee is looking into the circumstances of a payment of two million Swiss francs (£1.35m) that Platini received in 2011 for work said to have been carried out more than nine years previously, reported the Press Association.

On Saturday evening I began to watch the Rugby Union World Cup pool game between England and Wales at Twickenham. I have neither history in the game nor particular love of the egg-shaped ball and find the rules confusing but I do have a high regard for the way the players respond promptly and obediently when decisions are given. I also like the way the game has seized upon TV replay technology … but for this match there is also the added needle of a “derby game”.

England with superior strength bossed most of the game (mind you I did turn over to watch Dr Who: sorry rugby: loyalty is loyalty after all) and Wales, team undermined by crucial injuries before the competition have several players injured during this game but show remarkable passion and determination and end up as winners. The hopes of England now getting beyond these group stages become suddenly undone. Still in it, but wobbling!

There will be games played at Villa Park, just down the road – and the cash boost to the local economy is said to be in the “millions”.

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.

Carried Away? (Crewe Away)

A wonderfully stretched out couple of days in Suffolk, with a stop off on the way: Aldeburgh, Dunwich Heath, Minsmere, an evening river cruise and meal on board the Lady Florence (out of Orford Quay) and Framlingham Castle. Beautifully warm weather, even on the North Sea coast.

Long delays and an ad-libbed sat-nav free detour on the way back, avoiding rush hour traffic on the M6 (phew, had been dreading that!)

A good night’s sleep and a stroll to the butchers, then home and en route to Crewe in a BMW. Quiet, scenic roads through some fine agricultural landscapes. Looking for a pub to have lunch. The state-of-the-art sat-nav just went round in boggling circles: yes there was  a menu listing for “pubs”, but press it and – er, what – no pubs! No matter how many times we tried

Back to the Mark One Eyeball and, at just the right place was the Cheshire Cheese. Trainee barmaid challenged by the pouring of draught Spanish lager, but managed to get it right (“wrist action and angle my dear”). A brief exchange of phone and text messages with the Crewe supporting author of One Hundred and One Grounds for Divorce. He is also going to the game.

Sure enough the ground was less than a country mile beyond, past the railway bridge and piles of soil that suggest new building development coming soon. Parked easily enough on the car park adjacent to the ground; one of the few still surrounded closely by housing and a “Horticultural Engineer’s” shop, with windows of lawn cutting equipment. It feels traditional but also old-fashioned and cramped because the houses have only small – or no – front gardens. There is a tall, imposing modern stand (steeply tiered as I recall from a previous visit) … and the rather quaint, cramped away end. Where we will be – of course!

There is a friendly message at the side of the ticket office window thanking Walsall fans “for travelling the 48 miles to see the game …” and wishing us a safe journey home afterwards. The young men in front of us try a bit of banter and to get away with paying student rates (discounted)

“Come on,” he wheedles, “I’ m at university … doin’ a masters,”

His mates laugh, the ticket seller asks, with a smile what he is studying. He is quick with a reply:

“Economics,” but he knows he’s failed and pays the full price (£22) with a big grin.

It is typical of confident fans, after a few beers and enjoying the sunshine. And of course we all have high hopes after Tuesday’s magical performance.

Crewe are in a tight spot: with Yeovil already definitely relegated Crewe need wins and goals.

Richard O’Donnell has been key in our games this season – after a few shaky games at the beginning of the season, playing behind a defence that has kept clean sheets despite heavy pressure and lack of goals at the other end. He hasn’t signed a new contract yet – and the “choir” encourage him to stay. He avoids looking in our direction I notice. In the end, all talk of loyalty is transitory; these players are living short term lives, the money that they can make at football clubs will have, inevitably a significant impact on their lives – and loyalty is a two way thing; there are  no guarantees from the clubs to players. I hope that we can offer him enough (clean sheet bonuses, appearance fees … whatever) as he has become a mainstay of our team. But he will be being advised by his “agent” and I wish him luck.

Until Tuesday evening we were overly dependent on our defence to get us safely through games while at the other end, the important and exciting end of the field simply not scoring. We are close to the end of the season now and, hopefully Dean Smith – or whoever is managing the team will be able to use money from our Wembley adventures to boost the strike force. Smith has aid in the papers that budget is set by the amount of “early bird” season tickets sold. Really? What about that money from the JPT run?

Tuesday night, I am hoping as we clamber into seats beneath the corrugated roof, was a turning point. The way that we played seemed more free, more open and, yes more attack-minded. Please let it continue …

We are wearing our “Wembley colours”, not necessarily a good omen. The game has barely started and Crewe are manic, fast and pushing up, crowding the Walsall players. In so doing one of their team slides through Rom Sawyers, but is injured in the process: a long hold up. Crewe keep up the pressure, three strikers giving chase to everything that’s lumped up the field. In one attack they get a break (no offside flag) and score: Haber with a powerful header. We manage to limp through to half time with our players looking short of ideas under such harassment. Tom Bradshaw is having to drop further back to get the ball and there are a lot of poor passes which get picked up by the energetic Crewe team. In their fight to avoid relegation they are determined and running the ball down, which is the right way to set about it.

Generally poor support from the home fans, but we are stuck right next to the noisy elements of Saddlers folk. It is humorous and loud – if not tuneful, with every player getting at least one name check.

Second half Crewe continue to apply pressure, energy levels still high. But we show some mettle and make a number of raids, pressing further up field. Hiwula gets the range, but it is Bradshaw, working his heart out as, always, that gets the break.  A loose ball ends up at Bradshaw’s feet. After the ball is in the net we look at each other: how did he manage that?

We step up at this point, so close to the end and dominate. But too late to win the game and get the full three points  that would see us safe for another season.

A one all draw; better for us than for Crewe, but neither of us is mathematically safe – yet.

The general election, unsurprisingly is the  main talk of news and media at the moment. Trouble is none of the parties is looking like an outright winner. Each of them concentrating on destroying the latest policies or speeches from their opponents and putting forward their own which lack any details of where the money to pay for these schemes will come from. Great idea to spend more money on the National health Service for example, but where will it come from. Maybe we have actually got to the stage where a coalition government is the best option for democracy. With the rise in status of both the Plaid Cymru and the Scottish Nationalist Party bound to change the shades of political decisions in the near and further future maybe we should have issues decided on an issue by issue basis. Maybe then Members of Parliament would consider the needs of their own constituencies rather than the party line.

This weekend – on a sadder note – a remembrance service ahs been held to commemorate all who lost their lives – and the families affected – in the Germanwings plane crash.

What’s In A Word: Drone?

 

Earlier this week high drama at an international Euro qualifier match being played in Belgrade, Serbia against Albania violence erupted; first on the field of play, then involving spectators. Because of tremendous political enmity between the two teams Albanian fans were banned from the game. However, a drone (pilotless remote controlled flying machine carrying an Albanian flag entered the airspace above the players. One of the Serbian defenders, Stefan Mitrovic, ripped the flag from the machine and the Albanian players – offended perhaps by this abuse of their national banner – attacked the defender. The situation worsened. The experienced English referee, Martin Atkinson, lead the teams off the pitch. On the way off players continued to scuffle and fans also joined in. Thirty minutes later, with Albanian players stating that they were in no emotional state to continue, the game was called off.

 

 

Even if it was misguided, this is passion eh?

It’s been a busy week with wet weather and a visit to the Black Country Living Museum – thankfully in fine autumn sunshine.

… and swapping short text messages with a Mark Savage, author of e-book 120 Grounds for Divorce. We were trying to make arrangements to hook up before the game. I offered canned soup, bread and cheese at our house, he responded with The Saddlers Club at 2.15. No competition there then?

So my brother drifted in with fully lubricated Alfa Romeo (plus two new tyres on the front) and off we spun. Sun happily shining down and filled with the wonderful enthusiasm that’ll get the best of supporters when you know you are playing against the bottom team who are conceding goals at the rate of about three a game. So far that is.

This being me, I waltzed straight past the paying desk in the club and was about to be dragged to the ground by a reluctant but-still-burly security guy … before his feet could leave the ground I had slowed and turned to see my brother (cheers mate) paying my dues. I think the security man was also relieved.

 

Over to the bar, chatter pouring between us. They now have Febian Brandy – a one time rescue project and agile hit man loanee for us – playing for them (on loan from Rotherham). Have no doubt that he should have stayed at Bescot, but equally have no issues with him gong for the money he was certainly promised at Championship Rotherham… but not looking forward to his raiding runs against our defence – even with iron man Andy Butler there (for perhaps his last game for us; he being on loan from Sheffield United (ironically our November opponents in the next round of the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy – to be televised apparently).

 I ordered a pint from a tap displaying a label saying “Golden Ale” but even as I watched it being poured I knew it was no such thing. The bar man didn’t seem to understand …

“What? You think the label on it tells you what it’s going to be?”

Then a quick dash across the car park, up the stairs, through the Bonser Suite to meet the others. Walsall sat back in the first half. Cook the lone man up front – I am disappointed by this especially when we have so many forwards. Sawyers playing a blinder, energetic, challenging and physical: really up for it. So good to see. Ben Purkiss in at right back, Taylor (out with a sickness bug last weekend) as left back and Benning on the left wing. Crewe playing a wide attack, using the wingers a lot and attempting to push up and catch our players off-side.

A comedy moment when Richard O’Donnell saved well and the ball bounced off different bits of his body, between his legs before he got it under control. Well, I say comedy … could have gone seriously wrong.

Flanagan had an exceptional game – guess he’ll be a star of the future – but ran himself into the ground and was duly substituted (Billy Clifford) in the second half which Saddlers started aggressively. Why oh why can’t we start games like that?

Manset came on, but this meant Cook was pushed out to the wing leaving us again with only one striker up front. Go figure, I have this fantasy about how well this pair – or Manset and Bradshaw – would play together in a 4 – 4 – 2. And Baxendale came on. But it was like some kind of shadow boxing, like watching one team play itself, with a lot of lateral passing and skill, but little attack and woefully few shots on goal. Either way.

In the stand we talked about preparations for the family bonfire, going to Crawley on Tuesday, why home fans boo-ed former players (in this case Brandy) and storylines in the classic Eagle comics. Of course there was also banter and work-talk.

But Walsall just couldn’t make the direct approach – perhaps because this is not possible with a target man alone. So there were passages of marvellous passing – from both teams actually, but little passion.

Until our defenders failed to clear a corner on eighty four minutes and Crewe centre half Dugdale stuck the ball in the net.

Crewe fans went wild – of course they did! – and they held out until the final whistle. Of course they did.

Now we are in the relegation zone and trouble is a wolf knocking on the door, while we listen to a different kind of drone in the media. About how the players and management are frustrated and upset and just cannot seem to score goals. Excuse me: whose job is it to sort that out?

Crewe (home)

11^th March, 2014

Morning TV reminds us all today is the first day of the Cheltenham Festival (that’s horse racing) and that, last year there was snow and the track was frozen hard. It is also singing the praises of our athlete’s at the Paralympic games in Sochi. Jade Etherington and Kelly Gallagher winning our first Paralympic “on-snow” medals for their courage in taking on ski-ing while being partially sighted. That’s courage! Our two curling teams are doing well too, it seems. The new one for me is called, I think sledge hockey, and looks like a violent version of the original rollerball film. Disabled players on sledges with ice-hockey style sticks and a puck. Have to try and watch one of the games.

No snow here, this time around. Blue skies, sunshine after early fog and, after a day up at the allotments – mostly it seems shifting slabs –  my body is aching and part of me just wants to curl up in the foetal position in a dark room. The M6 is closed somewhere nearby and that causes knock-on problems for local traffic. As well then that, a bit obsessive perhaps, I set off with plenty of time to spare. A more-than-usual amount of Walsall fans are on the radio and one of them, tempting fate, suggests that after all of the recent defeats Crewe might be in for “a tanking”. Strange how that sent a shiver up my spine. Easily finding a parking spot – my traditional one – I get just a little cold walking to the ground. I don’t rush, there is plenty of time. I’m not queuing to collect a ticket. This one was bought as part of a link-up deal with the Wolves game.

Towering above us, and more importantly the M6, is what was (maybe still is?) Europe’s largest road-side electronic advertising hoarding … and it is advertising forthcoming events at Bescot (but not the matches) and switches to an ad about gas boilers featuring  our captain Andy Butler who is training to be a plumber when his footballing days are over at Walsall college. Gas boilers advertised on an electronic sign: ironic perhaps?

Turnstile staff are, as usual cheerful. But the ground is markedly empty. Two coach loads of hardy Crewe (the Alex) fans stir about in the roof of the Family Stand, but Walsall supporters are like patches of colour and slow-motion movement scattered about elsewhere.

This journal was born as a result of Crewe Alexandra. Mark Savage, a relative of some remove (I never was much good at remembering family links) is a died-in-the –head Crewe supporter. Son of my great-auntie’s oldest daughter (you work it out). Last couple of seasons we’ve headed in to see them, eaten lunch and drunk tea together and taken in the game.

Mark sent me a text saying he couldn’t make this game. Then another saying he had had a book published on Amazon called A Hundred and Twenty Grounds for Divorce. It’s apparently about the break-up of his marriage, subsequent events and his ambition to visit every Football League ground. I mean to buy it (at 77p it’s got to be worth it eh?) But, I thought Hmmm, slightly different but give it a try.

Hence this journal. Thanks Mark. I think.

The two teams are warming up well before kick-off. Nobody could fault our levels of fitness this year anyway. The colours look clean and fresh and the playing surface has been well maintained, looking green and even. Our goalkeeping coach has a fierce shot on him as he’s trying to warm up keeper Richard O’Donnell. And there’s us in need of a striker!

The game starts slowly and never gets going in the first half. We’re trying to be patient, passing the ball across the back a lot, then up, then back again. It is painful to watch but at least we’re not losing as we go in. And they’ve had two players booked. There is the ridiculous pantomime of stewards asking to see season tickets as we drift into the lounge. Not sure what the point is when the ground is so damned empty and letting everyone in might mean we sell a few more beers.

Talk about the planned “stag night” trip. It was going to be Tallinn, now, it seems there is some doubt. Accompanying the father of the groom I am keen to know exactly what responsibilities I will have. Keeping the party out of fights with other groups?

Second half and suddenly we are losing. Crewe looked better than us in the first half, although we could have pretended we were playing a patient passing game waiting to play the killer ball and slam four or five goals in.

Really ?? Well we can dream can’t we?

We seem to liven up a bit then and there are chances at both ends. Substitutions. Lalkovic on, Ngoo on. On loan from Liverpool he is apparently an England under 21 striker … must wonder as he is warming up in front of such a small crowd what his future holds. He tries hard enough and has a fierce shot bent around the near post. But for all our pressure we are getting nowhere, rarely testing their keeper in fact.

Then there’s a searching Lalkovic cross, missed by all the Walsall players up there and planted perfectly into the net by a Crewe defender. Seems for moment that he’s the only one who believes it.

 

Then the ref’s whistle: the  cue  the manic, mighty – some might say edge-of-desperation roar from the now-enthusiastic Saddlers fan and the gallop to a 1-1 draw.

Incidentally the whole Ukraine/Russia situation is no longer big news. Doesn’t mean it has been resolved of course.

 

Photosource:Walsall Advertiser