Springing Eternal: Fleetwood at home.

Saturday, 1^st May.

The very first Staffordshire Day. We are hailed, in local promotional stuff as the “creative county”, but nobody was creating much of a hoo-hah for this day. Something big going on in Stoke – which, at one point wanted to leave Staffordshire and become a unitary authority. Something happening at Rudyard Lake, A video message from Robbie Williams (born and raised in Burslem) …

Anything else?

Oh yeah a couple of minutes on the local news TV channel.

Reginald Mitchell anyone? Josiah Wedgwood, Cannock Chase? Staffordshire Moorlands? the highest pub in England (Flash)?The Staffordshire Hoard?

Tamworth, once capital of Mercia? Lichfield?

Nah … nobody seemed too bothered to be honest.

Shame, we need a bit of self-promotion, putting on the said map. But we have lots of houses flying Black Country flags – as if we haven’t got a bona fide Staffordshire one!

Weather poor: some thunder – and me hoping to influence the Burton Albion score by avoiding all contact with commentaries and results. I managed it too, but the Brewers still snatched a last minute winner to beat Gillingham 2 – 1.

Meaning we need to win our next two games to get automatic promotion!

And did I mention Burton have to lose – and the goal difference must swing in our favour by some five goals.

So, setting out for the 12.15 kick off we all know what we need to do today. Lose and we are in the play offs. Win and we take it to the last league match at Port Vale! Get some goals in the bag and we’re putting pressure on the team up the A38!

Now the game was rearranged to fit in with Live Sky TV so the whole circus is across the car park: cables, outside broadcast vans – and a diversion around the safety fencing. Large boas of cables run alongside the stadium walls and once inside – how could I forget – there is a camera scaffolding next to our delegated seats.

But first a sausage bap and a pint of Stella in the lounge; link up with Cully and Andy: both fed up with the razzamatazz about Leicester City – almost but not yet – winning the premier league title. Me? I’m happy that a different team will be in the spotlight – not a fashionable team. And a manager, Claudio Ranieri, with charm and enthusiasm – and quiet, sparkling passion.

We stroll out, squeeze along the narrow channel behind the last row of seats to our seats, scowl at the camera and unsettle a couple nearby. They may not have the right seats? Correct: the lady is sitting in my actual seat; but the seats are not so precious so we smile and make them welcome. Their first visit to Walsall, they are down from Paisley in Scotland: football fans who, last time they were down this way, went to a Wolves game. I tell them this is bound to be a far better experience. They are St Mirren fans – and we exchange a bit of banter.

We kick off – and two minutes later fast raiding full back- come-winger Jason Demetriou slings the ball across and Tom Bradshaw turns it first time into the net.

We are stunned: two minutes barely gone and we are one goal up!

If we can win three nil, then beat Port Vale by one goal and Burton lose by a goal at Doncaster – we are promoted automatically … oh the permutations!

But we are hardly a free scoring team at this stage, so sit back and watch.

But we are cracking shots in! Winning corners – and Romaine Sawyers is in the box for one, having a good push-shove go with a defender, before peeling away, leaving Paul Downing to side foot a cool one into the net. Eighteen minutes gone.

On the side line Fleetwood manager is going through a whole aerobics work-out, signalling, bending, living the game ball by ball: more effort from him in his skin tight trackie bottoms than from his players who are being out run and out thought in front of his eyes.

Fleetwood is a seaside town, a few miles north of Blackpool. In the league they are also neighbours: Fleetwood, two points clear of Blackpool, but both struggling to avoid the drop. As we watch, it is easy to see why.

One advantage of having the telly cameras here is that, after each goal a replay is shown on the score board screen. Thank goodness we are winning then.

At half time we retire inside. All being well we may not be back again this season, although we have our passes and season tickets ready for next season. But which teams will we be playing?

We are a decent little club honest and hard working. Held back by a small budget, but fired up with confidence and able to take teams on at this level. A season in the championship will ,doubtless see us struggle to win. But if we could just hang on, get the better of a few teams, spring a few surprises – what we could d o in a second season.

And how attractive we might be for players to come to – on free transfers, on loan.

Hold o n; stop dreaming. One game at a time. There is work to do here. here and now.

But this is an excellent team performance, only young Kieron Morris looking out of it; perhaps because he is being played inside rather than on the wing. Ford and Demetriou meshing nicely. On the other wing Henry and Lalkovic too.

Sawyers is having an effective game – and he links well, running into space and, from outside the penalty box whacks a low shot into the inside of the net, just inside the post. Three nil.

There are a few Fleetwood fans here and about six thousand Saddlers fans, getting behind this magical performance. We dare to dream: three nil: a near perfect score. All that has to happen now is we win by a goal at Port Vale and Burton Albion lose their final away game at Doncaster – and we are up; promoted automatically without the need for the play-off tensions and dramas.

There is the standard announcement about not invading the pitch at the end of the game … the players want to show their appreciation but will not be doing that if fans encroach on the playing area…

And then, dammit, Fleetwood have the nerve to score. Quite how the ball gets into the net, nobody, least of all any Walsall player seems to know. Etheridge looks shocked …

But we had gone off the boil, unusually.

And, at the final whistle a few enthusiastic fans dodge the stewards most are sensible enough to stay off the pitch and, of course, the players come out and pose for selfies, sign autographs.

I head out via the Savoy Lounge … but decide to wait for ten minutes or so for a sudden downpour to pass. I am not sure how long the players stay out on the pitch in this.

Then I am soon scooting home in my car. The drama continues …

Meanwhile Leicester City become champions by default: Tottenham only drawing against Chelsea means they cannot catch up on points by the end of the season.

Leicester deserve respect, of course. Five thousand to one outsiders to win the League back when the season started they have shown marvellous spirit and team work. Please let some of that rub off on us (as I dare say supporters of all teams are whispering just as I am).

Colds and the Cod Army (Fleetwood Away)

Three days after the away match at Fleetwood – a game I would have loved to have gone to by the way – I am beginning to feel human, or as near to it as is possible for a dyed-in-the-wool Saddlers fan.

But Tuesday (remember I wasn’t feeling too good even then) and the shockingly poor show at Shrewsbury made me stop and think. Seriously.  Yes, OK it would have been a new ground to visit (Fleetwood newly promoted to League One at the end of last season and indeed only got League status the season before). But the dreaded ‘lurgy I’m carrying has robbed me of sleep and drained me of energy. I’m constantly coughing – so much so that I don’t even notice I’m doing it any more … and there was the cheese and wine thingy that had to be attended: me being one of the organisers and all. And, did I mention the shocking display against Shrewsbury?

Being something of a man of course I kept thinking I’ll be OK. Just one more night’s sleep – a proper one, like and I’ll be fine. But nagging away in the back of whatever grey matter I might possess was the fact that I needed – for every good reason under the sun – to get to a funeral on Monday afternoon. Stewart Staples. Long time friend. Long time Walsall fan. Long time good guy.

So, when on Saturday morning I wasn’t up and about leaping impatiently I decided (finally!) to get some medical advice. The Lem-Sips had failed, the Strepsils hadn’t touched it, new politically correct Benylin (non-drowsy) failed  – and I even heard myself telling the on-duty pharmacist I would not be trying the (old-fashioned “do not operate machines after taking this as you may be affected by drowsiness”) Benylin.

So I rang 111. Busy … “to use  ring back please press 5 …”

Which I did. One hour later and no response. I tried again. and again. then I listened on after I had pressed the numeral 5 to hear  a message “this service does not use ringback …”

Eventually I got through. Answered some interesting but largely irrelevant questions: a flow chart I imagine … if the patient answers yes then ask …

I waited for the service to ring me back with a considered opinion.

They did. I should attend my doctor’s out of hours surgery based at Walsall Manor Hospital.

Parking was free. Waiting was fairly endless. Triaged after an hour and a half, sitting with various other patients watching mind-numbing TV showing the qualifying routines of the final Formula One race of the season. Lewis Hamilton, driving a Mercedes, would have the championship wrapped up. But in this last race – for some reason which I have no doubt is to do with money, this last race has double points – and he might not win it after all. I am no fan of Formula One. It is not a race in the way that I understand racing to be. Rather a succession of queues and overtaking while in the pits – or penalty times added on to finishing times.

 

 

Anyway, the wait gave me chance to read on the book for Reading Group: And Then We Came to the End (Joshua Ferris). And people watch. Unfairly – for me – a lot of people waiting to be seen were being diverted from the Accident and Emergency department. Including one guy in a wheelchair. The ambulance drivers checked him in. I know they did. I watched them do it. Then left him. Forty five minutes later the receptionist noticed he had a canula in his hand and gave him some kind of mild third degree. Fair enough, he had turned around to watch the rugby game that followed the F1 revealing his hand perhaps for the first time. Half an hour after that when it was finally his turn to be seen he was asked if he could “walk through”, which he couldn’t and told that, in that case he could not be admitted.  I lost track of the time, lost track of the plot and finally got told that I had a viral infection. That it would clear itself up. That I could help only by taking painkillers.

The wait had been instructive as it was frustrating. I had a chance to observe the very worst of the NHS. Operating incredibly inefficiently while trying to do the best for everyone. It is not working!

But, by the time I reached home the game was at half time, the radio announced. And Walsall one goal up! Romaine Sawyers! Walsall dominating the play! This is the topsy-turvy world of being a Walsall supporter: losing against lower league opposition and performing dismally one day – and within he week threatening to end a nine month home unbeaten run of a very successful team like Fleetwood. Fleetwood is in Lancashire and they are known as the Fishermen (their fans the Cod Army apparently). Their home ground is Highbury (the same name as Arsenal’s former ground). I kept an ear open with the radio blasting away, but when the regular interview with Dean Smith came on I drifted off to sleep (sorry Dean). But that’s a good win. When I later watch the goal on You-Tube (courtesy of Sky Sports) – the highlights are about ninety seconds – we do look good. The goal comes from good forward play, Cook in the middle holding up the ball which runs loose for Sawyers to knock it into the net. Actually it looks as if he doesn’t hit it cleanly – but, hey I’ll take any goal that gets us points and position.

Next week we are away at Coventry City. Will I be recovered by then? I certainly hope so; this has been dogging me for long enough thank you.

Also worthy of note: England ladies Football team made their Wembley debut, losing to Germany. Shameful that they haven’t played at Wembley before!

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