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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.

(Leyton) Orient … Home

22^nd March, 2014

Started off the day with a shopping trip. Sainsbury’s. To pick up a few things that will help me next week in Austria. I am going to take something I will call an “English Easter” to a school in Upper Austria. Long story behind it breaks down into my work in two previous European Union funded education projects and a lasting friendship with a teacher there. She became a head. Her sister works in another school and asked if I would do something similar at her school. There is something I find relaxing about the scenery and people there. Pace of life is steady; people take an interest in you and the children are keen to learn … and – at least – pretend to understand my rarely spoken German.

Now I am not famous for going back to places. Cromer and St Johann/St Peter and Walsall Football Club being the notable exceptions.

There is, of course, some trepidation in me. I will be travelling alone. A flight from Birmingham to Frankfurt and on to Linz. A small airport in Upper Austria about which the locals say staff know your name if you use the place twice. Don’t laugh, it may well be true. The arrangements are over. I have some Power Point presentations on a memory stick and I am ready to give it a go. “To keep your heart young and fit, “ it was said once on BBC Radio 4 you should do something each day that scares you. Maybe this will qualify. New school. Teachers I do not know (yet) and flying.

No replies to my texts asking if my brother would be going to the game today and while, coincidentally bumped-into-and-talking with another former European-schools project partner (mid-aisle, Sainsbury’s) Cully rings.

We arrange for him to pick me up and we’ll go get a beer. Then another call. My brother. Sorry, can’t go, but will get the tickets for next Saturday (home versus Shrewsbury).

Cully needs to borrow a coat, he’s driven across the sleet and hail storms on Cannock Chase and thinks he won’t be warm enough. No worries. He happily borrows my “avalanche coat” – the one with a transmitter that’s activated by (I am not quite sure, but) avalanches, being buried perhaps, so that tracking teams can find, can find, can find – well the coat obviously … hopefully with me inside it, warm, unbroken and laughing off the battering.

A pint at the Wheatsheaf, Great Wyrley: scene of many over-the-years pre and post-match beers. We talk about comics, football, how would you design a house from scratch (well – go on – how would you?), lighting fires, evolution, did I mention football ?

Good companionable talk and then climbing into the car and zipping to the game. The weather is so changeable: by the time we can see the field the skies are blue and the playing surface looks marvellously green: credit to the ground staff. A mutual friend, Gerry is there.

Leyton Orient. Where do clubs get their names from? Why Orient? Best guess is that it is in the East End of London. I know that the stadium is not so far from the enormous Olympic Park that was constructed on contaminate, completely undeveloped ground for the 2012 games. West Ham will be buying the rebuilt ground where the stadium is although there was some typically-bullish talk about Leyton Orient taking it on. In the end, and sensibly, they just couldn’t afford the financial commitment. Also intriguing is that, early on in the First World War over forty players and staff from the club joined a local regiment. There was – kind-of – farewell parade which followed the last game of the season (20,000 people attended the match).

As of twenty-first century now, they are well placed to be in the play-offs, might even sneak automatic promotion –and they are playing at Bescot today.

We kick off and it’s straight down to impressive business. Busy, probing. My eye is taken by Lalkovic and Brandy, but Sam Mantom is back from a three game suspension. We take the upper hand quickly. Sawyers looking relaxed, Westcarr, as usual at the moment, seems a little off the pace. We mount attack after attack and, as is often the case we are wondering aloud how they can be in such a good table-topping position … and we are not! I guess every supporter of every team knows this feeling.

We are kicking towards our own fans, full back Andy Taylor getting forward often and effectively. We’re overloading their right back, pushing up. Passing well, finding players. Neat, tidy. More shots than usual … Lalkovic, Brandy, Sawyers and our earlier talk in the pub about being “found-out” as a one-strategy team seems like wasted words. The Orient defence are under pressure. The ball screws in to the middle from a corner. It seems like slow motion: the ball spinning slowly almost still on the spot and everyone, everyone just gawping at it. Then Paul Downing is there and batters it into the net! Time catches up with itself and we are on our feet, cheering, predicting three – nil wins and composing imaginary text messages to those who are not here.

Inside for a beer at half time, still the persistence to look at season tickets continues. The stewards I am sure are only doing what they are supposed to do, but I cannot understand it.

 

Back out for the second half and, somewhere below us pitch-side there is a small drama as a spectator seems to collapse. I was watching the game, so do not know whether he tripped on the stairs or had a seizure or similar in his seat. The medical team and stewards are there very quickly and he is escorted in to the lounge area. I hope he was and is all right. Well done to the stewards and staff.

But Orient are a different proposition in the second half. Their manager, Paul Slade has said something to them in the dressing room that has wound them up and they tear into us. Once again we lack the penetration – Brandy excepted – to break away and make it count.

And under the pressure a low-danger going nowhere shot is deflected off Paul Downing into the Walsall net past Richard O’Donnell who is diving the wrong way (to cover the original shot)!

Furious energy from both teams then, seeking the winner, but a draw it is at the end. Unsatisfactory in the scheme of things for both teams – moreso for us I fear.

We are playing at Bradford on Tuesday night. I will be ensconced in Austria, hoping to get a text that says we are back on the victory trail again, but certainly not missing the match.

Shrewsbury at home ?

Now there’s a prospect!