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).

Another Striker? Barnsley at Home

Thursday night I get in, pick up the Express and Star from the porch. Glance at the back page: it’s the Walsall edition so usually the biggest headline is a Saddlers one. And I need a double take.

Sean O’Driscoll has only been and got a striker in!

Has he been reading this blog? Or what?

There was some scuttlebutt about maybe possibly thinking about seeing what might happen if we played another striker up with Tom Bradshaw …

But this is definitely the best news.

He’s with Championship Huddersfield at the moment, but not getting enough first team games. So he was at Wigan on loan; now he’s come to Bescot. He has energy and a super scoring record. An out and out striker!

Oh and did I mention that the striker is Jordy Hiwula. The same Jordy Hiwula that came to us on loan last season … and scored just four minutes after his first start?

So, he’ll know the set-up if not the new manager. Knows the players; knows the dressing room.

Got to be good!

Because, after all, we didn’t lose against Scunthorpe. We managed to sneak into third place because results elsewhere went for us … and now we have another striker!

A big part of me is shrieking “about bluddy time!” but all of me is thinking it’s time to kick on!

I ‘phone the club on Thursday, trying to get my Savoy Lounge Pass, but, unfortunately (stupidly) I do not have my credit card so cannot pay for it, so cannot reserve it. I am in a bit of a quandary because the limit is a hundred and fifty and after that sales stop. Great, because we will have room to breathe. Not great because I haven’t got mine yet. Oh and there is nothing to stop them tinkering with that number at a later point is there?

Believe me when I say I am the punctual one> so, unsurprisingly I get to my brother’s about the time I said I would. But it is ridiculously early. So we drift to the parking space and have time to sit in the car, watch others park (which can be entertaining) and talk of families (and arrange a Mothers’ day celebration between us). Then stroll to the ground.

He is thinking of getting a season ticket or next season. Joining the queue to find out about my savoy Lounge Pass I see many others snapping them up. But wander into the savoy Lounge. The Tottenham v Arsenal game is on the big TVs. They are respectively second and third in the Premier League and the game kicked off early (TV coverage). The result is a hopeful one for Leicester City (who are surprise leaders of their league so far) because it is a score draw.

Cully and Andy are there. We smile, chatter about the hype, misinformation and obsession with the Brexit campaign: politicians for you!

But the team news is that Hiwula will not be starting the game! I am truly shocked; anticipation and excitement drains away. What the … ?

We are bidding, Andy suggests to become the team that has the most on-loan players that never uses them!

So far this season we have, indeed, used the fewest players (21) of any team in any of the top four leagues.

But, to consider, deliberate, get and not use a striker?

Into our seats; a group representing the sponsors are cheerful and there is some friendly banter: beards, aunties and agility in there somewhere. It is a fine thing about the seats we have and the type of people who come to the games that we can so quickly build up a good relationship with others (these guys from In Touch With Walsall), the scout from Ipswich …

Barnsley are the in-form team at the moment. Sean O’Driscoll rates them and has said so publicly. Now I am not so sure if this is a good thing, but every manager has their own style, and I have to think he knows how to do the psychological part of his job.

But once the kick-off is over we can see we are in for a game And then again, we seem a little short of ideas; too many clever, short passes and long, hopeful balls in the general direction of the ever-willing, but not superhuman, Tom Bradshaw.

Long story short: we go goal down, find some spirit somewhere and get an equaliser. Then spend some time bossing the game. A comedy moment when the referee is injured and seeks medical attention. The players mill about, energy drinks and a conversation between Sam Mantom and a couple of the Tykes.

There’s a good crowd here from Oop North. Which goes wild when they nick a deserved second goal.

Walsall fans, rather harshly but nonetheless saying it as they se it begin a chant of

“He’s Sean O’Driscoll;

He hasn’t a clue.”

Prompting substitutions: Lalkovic on for a below-par Kieron Morris and Hiwula on for Romaine Sawyers. Bradshaw is suddenly limping, cannot carry on and Jordan Cook is brought on.

Barnsley get a third, but frankly I cannot remember at which stage of the game-of-subs.

Cook over-extends himself, stretching for a high ball and collapses.

Hiwula is full of running, but does not have the time to make an impact.

The drive home is rather subdued.

Did we just blow our chances of automatic promotion?

Millwall at Home

So, too late for my doctor’s appointment – traffic snarled up because of a fatal accident on the M6 and subsequent closure of the motorway, while, firstly police did their necessary but morbid job and, secondly repair vehicles were called because spilled diesel had eaten away at the road surface (apparently causing it to return to its constituent parts: stone and tar: er, any chemists or civil engineers out there can help me with this one?). All roads in the vicinity – except, illogically the M6 toll road were jam-bumper-to-bumper rammed. Me too.

There talk-jockey on Radio WM is trying to provoke discussion by saying that the Toll Road should be opened up for free if such incidents happen … but gets little response. The road remains a white elephant (but was useful for laddering us to the Ian Hunter concert and Reading last week.

So … late for the appointment; late getting home and eating and not enough digestion time to get to the gym. So a brisk walk instead, spotting a couple of pallets in the front garden of the son of our one-time Co-op milkman I hatched a plan.

Scrounged said pallets, took ‘em down to my mother’s: perfect timing she was just running out of kindling, in the grey, wet and windswept Saturday morning drabness. Opposite to her house, the fence has been cleared up: a car crashed through it a couple of weeks ago and totalled the telegraph pole nearby.

Got a little wetter just wandering in the copse there: where I spent many happy hours, whatever the weather, as a child. The wood and I have both changed but there is still something magical about standing in it, surrounded by oak, alder and sycamore trees – and an ash tree that my grandfather planted. The dip is flooded now: such rain recently.

Got in touch with my brother and, while Saddlers Widow was off to spectate at a weightlifting competition at OSP (her training gym)we set off for Bescot. Easier to park than either of us thought: we are second in the league now and getting good gates at home and spectacular travelling support (this is all relative of course) and I expected the road to be jammed. Presumably the weather put fair weather fans off. The official web-site http://www.saddlers.co.uk has just posted a teaser for the Early Bird season ticket sale. It is inspirational: well filmed, imaged and voiced over (titled I Believe), but, for some reason has no mention of how much the discounted tickets will cost. Hmmmm …

However, doing as well as we are, this really should boost ticket sales; after all we may well be in the Championship next year.

The paths between Grand Junction Way, where we traditionally park and Bescot are saturated, the road too on Bescot Crescent is seriously flooded and oncoming traffic splashes water over the trousers of those of us shuffling, albeit quickly to the Temple of League One Dreams, home of the “Pride of the Midlands”, as we hold our hoods over our hair. A bus is the vilest culprit. I slide inside, flashing my season ticket, while brother goes to get his from the sales office. Inside I find out that second-string goalie has injured himself since Tuesday’s Doncaster magic and youngster Liam Roberts is in for a debut. Whoops could be a banana skin.

 

That scout is back and we welcome him: in fact I let him have my seat. He says he’s here to watch Millwall players, but that there are other scouts here too – and I’d already noticed a guy wearing a Rochdale anorak somewhere near the coffee.

We kick off, rain still bucketing down from the floodlit heavens, running along the edge of the roof and being blown by the savage gusts of wind. Cold wind with an edge to it!

 

The game kicks off and it is fast and furious: Millwall have a great away record, we are not as good at home as we do on the road. A great forty five minutes and everything still to play for … for both sides. Roberts has had a really steady game, making some excellent saves and a couple of brave ones at flailing feet.

But in the second half we are playing against that wind. Coffee has warmed me up, and I am ready for things to click. They don’t. We are working hard, playing together, but Millwall are starting to come into it. Bradshaw is playing his usual game, getting bustled, getting battered but giving some back and always available and ready to chase the lost cause balls.

Then Millwall snatch the lead: a fine goal, followed by unnecessary and unsavoury celebration baiting the home fans – and we are chasing a game. We’ve done it before, but this time Millwall are making their lead count. As we did on Tuesday night. A taste of our own medicine I suppose. They get a second. Then a third. We plug away: anything would help us here, help our goal difference, even if we cannot get the points, cannot get even one.

Bad news is that Bradshaw pulls up after fifty minutes, going for one more challenge, looking at the bench sits down and is replaced by Jordan Cook. Is this the turning point in the season I guess we are all thinking. How bad will it be this time?

We do not have another striker, were really pleased to have kept him during the January transfer window … for this?

I wish him a speedy recovery.

Jordan Cook-rated, apparently as our “most committed trainer”, so does Milan Lalkovic (failing to have his usual impact) and the always-honest Kieron Morris.

We trudge back past and through the flooded roads and pavements to the car, wondering how the teams around us have gotten on. We know that Leicester City have won at Manchester City (amazing but maybe unsurprising) in the Premiership.

Back at home I am swiftly on to the i-pad; we have managed to hang on to second place, but missed a chance to threaten those below us – and still in striking distance.

This was another game that could have been a key; it didn’t look easy, but on the way in I had confidence that we could win it. It is good to have that kind of faith … and the injuries to key players (Etheridge, Bradshaw and McGillivray) notwithstanding I still have it.

But prospective season ticket sales may have taken a bit of a hit.

“… Got To Be Bradshaw!” (Fleetwood: home)

 

Jeff Astle. A surname that had schoolboys arguing about whether or not to pronounce the “t” or not (“you don’t in castle, do you?”). Jeff Astle who played 361 games for West Bromwich Albion, scoring 174 goals. He also played for England five times, but scored no goals. He died of injuries to the brain, sustained heading the leather case balls that, honestly got heavier when they got wet. And heading was his specialty.

When WBA beat Everton at Wembley to win the F.A. Cup in 1968 he scored in every round of the tournament., but finished his life as a window cleaner in Burton. His motto? “He doesn’t miss the corners!”

Yesterday in a turnaround West Brom celebrated Jeff Astle day – a tribute to the iconic player and to his family who have long been campaigning for better understanding of the circumstances surrounding his illness. They will be setting up the Jeff Astle Foundation. The club had previously actively discouraged participation. All credit to them for reconsidering. So, on the day, West Brom, seemingly to be pulling clear of relegation from the premier league under recently appointed manager Tony Pulis were playing Leicester City (equally apparently falling through the floor to the Championship). WBA playing in replica shirts from the ’68 F.A. Cup Final, complete with red socks went into a 2-1 lead; the first Albion goal being scored – can you believe it? – after nine (the shirt Astle wore so effectively during his Baggies time) minutes. Home and hosed the Albion faithful thought, but reckoned without Leicester’s spirit. Leicester playing some aggressive, attacking soccer coming out – 3 – 2 winners.

Back at home after a trip to library and supermarket we are eating dinner when the doorbell rings.  Unexpectedly it’s our neighbour.

“if you want to pop round for a cup of tea and cake,” he says, quietly, “it’s my eightieth birthday …”

I feel guilty (I didn’t know!) and sad (is he on his own?). I finish my cheese cob and we knock on the door. He is not alone, there’s champagne and tea and sponge cake. We talk for a while (football, jobs, biscuits and families) then I have to get ready to go to the match. We are playing Fleetwood. They are on the fringes of getting promoted for the second consecutive season. We, meanwhile  sit on the hinges of the relegation trapdoor. Surely this will be a mighty clash? Everything to play for, for both teams!

It is sunny. The Walsall crowd is poor, but hey, the Grand National will be on TV.  Some guy comes and asks if the seats next to me are usually taken. He’s a scout – and with some others – and the seats they’ve been given are poor. Turns out he works for Wigan; reckons they’ll be coming down into League One and he’s here to watch Fleetwood. “There’s a lot of players not signing up new contracts,” he explains, being quite open, “we’ve a new, young manager (Gary Caldwell) and he’s wanting to know what’s about.”

Tom Bradshaw is back in the team, and Kieron Morris, who has been on loan at Wrexham (playing for them – and losing – at Wembley). He  looks sharp. Bradshaw looks mobile and sprightly. But neither team seems particularly inspired. We are  playing better than of late it is true, but still the ball goes backwards too often, is slowed when we could be pressing. Cook  is lucky to remain on the pitch after a harsh challenge on the far touchline, but maybe the referee has seen too many “Cod Army” players falling over far too easily and writhing on the ground in  a frankly pathetic fashion. And getting nothing!

Cully and Andy are there, we talk about the wedding and about finding rare artefacts that museums do not want to know about (in his case a rope assisted dumb waiter lift arrangement still in perfect working order), extracted from  a building in one piece!

Inexplicably in the second half, Morris who has lead the charge and been one of our most effective players is switched for Rico Henry (it would have been good to see these two on at the same time because Henry’s attitude is brilliant: he is small but big hearted and runs at people very well, his pace carrying him through challenges. (Cook had been taken off after about an hour and Hiwula came on).

In the second half Fleetwood are trying something very different; dropping way back and trying to counter attack. Gives Purkiss and Taylor a chance to push up. O’Connor is sound at the back and both Chambers twins playing strongly. Tongue in cheek, the Walsall “choir” bring on a few choruses (to the tune of We’ll Meet  Again) of

“We’ll Score again

Don’t know where

Don’t Know when

But I know we’ll score again

Some sunny day”

Cain has looked a bit off the pace, but just after the Wigan scout has told me this is the third nil-nil draw he’s been to, he slips a pass through to – who else? – Tam Bradshaw, who adjusts himself and pushes the ball accurately and economically into the bottom corner of the net.

“That’s got to be Bradshaw!” the scout says – and it is his seventeenth goal of the season. While we need another plan for some games; and while Bradshaw has been sidelined with this hamstring thing and missed so many games – he is a player in a million for us: talisman and worth so much.

I can feel the relief in my own bones: Dean Smith must be as ecstatic as he can ever be. Suddenly we are steering clear of trouble aren’t we?

We are at home on Tuesday night. Crawley Town who are out of the relegation zone on goal difference alone. If we can just beat them in the next game in what will be a matter of urgency for them we may well be home safe – despite so many  lacklustre performances.

The drive home is a lot easier.

The Grand National has been won by Many Clouds , giving jockey  Leighton Aspell his second consecutive victory in the race (he won last year on Pineau De Re). Crews from Oxford University won both the women’s and men’s boat races.

F.A. Cup Surprises.

My good wife was not happy yesterday (Friday). One of her favourite programmes (the Musketeers, BBC1) was replaced by a live broadcast F.A. Cup match. Cambridge United versus Man. Utd.

“Why,” she wanted to know “is there not a channel that shows just sports so I don’t have to have my favourite programmes messed about?”

I was thinking several things – the way we can all do, right?

The first: that this version of Alexandre Dumas’ musketeers – plus one – is simply using the four characters to eke out well-written but completely new, episode length storylines … I am puzzled why it was not deemed possible to invent new characters and make something new. We seem to be in a loop of recycling old plots, ideas and characters, rather than taking a chance on new …

Secondly: there are many channels that show only sports. We don’t have them and I don’t think I need them, but they are there. The BBC – God bless all who sail in her – are desperately trying to hang on to sporting events and the F.A. Cup is one they still hold. The playing timetable has been stretched out over three days to allow games to be shown on Fridays, Saturdays and Sunday. Beyond that BBC is losing big sports events to other channels – sport is becoming, sadly, more about the stay at home audience than the attending spectators.

Thirdly I was wondering, just wondering if the game would be any good; could Cambridge, massively underdogs, beat the mighty Manchester United team?

So I started to watch it. I was only going to watch until Man Utd – s would predictably and inevitably would happen – scored their first goal …

But they didn’t! Managed by Richard Money (our manager from 2006 to 2008) they outplayed, out thought and out manoeuvred their Premier league opponents. Man Utd looked short of fire, commitment and skill. I watched the whole game. A proper F.A. Cup game. A nil-nil result with a replay at Old Trafford is arguably the best result for all involved from Cambridge: the players will get to play in one of the world’s most iconic stadiums, the fans can say they went to Old Trafford to watch their own team play there – and the money the club makes will provide a genuine, well won foundation for the club to build on.

   

No game for the Saddlers – we were knocked out by Shrewsbury in the very early stages: another story (briefly told at https://saddlersfan.wordpress.com/tag/shrewsbury-town/) .

The media are peddling the fiftieth anniversary of the funeral of Winston Churchill. It was televised, live and had a massive world-wide audience. Churchill’s great grandson, interviewed says he feels his great grandfather should be remembered for far more than just his war-time role. He was involved in the last great cavalry charge, a war correspondent, a sponsor of science, an artist, a writer, and flew in held-together-with-string planes in 1912 as founder of the Royal Naval Air Service. There is newsreel footage of his funeral procession which includes the touching sight of the dockside cranes lowering their jibs in respect. It escaped attention at the time, but the crane drivers would not normally have been at work on this day – and got paid over-time, allegedly, for the act.

Sixty years ago in another land a truck driver named Elvis recorded a song for his mother and, arguably changed the world. The producer of the record, Sam Phillips recognised something in the voice and – the rest is history.

This afternoon, more shocks in the F.A. Cup: Chelsea roundly beaten by Bradford City (at home!) and Manchester City beaten by Championship side Middleborough. Aston Villa, who have not scored for nine and a bit hours must be nervous: they play free-scoring Bournemouth tomorrow.

The crowd at an Everton game recently became extras in a Sylvester Stallone film. He appeared on the scoreboard screen in an Everton shirt and asked the crowd to “act the part of the crowd” in a Rocky spin-off film he is making.

Walsall have managed to sign Michael Cain on a season long loan (from Leicester City) now; initially he was filling in for Sam Mantom, recovering from injury. But Mantom’s  injury is on-going – and Cain has been so influential. Glad we have him for the rest of the  season! Because there is a lot going on at the moment: our second leg Northern Area final is on Tuesday. Two nil up isn’t feeling safe at the moment, but Wembley ?

Bescot will be hosting another international game in March: the England under-18s game against Switzerland.

Dan Dare (Oldham Away)

Ever since I first watched Mathieu Manset playing as a “guest” in the friendly against Leicester City I have been impressed: by his mobility, by his strength, by his speed and close control ability – especially being such a big man, able to deal with the inevitable physicality of league One challenges.

He played against Rochdale on Tuesday night, scored his first goal indeed. Ben Purkiss back after a long lay-off from injury also played well. But both were absent from the starting line up at Oldham. Mystifying.

Andy Taylor, in my opinions one of our key players, was also missing, possibly injured.

I am left wondering about the team choices made by Dean Smith and Richard O’Kelly.

Back-to-fitness Jordan Cook took on the lone striker role and, in one of our few attacks of the whole game ran onto a well-judged through ball and netted. Fifteen minutes gone –and in the crowded corner of the ground where the Walsall faithful were sitting, or standing cheering, we could see a marvellous game unfolding.

 

 

This was almost a last-minute trip, but on the journey we were talking about weddings, UKIP getting their first member of parliament in the Clacton on Sea by-election (and any effect it might have on the policies and sound-bites of Conservative and Labour politicians), who might play Dan Dare in a hoped-for film and why we came off the M6 a junction early to get to Oldham. The sun was shining on the second-highest English League ground (West Brom’s is apparently the highest) and the pint and the meat and potato pie served up were fine (although eating and drinking in the rough area allocated was poor; no seats, no tables) and a poster in the entry to the gents toilets reading:

Pyro Facts 05

WE CAN’T SEE YOU SNEAKING OUT

Smoke billowing across the pitch can affect the play – or even cause the game to be delayed

had us puzzled. What?

Back to the game then. After the goal we were, simply poor: poor passing, poor defending, unable to stop the ball coming back and back and back and back into our penalty area.

It could only be a matter of time – it was. Thirty one minutes and our hard-ridden luck ran out. The equaliser going to Connor Wilkinson. Baxendale was ineffective, trying challenges that a player his size is always going to lose. Clifford? Was he playing? Grimes, already clocking up yellow cards again at fault. Chasing back is one thing, but battering somebody because they got to the ball first is unacceptable. Get there first next time1!Let the ball do the talking!

 

A poor pass from Mal Benning, no longer a natural left back, had Andy Butler down, injured and staying down, The Oldham number nine making a nuisance of himself, perhaps by leaving a boot in. Almost immediately Poleon (the number 9, doing the kind of work we need someone to do for us) was in a follow up with Butler. Other players got involved – so unnecessary. Butler booked – apparently for allowing himself to get fouled – and Poleon? Well after a little play the referee – poor game from him – had a word. Should have been booked along with Butler. And, er what exactly was the ref saying to him – and, er why ?

 

Manset on after the start of the second half, Butler put up forwards. Hmm, so a little bit of target man stuff then?

Not a bit of it!

That same old pass across the pitch, short, back, back to the ‘keeper business. Passes going hopelessly wrong and Oldham pouring forwards. Eventually going 2 – 1 up (a Jones goal).

We had a couple of chances but fluffed ‘em.

Crewe at home next week. They are in dire straits, but we ain’t so pretty either.

England beat san Marino 5 – 0 at Wembley and the Under21s playing at Molineux, won 2-1 against Croatia.

Jules Bianchi was involved in a terrible crash at the Japanese Grand Prix last week. A car had crashed out and was being removed by a heavy tractor-crane. The pace car was on, with heavy rain falling. Bianchi’s car left the track and – what are the odds? – crashed into the tractor lifting the first crashed car. He is still in a “stable but critical condition” reports say.

A seventeen year old student, Malala Yousafzai, from a school in Birmingham is joint winner of this year’s Nobel Peace prize. Until shot in the head by the Taliban (in 2012) she lived in Pakistan, but came to Queen Elizabeth’s Hospital in Brum for surgery. Now she attends a local school. The Taliban do not want girls to receive an education and Malala stood up against this inequality despite threats and intimidation.

The other winner, Indian campaigner Mr Satyarthi has maintained the tradition of Mahatma Gandhi and headed various forms of peaceful protests, “focusing on the grave exploitation of children for financial gain,” the committee said at the Nobel Institute in Oslo.

A Game of a Different Name.

Strange when you wake up on the final day of an escorted tour. First you’ve been able to have a lie-in. There’s nothing to do after all until it’s time to leave for the airport (in our case Reagan, Washington, D.C. en route to Birmingham (the original one in England) via Newark outside New York). So, although you wake up at 6 a.m. local time (because that’s been the routine) you can lie in bed, have a late breakfast … and just, well fill up time really … until that mind-numbing slog to the airport, the glamour of aviation fuel in the nostrils, hen air conditioned boredom and cramp, constantly thinking you might be in the wrong place at the right time (or something like that).

It’s the U.S.A.. So there are a million and one TV channels to hop. Interminably long advert breaks give plenty of incentive – if any were needed – to “see what’s on the other side”.

NFL! What the Americans call football is American football to me. A cross between wrestling, pantomime, graceful athleticism, cheerleaders and rugby. It’s over-hyped, over analysed and done to death, with statistics panels and histories of previous games, tactics, player data and chatter, chatter, chatter.

Then I am surprised to find a soccer game. On NBC. In contrast it is so simply shown. A single camera angle covering almost all of the action, brief commentary, very few replays and slow-motion analysis that dogs the NFL channels (oh and the accompanying college grade games) …

I am hit by a revelation at that point. And stunned. Truly!

The gap plugged by the ESPN and NFL channels is exactly what English media have done to the “beautiful game”! Isn’t it?

Match of the Day, internationals: talking heads, media headlines, gossip, paraphernalia and personality worship trails a-plenty. I began by thinking criticism of the American system and am quickly brought to face the lengthy analysis of Saturday evening English TV.

Now, this blog may be in danger – or indeed be wholly composed of – of continuing that over- egging of an elementally-simple, beautiful game and so I may myself need to answer charges of hypocrisy at some stage.

So, having caught fifteen minutes or so of the Arsenal v man City game earlier on in the tour I settled down to watch this one. Leicester City against Manchester United. Leicester, unsurprisingly losing 3-1 when I decide to get breakfast. It’s still on when I get back to the room. It’s the whole game, live of course, not the edited highlights.

The football from both teams is so smooth, so fast, so fluent; the ball swept majestically from end to end, from wing to wing. Defence becomes attack with no need for complicated time-outs, team switches or huddles. It is such a simple game. (Earlier from the bus we had seen what was described as “Football Frisbee” being played in one of Washington’s parks. Imagine football with a Frisbee, not a ball and you have it.) But the play is also stylish: dribbling, passing, some fine interceptions and well-timed tackles, some with that physical edge I enjoy seeing.

 “Leicester losing at this point,” the commentator intones, But they are not intimidated, moving forward with both urgency and purpose. They were in the Championship last season and have a degree of robust play that is disturbing and unsettling the Man U. players. And United’s recent-arrival manager van Gaal, has changed the team about, selling some who may well have felt themselves established United players (Danny Wellbeck, now at Arsenal is a good example) and moved in his own players.

A loose, hopeful  ball is delivered down the United right, a challenge goes in from Vardy (the City player, previously with non-League Fleetwood Town). In my opinion Vardy committed a foul on Rafael da Silva, the United full back. Such shoulder charges are rarely seen in the Premier League. But no whistle. Vardy gets into the penalty area; the United full back comes back at him with a challenge and he goes to the ground:

Penalty!

Along with the United players I am surprised: If the first offence wasn’t given why is this one? But rules is rules … and, as a spectacle the game will be better if Leicester get another goal. Plus, of course, I must confess that United are far from being my favourite team.

Goal!!

Leicester then add pressure; an equaliser comes very quickly, from Esteban Cambiasso, after some poor defending on one hand and enterprising opportunism on the other. Then it’s another penalty for the Foxes – and Utd have Tyler Blackett sent off.

The final score ?

Leicester 5 man Utd. 3

… and an impressive game to boot!

Back at home the Leicester M.P. Keith Vaz will use the score line in a speech at the Labour Party Conference in Manchester, saying, with a twinkle in his eye:

“… and anyone who can get the numbers five three into a speech will get an extra thirty minutes from the Chair.”

I press the switch on the remote control box, attach myself to the luggage and the return begins.

Having kept myself away from Saddlers results I will soon find out how they got on in the three games I missed.

Kind of Backwards (Crystal Palace: home: Capital One Cup)

Seems I may have to write this one – kind of – backwards.

No standard build-up, start at the end and work to the beginning.

Crystal Palace overwhelmed us. We had too many players off their game and, having given away a cheap early goal through lack of concentration we never looked like bossing it.

Palace were the better team. They are in the Premier League, should be enough said. But it’s the cup and the old eleven versus eleven clichés kick in. Local paper talk – rare in usual circumstances almost had me believing we could pull off some kind of magic, getting through to the next round of the Capital One (Still, to many a fan, the League) Cup.

We gave away a free kick after six minutes or so; players decided to argue the decision. Palace, ruthlessly (and quite properly) took the kick; man in space, fierce shot (Marcus Gayle) and we were chasing a faster game. Gayle gave a master class in striking, notching up a deserved hat trick to the delight of the Palace supporters. Again I give credit to travelling supporters. We are situated on a motorway at the centre of England; few grounds are easier to get to – but still the commitment must be made. No doubt: the Palace players are fitter, more skilful and using keener “football brains” than our team … as you would expect. But even so …

Bradshaw once again – apparently alone up front – gave a good manful account, Grimes, again largely absent when and where he was needed, managed a shot which came back off the inside of the post, hid the Eagles ‘keeper on the back of the head and … went out.

“When your luck’s not in …” the guy next to me said. True enough, but hey, we haven’t won at home since January. Can it be possible? How long can your luck be missing?

And, er, dare I ask it: what if we are actually in a streak of good luck; because things could be worse. Sometimes, as one of the characters in long running TV series Holby City said “haven’t you got it yet: it’s the hope that kills!”

Some excellent displays from our two full backs, both always making themselves available for the pass, running long and hard down both wings as well as defending reasonably well (bearing in mind that we were thumped 3 – o). Andy Taylor (selected as man of the match, a minute before he failed once again to get a free kick on target. And Liam Kinsella, playing against players far larger than him, refusing to be intimidated and very mature in his approach and attitude.

Seemed like a good crowd, packed car park, but at nearly four thousand I really believe it could have been better. The middle and upper tiers of the Walsall end were closed.

Talk between us was of the trip to Tallinn, tram railways, history of Walsall, work, and whether we should go to Scunthorpe on Saturday.

On the same night, however, giant killing was being done. M.K. Dons put paid to Manchester United (who broke the British transfer record with the £59.7 million pounds purchase of Angel di Maria). Four goals to nil! That’s just amazing! Louis van Gaal, the new United manager, still with a lot to prove then (watch this space!). But a couple of the goals were scored by former Walsall striker Will Grigg.

A day later Burton Albion, just down the road and a division lower dumped QPR.

Footnote is that Dean Smith has managed to sign reluctant French striker Mathieu Manset who impressed during his loan spell here and his appearance against Leicester City in a friendly. https://saddlersfan.wordpress.com/2014/07/31/its-a-friendly-right/

Now , just maybe, we have a target man and enough people returning from injury to mount a realistic and proper start to the season. Manset up front with Bradshaw feeding off him ought to be a good combination; and we’ve got one less trophy to worry about now.

It’s A Friendly, Right?

It’s a sunny day: a lot gets done during the day.

I have used my season ticket for the first time (to reserve my seat) and get two extra tickets for the friendly game this evening. Opponents Leicester City (new boys to the Premier league in the forthcoming season).

Promises to be interesting right?

Walsall’s results in friendlies so far not exactly encouraging. But they’re friendlies right? Meant to add to player’s fitness, get them playing together like a well-oiled machine (nah, you’re right that metaphor definitely doesn’t work … but it’s staying put!), test out new strategies, different positions, all that malarkey …

Then again, so far we’re getting players injured in these games and it’s time to start sweating., maybe. We have a small squad, so injury problems are never far away, if not actually paying a visit and eating your scones.

Good crowd from Leicester; posh coaches too. Our daughter Rebecca, who teaches in Leicester, is one of my guests. The other is a Liverpool fan, just interested in seeing a game I guess.

The new electronic scoreboard! It’s bright, it shows pictures that are synched with the announcements and, soon after kick off the timer is wrong. the pitch looks splendid, but, then again, if it’s not pristine now, there’s really no hope is there?

Our number 2 is listed on the team sheet as “A. Triallist”. He is big! A little out of fitness and he doesn’t track back when big Wes Morgan lumbers up to score Leicester’s first. Nobody to blame really for the second. A good tackle from Paul Downing (our vice-captain this season) bobbles to a Fox, David Nugent, who hammers it sweetly into the net. We’re looking a bit nervous at this point.

Just before the break some relaxed Leicester defending sees our number two stick the ball in the net. Bit rough house, but it’s “in the sprout bag” and the referee gives it. Bit of muscle, just what we’ll need when the pressure is on and we need to use a target man to soak up time.

The announcement of the scorer is typical Walsall.

“The first goal for the Super saddlers was scored by number two … I don’t know who*.”

We seem invigorated after the break. Baxendale sharper, O’Connor (new signing) and Mal Benning, especially looking useful.  Adam Chambers, new captain is at the centre of things, leading, typically by example and effort. The ball gets squeezed up the wing, dinked inside; a run from A. Triallist who looks up and slides the pass inside for another new boy Ashley Grimes to equalise.

Both teams give the other a thoroughly good work out. Leicester look less threatening in the second half, but manage a winner after a welter of substitutions, including “Another Triallist”.

It’s still warm when we leave the ground, with stewards not yet “up to speed on segregating the masses trying to exit via the Bonser Suite. Not an easy job: but this year I can smile and flash my season ticket.

Don’t worry people this is a friendly, you have time to get your act together. The Express and Star and web-site Bescot Banter certainly do. They have the Triallist named and noted as Mathieu Manset.

Carlisle (away)

 

18th April, 2014

Met this guy today; a Liverpool supporter. We were walking across Cannock Chase together, along Oldacre Valley up to the Glacial Boulder and back again. He’s excited that Leicester City are promoted to the premier League, because it means he can watch his team play there: he’s not from Liverpool, so how he got to be a Reds supporter we never got around to.

But he knew we had Michael Ngoo on loan and we talked about how he wasn’t quite fitting into the system, hadn’t scored yet (but has a good record elsewhere, for example when he was on loan at Hearts) and for England Under-21s.

While we were walking we heard the cuckoo for the first time this year. English folklore has it that whatever you are doing when you hear the cuckoo you’ll be doing for the rest of the year. Funny that because some years ago in pretty much this same spot I was taking a mobile phone call from a friend in Austria when I heard (and saw) the cuckoo. She told me the Austrian tradition is to jingle coins in your pocket (or purse) for a year’s good luck.

Then, this afternoon, I’m working on the computer, listening to BBC Radio WM, where they had commentary on what turned out to be an exciting and up-to-the-finish Wolves v Rotherham match with Rotherham fighting back from 3-1 down to 4-4 and losing 6 – 4. With pitch invasions and, no surprise to Walsall fans a couple of Wolves players getting a little uppity.

But in the breaks in the commentary we get reports from Carlisle.

Walsall losing 1 – 0. Carlisle with a lot to play for; their League One survival being a big incentive.

Then Ngoo comes on as sub and scores the equaliser.

One all is not a bad result the way things are panning out but it means every last scrap of mathematically-possible hope of getting into the play offs is now gone.

So, relax and let’s give Gillingham a good pasting on Monday to put a bit of polish on a warm Easter weekend.

I’ve got my ticket.