Red Noses and Rants.

So, following the debacle that was the last home game against Leyton Orient, Dean Smith – perhaps in some kind of “red mist” moment he will, hopefully reconsider at a later point decided to apportion blame for the poor performance to a few fans making sarcastic comments?

So far – by and large – I have been struck by this manager’s down-to-earth attitude, impressed by his ability to attract decent players (often on loan), to inspire the players in the existing squad, to manage on what is undoubtedly a shoestring budget and by  his loyalty to the players. However  I was, frankly surprised by the outburst that appeared in the Express and Star: Smith is out of order; the game was poor because the team did not perform well enough … and maybe hasn’t for some weeks now. It is clear to those impartials who only look at the results; it is blatantly obvious to those of us who watch the games week in and week out and like to think we have an affinity for the club.

Imagine then, that I was not looking forward to the next two away games. The first at fairly distant Yeovil: I quickly strangled he thought of going such a distance to a mid-week game (work commitments). And we duly won, wouldn’t you know it? Tom Bradshaw missed a penalty kick and a few moments later Jordy Hiwula put us one nil up. A second half penalty for Yeovil was saved by O’Donnell and we took the three points.

The Saturday game against Barnsley, however we lost three nil. “The less said, the better the beer,” as my grandfather was known to say (quietly).

Friday this week, while my car was being serviced was Red Nose Day (A.K.A. Comic Relief) a massive “telethon” fund raising event to raise money to spend on projects particularly in the U.K and Africa. The very first one in 1988 followed Bob Geldof’s (later Sir Bob) seminal Live Aid (in which musicians raised money for Ethiopian famine victims) when comedians decided to try something along similar lines. This year’s epic raised more than £78 million pounds and included an appearance by astrophysicist Stephen Hawking (also the subject of a moving and multi-award winning film starring Eddie Redmayne).

In less savoury news megalomaniac host of BBC TVs Top gear has been suspended after a “fracas” with a producer. Unsurprisingly perhaps this has provoked greater reactions on social media than more serious political issues (such as bed blocking and National health Service funding). The man has made a living and a reputation out of being uncharmingly loutish and almost certainly deserves at least this suspension pending an enquiry. Whatever the outcome, however it seems he will be set to make money. He is a self-promoting brand, firmly of the establishment but pretending to take carefully considered pokes at easy targets which are also part of the establishment. He will be gobbled up by other organisations if the BBC decides to end his contract … and the BBC makes a lot of money on the success of his TV programme and, let’s face it, style.

Sad news of the week is that Sir Terry Pratchett (author and creator of the marvellous “Discworld empire”) whose humour and plots have lit up my reading for so many years (and that of our children too) has passed away. He was suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease and his end came with dignity (if such is possible) and a characteristic self-deprecation. A real genius is missing from the world.

And today MK Dons at home) I was unable to contact my brother, but got a lift to the game from Cully (cheers mate). We talked over the Wembley trip, excitement, being a bit nostalgic about floodlit matches at Fellows park (our former ground). Efficiently parked on the official car park and swept up into the savoy Lounge.

There was some guy on an exercise bike outside (promoting men’s health, particularly prostate cancer I think). Quite crowded inside but a quick beer and looking out over the sun- soaked pitch. It was going to be cold out there, but from inside at this time of year there is the illusion of warmth. A young teenager and – I am guessing here – his dad (trying to look cool, hands in his pockets) passing the ball back and forth on the pitch. Mascot for the day perhaps? Then Swifty joined in and things got a bit more animated.

Someone leaving their inside seats to go outside left a car flag

“We’re With Walsall

22^nd March” beneath the table.

I scooped it up, but would find the guy and return it at half time.

Almost unbelievably long-time absentee Sam Mantom, last year’s Player of the Season is on for his first start. Surely he won’t stay on for the whole game. But he starts well. In fact the team does. Pushing up, pressing the ball and space, forcing MK Dons back into their own half. This is, at least unusual; far more aggressive, assertive than we are used to seeing. Hiwula is out wide, Sawyers backing up Bradshaw. Bradshaw looks a little less energetic than he has done, but is still keen. In fact it is Bradshaw who scores the first goal: a splendid cross from Andy Taylor and a neat header past a stranded abandoned-by-his-defence keeper and things look good.

As they always do when we start on the front foot. But, as so often something happens … we relax, give up ground and possession and/or the Dons step up their game … so that after thirty two minutes Will Grigg – a former striker here puts in the equaliser. We lost key players when Grigg left: he was offered a new contract but, unsurprisingly signed for Brentford – where presumably he was offered better terms. Sadly he gets boo-ed by the Walsall fans who show their disapproval with a

“Only in it for the money” chant … unlike the rest of us who work for a living I think (at the same time considering how strangely we behave when we support a team).

Half time and its inside for a coffee. There is Wembley merchandise on sale and some freebies (the car flags for example and some windscreen stickers) on offer.  Both promote Walsall Council and HomeServe (stand sponsors).

I have challenged a tradition and actually bought a Walsall T-shirt from an autism charity. It has the slogan

“Walsall Football Club is for life,

Not just for Wembley”

It is black because we will be playing in a one-off black kit for the final and is a dig, possibly  at all of the people who do not turn up regularly for games but are on the Wembley bandwagon. Don’t get me wrong; I have no problem with these people (and certainly not the atmosphere they will create) or the money they will contribute) but it would be great if they were also committed for the bread and butter games too. Sometimes the rather patronising label of being everybody else’s “second favourite team” is a pain. We have sold over twenty five thousand tickets it seems: that’s an enormous amount of support for such a small club. It should make the journey and the event so much more exciting.

Back out for the second half and former Coventry City manager, Steve Pressley is sitting in our seats. Politely we ask him to move over and spend the second half talking about football management and, in his belief, the great job that Dean Smith is doing on such a limited budget. He is down to earth and happy to chat, but defensive when we make our “terrace criticisms”.

We are a great little club, punching above our weight (usually) but I cannot remember when this has not been the case. We have still had some great times, watched superb players and been led by fine managers (Ray Graydon and Alan Buckley spring obviously to mind).

The score board is on 81 minutes before we realise we are so far into the game. Mantom is getting involved in some meaty challenges, still looking reasonably fit … is there a chance he will play at Wembley?

Final score is a one-one draw, meaning realistically that chances of getting into the play offs, mathematically possible have shrunk to we-need-a-miracle dimensions and, as in the best of the old days I can relax and take each game on an as-it-comes basis. And  …

… hang on, there is still the home game against Sheffield Utd on Tuesday to go I remind myself as we slide back down the M6, before the trip to Wembley.

 

A Bit of A Slump? Leyton Orient (home)

I am now somewhat recovered. I posted my last one here a little reluctantly. I am in danger perhaps of repeating myself, of the format becoming stale. I have enjoyed the challenge of finding something different to write about; this is not meant to be your standard journalistic report of a sporting event, but to convey contexts, trends, moods and changes; that last post had me wondering.

Maybe it is the effect of the virus infection; certainly I felt robbed of energy. Maybe that mid-season (give or take a game or so) dip or the anti-climax of – finally – getting to play at Wembley. Who knows?

But it has been a kind winter: higher than ever average temperatures, less hours of frost and more than usual days with clear skies … and spring is making its presence felt: hazel catkins, crocus flowers, birds nest building going on in earnest.

So, with that in mind I climbed into my brothers car to travel to the Banks’s Stadium for the visit of Leyton Orient.  Some bloke neither of us has ever seen before sidles between us at speed, then turns and engages us in a couple of minutes diatribe of the “where-have-all-these fans-come-from?” nature … “Where were they before we got to Wembley eh?”

He goes right at the place we turn right – and we look at each other, shrug – and smile. One of those

“Who-the-hell-was-that?” kind of smiles.

OK, so it wasn’t so easy to find a parking space today (although we parked behind a familiar red Italian car) and a bit further to walk to the ground. But I’ll take the extra fans – and the money they bring – while they’re bringing it. It’ll help the cause – and the way results are falling out at the moment the cause needs all the help it can muster… and who knows, if we can use the enthusiasm, the drive it might kick us on and we achieve a little bit more, get a few new converts and bums on seats every week.

That is some kind of speechifying right there, because what happens next – the grim reality – is, at best, less than pretty.

There is a fine complete quiet well observed minute’s silence for Geoff Morris, former Walsall player (between 1965 when he became the youngest player – at 16 years old to play for Walsall and 1972) who died earlier this week. I like the way this happens at football clubs these days – and respect the way the Orient fans joined in.

But then we started to go to pieces. Orient players closed down, played with intent and purpose and we did not. I am fiercely proud of my club but the performance today was lacking in so many areas. Passes going astray, no challenges being made, our goalkeeper left so exposed so many times. We need to find a different way to play and the players need to take some responsibility when things are not going so well to react, to play different shapes. Rather than keep on doing the same old, same old. The formation looked like four three three, but the passes made it look like that old dependence on Tom Bradshaw (back from injury) with Jordy Hiwula looking less involved and so less effective out on the wing. When we are so predictable we become vulnerable – and then we fall behind.

We endured (a perfect word here) most of the first half before we started to put some pressure on, finishing quite strongly. We were looking for this to carry on from the second half kick off. It really didn’t. Orient players still full of energy and poor passing from us. Leyton Orient going one up after 56 minutes had an inevitability about it. To add salt to the wound Chris Dagnall who played a key role until his eventual substitution scored a second. 

We wondered who would be awarded man of the match: everybody seeming out of sorts; Sawyers our most creative player. It’s given to Hiwula.

The pitch is too smooth, Dean Smith will say in a post-match interview – and this is true, but Leyton Orient mastered it and we failed. Again, at the expense of repeating myself: none of the Walsall players at the moment look as if they are playing for places in the team that’ll run out at Wembley. In which case I am not sure what it’ll take to get them motivated. Of course I take the point that it is oh so easy to be an armchair manager, to be critical without the day on day involvement and need to establish credibility and routines within sound working relationships. But it is oh so frustrating to be watching what I watched out there today; our home form has been propped up by our away form this season and it is really difficult to fathom that one as our chances of building on a sometimes exciting foundation slip quietly away for another season.

… and there was absolutely nothing there for the first time fans – or those returning after straying – nothing to put a pride in them and get them wanting to come back next time …

Sadly this week saw the death of Dave Mackay. Mackay first came to fame when bought in to Bill Nicholson’s stylish Tottenham Hotspur team in 1959. Amongst other skills, he bought that portion of uncompromising ball winning talent that is always needed in even the most elegant of teams, helping Spurs do the first “modern double” and was sold to Derby County in 1968. He went on to further successes and managed Walsall for a short while in 1977. He was a genuine icon during the times when soccer was still very much a working man’s game; when challenges and tackles were far more full-blooded than could possibly be imagined these days. He stood for honesty and hard work and never shirked responsibility. I have the memory of the photo of his remonstration with the fiery and thuggish Billy Bremner (Leeds United) which MacKay felt made him look like a bully when he was responding to a potentially career ending challenge  of the Leeds player in his first game back after recovering from a badly broken leg. I have no doubt that the Bremner challenge was meant to intimidate Mackay, but actually had quite the opposite effect.

 

I never understood the popularity of the original Star Trek TV shows for quite a long while. I could never see it as genuine science fiction. Over the years, however my resistance crumbled and I came to like the vision of so many nations – and indeed species – working together to “boldly go” to the frontiers of space and entertainment. Sad news from a different zone of entertainment then that Leonard Nimoy, the iconic Mr Spock also passed away this week. The Vulcan salute and phrase “Live long and prosper” are now part of cinematic culture.

Back, briefly to football news: Chelsea winning the Capital One cup final against Spurs. The first of the season’s trophies.

Meanwhile, I suppose meteorological spring starts tomorrow. Something I caught in passing on TV reminded me that, though I am not keen on the overly-formulaic format Grand Prix racing will soon be kicking its calendar open. Big money, big spectacle races coming up then. Days a  “getting longer” and, although winter always has something left to surprise us it is getting warmer. For dyed in the wool fans there are still games to look forward to: I am happy to get that one – the poorest of the season for me firmly filed in the N for Nightmare file.

Onwards if not upwards from sixteenth position: seven points from the play off places, six

Appointment With the Doctor (Leyton Orient Away)

So, we are away today. Leyton Orient, east London. And I can afford neither the time nor the price of ticket and travel. I enjoy going to away matches, preferably by car with friends and good conversation. The kind of find a parking space game and mixture of banter and important topics discussed.

But it is expensive being a football supporter. The cost of getting to games, even the home ones, food means it is not always possible even if time permits. Worse so and even more so for Premier league supporters where costs can be exorbitantly high.  It’s about the money, of course, but could it also be about lessening the impact of the crowd as “twelfth man”?

Big positive news is that Coventry City have come to some agreement with the Ricoh Arena and will actually be returning to play their games in the city they are named for.  This blog started life as a trip to Coventry (away).

Big world news is the reaction to the slaughter of U.S. journalist by Islam extremists. What a dreadful act! The western world is trying to make moves to come to some kind of terms with this reality and the fact that, inevitably nations will have to sit down and talk with those who are not politically, socially, culturally or financially aligned in order to make any progress. Meantime I cannot escape the “Rhinemann Exchange” conclusion that such wars will only end when the multi-billion pound/dollar/Euro concerns and interests of arms manufacturers and dealers are squashed.  These are the suppliers of massively devastating weaponries that equip all sides with neither fear nor favour. But they operate in a realm far beyond party and national politics.

(For some reason (it doesn’t fit perfectly) I am reminded of a Don Martin cartoon strip. Picture 1: two men on opposite sides of a desert island. One sits beneath a coconut tree. Has plenty to eat as nuts fall from the tree. The second is hungry. Until a wave washes a weapon (I think it was a club) onto the shore. He walks across the island and trades it for a coconut. On his way back he is ambushed by the other man, who knocks him i=unconscious with the club and takes back the coconut.)

Also sweeping the world is the “Ice Bucket Challenge”. It has flooded social networks and is all in a good cause People are literally emptying containers (one is a helicopter; trust me) of ice cold water over themselves. It is being done to raise the profile of Motor Neurone Disease (called ALS in the States I believe). My own favourite involves a lady taking cue cards from a bucket, which explain the whole thing in simple terms and end with a card saying something like “the charity needs donations more than I need to get wet” and her holding a ten dollar bill (OK I’m guessing here) to the camera. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10154464502800371&set=vb.623400370&type=2&theatre

 

Days have been getting colder this week (bank Holiday on Monday of course) but TV is celebrating, in that incestuous way it can have, two half centuries this week.

One: Match of the Day which apparently commenced fifty years ago as a BBC2 programme because “nobody watched BBC 2”. And initially set up for just a single season’s worth. There were serious fears that having football games on TV would mean attendances at games dropped. Instead, perhaps it has spread the audience and made the games accessible to a wider, wiser potential crowd. So many changes in technology, sport, personnel and fashion over the years. Possibly the identity of the show will need to change again, but essentially I’s still all about a fairly simple game and the conditions and circumstances in which it is played.

  

The second is Dr Who. Once again a high profile worldwide cult of a TV experience; complete with merchandising and promotion. I vaguely remember the very first programme – but couldn’t really understand it (though I may at times pretend I could!). William Hartnell the original crotchety “doctor” and the very clever “regeneration” process that has allowed there to be so many new doctors. A stroke of pure genius that move! Now Peter Capaldi steps into the role (following the likes of Tom Baker, Jon Pertwee, Matt Smith, Patrick Troughton and David Tennant). The first of the new series begins later today and I am looking forward to it; whether there be Zarbi, Daleks, Cybermen, Slytheen, yeti  or headteachers that turn into wasps in the plot. I have enjoyed the characters, situations and storylines in the past four or five years (it’s about time travel but who’s counting?).

  

At the moment I am listening to the BBC local radio coverage of West Midlands teams.  The Walsall game is still goalless.

But then there’ the Crystal palace game on Tuesday: tickets already purchased.

Final whistle goes and we’re into the results being read out (not read out with quite the style of guru James Alexander Gordon who died earlier this week after a marvellous forty years of reading the results in such a way that you could almost predict the result – if not the score – on hearing the first syllable).

Leyton Orient nil, Walsall nil.

Forgive me now … have to go soon … appointment with the doctor coming up!

(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!