Seconds Out: Round Three {F.A. Cup: Brentford Away)

Last week we were walking from the car to the ground when my mobile phone went. It was tucked away under several layers of clothes, but I managed to dig it out and answer before it rang out. Cully was in the queue to get tickets for the F.A. Cup game at Brentford. Would I like one? Not half!

But, even before we had finished a short conversation the card had gone up: all allocation sold, no tickets left.

So we satisfied ourselves by getting tickets for the Tuesday game at Coventry.

But that is truly amazing: we will be taking about sixteen hundred fans down to Griffin Park! To this “showdown” against the team now managed by our former manager Dean Smith (one time “Ginger Mourinho”)

Between then and now Ben Stokes, England cricketer has absolutely smashed some records in a test match against top class opposition: South Africa in Capetown. Some of the records that, amazingly, fell:

Fastest Test double century by an England batsman

• Highest score by an England batsman at Newlands, beating Jack Hobbs’ 187 in 1910

• Most sixes by an England batsman (11), surpassing Wally Hammond in 1933

• Most runs scored in a day of Test cricket in South Africa (453), beating the 450 made by Australia in Johannesburg in 1921.

While I find it hard to become too involved in cricket (perhaps because I was never very good at it at school) this is a wonderful story and speaks volumes for an obviously talented player. Worth a mention, too is his partner at the stumps: Yorkshire’s Bairstow who would almost certainly have made his own headlines on any other day, displaying impressively powerful hitting of his own. The 26-year-old Yorkshire wicketkeeper hit five fours and a six in the space of nine balls and now averages 104 in three matches against South Africa.

 

Back to football and, at work we were discussing this weekend’s F.A. Cup games. This is the third round: the one where Premier League teams join the draw. So, after the early stages we now have all the teams in action. The time for historic giant killings? But over the past few years some upper echelon teams have played weakened teams and been knocked out, because, essentially the F.A. Cup has lost its prestige.

So my oppo, the Blues supporter reckons that in the Blues vs Bournemouth game both teams will play “lesser” teams. We cannot decide whether this means there will be more goals or less – and how about the quality of the game?

Will we see weakened teams in the Bees v Saddlers game? Both managers are in the media saying that, in each case the next games in the leagues (Championship for Birmingham, League One for us) are more important. But is it bluff or true? Psychological rambling?

The BBC, meanwhile is all over the F.A. Cup; one of the few major events it now televises. So there was a game on – and live on TV on Friday night. League Two Exeter playing Premier League Liverpool.

 

Exeter manager Paul Tisdale was one of the people allegedly considered for the Walsall job a month or so ago. the game is played on a very soggy pitch it is an intriguing game. Either out of faith in his younger players, desperation because of injuries or disrespect for the team from the lower league Liverpool governor Jurgen Klopp plays a team with few, if any recognisable names in it. Exeter go ahead; early on. Liverpool equalise. Exeter go ahead again with a sweet goal scored direct from a corner (unbelievable!) and Liverpool scrape another equaliser. Credit to Exeter, of course. Also to the young Liverpool players for their grit and determination.

 

So now the big question: it is, of course, super for Exeter to have the replay at Anfield financially, but will Klopp play a similar side at Anfield? Will he dare to … in front of the home fans?

 

What if we introduce a new rule: Premiership teams that only draw with teams from leagues one or Two forfeit the game. Should do away with the need for bothersome replays, and add spice to the F.A. Cup ties. Which do not get the respect they deserve from some clubs. Speaking of which Aston Villa manage to score in a one all draw at Wycombe ( a League two team). And I have a secret fear that, while hoping we play brilliantly and win, it will be an opportunity for Brentford staff to cast an eye over our players. And I don’t like that! (Our manager Sean O’Driscoll is quoted as denying the rumour about an offer from an un-named (perhaps Brentford?) Championship team already for Tom Bradshaw.

So, tinkering about at home pre-Walsall game, I discover that I can actually either watch BBC WM live (interesting) or get a full match commentary on the game. It is not a question: I go for the commentary: Rob Gurney and former Walsall player James Chambers. Fair team out for Walsall and seems we are playing two up front: Bradshaw and Lalkovic. Kinsella is in for right back and Rico Henry is back in to play down the left wing. According to the commentary (with the down to earth comments from Chambers) it seems we are not disgracing ourselves, then getting on top …

Then, with Downing moving forwards into the Brentford half Sam Mantom gets off a shot that fizzes into the Brentford net after thirty five minutes. I am impressed; Dean Smith perhaps less so.

 

In the second half Brentford boss the game, but we are stubborn and they cannot get past. It is raining heavily. Some substitutions made by both teams and, near the end there’s a tremendously powerful header from O’Connor (so we’re clearly not backs-to-the-wall defending) that comes back off the Brentford post

… and we are into the next round.

A couple of clearly delighted Walsall fans are on air, and asked about Dean Smith they say his departure from Bescot felt like “if your girlfriend leaves you for a midget …” An interesting analogy even if I am sure it is not how most of us see the switch.  Sean O’Driscoll was far more generous, giving Smith and O’Kelly praise for putting together a squad with such a fine spirit. Now our former manager can get on and concentrate on trying to get into the Premiership. I wish him well with that.

Meanwhile I am guessing/hoping we have all got Dean Smith out of our systems and the team we support is now well and truly Sean O’Driscoll’s.

Round Four: now, who do we fancy?

Be good to get a home game!

Post Script: Blues end up losing to Bournemouth; Wolves also go out.

 

•  

Inspired? Chesterfield Away.

Undoubtedly the biggest news story of the week has been the crash – and subsequent findings – of a Germanwings passenger (an Airbus 320) plane en route from Barcelona to Dusseldorf. All on board were almost immediately reported as killed when the plane crashed into the French Alps. Subsequent investigations seem to show that the co-pilot, alone on the flight deck deliberately crashed the aeroplane. So many relatives and friends already upset are, naturally finding this news hard to take. Airlines are, also properly, changing the rules about the number of crew required in the cockpit at anytime.

I feel for all of those who have lost loved ones, including the parents of the co-pilot.

And so: past the spring equinox and tree blossom is everywhere, rooks nesting and robins nest building in our back garden.

Steve Gerrard, playing in his last season for Liverpool (after an illustrious and magnificent career) came on as substitute in a key match against Manchester United (high rivalries in such games) and after committing a horrible foul was properly sent off after less than a minute. Gerrard has been a key figure for both Liverpool and England, a combative midfielder with emotion, heart, vision, pride, energy, a strong tackle and a powerful shot shouldered the responsibility and manfully apologised to his team mates who lost the game 2 -1. He was, perhaps trying to set an example to his colleagues who had been cowed by the physicality of the United challenges. Hyped up, perhaps frustrated, he wanted to get stuck in. But his tackle was dangerous. He was man enough to do the right thing. I give him credit for this.

Similarly, our on-loan Michael Cain, much younger and less experienced tweeted his disappointment at not playing at Wembley on Sunday (now a fading memory for me) apologised to the team, apparently for his “unprofessional” outburst. Again, credit to the player. It should not be about what happens but how it is dealt with.

While appreciating that we were beaten by a better – and better prepared – team I remain disappointed by the poor Saddlers  performance at Wembley but have renewed my season ticket. The black T shirt I ordered well before the JPT final ironically arrived on the Tuesday following the game there.

Emblazoned with the slogan

“Walsall Football Club is for Life, not Just For Wembley” it is a statement of intent, purpose. We made some money, had a fine experience and … our next game, against Chesterfield, less than two hours away is  beckoning. Anybody else fancy the trip?

Apparently not … until I get a call from Andy and we arrange the trip between us.

I’m fairly certain that, between us and the “Football Traffic” road signs we’ll be able to find the ground, but check it out anyway. The Chesterfield web-site has details of “what to see” In Chesterfield and the legendary “crooked spire” features prominently. St Mary and All Saints church dominates the Chesterfield skyline which dates back to the 14th century, and is most known for its twisted spire, an architectural phenomenon.

Added to the 14th century tower in about 1362 it is both twisted (45 degrees) and leaning and leaning 9 feet 6 inches (2.90 m) from its true centre. The leaning characteristic was initially suspected to be the result of the absence of skilled craftsmen (the Black Death had been gone only twelve years prior to the spire’s completion), insufficient cross-bracing, and the use of unseasoned timber. It is now believed that the twisting of the spire was caused by the lead that covers the spire. The lead causes this twisting phenomenon, because when the sun shines during the day the south side of the tower heats up, causing the lead there to expand at a greater rate than that of the north side of the tower, resulting in unequal expansion and contraction.

It is this that gives the football club the nickname of “the Spireites”.

When I get to Andy’s, lo and behold if his brother isn’t there too and, happily we set off together; inevitably comparing Wembley experiences and thoughts. But, we all agree there is only one focus now: the next game and not getting involved in a dull end-of-season battle to avoid relegation.

Chesterfield is yet another second chance and although Romaine Sawyers is out on international duty (St Nevis and St Kitts) we are expecting some steel in the performance.

Parking on a supermarket car park within spitting distance of the ground we pop into a local pub for a beer. It is a seriously old-fashioned pub but, despite the two huge “security me” atop the steps that lead into the bar it is friendly and crowded. This pub might well have been dying on its feet – then what a godsend: the new football ground is built opposite!

Proact Stadium looks good from the outside, aspirational glass fronted (giving me the impression of an aquarium!) and optimistic . But away supporters have to buy tickets from a plastic kiosk around the corner and, although there is something of a dated “space age” look to the inside the corners are open, and seating is limited. The ground looks full with the six thousand spectators that pack in. Good support from Walsall fans, who, let’s face it have had an expensive week.

Tom Bradshaw is out with the hamstring, Baxendale preferred to Cain or Grimes in mid field and Downing replaced by O’Connor.

We notice that the formation seems to have two strikers: Hiwula and Cook. An interesting change, we decide, but Cook is not a natural in this role and soon is dropping back. At right back Purkiss looks overmatched. Baxendale can’t get any runs going, Sam Mantom is locked out for most of the first half and we fail to get a shot on target. Chesterfield, while not bossing it, are capable of pushing us back into our own half and making us defend, sometimes quite desperately. And they use their wingers well, with some accurate long passing going on. There are a string of decisions from the referee that are inexplicable, including one, where, as he questions the assistant referee, he seems to be making the excuse that the sun is in his eyes, so he didn’t see. At least poor.

  

But the two Chambers brothers, James and Adam are valiantly rushing about and O’Connor is busy and competent. We are trying, as usual, it seems to soak up pressure and hit on the counter attack. With a fully fit Tom Bradshaw we can be deadly at this tactic. He has “beefed up”, works tirelessly and puts pressure on the whole backline. He also has speed and the ability to hold the ball. Hiwula is a fine player, but not, sorry, in the same league. So we struggle.

In the second half we continue to struggle. Yes, there is determination there, but gaps appear in our midfield and the defence is stretched. We concede corner after corner and free kick after free kick. A flurry of substitutions: on 61 minutes Baxendale and Forde are replaced by Benning (able to find space and get in some of his characteristic guided-missile runs (with fluffed shots at the end of them!) and Cain. On eighty one minutes Reece Flanagan replaces Adam Chambers.

This creates confusion; Benning and Flanagan seem unsure who and where to mark when defending set pieces and  on eighty six minutes and Chesterfield go ahead with a Sam Hird header.

Smart phones out on the way back. We are now one point clear of the relegation zone and have eight games left until the end of the season. I daresay there will be reassuring noises from Dean Smith, but this is definitely not the end of the season I was expecting.

Two very local clubs (Shrewsbury and Burton Albion) are currently leading League Two. Theses would be great teams to play against next season … but we have to keep our League One place. It’s true that there is time and we have the “togetherness factor”, just as it is true we could mathematically qualify in a play-off place, but recent performances have not been inspiring. I cannot remember the time we set about a game and forcefully pinned a team back in their own half, harrying them into mistakes (the way Chesterfield did to us today).

Our next home game is on Good Friday, but I have a wedding to go to. By the time the couple are married things should be clearer.

Stags and Shrews (Shrewsbury at home: F.A. Cup First Round)

I walk out of the hotel. I’m going to be in a taxi, on a plane, in a minibus for the next ten hours or so. I need some fresh air. Some light exercise. Just an hour’s walk around to clear the cobwebs, get the blood circulating.

And to stand for two minutes silence at eleven o’clock. This is the first time I can remember when I have not been in England at a Remembrance Sunday service. And this one is a hundred years after the beginning of the war that everyone believed would end all wars.

I plan to hold my token silence at the War of Independence Victory Column just around the corner from the hotel. Outside looked very wet from inside the hotel, with rainwater funnelled off roofs by downspouts that resemble a giant’s speaking tube … emptying water not into drains but onto the pavement. But, by the time I am wrapped up and walking through the automatically operated doors there are patches of blue sky and it is not as cold as we had feared. Very hospitable climate indeed – and people too.

But I have a few minutes to spare before eleven – and want to explore a little more. I walk outside the Old Walled City. I notice some movement: a bloke climbing a stepladder, pulling plastic sheeting off … off,

Wow!

It’s unmistakeable: a section of the former Berlin Wall. And connections are made between what I had been watching on BBC’s World TV channel this morning.

It is twenty five years since the “collapse” of the Berlin Wall. I stroll, but rapidly across the tramlines and traffic (there really isn’t much). The people are preparing an official ceremony. Covering up the wall section with black silk. There’s a German flag on one side and an Estonian flag on the other.

I get two quick phone photos before it is covered (I can work out how to get them onto the internet later I hope). A lady there explains to me the significance. The figures tumble around inside my head.

Ten years ago Estonia got independence, twenty five years ago the Berlin Wall fell, a hundred years ago World War One began. Shocking! Numbers eh?

I manage my silence, get back to My City Hotel in time to clamber into a taxi, explain to the driver we want the airport not the seaport (others were not so lucky, trust me) and we are off into that zombie world of international travel. Bring on some form of teleportation that doesn’t end up with me having the head and limb of a random fly a la Vincent Price B movies.

I have had a great adventure on this “stag night trip”; met new people, seen new things and added to my knowledge. Lit a couple of candles in the Russian Orthodox Church for “absent” and inspirational friends. Hearing some rehearsal for an organ recital from the Lutheran “dome” church.

Awake all of Thursday night/Friday morning talking about horror films, families, jobs, houses and travel – and watching YouTube clips. Travelling down to Gatwick Airport in a cramped minibus and flying into Tallinn.

Hotel then a succession of drinking holes. A fascinating old walled city, magical in the flame-lamp lit, damp-cobbled evening. Good food, variety of places to eat and happy people: mostly tourists. A welcoming city, interesting sights with free-information signboards explaining historical significance and contexts.

Bed reasonable early. Breakfast good. A walk of the town: Toompea, the churches, the viewing points and embassies. Coffee and cake, then we visit military antique shops, one that, sadly has church icons for sale (from where and how old and with what traditions I cannot help wondering) and fail to reach an agreeable barter for a Quadrophenia Soundtrack vinyl LP (two Euros and a pack of unopened Walsall F.C. playing cards not having the buying power we expected you see). Then meeting “the lads” for a “sports fest” in a sports bar.

     

Beginning with the Chelsea Liverpool game (a couple of Liverpool fans on the trip disappointed by the result), Rugby Union: England vs New Zealand (final score 21 – 24) and the Formula 1 from Brazil.

Inevitably it gets raucous. I step out for bread and cheese and a coffee, wondering how Walsall are getting on against Shrewsbury in the F.A. Cup game (you can use your ‘phone where the group are, but have to pay a forfeit: roll the dice and drink a nominated drink: by now the rules are that you have to “neck it in one”).

When I get to find out we are losing 2 -1, but there’s a Tom Bradshaw (wouldn’t you know it?) deflected-off-the-knee equaliser in added time.

So – a replay for us … and a chance to go?

After the long afternoon of sport, there’s more serious drinking time. Four of us split off for a meal and when we get back there’s a short been bought for me. I neck it and, retreat being the better part of valour, retire early. With good memories and good company assured.

Sheffield United next in the regional semi-final of the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy.

Gillingham: Home

Strange how days seem to merge and blur over the Easter break. With the game at Carlisle on Good Friday the day seemed like a Saturday with me typing on the computer, listening to the radio commentaries and actually expecting there to be a Match of the Day on TV (there wasn’t of course). Saturday seemed strange with Premiership matches going on (including Sunderland beating Chelsea at Stamford Bridge handing Liverpool a good chance to establish a real challenge for the title in Sunday’s game (they took it, beating Norwich City fairly convincingly)).

And today’s bank Holiday home game against Gillingham adding to the confusion.

Or was it only confusing for me?

The people at the booking office have been great this season, courteous, efficient and helpful. I will not be needing this service next season as I now have a season ticket (apart from advance buying away tickets and – ooo-er – tickets for our –we can but hope – Cup run). My thanks to them all.

Bright, sunny journey. Birds singing, my car freshly cleaned inside and flowers springing up everywhere. Gossip on BBC WM is that David Moyes will be sacked by Man United (this is the way that rumours start, I’m thinking, start, build up credibility and become fact). I am deeply jealous of the resources that man Utd have (or apparently command) but aware that behind that is the spiral-drive for success and then success-plus. I had hoped that a club like United would stand against the trends. Moyes was reasonably successful at Everton after all and, in my opinion deserves a longer bedding-in period. Sir Alex Ferguson was always going to be a tricky act to follow; he managed the football and commercial aspects of the job well – the pressures too!

Meanwhile – it could all be rumour and supposition a la radio – in local place and time I am parked and marching to the ground, past loitering supporters on mobile phones and deep in desultory conversations I head for the seat that will have my name on it next season.

Westcarr’s back from suspension, Lalkovic recovered from his hamstring strain and Gillingham, on paper, poor opposition.

We start strongly, rattle the Gills defence then settle back a little tamely. Febian Brandy is, typically, keen to do well, so too is Lalkovic. They might both be playing to attract attention from Championship scouts, hoping to get deals for next season. I hope we can keep Brandy, but also sensibly think he may cost too much for our means. Lalkovic too.

Paul Downing appears to lead a charmed life today, the referee not penalising what looked like fouls and at least one penalty, eventually and predictably getting booked for a fairly innocuous one later in the game. No appeals from the Gillingham players either, who are starting to look direct and capable. Mal Benning meanwhile, playing at left back is raiding up the wings like a good ‘un, full of pace and ambition and tricky ball skills taking him into some good positions. He rains crosses into the penalty area. Too bad no Walsall player can get on to the end of them.

There is a good following from Gillingham, it’s a long way to travel (a hundred and sixty something miles, translates as three hours or so of travel) at this stage of the season, so fair play to their faithful (a.k.a. noisy) supporters.

Not so many Walsall supporters here. Busy gardening? Decorating? Lost interest? Out of money?

We talk about the November stag night. Venue fixed. Tallin. Flights and hotel to be organised. Leaving Stansted at seven a.m. doesn’t sound too bright but gives us more time in the city I guess. I am looking forward to it – fly out on Friday, back on Sunday … but hope there isn’t a home match that weekend.

Half time. Inside for a coffee. Talk about families, work. Almost forget we are at a football game and kick off has been taken and play is under way as we saunter back out to our seats. Nearby a man is scribbling notes on to a paper. I guess he is a scout for one of the teams we have yet to play. What an interesting task and I wonder how they actually do it? Some pre-arranged format?

Good open play from both teams, but Westcarr tried a couple from long range (unusual for Walsall this season) and from one of them the ball came back off the keeper’s outstretched hand to Brandy, running in to blast into the back of the net.

Some minutes before the end Gillingham are level. The umpteenth team we have helped avoid relegation in the last few weeks … and we have won only two of the last sixteen games. Good job we put a shift in early on in the season.

Elsewhere, tensions are still going on between Russia, the Ukraine and the rest of the world.

It’s Queen Elizabeth’s eighty eighth birthday. She celebrates with a rare “private day” at home with the family, while all over London there are military gun-salutes. We do pageantry so well.

It is also the fiftieth birthday of BBC 2.

Across the pond Boston is extremely security conscious about its annual marathon, following the harrowing scenes at the finish line last year, when terrorists exploded a bomb as runners were finishing. Dreadful!

We were in Boston in October of last year. Having been on an escorted “leaf Peeper” tour of New England and out in the rural parts for many days, Boston seemed intimidatingly cityish as we drove in, but soon took on human proportions as we walked out across the Common.

match images; saddlers.co.uk and Walsall Advertiser

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.