Seagulls at the Banks’?

Crowds were gathered at Shoreham for the annual Shoreham Air Show last weekend. Something went wrong. Dreadfully wrong – and as is the norm now there were so many cameras on it to record the Hawker Hunter (one of my personal aviation icons) topping out of a loop in blazing sunshine and – somehow, time will perhaps reveal – bottoming out too low and crashing into the nearby A27. Fireball!

Latest death toll yesterday was eleven and set to rise. So sad. And I am a great fan of air shows (though on holiday in Bideford I missed the one at Cosford this year) but this is real tragedy. People and families affected.

Shoreham: close to Brighton. Brighton our visitors this evening in the Capital One Cup. And one of the people who lost their lives in the disaster was a member of the Brighton hospitality staff as well as playing for Worthing F.C. as a genuinely rightful mark of respect before kick-off there was a minute’s silence. Enormously respectful – the whole crowd in harmony for a minute, between referee’s whistles.

 

Then applause and the game began.

Credit to the four hundred and some fans of Brighton who made the long journey; these are real supporters. Travelling the distances for away games in mid-week. As an experiment Walsall have moved away fans into the pitch-side stand, with both “ends” being allocated for Walsall fans. The idea, as best I understand it (and maybe I don’t) is that our team gets vocal support from both ends. This is fairly common at other away grounds. Let’s see what comes of it.

Certainly there were chants from both ends – and enough noise from the Brighton travelling masses.

Now Brighton began the game unbeaten: second in the Championship ( league above us) and started brightly enough. Our defence passing the ball smartly and accurately, but Brighton stronger and appearing fitter (as one might expect from a higher league side). Don’t get me wrong; I am constantly impressed by the levels of fitness shown by the Saddlers team: Jon Whitney has a lot to be proud of. But they also appeared more tactically savvy, changing and adapting and sharper.

Downing guilty of misplacing some passes and giving the ball away.

Referee was also sharp: we got a high number of free kicks in the first fifteen minutes. But then he slacked off, feeling, perhaps that he had established his authority.

Bradshaw playing a lone man up front, busy as ever, but getting nothing from the Brighton defenders. Credit to the striker – he never gave up chasing and harrying. Kieron Morris again supporting brilliantly: some wonderful close control as he ventured on long runs.

The corner score board screen surreally showed the pitch action. Smaller than real life. At rock concerts it is the very opposite: the stage screens show large images. Here we wondered at the point of the exercise. Really necessary?

But a few minutes before half time Brighton player Forster Caskey, after riding a challenge for a defender, decided to throw himself to the ground. Rather than book the blatant diver the referee pointed to the spot and the penalty was scored.

Half time – one of the access doors to the savoy Lounge being jammed we nipped inside for a coffee. Back out again afterwards Walsall’s attitude this season kicked in. they’ re from a higher league? Well, let’s get among ‘em then. Lalkovic, eager in the first half became more of a threat, jinking, turning, her one moment, somewhere different later.

Young, muscular centre half Matt Preston made his season’s debut (was that his parents next to me taking so many photos?) to replace Downing. Sawyers on for Flanagan. A long, perhaps hopeful ball down the line saw Tom Bradshaw, head down getting to it first, bustling past a defender and knocking it into the ox. Sawyers? No, he let it run: Lalkovic, steaming in hammered it home. He is very passionate, this twenty two year old and celebrated long and too hard, earning a yellow card. Such antic s (scoring and heart) have already made his return popular.

Now we were rampant!

But, another Brighton penalty at least as dubious as the first. Blazed high, wide and not terribly handsomely over the bar. To the delight of the Walsall fans ensconced behind the end where, normally Brighton fans would have been. Is this the desired effect?

Game ticking in to last ten minutes, we are well on top, pushing hard. Sawyers, having a much better game against this classier side, swung a ball into the path of raiding forward defender Rico henry: the tiniest player on the pitch. Tiny? But massive hearted; he’d run himself all over the pitch to that point. A great finish – and we hung on for the additional five minutes. Thanks ref!

Who would we like in the next round? I wondered aloud if Milan Lalkovic might like to have a crack at Chelsea the team that let him go.

Whaddaya know? Looking at the draw on the internet: Chelsea at home

The original Mourinho versus the “ginger Mourinho”

Meanwhile in the Athletics World Championships Jessica Ennis-Hill amazed herself and not a few aficionados by blasting her way to a gold medal. Modesty personified she is gritty, committed and gracious, she was uncertain about even competing in these games having given birth to a son just a year ago. Alf Tupper, are you looking in on this? And Greg Rutherford also claimed a gold in the long jump.

… a Time To Speak and a Time to be Silent

Friday, 3rd July

Bescot Stadium

Travelling to National Trust property Charlecote Park on Tuesday, I was drawn to the route that passes close to Bescot Stadium. I am really not sure why. Something to do with the collection of football paraphernalia and often-raw feelings linked to the “three-generations” of one family who followed Walsall?

Thwarted however because the slip road I was aiming for onto the M6 was closed and I had to double back.

David Cameron, British Prime Minister had announced a national minute’s silence for today as a mark of respect for the thirty eight victims of a single murderer on the holiday beaches of Tunisia last Friday. Among them were  three Saddlers Supporters – Joel Richards, Adrian Evans and Charles ‘Patrick’ Evans.  Joel was 19 years of age and a season-ticket holder. He was a budding referee and a student at the University of Worcester. His uncle, 49 year-old Adrian, who worked for Sandwell Council, was also a season-ticket holder here at Banks’s Stadium, whilst his father, Charles, 78, was a keen follower of the club and a great lover of football.

Again today,  a little more knowingly I was drawn to the ground where a battery of media cameras and reporters made something of a circus of the simple ceremony. However they were generally unobtrusive.

I recognised some faces in the crowd that had, like me gathered. To pay respects to local people who have  no role to play in the crazy politics that took their lives. There is no right time to be in the wrong place. But Bescot Stadium today was exactly the right place to be. The ever-increasing squares of memorial displays glowed in the sunshine: Messages from Sunderland, Wolves, Baggies, Villa, Glasgow Rangers supporters add weight to the shirts, flags and teddy bears from our own club. Loyal supporters responding to loyal supporters. Across the usual tribal borders. Because what happened was wrong: insanely so!

Staff from Bescot turned out, the players (including new signings defender Jason Demetriou and goalkeeper Neil Etheridge), back-room and commercial staff were all there. Such a shame that this had to be necessary, but credit to all who turned out. Of course many people: at work or at school were unable to be there, but were there in spirit.

The feeling in the crowd more used to milling and celebrating (or not) together at matches was understandably quiet; reflective … grasping perhaps to find and answer the question written on so many of the artefacts under the walls:

Why?

The silence was started by the blowing of a referee’s whistle (what else?) – and ended by the same. Club chaplain, former player Peter Hart (also vicar at St James’ church, Cannock) lead a few prayers: well-chosen, appropriate words. There followed a fine round of applause which echoed between the outside walls of the ground and the Saddlers Club. I became aware of the crowded M6 again, the bright sunlight.

A guy standing near me, moving away commented that we should be singing

“We’ll keep the Walsall family flyin’ high,”

Interesting thought, but the silence and the applause were enough I think. Time for the songs when the games begin.

England ladies were cruelly knocked out of the World Cup, losing the semi-final against japan in the final seconds of normal time, when stalwart defender Bassett , trying to clear the ball put it into our net. Bravely done though ladies: bringing some pride back to international football. Pride, style and integrity indeed.

Wimbledon began this week: record high temperatures and some fine tennis being played. One of the early surprises – to the media at any rate was the defeat of Rafa Nadal by a German player Dustin Brown. What’s next?

Bristol City (home)

I am just setting this down (or a first draft* of it anyway) after watching an absorbing second half of extra time in this year’s F.A. Cup semi-final between Arsenal and Wigan Athletic. Wigan, last year’s winners are in the Championship this year and lost in the penalty shoot-out.

I arrived at the banks’ Stadium with plenty of time to spare. Time to collect a ticket ordered and efficiently saved by the friendly box office team (thanks to each and all), time to get in and find a seat, take of my coat and ponder the Hillsborough disaster (25 years ago on Tuesday to be date-specific).

How would you cope with going to another football match if you had lost friends or relatives at that game? If you had been in the stadium, in that fateful Leppings Lane End yourself? I thought about this for a good twenty minutes (an, truth to tell, I am still considering it as I type). The terrible, terrible pressure and events inside the ground while it was going on. The attempts to save people, lifting them up to the higher terraces, passing children up the fence, straddling the fence to reach down …

All bad enough.

But the facts which have since emerged are, if it is possible, shades worse.

The attempts to blame (no other word will fit the facts now coming to light for me) innocent people who had gone to watch a game. To, at best, suggest they were bent on trouble, had done something wrong, tried to get in without tickets, were drunk, were badly behaved hooligans.

The changing of evidences given, the manipulation of times and timelines …

Said simply at the beginning of a minute’s silence (a mark of deep respect) at today’s game in the following words:

“Twenty five years ago, ninety six Liverpool fans went to a game and didn’t make it home afterwards …”

Poignant words, saying it like it was. I am not sure whether this was a scripted piece and the same words read out at every ground … but it was completely silent inside the stadium. I could hear the lorries growling their ways up and down the nearby M6. It seems these days I am more affected by these memorial silences. Perhaps it is a sign of maturity/old age, but in joining in with the “respectful silence” I was engaged with it. Those poor people, those poor families and friends – then and now. So may lives ended (shocking thing that: ended!) so many lives changed: immediately then and still now.

Ended by the referee’s whistle and the game began. Bristol City, in some danger of relegation had bought a big host of fans. Crowded in and noisy behind the goals. Some good banter across the length of the pitch.

Bristol City song: “More fans than you’ve got,

                                We’ve got more fans than you’ve got.”

Walsall reply; “More points than you’ve got …”

Sharp start from both teams in the bright sunshine. We’re a passing team playing shapes and passes like the Premiership clubs do and I love to watch the skill; the way Walsall players know where another one is going to be. It hasn’t always been that way. I am pleased that it is now. We’re even having some decent shots at goal.

Bristol City are struggling to stay in League One. But they struggle purposefully. They close down, harry and while we look confident they slowly but surely peg us back. Still fine passing but a long way from their goals. And, once or twice the defence looks under pressure and I’m thinking those “if only” thoughts.

“If only we had a way of scoring from our possession … if only we had a striker (be damned to the who-to-leave-out quandary) … if only we could give the defence some breathing space by netting early on …”

There’s some kind of nonsense across on the left wing. Ngoo, on loan from Liverpool, is fouled (apparently) and the big centre half who did it ends up on the floor. hold your breath. Is it a red card? Ngoo looks furious. but the referee is lenient and simply gives him a yellow card. the referee lets quite a few things go actually (dives (and there are a lot of those from Bristol City) and fouls) but it adds a bit of old-fashioned needle to the game.

And while I’m thinking Andy Taylor, befuddled by a stray ball in the box, tries to turn and clear (at least that’s what I think he was doing) and trips up a Bristol City striker. Did I mention it was in the penalty area. Sam Baldock stepped up and scored and their fans were delighted – and noisy. Who can blame ‘em. Getting themselves out of trouble, setting themselves up for another crack at us next season to, I shouldn’t wonder.

It’s a woeful traipse into the lounge. Nobody’s asking for season tickets any more.

Second half? How many times have we seen this? We’ve gone behind so we step up the pace, the aggression, the momentum.  Ngoo goes down in the box … penalty. Who is going to take it? Our usual Mr Football penalty taker is suspended, remember?

Ngoo had a crack at one way back and missed. Sam Mantom, like a twenty first century Alf Tupper places the ball on the spot. We’re happy with that. He’s got a powerful shot, scored some useful ones from outside the box. Steps up, places the ball (not power-blasting it) and the goalkeeper has time to make the save look effortless.

Heads go down.

Brandy is everywhere, Baxendale looks sharp, but cannot get forwards, Sawyers is his usual irritatingly talented but casual self.

McQuilkin comes on, plays with ferocity and determination and it’s furious, furious, furious. Another long last minute.

Nothing will of nothing come and Cully’s been saying “pointless” all game. A good prediction. We are! And, almost certainly out of the play-off stakes now.

BBC radio WM informs me on the way back in the car that we have now won fourteen games, drawn fourteen and – you’ve guessed it – lost fourteen. Consistent or what.

Elsewhere, Wolves have beaten Crewe (away) to clinch promotion. Good luck the them, Kenny Jackett has turned the club around (no easy task).

*Actually I let most of it stand as I typed it: a few typos to tweak and punctuation errors. Oh and I did just say something good about Wolverhampton Wanderers and let it stay in.

Photos courtesy of Bristol Post.