Just the Ticket? Port vale Away.

Back in 1971, a friend and I stared at some strapping, side-burned man in a too-tight jacket having his photo taken on the pitch at Fellows park (Walsall’s previous home ground). He was physically impressive and had an air of real thuggish menace about him.

“He’s havin’ his photo taken,” my mate explained, “’cos he’s been banned from the ground and all the entrances need to know what he looks like …”

That massive hulking figure was none other than Bernie “the Bolt” Wright. A giant, uncompromising old-fashioned centre forward who terrorised defences with his ask-no-mercy, expect-no-mercy brand of play. He moved on to Everton, was involved in a very unsavoury incident there when he floored a coach but left a mark as he created an impression on the Everton fans, who, Wikipedia has it, remember him for using his head to accidentally break the toe of Sheffield Utd defender Eddie Colquhon during an attempted diving header.

He came back to Saddlers, played with us for a further four years and ended his league career at Port Vale. This weekend’s last-scheduled game of the season.

Travelling to away games, concerts or work back in those days we imbued him with supernatural powers – if there was thunder we’d say it was Bernie’s temper. Either that or Keith Moon playing Heaven’s drums.

Saturday and I’m driving back from my mother’s. She wasn’t in and it was unseasonably hot. I was thinking of getting out the fire-pit and sitting outside later in the evening with a beer. But the sky grew dark – and memories of associating thunder with Bernie came flooding back.

Here was a behemoth who plied his trade at both grounds. Was the long lasting thunder – and seriously heavy downpour some kind of omen? For whom?

I’d reminded my brother that I had the tickets for the Vale game … and that it was a 12.30 kick off. Arranged to get him at ten o’clockish. A steady drive I’m thinking; I can find the Vale ground with my eyes closed (actually incorrect and rather risky). But then – help – I could only find one ticket for the match – an all-ticket occasion, local derby!

Then it dawned on me – he had bought the tickets and kept his own. Panic over – at least for the moment.

Saddlers Widow had baked some lemon meringue pies – courtesy of passing through Bakewell on the route home from Sheffield United – https://saddlersfan.wordpress.com/2016/04/04/sheffield-united-away – for each and every one of us (that’ll be seven then).

The M6 is apparently closed so we slip along the A34, miss the Longton turning and end up going the long way round via the A500. Stuck in traffic, there will be three thousand three hundred Walsall fans on the roads, rails and pavements. We dodge in and out of the rabbit warren side streets and end up with a near perfect spot on top of the hill. Long, warm walk down the Hamil Road, carrying the pies in a carrier bag. Half way down, compulsively checking I realize that I no longer have my ticket.

Rude words!

I send my brother onwards and go and check the car. Phew! There it is, down the side of the hand-brake! The rest of the “team” are inside, the pavements are crowded, flashing lights, police motor bikes, searched before we go in: fortunately there is no problem with the bag of desserts; though we have to take off our hats and have them rousted.

Once inside we have to queue to get through to a wonderfully crowded away end. Behind the goals. Seats are scarce but Cully has some saved for us: good spot. Quick nods and we stand and watch. It is noisy: the Saddlers fans are giving it the twelfth man business!

 

We know what we have to do; win by two clear goals at a team with one of the best home records this season … and a mean defence too. Then we depend on Doncaster beating Burton Albion, who start the day three points ahead of us.

There is tremendous energy about those pre-kick off moments: the pitch, the skies hot and clear. Just around the corner from “our end” are the Port Vale “choir”; strange that the two opposing fans are so close together: this is not normal … but, seriously? The Walsall fans are there to support their team, egg ‘em on, drive the team on. And the songs and encouragement is spinal Tap eleven. There are beach balls, inflatable crocodiles, killer whales, balloons, and bananas bobbling about. People in fancy dress. Big smiles, handshakes, and a will to win!

…oh and a killer Lemmy track to get the blood stirred up (Lemmy Kilminster born in Stoke on Trent: citizen of rock and roll excesses, bless ‘im).

We kick off defending “our “ end. Because that is the second part of the job: don’t concede goals!

Oh and did I mention we had to win by two goals?

Former Walsall full back ben Purkiss is pushing up forwards. He’s against the flying-all-season Rico henry, so is, we guess trying to deny him room to run. God luck with that then. Lalkovic is really fired up, he is so passionate and inclined to get carried away, but is a good ball carrier – and unpredictable. Perhaps we need that today?

Non-stop noise – and people all around with smart phones to get the news from Doncaster.

Vale are a physical team, bit rough in some of the challenges. We have the players to go toe-to-toe with this, but, when one of our runners is fouled we all want a free kick. The referee waves play on. We have the ball, the advantage – and Downing is running in to put the ball. Into. The. Net.

The away end, crammed and crowded goes bouncing crazy. One nil up? So early! Wonderful. Just what the doctor ordered! And Downing? Pushing up so far forwards?

Well, don’t knock it, if it works.

Soon we are pushing up again. Using the wings – and Forde is a revelation – again. Chambers using his energy and experience. Everybody standing up – off the pitch as well as on it. Another sweeping attack and the ball is in the net again. Tom Bradshaw has got his twentieth goal of the season! Tanking through in a way that Bernie Wright would have recognised.

That’s the two goals then! What’s next?

Because if, just if, Doncaster could get that one simple, single goal, this could be a real party!

Just more and more pressure from a team that is in full flow, showing togetherness, skill and determination. A great final game of the season, now if Doncaster could just …

We have the ball in the Vale net again; this time it is Forde. Three goals! I am sure everybody is thinking this – or maybe just me – this is truly miraculous; it means we can give a goal away – as we often do – and still have the necessary two goals in the bag.

Half time. I slump into the seat. All that standing up! I need a rest. What a remarkable turn around since that day up at Bradford: real character from Whitney and the team. Respect. Still nil-nil oop north. But at least Burton aren’t winning – and anything can happen – so quickly in a game of football.

At half time there is a procession of teams around the ground. I guess these are the Port Vale under elevens, under thirteens and so on. It would swell the gate to have their parents here. And, credit to the Walsall fans: we give them a round of applause as they pass by. A cynical part of my brain, meanwhile is thinking: good commercial move, the team has nothing to play for, so get a few more bums on seats by parading the teams and their parents, friends et cetera make up the numbers. Like I said, the cynical side …

In fact, lemon meringue pies consumed and approved, we are on our feet again, the second half has kicked off and some guy in front of us looks up from his phone and announces that Doncaster have scored. Well, it seems they had the ball in the net – but the ref disallowed it.

 

Port Vale at this point seem to be rather going through the motions. They were canny enough in the first half but they have little to play for, probably didn’t bother with full training this week and may be off to catch planes to holiday destinations before the sun sets over the Potteries canal bridges.

 

And we go four nil up. Sloppy clearance lands for Antony Forde, who races forwards, skillful ball control and belts it into the net.

Just. Need. That. Goal. Atdoncaster!  There are substitutions: Sam Mantom comes on. He hasn’t been on long when the ball drops for him and he rifles it straight into the net.

This is amazing stuff.

Come on Doncaster!

But we get to hear that Doncaster are down to ten men. Not sure if somebody has been sent off – but they have used all their subs. Maybe Burton’ll score an own goal?

Then, strangely Doncaster are down to nine men. Nigel Clough’s bully boy tactics? Intimidate the opposition? Whatever it is, it is working for them

We are five nil up – but points behind.

Still, this has been an exhilarating season – and it doesn’t finish at the final whistle.

Automatic promotion? No. But the play offs are now next for us now. We play Barnsley away next Saturday, then at home the following Thursday.

Port Vale generously allow the Walsall team and management to come over and celebrate the last game of the league season (play offs are a separate entity). While this is happening, most of the home fans join in the applause, but a few spoil it with rude behaviour. Including one “hero” who, probably drunk and a bit, launches himself over the wall, tries to barge through the police lines and ends up, red-faced and restrained by the boys (and girls)in blue. Good job!

We squeeze out and travel along gently friendly roads. Still a chance of getting up then.

There is no point at all, though it is doubtless being done on coaches, paths and in cars, wondering where we could have nabbed those extra few points (for me, ironically the game at Burton) that would have us promoted already.

It is enough on this bright, warm day to have seen such a display: dominant, aggressive, skillful and entertaining.

Credit to Burton Albion: promotion wasn’t won by a single game, but by a gradual aggregation of points, goals, knock-backs and hard work. A small club, with a tiny budget, doing well through dogged determination and pride, against the odds. Respect is earned; you have mine.

But super credit to our players, to all of those who have worked in the back-rooms, pits and engine-rooms; to those I have been on the road with – and …

…we are still in it: still shouting, still up for it.

Dare to believe, indeed!

Villa for Sale or Rent: Swindon at Home

Don’t doubt this club’s commitment – and plain common sense – to putting everything (well almost!) behind this marvellous push for promotion. Something I would often write, more in jest (or false optimism; which is the same thing surely?) than in hope:

“Promotion in our time…” is a looming reality. We just have to match whatever Burton Albion do, or better – oh and win our game in hand.

But commitment? No sooner had the ink dried on the pages of the Express and Star than the club announced a “Friend for a Fiver” game. Any season ticket holder could use up the E voucher in their season ticket and get a ticket for the said fiver to Tuesday evening’s home game against mid-table Swindon. Mid-table? No problem for the mighty Saddlers surely? And then there’s the cunning but well intentioned rabble-rousing (except we aren’t rabble are we?) from man-in-charge Jon Witney, in the press. Disguised as a too-early team news release he praises the Walsall crowd(who cheered –almost to a man, woman, child and dog)the team on to the win on Saturday.

Witney’s message is that “since you were so good on Saturday I pick you for the next game.”

Clever, shrewd, empowering – and meant to bring a few extras in to the game.

Incidentally we are consistently one of the last teams to announce, publicly, the starting line-up for any game. This from my social media vulture and sometime soul mate Jack. He who agonises every game day because the team hasn’t been announced (on Twitter or wherever) and then rages because it has and it doesn’t quite match …

But, news from elsewhere in the local football world. A few minutes up the M6 Aston Villa have – finally – been relegated. Losing to Manchester United was the final nail in their Premier League coffin. They have been imploding quietly for some time. But now?

Two directors resigned from the recently appointed football committee (there’s stickability for you then!) and the board have apparently decided to close down the Upper Tier of the Trinity Road stand, five hundred people employed there will, it is said need to lose their jobs …

So, just maybe some of the beetroot and blue-scarved ones’ll give up the ghost and convert to Saddlerism. Frankly I don’t care who comes to the Bescot at the moment as long as they don’t cause trouble, give us some positive vibe and pay some filthy lucre into the war chest.

But, I still owe my brother for the Port Vale ticket he got me so, after quick phone call, set out on Monday to snaffle the five pound ticket. Not expecting a queue: well you don’t do you? And, sure enough there was a bit of a queue – at least ten buyers ahead of me. The guy in front had a bag under his arm as if he had packed for a day waiting. Turned out he has diabetes and that was his bloods kit, insulin et cetera – just in case. We got to chatting; West Brom (that fabulous Paul Merson goal), Follows park ( the memorable low- level gents toilet with no roof (no really!)) and, eventually – how on earth could we possibly get out of , er … going up this season. Both of us, obviously veteran Walsall junkies. Experienced in all kinds of avoidance strategies: losing a cup game, not quite getting relegated for example. Pulling irons out fires; then sinking a beer or two.

Big, frustrating queues on the way home on Tuesday and I’d had hardly a drink all day. So dehydrated, but expectant. Strong coffee at bro’s house, the sun beating into our eyeballs on the way to the game. I’ll probably remember that I need sunglasses and do something about it around about September!

Parked up. Into the Savoy Lounge. Meting up with Cully, Andy, matt and Mike. The aforementioned social media furious one at home ill and suffering. None of us think that’ll prevent him getting the up-dates on Twitter.

 

A pint of cool lager and, body fluids reaching some kind of equilibrium we take our seats. Yessss! The crowd is definitely up for it: loud, proud and, as usual could do with a few more bodies. But don’t doubt the spirit please>

Nor the players. Brave decision by the coaches to put main man (in theyes of many) Tom Bradshaw on the bench and start the team that eventually stopped Southend. And they are forward going. Hiwula looking really fresh and full of running. Lalkovic and Henry still seeming a little disjointed on the left but Demetriou and Forde doing well down the right.

But Swindon are not cowed. Indeed they seem to be finding spaces and getting through to have some, admittedly feeble or ill-directed, shots. Walsall, on the other hand are impatient – in a good way. Getting somewhere near and letting one go! Bomb! Bomb! Boom! Quite different from our usual pedantic don’t shoot until you can pass into the net kind of style. It’s impressive but, sadly no more effective. At half time we are nil – nil. Still not losing –and I am looking for any positives.

Arch rivals Burton are at home to league One leaders Wigan this evening. We are quietly hoping that Wigan do a job on ‘em, wreck their confidence and steal all three points. Yes, all right our destiny is in our own hands, but a little Wigan intervention wouldn’t go amiss would it?

 

Despite the weather forecast of closer-later it is still rather warm. There is talk of telegraph poles, Lawrence of Arabia, families, trying to plan a weekend away – but not knowing the fixtures – only four games left (barring play offs of course) and work.

Second half kicks off. Impetus with us; Swindon breaking skilfully now and then. I am suddenly, instinctively tense: they are breaking through the middle, having a shot. It is deflected away. But only to a running-on midfielder, Michael Doughty, who coolly slots the ball home.

How many times has this happened?

But, then again, how many times have we broken back – and made it all right?

There are substitutions. Demetriou, suffering after a knock, off and Liam Kinsella on. Lalkovic and Forde off: Bradshaw and Kieron Morris on. He’s only been on the pitch a couple of minutes, young Kieron when he picks up the ball, drops a shoulder, runs into the penalty area and swings a good boot through the ball – and we are in it again. But that is as good as it will get. Rumours around are that Burton have also come back from one nil down – another game that will end up as a draw: curses!

Needless to say, there’s a group of us heading up to Bradford on Saturday!

Struggling With A Virus.

Christmas Eve: home.

Where oh where to begin?

With the weather: so unseasonably mild and parts of the country dogged with ruinous amounts of rain? Carlisle and vast areas of the ironically named Lake District flooded? People losing homes, power and valuables: one couple interviewed on BBC radio 4 about to be married and going on honeymoon – to Venice!

Grass hasn’t stopped growing and this is the shortest day of the year. It isn’t so much about a white Christmas: We apparently have our snowfall later in the season usually; but about the warmth and damage caused by the excessive water. Flood defences overwhelmed and questions being asked in the House!

Milady di Bescot’s evening birthday soiree, coincidentally on the same day as Saddler’s game at Fleetwood Town was called off – waterlogged pitch – went well; even if I was still feeling the effects of celebrating the repaired boiler by heating the house to rainforest temperatures – that or talking too much.

Meanwhile in life reflecting art – or vice versa: Tim Peake has taken off from Baikonur, Russia to become the U.K’s. first ever official public funded member of the International Space Station crew. A former military helicopter test pilot, he seems like a genuinely good guy – but, because Russian Soyuz rockets (some beautiful Flash Gordon meets Gerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds- looking creations) he had to learn Russian before he could fly. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to have bi-lingual labels, I wonder, in the rockets ship … but obviously someone more intelligent than me has thought that one through.

 

And the latest Star Wars film is out. I never really got the whole Star Wars scene; finding it all rather more pantomime than science fiction, but this is the latest block-buster and it is doing super business; from local headteachers attending midnight premieres to franchised merchandise hitting the Santa shelves at just the right time. Marketing eh?

Meanwhile, a few days after Dean Smith left us for what he imagines were pastures better, Burton Albion (top of League One after promotion from League Two last year) lose their manager: Jimmy Floyd Haisselbank. He goes to Q.P.R. Some of my friends were saying that Dean Smith went too soon, that if he had waited, bigger clubs would have been calling on him …

Haisselbank does have a better pedigree, however; being Dutch and having Premier League experience with Chelsea. And Nigel Clough is back at Burton.

“All change on the roundabout …”

Speaking of Chelsea … they sacked the “Special One”: Jose Mourinho too. With a wicked smile I suspect that his downfall began when Chelsea came to Walsall in the Cup; of course it didn’t but it is a pleasing thought. Really, however, I am hard put to know exactly went wrong: he has demonstrated a tactical brilliance and psychologically, a resilience and arrogance as well as having won trophies for each of the many teams he has managed. But, it seems he “lost the players”, had a rush of blood to the head publicly castigating Eve Caneira, respected member of the medical staff at Chelsea, who left shortly after his outburst – and the players just weren’t putting their all into their games.

But his presence in the manager market place will unsettle directors and head coaches whose teams are struggling at the moment.

Watch this space …

Meanwhile I struggled – I will pretend manfully, but my brother bless ‘im came and collected me – to the Walsall Chesterfield F.A. Cup replay. Not the most inspiring of games. Chesterfield clearly came to try and contain our wing to wing, short passing game. We were short of players who are becoming key men in our successes. Young Rico Henry out, injured and Andy Taylor, short of game practice, but ever willing, in his place. Doesn’t look even slightly like a professional sportsman Taylor, but he has good overall fitness and no shortage of skill. Bradshaw, still suffering from Antony Gerrard’s agricultural attentions out and Jordan Cook in. He must have something, this Cook chap, but we have yet to see it at Saddlers.

A hundred and twenty minutes played and I, suffering and slightly deranged and delirious, couldn’t remember a decent shot. Well an on target shot that is.

 

So to penalties:

… and we converted each and every one of them. While Spireites Sam Morsy missed one and we get through, skin of the teeth job to be in the Third Round. Away at Dean Smith’s Brentford. Could be a good ‘un.

Equally might not light any fires at all!

By Friday, I am struggling at work, but get through, buoyed by the news that there is a mid-day plus thirty news conference at Bescot to announce (presumably) the new management …

I am liking the sound of a guy named Sean O’Driscoll (former Doncaster, Bournemouth, England under-19s and – most recently – Liverpool assistant manager. Never heard of him actually before this, but the local media (not always best go-to place for opinion I admit) is bigging him up: good contacts, successful with tracking and retaining youth, attacking style, local lad etc.

But I also hope we can find a place for Witney, Ward and Cutler, who have done an outstanding job, not least since Dean Smith parachuted out on us, and must have good relationships with the current players.

The Sunday game is a mid-day kick off. Because Sky TV want a live game on that day. Local derby: Port Vale at home. Not one of my favourite teams, although an old colleague, Terry Mullen, was a keen Vale supporter; and we went to a Walsall game together a couple of seasons ago. He didn’t make the corresponding fixture. I found out later he had, sadly, passed away.

Sunday. Mid-day. Close to Christmas. Game on TV. Not much chance of a big crowd then? Port Vale; so very close geographically, bring a disappointing crowd. And a hard-nosed attitude. By now we know our new head coach (note, not manager) is Sean O’Driscoll. We also believe that the team has been picked by the “three wise men” (Cutler, Witney and Ward. And there is not a recognised striker in the first eleven. Bradshaw still injured and Cook on the bench. We wonder whether Lalkovic or, my favourite, Sawyers will take on the up-front responsibility.

I am wrong. It is Lalkovic who runs and giddily tries and does the crazy-terrier thing. Sawyers, apparently being watched by scouts from Glasgow Celtic, plays a ways back; good touches, but ineffective for long spells as Vale, knowing our patient side to side strategy play a high line.

Which muffles out our skill – and means a fairly dreary first half. Port Vale, to be fair, do get the ball into the net after a couple of minutes (was Etheridge concentrating?) but it is deemed off-side.

There is a young woman who regularly comes and takes a seat near our places. Clearly a relative (girl-friend?) of one of the players. She sits quietly, loyally and all alone. Sometimes using her mobile ‘phone, sometimes just looking around. We are puzzled: which of the players? None of her reactions give anything away. At half time she moves out of the seat, then return later. She seems to have nothing to do with any of the other family members; a lot of whom we now recognise, and this is unusual because the rest of them are fairly close and at least nod in recognition of each other. Christmas must be hard for professional footballers (no excesses and training going on unrelenting) and also on their nearest and dearest. Leaving parties early, not drinking … must put pressure on relationships.

Some minutes in to the second half: Jordan Cook comes on. His gestures seem to mean that both he and Lalkovic will be staying up front. Can this be right? Not something we have seen all season. But he is soon busy, grabbing the attention – one way or another – of the Port Vale defenders. And Milan makes good use of the spaces created. We are fitter, have the energy to press on as the opposition give ground.

Cook is involved in a physical discussion at the edge of the field, by the far post, tangling with a defender. Neither ref nor his assistant seem to notice. He spins away, eyes back to the game. The ball. We are on the attack. The ball bobbles, eventually to him, while the defenders hesitate. He puts it into the net. Celebration. This will put us into second place in the league: three points behind Burton Albion and with a game in hand.

…if we can hold on.

But this is not a team that holds on. We go on the offensive. Forde, Taylor pushing up. It is exciting to see. A rasping shot comes back off the bar, falls to Cook and he buries it!

Two nil! Playing with two men up front is paying off!

 

Chess and Spiders: Port Vale, Home.

Got up this grey Sunday morning, went downstairs, made a cup of tea: fooled myself that I was keeping my brain active playing a repetitive kids game on the i-pad. Match of the Day F.A. Cup on TV – and a huge house spider above the curtain, looking as if he/she owns the place.

Port Vale at home yesterday. Walsall –once again – starting to build up a run going in to the game: Wembley, successes in away games (against some top teams), three goals in twenty something minutes against Rochdale – a local derby in prospect: a chance to make progress towards those teasing play off places.

It’s that time of year again: Early Bird offers for next season’s season tickets, evenings getting lighter … serious excitement and long queues and associated rumours for the Johnstone’s paint Trophy Final.

I am expecting, as I desert my brother to the box office queue, the team to be playing to impress, to be playing for their places on that “hallowed turf”; if not for the fans who have been so faithful and, just perhaps, deserve something special. And against Port Vale would be special: wouldn’t it just!

Walsall crowd a little disappointing in numbers, but not in support. This is a packed-games, expensive time of the season. But, I smile, remembering the Facebook post “Walsall is for life, not just for Wembley”.

 

The highlights of the previous game (now regularly shown on the “new” electronic scoreboard) are backed by the theme music to, I think Gladiator –and the Who’s mighty “Won’t Get Fooled Again”. How well they synch! It could almost be planned.

… and we start like lions! Just as I had expected: rampant.  Sawyers again, dictating things smoothly from mid-field and getting up to support Hiwula. Jordan Cook is fast, Michael Cain too. Adam Chambers is running all over and involved in much. Port vale look leaden and shocked in comparison, responding with some heavy challenges.

The seats immediately around us seem to be taken up by “irregulars”; perhaps the friends and families of players, certainly they are used by football scouts on occasion – though we haven’t been aware of any for a couple of games now – and this game is no exception. Stout people they are, these hearty people: grandmothers, girlfriends and so on. Watching their mates, their loved ones, their families at work. The couple of guys in the seat in front of us manage to keep watching the game for all of, what, fifteen minutes? Then its mobile ‘phones out. Facebook and  …?

… chess? What, really? Chess? Yep. Sure enough, looking over his green-hoodied shoulder I see he is definitely playing chess! Whoever said these tiny machines, linked to GPS and brain numbing soul-less corporations would be the end of civilisation as we know it had never bargained for this. On-line chess.  Daddy or chips? Chess or the Walsall match?

Sawyers, seeking perhaps to lean on a defender and spin around him, falls to the floor inside the penalty box. He looks to the referee: Andy D’Urso who, quite correctly ignores the unspoken appeal.

 

D’Urso has quite a history as a referee and is not a favourite of the Walsall crowd. Even today he is not keeping up with play and a few decisions go against both teams. None so decisive as the penalty-that-should-have-been. Young Jordy Hiwula, playing up front was on a pushed through ball, just enough control on it to be able to beat the Vale keeper when he was pulled down by Ryan Iniss. The players job is to kick on and make the next one count, but after that we seemed to lose heart. Sawyers became distracted by constant niggling from a couple of vale defenders … and instead of becoming more determined to do damage with the ball he started trading fouls. Cook also lost impetus. The game got even worse when Vale scored from a corner. Walsall defenders claiming a foul, but the appeals, just a sign of despair, were never going to come to much.

 

Hiwula is keen; going to become a decent player at some level, but lacking in experience and not bulky enough to play a whole game as target man. Baxendale had been pretty ineffective, his running game easily snuffed out by the closing down tactics of Port Vale … and he’s just too short to win many of the crosses aimed in his general direction. We wonder when he ever scored from a header and, digressing as we are wont to do what is the collective name for headers. A charm of finches we agree, a warp of herring (is it really?). So what is the term for a gathering of rhino?

Ashley Grimes came on in the second half; Downing looking out of sorts and out of ideas at the back and, if this is a team of players playing to get a seat on the coach to Wembley, I am not impressed. Something happened to the team after that goal: we just lost all spark and got to easily pinned back in our own half. Port vale are really not a better team than we are, but its “goals as counts – the ball in the sprout bag!” and today they got one more than we did.

It could be about our lack of a credible strike threat when Bradshaw is out, the lack of real strength in depth or the tactics we try … any road up, every time we lose hurts our chances of getting to the play offs.

I don’t believe I’ve mentioned it here yet, but the major political parties are now seriously on the campaign trail. The general election is months away and the bickering, accusations and finger wagging have started. This week about HSBC and some shady tax-evasion for well-suited customers, some of whom may/may not have become politicians/advisors. Tories (Conservatives) are saying it actually happened when labour was in power. The Labour party are saying it did not become public knowledge until this coalition came to power. Me? I’m thinking: stop blaming each other and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Show me the policy and the will to clamp down on this kind of thing, rather than bitch about what has already happened.

Politics? It’s not going to get any easier!

Oh and when I finish typing, that spider is still up here: hasn’t moved a leg!

Images: match photos from http://www.stokesentinel.co.uk

Gossip: Port Vale Away.

Gossip …

Gossip before the game was that, short of last year’s inspirational, mean and business-like midfielder, Sam Mantom, we had signed Billy Clifford, ex Chelsea youth player. Apparently he’s twenty one and a sharp midfielder … and may be available.

Gossip before the game was we sold over seven hundred advance tickets (£3 cheaper than on the day).

Gossip before the game was that we could be travelling and playing in storm conditions, the edge and aftermath of Hurricane Bertha somewhere over in the Caribbean. Butterfly theory or what?

Bright sun, blue skies and a pleasant back-of-an-Alfa Romeo drive to almost the same parking space we had last season (see https://saddlersfan.wordpress.com/2014/04/06/port-vale-away/ ). The familiar yet still-new feeling of an away match (well, any match played for real I suppose), the journey, the ritual. Good timing, great slide into the space: the side roads around Burslem are so tight for parking.

Big coaches on the official car park, almost disguising the entrance. The insides of the away end have been painted and look brighter. But it’s noisy with all these rampant n-the-road-again Saddlers fans; queueing up to buy pies and alcohol.

There is a minute’s silence as we find three seats – not sure what it’s about, but it is respectfully observed.

Referee’s whistle and we’re off!

Great, confident possession. Vale seem to be lacking ideas and a midfield. We are short, careful passing, getting nowhere, but bossing the play. Mal Benning – was he really once a full back steaming down the wing on a couple f occasions, but his crosses going nowhere useful. Tom Bradshaw playing up-front target man. Romaine Sawyers, looking so casual and talented behind him with James Baxendale and Ashley Grimes alongside. Downing in middle of our defence with James Chambers his partner, Andy Taylor at left back and James O’Connor at right back.

Richard O’Donnell in goals. Behind and to the right of his goal sits a lanky “official ball boy” who spends a lot of time on what appears to be a mobile phone; is he Tweeting?

Over to our right (we are behind the goals) the Port Vale fans start throwing a life sized (some would say) inflatable doll around.

“Somebody paid for that …” my brother remarks.

“Somebody’s probably used it as well …” somebody else comments.

Then after twenty five or so minutes, there’s a slip up, some wing play from  Part Vale leads to a ball slipped inside, which trickles slowly past a couple of our defenders and gets put into the net by an up-till-then ineffective Tom Pope. Our shoulders drop, we can’t seem to string passes together and just manage to hold on until half time.

Ashley Grimes leads a charge when the game restarts: he is fired up and taking on defenders. Unfortunately Romaine Sawyers isn’t; slowing the game up whenever he gets the ball. Maybe we are trying to pass the ball into the Vale net (at our end this half) and it is frustrating. Baxendale goes off and Billy Clifford comes on. He is a little dynamo, very busy and going past people. There is a buzz about the team now. It’s Grimes and Sawyers who combine to get a clever pass into the area for Bradshaw to lift round the gigantic Vale ‘keeper into the net almost on the hour. It seems to trickle towards the net and over the line in such agonising slow motion.  

This time it is Port Vale who have to hang on. A couple of belated (Benning having been treated roughly throughout) yellow cards (one each) Grimes deservedly so for an angry  ankle-crunching late swing of the boot after ball and man had gone past him.

We’re liking the look of Clifford (signed on initially until January) and reasonably happy with the draw and Bradshaw off to a convincing start.

Early days … plenty more gossip to pass under the bridge.

 

Images: Brighton Pier; bbc.co.uk

Tom Bradshaw; saddlers.co.uk

So It Begins: Expectations.

All to play for …

That wonderful, still-summer-hot and wide blue skies time before the kick-offs and the inevitable disappointments begin – hopefully along, this season with the surprises, successes, automatic promotion and a good run in at least one of the cups.

First game away at Port Vale. Never one of my favourite teams, but you usually know what you are going to get when you go there. Famed, if that is the right word as a physically challenging team they are our local “derby” game.

A good one to get out of the way as the first game perhaps?

The friendlies are done – management trying to put a positive spin on the whole inter-season malarkey – and now, roll up yer sleeves and let’s get down to brass tacks business.

No quarter! Get stuck in and mean it!

We need to make a point, early on, to put the ball in the net more often than the opposition do, get maximum points and put fans in the habit while the weather is good. Do that, with the fine, pretty football we used last season when appropriate – and, when the weather turns colder, and days and evenings get sharper and darker we’ll keep the support going.

Looking forward to the trip to Burslem in, hopefully – at worst, warm rain – and the journey back with smiles on our faces and tales to tell.

Meanwhile, some protesters have been taken off a roof top protest a little way down the road. They occupied the rooftop of a factory in Shenstone in the belief that the company is supplying parts to Israel’s armed forces. The ongoing saga of quarrel, stubborn counter-quarrel, retaliation, vendetta and warfare that is dogging the Gaza-Israel communities. I have no idea how to solve the situation; but it is surely self-evident that both sides have to sit down  and talk – away from the bravado of aggravation and escalation being perpetrated – by both sides – at the moment.

Heir-apparent Prince William is to train as an air ambulance pilot, flying for east Anglian Air Ambulances. It always sends a small shiver down my spine when I see the – in our part of the world – red helicopters overhead: hoping that nobody is too badly injured. It is  great shame that government  seem to spend so much money on fripperies as a country but that these life-saving charities depend on public donations. Respect to the Duke of Cambridge for taking on this role (having previously trained as and flown in the R.A.F. Search and Rescue squadron). It is reported in the press that he will be paid a salary but that it will be donated to the charity.

There has been a Football League meeting today, but no announcement – about the Coventry City Debacle. They were playing home games at Northampton last season, following bankruptcies and financial skulduggery by many parties. A shame for the fans, mostly. Hoping they’re not holding their breaths waiting for justice from the Football League.

The pace and shape of weeks is going to change – again. The joys and othernesses of another football season about to descend upon us: the faithful and the fickle. What’s in store? A couple of short days from now, we’ll have the first clues as to how to answer that eternal puzzle: how is the season is going to shape up.

 Would three points and everybody uninjured be too, too much to ask for?

 

Port Vale: Away

Written on 6th April, 2014

I drove to Bescot to get the tickets for the Vale game. Burslem is not one of my favourite places in League One, though I have been there many times: it’s not so far to travel and there is usually fierce, not-quite-derby tension that brings excitement and skill out in both teams.

Driven in by my brother – cheers mate – and picking up Cully and Drew en route. Back lanes drive was a new way to get there for me, passing none of the landmarks and roundabouts I would normally be looking out for … and that’s not so easy from the back of an Alfa Romeo. Great parking spot and, hey there really was an oat-cakes shop (though it was closed) near the ground.

Brisk stroll; the ground looks so small and bodged together, with a patchwork ethos and stands that do not match. The roof of the stand we were in is apparently from Chester Football Club and so low it holds the sound in. The small-ish Walsall choir were buoyant, deafening (great support!) and, frankly discordant.

Grabbed a bite to eat at the café*: two coffees, two ciders a pie (only meat and potato) and a Mars bar. The cider was sticky and overly sweet.

That passion I was expecting (way back in the first paragraph)? No signs of it in the first half. Vale looking dangerous. Walsall looking a little lost and Ngoo in to replace suspended Westcarr didn’t quite work. The kid is talented, confident but doesn’t somehow fit in. Long legs like a young giraffe, very willing. Maybe just not enough match practice yet? Brandy looked tired and short of pace. James Chambers, unusually, was both out-paced and out-thought by the Vale winger, but we were hanging in there when the half time whistle went.

Playing towards us in the second half we seemed to have a better grip. Play was undoubtedly rougher – scuttlebutt going round the ground was that the teams above us (that we needed to lose to keep our remote play-off chances alive) were actually losing. Both teams here could capitalise on that – if they could win.

Some dubious refereeing decisions given both ways. Some harsh tackles: both ways, some diving: both sides … but when our centre half Paul Downing and a Vale player, Tom Pope, got tangled up in the penalty box – penalty.

Scored!

Cue substitutions: Brandy off for Lalkovic, Ngoo off for Bakayoko and Baxendale (largely ineffective) off for Hewitt.

Cue the traditional weekly last throw-down frantic paced everything and the kitchen sink and his wife and gundog melee as we hammer the Vale defence to get an equaliser and – in our eyes a shred of justice. Equaliser? Hell no; lets win the game!

I can never quite understand why we need to go one down before we start to play properly. Indeed there is a suggestion in the car as we drive back that we should hypnotise the team before the game, trancing ‘em into thinking we are one – nil down. Light the blue touch paper, stand back and watch the fireworks.

It’s history now, we don’t manage it. But there was a spirited first performance from Bakyoko, young but not afraid to get in with the big boys and their flying boots.

Elsewhere, the long-running saga of the Hillsborough Disaster continues. During my life there have been a number of football disasters, this being the worst of them. I cannot begin to imagine the torment the families of the ninety six people who died at what should have been a marvellous occasion have been put through. I salute their grit and determination to have genuine justice. It cannot have been easy.

Brighter news is that Birmingham City Ladies will be playing in the UEFA Women’s Champions League semi-final after beating Arsenal. Women’s football is booming at the moment, credit to everyone who has made it happen. Can we get a team at Walsall please?

And more international matches will be played at Bescot. My guess is that it is due to having the national training centre (St George’s Park) at Rangemore, because the games will be shared with Burton Albion. They are part of the UEFA European Under-19 Championship Elite Qualifying matches and will be played in May.

A horse from just down the road in Worcestershire won the Grand National while we were struggling to overcome the Vale and today Oxford hammered Cambridge in the Universities Boat Race.

*Oh yeah, the name of the café?

Would you Adam and Eve it ?