Fireworks, Poppies and The F.A. Cup: Fleetwood at Home

The aftermath of the Russian airliner which disintegrated after taking off from Sharm-al-Shaikh in Egypt rumbles on: the Advice from the British Commonwealth Office is against travelling to the resort and civilian flights have been halted. This leaves a whole number of British tourists stranded there, with rumours about how – and when they will get home. Arrangements are broadcast, then changed. Was it a terrorist bomb? An accident? Mechanical failure? Nobody actually knows – yet! But two hundred and twenty four innocent people were killed instantly!

But, either way, in some insidious fashion, the terrorists are gaining ground. One, tourism in Egypt will take a knock, the country may become more isolated, the extremists will find it easier to influence what is happening there. Two: the whole economics will disappear, leaving Egyptians unable to continue the same standards of life and living.

I believe the British government is doing what is necessary: seeking to protect the lives of British people. It seems, from rumours and the very active media circus that security systems in place, or at least the people manning, them are insufficient, poorly trained or corruptible. Most tourists will be returning with hand luggage only, so the suggestion is that hold baggage was improperly checked – or worse.

In British politics the recently elected Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn has upset many people (including me!) by suggesting the annual Royal British Legion Poppy Appeal celebrates war, and as such, is dishonourable. I find this absolutely shameful. The poppies are not sold to celebrate of glorify war but to offer some financial assistance to the very ordinary people and families who suffer from needing to do extra-ordinary things. It ought to be possible, surely to separate the actual war from the people who take part in it. People who made this nation – indeed, the world – what it is today, gave us our freedoms and responsibilities. There is some question as to whether Corbyn will actually lay a wreath at the Memorial service at the Cenotaph In London on Armistice day (11^th November).

 

That wars are not started by ordinary men is obvious; wars are the product of politicians: Corbyn may be correct in his anti-war stand as a modern politician, but must re-think his stance on the poppy.

Walsall face the First Round F.A. Cup proper today, November 5^th (my brother’s birthday and Guy Fawkes Night too). Doesn’t seem so long ago that new_ Fleetwood manager Steve Pressley was sitting enduring some banter from my brother and I in the HomeServe Stand, having lost his manager’s job at Coventry. Now he’ll be back again, trying to knock us out of the only Cup we are still in.

Fleetwood are simply struggling – and their opening performance tells its own story. Only a few fans have made the trip … and they are very quiet. We have not been good this season at imposing ourselves from the first whistle: but today we do – or Fleetwood are just that poor.

Indeed, during the first sixty minutes or so we control the game. George Evans, who must be one of the best-ever loan signings at Bescot has tucked away his third goal of the stay. We are one nil up and they have little to offer. Their goalkeeper and manager are two of their most animated characters – to little effect until we make some changes.

Lalkovic goes off, so does Etheridge and Tom Bradshaw. On come Forde, McGillivray and Jordan Cook. We miss Bradshaw’s steadying presence up front. When the ball is cleared Tom is usually able to hustle, control, steal or take the ball on. He is constantly putting defenders under pressure. Cook is just not able to do this – or not as well as Bradshaw. This, I guess is why Bradshaw has had his first full wales international l call-up (more of this later).

 

And Fleetwood get some serious possession, set up (and miss) several good chances. We are sitting back in our own half, unable to get away, relieve the pressure. But Fleetwood cannot take advantage of it. And into the three minutes of added time we get a throw in. It is well taken, worked to Forde, who has a short run, cuts inside … and I watch him, with time and space, look up, pick a spot and curl the ball into the Net. Two – nil ad we will be in the draw for the next round. Some guy outside the ground wanted to be playing Wolves at Molineux in the next round. Me? Not too fussed at the moment: I want this team to do well, but am concerned that, with the squad size we need to avoid injuries … and seriously/

Would prefer to get automatic promotion! Or at least be in the play offs again.

Tom Bradshaw has been picked by The Wales manager, Chris Coleman to join the training before the next international games. Gareth bale is not bale to play and there are some other first-names-on-the-list missing, so Super Tom gets the nod. Whether he will play or not is a different matter. But it does mean that our away game, next week at Shrewsbury is postponed.  How fortunate for me: I will be going to Durham for the weekend with the Saddlers Widow and, depending on the rearranged date will not miss this local away game.

Back from the game, I scurry with boxes of dry paper and some wood left over from re-cladding the garden shed to mom’s. For the annual bonfire, beer and food-at-our-hose. Traditional. Our home-made one isn’t as big or as glamorous as Thursday’s Star Inn bonfire (thanks Great Wyrley Parish Council, great show!). It does however contain a couple of pallets that I liberated from the enormous pile! As usual, we all toddle out of our houses and watch the magnificent display of aerial fireworks: fascinating colour combinations!. But ours is  a great chance to get spread-out members of our family together. The night is dry, skies clear and the food welcome.

But, in the country darkness, with people walking about I am sure, once o twice that Stewart Staples, long-time friend (and Walsall fan) is the one making the footsteps.

Sadly this is not so: he died last year, buying fireworks as he always did for our annual celebration.

Miss you, my friend!

This morning, being Remembrance Sunday we stood with refreshingly large  numbers of scouts and local people at the memorial Gates on the A34 in Great Wyrley: poppies were laid and sacrifices remembered.

We Will Remember Them.

“… this Lad on the Roof …” Colchester Away

27th October: home

So, after denying “any knowledge” of the rumour that he had two games to save his job – and a home defeat to Swansea City Tim Sherwood is sacked by Aston Villa. I am not sure whether to be sorry or shrug and say

“Hey-ho, should have done better” … “and, where are you going to get a better one from, Villa?” while whistling Dixie and hoping they don’t look our way – at least while we are putting this little run together.

Meanwhile, my own team don’t seem to know just when to quit.

Take Saturday. Away at Colchester. Two goals up at half time (a re-directed shot from Romaine Sawyers and a deflected Lalkovic power-driver) they are pulled back to two all in the second half. George Evans fires us in front again. Three all, then we go behind. But in extra time O’Connor slips the equaliser in – and, before the final whistle Kieron Morris nearly steals all the points.

Four – all !

 

Keeps us in second place, two points behind Gillingham … and we play them on Saturday. At home (gulp! Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one; but I’ll take it anyway. Until this Colchester game we had shipped only two goals away from home – a key to winning games – or at least not losing them. What happened to that defence in this game? Letting in only two in seven away games … they allez oops! – four in forty five minutes? Will it happen again? That’s what football is all about really. The record that stands – and stands us in good stead – is that we are still unbeaten away from home.

I wasn’t there, a journey too far – and some dollars (no, I mean pounds sterling, but dollars is more poetic!) short.

When all the dust has settled, however, we are still sitting in second place, two points behind Gillingham … and we play them on Saturday. At home (gulp! Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one; but I’ll take it anyway).

The Gillingham home game will feature a guard of honour and a British Legion Poppy Appeal collection. Poppies, being one of the first flowers to grow in the churned up mud and debris of the World War One battlefields, quickly became a symbol (here in the U.K. anyway) of remembrance and the hopes for peace.

I will be donating – and wearing a poppy with pride!

This evening, while I was catching up on a TV programme (The Last Kingdom, adapted from Bernard Cornwell novels) we have been drawn at home in the F.A. Cup against Fleetwood. Games to be played in/around Bonfire Night weekend (my brother’s birthday – and excuse for a big party usually). Might be we have to get the fire built early.

And from the Express and Star football columnist Matt Maher – on the joys, perhaps – of being a Barnsley supporter:

“… the most bizarre story of the weekend, however goes to the Barnsley supporter who fell asleep on the stadium toilets at Oakwell and had to be rescued by the fire brigade.

The man, believed to be in his early 20s, nodded off during half time during the Tykes 1 – 0 defeat to Fleetwood.

Waking, seven hours later, he found himself locked inside the ground.

“Usually it’s a false alarm,” said a spokesman from Barnsley’s fire station. “but we turned up and saw this young lad on the roof trying to get our attention.”

“he had no shoes on and had lost his mobile ‘phone and his hat. He was more bothered about his hat.”

The questions are, of course, many. Either way it quite the scathing commentary on the home side, who have lost five out of their last six.”

Enough said?

Poppies and Chesterfield.

 Began the day attacking the Leylandii hedge at the front of the house. It’s really difficult to imagine that the four trees we’re taking down were scrounged from a garden centre skip. But it seems their time has come – and the trimmings are headed for the family bonfire. The rain stays away and it’s windy but not cold. The drive to Bescot takes me along roads that are edged with autumn leaves swept from the trees by the very strong winds of the week. Golds, ochres, yellows, browns and reds.

There are a lot of fans from Chesterfield. They are having a good run having been promoted from League Two last season and riding the mid-table positions well (tenth at start of play today). They fill a fair section of the away end – and they create some noise!

The Royal British Legion Poppy Appeal was launched last week and the display at the Tower of London is looking amazing: one poppy for every British serviceman killed during the First World War I think. Its memorable and spectacular. Funds from the sale of poppies goes to help wounded soldiers and their families. Collectors were outside the ground today – I salute them.

This home game was also chosen as the “Kick It Out” match for Saddlers. This raises awareness of racial discrimination at football grounds. It should go without saying – of course – and such events should not be necessary – but the world, unfortunately is what it is and people need reminding. Good that football is playing a part in the campaign.

We have some good news: Tom Bradbury, whose endeavour and energy have impressed me, is back from a hamstring injury –and last year’s Player of the Season, Sam Mantom is fit to return.

Bradbury is our only player to look and act like a striker so far this year. He has a turn of speed, a physical presence and a good eye for goal (five gaols to his name at the kick off). Will there be some kind of up-front partnership with Jordan Cook (who should be match fit after a couple of games in the first team?

No! We are playing four at the back (Richard O’Donnell in goals was formerly at Chesterfield), Chambers as holding midfielder , then Sawyers, Cain, Baxendale and Cook behind Bradbury.

Chesterfield are fast out of the blocks. They confidently and quickly press up the pitch. Our defenders deal well with the pressure when exposed. Purkiss is looking smooth at right back, especially with Andy Taylor opposite him on the left. (Programme notes talk about the wonderful partnership between Mick Evans and Frank Gregg back in the day.

O’Donnell needs to be quick to make saves, but we begin to create chances as play see-saws up and down the pitch. Downing makes a few careless mistakes, giving the ball away needlessly. But is covered effectively.  

Purkiss and Taylor raid effectively down the wings, Sawyers is good at close control but must move towards the ball more often: he’s losing the ball when faster players read the game and nip in first… and Chesterfield are good at this. Bradbury covers all of the forward line, keeping all four defenders busy. But, in doing this he inevitably runs into dead ends and we are short of somebody nipping into the hole in the middle. Sawyers? Manset (on the bench)? Cook?

At half time some servicemen veterans are welcomed onto the field as part of the Poppy Appeal launch. A good community thing to do. Well done my team!

We are not down-hearted at half time. Inside for a quick coffee, we talked about the visit to Tallinn, families, work and a possible trip to Notts County next week. Then back out again for a better second half. Baxendale replaced by Forde after fifty eight minutes and it made the difference. He is quick, confident and his runs effective, taking the initiative and defenders out of the game. A quick bout of inter-passing involving him, Cain, sawyers and Bradbury ended with a beautiful ball laid into Bradbury’s feet – and he made no mistake.  Goal – and a well-worked one too. The Walsall crowd were delighted. So was Bradbury, mobbed by players on the goal line he was booked. I am surprised. Why was he booked? He didn’t leave the pitch. Didn’t jump into the crowd.

We wondered whether he had made some sarcastic remark to the referee who had failed to give Bradbury any of the free-kicks when fouled, tripped, pushed or knocked off the ball by defenders.

Sawyers later got a free kick with a super piece of skill; the ball long gone from the back of his heel before a surprised defender took both of his feet away. Sam Mantom comes on. he looks a little off the pace – no surprises there but is influential in keeping things calm. Would have been a shock if, after all the waiting and build up our talismanic midfielder brought us no good.

Chesterfield players seemed to lose a bit of heart, began arguing with one another (two of their forwards did this in the first half when one fluffed a good chance – and seemed to want the other, running off the ball for him, to take the blame). But, never a team to make it easy on the fans some slack defending gives Chesterfield a couple of great chances. They miss.

A couple of people sitting to my right were taking copious notes: one I seem to think is a journalist. He upped and left with ten minutes to go, but was soon back with a steward; he couldn’t find his car keys. They were not anywhere near where he had been sitting.

Then the whistle was going and I was on my happy way to the car. To be met with the almost incredible sporting news that Birmingham City – who sacked manager Lee Clark this week – lost at home to Bournemouth 8 – 0. Eight, count ‘em, nil!

At home I find an amusing Tweet from a Saddlers fan which goes something like

“Saw a Birmingham City fan nail his season ticket to a tree and walk away. Took it: you can never have too many nails!”

The first round of the F.A. Cup is drawn on Monday. All being well I will be in Tallinn, but it’ll be interesting to see who we get.

What a difference a win makes … and I expect Dean Smith is feeling a little more relaxed too… and the clocks “fall” back overnight.

Images: Tower of London: Stoke Sentinel

Sawyers/Bradbury: http://www.fiveyearplanfanzine.co.uk

Match action: Walsall Advertiser

 

 

 

En Route to Brazil.

There’s a part of me that thinks this post ought to be about a couple of “warm-up” friendlies England have had en route to Brazil and the World Cup finals. But, to be totally honest, while I want us to do well, I feel genuinely – sadly – far removed from the players, team and their progress. I am enthusiastic about football, but the connection between me and the England team becomes more tenuous by the year. Disenchanted and becoming more so.

Roy Hodgson has my respect. I think he is an excellent coach. Like his public persona, his quiet determination, his self-deprecatory attitude, the sharpness with which he deals with some of the inane and ill-considered juvenile questions put to him by the likes of Adrian Chiles (ITV).

But the games – as games – were wholesome, but largely uninspiring. A reasonable enough 3- 0 win against Peru at Wembley.  2-2 draw at Wembley against Peru, an unconvincing 2 -2 draw against Ecuador in Miami, fairly swiftly followed by a 0 – 0 draw in a Miami game interrupted by an electrical storm. Good refereeing to take the players off during what appeared to be a Biblical scale thunderstorm: everything’s bigger in the States, right? (I didn’t watch the rest of the game (live on TV here at something approaching midnight.)

 

But a new complexion has been put on our opening game by happenings at the local reading group. First Wednesday of every month we get together at the local (Great Wyrley) library to discuss a chosen book. This time it was Beneath the Blood by Val McDermid (which got a lowly three out of ten marks from me: overly complicated plot, too many obvious red herrings – is that possible? – and writing devoid of detail). But the library is running a world cup themed competition. Choose a book on a sporting theme (I chose one about Bradley Wiggins) and you get a sealed bag with a book featuring one of the nations taking part in the World Cup finals. Me? Wouldn’t you know it; got Italy.

Meanwhile BBC properly extensively covered the commemorations and celebrations of the seventieth anniversary of the D-Day landings with a lengthy report and interviews from the French coast. All very stirring stuff: so important that we remember this occasion, the braveries and sacrifices and the fact that days and destinies were changed from and on that day. The production was  accredit to the BBC. There were markedly different-in-style speeches from Barak Obama and Prince William. The first reminiscent of a Shakespearean actor, delivering well practised words and raising the voice, pausing for effect and engaging the audience in an almost rabble-rousing style (except that the “rabble” were veterans and families and politicians.  Prince William, English, modest and under-stated, quiet and firm, resolved and gentle. He laid a simple Royal British Legion poppy wreath.

Both speeches had dignity and integrity: just opposite sides of the Atlantic coin.

But amongst the world-leader pieces: the Queen visiting a cemetery, President Putin, Angela Merkel being welcomed to the scene were interviews with veterans. It seems that this will be the last of these events for the Normandy Veterans association. It is, sadly, the way of things: they are getting older, fewer and less able to stand up to the demands of travel. This has to be a shame, with no blame attached to the men who actually ran up the beaches, piloted the aircraft, crewed the ships (and all of those behind-the-scenes, behind-the-day wizards). Can we do nothing to keep the obvious spirit burning? There is one example, much vaunted by the media, of a man from a residential  home going A.W.O.L. from the home to attend the ceremonies. Heart-warming in one sense, though certainly not for the staff at the home I imagine. And in their interviews, these men were cogent, coherent, modesty incarnate and young-of-mind. There is such candid, disarming honesty in their recollections, which are not “big-picture” revelations (the fate of the free world, duty and for the good of the nation) but about an infantryman who, in being seasick on the way to the beaches, lost his dentures, that one man had never, in all of his years attending this event met any of his colleagues. The veteran who charmingly began to “chat up” the interviewer (and her rendered unable to interrupt to make the all-important switch back th the studio. But, unusually the accents were very local, not only Midland but Staffordshire and the Black Country.

And the one who mentioned Walsall Football Club. He lives not far from Bescot, he said, where they play now, but this soing back to the old place … Fellows Park. We all stood up in them days. And at half time, I looked around and a bloke behind me pointed at me and says “I know you!”

“Yes, says I and I know you an’ all” he was from the same mess on the ship I was on going to the beaches.”

Ending the interview, his friend said “ I dunno what we did …. We’re like some kind of heroes. I suppose we might have been.”

And it brought a lump to my throat, that modesty.

So, really:

England or Italy in that first game ?

Got to be England eh?

After all, those were warm-up games weren’t they ?

 

Images: Hodgson: thesun.co.uk

Cahill goal celebrations: mirror.co.uk

Normandy veterans (one of many I could have chosen!): independent.co.uk