A tale of Two Pitches: Away games at Scunthorpe and Wigan

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Tuesday,

I get into the car: warm evening, I’m driving back from Tamworth – quick meal and then off to the theatre to see The Lindisfarne (folk rock group not the island) Story. Radio on. BBC WM. Paul Franks is interviewing a comedian. The Comic Copper: Alfie Moore. There’s a story he tells (his show is named after it in fact: The Naked Stun) about how, when he was a bona fide policeman he received a call to “proceed to Such and Such Road in or near Scunthorpe to apprehend a naked man (“in a shower cap and flip flops) who was running along making rude gestures to dog walkers … a fuller description to follow.”

The conversation was amusing, delightful little details and throw away lines and I was hooked, but mostly by the coincidence that here was a Scunthorpe based story … and Walsall played there last night.

Played and won. Rico Henry, nominally a defender but raiding on this occasion inside the Irons penalty area, scoring a goal within the opening thirty minutes and resolute, even dogged defending to protect the win. Scunthorpe languishing somewhere at the foot of the table and the “paper talk about set-piece practices and shooting” may well have been on the nail. Not easy to go to places like Scunthorpe where occasionally near naked runners flick disgraceful signs at innocents out for a walk with their pets and sneak a win: so all credit to the Saddlers.

Dean Smith’s two hundred and fiftieth game as manager. And, during that time we have seen some remarkable changes (in personnel, fortunes and styles of play). This season after a blistering, nose bleed start we are in a positive frame, have a reasonable squad, consistency and … points (currently second in the league).

But – and isn’t there always one of those if you are a Saddlers fan we will be losing Philippine goalie Neil Etheridge and Cyprus defender Jason Demetriou for the home game against top of the table Burton Albion in a couple of weeks’ time.

Before that we have Wigan away on Saturday: that’ll be Will Grigg perhaps and last season’s goalie O’Donnell alongside a very expensive squad under appointed-at-the-end-of-last-season rookie manager Paul Cardwell.

Never mind: the Lindisfarne Story was gently done, thehighs (hadn’t realised at the time this band actually had so many highs!0 and lows of being in a North East of England Folk/folk rock band, told with humour, with generosity and fine renditions of songs like Fog on the Tyne (including theone with Paul “Gazza” Gascoine –“funny how musicians think they can play football and footballers think they can sing” -), Meet Me on the Corner and All Fall Down. A shame for the performers that the crowd was a little thin, but like the troopers they have been and are Ray Laidlaw and Billy Mitchell smiled and reminisced wonderfully. The first band incidentally that Saddlers’ widow went to see was Lindisfarne … and a tape of their songs often accompanied excursions to away grounds in days gone by.

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Sunday, 4^th October, 2015

Seems strange to wake up on a Saturday with no arrangements made to go “to the football” but of course there are other things demanding my attention: the battery in the fire alarm downstairs needs changing, the allotment needs digging and the garden shed needs the re-cladding getting on with. A much bigger job than first appeared – often the way if you live inside this skin.

We were at The Garrick Theatre in Lichfield again last night, this time for a one-man show by Adam Henson: a regular Countryfile presenter on BBC TV. He bumbled innocently about at the beginning asking the audience to remember he was “only a two bit farmer” as he got used to the slide show controls and how to project his voice. The man is enthusiastic and knowledgeable and could talk for England (or Wales, being part Welsh).

So a morning digging, visit my mother, then settle down to break, measure, saw, drill and hammer (blood blisters are so fashionable aren’t they?) in the back garden.

Did I mention we are having some unseasonably warm weather which is perfect for all I am doing today … which includes taking a radio outside to listen in on the football up-dates.

Wigan Athletic: still on a massive parachute payment from their time in the Premiership (two years ago), relegated from the Championship last year: massive stadium and big money. Not expected to stay in this league beyond this season, but for some reason not off to a good start (and start is all this is I remind myself). We are having a marvellous start; superbly entertaining to watch, individual and team efforts, purposeful and fit (so far, so good, but let’s not tempt Providence eh?)

 

As usual we are a low priority for local BBC West Midlands, but the reports coming back are promising (to be fair as soon as “Wigan nil …” comes on I am delighted). Player of the Season Richard O’Donnell who left us for Wigan at the end of last season has not been picked; Jussie Jaskaleinen is given a game instead. Good or bad? Only time will tell. But Walsall are under the cosh from the kick off, that much is clear. But by half time the garage sized shed I am nailing ship-lap timbers to at a rate that would make saints lose patience has not toppled over and we are still holding our own. There is a buzz of excitement after about seventy minutes when one of the Wigan defenders gets a staright red card for fouling Kieron Morris: can we add just enough to steal a win? Will Grigg, who came to fame as a Walsall forward is taken off … but we just cannot make it count. We stay disciplined, don’t give anything away and are second in the table (again) on goal difference by the end of the day. That would have been a big test and a draw at one of the fancied automatic promotion candidate’s ground is a real result.

  

 

Now looking forward to Burton Albion next Saturday. Should be a good crowd; they’re only just down the road and off to a flying start.

Not so the England Rugby team. After watching Doctor Who (to be continued next week) I switched to the game against Australia. Needing to win, England were never in the lead and were humbled by a typically powerful/ untypically modest Australian side. Bad news: we still have all the games to be shown on TV. Something I rarely see the point of, me being a one-eyed Saddlers supporter; generally if my team ain’t in it I ain’t interested.

 

 

 

 

 

Dare to Dream? Chance’d Be A Fine Thing: (Colchester Away)

Colchester?

A simple, unGoogled guess is the way to Stansted airport and a few miles and roundabouts more. My car could find its own way to Stansted these days I believe, but money and time are short. Following Walsall is good, especially since we are doing so much better away from home – at the moment – but there are other things in my life. Work being one. The winter weather being another, and the associated lack of light that early sunset brings.  Something like six, seven hours drive there and back didn’t appeal.

But in a masochistic way going to the gym did. Not exactly a New Year’s resolution, but I do need to spend a little more time and thought on getting regular challenging exercise. So a walk to renew library books, get meat from the butchers, cream of chicken soup … then off to the local Fitness First gym. Wow! It is so completely different at two o’clockish, Saturday afternoon. Almost empty: park where you want, plenty of spaces. And the machines are deserted … a ghost-gym if you will. I can automatically sign myself in now by waving my card over the gizmo on the desk: good job because I cannot see any staff about. My plan was to settle on to some of the aerobic machines facing the strip of TVs over the – quite unnecessary in my opinion – mirror wall at the “front” of the floor. Put myself in for a long session, on bike or treadmill, and watch the football results, highlights/pundits and keep up with the scores. But I was there a little too early. So instead I am watching an animated film (what is the difference between a cartoon and an animated film? I wonder as I pedal at level 9 across the “random” programme) with pigeons and railway trains. That and a Michael J Fox U.S farce that I have seen – and enjoyed. He falls madly in bed with his aunt, and in love with a character played by Helen Slater and it all ends happily ever after, though once it is finished I can never remember how it was resolved.

There is football punditry on only one screen, which is showing a surreal loop (without sound) of manager’s heads (I recognise Mourinho, Alan Pardew, Harry Redknapp and Paul lambert); there should be a link, however tenuous and I am puzzled: what might it be?

I finish my exercises at around about half time, get into the car, turn on the radio. Walsall winning one – nil: an Antony Forde header after good work from Jordan Cook.

I decide to drop in on mom. My brother is there. We talk: trains, terrorism, rights of free speech, and by the end of the game we have won: two nil. Super work from a typically calm Bradshaw; putting the ball inside for Michael Cain to notch the second.

  

Colchester haven’t won at home since October.

In another game two Scunthorpe goalies were stretchered off; both had broken arms; both injured in collisions with Bristol City players. Football is a simple game really, but there are so many possibilities and permutations. Has this ever happened before?

Not so far away at Molineux, there is a sadness at the celebration of the life of Sir jack Hayward: the man who, essentially saved Wolverhampton Wanderers with his generosity and enabled the club not only to survive but re-invent itself. Massive building projects reshaped the ground and, though managers came and went the spirit of the club lives on. I am fiercely loyal to my team, but sometimes in this world of corporate investment and clubs being financed, funded and held together by foreign owners the genuine role of the local businessman supporting his local club and having such a genuine affinity with it deserves recognition. The day did Sir Jack proud by all accounts, so respect to the Wolves (if only for once and for a short time).

Incidentally Hayward was also generous in many other respects: funding the return of S.S. Great Britain from the Falkland’s, sponsoring a library in a local school and England Women’s Cricket team. Amongst so many other creditable deeds. Not everyone who has money uses it selfishly and, though I daresay there will be those who will unkindly suggest Sir Jack could have done more it is certainly true that he did more than many.

For Walsall fans there is now the dilemma:

Success in the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy and a trip to Wembley … or the longer-term glory of a possible paly off place? We are continually consistently inconsistent as Darren Fellows wrote in Monday’s Express and Star:

“Away wins at Preston and Colchester, home defeats to Coventry and Scunthorpe.

Clean sheets on our travels, defensively abject at home …

Just about everything you already knew about this team in four results.”

Nigel Clough, studiedly stubborn and obtusely straight spoken has lead Sheffield United to the promotion zone in League One and a League Cup semi-final. Asked on TV whether he would go for the Wembley Final or a play off game he finally answered (like his father, Brian,  he rarely gives a simple answer) that he would have to pick the play off appearance.

Me, I’m crazy enough to dream and wonder why say either one or the other, let’s do both and a bit more besides.

The long wait and inevitable, slightly patronising hype will be about soon. The second leg game match is – apparently – sold out.

We did brilliantly to win at Deepdale; we have players beginning to get a second wind: let’s get our seats on the roller coaster – and hang on tight. It won’t be easy … but being a Saddler’s fan never has been.

Images: Walsall match: Walsall Advertiser

Molineux; itv.com

Baked Beans and Banks’ Mild: Scunthorpe, Home

But we have just outmatched Preston North End At their ground … and, surely this is the start of a good, long confident run of results that’ll get us to Wembley and into the play-off places. The mood is very good at the ground. I find myself alone in a cheerful crowd in the Bonser Suite. Get a beer, sit by a couple of guys who are talking both to each other and a youngster they have brought to the game. Hmmm, where is my brother? Supposedly on his way with Lawrence. The beer is delicious. I step outside: on the pitch Greg Dyke is presenting our Fair play award for last season. Ten thousand pounds because of the sporting way we played, behaved and the respect we (players and staff) gave to match officials. Well deserved!

Then I am beckoned inside by Cully and we chat amiably with one of the friendly stewards. Out for kick off. We spot my brother and Lawrence (brave lad that Lawrence, well done mate!) and they take some seats in front of us.

Confidence on the pitch matches that of the fans. We are straight into them: have four shots within the first ten minutes: one is a cracker from Forde.

James Chambers’ goal, coming after twenty or so minutes is a classic. There’s good, short inter-passing down the left wing; the ball placed into the box. Nobody is close to Chambers as he swings a foot, connects perfectly (or not) and the ball bulges out the back of the net. But, dammit, it’s the wrong net! It’s an own goal – completely against the run of play. And we are once again in that fight back to get level position. We’ve done it before, so the Saddlers fans are full of encouragement, if somewhat shocked at the unexpected reverse.

Scunthorpe score a second; good work down the opposite wing and a near post shot guided, skilfully, into the net.

Second half and we get one back. Cain misses a sitter, but later nets a second chance after a splendid, intelligent  lay off from Bradshaw.

But Scunthorpe will get another two, one from a penalty. They are unlucky, and confused by another penalty they were certain they had that turned into a free kick for us because the assistant referee had spotted their striker in an offside position … presumably before the offence was committed.

There is a radio voice in the car that says something like

“… if fans of Walsall thought that that trip to Wembley was in the bag after the win at Preston, they will need to think again. Fans of Preston should take note…”

And, though I hate to agree the comment is absolutely correct. But I have got my ticket to the game and am still looking forward  to it. It will be dramatic in one way or another.

International news spotlight is on the follow up attacks in France in which more innocent people are terrorised –and some killed. And Paris is the venue for a demonstration of world (well, most of it) solidarity in support of the right to free speech. World leaders attend a march there and four million people across the world honour the victims of the terrorist raids.

 

“An attack meant to bring France to it’s knees brought the world to its feet, ”  is the sound bite phrase that seems to sum up the mood. But what is the aim of the attacks? Maybe it is to convince non-Islam people that Muslims are a threat, to divide cultures and set us against one another. It is my fervent hope that we can see past this and avoid knee-jerk reactions. It must be possible to live together: our similarities are greater than our differences aren’t they?

Tommy Caldwell, 36, and Kevin Jorgeson, 30, could become the first to “free climb” the Dawn Wall. They are propelling themselves up this 3,000-foot section of Yosemite’s El Capitan using only fingers and toes wedged into the granite’s tiniest cracks and indentations. They use ropes only to catch themselves when they fall — which they do often — and not to aid in their ascent.

You look up and you see the possibility of doing something almost insurmountable with optimism, creativity, perseverance, friendship.- Tim Fulkerson, 51, of Portola Valley, Calif., watching the El Capitan free climbers

Of the 100 routes up El Capitan, only 13 have been free climbed, and the Dawn Wall is far harder than the others. In the rock-climbing world, the feat is monumental. But even to those who might not have followed the sport, the quest of two climbers about to finish what was thought impossible resonates.

“You contrast it with the killings in Paris, with the darkness in the world,” said Tim Fulkerson, 51, of Portola Valley, Calif., watching Sunday in the meadow at the foot of El Capitan with his 13-year-old rock-climber son Ross. “You look up and you see the possibility of doing something almost insurmountable with optimism, creativity, perseverance, friendship. You see two guys holding on with bleeding fingers.”

The Shirt and The Iron (Scunthorpe Away)

Last Wednesday of the month: poetry group at Great Wyrley Library. Last month we chose “sport” as the topic for this meeting. Do you know how difficult it is to find a reasonable poem about sport? (Seriously folks any suggestions welcome in the response box below. Would love to you’re your ideas.)

Someone else came up with “the Shirt” by Carole Ann Duffy  (current English poet laureate). I have heard this independent lady reading her poetry and, while it was being shared in the rather small confines of our library I could imagine bot her voice and face as she read it out. Bit of a cliché, but went to this Walsall supporter’s heart right away; the themes of high salary and some self-pitying celebrity player trying to make excuses for poor performances. The “anybody but me” syndrome” again.

We are playing Scunthorpe United today. Away. I’m going. Bright sunshine, high skies after some rainclouds earlier.

Cully’s driving. Navigating part-by-sat-nav part by experience. The sat nav (Tom-Tom I believe) sits in pride of place in the centre of the dashboard. The arrow stays still, the graphics move underneath it. “A bit like flying, instead of driving; don’t like it, “ he says.

Satisfyingly the machine gets it wrong from the off and I take out an unnecessary dog leg, smiling smugly (well inside anyway).

The journey is comfortable, enjoyable and full of conversation on initially  familiar roads and then motorways (with some almost inevitable summer roadworks limiting us to 50 m.p.h..

We see the high single legged floodlight pylons of Glanford Park while we are still on the approach. The ground is now at the back of an out-of-town shopping park with all the usual suspects including a McDonalds, a Ben and Jerry’s (playing music from the 1950s) and a franchise gastro-pub. It’s friendly in there. We order a meal and drinks, sit and continue the conversations. Then well fed, stroll to the ground.

Going through the turnstiles we are not given a ticket which I find interesting. It takes out the costs of printing and is eminently sensible in that respect of course … but is it legal?

 

The ground feels homely. It’s compact, built to the same spec all round and looks as if it was built to a plan that was stuck-to. No out-of-character additions. There’s a purpose built gallery in the roof of the left hand stand for cameras and media, there are flags flying from poles at the opposite end of the ground. That stand (we are behind a goal line) is standing-only. That’s also interesting, given the discussions going on to return parts of grounds to standing areas again (they were changed to all seater stadia by law following recommendations in the Taylor report after the Hillsborough disaster) .

We look dazed from the kick-off. The Iron playing fast, zippy football, passes accurate, either in front of the runner or into space which is soon taken up by an attacking player. We are not able to keep up, it seems. Our new look team. Without Kinsella who has been impressive, but fair enough, may need a break; without Grimes and Sawyers and James Chambers back into the middle of defence. Forde is on and Manset gets a debut. (seems he was playing the “long game” after his trial game against Leicester, going to some Turkish club and after a better deal (no blame attached there: football is a cruel kind of life and players need to make money as and when …). No deal was offered, so he came back to Walsall. James Chambers lasts all of ten minutes and Dean Holden comes on to replace him. It doesn’t get better. Scunthorpe (why are they nicknamed The Iron?) are like a tide washing towards our goal, wave after wave. Fortunately they don’t look like scoring. They too are on a winless run and may just be a little over anxious.

The half time entertainment is amusing: fans spin around to make themselves dizzy and are then to take a penalty against the home mascot (“Scunny Bunny”). Except they all fall over before they have finished spinning. The announcer on the pitch is enjoying himself anyway.

Of course I recognise some of the travelling fans now; we are some kind of pilgrims after all, trying to keep a kind of faith. Against all odds sometimes!

Second half is little different, except Scunthorpe are better motivated, more switched on. they haven’t won yet and sense things might be about to change. A first half dribble raid by Adelakum which ended in a scuffed shot is repeated. But this time the ball is in the net. A few moments later we concede a free kick. MacSheffrey’s long distance shot beats O’Donnell and they are two nil up.

Cue the charge. We establish some kind of order. Press forwards, more in hope at this stage but things begin to come together. Then, Tom Bradshaw, who must be difficult to play against, is through after willing running. It seems to be in stop-motion. I see him check the position of the keeper (Olejnic) and the ball dinks off his head and curls – towards – the net – over – the – line.

Goal! Well-deserved because the man has been chasing everything since kick off, big hearted and energetic. Good eye for the goal. Manset has shown touches of skill, but been a little off the pace. But he is big. He is strong and the defenders knew he was there. I would like to see him in the team again on Saturday (home against Colchester), just a little more bedded in.

It’s not enough. Baxendale making a big, bold challenge to keep the ball in provokes a bit of passion from Scunthorpe’s Bishop, who has niggled all game (but at least has some fire and passion about the game). The referee who has been poor all game, not stamping his authority, gives a goal kick when, in fact, the ball didn’t go out at all.

So, Scunthorpe’s winless run ends. Does ours continue or did it just get worse than that?