Pride? Restored? Shrewsbury at Home.

Still smarting from the thrashing we had up at Bradford I am driving home on Tuesday evening. Unlike the previous week when I was hungry and frustrated by traffic and – let’s face it – just plain late and generally behind a tight schedule …

Where was I?

Oh yes, unlike last week, this time I am foddered, not dehydrated – as I worked out how the damned coffee machine worked – and very early. Just setting out ten minutes earlier and the traffic is slim. All the way home. Along the A5. The road works. The Roman road. The one that leads from London to Holyhead. The traditional route, before the upstart M54 interrupted, from my house to Shrewsbury – or, as you will, Shrewsbury to Walsall (give or take a mile or two).

Shrewsbury, tonight’s visitors. Shrewsbury: the next banana skin? Shrewsbury, still struggling against relegation – and likely to be fired up and scrapping for every morsel on that pitch tonight!

And looming on the horizon, like a plague of Old testament proportion there is, most definitely a storm. In my poet’s mind it is coming from Shrewsbury: a storm that will test our mettle and go a long way to sorting stuff out. For example; do we have the necessary cojones to get over the Bradford fiasco? Will we still be in with any chance of automatic promotion when the dust settles?

But it won’t be actual dust. It will be hail!

I eat, saddle up mentally and drive beneath glowering skies – no precipitation yet – to my usual parking nest. My parking is clumsy – I am, let’s face it, more famous for abandoning cars than parking them. One wheel is on the kerb, three not. But I am not blocking anyone’s access – and I should be in good shape to make a speedy get away.

From here it is a fifteen minute walk to the entrance of the savoy Lounge (if that). I am just three minutes into that walk when the very heavens open. Lightning crackles and thunder rolls long and hard across the skies. There is a plane on final approach to Birmingham International. Bet they got a good view of that one!

But most of the downfall is not simple rain. It is hail – coming down in bullets! That over-tall privet hedge provides some shelter, but I skip and cringe across the car park – a good few visitors from Shrewsbury, all sheltering in the lee of the stadium (what there is of it), some smoking.

All of us nervous. A lot to play for this evening!

I catch up with the day’s news on the big screen in the Lounge. Read that the Hillsborough Inquiry jury has come up with a landslide number of verdicts around the main one of “unlawful killing.” Damning!

 

Then I notice Cully, Andy and Jack. I am still thinking of the Hillsborough disaster, the stories in the media at the time, the wonderful long, long, proud fight put up by the families against massive institutions (press, police and general public perceptions in the days when to be a football fan was to some degree to be an enemy of society).

We do discuss the findings; in no doubt that there were mistakes made, but unsure where this will lead. That ordinary coppers were as sickened as we were, then and now and tried to help but were held back obeying orders. Mostly we are disgusted that this didn’t all come out in the police investigations carried by our very own West Midlands Police Force. That this was, almost certainly covered up*.

But talk soon turns, as it must to this game; to the Bank Holiday Monday mid day kick off, by which time Burton Albion will have played against Gillingham – and we’ll have a better idea of what we need to get done. And our final scheduled game of the season at Port Vale (I have my ticket already!) This is also a mid-day ish kick off.

Then we creep out to take our seats. There is still hail on the pitch, filling up little depressions in the playing surface – and cold!

Kick off and we escape a couple of times; poor back passes. And we go on the attack. This is a side of attacking players, but still we spend an awful lot of time in our own half. Sawyers is back on form. He is out on the left wing, picks out Kieron Morris running through the middle, a couple of strides and he pulls the trigger on a shot across the keeper. Goal!

Relief!

We need a few more, so set about it, but Shrewsbury manager makes a tactical substitution that closes up the defence.

But not enough to stop a long run from Rico Henry going on and on and on. Past defender after defender. Eventually he tries a shot which is deflected off one defender, then comes back off another and beats the Swiss goalie who flaps at it.

Second half kicks off and Shrewsbury with absolutely nothing to lose but face step up and drive us back. Just one point would keep them in this league; they just need to get one goal back to be in it again.

Inevitably (this is Bescot after all and we are definitely not Bradford!) they get the goal.

But final result is a two one win. Enough to get the points. To prove the point that we are psychologically strong enough. Our problem is not of spirit, but simply the inability to make the most of our fluid play. In short, dammit we cannot score gaols. Yet we are in a great position and there is till a chance!

Bring on the Cod Army!

 

• What follows is a reasonable summary taken from Wikipedia. Needless to say there are so many, many more harrowing details; including attempted demonization of loyal football supporters and the anguish of loved ones. My respect goes to all of the people involved, not all of them seeking justice survived to see today’s momentous rulings.

The Hillsborough disaster was a human crush that caused the deaths of 96 people and injured 766 others at a football match between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest at Hillsborough Stadium, Sheffield, England, on 15 April 1989. The match was the 1988–89 FA Cup semi-final, with Hillsborough, home ground of Sheffield Wednesday, selected as a neutral venue. The crush occurred in pens in the Leppings Lane stand, allocated to Liverpool fans. Steel fencing between the spectators and the playing field prevented victims from escaping the overcrowded western stand. At the time, such fencing was commonly used in English football stadiums to prevent friendly and hostile pitch invasions. The interim report in the 1989–90 official inquiry into the disaster by Lord Taylor concluded that “the main reason for the disaster was the failure of police control.”^[1] In 2016, a new inquiry returned a verdict that the victims were unlawfully killed as a result of an inadequate response by emergency services.^[2]

Entry to the Leppings Lane stand was possible only via one of seven turnstiles, a restriction that led to dangerous overcrowding outside the ground before kick-off. In an attempt to ease pressure outside the ground, Police Chief Superintendent David Duckenfield, the senior police officer responsible for policing the match, ordered an exit gate to be opened. The opened exit gate led to a tunnel marked “Standing”, which led directly to the two already overcrowded enclosures. In previous years the tunnel had been closed off by police when the two central pens were full; however, on this occasion the tunnel was unmanned. The findings of the final report resulted in the elimination of standing terraces at all major football stadiums in England, Wales and Scotland. It remains the worst stadium-related disaster in the history of English sport, and one of the world’s worst football disasters.

Colds and the Cod Army (Fleetwood Away)

Three days after the away match at Fleetwood – a game I would have loved to have gone to by the way – I am beginning to feel human, or as near to it as is possible for a dyed-in-the-wool Saddlers fan.

But Tuesday (remember I wasn’t feeling too good even then) and the shockingly poor show at Shrewsbury made me stop and think. Seriously.  Yes, OK it would have been a new ground to visit (Fleetwood newly promoted to League One at the end of last season and indeed only got League status the season before). But the dreaded ‘lurgy I’m carrying has robbed me of sleep and drained me of energy. I’m constantly coughing – so much so that I don’t even notice I’m doing it any more … and there was the cheese and wine thingy that had to be attended: me being one of the organisers and all. And, did I mention the shocking display against Shrewsbury?

Being something of a man of course I kept thinking I’ll be OK. Just one more night’s sleep – a proper one, like and I’ll be fine. But nagging away in the back of whatever grey matter I might possess was the fact that I needed – for every good reason under the sun – to get to a funeral on Monday afternoon. Stewart Staples. Long time friend. Long time Walsall fan. Long time good guy.

So, when on Saturday morning I wasn’t up and about leaping impatiently I decided (finally!) to get some medical advice. The Lem-Sips had failed, the Strepsils hadn’t touched it, new politically correct Benylin (non-drowsy) failed  – and I even heard myself telling the on-duty pharmacist I would not be trying the (old-fashioned “do not operate machines after taking this as you may be affected by drowsiness”) Benylin.

So I rang 111. Busy … “to use  ring back please press 5 …”

Which I did. One hour later and no response. I tried again. and again. then I listened on after I had pressed the numeral 5 to hear  a message “this service does not use ringback …”

Eventually I got through. Answered some interesting but largely irrelevant questions: a flow chart I imagine … if the patient answers yes then ask …

I waited for the service to ring me back with a considered opinion.

They did. I should attend my doctor’s out of hours surgery based at Walsall Manor Hospital.

Parking was free. Waiting was fairly endless. Triaged after an hour and a half, sitting with various other patients watching mind-numbing TV showing the qualifying routines of the final Formula One race of the season. Lewis Hamilton, driving a Mercedes, would have the championship wrapped up. But in this last race – for some reason which I have no doubt is to do with money, this last race has double points – and he might not win it after all. I am no fan of Formula One. It is not a race in the way that I understand racing to be. Rather a succession of queues and overtaking while in the pits – or penalty times added on to finishing times.

 

 

Anyway, the wait gave me chance to read on the book for Reading Group: And Then We Came to the End (Joshua Ferris). And people watch. Unfairly – for me – a lot of people waiting to be seen were being diverted from the Accident and Emergency department. Including one guy in a wheelchair. The ambulance drivers checked him in. I know they did. I watched them do it. Then left him. Forty five minutes later the receptionist noticed he had a canula in his hand and gave him some kind of mild third degree. Fair enough, he had turned around to watch the rugby game that followed the F1 revealing his hand perhaps for the first time. Half an hour after that when it was finally his turn to be seen he was asked if he could “walk through”, which he couldn’t and told that, in that case he could not be admitted.  I lost track of the time, lost track of the plot and finally got told that I had a viral infection. That it would clear itself up. That I could help only by taking painkillers.

The wait had been instructive as it was frustrating. I had a chance to observe the very worst of the NHS. Operating incredibly inefficiently while trying to do the best for everyone. It is not working!

But, by the time I reached home the game was at half time, the radio announced. And Walsall one goal up! Romaine Sawyers! Walsall dominating the play! This is the topsy-turvy world of being a Walsall supporter: losing against lower league opposition and performing dismally one day – and within he week threatening to end a nine month home unbeaten run of a very successful team like Fleetwood. Fleetwood is in Lancashire and they are known as the Fishermen (their fans the Cod Army apparently). Their home ground is Highbury (the same name as Arsenal’s former ground). I kept an ear open with the radio blasting away, but when the regular interview with Dean Smith came on I drifted off to sleep (sorry Dean). But that’s a good win. When I later watch the goal on You-Tube (courtesy of Sky Sports) – the highlights are about ninety seconds – we do look good. The goal comes from good forward play, Cook in the middle holding up the ball which runs loose for Sawyers to knock it into the net. Actually it looks as if he doesn’t hit it cleanly – but, hey I’ll take any goal that gets us points and position.

Next week we are away at Coventry City. Will I be recovered by then? I certainly hope so; this has been dogging me for long enough thank you.

Also worthy of note: England ladies Football team made their Wembley debut, losing to Germany. Shameful that they haven’t played at Wembley before!

[H1]

F.A. Cup replay: Shrewsbury Away.

There’s nothing like a road trip to a game to lift your spirits. With friends. To a football game when your team is getting stronger by the week. And you feel you are going to win the match. That you deserve to win the match; partly because the team you are playing is from a lower division ( and if you are a Walsall fan there are not many of those) … and you can feel the glory of the next round of the F.A. Cup beckoning.

So, dark at around five thirty. The lift arrives. Three of us in the car … and each of us has been under the weather. This could be just the pick-me-up we all need.

We have to dodge the traffic jams at Churchbridge where work is being done on the junctions imposed by the still-less-than-successful M6 toll road on the already busy A5 and A34. It’s rush-hour traffic and we slide onto the M54 – bound for Shrewsbury. Between us we know the way, so its no problem when the Sat-Nav goes on the blink.

Past the JLR factory and the i-54 business park, through new roadworks, remembering that we do not need to go all the way through the city centre this time. We park up good and early: pub car park, costing a fiver. Long steady walk to Greenhaus Meadow where, mysteriously there is car parking but not for away fans –how ridiculous!

The floodlights are low and I keep getting after images on my retina. Disorienting. England are playing a friendly game against Scotland* up at Celtic Park. Once these games, part of the “Home Championships” at the end of each season were passionate blood and thunder matches. Perhaps there will some of that spirit in the game tonight. Apropos to that I was amazed by how poor the playing surface was at Wembley for the qualifier earlier. Apparently that was because there was American Football played there the week before. I have no problem with the use of the stadium for that – it is a kind of sport after all – but surely more could have been done to get a better surface? For our national team? In our national game?

That England game is live on TV, but there are still a lot of – noisy – Walsall fans at the game.

There is a good exchange of typically insulting songs and banter between the fans. But the football is dismal. We are, frankly, poor. Manset is caught off-side again and again.  Shrewsbury unable to put much quality together. Until the second half.

They score shortly after the second half kick-off.  A good goal that starts with a sloppily, given away pass from Walsall. We try and “up” our game. Shrewsbury respond with more effort and a degree of gamesmanship that eventually has four players booked and one, Adam Chambers sent off. It seemed a reasonable challenge, though it was full-blooded. Hardly a sending off.

This will have an impact on the run of up and coming games: Adam is a key player in our line up and stands to be banned for the next three games.

There’s nothing like a road trip to a decent football game, did I say?

Well … this was certainly nothing like a road trip to a decent game.

* Happily England won 3 – 1

Some Journeys Are Sad Ones

So the visit to Estonia gets closer. Put into perspective by the F.A. Cup draw that has us at home to League Two Shrewsbury on the Saturday. (Shrewsbury who narrowly lost to Chelsea in the League Cup competition and are making a name for themselves under new manager Micky Mellon … and are also the club we got new crowd=pleaser Tom Bradshaw from during the close season). And there was me hoping for an away tie (against some easy-to-beat (the way we are playing at the moment it’s not easy to name such a team) lowly opposition with aground a long way from home. Which would mean I couldn’t possibly get there, we’d get through to the next round and I would be able to see an amazing Cup run (and not feel even vaguely guilty about the maybe-frivolous trip to Tallinn)

Because of the trip we had arranged our annual bonfire night a week earlier (also because other family members were available too on the Sunday) and I have spent some time this week preparing the site and the fuel (hedge cuttings and collected windfall logs) as well as paper and cardboard to get it lit.

Big world news is that Virgin Galactic’’s bid to get space tourism “off the ground” met a setback when the latest test flight ended in disaster with a test pilot 39-year-old Michael Alsbury, killed and the other pilot, Peter Siebold, 43, injured after ejecting clear. There are reports, almost inevitability of technical issues. But this is the sometimes-grim reality of pushing the frontiers of knowledge. It comes at a price. But, being inquisitive as a species we move forwards. No doubt this “space tourism” will initially benefit the rich. But beyond that, as today’s cutting edge becomes mainstream – who knows?

 

India, meanwhile is being criticized for its own space program when a large portion of the population cannot attain simple basic hygiene standards.

And more locally an explosion in a fireworks factory/outlet on the outskirts of Stafford left two (unidentified in early reports) people dead.

On Friday evening I had a ‘phone call from Andy. He would pick me up, we’d trek over to Notts County in some style, have a meal and a beer and see the game.

He arrived, as promised at around midday: a lovely warm day, good to travel along reasonably familiar roads. A reminder of the trip last year, when we were on a great run and came away five one winners. Quite different this time round. County having gone eleven games without losing and us? Hmmm?

But, somewhere on the way my ‘phone went. It was embedded in an autumn-coat pocket in the back of the car. I considered not answering. But, honestly: for people to ring me usually means an emergency. So I fished around, and answered.

The next few moments were shocking!

A long-time friend, family man, going to buy fireworks had been identified as one of those killed in the Stafford fire. Not only a friend, but a long-time Saddlers supporter who has shared, over the years in the journeys, ups and downs of football. And our annual bonfires! And the memories skittled by. Andy too was upset.

I may write more about this in another post. There is so much more to tell; suffice it for now to say that changed the mood; although I guess I actually didn’t take it in properly.

We found the same pub/restaurant we parked in last year. The Riverside right on the River Trent, close to both Notts County and Nottingham Forest grounds. Still decked out with Hallowe’en fripperies. We discussed horror movies (classic and modern) and the traditions of Hallowe’en for a few minutes, then ordered fish and chips. Honestly? Over-priced and the fish was too wet to taste. But we were able to use the car park and it was food. And the beer was tasty (Indian Pale Ale for me.)

Getting darker by the time we set out to walk around three sides of the ground and, despite a small panic I did have enough to pay to get in.

Very sophisticated ticket. Seat number and all, but once past the noisy, beer drinking Walsall fans around the bar the stewards said predictably perhaps:

“Sit where you like, the numbers mean nothing.”

A good following from Walsall, but a large section of the ground was roped off and it seemed like a small home crowd. We got seats with a good view … and chatted with the steward. Certainly the friendliest stewards I have come across this season so far. About club histories, about Nottingham Forest “taking away a generation of fans”, about the game last season.

Walsall went off fast! Pressing forwards. Tom Bradshaw on his own up front. Antony Forde keeping his place and Romaine Sawyers in midfield. Some fine Saddlers attacking moves seemed to surprise and shake County, though they had their own raids. But our passing play looked smoother and more confident.

At the back Ben Purkiss seems to be fit and match fit again. he made some good interceptions, covering tackles and got forward effectively too. Andy Taylor steady as always opposite him on the left. O’Donnell also made some good saves early on. This built his confidence as the game went on. Some fine refereeing when tackles became ragged. The referee calling offenders and captains together for a word. It worked.

We took the lead deservedly. Jordan Cook and Sawyers combined to end a move with Cook having a deflected shot hit the inside of the County post and dribble over the goal line.

County then moved up a gear. Long runs from mid-field, mostly unchallenged. Long shots. But a slip up had a long angled cross finding the striker who headed a good goal past O’Donnell.

Disappointing but perhaps inevitable. We were giving up too much ground and our forward moves slowed down. Often with Sawyers, undoubtedly a talented player taking too long on the ball or trying for the complicated pass, back-heel or lay off. Sometimes the simple thing is the right thing.

By half time it was getting cold. There was a spirited kids game going on below us at half time, some very accomplished moves and five goals!

Second half kicked off and the Walsall team were revitalised. Taking control of the game as they had done at the start of the first half.

With so much pressure and surviving a few counter attacks thanks to superb agility from Richard O’Donnell we were awarded a free kick when a central defender reached up and pulled the ball down. Walsall appealed for a penalty and the referee, again doing the correct thing, consulted with the assistant ref – and gave the penalty.

Tom Bradshaw struck it brilliantly and it went, like a crossbow bolt into the back of the net. His celebrations and the response of the travelling fans was marvellous. Oh and no booking for celebrating the goal so joyously.

 

Manset came on with a little time remaining but had no chance to show his real skills: tripping when chasing a ball, recovering well, but fluffing the pass when another goal looked likely.

On the final whistle, shoulders down he sloped off towards the tunnel while the rest of the team came over to show their appreciation for our support. Wisely somebody sent Manset over. It was a wonderful moment. No doubt the support helps the team out – these moments after games show they understand that.

In the dark skies on the quiet journey home fireworks were flashing and waking up sadness.

Shrewsbury Home.

Thursday; penultimate day in this trip to Upper Austria. Great fun! Coffee and cake at so many houses. (and such fine cake!) A beer, schnapps, hospitality. I am caked out and eat a marvellously friendly evening meal with friends old and new. Relaxed. More cake. Rum.

Crash into a now familiar bed, setting the alarm on my mobile phone. Last day tomorrow. Get some sleep. I am asleep, if it’s possible, before my head hits the pillows.

I am awoken by the beeping. My brain is awake, but my thoughts are clear, rebelliously so :”It cannot possibly be six a.m.!”

My fingers, paying attention to neither have switched off the alarm. Automatically. My eyes are informing my brain that it is still dark, cannot be six a.m.

I am warm, the duvet is my new best friend. I conclude that the alarm is broken. Decide to let my body clock wake me up … it hasn’t failed me yet: I am usually awake before the alarm anyway. I settle down, begin to doze …

BEE-eep Bee – Eep!

WHAT!? I’ve switched you off once! I spring to the ‘phone, check the alarm really is off, switch it on and off again – to be sure (why do we do that?), then try again. But, too late my mind has taken over. I have had a couple of hours of sleep and I am starting to work out what I will need for tomorrow. The bloody machine beeps again…

… My mind is engaged and I realise that it’s not the alarm, it’s a text signal. I am getting texts! At nearly two in the morning (Austrian time). An emergency?

I open the texts. My brother … some garbage (sorry bro, really) about meeting “fri afternoon”. What?

He knows I am in Austria. Doesn’t he ?

I reply, my fingers punching the tiny keys:

“I am asleep in Austria. Get the Shrewsbury tickets and let me sleep!”

But I am not asleep. I spend the next forty five minutes or so planning the day tomorrow, writing lists and instructions. Then getting up and editing them. I am Mr Control Freak sometimes.

Then I fall asleep again. Properly … and at the proper time the alarm brings me back.

Later I am sitting ,feeling very tired in the airport. Two black insignia less helicopters, definitely military – hover around, parallel to the ground. Like one is keeping guard over the other. Waspish movements, then one by one they settle on the tarmac. Russian invasion? I am thinking comically.

But the chunky guys who get out have U.S shoulder flashes and thick soled boots. Ray ban shades. Black Hawks.

 

Other passengers take surreptitious photos. I think about it, but my body won’t listen any more, it just wants to rest.

My brother has the Shrewsbury tickets. He picks me up. We head to the game. Don’t look at the seat numbers … I am heading for my season ticket seat. We can move if –if – it’s overcrowded.

Last season Shrewsbury brought a lot of fans. West Midland Police used a mobile fence to keep supporters apart after the game. Big, metal contraption. I had to tell them I needed to get to Shrewsbury in order to get through it.

This Saturday, two coaches maybe. We went there earlier in the season; good crisp game after an inadvertent guided tour, and won, reasonably easily (1-0).

Before the kick-off I am pleasantly surprised to see the young mascots of the teams kicking the ball to each other. So friendly and a welcome sight.

Kick off. I do not mean to be mean, but Shrewsbury do not look strong. We are passing all around them very confidently. Make no mistake we are good at passing – we just seem to find it difficult to pass the ball into the net often enough.

Then we do!

Craig Westcarr, who scored our two goals against Bradford had more than enough time, space and downright composure to trap the ball, feint a pass to an overlapping player, pivot and drive the ball into the net (OK, slight deflection) but it feels like the start of a big score. Five minutes gone.

Should know better, shouldn’t I?

Mainly doldrums-stuff for the rest of the first half. But we’re winning aren’t we, keeping possession, keeping, pretty please, a clean sheet and OK we’ve seen another Westcarr shot, a Sawyers header and a Taylor free-kick go close.

The Shrewsbury fans are not happy with the ref, though this can be sublimation and really they are not happy with their team. Rather dangerously the come out with the traditional

“You’re not fit to referee” song.

He tries hard to get things going in the second half: sending a Shrews player off for leaving his boot in when James Chambers tackled him. Not exactly raising his popularity with the away fans then.

A game of football between three kids: aged I would guess between four and seven catches my attention. In the home fans end behind the goal. Played with a piece of screwed up paper. The big one keeps getting the hump and picking the “ball” up … the younger players are better than he is and he doesn’t like it.

But Craig Westcarr is fouled. Seventy minutes or so gone. He goes down. Playing the “old soldier” and getting attention*. One of The Shrewsbury players says something that he doesn’t like. There’s a miracle recovery! He springs to his feet and he’s forehead to nose in an instant. None of us have ever seen him move so fast!

Ref has no option: straight red card!

Our top scorer banned for the next three games. Brilliant move “Westie”.

Ten v. ten and some meatier football until the whistle. We’ve won. We kept a clean sheet, but, driving home, discussing Mother’s day (Tomorrow) it feels as if we only drew.

Port vale away next week and there is still a chance my season ticket will get me into Championship matches next season.

A very slim chance I will grant you that.

• Apparently, I find out later the unpunished foul caused an injury that required seven stitches.