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!

Riding the Luck: Colchester at Home

20th March: at home.

This is the week of the Cheltenham Festival: horse racing extravaganza just down the M5. Literally thousands of pounds being spent on corporate hospitality, wagers and flights from and to Ireland. The week of St Patrick’s Day.

 

The weekend when both Formula One and Moto GP begin new seasons.

And the week that begins with Walsall still in third place in League One. A seeming impossibility at the end of last season.

To mark the first former Olympic cycling champion Victoria Pendleton finishes fifth in an amateur race at Cheltenham. To mark the second (and Channel Four’s debut as the channel showing F1 there is an interesting Guy Martin programme (on said Channel 4). Set up as a duel between a Red Bull F1 car (complete with semi-trailer and fourteen man pit crew) and Martin’s own superbike(arrives in the back of a white van with one mechanic) in a range of race-offs at Silverstone. The programme also, interestingly drags in science and personalities: David Coulthard piloting the car. Guy Martin in any guise is very telly-friendly: knowledgeable, charming and with an infectious humour. Non-stereotypical he “brews up tea” at the drop of a thing that is dropped easily and often and is an eccentric workaholic. Alf Tupper in leathers?

  

The factors that give the car three victories out of four are analysed, but key to the programme is the relationship that develops between the biker and the Scot.

 

Strangely – and for the first time, races in both classes will be taking part on the same weekends this season. Is this deliberate competition? Or accidental?

More seriously we have had the pronouncements of the Conservative government budget. Amongst the unexpected measures are the setting up of a tax on “Excessively sugary drinks”, allegedly to combat “child obesity” but perhaps to fund a pledge to make every school an academy rather than under local authority control: the long-threatened centralisation of control.

… and, driving home on Friday evening I hear that the alleged ring leader of the dreadful Paris attack has been captured in Brussels.

In the Saddlers news we will now not be playing our Good Friday game away at Gillingham or the home game against Shrewsbury on Easter Monday. To Bradshaw has, deservedly been called up for the Wales games – so an enforced “international break”.

This has both good and bad sides: we will gain games in hand … but these are no good if you can’t win ‘em.

Both games are being rearranged and I am seriously thinking of making the long trip to Gillingham. This has been a truly wonderful season to date (wonderful encompassing roller-coaster and frustrating but standards and spirit have been marvellous).

There are unexpectedly long queues at the ticket office when my brother and I get there; fans needing to get money back from the tickets they had perhaps bought for the postponed games, as well as some buying/collecting tickets for the game today.

There are just over a hundred fans that have made the trip from bottom-of-the-league Colchester. True fans indeed: my hat is off to them!

I decide to delay collecting my Savoy Lounge pass until after the game and head inside the Savoy Lounge. Nobody in there, so I politely nab a chair at a nearly full table and join in with chatter: the game at Burton Albion, a lady wanting to do her happy-dance goal celebrations who has just been given a job as staff nurse at Sutton Hospital and the sacking of Sean O’Driscoll.

Outside to join Cully, Jack and Mike at the pitch side. I hear about the successful trip to New York before we take our chairs.

Expectations are, of course, high; we are, after all playing the team that is bottom of our league Jon Whitney has done a fantastic job of getting the supporters behind the team (this man is a great motivator – we have yet to see if he is also a good manager). And the crowd is, quite literally, buzzing! Which is great to feel, to be part of.

 

But then reality sets in. Colchester are not going to roll over and give up. Far from it! They are keen, active, assertive and we struggle to get to grips with the speed at which they begin. Surely they cannot keep it up? Surely we will adjust ?

Then, with the ball in a totally different part of the pitch James O’Connor is down. Needing treatment. Looks serious: he is helped off the pitch, cannot put his weight on his one foot. Young Matt Preston; solid and physically awesome is shuttled on. He has already played a few games this season, but he is coming into a minefield this time. O’Connor has grown into the role of central defender over the course of this season – and has been another talisman.

Colchester’s much deserved goal comes from a corner. Lanky Owen Garvan leaping high to pop the ball past Etheridge into our net.

 

Maybe, we hope silently, the game will be called off because nine of the visiting fans run about a bit behind the goal.

Their team, cheekily and happily for them are one nil up – and looking good for it.

O.K. Fair enough we are without one of our “main men”, Adam Chambers. Young Liam Kinsella coming in for him is not having a bad game. And O’Connor is not out there, commanding the defence, but …

At some time we notice that both Jordy Hiwula and Tom Bradshaw are wearing black gloves. Tomorrow is the spring equinox, the day on which hours of sunlight and non-sunlight (technically sunlight is shaded from us by the earth itself) are equal: the first day of traditional spring, but this is the coldest day we can remember; low temperatures biting deep. Also the day, wouldn’t you know it when our gas boiler is being replaced at home (a combi boiler) so no central heating, some mess, lots of disturbance and clearing up to be looked forward to.

But, back to the gloves: I am minded of the Kirk Douglas gunfighter character in, I think, The War Wagon. But I am out-gunned by my peers who go for Robert Vaughn’s gambler-pistolero in The Magnificent Seven. Anything sometimes rather than watch poor football. Fashion and films can be a worthwhile distraction. And, is it true by the way that we can really only see 5% of everything that actually exists? That there is stuff in between the stuff that we can see?

At half time, gloves or no gloves, we are still we are one nil down. The crowd I still behind the team, but, as we kick off the second half, patience is wearing thin. We seem to be passing sideways – or worse, backwards, instead of going forwards. There is a tangible edge of frustration. How can we be so brilliant on the road and so poor at home. We haven’t won a home game in the last six. Are we jinxed?

The game continues; we are poor (and Colchester play a part, of course, dominating the game).

There are substitutions: Rico Henry off and Milan Lalkovic on (like for like or near as dammit) and Kieron Morris on for Kinsella. We stir a little after these moves. But Lalkovic cannot make an impression on the defence and is clearly annoyed with himself. Sawyers is booked (properly so for reacting angrily to a poor decision). The frustration is creeping onto the pitch.

Not sure where the plan came from but Matt Preston is now playing further forwards. Winning balls and knocking them down or on. The ball begins to go to our players, nit theirs. We are suddenly energised, realising maybe that we need to get a goal, get two: win the match … because time is running out.

Spectators all around me are adamant we will not get even a draw out of this. Me? I am not so sure.

And, faith pays off, as with a couple of minutes to go Preston finds Bradshaw who controls the ball inside the penalty area and drills a shot past the ‘keeper. We are level. Needless to say the atmosphere changes. The crowd is now baying: urging the team forwards, forwards, forwards.

Some more short, sideways passes. Long balls, crosses and we are in to time added on. Well into time added on. It seems impossible to score, but … we get a corner. Good cross from Lalkovic, the goalkeeper saves, the ball bobbles out to Bradshaw; fierce shot … comes off the bar.

To Preston, who is patience personified, waiting for the ball to drop, keeping his head.

Before he hammers it into the net … and the crowd goes crazy!

 

One we have literally pulled out of the fire.

For some reason the fourth official speaks with the referee and goalkeeper Etheridge is booked. Was he enjoying the goal/ Celebrating? He was too far away from the action. Cannot see this as anything other than an over-reaction. By the fourth official amazingly.

Happy with the three points. Still in third place: both Wigan and Burton above us winning their games (when less than secretly we were hoping they’d both slip up; give us a chance). But, honestly we had some real luck towards the end of this game and those few brave Colchester fans have every right to feel gutted on the way home to East Anglia.

Another Striker? Barnsley at Home

Thursday night I get in, pick up the Express and Star from the porch. Glance at the back page: it’s the Walsall edition so usually the biggest headline is a Saddlers one. And I need a double take.

Sean O’Driscoll has only been and got a striker in!

Has he been reading this blog? Or what?

There was some scuttlebutt about maybe possibly thinking about seeing what might happen if we played another striker up with Tom Bradshaw …

But this is definitely the best news.

He’s with Championship Huddersfield at the moment, but not getting enough first team games. So he was at Wigan on loan; now he’s come to Bescot. He has energy and a super scoring record. An out and out striker!

Oh and did I mention that the striker is Jordy Hiwula. The same Jordy Hiwula that came to us on loan last season … and scored just four minutes after his first start?

So, he’ll know the set-up if not the new manager. Knows the players; knows the dressing room.

Got to be good!

Because, after all, we didn’t lose against Scunthorpe. We managed to sneak into third place because results elsewhere went for us … and now we have another striker!

A big part of me is shrieking “about bluddy time!” but all of me is thinking it’s time to kick on!

I ‘phone the club on Thursday, trying to get my Savoy Lounge Pass, but, unfortunately (stupidly) I do not have my credit card so cannot pay for it, so cannot reserve it. I am in a bit of a quandary because the limit is a hundred and fifty and after that sales stop. Great, because we will have room to breathe. Not great because I haven’t got mine yet. Oh and there is nothing to stop them tinkering with that number at a later point is there?

Believe me when I say I am the punctual one> so, unsurprisingly I get to my brother’s about the time I said I would. But it is ridiculously early. So we drift to the parking space and have time to sit in the car, watch others park (which can be entertaining) and talk of families (and arrange a Mothers’ day celebration between us). Then stroll to the ground.

He is thinking of getting a season ticket or next season. Joining the queue to find out about my savoy Lounge Pass I see many others snapping them up. But wander into the savoy Lounge. The Tottenham v Arsenal game is on the big TVs. They are respectively second and third in the Premier League and the game kicked off early (TV coverage). The result is a hopeful one for Leicester City (who are surprise leaders of their league so far) because it is a score draw.

Cully and Andy are there. We smile, chatter about the hype, misinformation and obsession with the Brexit campaign: politicians for you!

But the team news is that Hiwula will not be starting the game! I am truly shocked; anticipation and excitement drains away. What the … ?

We are bidding, Andy suggests to become the team that has the most on-loan players that never uses them!

So far this season we have, indeed, used the fewest players (21) of any team in any of the top four leagues.

But, to consider, deliberate, get and not use a striker?

Into our seats; a group representing the sponsors are cheerful and there is some friendly banter: beards, aunties and agility in there somewhere. It is a fine thing about the seats we have and the type of people who come to the games that we can so quickly build up a good relationship with others (these guys from In Touch With Walsall), the scout from Ipswich …

Barnsley are the in-form team at the moment. Sean O’Driscoll rates them and has said so publicly. Now I am not so sure if this is a good thing, but every manager has their own style, and I have to think he knows how to do the psychological part of his job.

But once the kick-off is over we can see we are in for a game And then again, we seem a little short of ideas; too many clever, short passes and long, hopeful balls in the general direction of the ever-willing, but not superhuman, Tom Bradshaw.

Long story short: we go goal down, find some spirit somewhere and get an equaliser. Then spend some time bossing the game. A comedy moment when the referee is injured and seeks medical attention. The players mill about, energy drinks and a conversation between Sam Mantom and a couple of the Tykes.

There’s a good crowd here from Oop North. Which goes wild when they nick a deserved second goal.

Walsall fans, rather harshly but nonetheless saying it as they se it begin a chant of

“He’s Sean O’Driscoll;

He hasn’t a clue.”

Prompting substitutions: Lalkovic on for a below-par Kieron Morris and Hiwula on for Romaine Sawyers. Bradshaw is suddenly limping, cannot carry on and Jordan Cook is brought on.

Barnsley get a third, but frankly I cannot remember at which stage of the game-of-subs.

Cook over-extends himself, stretching for a high ball and collapses.

Hiwula is full of running, but does not have the time to make an impact.

The drive home is rather subdued.

Did we just blow our chances of automatic promotion?

Fire Regs at the Beech Hotel: Burton Albion Away.

“Fire Regs” at the Beeches: Burton Albion Away.

I read in the local paper that we have made another loan signing (though last midfield “box-to-box” loanee from Middlesbrough has yet to fire a shot in anger).

A striker! It has to be a striker doesn’t it? We need somebody to help take the pressure off hard-running Tom Bradshaw, win balls for him to run on to, so that he can use his devastating close ball control to engineer more goals and ease us into the final stretch of the season and a winning run …

So, surely be Gad (as my maternal grandfather would have said) I will read on to find we have snapped up a forward; for me, preferably a target man type, but any flavour will do. Surely … ?

No, reading on, and I guess it’s no real surprise that we’ve hooked up another “versatile” midfielder. Admittedly from Premier League Bournemouth (could never have imagined I’d be typing those words in the same sentence) … but, still …

On Thursday night we were at The Garrick Theatre, lovely little local theatre watching A Murder is Announced by Agatha Christie. A typical whodunit featuring the nimble-minded Miss Marple. It’s a story I don’t know but manage to predict the eventual ending( all the while sitting next to a tight-lipped saddlers Widow who remembers the plot from a TV adaptation).

Good to be at the theatre: live entertainment and nights getting both lighter and, dare I say it? Warmer?

But we need two cars to get to the game at Burton on Saturday. Having a good season means that there is now a regular brood of six from Rugeley: and that means an extra car.

Home to one of the biggest breweries in Europe (once upon a time it was Bass, founded in Victorian times, taken over by Banks’ now operated by U.S. giants Coors) Burton is about seventeen easy miles from my house. I worked there once upon a time and have some magical memories of people and events there. (Burton also houses other breweries and a fine micro-brewery at The Bridge.) No surprise that the team is nicknamed the Brewers, with Billy Brewer being the mascot.

 

I offer to do the driving and, after having a quick chat with visiting-home daughter Bec and Scott I top up with petrol and am just a few minutes late. I like to be organised: decide we will park at the official Burton Car park, but as we turn off the A38 get the message that there is a perfect parking spot opposite the Beeches pub and slide gently backwards into the said space.

The Beech Hotel (pub) is the “traditional away fans pub”. At 12.30 the car park is already full, the bar heaving, choruses of Goin’ Down the Wednesbury Road” floating up to blue skies and a ruck of police officers and security men around.

There is also “Little joe’s Burger Van”; with only on family queueing (it is quite early but I warn the woman who serves me that Saddlers’ fans love a burger). I am the only one eating: simple burger and chips and a pint of lager shandy.

Then, giving up one of the only three silver chairs at the only table I join the others to neck my shandy. And it is getting noticeably colder; or is that just the shandy? This provokes some discussion about the relative merits of leather gloves. I can only listen because I have left my own Thinsulate gloves in my other coat.

Jack and Chris decide there’s time for another round (there’s plenty of time as it turns out) but return, laughing about the fact that when Chris steps out of the bouncer- guarded door he is told he cannot go back in as there is a strict “one out-one –in” policy. He tries to tell the guy that he has just come out (the one out) but needs to go back in, to be told:

“Fire regs mate!”

There are times when it just isn’t worth the words …

Meanwhile, we wonder whether these two security guys actually realise that there is a whole separate entrance off the “beer garden” and that people are nipping both in and out of it willy-nilly.

Drinks duly drained we set off to walk the half mile or so to the Pirelli Stadium. This is a different approach: I know the one side of the ground reasonably well as a “conference venue” having attended umpteen meetings there back in the day. But never on a match day and never on a day when the Brewers are actually looking reasonably odds-on for a second consecutive promotion.

Today playing against another, very local and potential promotion candidate in the Saddlers.

And the ground is rammed.

I had been a little angry (unreasonably so) earlier in the run up because of wat I considered a grudgingly small allocation of tickets for away fans: there are reportedly one thousand eight hundred of us crammed into approximately a third of the ground. It is tine: neat, cantilevered stands, but still incredibly small. And we are sardined together: a throwback to the nineteen seventies games in a way: in the standing only section behind the goals. I have a reasonably good position in front of a crash barrier, but my legs are feeling the treadmill running I was doing last night at the gym. But, hey all those bodies crammed in make it warm.

And we are so noisy!

The P.A system is poor: indistinct and the mighty Queen song is reduced to mediocrity, sounding like a poorly practised cover band on a bad night.

Our manager Sean O’Driscoll has been trying, it seems, to play this game down in the media: but nobody here is taken in: we need to win and we want to win. I have my own, tribal instinct reasons to want to come out on top, but this is football.

Burton are managed by Nigel Clough: they are bound, because of this to be a physically tough team and also be fit. I fear it is a game we will do well to get out of with even a single point and everyone uninjured.

 

What would I know?

First off: the team news is good: we have reliable O’Connor back in the centre of the defence. He is combative but experienced and has a wonderful never-say-die attitude. Young Matt Preston has had a good couple of games while O’Connor was out injured, but this is a game that needs a level of maturity. Paul Downing will no doubt be calmer too. Andy Taylor is still at left back. Hmmm, what is going on with the super-talented Rico Henry (he is on the bench meanwhile)?

Before the kick off we actually see our new loanee, just dabbling at the side of the pitch; a few simple exercises. He is soon out of breath. Does he have the fitness we need? There is also Mick Kearns down there, talking with someone, perhaps for the on-line commentary?

By kick off the stand is so crammed I cannot raise my hands in front of me. It feels so confined: low roof, short distance to the pitch side wall. A real throwback to the earlier days of my football watching days. Except we are standing on well-made concrete steps not an ash bank or hard packed earth, and there are no holes in the stand walls for the wind to whistle through and there are no holes in the roofing for rain to find and drip drip drip down my neck. In fact at some grounds there just was no roof for away fans. The good old days?

And this is a sell-out crowd! A top-of-the-table clash local derby!

Walsall are up and at it straight away. Taylor and Lalkovic trying a few things down the left. That don’t somehow come off.

 

And we look good!

Indeed we look good for the whole game, but this left wing thing just is never going to work today. The team, however is up for it. Forde, in particular has been quite outstanding in recent games; more sensible, adopting a wider vision and making some killer runs. Bradshaw is having a busy time; nothing new there then. But he keeps on going. There seems to be something going on: Bradshaw knocking the ball back (under some hefty challenges ) to Sawyers. Sawyers making something happen, bringing in Forde or Demetriou, or Mantom. We also try some hopeful long balls, but these big defenders eat them up. But we are fast, winning some loose ball challenges and looking god. But we have to make this dominance pay. Get a goal! Get a second. We can pass, pass, pass, run, pass back all day but what we need is goals and, try as we might we cannot get a goal.

Half time and nobody is moving. We need to keep our spaces and wriggling out, getting coffee or having a pee, just looks like too much work. Then I get the nutter. He comes from somewhere, pushing and shoving his jelly-boned way through the masses. Ducks under the crash barrier and puts himself in the space. All of the second half he is gibbering, loudly on. And On. And on. What he is saying makes little or no sense; criticising players who are having a good game, moaning about O’Driscoll. Football grounds are not always places to have an in-depth discussion with strangers and there is just no arguing with some people. And arguing with an idiot just proves there are two idiots so … I keep my peace, smile grimly and watch the game.

Walsall kicking towards us in the second half. Still bossing the game. Still not scoring. Still getting knocked about. Little protection from the referee.

There is no scoreboard at the Pirelli Stadium to let me know how long is left to play and it is full time before I realise it.

I am not disappointed, strangely. Pleased that we didn’t lose in the last minute (like last week) but this was a game that, surprisingly would have been so easy to win. We still need that striker … if anybody is listening.

It is simple, simple to slide the car out of the parking space, across the traffic, onto the generous A 38 and I have delivered my passengers to Rugeley and am at home in little longer than it takes to get back from a home game. Wigan ,still heads-down and charging win, taking them beyond our reach (at the moment) to second, but in the way that will happen (us being Walsall) to keep us o tenterhooks, other results go in our favour. We could have done with the win, but we hang on to fourth place (and still have a game in hand on second and third placed teams.

“First, second or seventh!” was the cry in he car on the way to Burton. Me? I’m thinking that if we need to get into the Championship via the play-offs, I’ll take it!

Up The Saddlers!

Small Competencies and Magpies: Blackpool at Home

 

Saturday, 23 January 2016

This morning, looking out of the kitchen window I spotted two magpies sitting in the bare crown of a nearby ash tree. Two? That’ll be

One for sorrow,

Two for joy …

That has to mean a Walsall win today surely; against Blackpool, short of support, with a megalomaniac chairman and just beginning to revive their fortunes (they beat Scunthorpe five nil last weekend).

I duly saluted the birds, being blown in the warm (yes warm) January gusts of wind.

We were en route to the allotment, via the library to return books and take out new ones. I was taking back a Terry Venables biography; Born To Manage. In his time Venables has managed QPR, Tottenham, Barcelona, England, attracted and generated all kinds of publicity and written (or co-written) a number of books. As usual a person’s autobiography reveals what that person wants to have shown and is short on those that would give a rounded assessment. For me the phrase “everyone seemed to think I was just a cheeky cockney” was repeated too often. Wonder why that is then Tel?

Earlier in the week we had booked last-minute tickets to go to hear Chris Hadfield, Canadian born test pilot, astronaut and International Space Station commander talk at Birmingham Symphony Hall. Simply stunning. A modest, articulate presentation, given with a sense of place and sense of humour. But what great things this man – born into a nation without a space programme – has achieved already in his lifetime.

He puts it down to ambition, determination and “building small competencies”; talking about the future of space exploration, his own experiences, personal insights in a genuine and inspirational way. Giving credit to all of the ingenuity that was Birmingham and the Black Country in Industrial Revolution times (1760 to 1840) where and when there were people taking personal, financial risks and risking capital to move ideas, commerce and society forwards he fitted this wonderfully into his overall presentation.

I came away with new perspectives; primarily that “one space rocket” is actually “ a thousand or more small inventions bolted together” and thinking for the first time that science and technology have got us to a stage where we could almost build a “Moonbase Alpha” on the moon. After all, as Hadfield explained “anyone under the age of fifteen has lived in a time in which not all of us lived on Earth” because up in the international space station people were testing the small competencies that would enable us to leave the planet.”

Back to match day and I got a surprise text from my brother. I had believed he was heading for Scotland but he had changed his plans. So he picked me up and we headed to the game.

Notably small band of fans in the away end. Karl Oyston, their chairman has – and is – upset their supporters by the at least cavalier attitude he has with their money apparently. Many of the fans believe, to put it mildly that he has been responsible for poor management of funds. They are not happy and so boycott games. This, however does not seem to affect Oyston in the slightest.

But so many have turned up and are packed into the home end. Cheerful, noisy and expectant. There has been a rush on this week to get tickets for the Burton Albion game. It was never predicted but both Burton and Walsall are having wonderful seasons: at start of play today they were top of league one, we were second … and they have a game in hand.

But this run of results and the magnificent performances finally seem to have generated bums-on-seats! Yes! Higher attendances, higher income, better motivation on match days … better results and, er … promotion? Yes?

Definitely maybe!

And what these supporters got was a high energy game from beginning to end. Blackpool an entirely different side to the one that rolled over and died in August ( https://saddlersfan.wordpress.com/2015/08/30/vote-pies-blackpool-away/ ). An intense game but played fairly with very few serious infringements but, sadly dominated by a referee who saw things differently (taking six names; three from each team by the end of the game).

We had the most possession, but failed to do anything with it. I love the neat little interplays, close ball control – and we can do this in spades! – but get frustrated when the team tries to get in just one more pass before shooting – oh and one more …

Consequently at half time after a fast paced game we are locked at nil-nil. It hasn’t been boring but there are no goals.

Burton, we learn are losing against Shrewsbury … could it be? If we can take the three points on offer, we are, we are, we are top of the league. That’d be a boost!

We eventually take the lead after some fine wing work and Andy Taylor – knocked down and probably out in an earlier incident – puts it over for Demetriou – nominally a full back but so often with the speed of Billy Whizz, getting up and attacking, putting the boot on it that gives us one nil.

Blackpool are stung into action: there’s a flurry of substitutions: Bradshaw off for Lalkovic, Henry off and Matt Preston on and Kieron Morris on for Sawyers.

In the run-down of the added on time Blackpool get a free kick. It comes back off the wall and a Tangerine (had to get that one in), Philliskirk, is in exactly the right place to squeeze in the equaliser. This has been a tremendous game of football: skills and spills on both sides … and it is good, sometimes just to recognise this value in a single game rather than see t in the context of the bigger-picture race to promotion. Where (and maybe this is the joy those two birds brought to us this morning, results have gone in our favour: Burton ended up losing and the other top teams don’t profit from our letting go of two points in a thrilling game.

Meanwhile we can see in front of our very eyes those small competencies being built up. Up the Saddlers!

 

 

“Game On!”: Bury Away

I get the expected ‘phone call at just after 10.30 (when I posted a shout out on the Book of Faces “to all supporters hanging on pitch inspections”). The referee had sensibly inspected the Gigg Lane pitch and wanted a second look at 12.30 but was fairly confident the game would be on. We would split the difference, leave at mid-day and be neither here nor there by the time the ref decided, but able to turn one way or the other easily enough.

We cram into the BMW. I’m in the front revelling in the comfort of the heated seat. The sat nav is primed, and with three more people crammed into the back we head for the M6.

On the way, listening to BBC Five Live (Sports) and the cricket we hear that Man City have ended the loan of George Evans “with immediate effect”. So he won’t be playing today – and he has been a super loanee, from day one!

But what is going on? It can only be that he has been sold. His contract is finished at the end of this season and … almost certainly, we all decide he’s on his way to Brentford … and our former manager.

We take a detour to avoid “animas on the road” (though unsure: Atlantic salmon? Blue whales confused by the floods? swallows fooled by the temperatures? Walsall supporters?)

 

We are alongside Gigg Lane stadium before we spot it; alongside the main road but crouching behind a curtain of ash trees. A right turn and we are immediately into cramped streets packed with cars parked bumper to bumper. Presumably going to the game. But we find a slot on Market Street and leg it down to the ground, nipping in to the Pym Gate Lounge nearby. Good job I was in the heated front seats. It costs a pound to get in, but they aren’t wasting it on having he heating on. The inside is most unwelcoming, cold, furnitureless and lacking in character.

I chose Warsteiner beer: last time I was drinking this was at Chris’s stag event in Tallinn – now the very man is he’s sitting opposite me and planning to become a teacher.

Bury stewards reportedly kept the match on by pouring kettles of boiling water onto the one goal area – and wisdom in the car says that water freezes at zero Celsius and melts at two degrees Celsius – and the first snow is falling as we exit the back door of the establishment and pay to walk into the away stand. Which is incidentally the only stand with no roof supports to obscure the view. Behind the goals again.

But this ground, probably one of the oldest left in the football league, set behind that stand of ash trees and alongside packed streets has a real feel to it – unlike the rather sterile Ricoh Arena we were leaving just a few days ago – and we like it.

George Evans, no less, is actually sitting a few rows behind us. Great show of solidarity but does not, will not or cannot tell us what is going on. We wish him well of course; he came along at the perfect time for us and gave us something we needed. He would have made a super Saddler, but the chance is gone … until, as always, next time.

So we kick off without Evans. Taylor is in at left back, Henry in mid field, Demetriou back in right back place and Forde in for Lalkovic. Strong start in the softly falling snow. But Bury choose to defend. And then score an own goal to help us on our way. Ridiculously inept clearance – under no pressure that slipped past a surprised keeper and settled the pattern for the first half.

We are clearly on top, mastering their mid-field and the conditions far, far better. Tactical nous? Fitness? Preparation? Magic? It really doesn’t matter, we see our team winning the second bounce, being first and hardest into tackles and passing into space and to feet with precision. So, this is what it feels like …

Tom Bradshaw gets the ball under control, swaps feet and rifles in the second.

George Evans – has he seen enough already – leaves his seat, heading home to watch TV?

Forde takes a pass. I will him to go on a bit of a run; he does, past a couple,  goes further still; edge of the box, drops the shoulder and pops in a third.

 

Relax Jack I think we’ve gone past your least favourite score (two nil up) and are well on the way to your favourite six nil.

Evans is back by then. We misjudged him. Real solidarity with the team – and supporters from the man. He’d been to grab a cuppa before the place got too crowded. I wonder how strange it must be to sit watching what you normally do? Strange? Educational ?

Five hundred and some supporters there. Not bad really, given that the game might have been called off and this is our second (and away games are not cheap) within five days.

I have a meat and potato pie at half time, not cold but taking away the edge of hunger. That and a coffee to prepare for what must be a rout in the second half. Bury were poor for the first forty five minutes, surely we can put ‘em to the sword, do our goal difference a power of good and boost our promotion hopes?

If only …

We lost at home to Bury. They were well organised and brought the game to us. During half time they have re-thought their game and soon get a goal back (their big centre forward not so lumbering now0. His name is Leon Clarke, he is something of a veteran and very quickly does it again.

That idea we had at half time to keep things in hand for the first ten/fifteen minutes was just chewing smoke after all. Now we are under pressure. But we survive, pick up the pace: a couple of substitutions: Morris on for Henry and, eventually Matt Preston on for Tom Bradshaw.

The snow has made the surface tricky but Bury – and great credit to their small bunch of loyal fans who, though quietened down in the first half have stayed and given their support – are harder to master in the second half.

We exit fairly swiftly. I am in the back seat on the return journey, squashed, but I’ve been less happy in worse conditions. We jam and shuffle until we reach the major roads and we sail smoothly home, hearing via the radio that we are now second in the league: back in the automatic promotion slots again.

Incidentally Burton Albion had a great result; winning away at Coventry and are still leading the field.

Seconds Out: Round Three {F.A. Cup: Brentford Away)

Last week we were walking from the car to the ground when my mobile phone went. It was tucked away under several layers of clothes, but I managed to dig it out and answer before it rang out. Cully was in the queue to get tickets for the F.A. Cup game at Brentford. Would I like one? Not half!

But, even before we had finished a short conversation the card had gone up: all allocation sold, no tickets left.

So we satisfied ourselves by getting tickets for the Tuesday game at Coventry.

But that is truly amazing: we will be taking about sixteen hundred fans down to Griffin Park! To this “showdown” against the team now managed by our former manager Dean Smith (one time “Ginger Mourinho”)

Between then and now Ben Stokes, England cricketer has absolutely smashed some records in a test match against top class opposition: South Africa in Capetown. Some of the records that, amazingly, fell:

Fastest Test double century by an England batsman

• Highest score by an England batsman at Newlands, beating Jack Hobbs’ 187 in 1910

• Most sixes by an England batsman (11), surpassing Wally Hammond in 1933

• Most runs scored in a day of Test cricket in South Africa (453), beating the 450 made by Australia in Johannesburg in 1921.

While I find it hard to become too involved in cricket (perhaps because I was never very good at it at school) this is a wonderful story and speaks volumes for an obviously talented player. Worth a mention, too is his partner at the stumps: Yorkshire’s Bairstow who would almost certainly have made his own headlines on any other day, displaying impressively powerful hitting of his own. The 26-year-old Yorkshire wicketkeeper hit five fours and a six in the space of nine balls and now averages 104 in three matches against South Africa.

 

Back to football and, at work we were discussing this weekend’s F.A. Cup games. This is the third round: the one where Premier League teams join the draw. So, after the early stages we now have all the teams in action. The time for historic giant killings? But over the past few years some upper echelon teams have played weakened teams and been knocked out, because, essentially the F.A. Cup has lost its prestige.

So my oppo, the Blues supporter reckons that in the Blues vs Bournemouth game both teams will play “lesser” teams. We cannot decide whether this means there will be more goals or less – and how about the quality of the game?

Will we see weakened teams in the Bees v Saddlers game? Both managers are in the media saying that, in each case the next games in the leagues (Championship for Birmingham, League One for us) are more important. But is it bluff or true? Psychological rambling?

The BBC, meanwhile is all over the F.A. Cup; one of the few major events it now televises. So there was a game on – and live on TV on Friday night. League Two Exeter playing Premier League Liverpool.

 

Exeter manager Paul Tisdale was one of the people allegedly considered for the Walsall job a month or so ago. the game is played on a very soggy pitch it is an intriguing game. Either out of faith in his younger players, desperation because of injuries or disrespect for the team from the lower league Liverpool governor Jurgen Klopp plays a team with few, if any recognisable names in it. Exeter go ahead; early on. Liverpool equalise. Exeter go ahead again with a sweet goal scored direct from a corner (unbelievable!) and Liverpool scrape another equaliser. Credit to Exeter, of course. Also to the young Liverpool players for their grit and determination.

 

So now the big question: it is, of course, super for Exeter to have the replay at Anfield financially, but will Klopp play a similar side at Anfield? Will he dare to … in front of the home fans?

 

What if we introduce a new rule: Premiership teams that only draw with teams from leagues one or Two forfeit the game. Should do away with the need for bothersome replays, and add spice to the F.A. Cup ties. Which do not get the respect they deserve from some clubs. Speaking of which Aston Villa manage to score in a one all draw at Wycombe ( a League two team). And I have a secret fear that, while hoping we play brilliantly and win, it will be an opportunity for Brentford staff to cast an eye over our players. And I don’t like that! (Our manager Sean O’Driscoll is quoted as denying the rumour about an offer from an un-named (perhaps Brentford?) Championship team already for Tom Bradshaw.

So, tinkering about at home pre-Walsall game, I discover that I can actually either watch BBC WM live (interesting) or get a full match commentary on the game. It is not a question: I go for the commentary: Rob Gurney and former Walsall player James Chambers. Fair team out for Walsall and seems we are playing two up front: Bradshaw and Lalkovic. Kinsella is in for right back and Rico Henry is back in to play down the left wing. According to the commentary (with the down to earth comments from Chambers) it seems we are not disgracing ourselves, then getting on top …

Then, with Downing moving forwards into the Brentford half Sam Mantom gets off a shot that fizzes into the Brentford net after thirty five minutes. I am impressed; Dean Smith perhaps less so.

 

In the second half Brentford boss the game, but we are stubborn and they cannot get past. It is raining heavily. Some substitutions made by both teams and, near the end there’s a tremendously powerful header from O’Connor (so we’re clearly not backs-to-the-wall defending) that comes back off the Brentford post

… and we are into the next round.

A couple of clearly delighted Walsall fans are on air, and asked about Dean Smith they say his departure from Bescot felt like “if your girlfriend leaves you for a midget …” An interesting analogy even if I am sure it is not how most of us see the switch.  Sean O’Driscoll was far more generous, giving Smith and O’Kelly praise for putting together a squad with such a fine spirit. Now our former manager can get on and concentrate on trying to get into the Premiership. I wish him well with that.

Meanwhile I am guessing/hoping we have all got Dean Smith out of our systems and the team we support is now well and truly Sean O’Driscoll’s.

Round Four: now, who do we fancy?

Be good to get a home game!

Post Script: Blues end up losing to Bournemouth; Wolves also go out.

 

•  

Happy? New Year! Rochdale at Home

3rd January: home

So Christmas, the commercial juggernaut has been truly upon us. Twenty four seven TV (and this year, for the first time I notice the preponderance of war films; some of them black and white and inspirational-type ones (The Dambusters), others a more simple glorification of war with heroes and villains easily distinguishable, and others that can be read at a deeper level; or indeed many levels such as Kelly’s Heroes (so far one of my all-time favourite films of any genre).

But also the episodes that have become staple fare (the Dr Who Christmas Special) and so on.

But in addition this year there has been a David Beckham (as UNICEF ambassador) documentary. The concept was to play a “game of football” on each of the Earth’s seven (7: the shirt that Beckham is famously associated with wearing) continents.

I didn’t catch it all, but what I did see has me thinking many things.

First what a great personality this talented footballer is. Both humble and generous he has developed from a shy, awkward TV character to a commanding presence (practice of course) always remembering his roots, his family, apparently keeping his feet on the ground and using his fame for good cause. The concept was to play a “game of football” on each of the Earth’s seven (7: the shirt that Beckham is famously associated with wearing) continents.

Secondly – for me, inevitably – how much did it cost to make this programme? Flying people and kit across the world and all of the additional costs: the trip to Antarctica for example, though stunningly filmed, would have set somebody back a pretty penny. And does the subsequent marketing justify this expenditure? The cause, undeniably brilliant and worthwhile was launched in 2015, 7: The David Beckham UNICEF Fund, is David’s personal commitment to use his voice, influence and connections to raise vital funds and rally for lasting change for children.

Did it do that? His visits to places? The publicity it generated? Or was it just some kind of Hollywood stunt that everybody got carried away with?

From the blurb comes the following: “The first stop saw David visit the highlands of Papua New Guinea where he spent time in a traditional village and learnt about the challenges facing children in the country. In Papua New Guinea, malnutrition is a leading cause of death in children under five. UNICEF, with the support of David’s own 7 Fund is providing treatment for children suffering malnutrition as well as working to educate communities on improved nutrition.

Next, David visited Nepal, where he saw the devastation caused by April’s powerful earthquake. In Kathmandu, David met children at a temporary learning centre established with support from UNICEF. The school is one of 1,500 temporary learning centres that UNICEF has helped to set up after the earthquake destroyed over 34,500 classrooms.

In Djibouti, the third of seven countries, David spent time at a refugee camp meeting children and families including those displaced by conflict and violence in neighbouring countries. In Djibouti, about 1 in 15 children die before their 5th birthday, often from preventable causes. At the Ali Addeh camp, which is home to over 10,000 refugees from Ethiopia, Eritrea and Somalia, David saw how UNICEF is providing life-saving vaccines to protect children from preventable diseases such as polio and measles.

The amazing journey, which also took in Buenos Aries in Argentina, Antarctica and Miami in the United States, culminated 10 days after departure at Old Trafford with the unforgettable Match For Children, which raised vital funds and focus attention on UNICEF work for children in danger around the world.”

The game in Antarctica involved a fortunately sunny window of weather and, reportedly the first ever “international game” of football played in full Arctic gear on a scuffled-flat packed snow pitch.

In the U.S.A Beckham played on each side in a rooftop, artificial pitch game between two women’s teams. The game we call football is usually termed “soccer” in the States and rose to prominence first as a game for women. This also gave the chance for an equality message: much needed across the world.

But, taken as entertainment the programme was well worth watching: not least because the “tour” ended with a bona fide Great Britain against the Rest of the World (with Sir Alex Ferguson returning from retirement to manage the G.B. team) This game was played at Old Trafford on the weekend of the terrorist attacks in Paris. This meant that a number of French players, understandably, dropped out of the game. This was the week we were in Durham ( featured in my own post at https://saddlersfan.wordpress.com/2015/11/22/paris-silences-and-the-blades/ )

But after Christmas the bitter-sweet end of another year, a cracking Rock Big Ben show on TV from Bryan Adams (great duet with Beverley Knight (Wolverhampton lass) and the release of the New year’s Honours List.

This usually features a number of sports personalities and this year includes cyclist Chris Froome. Also there are John Surtees, who won seven world motorcycling crowns before claiming six Grand Prix victories and the 1964 world drivers’ title, was honoured with the title of Commander of the Order of the British Empire in recognition of his considerable contribution to the field of motorsport. Jockey A.P. McCoy also became a knight.

From football Denis Law (most famously of man Utd and Scotland) and Francis Lee (man City and England) are honoured, not only for their sporting prowess but for their contributions to sport and to charity. Recently asked whether the man United team who played in would beat the currently struggling and embattled man united law said his team would have won one nil. Asked why the score line would have been so close he quipped that “most of the team I played in are in their seventies now!”. His sense of fun has clearly not diminished.

 

 

Women’s football was also recognised: two England stalwarts Steph Houghton and Fara Williams being honoured. Genuine recognition and well deserved. How long, I wonder before women are actually playing in mixed teams in an official league? Watch this space!

Before heading out to pick up my brother on the way to the home game against Rochdale I have time to watch some of mid-day football programme Football Focus. It concentrates, sadly, on the Premier league of course, but there is a spot where Gary Lineker is at St George’s Park (half an hour’s drive away and close to the village of Rangemore where I worked once upon a time).

England Under 19s are training in the background … and there, for a moment is Rico Henry. This is January. There is a very good chance that he will be one of our players snapped up during this transfer window where bigger clubs can buy players like, well, like young Rico.

It is one of the sad facts of being a supporter of a league one team that we see talent on its way to bigger and better things … and, occasionally talent going in the opposite direction (Paul Merson being a super example of this).

Tom Bradshaw is only on the bench (bit surprising that) and Henry too. Within the first three minutes the other surprise is that mid-table Rochdale have had three shots and one of them has gone in.

Nobody expected that – and the team settle down to pull it all back. Not looking particularly flustered until Rochdale pack the spaces and we cannot get past their busy players. Lalkovic seems out of sorts up front and Cook is disappointing today. Sawyers seems tired and playing, for me, too far back.

… and we just don’t look to have the energy, the urgency, the invention … for the first time this season.

It is disappointing and frustrating. During the whole game I don’t think we had a single shot on target (I am of course bound to be wrong!); even the late introduction of Morris, Bradshaw and Henry don’t make the required difference and Rochdale are all over us. Their few – loyal – supporters are ecstatic as we file out having lost three –nil.

Despite this Neil Etheridge is the sponsor’s man of the match. Honestly he would have been my choice too. O.K. he let in three, but kept so many others out!

But, let’s hope that’s the blip out of the way: next week we are at Brentford. Ticket allocations sold out, so I wish the lads well … but, look after the squad and back to league business as soon as possible please.

PARIS SILENCES AND THE BLADES.

 

Gave up the chance last weekend for a romantic weekend at the biennial Lumiere in Durham. But as things dropped out got to have my cake and eat it. Tom Bradshaw’s performances, skill and pure dogged hard work earned him a call up to train with the full Wales team … and the Shrewsbury game, postponed as part of the “international break” (Bradshaw is not just an international,” my brother smilingly said, “he’s another Walsall international!”)  has been rearranged – and I may be able to get there!

 

Our stunningly skilled left back Rico Henry also gets to play two times in the England under-19s. One of a number of players attracting attention from higher profile clubs (is it possible Glasgow Rangers are truly spying on Tom Bradshaw?) we can only hope that he keeps faith with us and stays; at least until the end of this season. Etheridge in goals, this-season’s-revelation Rom Sawyers and – his time will surely come – Kieron Morris (in all respects “one of our own”) are also contributing to this fantastic start to the season.

But last weekend – starting with a public address message to “evacuate the building” at the Garrick Theatre, Lichfield quickly became infamous for other reasons.

A string of co-ordinated attacks in Paris – guns and bombs – means that one hundred and thirty innocent people (in cafes, at the football international between France and Germany  and in the audience to watch an Eagles of Death Metal concert at the Bataclan) are murdered – and many more wounded. This is the work of Islamic State and is designed to cause the spread of fear and uncertainty. It is not the religion of Islam. Nor is it the desire of Muslims. It is twisted, bitter and, ultimately can only delay the enlightened peace and tolerance the world actually needs.

An England international friendly on Tuesday night goes ahead. Security is – inevitably and properly stepped up and the crown joins together in  brave attempt at the French national anthem (The Marsellaises) and the players mixed together standing in a circle for a minute’ s silence. Respect and honour to all involved.

 

The original attacks targeted music and sport. What was seen as a “silly and unnecessary game of football” became a symbol of unity. How very apt. The people’s game; a moment for the people.

The morning f the Sheffield United game was a little fraught. Daughter visiting; her partner replacing our kitchen tap (me and water do not mix and do not mix in a very dramatic fashion!), then we were to eat and he and I head to the game. Time passes and he gets the water flowing out of a very artistic gizmo, we eat and shoot towards Fortress Bescot. Until Bloxwich. Buses, pedestrians, giving courteous if clenched teeth way to those joining the route. Grrrr!

Decide to head past the hospital instead of past the Arboretum. Wondering if this is the change of regular routine that disturbs the runes that means we lose the game (there is a word for this taking responsibility for things beyond your individual control but I cannot remember it).

We manage to get inside the stadium and take our seats in time. The teams are coming out: Sheffield are expected to get out of League One this year and look impressive. I recognise the guy on the wing (Jamal Campbell-Ryce) as a bit of a cheat even before the game kicks off: seen him before, seen his diving and mouthing away at the refs before.

We prepare for the Minute’s silence in respect of those affected by the Paris murders. But once the whistle is blown to signal its commencement there is somebody still talking in the away end.

Not for long!

A voice booms out: broad Northern accent:

“Shut up you are a f*&%ing disgrace!”

Well said sir!

Silence.

The game kicks off and we are on a charge. Playing towards the away end we press three men forwards: Morris, Lalkovic and – of course Super-Tom Bradshaw.

Goalkeepers at both ends pull off some brilliant saves. Players at both ends have some shots on target, but we have more They come back off the post, the cross bar and ricochet from shin, to boot to head and are cleared with a degree of panic, again and again so that it resembles a pinball machine inside their penalty box.

Campbell Ryce is at it again; his timing Is poor (he topples over dramatically several seconds after the challenge) but the ref falls for it. He follows the referee bending his ear. Galling and unnecessary – so why doesn’t the ref take his name? (Because it’ll take too long to write it down is all we can come up with).

Actually by half time we know we are seeing  a great game. Intense. Two sides trying to win the points. Maybe coming by the hospital is not only faster but doesn’t affect the outcome ?

Second half begins with a long delay because a Sheffield player gets caught by a limb during an innocuous challenge. But five whole minutes? Get the toe rag off the pitch and get on with the game. (noticeable that even within two minutes of coming back onto the field of play the Sheffield players are taking on water. Really? What was half time for then?

The contrast between this gamesmanship and our naïve but wonderful honesty is shown when Adam Chambers gets clobbered. He goes to the ground, kneels and wipes his eyes, then he’s up and running it off. In pain? No doubt! In line for an Oscar? Not this Saddler, bless him … and by Milan Lalkovic and Rico Henry running through challenges, having their shirts pulled and eager to stay on their feet, run on and get a pass or a cross in. Is it necessary to have the cheats on your team to get promotion? I hope not, but Sheffield have their share.

Sawyers is either off form or being marked out of the game today. He drifts about, puts in some fine accurate long passes but doesn’t have a turn-the-game moment.

…until he gets a pass on the edge of the United area, redirects it to George Evans who loops it back to an overlapping sawyers. He squirts a low, driven centre across the box, which evades every Walsall player ..

… except for Tom Bradshaw, at the far post who gleefully pokes it into the net.

He is pleased! The crowd are overjoyed!  He hasn’t scored for some time now, but he’s on the trail again!

Last season I am sure that, at this point we would have sat back and tried to soak up the pressure. Today we don’t play like that any more. We keep going forward, keep throwing players up. Couple of shots are crazily off target, including one from Downing. He’s not having a great game today – passes going wrong too.

Sheffield respond – of course they do! They suddenly seem bigger, more physical and faster to the ball. Always first to the rebound and creating some chaos in our defence. Including what everybody in the ground – bar the referee – thinks is a certain penalty. The ref doesn’t want to know. Phew! Maybe he was just waiting for that moment: they’ve got every free kick when they dived, I’m not giving that one as well. Who knows?

We have tired players. Morris is replaced by Antony Forde, Lalkovic by Cook.

Then Sheffield United get the equaliser – and it’s impossible to deny that they deserved it.

Keen to get the winner we press forwards, but when to whistle goes it is one all. Coventry now sit at the top of this league, having beaten Gillingham at the Gill’s ground. They are now four points ahead of us. We have a game in hand (away at Shrewsbury) and can get past second place Gillingham if we win it.

Tuesday evening sees us going to Swindon Town, but that’s a trip I cannot make.

But another home game next Saturday: Bradford.

“… 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?