The Difference a Few Days Make:Gillingham Away/Southend at Home.

Part One: Before Kick-Off

It’s Saturday morning.

Unusually when my mobile ‘phone rings I am still asleep. It’s nearly 10 a.m. we were at our youngest daughters yesterday. Amongst other things (motorbike tyres, Lidl, getting the horses in and eating we watched The Warriors film ( a version of the return journey of ancient Greek general Xenophon/the Odyssey I think) and Captain America, The Winter Soldier. I’ve always been a sucker for the wonderful myths and legends from ancient Greece – and marvel Comic stories.

 

Coming into vague consciousness to answer the call – and recognising how to operate the damned thing – I hope I exhibit more of Captain America than the Hulk. Though Saddlers Widow smiles at both suggestions when I mention it (just in passing you understand?).

Last Friday (seems so long ago now) I was all fired up: ready to travel to Oldham (I did) and far away Gillingham for what became the epic fifth position-in-the-table (them) versus sixth (us) game.

But, things and a small dip in faith kept me away. Coward-like I bunkered down at home and found the live BBC Radio WM commentary.

So glad I did, but a little ashamed I didn’t actually make the journey. There are no wasted journeys so far this season: we sounded back in form and came out two-one winners. Playing without Tom Bradshaw goals went to Milan Lalkovic and Jordy Hiwula. Rocketing us back to a deserved third place. The top two teams get automatic promotion at the end of the season. Third, fourth, fifth and sixth go into the play offs, the eventual winner of a Wembley final going up to the Championship. OK. I am biased, but we deserve one of the automatic spots! And by Wednesday morning we are in better shape to get it!

So my brother is ringing about going to the game (did Captain America have a brother? I wonder once my brain is organising itself). And he will pick me up at around one-thirty.

The next big match – today’s game against Southend – is getting closer!

Part Two: After The Game.

We decide, on the way to the match that we will get tickets for the last match of the season: Port Vale away. Try to get them before kick-off to deny any last minute changes-of-heart. So he joins the queue for tickets and I head into the savoy Lounge. Only six games left: four at home, two away (Bradford in a week’s time and the final scheduled game at Vale).

On the big screens in the lounge Sunderland are soundly beating Norwich (3 – 0 final score) and I meet up with Andy and Cully. Former Walsall (Leeds and England) player Allan “Sniffer” Clarke had been somewhere nearby – part of a host of former players who paraded at half time. In support, among other things of the Team Margot Foundation, an organisation which campaigns to encourage people to register as bone marrow donors. Margot? A fourteen month old child who died needing just that, having a rare form of leukaemia. In the midst of the fury and intensity of a football match we need reminding, sometimes about real priorities. If you want more details try http://www.teammargot.com

We start to organise a trip to the Bradford game then troop out to our seats. A total crowd of five thousand three hundred and some supporters here. Expectant. But no Tom Bradshaw in the team, not even on the bench. We won without him on Tuesday – and a rest will probably do him a power of good.

From the start we are the superior team. Southend put up a good resistance, but we break through, break them down, put them under pressure. Chance after chance comes our way: we work the spaces, work the passes, alternate. Get shots in: from long range and close in. Their goalkeeper,  Bentley, wearing road-mender orange shirt and shorts did well to save from Sam Mantom, Sawyers, Forde and Demetriou in fast, early exchanges.  And, as usual we are looking good, but, frustratingly,  manage not to score. To their credit this is due to good defending from the visitors – and a little luck along the way.

I am, frankly happy not to be losing: over the seasons I have been to too many games where we over commit going forwards and give away a sloppy goal.

Second half and the frustration begins to show. Hiwula up front Is running well, Rico Henry, playing left back looks a little ragged, Sam Mantom not quite as decisive. But it is noticeable that we are playing further forwards. Sawyers tries his clever tricks and flicks (that have him nominated as one of the League One players of the Season apparently). To no avail. The crowd start to get restless. The minutes are ticking away. Sixty, seventy …

We are winning corners, free kicks, but Southend are stubborn. Southend make the breakaway and have the ball in our net, but the referee disallows it for off-side. Phew!

With two minutes left – and people around me thinking it would end up a goalless draw Forde takes a corner, the ball is clipped into the box and …

Walsall players raise their arms: the ball crossed the line! Didn’t it? There is a moment’s pause. The assistant referee had his flag up immediately. He must have seen it, mustn’t he? What did I see, a Southend defender bending and heading the ball out for the corner. The rush to take the corner. Kieron Morris strutting into the box, Hiwula looking busy centre goal. I was watching for Pennington who had made some useful dead ball runs. The ball coming over. A scramble – all goals don’t have to be tidy, remember – and the ball coming back off the underside of the crossbar. Players turning immediately away, celebrating … because …

After a nervous moment or two – and the assistant referee still signalling for a goal the ref blows his whistle, signals a Saddlers goal and the noise is both wonderful and a relief. Relief! Some fans scramble excitedly onto the field. Then vanish p.d.q. Was it Hiwula who got that final touch? Nobody seems absolutely sure. But we have to hold on for an extra five minutes additional time. A few seconds before we, in the crowd, were wishing for more time to score. Now it is exactly the opposite!

We do hang on; play smart, keep the ball. True, goalkeeper Etheridge has been in fine form all game keeps out a determined last few minutes of raids – and …

Second placed Burton have only managed a draw. We are in third place, but now – if we win our game in hand – will go above them: equal on points, better goal difference. And the future is in our own hands again.

The Swindon match on Tuesday is going to be another tense affair. But exciting tense!

Parades and Local Radio: Southend Away

Saturday 15^th August

Home.

Coincidence eh? Serendipity?

Today we are celebrating the seventieth anniversary of VJ day. In London – and I have been absorbed in watching marvellous BBC TV coverage there is a flypast (Dakota transport plane, followed by a lump-in-the-throat Hawker Hurricane followed amazingly slowly by a Typhoon Eurofighter (magical contrasting silhouettes)).

A drum head service on Horse Guards parade and a final informal celebration to be held in Dean’s Yard (where I was last weekend – and which I mistakenly named Dean’s Court – apologies to all offended). I recognised so many points of interest as the cameras followed form the rigorous ceremonial to the wonderfully friendly march/ walk out of Horse Guards, down Whitehall, past the Cenotaph, Parliament Square, the frontage of the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. Fitting too that so much is being made of Empire and Commonwealth troops and the magnificent part they played in the conflict and how much they too suffered in captivity: different cultures, different religions.

  

As British we are good at pomp and pageantry: it feels understated and ingrained and is the better for it; we have so much history after all – and should be proud of it.

But, while away that weekend I found a book I had been looking for (actually dropping big hints that it might make a good Christmas/birthday present – nothing doing): Unbroken, the story of U.S. airman Louie Zamperini who was imprisoned in Japanese POW camps. And, this weekend, the very day I finish reading it is VJ Day.

So, I missed the kick-off of the Saddlers game at faraway Southend, but checking with the radio (sometimes trite but usually good value BBC WM) at half time I find that Tom Bradshaw put us one nil up after seven minutes – and the goal horn has just sounded and Sam Mantom has got us a second.

It is quite thrilling: the new season after what seems like a long (very productive and relaxing) summer/close season. And the fact that Bradshaw is still popping the goals in. But also that we seem – as, to be fair had been promised by Ginger Mourinho (a.k.a. manager Dean Smith) – to be going forward even after going into a lead. This didn’t happen often last season. I like this attitude – a lot. It must make the games more exciting – and puts goals into the statistics in case needed for the end of the season. This is a good start!

I am still considering the service provided by this Saturday commentary/up-date tradition. It helps fans follow a team say, if money is tight, if attendance is impossible, if you are driving. Well worth it. We are not featured as the commentary game as often as I would like and I would like to know how the decisions are made as to which games/teams to prioritise.

League One this season consists of mainly Midlands teams: Walsall fans it appears have the fewest miles to drive to see every league game of the season. This is also interesting: money allowing of course.

Southend, promoted from League two at the end of last season cannot match – on the day – our efforts and we win two nil; this puts us fifth in the league (although there are – TV schedules demanding – teams with games in hand. But Bradshaw with four goals is substituted (hopefully not crocked) and Sawyers has already got two goals.

Meanwhile the sport with a different shaped ball (rugby union) is in the news: the World Cup finals will be played in England and Wales, kicking off in mid-September. The Webb-Ellis trophy meanwhile (he who introduced the whole rugby concept by – effectively – cheating during a football game) has been on public display around our nations. It is currently in Rugby where the whole thing started, allegedly back in 1832.