Dracula’s Ghost and A Posh Trip: Peterborough Away

Sunday, 20^th September, 2015

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Friday began with a day’s work in Tamworth: a fine warm day, autumnal misty roads on the journey there. But my new Android ‘phone is turned off while I am work so I missed the calls about he Peterborough game, but managed to catch a lift anyway …

Evening at the Garrick Theatre in Lichfield: Dracula’s Ghost (the Don’t Go Into the Cellar Theatre Company’s original work) had two actors playing a variety of roles (costumes and accents) which linked the death of Bram Stoker to a host of characters, real and imagined (Sherlock Holmes, Irene Adler, Jack the Ripper, Dr Moreau, Dorian Gray included). Particularly good I imagine if you could catch all of the allusions; though I did wonder what the no-more than thirteen year old lad with his mother made of it all.

Saturday morning, thinking about getting to Rugeley on time I was interrupted by a ‘phone call offering free horse muck at the allotment. Not able to resist so was a little late making the rendezvous (I needed a decent wash after all didn’t I?).

But a good steady drive; humour, exchange of information, opinion and discussion on a second fine autumn day: Pompeii, the rules of rugby (England beat Fiji and, in some way I do not understand yet, got bonus points for … well something or other), ticket prices at Posh (“it’ll cost me more to get into the Peterborough Walsall game than it will to watch Chelsea on Wednesday evening!”), allergies, careers, further education salaries … the miles pass by and we park opposite the one-time London Road (now the ABAX) stadium in the car park (for a fiver) of the Peacock pub. Couple of beers each in a friendly atmosphere. There is a mixture of fans in the bar and outside, all ages and everybody smiling and getting on well. Most of the Walsall crowd are resplendent in the new away kit (getting used to the rather smart white and blue shirts now) and a boy no higher than my hips is trying to hit the dartboard as part of a game. Good to see and the two lagers help to cool the throat.

   

But once in the ground there are only Balti pies and I decide to go hungry.

The stadium looks good in a temporary modern kind of way. But the seats in the stand where we come to rest are genuine antiques: hinged wooden seats shaved to contour your bum and wooden back rests screwed to the rusting iron framework which has been concreted – more than once by the look of it – into the ground. Amazingly they are both roomy and comfortable in a way plastic copies are not – or is that just wishful thinking?

It is inevitable of course that the club will put their efforts into making home fans comfortable first – we smile, we have of course seen both better and worse than this but then … as we settle down the back section of the chair in front of the driver breaks off and he suddenly has enviable leg-room.

While we sit high up under the roof the game, in bright sunlight is at best mediocre, passing and possession pretty equal if a little uninspired. We are not sure why Milan Lalkovic isn’t starting, what role the up-to-now-improving Flanagan is taking on and why, oh why the exciting Kieron Morris is still not in the starting line-up. Reece Flanagan in this game seems to be once again – going for a more complicated pass than is needed. Andy Taylor and Rico Henry are spreading the paly well, but most of our wing play is via Demetriou who is so far forward he is in and out of the Posh penalty area.

Romaine Sawyers is another payer getting better (perhaps until I publish this, but hopefully not) by the game. I am impressed that he is now more committed to chasing back, harrying and winning the ball – something I have criticised him for in the not too distant past. Sam Mantom too is influential. And by half time, while not impressed at least we are not losing – and Peterborough look to be there for the taking. We drink a coffee in the shade; stand up to ease the cramp in our legs – the seats not so comfortable then.

Second half begins with the same, but bursts into drama as Rico henry – typically energetic and busy-busy-busy distracts the defence when sawyers takes a pass and opts to cut inside. As the defence parts he hammers the ball solidly into the net, defying the goalkeeper’s stretching fngers on the way. A fine goal, well deserved on his performance too. Then during a break in play when players “take on water/energy drinks/refreshment” Peterborough’s Jermaine Anderson, in a seeming fit of anger hurls the water bottle at either the assistant referee or at the crowd (his own fans). While it may have been a rush of blood moment there is no doubt in my mind it was no accident (as will be claimed in his defence later). But the result is a prolonged discussion between the fourth official and the referee who shows the nineteen year old the red card. He is amazed and seeks support from both Peterborough and Walsall players. But I can count on the fingers of a snail how many times a rfereee has changed his mind once a decision is made and – eventually he leaves the pitch.

   

“Where’s your water gone?” is the gleeful chant of the Saddlers Choir to something like the tune of Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep’s “Where’s Your Momma Gone?”

Neil Etheridge, whose skills, bravery and commitment perhaps kept us in the game during the first half is developing into a fine keeper. Once he has made a decision he will stick to it, he is agile, has that courage/craziness that defines goalkeepers and works well with the defence, who are pushing forward to get a second goal. But Peterborough, now a man down are pumping long balls up past our defenders.

Tom Bradshaw (“suffering a slight groin strain”) is taken off, Jordan Cook comes on – and we appear to go to a four defender line up. To be caught out as Posh forward Bostwick falls over Etheridge when both are challenging for the ball and the referee goes for the easy way out after maybe re-thinking sending Anderson off opts for a penalty. Me? Not sure but definitely no criticism of Etheridge – even if he doesn’t save the spot kick. We head towards the exits, close enough to feel the smack as a last second powerhouse shot from Sam Mantom rattles the Peterborough crossbar.

Radio puts us second in the league table, with promoted this season Burton Albion top.

Great chat on the way back about whether to risk Bradshaw – if he’s injured – at all in the Wednesday game against Chelsea…

… and the first episode of the new series of Dr Who (who made Davros?)

 

 

 

Crawley Away.

The conversation at the Crewe game went something like this;

“Fancy going to Crawley? … Tuesday?”

“Maybe … you?”

“Can you get to Rugeley for three ?”

“Sorry, no chance … go without me.”

“But, if you’re working in Tamworth, we could pick you up later … on the way ?”

“I’m not working in Tamworth on Tuesday …”

Sunday with my brother spent cutting mom’s hedge. In readiness for the traditional family bonfire. Clearing the space in the garden for the pile (never built until the morning in order to prevent hedgehogs being burned because they nested in the stack).

Monday morning came around – the news that Lynda Bellingham a popular TV actor is dead. She took the brave and dignified decision to stop having chemotherapy treatment for cancer so that she could be well enough to spend a last Christmas with her family. Sadly she didn’t make it.

 

 

Monday morning came around and, suddenly, unexpectedly, I was going to be in Tamworth on Tuesday. On the ‘phone …but – quite rightly others had made the decision, following the debacle on Saturday that it was a three hundred and sixty miles too far.

And the media coverage goes on, becoming parrot-like. Quotes from Dean Smith about how well the team played (essentially correct), how hard the players work (mostly), how gutted they are not to have points at the end of the games “we should have won/should not have lost.” And the one that sticks in my throat that goes something like :

“We had all the possession, played the most attractive football, built up moves from the back to the front, controlled the mid-field … but just don’t seem to be able to put the ball in the net.”

Now I can understand the argument that this is a manager keeping faith with his team, protecting them from harsh criticism and creating a positive atmosphere in the camp. It’s the way to settle players down and the way to attract quality players to Walsall (“the gaffer’s good, he’ll look after you”). But there needs to be a limit. What? Four wins this calendar year? Got to be reaching that tolerance barrier soon. Surely?

And so we have the news this week – when we are so blatantly in need of a tried and tested goal scorer – that we have Michael Cain, a twenty year old attacking midfielder on loan from Leicester City. Sorry? A striker? A goal scorer, out and out ?

No you read it right: an attacking midfielder.

Just when you’re thinking there’s no room for another mid-fielder, that you can’t move at Bescot for midfielders – we get another one in. For a month.

Let’s see what happens – without holding our breaths please.

Meanwhile, apropos Linda Bellingham:  Wilko Johnson (one time Dr Feelgood guitarist, given ten months to live, having recorded a sharp record with Roger Daltrey, and toured off the back of it has been given the all-clear … and a local teacher I was talking with said his niece has also been given the all-clear, following treatment for leukaemia at Birmingham Children’s Hospital.

Big storms in the midlands; the outer edge of Hurricane Gonzalo (wasn’t he one of the Muppets?) we are told have been circulating: a hurricane in Burton on Trent and the roof of a six garage complex blown – in one piece across the road in Merry Hill. Poor weather for the trip to Crawley.

Catching up with the scores on Radio WM while watching Dr Brain Cox’s The Human Universe. His postulation that there must be other intelligent life forms out somewhere in the universe (if not our own Milky Way) was well argued and had me thinking:

“yes and in one of them, Walsall must, by the very odds, be an extremely successful team.”

Meanwhile on this planet, the result and report were achingly familiar. Walsall played well, had umpteen chances to score, netted none of them and lost to a goal – against the run of play – two minutes from the final whistle.

So now we are firmly settled in the relegation zone, having lost valuable points and morale, against two of our fellow strugglers. This really is not what I expected and talk of the play off places being only a few games away is sounding more and more hollow by the repetition.

 

Totally Unexpected … Brazil v Germany, World Cup Semi-Final.

So I finish this day in Tamworth a little later than expected; but doesn’t worry me too much. I am still confident I will be at home in front of the TV in time for the Brazil v. Germany World Cup semi-final game. At this point, not being addicted to the World Cup matches I freely confess I thought it started at 5 p.m. English time. But the road was busier than I had expected. Sod’s law. The traffic lights all against me. The queues always in my lane.

Still, I told myself, no need to panic. Imagined that, without Neymar (broken vertebrae in the last game in one of the last rough-house challenges in a whole series of lunges, assaults, dives and pantomime injuries) and Tiago Silva (suspended after second yellow card) the game would be well in progress. In my fantasy Germany would score first, then be inexorably reeled in and Brazil to score the much-deserved winner somewhere around eighty minutes.

Got back at 5.15. No football on TV. Checked the TV schedules: ahem… …  nine o’clock start.

Time to watch highlights of the Tour de France, take a ‘phone call from my mother, talk about the impending holiday in Cornwall, discover that Walsall have signed up Jordan Cook (said to be a striker) and have a couple of Spanish players on trial and get a beer, incidentally and very neatly avoiding having to listen to the whole overblown chitter-chatter of the pundits before the actual kick off.

Then it all started to happen!

Brazil, frankly, despite massive support from the crowd, unbelievably totally blew it.

Wrong tactics, wrong personnel, overly emotional, overly hyped …

Or simple facing a superior team that played with efficiency, style and real purpose. Making holes in the Brazilian defence and whatever they tried to pass off as a midfield German players also showed silky skills and deft touches.

Some bluster and attempts to intimidate from a lacklustre David Luis – skipper for the night – and a ridiculous dive by Marcelo seeking a penalty were sad glimpses in the early moments.

As eleven minutes clicked up, super approach play and Miroslav Klose stuck Germany in the lead. Then a German avalanche engulfed the Brazilians who looked punch-drunk and vulnerable.

 

More goals, inevitably followed in what was described accurately at one point by commentator Martin Keown as a “testimonial game”.

By half time the Brazilians were out of it completely. Five nil down. The crowd quietened and broken spirited. Pictures of fans openly weeping filled the TV screen.

Eventual result: Seven one; the Brazilian fans reduced to booing on-the-giant-screen pictures of the players substituted. Didn’t like that: poor attitude. Remind me of that comment if I ever, publicly veer away from proper support of my own team and act so disrespectfully. Maybe “everybody has a bad day at the office” doesn’t begin to cover the vast abyss between teams out there, the often gross ineptitude of usually world-class players but I find that unacceptable. Cheering the opposition? Nothing wrong there. Criticism of your own team? Fine in private or when constructive. but Boo-ing yer own?

 

(There was a time, back in the day, when I became disenchanted with what I was seeing at Walsall. Tommy Coakley was manager at the time: a little more than out of his depth I guess looking back), but I simply stopped going. Bought a mountain bike and stayed away.)

Happily things have moved on at the Saddlers –as they always will. Brazil will now have a time of introspection – as a team and as a country. Doubtless we will now hear more of the protestors who criticised their government for staging the finals (feeling there were more urgent priorities, like health, poverty and education). But the players and manager will have to “cowboy up” to participate in the third/fourth place play-off game and this may be a time to salvage some pride.

So, all of my “tips” (“England,” said my heart;  “Italy,”  suggested the library sweepstake and “Brazil!” calculated my logical (?) brain) are out of contention. But the football has been compelling in these knock-out stages.

Coventry ? Away?

5^th March, 2014

I’m standing by my allotment shed discussing allotment politics when my mobile phone blurts out its text-received beep-beep. “That’ll be Cully,” I think, “he’s getting back to me about going to the match tonight …”

Wrong! It’s my wife, letting me know she’s “going to Deb’s for  a coffee …”

I am, a little harshly I realise, jolted to think of our daughter’s observation about the facile nature of some social networking comments of the “feeling happy/eating a biscuit” variety. Largely pointless, except perhaps to reassure the individual “adding the comment that they have a value because they have posted something in the Ethernet. And the inevitable sadness that value is based on putting something out there that has very little real value. Like a blog? Like a self-published book ? More on that perhaps later.

I get a little stick about going to the game tonight. It’s not easy being a Walsall supporter. But then it never has been.

Eventually Cully rings. He can’t make it. Working in Solihull until, er probably 6.30. Ironically for a Coventry supporter. But this “supporter isn’t going either. And that’s another digression. Coventry City. Once one of the most successful teams in this part of the world are fallen a long way from grace these days. They were docked points at the beginning of this season for “financial irregularities last season (basically signing and playing players they could not afford: cheating perhaps by another, better dressed name), they no longer play in Coventry, but ground share with lowly (even compared with Walsall F.C.) Northampton Town. The mighty (and I’ve been there for a Bruce Springstein concert) Ricoh Arena management asked for more rent and Coventry couldn’t (or wouldn’t) pay. For a while it was like a poker game, maybe it was  a bluff… but no. So Sky Blues home games (!) are no longer played in Coventry. “Exiled,” as Express and Star reporter Matt Maher has it, going on to say in this evening’s sports pages:

“ This isn’t the place to delve into the hows and whys of Coventry’s current plight, a classic modern football tale of moneymen putting their own self-interests ahead of a club’s well-being and where – as always – the biggest losers are the fans.”

So – just me and my brother then, tickets already purchased.

When I get to his house he’s on a call. He works for a massive multi-national company, usually from home and this happens a lot. At least I believe it does. I am sure he could tell me more but he would have to kill me.

We plan the route on the fly, avoiding what BBC Radio WM says is the M6 closed because of a serious accident and get to the “compact” Sixfields (is it a stadium (as per traditional football scuttlebutt) or Sixfields Leisure as the local, rather poor signs state?

Car parking is very close and at £4 quite reasonable. The ground is actually part of an out-of-town shopping and entertainments estate: there’s a multi-screen cinema, several universal supermarkets, a couple of U.S franchised eating places and, let’s say the other kind of places that you find in every out-of-town territory.

The youngsters selling the programmes, when asked confidently state that they are working for a company that works with the Cobblers (Northampton Town) and quite happily show us to the “away” supporter’s entrance. Seems to me, I am thinking, we are all away supporters in this game. And we probably followed each other down the M6/M1 route … and are probably
parking side by side here. Behind the goals and once ensconced in the ground, having been told by  a hi-viz vested official that you can “sit where you want” we look at the illuminations of the logos and signs from the outlets on the hill opposite. The hill on which allegedly a determined group of Coventry City supporters gather to watch a fraction of the pitch when Coventry play. It’s their version of a protest. They will not pay to go in, thus giving money to the owners because they want their team back in their city. But tonight ? Too dark to see if anyone is there or not. The seats are closely arranged, the one immediately behind me being taken by a tall guy and his knees, quite accidentally are in my shoulder blades for most of the first half … and when I’m catching up with the programme and the paper at half time I am unintentionally invading the space of the lady in front of me. Shame the seats are not off-set. Before kick-off we buy food – a generous hot dog, artistically patterned with mustard and coffee. The range of pies on offer includes steak and ale. The programme incidentally is a fine one: there are ten pages with Walsall information and it is a glossy high quality read. It is called PUSB but there is no explanation: an acronym something, something Sky Blues maybe.

The Guy on the public address is overly enthusiastic for such a small crowd: almost American and the gimmick of presenting ten footballs to the crowd during half time, which, somebody  near me suggests cruelly, means every Coventry fan gets a ball (such is Saddlers humour). I wonder whether it could be organised for all ten balls to be thrown onto the pitch during the second when play is over that side (such is my divergent thinking).

Apart from the chap with “Steward” on his hi-viz back, there are other staff. In their bright vests and for some reason I cannot quite explain they remind me of Lego characters. There’s one marked “Perimeter”, another a long-legged, black trousered blonde with “Stand Manager”. Mr Perimeter is chatting amicably with a Walsall fan and, it seems encouraging him to be standing. The P.A. reminds us that this is a no-smoking, all-seated venue and politely invites us to take our seats. Mr Perimeter and this animated fan continue to swap chatter.

 

Cannot remember the last time I was in a ground that has floodlights at each corner (like here): the old traditional arrangement. The quality of light on the pitch is noticeably unequal. Beyond the lights the new moon, bringing my grandfather to mind as always, is veiled by light cloud.

The first half is poor from our point of view. We are penned back by an efficient Coventry team and seem short of ideas and energy, a lot of passing, which we normally do so well, goes wrong. Refereeing decisions are, at best eccentric and – unsurprisingly become the butt of Walsall chanting. (Our “choir” is always inventive and usually topical). This evening we have the

“If you’ve paid your rent, stand up

If you’ve paid your rent stand up” among others.

We go in at half time a goal down.

But come out faster, slicker more aggressive.

There are no ball boys; at one stage a well wrapped up photographer has to hurdle wall and ranks of seats to retrieve the ball (no spectators in this stand). No ball boys Is that because tis is an evening kick off and they have school tomorrow, or because local kids will ball boy for Northampton, but not Coventry? Note to self: check at other evening games to see if there are ball boys.

Players who had  a quiet first half (Febian Brandy, Milan Lalkovic) are in the thick of the action more and more often and we go on the hunt, putting pressure on the Coventry defence. Which is sound. Mal Benning, our young full back came towards us on a steaming run, had a shot saved and put the rebound into the net.

We were on top and significantly so. Pushing up. But a couple of the team started to look tired. Lalkovic – on a season long loan from Chelsea, Craig Westcarr … and we’re missing Sam Mantom, suspended after being sent off against Preston on Saturday.

Couple of substitutions. Ngoo (on loan from Liverpool) a young, tall aggressively confident “giraffe” of a player coming on for Craig Westcarr and Troy Hewitt for Lalkovic.

But while we were pushing forward, wouldn’t you know it ? They crept up and scored the winner.

We kept on hammering away and there was a tremendous volley of shots one after the other in the final minutes. The sound of the boot hitting the ball carrying the short distance amazing. But, frankly well organised defending and luck meant we were going home 2- 1 losers. James Chambers has been sterling throughout, looking unruffled and fit, elegant yet determined.

M6 closed on the way home, so a lengthy diversion down the dependable A5, including a second diversion down the old A5.  The road we were taught at school built by the Romans; straight, efficient. My old route to work. The motorbike shop is still there, so is the Vauxhall garage; the one where, when I couldn’t pay for a routine service I was vouched for by the receptionist (who had been the “tea monitor” at a school nearby where I worked and could remember me (also perhaps that I rarely had money to pay my weekly tea fees!)

Tamworth was also once one of the most significant towns in England: capital of Mercia. We wondered how many people now learn about this. And talk drifted on to the rights and wrongs – as we see them – of Scottish independence (and what might happen to the Scottish Nationalist Party, a vote against Scottish independence would take away the key plank of SNP ambition of course … so what future ?), the events in the Ukraine (feted by our media as a “sovereign state” (what? I am thinking, they have no sovereign …) apparently invaded by Russia. The truth may be somewhat different, but I have two thoughts on the matter.

First: if all of the Spanish-speaking people in say, Texas made a fuss and expressed a wish to join Mexico (unlikely but bear with me eh?) what would Barak Obama’s reaction be? Probably to send troops in. Now I realise the situation is not exactly the same but it is worth thinking on. The uprising in Kiev deposed what, when all is said and done and whatever we feel about the situation, was a democratically elected government. So, to this way of thinking we in the west are supporting an undemocratic regime.

Secondly: I believe that Germany was able to “annexe” Sudatenland (then part of Czechoslovakia) because Hitler “proved” most of the subjects there were, essentially Germans, German speaking for example …

OK two opposite cases and each equally provocative …

We decide that the outcome is likely to be an annexation of the Crimean peninsular (strategically important to Russia) and a reduced Ukraine being adopted swiftly by the EU. We cannot afford to “annoy” Russia as they are the source of a lot of our oil (and so power) … and we seem to be back in the realms of the moneymen running things and the ordinary people getting hurt (or, indeed, killed).

Bring on Saturday, the Wolves and the sell-out crowd.