Weary World Cup Woes - and New Season Blues?

FIFA World Cup 2026:
various fixtures and dates, June-July

AND

Isthmian Premier League:
Enfield Town vs. Whitehawk.
Saturday 29th August 2026, 3pm kick-off

From The Sublime to The Ridiculous?

Have you missed me?
And, more importantly, have you been missing your football. Have YOU been along to watch YOUR team play yet, this fine new football season? And no, I don’t mean on TV. You know that doesn’t count! For some, the early season fixtures are difficult to accommodate in a busy diary. Perhaps due to family holidays, weddings, etc. For others (e.g. ex-pats and the infirm) the chance to attend a game in person arrives rarely. And takes on mythic proportions and importance, when it does so. Rather like The Holy Grail. Perhaps there have also been more distractions than usual, in a summer when football hardly seems to have taken a break at all. Thanks to Gianni Python’s ever-expanding Flying Circus. Did you, like me, run a 104-match marathon, ending in agony and frustration, hitting The Wall? 

Argentina's Enzo Fernández (right) "welcomes" England's Elliot Anderson to the game, early in their semi-final clash. Memorably, he goes unpunished.

Despite being neither away on holiday nor an infirm ex-pat, The Pharaoh still gave up his first chance to watch Fulham play, last Thursday, in the Carabao Cup. For rather more prosaic reasons. Such a game might be considered merely a meaningless distraction in a tin-pot tournament, say in the eyes of fans whose clubs exit early (deliberately?). Or, by contrast, one of the sport’s few remaining fine traditions, that’s well worth maintaining - according to fans of sides who progress to the latter stages. I’ll hold fire on my own “Judgment of Paris” until the result of FFC’s game in the next round is in. It's scheduled to be against a struggling Championship side, who play at the quaintly-named (and suddenly over-sized?) ‘London Stadium’.  Bless!

For the record, a much-changed Fulham XI comfortably despatched tier 3 opposition on Thursday. I chose to reserve my energies for a non-football-related early start, the following day. Going to see England take on a deeply sub-par Pakistan side, on Day 2 of the Lords test match. Luckily, there was barely a rain interruption of note. Although other interruptions were expected - and encountered...

The Pharaoh (centre) with Lords regulars; college buddies Jez (l) & James (r). Root-ing for England.

Anyway, back to the football. The following photo shows Carabao siblings. Twins, in fact. Like Schwarzenegger and De Vito: The Sessegnons. Ryan, left, who plays as left wingback for Fulham; while Steven (also formerly of Fulham) plays as, errmm, left wingback for Wimbledon. Did I mention they’re near-identical twins? Sadly for Steven, there could be only one winner, on the night. Next up, 'Ammers away!

Despite passing up my first Craven Cottage opportunity, The Pharaoh HAS now (finally) managed to catch newly-relegated Enfield Town F.C. in the flesh. In one of their early-season games. Although it was still only August, this was already to be the Towners 3^rd home fixture, and their 5^th in total, so far. It was an unplanned and impromptu visit to Donkey Lane. Nudged by a forecast of windy, rainy conditions and weak opposition; which I suspected might result in a storm of goals. I am thus able to bring you details of all that action soon.

It would seem remiss, however, in this year of a World Cup summer, NOT to regale you first with tales of my mammoth, marathon, 5-week road-trip to and through sunny California. Cordially invited by a generous host, my L.A.-based, former college buddy, Peter, I decided (at my ripe old age) that I should probably grab the chance, while I still could. And before his long-suffering wife, Jenna, had the chance (and the foresight) to withdraw my invitation. There was always the lurking, residual possibility that the U.S. Immigration Force would consider me a threat to Homeland Security. Or something.

The pharaoh, suitably attired and relaxed, reminding you what tournament was taking place this summer, across Canada, Mexico, and the U.S. of A.

This was a trip that had been c. 4 long years in the planning. It would eventually include a short trip north, to visit funky San Francisco and Napa Valley's vineyards. But first, it would focus on whatever World Cup games Gianni Infantino and the ticket touts/scalpers left (relatively) affordable for us mere mortals. I will skip most of the varied cultural trip details, to focus on the football. It was, after all, The Pharaoh's quadrennial opportunity to guide you around some of football's Global "Ziggurat", rather than solely our usual, domestic, English football "Pyramid".

Peter and his very close, local, even longer-standing buddy, George, had been confident all along that they'd be able to access plenty of match tickets, via a local draw / allocation. In the end, they received absolutely none, of course. LOL!

The Pharaoh (left) with host, Peter, on our boys' trip North. Suitably refreshed, at Napa Valley's beautiful and exclusive Brion vineyard.

I was also UNlucky enough to find that the seeded tournament draw had meant England’s games would be confined to the East of the U.S.A. – plus Mexico City. Scotland’s matches would be similarly distant. And the USA’s host status instead saw them seeded in the group that would be centred on the West Coast venues.

I arrived at LAX on 10^th June and stayed/survived in California until 13^th July. In the meantime taking in two (hideously expensive!) World Cup matches, live, at L.A.’s spectacular So-Fi stadium. Plus pretty much all the tournament's other fixtures, live on T.V. – in the “correct” time zone. No staying up until 4am for me! Oh, and a baseball game.

Peter was in the process of completing a significant expansion to the family home. Work gangs populated the grounds and patio, plus large parts of the house, at times. It'll be an (even MORE) amazing home, when everything is (eventually) completed.

The two matches we got to see “live”, as neutrals, were: Iran versus New Zealand, in the Group stage; plus Canada versus South Africa, the first Group of 32 knock-out game. Ticket costs were c. $500 and c. $600 respectively. Although, to be fair, these were far from being the cheapest (“Nose-Bleed”) seats in the house. I baulked at the cost, and only went along to these TWO games because my host saw them as Once-in-a-Lifetime Opportunities. Twice! You can judge the excellent sightlines for yourself, in the images shared below.

The US$ vs. GB£ exchange rate during my trip, incidentally, (and for the analysts amongst us) was c. 4:3 – or 1.33 dollars to the pound. Which made £ST costs relatively easy to calculate. The last time I’d been in So-Cal was 18 years earlier; when the exchange rate had been running at more than TWO dollars to the pound. Then, I’d been able to spend cash like a dying man. Less so, this time around.

LA's spectacular and futuristic So-Fi stadium, under glowering skies.

Just don't ask about the exorbitant car parking charges and political graft.

A lot of pre-tournament chatter had been about the egregious cost of match tickets, transport, etc. Of how “real” fans were being priced out by a FIFA cash-grab. And that was largely true, of course. Yet a lot of Real Fans just sucked it up and shelled out huge funds on acquiring tickets. There was even a story (apocryphal, I hope!) of one Scotland fan selling his house to fund his trip – and to help drink Heathrow and Boston dry. So one could argue that the fund-raising side of FIFA had pitched the pricing formula “optimally”. In truth, we were lucky to spend so “little” on our seats.

California has some deep pockets. And large pockets of ex-pats from many of the world’s nations. So there was high demand for EVERY game to an extent that surprised the hell out of me. U.S. fans seemed prepared to shell out ANY amount of money to watch their side. Treating every game as though it had the entertainment value and prestige of The Super Bowl, contrary to all empirical evidence.

Even the NZ game, for instance, was over-subscribed. Because so many “Persians” wanted to attend the match. Schizophrenically hoping to demonstrate against the country’s ruling regime AND support their players. They massively outnumbered the Kiwi fans present. We got something of a last-minute “steal”, as the bottom (comparatively) finally fell out of that over-inflated market. But that made gaining entry to the stadium officially "difficult". While the atmosphere at the game was “odd”, to say the least.

We finally got into the stadium late. Long story, but largely as a result of FIFA’s complex and poorly conceived re-selling process. All roads lead to Geneva! Their portal not embedding smoothly and well with established resale sites (Stub Hub, etc.). All transfers had to go through FIFA, of course. But they couldn’t seem to handle the volume of trades with accuracy.

Peter was convinced we’d already missed several goals, by the time we took our seats. In fact, we’d only missed the opening goal, scored by New Zealand. The Iranian fans, however, reached loud, high-pitched, and excited (errmm) Fever Pitch, pretty much every time their side had the ball. So it had seemed like the scoreline might have been 5-0, by the time we got in and took our seats. It ended up being a surprisingly entertaining 2-2 draw, played out between two poor sides. Neither of whom seemed likely to trouble the tournament's later stages. Not least with all the additional (political) local obstacles placed in the way of the Iranians participation.

A match view from So-Fi's medium-priced seats.

Draught Beer inside the stadium, incidentally, cost the equivalent of a down-payment on a small, terraced house in Teesside (at c. £18 per pint). After which shocking realisation, and steep ascent to my seat, I needed defibrillation. Although I guess FIFA were working on the basis that, if you’d happily(?) paid upwards of $1,000 for a seat, you might be expected to pay just about ANYTHING for a beer, once you realised how far away from the pitch your seat was. Nobody seemed to be stopping the street traders from selling their food and drinks outside the stadium, however, as I hear was reported elsewhere. But people were mostly more intent on just getting into the stadium and to their seats, ASAP. I didn't explore the cost of food inside the stadium. We’d wisely filled our boots at Woody’s famous smoked rib house, in the mean streets of Inglewood. A district I probably wouldn’t venture anywhere near at night.

 
Left: "Slap-up" pre-match nosh at no-frills Woody's. HIGHLY recommended. Just don't ask how I avoided getting any sauce or debris on my pristine shirt.
Right: a typical patio "watch party"; rooting for England. Beastly cold "Pines" West Coast IPA, from Peter's kegerator. Enjoyed here with Jeff and George. 

Those £18 ($24) pints of beer: good for preventing nose-bleeds - which was just as well!

Later in the tournament, Canada and S. Korea did us a favour. How? By failing to the top their respective groups (with Korea, in fact, unexpectedly exiting at the Group stage). Meaning that they were displaced from their seeded locations and many pre-tournament ticket purchasers now found themselves with seats for the wrong games, in the wrong cities. Our $600 tickets had been selling at more than TWICE that price, just the day before the game. But, eventually, enough S. Korea fans decided to cut their losses and ditch their tickets. I still baulked at the cost; but” whad-are-ya-gonna-do?”. Again, the crowd and atmosphere was officially “ODD”. As we found ourselves amidst a melange of fans from almost ALL over the world. Mostly from S. Korea, Mexico, U.S.A., Canada and South Africa – in declining order of numbers present. There was little on the pitch for anybody to celebrate, alas.

ARE YOU READY? Pre-match razz-a-matazz, U.S. showbiz-style;
visible from Mars. "Couldn't you get flags and Jumbotrons any bigger?"

The result didn't match the pre-game build-up. A poor 1-0 win, ground out by a marginally superior Canada side, against a surprisingly lack-lustre S. Africa team. The latter seemed strangely intent on playing for a 0-0 draw, Extra-Time, and penalties. Something they were singularly incapable of doing, anyway. Although they did rather spoil the spectacle and the experience for most of the c. 72,000 present, on their self-imposed exit route, out of the tournament.

Half-time razz-a-matazz, as the LA Rams cheerleaders prepare to put on a show. The Pharaoh ensured you would enjoy a front row view - naturally.

The South Africans will have made few friends, with their unapologetic time-wasting and refusal to come out of their own half any more than was strictly necessary. They belatedly realised that this WOULD be necessary, only after going behind to a marginally better side, late on. The tail-end of the game was vastly superior, as a result. If only S. Africa had played like that for NINETY minutes (instead of 19) they might well have progressed to the next stage. Poor tactics and game management, and a wasted opportunity. Although I guess it must have seemed to them like a wise approach, on paper, before the game.

The Pharaoh (right) with Peter, again; my buddy of over 40 years standing.
As you can see, we WERE still standing. "Literally!"

I found myself watching many of the televised games in the company of a wide variety of new friends. I saw the tournament’s first match (Mexico vs. S. Africa) for instance, on a large outdoor screen on Peter’s unfinished patio, with an excitable Mexican commentary. Sitting alongside the Mexican work gangs who had downed tools for the duration. I was something of a curiosity to them, in my Fulham FC shirt (c. 2002 vintage – see above, think Steed Malbranque, Brian McBride, Andy Cole, Lee Clark, Luís Boa Morte, et al). Until I made the obvious connection for them with Mexico’s #9 and penalty King, Raul Jimenez. Who’s been playing at The Cottage for the past couple of seasons. After which I became an honorary Mexican, regardless of my loud and shame-faced insistence that I “No hablo Español!”

Sadly, I didn’t watch the England-Mexico game with them due to the early evening kick-off timing. But we had good chats about it afterwards. It being one of the most exciting of the tournament, etc. A Walking Football buddy had contacted me during my trip, encouraging me to join him in Mexico City's Azteca stadium. But I’d already blown my budget to smithereens, by that point. Rob assures me he had a blast in the rain, as he partied with the locals and waited for the storm-delayed kick-off.

I wore my England shirt (see above, c. 2006 vintage – think Lampard and Gerrard, and that infamous not-a-goal) for the first of the live games I attended. And for many of the televised games (again, see above) - plus the baseball match. As well as in the street, bars, stores, and on the beach. It broke the “ice” and drew nothing but positive reactions. Some locals even realised and observed that I was on "the wrong coast". When England weren’t playing, I'd wear one of many club shirts to watch the other nations. Including my old “Mark Kirby”, Enfield Town F.C. fat man special.

MLB action: Anaheim hosting Baltimore. A dour home defeat to open the series.

After the Q-F stage, I reluctantly flew home. To confidently prepare myself for a France-England final. But you don’t want to hear the gory details of what happened next – do you?  Again? (See opening image - Ouch!)Water under the bridge, Old Boy! Don't risk reopening old wounds, and all that!

One final brief aside does arise, however. As I contemplate the presence of The Democratic Republic of the Congo in the finals. For the first time in decades! DR Congo (or Doctor Congo, as I now call them - 🎝“You put de lime in de coconut and mix it all up…”🎝) is a country where I once spent a few happy (if sometimes unduly "exciting") months, when I wore a younger man’s clothes - and worked on a world famous beer brand.

The Young Pharaoh, "In Country", during Italia '90.

... and ready to come on at half-time.

It was called Zaire, then. I went there (and to Rwanda and Burundi, next door) working on recent product launch projects, during the Italia ’90 World Cup finals. Watching most of the games on TV, and extensively playing table football with a Dutch buddy (a whole other long story, all of its own) in bars and drinking dens across central Africa. I believe I was the only man in the whole region wearing an England shirt. And certainly the only one cartwheeling around a hotel bar, when Platt scored his late winner, against the colonial Mother country. But I digress. Again! Albeit nostalgically, this time.

On Saturday, those expected windy, rainy conditions produced a flurry of (home) goals against lowly visitors, Whitehawk . Starting as early as the 3^rd minute. Those who enjoy the fine details might like to know that the away side wore red (not white) and there were no hawks present / visible. Whitehawk have been based in East Brighton Park, on the edge of Kemptown, since their formation in 1945, at the end of WW2. The naming of their “Enclosed Ground” home carries its own long story – for another time. They would need to dig out their tin hats once more, to face an onslaught on the road, at one of the Isthmian Premier League’s more fancied sides.

Match day team sheet: for your inner Statto / Nerd.
Notice that nobody is sporting the unfashionable #13 shirt. The cowards!

A decent attendance of 604 included a larger smattering than usual of Newcastle United shirts. Why? Because the crowd was boosted by 2x coach loads of Newcastle fans, who had stopped off en route to White Hart Lane for the evening’s EPL fixture against Spurs. They had been specifically invited to attend. Cannily offered free entry, in return for spending their Toon Pounds in the club’s Butler’s Bar. It was widely agreed that this was better hospitality than their usual fare: 2 hours stopped in a motorway service station. Rumour has it they were provided with a police escort for their onward journey – and a translator.

Some of our very welcome, if slightly bemused, Geordie visitors enjoying refreshments at Enfield Town's revenue-generating (ahem!) "Café" [Bleu].

There was pressure and press from Billy Holland's home side, from the very start. Before long, some nice teamwork and interplay on the Enfield left paid off, resulting in a ball reaching Sam Youngs, just outside the 6-yard box. His first touch set the ball up for a volley, from c. 8 yards out. It was deflected into the ground by the flailing defender and looped high up over the stranded, back-pedalling GK. 1-0, and the first goal of many, we hoped. After which the visiting GK’s behaviour became erratic and frequently “what I call” unsportsman-like. Deliberately running into opposition players with the ball out of play, and various other shenanigans, did NOT endear him greatly to the vocal home fans behind his goal. Who duly spent the match cheerily reminding him that the deteriorating scoreline was “all his fault”. How we larrffed!

Enfield Town players (in white) celebrate that all-important, early opening goal.

Just a few minutes later, a ball was won “robustly” by Town’s #15, Declan Rydings, from an overly ambitious, marauding Whitehawk defender. Two swift passes forward allowed Avgoustidis to run into space and collect the ball c. 22 yards out, outpacing the central defender. He rounded the advancing GK (who dived at him, feet first - recklessly?!) leaving the latter flat on his backside. It looked for all the world like Rydings had done too much, when he jinked back inside, past the recovering right-back. But his curling, rising, right-footed effort across the goal found the top right-hand corner of the net. 2-0, with only 9 minutes gone. Home fans were licking their collective lips. This was what we’d come for!

Klevis Muca; never allowed to settle. Neither by Town's front line, nor their fans.

Despite that deficit, Whitehawk failed to heed the warning signs. In the 30^th minute, their GK and wing-backs initiated some intricate passing along the edge of their area, trying to play the ball out around Enfield’s high press. Bad idea!  A poor first touch put the left-back under pressure and his resulting attempted back-pass to the GK was as under-powered as his grey matter. A toe-in Enfield challenge pushed the ball towards Luke May-Parrott, who won a one-on-one challenge with the GK (who, had he come out more bravely, at full stretch, might have claimed the ball) rounding him for a two-yard left-footed tap in. 3-0 already! And it was starting to look clear why the visitors had only secured one point so far, from a possible twelve. They’d also picked up a couple of early yellow cards, for persistent bad (“agricultural”) fouling, within the first 25 minutes. This cooled their early enthusiasm further.

Spiritedly, however, Whitehawk did not crumble. They were, in fact, next to score. Winning a contested ball deep in Town territory, they completed a swift, sweeping move down the right, at the second attempt, as Seokjae Lee got on the end of a driven, low cross. In acres of space, untroubled by any suggestion of “marking”, he beat the over-exposed Dylan Thompson at his near post. 3-1 after 32 minutes. Game on? Not exactly.

We then entered a more stale-matey phase of play. With Town happy to absorb some pressure, while still looking threatening whenever they had the ball. It was a state of affairs that lasted through the hour mark, with plenty of profligate finishing, mostly from the home side.

The pantomime villain of the piece, however, continued in his role, to perfection. Routinely heckled from behind his goal, in the 64^th minute Whitehawk’s Klevis Muca mis-hit a routine, sweeper-keeper clearance from c. 25 yards out. Directing it into the chest of the onrushing May-Parrott. The rebound resulting from May-Parrott’s continued high press had enough momentum on it to beat the scrambling, retreating keeper across his own line. Muca ended up red-faced, tangled up at the foot of his own goal net, and signalling a need for the physio. Presumably to massage his ego and cover his blushes. Since he was soon enough back up on his feet to try and prevent the 4-1 scoreline from deteriorating any further.

Something he was, alas for Whitehawk, singularly unable to do. After several more missed chances from the hosts, May-Parrott slathered his own personal icing onto the cake by completing a hat-trick in the 88^th minute. Out-muscling and out-pacing his centre back to latch onto a perfectly-weighted through ball. 5-1, with pretty much just stoppage time to go. There would be no further scoring. Enfield (the scoring-est side in the league; and with the best GD) would find themselves sitting pretty in second, behind unbeaten Carshalton Athletic, after the season’s five games. Only ONE side will claim automatic promotion, at the end of this campaign. So strong early form could turn out to be all-important.

One final action shot beautifully summarises the day: as explained below...

Klevis Muca trudges disconsolately back towards his net to retrieve the ball yet again. Much to the amusement of Enfield's well-entertained home supporters. With not a single defender in the frame. Town's players celebrate in front of their adoring fans - again! TBH, I could have flooded this report with photos of Town's players celebrating their many goals. But what would be gained by that? And a bit of tasty floodlight "porn" adds electric atmosphere to the occasion, as a gloomy late afternoon sets in on North London. Ahead of Tottenham's gloomy late kick-off against Newcastle. Those Geordies must have enjoyed their Big Day Out.

Match highlights are available on YouTube, here

Post Script
1) Just two days later, on Bank Holiday Monday, ETFC would add a tasty 1-4 away win, at mid-table Wingate & Finchley. Meanwhile Carshalton suffered a surprise 3-2 reverse at early strugglers, Three Bridges. Resulting in the thing of beauty that is the current league table – see below. 

Click here for more (and clearer!) league details

After six games, Enfield Town are now top, on Goal Difference, as we enter a break in league action, to allow for the The Football Association Challenge Cup (more commonly known as the FA Cup) 1st Round Qualifying. Town are away at Frenford F.C. of Ilford on Saturday. At stake, a potential revenue-raising run in the oldest national football competition in the world. The hosts are a significantly more junior club, but will hope to make the most of their home advantage. I can't get along to this local tie, however, because...

2) I should also announce that I do plan to finally break my Fulham F.C. duck, this coming weekend, against Crystal Palace. Thanks to a generous season ticket lend by friend and irregular match buddy, Graham. An Old Skool gent of the very first order! A Palace fan and Walking Football buddy, John B, will be joining me (in "the wrong end"). With both sides much-changed from last season, and struggling for goals and points, the result is not an easy one to call. Fingers crossed...

All photos (except those of The Sessegnons and Fernández with Anderson) courtesy of Peter and The Pharaoh.
Which could easily become the title of a great new children's picture book.

From The Top, to... well, quite a long way down

And from The Sublime…… to The Ridiculous?

The Premier League

Fulham F.C. vs. Manchester United

Sunday 24th August 2025, kick-off: 4.30pm

Attendance: not published - c. 28,000?

Venue: Craven Cottage.

Regular readers will already be aware that your Fabulous Football Pharaoh is accustomed to the finer things in life. [And non-regulars could probably have assumed it, too.] As is his unchallenged, sole male heir, also.

It should, therefore, come as little surprise to hear that we were both in attendance for Fulham F.C.’s latest contretemps with the self-appointed Best Football Club in the World, this weekend. And that we did so in style, by attending the newly appointed “Sky Deck” lounge, in the club’s now fully functioning newest stand, The Riverside (official grand opening, May 2025). It’s rather unimaginatively named, given that it runs along the side of London’s mighty River Thames (🎵 “I live by the river…” 🎵) and uses premium river views as a dreamily distracting design concept - and a pre-match contrast to its pitch-facing views.

It sits proudly opposite English professional football’s oldest stand, the Johnny Haynes (1905, formerly the Stevenage Road stand). With its quaint wooden seats and early 20^th century amenities. U.S. visitors have been known to liken it to elements of Boston's Fenway Park; one of just two remaining "jewel box" ballparks still in use in Major League Baseball, along with Chicago's Wrigley Field.

The contrasting, ultra-sleek, ultra-modern Riverside Sky Deck is so named because… well, because it reaches almost to the clouds, like a veritable, modern-day Tower of Babel, awaiting the smiting, jealous hand of god, etc.

“Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!", 

as FFC’s rather appropriately-named owners, The Khans, might say.

The vertiginous view from the clouds: FFC players take a pre-match stroll on the pitch, in front of England's oldest AND newest football stands. While their mighty home city glowers menacingly on visitors, in the background, beyond the green-fringed streets of low-level housing.

Attending proceedings that day (and the next day, elsewhere – see below) gave me a nudge and permission to make some observations about the different business models emerging across The Pyramid. So let’s start at the very top.

There’s been significant coverage recently of the “fact”(?) that Fulham now boasts the dubious honour of offering its fans “the most expensive season tickets in the EPL”. And, therefore, by extension – in the world!? Although, as ever, that assertion depends entirely on exactly what it is you’re measuring, of course. And what your agenda might be.

‘Season tickets in Fulham's Riverside Stand can already cost up to £3,000 - the highest in the league - and a new eight-tier hospitality section… offering Michelin-star inspired menus, rooftop pool access on the three-floor 'Sky Deck', sweeping views across the River Thames and London, plus the best halfway-line seats.’ See: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/football/articles/cx272pe5154o.

Quite rightly, it was in these most super-premium seats that the current Pharaoh and his future successor were to be suitably ensconced, in unrivalled luxury, for the duration. Just right for watching 22x lads kick around a sack of air, in the day’s Premier League action. I did even go so far as to look for Imperial Leather soap in the bathrooms, on your behalf. But, perhaps surprisingly (at least for readers of “a certain age”) to no avail.

Thanks to my generous, season ticket holding buddy, John (who was unavoidably out of town) Cal and I were able to experience what life is now like at the very pinnacle of hospitality in English football’s “Pyramid” structure.

To summarise, the view is great (see below). Whilst the wide range of food and drink options are also most acceptable, even to those of us with the finest and fussiest of tastes.

The view from "the cheap seats": kick-off approaches, the Johnny Haynes stand is finally filling up, and flame-throwers are deployed. Naturally!

The pre-match and half-time menus were, indeed, in Michelin-star style - and of similar quality. While the Skyline’s river views are unmatched in English football.

Its bottomless drinks fountains, meanwhile, included Guinness (and lesser beers), Veuve Cliquot champage (blanc et rosé, bien sûr), table wines, cocktails (we sampled excellent pre-lunch Espresso Martinis), mocktails (whatever THEY are?!), cognacs, malt whiskys, G&Ts, obsequiousness and much, much more besides.

Pharaoh and son: the former (right) clearly in need of some urgent hair maintenance.

 
Indeed, more or less “whatever you desire” – as the watch-word of L.A. Confidential’s famous (fictional) Fleur-de-Lis club once had it.
… oh, and the club also provides a match programme, too.

I was, almost inevitably, lured into suitably Pharaonic song, by all of this. Even before kick-off:

🎶 “I've come across the desert

To greet you with a smile.

My camel looks so tired, 🐫

It's hardly worth my while

To tell you of my travels

Across the golden East. 🌄

I see your preparations

Invite me, first, to feast.

… dreams are made of this.” 🎶

Just don’t ask for a cup of tea and a slice of cake, if you wish to avoid late-afternoon disappointment. Small sacrifices!

We did some early, mandatory, “celebrity” spotting. Saint Gary of Lineker was there, for instance; plus, entirely separately, mistress Tabitha Willett and entourage, were all in attendance. The latter, apparently, is a wannabee who was made in Chelsea. At least I think Cal said “made”.

Football-loving(?) Ms Willett - or won't it? 

Arriving fashionably early, two hours before kick-off, in order to optimise our "match-day experience" and refresh ourselves after an arduous journey, we would later take a leisurely, pre-match lunch (strangely timed as a result of SKY TV’s need for a 4.30pm kick-off) whilst seated at the table next to a proud mother. That of Fulham FC’s latest emerging talent: young midfield tyro, Josh King, who has now left the Academy far behind him, in his turbulent wake.

She was, presumably, celebrating her son’s recently renewed and lucrative club contract, amongst other things. But was far too polite to mention it. He had, notably, been voted the Fulham fans’ Man of the Match in the club’s opening day draw, away at Brighton.

As she left her table, she summarised her hopes for the day: that Fulham would not lose, and that her son would play well. One assumes she meant undaunted by his sudden, stellar trajectory. I congratulated her on her rising star. A lovely lady for whom, surely, good things are due. And don’t call me surely!

The Riverside is a key element in the Khan’s emerging business model for Fulham F.C. But don’t take MY word for it. Here’s the BBC’s Nizaar Kinsella on all this: “Fulham's 'world class' Riverside fan experience is the Premier League's relentless march towards monetising the matchday experience.”

Although I note that the BEEB describes him as their ‘Football news reporter, with specific responsibility for covering Chelsea’. So he may have simply got lost, on his way to visiting our nuisance neighbours – or been informed by some personal agenda on this matter. We will be making the short trip up the road to them on Saturday.

But let’s move on to more directly footballing matters. Interestingly, in his pre-match programme notes, manager Marco Silva presciently identified that Fulham’s recent games against The Red Devils ‘have been tight and settled by small details’. It’s unlikely, however, that he foresaw those would almost entirely be decisive small VAR details. I will not bore you with a blow-by-blow match summary. You can find plenty of those elsewhere. Although I wouldn't recommend CNN's "expert"(?) coverage (see image below). If Yoro is Bassey's team-mate, that might help to explain why no foul was awarded, for the former's blatant two-handed push in the back on him.

It sufficeth, I think, merely to draw some big picture conclusions. But Josh King's Mum got at least one of her two wishes:

1) The application of VAR is an absolute mess. And, for “smaller clubs”, a lottery with predictable outcomes. Making the word "lottery" a generous description. Given that its decisions are so seemingly completely biased to The Big Clubs. And Sunday’s visitors.

More Fulham points get flushed down the PGMOL toilet. A well-worn meme, doing the rounds this week. ('Rear Window' , anybody?)

2) Manchester United are a nervous side. With much to be nervous about. Although Cunha looks to have the makings of a decent acquisition, if Amorim doesn't ruin him, first.

When the sad time eventually comes to pass, that Callum takes over his rightful mantle from me as The Fabulous Football Pharaoh, he will be the first Spurs fan to take on that hot seat. Assuming he still IS a Spurs fan, by the time that dismal day comes around, of course.

Yes, whisper it, Fulham is only his “second team”. And that despite everything I did to help him see the clear light of day and behave in the manner of an all-knowing, all-powerful ruler.

His first ever match having been Norwich City vs. FFC (0 - 1, on 28 Aug 2000, when he was aged not yet quite 7 and almost exactly 25 years ago to the day). In the days when Fulham were making their way up The Pyramid under the ownership of an allegedly habitual sex offender. So Cal ought, by rights and by traditional football lore, to be either a Fulham or a Norwich fan. But Gen. Y will insist on having things their own strange way.

By coincidence (or not?) he would later go on to study History at UEA, in Norwich. Like some sort of misguided and delayed homing pigeon.

His Spurs connection is interesting, on this occasion, partly because we found ourselves sitting next to another Spurs fan. He was there with his Fulham-supporting buddy. That seemed a little odd. But much less so than the large number of United fans who were comfortably (and expensively) ensconced in The Riverside.

It is, one assumes, in the nature of ultra-premium hospitality that such tickets must be sold. No matter to whom. In order to optimise revenue. Or, at the very least, to reduce the loss-making risk on the day versus the club’s investment / required outlay.

Fulham fans’ views on all this premiumisation vary. From the self-focussed and parochial, to those with a rather better-informed view of The Bigger Picture. I’ve lifted one example of the latter from a fan Facebook post (25/8/25):
‘Who cares if visiting supporters or “ tourists “ come and watch the matches? It’s better than having empty seats and supports the club financially. Which in turn helps the club meet the financial fair play requirements, so it can (eventually ) invest in new players.’ Quite so, Lee!

Media coverage: The Khan Way. Not sure I entirely recognise myself in this description of FFC's fans. But I guess one out of two ain't bad.

Back down to Earth and camel-less, Cal and I wound our weary way back up the Thames path after the game, in the lowering light. Suitably "refreshed", and mulling over what might have been, if only a referee from Manchester hadn't been appointed to officiate the match. Again!

One of the undisputed greatest match-day walks in world football. The other one heads South towards Putney Bridge, of course.

The result had been a controversial 1-1 draw. MotD pundit Rob Green accurately battered both of the major VAR decisions: "They intervened when they shouldn't have done; and didn't, when they should have!" Casting doubt on PGMOL officials understanding of the game. Which is a serious charge and handicap.

A few days later, in mid-meeting, a United-supporting client asked me for my objective view of that result. I told him, as wisely as ever, that the Pharaoh couldn’t possibly offer an objective and unbiased view. But that a neutral fan might have said the score-line was a fair reflection, despite the egregious errors perpetrated by the referee and his VAR colleagues. I'm not in the business of losing business, after all.

Meanwhile, objective official match statistics showed a slightly different story. With Fulham ahead on: “Expected Goals” (whatever they are?!); overall possession; shots; shots on target; touches inside the opposition’s box; corners; one-on-one attempts; offsides; total passes; pass accuracy; forward passes; successful final third passes; crosses; and won tackle %.

While United led on shots off target (including one memorable penalty miss); long balls; total tackles; total clearances; clearances off the line – oh, and on those all-important VAR decisions (2-0). All of which hardly amounts to “Total Football”, nor match dominance.

You can probably make your own call about the balance of the game, based on all of that data. Regardless of what slant the BBC’s TV highlights package might otherwise have had you believe.

"Early days", in the new season; and hardly

worth checking out the league table yet.

The next day, I awoke with a surprisingly clear head – albeit with a sore throat. I signed myself off fit for duty, and for a second game in less than 24 hours. This time at the arguably rather appropriately-named Donkey Lane. Where early season strugglers, Enfield Town, would take on newly-promoted AFC Totton, in the Enterprise National League South. That’s tier 6 of my "Pyramid". Providing something of a contrast to yesterday's glittering experience.

The Enterprise National League South

Enfield Town vs. AFC Totton

Monday 25th August 2025, kick-off: 3pm

Attendance: 878

Venue: The Dave Bryant (formerly Queen Elizabeth II) Stadium, Donkey Lane.

Match-day tickets were £15, if bought in advance. As the club website says, ETFC refreshment options offer (though, sadly, NOT included in that entry price) ‘three sources of food or drink:

Come N Go Souvlaki and WhiteBox Catering… have a food hatch next to to the turnstiles which serves a variety of hot foods plus matchday specials, as well as tea, coffee etc.

Butler’s Bar, serves a range of lagers and ciders, and a regularly changing selection of ales from local breweries; also serves rolls etc. On busier matchdays, the main stand’s serving hatch also opens to serve as a bar facility

The Club Shop, which provides soft drinks, confectionery etc.’

Butler’s Bar: it's a tidy spot, when the locals aren't messing it up; and it offers very respectable views... but it ain't The Skyline Lounge! We cut our cloth according to our income, etc. It's for hire, y'know.

Notice that afternoon tea IS served. So, in some ways, their catering offer is superior to that of Craven Cottage's Skyline Lounge. And yet the business model is entirely different. No US-Indian multi-billionaire Sugar-Daddy to bail us out. And we wouldn’t want one! Instead, the club is 100% fan-owned. The first club in the country to adopt this model. Although others have since followed suit.

All matters, both on and off the field of play, therefore, have to be fully-financed by profits generated from revenue. Which is tough. But fully sustainable. And made a little easier after narrowly surviving (on the last day of the season) a first year operating “at this level”.

Again, I won't bore you with a full match report. The club’s own coverage is available here (far be it from me to duplicate effort!): https://etfc.london/town-fire-blanks-again/

An Enfield long throw-in, inbound. Taken from in front of the characterful, Art Deco main stand.

It's much newer than the Johnny Haynes!

My Big Picture view? That age-old cliché, “a game of two halves”. Town had the ball in the back of the net twice in the first half. But the refereeing gods were against us. At half-time I heard one home fan grumble they’d “gone 6 hours without a goal”. It seemed like an exaggeration. My own detailed calculations made it only c. 5.5 hours. But they may have been rounding up. And they had certainly, assiduously identified Town’s current Achilles Heel: not enough finishing power.

First half pressure comes to nought, for ETFC. Again!

The standard of goal-keeping is surprisingly(?) high "at this level" - also see my opening day match report, below. And the visitors' GK proved no exception to that observation. Making a couple of crucial, athletic stops to deny Enfield at least the  single point they had probably just about "deserved".  And arguably all three. I've said it before, but The Beautiful Game is a cruel mistress.

A corner and late second half pressure comes to nought, for ETFC. Again!

You can rely on good shape discipline and sturdy defending only for so long, if you’re not banging them in up front. Only until c. the 89^th minute to be precise, as it turned out. When an uncharacteristic GK handling error led to the only goal of the game. Predictably, it was for the visitors. Leaving Town in familiar league table territory, with little risk of vertigo.

Not quite such early days for Enfield;
and already fairly scary reading.

Town do look more solid than at this time last season, with a stronger squad. But we're really not enjoying the Rub of the Green. Yet! Though they often say you make your own luck, in this game.

Though I suspect that's only true in the top flight if you DON’T have crooked VAR on your side. Plus Gazillions of dollars to fritter away, like confetti. Like some newer and less well-established clubs one could mention...

An artist's impression of Fulham's
noisy neighbour's squad bus.

Home and Away, Football is BACK! Season openers, 2025-'26

The Enterprise National League South

Torquay United vs. Enfield Town

Saturday 9th August 2025, kick-off: 3pm

Attendance: 3,859

Venue: Plainmoor, Devon

AND

Enfield Town vs. Maidenhead United

Saturday 16th August 2025, kick-off: 3pm

Attendance: 758

Venue: The Dave Bryant (formerly Queen Elizabeth II) Stadium, Donkey Lane.

... And I don't mean that glorified nonce-fest we call the Premier League, either. I'm talking about REAL football. At grass roots level. Played by real men. Down and dirty. Just like it used to be in the Blue-Remembered Hills of my youth. With jumpers for goal posts and long breaks for meals. When sideburns went all the way and shin pads were for poofters. When grass was still a luxury reserved only for August. And maybe September, if the groundsman could be ar5ed.

Nowadays, we're all poofters, of course. Or women. Or both! And, even "at this level", most players would complain if there wasn't grass on parts of the pitch at least until December. Whatever next?

And so it came to pass that, in the catchily-named Enterprise National League South (the 6th tier of English football's "Pyramid") for the second successive season, Enfield Town F.C. were faced with an opening day 420-mile round trip, to promotion-fancying Torquay United. That’s a lot of miles for my camel to have to trudge.

Enfield's own season aspirations, meanwhile, may need to be somewhat more (ahem!) "calibrated", having finally survived the dreaded drop last year only on the last day of the season.

🎵“On the road again.
Goin' places that I've never been.
Seein' things that I may never see again…”🎵

I'm always (stupidly?) impressed by the commitment, determination and fortitude of football fans who follow their club through thick and thin, home and away, in sickness and in health. Sober or not. Let me reassure you immediately that I am NOT one of those kinds of hardened fans.

A holidaying and fixture computer coincidence, however, meant that this year I would be able, relatively easily, to combine my first ever week away on vacation in Brixham with a short road trip to nearby Plainmoor. Torquay's home ground of c. 104 years; and a former home of League football. A new ground for me, not that I deliberately and anally "collect" grounds, like some do. Plainmoor is what many fans would probably think of as a "proper" football ground. With a view.

Plainmoor. Not ALL that plain, after all.

Whereas Enfield's own home ground might be considered, by comparison, to be a mere metaphorical "tiny acorn", from which it is hoped a mighty oak might eventually one day grow. Sustainably.

Brixham makes a claim to be England's largest fishing port, at least by value of catch. Albeit dwarfed by the major Scottish ports of Peterhead and Fraserburgh. One look at this picturesque Devenish harbour (see below) might make you doubt its mighty claim. Its catch does, however, have a focus on valuable shellfish. A fact which also made for fantastic meal options, throughout our holiday week: from Cod, Haddock and Hake (of course) to shrimps, scallops and lobster. With many other different fish types, in between. Including a curry. The food and the views are to be highly recommended.

A Room with a View: Brixham harbour, taken from our holiday cottage.

My Saturday afternoon view promised to be rather different, though. If not to say prosaic. So it seemed only fair that, having dragged an old college buddy who is now Devon-based out to join me at the game, I should meet him at a pub with a sea view - for a pre-match meal and drinks. Steak and chips with pints of local ale. Luvverly! I include this, perhaps relatively mundane, detail primarily for the benefit of Grant Trebble (“Barbados’s finest”?). Long story, and one of the prompts that first started me off on my long and circuitous Enfield Town (and occasional blogging) journey.

The Fabulous Football Pharaoh with Hugh B, ready for the game.
Though only one of us is in club colours.

Now, Hugh and I go back longer than either of us probably cares (or even dares?) to routinely remember. All the way back to Sept. 1982, in fact, and my first appearance at a Wednesday afternoon college team kick-around. He and I were amongst the small number of a male student intake at what had previously, and until recently, been an all-female college. So we necessarily ended up playing a number of men’s sports together.

It was all so very long ago that there is, thankfully, little or no photographic evidence. Perhaps cameras had not yet been invented? Eventually, we went our separate and different ways, of course, in June 1985: career-wise, geographically, philosophically(?). But it’s been football that has largely kept us rebounding and boomeranging. Coming back together for reunion tours and related social gatherings over many years. Don’t calculate those years though, just cut us in half and count the rings.

And yet this was probably the first time we’d met up meaningfully, face-to-face together, in c. 8-10 years. Maybe longer? For me, that’s one of football’s great, enduring capabilities. Providing us with opportunities to form strong bonds; and then to keep them going over decades - and distances. That's what this football lark is really all about, isn't it?

Once upon a time, Hugh was a goalkeeper – and still is, at heart. While I was an inspirational, Beckenbauer-esque defender/defensive midfielder. At least in my own head! And still try to be, on a weekly basis, in the old men’s Walking Football format of the game. Not least with Enfield Town W.F.C. Hugh and I were able to pick up our conversation and discuss the game (and all things life-related) as though we were merely continuing on from last night's conversation.

Infamy, infamy…
they’ve all got it in for me!

After a spell of Northern missionary work in Scarborough fair, and a role with the local non-league club, Hugh still bears the deep psychological scars of the club’s alleged mistreatment at the hands of its local council. Resulting in its winding up, after 128 resonant years. The club was older than Torquay United.

Enfield Town’s own fans will be only too familiar with the sound of the moment of infamy which Hugh still relates so very passionately. The final nail in the club’s metaphorical coffin.

A covenant had existed on the club’s McCain Stadium site, that restricted its use to sporting activities only. Sadly, Scarborough F.C. failed to convince the Borough Council that its proposal to sell the stadium to a housing developer would raise sufficient funds to pay off the club’s debts and build a new ground, thus deserving approval of their change of use application.

Yet, under new ownership, the site was mysteriously found to be suddenly deserving of that very change of use confirmation that had been withheld from the soccer club. "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose", eh? But let’s just shake our heads knowingly and head back to the day’s action…

So Hugh is also your man, should you want an intelligent conversation about, and/or an examination of, non-league football. Its dos and don’ts, its politics, etc. Scarborough, incidentally, now boasts a Phoenix club (The Seadogs) as does Enfield (The Towners). Interestingly and coincidentally, these two sides both play in the same level of The Pyramid: the National Leagues North and South, respectively.

On the day, fan coaches travelling from Enfield left it late. Arriving in Fergie Time, with just 3-4 minutes to spare before kick-off. Perfectly judged, some might say. There were c. x179 away fans in attendance, including Hugh in his honorary role for the day, out of a total attendance of 3,859.

"Are you not entertained?"

I won’t bore you with a mundane match report on the opening day’s action. Instead, I’ve shared a screengrab of a short one below. From a more authoritative and independent source. Plus a confirmation of Town’s line-up.

My own view? It was, once again, that great Match of the Day cliché: “a game of two halves”. Wherein Torquay won the first half 3-0, pretty much fair and square. Albeit with the help of the usual smattering of “questionable” refereeing.

There was sunshine, naïve Enfield defending, some arguable (not) offside calls and more besides. Unlike in the same fixture last year, there was no go-ahead early goal for the visitors, to disrupt the home side’s pre-planned pattern of play. Last season, Lewis Taaffe had slotted home after just 4 minutes. If only!

Stand-out players for United were their #7, Louis Dennis (a recent arrival, apparently) and #8, Jordan Young. They scored the 1st and 2nd goals, respectively and gave Enfield's defence a torrid first half. Young also earned their bang-to-rights penalty.

While, with a formation change and perhaps somewhat surprisingly, Enfield recovered significantly to dominate and “win” the second half 0-1. Again, fair and square (albeit with the same smattering of “questionable” refereeing decisions – or, mostly, a lack of them). Whisper it, but there probably should have been a straight red card in the second half for an “agricultural” (rather appropriately) challenge on Town's striker, clear on goal. A Denial of an Obvious Goal-Scoring Opportunity (DOGSO). Or, in this case, an absolute dog’s dinner.

The home side’s website match report later ignored this Inconvenient Truth. But did acknowledge that, in their goal, ‘Hamon was kept busy’. No sh1t, Sherlock! TBF, several of his saves were top class. Each resulting in a forgivable nudge and a smile from my resident GK expert, Hugh. Saving (pun intended) all the points for Torquay.

Enfield’s only goal came from local lad, Mickey Parcell (“He’s one of our own…” – although he has also had spells at Torquay and elsewhere). You could say he successfully delivered the goods. If you were into bad puns, that is.

A very respectable, long-distance away following. Eventually.
Hugh and I are both in there, somewhere.
Source: ETFC supporters' site

Visiting fans may well have left the ground bemused at the number of good second-half chances our side had missed, or had saved or smothered. And at Town’s failure to secure at least 1 point from their second-half efforts and their long-distance travels. For 45 minutes, they'd had to make a lot of their own fun. With some great, mostly non-stop chanting, and baiting of the home crowd. The second half had seen a considerable turn around. And a continuation of the singing.

To the refrain of KC & the Sunshine Band’s famous tune:
🎵"Town away / Uh-huh, uh-huh / I like it!"🎵

Plus many of the other usual, witty suspects:
We forgot that you were here.
3-0, and you still don’t sing. 3-0…
You’ve got to stay here. We can go home!

With Truro promoted on the final day of last season, Enfield have at least got our longest road trip out of the way early. Although The West Country still beckons a couple more times, in the shape of  Bath and Weston-Super-Mare. Clue: it's really not THAT super.

I, of course, merely had to wend my weary way 9 miles south along the coastal road, to yet another slap-up shellfish supper, overlooking the sea. Tasty! But I would rather have had 3 opening day points to digest. Or at least one.

More of the Same?

Town’s much-improved second half performance at Torquay boded well for the visit of newly-relegated Maidenhead United, the following Saturday. Those “Magpies” arrived under the leadership of former Upton Park favourite, England winger, and F.A. Cup winner, Alan Devonshire. Although you might be forgiven for not recognising him, these days. Devonshire and I share a Park Royal connection. Where he was born and where I worked for most of 17 glorious Guinness years. In other local trivia: Central Middlesex hospital (which is no longer in the disembowelled county of Middlesex at all, of course – although Enfield still IS!) is renowned within the NHS as a leading centre for the study of gunshot wounds. I wonder why…

Luckily, my holiday schedule had me travelling home from Brixham on the Friday, via Lyme Regis, Monkey World and the M25 car park. Just in time to take in Enfield Town’s first home game of the season, in front of 758 x fans. This slightly disappointing attendance figure is partly accounted for by that previously rare thing, a Saturday 3pm home kick-off for local Big Boys, Spurs. Whose Under-21 side Town had recently despatched in a pre-season friendly.

I’ll be honest. This was NOT a game to write home about. Nor to write much about at all. So I will, instead, again mostly leave it to that same neutral source.

My own view? Rather than promotion prospects, Maidenhead looked more like relegation candidates. I posted at half-time that Town were looking the better team, against a "physical" side that did seem to love a long ball. And a good, unpunished shirt pull. Plenty of those.

It was goalless, at the time. And so it would stay. Good chances were at a premium. And arguably the tastiest action of the day came after the final whistle. Following a game where the referee seemed wary of making any decisions of import, and where temperatures were steadily rising, a 20-man ("handbags") brawl was always likely to be a fitting end to matters. Both sides will need to find their scoring boots if they are to survive, let alone thrive, this season. If not their boxing gloves.

Mind you, the visitors did arrive with a decent away following, amongst the 758 present. My encounters with whom were NOT promising. Clearly already surprisingly “refreshed” before kick-off, I had more trouble understanding what they were saying than I’d had with the Torquay fans.

It would seem they were still smarting from their recent relegation. And perceived mismanagement, etc. Now, if only their club were 100% fan-owned, eh? And being built sustainably, from the ground up, based on its actual income. A concept that will, surely, never catch on "at this level". But don’t call me Surely!

A mere single point harvested from the first 6 available may not look like much. But, as I type, we are barely more than 2 hours away from kick-off time of the next league fixture. Against local rivals, Hornchurch (7.45pm K-O). The fixtures come thick and fast, this early in the new season. A win would put Enfield on a healthy 4 points (W1 D1 L1). And even a single point would be respectable. 
While a defeat would probably have Towners fans reflecting on an uncomfortable Deja Vu.

And now, for me at least, it's back to the serious business of Walking Football...

Post Script: An 88th minute Tuesday night winner for the visitors prevented Enfield's hoped-for progress UP the table. Instead, we are second from bottom. While Hornchurch's continued 100% record has lifted them to second from the top. Just ahead of Torquay. Yes, it's been a truly tough opening to the new season for The Towners. And it's already feeling like déjà vu, all over again. To quote the iconic professional baseball player, manager, coach and wit, Lawrence "Yogi" Berra.

But things can only get better.

Right?