Of Old Friends and New Grounds

"Men kick friendship around like a football, but it doesn't seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces"

Anne Morrow Lindbergh (U.S. author, aviator, and wife of fellow aviator Charles)

The Football Pharaoh brings you a highly personal double-whammy from The Championship, this week. Hot on the heels of having somehow failed to beat Brighton at The Amex Stadium, Fulham FC hosted high-flyers Reading at The Cottage, with hopes of a different and better outcome. It was the perfect fixture for me to catch up with a couple of football fanatics and former work colleagues, from Warburtons. Two of my party were “Royals” followers; and perhaps they still are? The fourth member of the group was an ex-Pat Celtic fan who still gets to more than 20 of The Bhoys’ games each season and also takes in ‘missionary work’ and a few crumbs of soccer comfort at various London grounds, as a ‘neutral’, in-between times. Ex-pat Pat, incidentally, also recently lent me his copy of Richard Ford’s seminal 1986 novel, “The Sportswriter”, which perhaps gives some sense of just what a bunch of highly cultured and committed sports fans I normally associate with. The following weekend would see me catching up with another football fan and former work colleague, a long-time Wolves sufferer, from Westmill … and yes, before you ask, I HAVE also worked for companies whose names DON’T start with a “W”.

The Amex was recently the 10^th of the current 24 Championship grounds I had ticked off my ‘bucket list’ of to-do’s; Molineux would be the 11^th. I might never make it past 12; but I’ll live with that. It’s not what I go to football matches for. I am not a Collector; although, as you may have noticed, I am something of an analyst. Before my Wolves odyssey, however, there was first the small matter of yet another trip to see one more old friend: the first professional football venue I had ever visited (and now something of a spiritual second home) Craven Cottage; the abode of London’s oldest professional football club. As Alf Garnett once famously  said, unintentionally endearingly, in reference to (Sir) Bobby Moore’s ‘early retirement’ to The Cottage, in 1974: “they do play a more elderly style of football, at Fulham” … and, over the years, it has been hard to disagree with that assessment, at times.

Fulham vs. Reading - 3pm k-o

Saturday 3rd December, 2016

The English Football League Championship

"The Joy of Six Five"

… In fact, only four of us went along (me, Pat, Stuart and Stuart’s wife, Paula). In prospect was a visit to possibly the quietest football stand in Christendom (“The Riverside”, sitting proudly opposite the finest and oldest remaining stand in the entire Football League - The “Johnny Haynes” / Stevenage Road Stand) to watch a more elderly style of football. Remind me, how did I end up here? Oh yes, it was via some imported German Ales, wurst, and chicken & chips at the Little Bavaria which is The Octoberfest pub, on the Fulham Road. Whose main disadvantage is the long-ish walk it leaves, to the ground.

I normally default to sitting in the Riverside, when I take along mates who support opposing teams, because it’s where a lot of the corporate guests and the more up-market Fulham fans go. On the upside, there’s normally no hassle; on the downside, there’s not really much atmosphere, either. Although it’s very nice to hear other Fulham fans enjoying themselves on two other sides of the ground; and, of course, the smaller number of travelling fans (most of whom normally haven’t travelled very far at all) often out-singing the home support … except in the rare event of Fulham taking an early lead.

The Johnny Haynes Stand, viewed from The Riverside. 

Unusually, that was exactly what happened at this game. Once the salutary minute’s silence had been observed for those Brazilian club footballers who had tragically died in a plane crash in Colombia earlier in the week, Fulham started the match brightly, immediately taking an offensive game to the visitors. After a rush of blood to the head, Reading’s skipper and central defender, Paul McShane, was booked for totally unnecessary dissent, as early as the second minute. This would hamper his ability to intervene ‘robustly’ for the rest of the game. Fulham’s deserved breakthrough arrived after just a quarter of an hour. Fredericks’ run down the Fulham right was rewarded with a well-weighted pass from Tom Cairney and ended with a speculative, low cross into the centre of the Reading area. Here Chris Gunter, seemingly disoriented by the low, late afternoon sunshine coming through the gap between the Riverside and the Putney End stands, got his head down to nod the innocuous-looking ball effortlessly into his own net. Silence suddenly ensued at the away end, behind the visitors’ goal; and the tone was set for the afternoon. To be fair, Stuart had already observed that his side’s manager, Jaap Stam (yes, THAT Jaap Stam!) had made a strange tactical choice in featuring the returning van den Berg in his starting line-up in a sort of #10 position, to which it soon became clear that he was unaccustomed and ill-suited. It was a decision Stam probably went on to regret. Van den Berg was more or less ineffective throughout the match; and was booked after 57 minutes, though not substituted. Perhaps it was a Dutch loyalty thing?!

For all their superiority of possession and territory the hosts struggled to take full control of the game and stretch their lead. That was, at least, until early in the second half. After 49 minutes, Fulham ‘keeper David Button played a long ‘route one’ pass down the middle, which the visitors' central defender Blackett seemed to flick backwards, inadvertently into the path of the onrushing Chris Martin. Left in far too much space by a reticent Reading rear guard, the ‘Scotsman’ doubled that previously fragile-looking lead with a right-footed shot from outside the box. Fulham were finally looking comfortable. And that sense was only enhanced when Reading were reduced to 10 men by the slightly questionable sending off of Danny Williams for “violent conduct” after 54 minutes. It was an innocuous-looking incident, with two players tangled in a heap after the ball had gone out of play. The errant camera work featured in the TV highlights package aired that evening failed to shed any additional light on the incident. Perhaps there were some “afters”. Certainly Stefan Johansen stayed down, after appearing to barge into the Reading player; and he was able to point later to some interesting stud marks on his torso. If Fulham hadn’t already been two goals up, it might have proved a turning point.

Fulham (in white) in full flow in front of an enthralled Johnny Haynes stand crowd, during the second-half action.

You can read all the rest of the gory details here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/football/38113358. Suffice it to say that, after reorganising and surviving that sending off until the 68^th minute, indeed having had several chances to score a goal of their own, the visitors finally capitulated somewhat in the last half hour or so. Sone Aluko was briefly a Rangers player; and briefly prolific in front of goal for them. He initiated Fulham’s second wind with the third goal, after bursting between two defenders on a powerful run in from the right wing. The goal was only confirmed after some comedy officiating, which saw a delay in proceedings and an extended conflab between the ref and his assistant over whether the off-side Chris Martin had actually touched Aluko’s driven shot and thus ‘interfered with play’.

Br-Exit discussions continue, near the corner flag ... 'In', or 'Out'?

After inordinate prevarication, the final decision eventually left our green-and-white contingent less than impressed. The linesman's flag was over-ruled - and the goal stood. They can really bear a grudge, though, these Glasgow Bhoys! Fulham's third was soon followed by a goal for former Celtic man Johansen, which cheered up ‘neutral’ Pat no end. Cancelling out (as it appeared) that earlier "Rangers" goal. The fourth was a sublime volley driven in with a strike of the outside of his left foot across the ball, sending it low and very curvingly around the ‘keeper to the right, from the centre of the box, after a neat pass from Floyd Ayité. It was a thing of sublime beauty; and we were lucky to be sitting directly behind the flight of the ball, to admire it fully.

Despite more-or-less total dominance for the rest of the game, it looked as though Fulham’s hopes of increasing their 4-0 lead would be frustrated. That was until the 90^th minute, when Martin finally scored his second and Fulham’s 5^th of the game; with a sweetly struck free-kick from just outside the centre of the Reading area. Al-Habsi could have done better; but it hardly mattered. Although, with 5 added minutes of time still to play, the buoyant home fans now started chanting “We want six – we want six!” They were to be disappointed. As were the rapidly departing Reading fans. Stuart has asked me to point out that, as usual, he made a point of staying until the (very) bitter end. It took nerves of steel!

Now you see them ... now you don't. Disappearing away fans.

It was described on the Fulham club website as “a rampant display”; and it was hard to argue with that, despite the generosity of the visitors. Five nil wins are normally very rare beasts; though not at The Cottage, this season. This was our second in our latest three home matches. The Joy of Five, indeed! Just over a month earlier, we had destroyed high-fliers Huddersfield Town by the same margin. I could get used to Fulham’s current scoring frenzy. After this game, Fulham manager Slavisa Jokanovic said "Normally I am never satisfied; but today I am satisfied” … but he wasn’t, really. He added: “we can still do better than that". His team would have the chance to prove him right the next weekend.

And so, without further ado, let's get on to that second featured game ...


Wolverhampton Wanderers vs Fulham - 3pm k-o

Saturday 10th December, 2016

The English Football League Championship

A Wet Wednesday Saturday in Wolverhampton's Wild West

In all honesty, it was more than a little difficult for me to match up to my prior commitment to Paul, the following Saturday. Which, perversely, is precisely why it was important to ensure that I did just that. The December day dawned with a steady drizzle over dull Enfield; and I soon dimly remembered that I had a more than 260-mile round-trip ahead of me, and six hours in a car, much of it forecast to be in driving rain - if I was to make it three Fulham games in a row - AND tick Molineux off that ‘bucket list’ of mine. She is, after all, one of the grand old names of English football; although the stadium has been through many changes in recent years. I have been to the town numerous times; but never on a match-day. So I had little historical context in which to set my damp football pilgrimage. Luckily, BBC Radio 4’s “I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue” team recently paid a visit to the Grand Theatre in Wolverhampton for a show. So I was armed with plenty of (slightly suspect) local knowledge: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b08497d1.

As some attentive readers may remember, Wolves were Fulham's opponents for my first attendance at a professional game (see programme cover, above). There were some fairly famous names turning out for both sides on that day. Worthy of so much more than a 0-0 draw in the second tier; but it was enough to start my 40-year journey 'to hell and back'. We would have little of such stardust (nor of such warm, sunny, September weather) on this occasion.

Graphic Design: "My how things have changed, Grandma!" Stylish concept work on the programme cover; only slightly spoiled by rain damage on the rear.

Fulham would go into the game as one of the highest-scoring sides in the Championship; Wolves would do so as a side flirting with the league’s drop-zone. I joked in an e-mail, before setting off for Paul’s house, that it could easily rain goals, in the expected slippery conditions. Many a true word, they say, is spoken in jest. Geoffrey Chaucer put it more pithily in his Canterbury story “The Cook's Tale”: "Ful ofte in game a sooth I have herd saye!". While James Joyce coined the more succinct equivalent Latin phrase “in risu veritas”, in Chapter four of “Ulysses”.

It is normally considered polite, before a game, to engage in banter with friendly opposition fans about what a tight contest the day should offer; how a good game is in prospect; how it could go either way … but in one’s heart of hearts, partisan favouritism for one’s own team is always paramount. Or, as Gandalf might defiantly offer: “They shall not paaaaass!”

Famous Old Boy: Billy Wright's statue; not far from  the Q Inn Chippy.

After the normal match-day ritual of a wet drive, including delays on the M6 and on the roads into Wolverhampton, we arrived in Paul’s normal match-day parking area, about an hour before kick-off. It was noticeable, he told me, that we were able to park considerably closer to the ground than he had expected. A sign, we suspected that the ground would be less than full. Parked up, we made our way to the Q Inn Chippy, on the Newhampton Rd East and dived inside, out of the fast-developing downpour. Welcome to Wolverhampton! Again we were surprised to find the nearest chip shop to the ground completely devoid of match-day customers. This was match-day, wasn’t it, we enquired. The bearded owner seemed as mystified as we were. He desperately needed custom to pick up fast, he confided. It is football punks, after all, that make his day.

A great view from the "Billy Quiet" Stand.

... And sometimes, even The Great Man had something to be quiet about. On 25th November 1953, the best goal of a very famous international game was scored by Ferenc Puskas, of Hungary, at Wembley, having received the ball from Czibor on the right, near England's six-yard box. When the hosts' captain went towards him for the tackle, Puskas drew the ball back as Wright charged past. He was famously described by distinguished English football writer, Geoffrey Green: "like a fire engine going to the wrong fire" - and leaving the Hungarian captain free to score with his powerful left-foot. Having died from pancreatic cancer on 3rd September 1994, aged 70, Billy Wright was cremated and his ashes were scattered on the Molineux.pitch.
Paul & I queued up for tickets and pretty much had our pick of seats in the Billy Wright stand. We soon found out why. Wiki tells me that Molineux has a crowd capacity of 31,700. She also tells me that the record attendance stands at 61,315. A figure unlikely to be surpassed this century; but today’s gate would be a mere 19,020. Oddly, that official attendance figure was exactly 60% of capacity. Inside the ground, we ordered cups of warming tea; and I added a side-order of cold and ludicrously over-priced Banks’s Amber Ale. We didn't bother to take up our allocated seats. There was plenty of choice amongst the half-empty stand; so we grabbed a couple of seats half-way back and near the half-way line. With me firmly ensconced in the “wrong” end (AND in the wrong seat!) there was eventually a fairly well-filled visitors’ area; but, as expected, the home fans were soon questioning “is that all you take away?” Apparently it was; but frankly, on a soaking wet December day, when even red-blooded, die-hard football fans could have been forgiven for remembering they had important Christmas shopping to attend to (rather than leaving it all until Xmas Eve, as usual) the "Wulfrunians" were lucky to have that many Londoners to whom they could sing their funny little song. It will be interesting to see just how many make the reverse trip, to The Cottage, in March. In fact, there seemed to be a local rule that only home fans in the Sir Jack Hayward Stand, in fact, were allowed to sing at all. I was then informed that the Billy Wright stand is also known locally as the Billy Quiet stand – so it is not entirely unlike the ‘library’ that is Craven Cottage’s Riverside stand, after all. Does every club have such an area? To be fair, the Billy Quiet stand housed a lot of folk who appeared to be Waiting for Godot - and were presumably, therefore, saving their energies.

The North Bank Stand

Not a moment too soon, the game was under way; and a pattern of play was quickly established. The visitors would be required to play with finesse; while the home side were to play the role of energetic, youthful strivers. That was fine with me. Paul and I concurred that the best players on the pitch were to be found amongst those wearing a natty Man. Utd. look-alike strip of red shirts, white shorts and black socks: the Fulham away kit. Former Wolves player Kevin McDonald and (in particular) Tom Cairney stood out in the middle; but Fulham’s two wingers (Sone Aluko and Floyd Ayité) were not far behind. So it will come as no surprise to regular readers to hear that it was Wolves who took the lead, slightly against the run of play, in the 22^nd minute; and nearly doubled that lead just a few moments later. To be fair, they could very easily have already scored four by then; and so too could have Fulham. Both defences were looking fragile and edgy. Careless back-passes seemed to be very much the order of the day, on a surface whose pace looked difficult to judge.

Q. Is that all you take a-way? A. (from the lower tier) Is that all you get at home?

Fulham were only behind for ten minutes, though. Stefan Johansen hit an excellent right footed shot from the centre of the Wolves area, high into the top left corner. He then proceeded to celebrate by goading the home crowd and punching their very attractive corner flag. The residents of the Jack Hayward Stand were highly amused. Not! A proper end-to-end game then swung firmly in Fulham’s favour. In the space of three minutes before half-time, Fulham went 1-3 ahead. First, after 39 minutes, Ayité headed a Ryan Fredericks cross back across the goalie, from inside the six yard box to the centre of the goal. London accents were finally heard, above the noise of heavy rainfall: “How bad must you be? We’re winning away!” Then Tom Cairney let fly with a superb left footed volley from outside the box in a training ground move set up by Johansen. It was Fulham's third goal in the space of 10 minutes; and the excitement was all too much for the locals, who now headed en masse for the bars and food areas. Soon, the players followed them off the pitch, too.

The ball heads towards Tom Cairney (out of picture, left) just before his sublime volley.

I was now dreaming of yet another 5-goal score-line for Fulham; and Paul was clearly concerned that the goal floodgates might well open up fully in the second half. He was not wrong – and yet his fears were not entirely well-founded, either. Paul Lambert had earned his managerial crust with a half-time team-talk of mammoth proportions; and soon Wolves were back in the game, hunting as a pack, within desire in their eyes and in their hearts. Their 19-year-old replacement ‘keeper made a fine double-save early in the second period; and, finally, belief began to course through Wolverhampton veins. Just after the hour mark, Matt Doherty had a simple tap in from very close range, as he hurtled onto a loose ball from a driven Nouha Dicko cross. It was 2-3; and it was very much “game-on”. You can read more details in a match report here:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/football/38192220; but suffice it to say that the end-to-end excitement continued unabated for the remaining half hour – though with considerably more success for the home side. It had been a long drive; but we were to be well rewarded. Amidst a mass of yellow cards and substitutions, Ivan Cavaleiro brought the scores level for Wolves less than 10 minutes later, with a deft finish after a powerful, buccaneering run with the ball. “Three-one … and you messed it up” (almost) the locals sang to the miserable, wet, away following; and they were not wrong. Things got worse for the visitors in the final minute of normal time, when David Edwards rumbustious run ended with a scintillating, if speculative, finish through two defenders and the flailing Fulham ‘keeper, from an almost impossibly narrow angle on the right. This was not the goal feast I had been envisaging at half-time. Oh no! I had that sinking feeling that only the demoralised and defeated away fan with a dismal, damp, three-hour drive ahead of them can fully appreciate.

The Sir Jack Hayward Stand. Very nearly full; and very noisy.

But hark! What twist of Shakespearean fate was this? Four festive minutes into added time, after a downward header from Tomas Kalas,.the diminutive Ayité stooped low at the far post to unwrap an early ‘Christmas present’ and score his second header of the game, to bring the scores level at 4-4. And now there was only one team looking like they had the momentum to tie up all three (away) points. But the fickle fingers of Fate’s time-piece were against Fulham, on this occasion. As Mr. Darren Bond blew his whistle for the final time that day, honours (and eight goals) were to be wetly and equally shared; though the moral victory was probably more with the home side. Fulham had enjoyed 63% of possession away from home; and more on-target efforts – but we had failed familiarly, once again, to make the most of our dominance. It made for a less awkward journey home, though, that neither Paul nor I were the proud owners of three (very luckily earned) points. In the ten-minute walk back to his car, we were thoroughly soaked. It had rained goals, as predicted; it had rained torrents of water, too. We were both, ultimately, happy with the way things had turned out. A pre-Christmas treat for us both. We could be, in equal parts, both ‘gutted’ (like fish on the slab) - but happy, too (like pigs in sh … erry? Or in blankets?). Heaven forbid that we might kick our friendship around like a football,only to find that it goes to pieces.

And, with that thought hanging poignantly in the air, it was time "to get out of Dodge" and head back to The Beautiful South. The home of (comparative) warmth and dryness. With my eleventh Championship ground damply secured in my football pocket.