That Familial London Derby - and yet another 'must-win' match

The English Premier League
Sunday 20th January, 2019, 4:00 pm kick-off - Craven Cottage

My son Callum intimated to me, back in November, that he'd like to watch his team (Spurs) play my team (Fulham) at Craven Cottage, this season. So I duly bought ludicrously over-priced tickets (at seventy-five of your English pounds each - it's an "A-game", y'know!) as part of his (and my) Christmas present. Another perfectly good game originally scheduled for a regular Saturday 3 pm slot, slightly spoiled by the overridingly complicit commercialism of the Premier League's servile re-scheduling of matches for TV. I still thought we could make a day of it, however, by having a relaxed Sunday lunch together, taking a stroll around South-West Central London, and visiting a gallery or museum before finally making our way to the game. It sounded like a nice idea to have some quality father-and-son time together, doing blokey stuff. At the time of initial planning, I had not reckoned on picking up a nasty and aggressive virus, over Christmas - and still being rather run-down, as a result, for dealing with a demanding Dad day. This is another negative aspect of the planning required, for fans actually attending our modern game, in the flesh. Long gone, those days of deciding last-minute, on the day, whether or not to go along to watch your 'boys'; simply handing over your shillings at the turnstiles, with everybody else.

Cal is a former student of History and Law. So a trip to a museum coupled with this fixture was especially resonant for him. As a historian, I hoped he would particularly appreciate spending some research time at the historic Craven Cottage stadium (home to London’s oldest professional club) with a fine view from our "Riverside" seats of England’s oldest surviving football league stand (the Johnny Haynes stand, opposite ours, on the Stevenage Road). The current Riverside Stand is expected to become “History” soon, itself. It is scheduled for redevelopment at the end of this season. Assuming the club's board don't wince and baulk at the proposed cost, in the face of a potential return whence we came, to The Championship. Whichever way the stand redevelopment plans go, the situation seemed to suggest that Callum could be amongst the last Spurs fans ever to sit in it, to watch his team play. Does it get any better than that, historically speaking?

Our classic (but expensive) view of footballing history ... possibly in more ways than one, come the end of this season.

We started with a Sunday steak lunch on Sloane Square, with a sunny, postprandial stroll to the venue for our cultural dessert: the National Army Museum. After which we also took on an 'amuse-bouche', in the shape of The Phene (Cal's choice: a posho's pub, as featured heavily in the low-brow TV show, "Made in Chelsea" ... Hugh Grant was NOT in the building). We then disdained the District Line and took a lift to the Fulham ground with Mohammed, from Mogadishu. He is an uber-Uber driver who, now, comes highly recommended. This last cheat saved us a good chunk of time and allowed us to soak up some 15 minutes of pre-match atmosphere inside the stadium, before the main event got going, under early evening floodlights.

Later, that old devil moon (see photo, below) would turn itself into a super-sized blood orange, under the influence of a total solar eclipse. Giving the 24/7 rolling news media an uncontroversial item with which to briefly sate their appetite for frenzied, repetitive and uninformative "news" coverage. For now, though, they would have to squeeze as much mileage as possible from the potential permutations of London's latest Premier League derby match. The questions for Fulham fans were: could our team eclipse (see what I did, there?) its pre-match billing and carry their A-game into play against 3rd-placed Spurs? And did they even have an A-game? It has been hard to tell, in recent months. Although the inflated face-value price of our tickets claimed that they indeed did, on paper at least.

Despite him not being renowned for his love of Fulham FC, Callum's and my journey brought to mind some historical, hundred year-old words, from anglophile Yankee wordsmith T.S. Eliot:

"Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky ...
Let us go and make our visit."

We had gone and made our visit; our pilgrimage to the shrine of London's earliest professional football. As had Tottenham Hotspur; both their team and a larger number of their fans than was strictly allowed. They did so, however, without the preferred company of the likes of 'Arry Kane, Son Heung-min, and Moussa Sissoko. Despite this, some punters, whom I hoped were being overly-optimistic, were still predicting a 0-4 scoreline - and Fulham were 5-1 ON for a home win, with the bookies. Did they not know that we had signed Ryan Babel? Many of the visiting Spurs fans had found a way of infiltrating the Riverside Stand seats. Crowd segregation at Premier League football grounds is clearly NOT, in reality, as well managed as it might claim/seem to be, on paper. In the unlikely event of a 4-0 scoreline, could there possibly be some old school, North vs. South London argy-bargy on the cards?

Some choreographed pre-match waving of big flags: what's that all about?

In a pre-match interview with The Observer newspaper, former Liverpool winger Ryan Babel stated he believes he has unfinished business in the EPL and wants to help Fulham survive. The 32-year-old had joined Fulham just that week on a short-term deal, until the end of the season. He has revitalised his career with Besiktas recently and won back his place in the Netherlands national squad. He says he still has "a burning ambition to prove some people in this country wrong". Let's hope he can deliver on that threat / promise. The same article states that Babel’s only previous experience of a relegation dogfight came in 2016, when he scored four times in five starts to help Deportivo La Coruna avoid relegation. Which would be a great model to follow. If he could only repeat that feat in our cosy little corner of South-West London, then I'd be perfectly happy.

The usual pre-match pretence of Premier League friendship and fair play ... before reality, inevitably, bites!

Keeping the "literary" theme going, club captain Tom Cairney features in an interview and his own notes in (and on the cover of) the match day programme. If he were to play against Spurs, it said, he would be making his 150th club appearance, on his 28th birthday. So, naturally, he did ... NOT play. His dialled-in contribution to the programme, however, was built upon the shoulders of giant clichés. Including: "we had a word at half-time"; "we tried to play more football"; "a win in a game like this could turn our season around"; [Babel has] "given the boys a real lift ... someone with his pedigree"; "hopefully he can hit the ground running"; "it's the best league in the world". Bingo! That's the whole set, right there. A full card of cliché contributions.

You can read the detailed match reports and what passes for sports 'journalism' on the game elsewhere, along the lines of: "battling Fulham" and "heart-breaking defeat" (e.g. at the FFC website; or in BBC coverage). The true tale of the game though was, in essence, simple enough to read: one team NOT taking its chances and failing to concentrate on the task at hand for 90+ minutes. The same team too content to sit back and try to protect a ever-vulnerable one-goal lead. An air kick (Tim Ream); a failure to read the flight of the ball, or even to get off the ground, to intercept a threatening cross (Denis Odoi); and a failure to track back in the dying seconds (Joe Bryan) were all Spurs needed, in the end, to upset the apple cart, spring the locks and "get out of jail free". When Fulham had, in fact, had the chances (including a blatant, stonewall, shirt tug of a penalty on Mitrović) and should really have got themselves 2 goals ahead in the first half - and "out of sight". You see, the Fabulous Football Pharaoh can do hackneyed clichés with the best of them, as and when he feels the need.

Oh, the result? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. The narrowest of 1-2 defeats for Fulham, having deservedly lead for a large chunk of the game. At least it meant there would be no North vs. South London argy-bargy, after all. With no third goal looking likely in the match, we had been slowly heading towards the exit just as Spurs broke down the left, in the 93rd minute. Excruciating - and an undeserved kick in the thingies after a highly commendable, stalwart, under-dog, rear-guard action. Two 'schoolboy' defensive errors = two goals for the opposition ... for the the second week running. It would seem that Fulham have just not acclimatised, still, to the increased threat level of PL strike forces. Even Spurs' relatively blunted one.

In his programme notes, Cairney had shared the view that "if we hadn't won [the Championship play-off final, against Villa] the whole team would have been broken up". There's still plenty of time and opportunity for that though, come the end of THIS season, Tom. Time to start learning lessons and turning the talk into action, eh lads?!

Photographic evidence that it really HAD been that close a game, for the most part.

With all best wishes from your Fabulous Football Pharaoh, until next time. Which may yet be prompted by fellow keen sports fan George Lewis's planned February UK work trip, from the USA. An opportunity and excuse, if ever there was one, for a surfeit of soccer action, beers, fine wines, cigars, malt whiskies and old 'war' stories. Bring it on, George!