Archive for August, 2024

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Liffey Wanderers v Bangor Celtic, Friday 2nd February 2024, 7.45pm

August 6, 2024

With Jen back home from the States, we decided to take a trip to Ireland. A choice made primarily because my passport was away at the Saudi Arabian Embassy for a visa update, and I could travel to Ireland using my UK driving licence.

We took the train to Holyhead and then with a combined ticket caught a ferry to Dublin as foot passengers. It was all very easy.

Dublin was busy despite the time of year, and it seemed that most people knocked off work for the weekend at around ten o’clock on a Friday morning. I was happy to do the same and we wandered around the touristy bit around the river, mixing with the stags, hens and those who simply fancied a mid-morning Guiness.

I’d never been to Ireland before which is odd given its proximity and the fact that Ryanair used to fly from Teesside Airport. That meant that my first game would tick off another country in which I’d watched football, bringing my score up to sixty.

Whilst that seems a lot, most people who have followed their country home and away for a few years would probably have seen games in more countries. It’s only really when you’ve watched games in around a hundred or so countries that it becomes anything out of the ordinary.

The match was at the Irishtown Stadium, but on the astro pitch outside rather than in the stadium proper. It was a third-tier game with around eighty people braving the cold and the lack of anywhere to sit down. There was plenty of shouting, both on and off the pitch, but with little of it directed at the ref. I like that.

Wanderers were the better side, but it was competitive until the last ten minutes when two late goals sealed a three-nil win.

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Seaton Carew v Durham FC Corinthians, Saturday 27th January 2024, 2pm

August 5, 2024

After the latest European trip I had a few days back in the UK and took the opportunity to pop along to Hornby Park at Seaton Carew for an eleventh-tier game in the Wearside League Premier Division.

Seaton Carew is somewhere that I always associate with being at Hartlepool College of Further Education forty years ago. I was on ‘day release’ from work and if we didn’t spend our lunch break in the pub opposite the college, we would head in to Seaton Carew and play that Track and Field game in the arcades, the one where you made the character sprint by hammering down on a button as fast as you could.

Hornby Park seemed familiar too. I think it was the ground where my son played his first game for an under eights side. That was a wet day with a muddy pitch and he relished the sliding in that would likely result in a red card these days. Just like Hartlepool College, that, too, all seems such a long time ago.

Most of the spectators were loitering in the clubhouse and I was the first person to head out to the pitch. I was quickly followed by the fella who took the gate money and I handed over my three quid.

Industry provides the backdrop to the football. I should probably know what a lot of it is, but I’ve never really paid much attention to that sort of thing. There were some wind turbines out at sea, which I quite like. I accept that some people see them as an eyesore, but they’ll be gone when technology moves on and it will all return to how it looked for thousands of years.

This fixture was sixth v third, with Seaton in black and white and Durham in red and black. The home side got off to a great start with a goal in the first minute that they just about walked in. High winds made play difficult, but Durham seemed to adapt better by keeping the ball on the ground as much as possible.

Seaton looked to have clinched the points with quarter of an hour to go when the Durham keeper’s clearance bounced of the arse of a striker and was tucked away.

An away goal in added time direct from a corner created a bit of late interest but there wasn’t time for Durham to add to it and Seaton held on for the win.

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KS Tirana v Korabi Peshkopi, Wednesday 24th January 2024, 1pm

August 4, 2024

Albania is somewhere that I’d always wanted to visit. I remember Attila the Stockbroker rattling on about it forty years ago and it sounding like a place that appeared to be a further forty years back in time.

Life moves on though, and whilst I passed a roadside shepherd on my taxi ride from the airport to Tirana centre, everything else was just as you’d expect in a modern capital city.

The place was so spruced up that I wondered why so many Albanians head for England. I had a chat with a bloke in a market who sold me what he assured me was top quality wine, albeit in a plastic bottle. He reckoned that despite the appearances of being a place on the up, the economy was in a bad way. Three of his brothers had already moved to England to work in a car wash in Leyton and he had firm plans to join them.

I had a choice of games in the last sixteen of the Cup, unfortunately both taking place at the same time.  A barber that I went to suggested that I see his team, Partizan. They are the big club in town, but have a modern stadium and were an arse on to get to. Instead, I picked KF Tirana who were within walking distance of my hotel and play in a ground built in the mid-fifties.

I got there early. Too early, as it happened, as the ticket office hadn’t opened. I killed a bit of time with some lasagne for lunch before returning to hand over three hundred Leks for a ticket in the main covered stand. That’s two and a half quid.

I paid a further twenty leks for a paper wrap of blackened sunflower seeds from an old fella with a bike outside the entrance. When I look at the photo now, I reckon that he was younger than I am. FML as the bairns say. I usually like sunflower seeds, particularly if I’m not the one sweeping up, but removing the husks from these was a chew on. Literally. I tried eating the whole lot for the extra fibre but soon gave in.

It seemed as if just the one, covered, stand was open, with the rest of the ground empty. There was a grassy area behind each goal and that space to my left had been used for car parking. It reminded me of Stamford Bridge back when we relegated them.

The pitch looked as if it had been used as a car park too, with plenty of faded and bald areas.

Tirana were in white with Korabi in a red and white kit. The home side went in front just before the half-hour mark with a headed finish from a floated free-kick. It’s a shame they couldn’t have taken their time over it as two minutes later twenty Tirana ultras arrived in the corner to my right, on the far side. They were dressed mainly in black, hung up their ‘Tirana Ultras Forever’ banner and let off some flares.

At half-time they cleared off again. Perhaps their late arrival and early departure was some form of protest. Or maybe it’s just the latest ultra fashion. Who knows? At least they saw a goal in their short time watching as Tirana had added a second on the break.

I did spot a few of them sheepishly coming into our stand during the second half, presumably having made whatever point they were making. Tirana added a third shortly after the restart and that’s the way it finished.

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SSD Vis Pesaro v Carrarese Calcio, Sunday 21st January 2024, 6.30pm

August 4, 2024

Pesaro is a seaside town with an old centre and some interesting buildings. There wasn’t a great deal going on out of season, but it was fine for a wander around. On Sunday morning I stumbled across a flea market and whilst there were all sorts of things that I could easily have bought, I limited myself to a few records and a couple of table lamps which the fella had to rewire and, to my surprise, actually worked when I got home.

The main reason I’d picked Pesaro though was that there was a third-tier Serie C fixture on the Sunday evening at the Stadio Tonino Benelli. It’s home to Vis Pesaro, holds just under five thousand and is approaching its centenary, although it was tarted up around ten years ago.

It was an easy walk from my hotel and whilst I initially couldn’t find the entrance for my twenty-five euro seat in the Tribune Central, two friendly coppers were happy to give me directions.

Less friendly were the home fans drinking outside the ground. I’d taken what I thought was a discreet snapshot when I heard shouting. I ignored it until it got so loud that I had to turn around. By that time a couple of fellas had run up the street to tell me that it was forbidden to photograph ‘ultras’. They demanded that I delete the evidence of their existence with the sort of whinging usually reserved for when their Mam’s don’t serve spaghetti hoops for tea.

I made a show of deleting a picture, safe in the knowledge that I’d another couple of shots in the bank and went on my way.

Once inside I bought a proper espresso for a euro and was given a free team sheet and a two page A2 programme. Most people used them as protection from the pigeon shit on the seats. At half time I got myself a Heineken, just because I could, and took pleasure in drinking it at my seat.

I was in the stand that catered for old people and kids. The away fans from Carrarese were penned in to my right and the main home singing section, including those whose souls I had captured and now owned, was opposite.

This was a promotion clash with Pesaro in sixth and Carrerese two places above. Both teams managed to hit the bar and the keepers acquitted themselves well but ultimately neither side could make the breakthrough and it finished goalless.

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AC Libertas v SP La Fiorita, Saturday 20th January 2024, 3pm

August 3, 2024

With Jen still away in America I thought I might as well head off abroad again and planned a trip that would enable me to tick off San Marino and Albania as countries where I’d seen a match. As San Marino doesn’t have an airport of it’s own, I flew into Bologna on the Friday night and then drove to Pesaro. It was all cheap enough as not many people holiday in Pesaro in January. Or, I suspect, any other time of the year.

Next morning I drove up into the hills for a fixture in the Campionato Sammarinese di Calcio, which is the top tier of domestic football in the principality. I forget what town the game was in, but there were some spectacular views from the windy roads as I gained height. Interestingly, there were no border posts, so presumably everyone who lived nearby had unlimited tax-free shopping opportunities.

I tried to get some lunch in a bar, but it was one of those places where everyone stares at you when you enter. As there were no chairs available, I turned around and walked straight back out. There was a café in a small shopping arcade nearby and they had some giant ravioli that I think may have come out of the fryer. I couldn’t fault it.

The game was down the hill on the other side of town at the Campo Sportivo di Fiorentino, home of AC Libertas. I had to park a few hundred yards further down the hill and walk back up.

It was free to get in and I took a seat in a small, covered stand. There wasn’t really any choice as spectators were only permitted on one side of the pitch. The only other option was watching from outside the ground, from the road. I had a wander out there in the second half and it, too, was a decent view. There were probably around sixty spectators in total, in and out of the ground.

Visitors La Fiorita were top of the league and in line for Champions League qualification. They took the lead after half-an-hour with a scrambled effort that had the home fans grumbling.

As befitted their status as league leaders, La Fiorita were the better side. Their captain, Gasperoni, who sounds more like a brand of Italian cigarettes than a footballer, ran the show.

The floodlights came on at half-time and as the sun started to disappear the temperature dropped. Once the last remnants had slipped below the horizon it was cold enough to see people’s breath.

By that time La Fiorita had added another two goals to take the points in their quest for that Champions League spot.

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Almeria v Girona, Sunday 14th January 2024, 2pm

August 3, 2024

The last game of this Spanish trip was in Almeria for a La Liga clash with surprise package Girona. I’ve been to more than sixty grounds in Spain but most of them are lower tier clubs.  I’ve added a few top-flight grounds more recently though and with the aid of the futbology App I was pleased to see that I’m now on fourteen of the current twenty.

It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive to Almeria from Fuengirola. I parked  twenty minute’s walk  away from the Estadio de los Juegos Mediterraneos and by following a couple of blokes who looked as if they were going to the match I made my way to the stadium through an industrial estate.

I’d already bought a ticket online for fifty euros. Top flight football is expensive in Spain, although I can recall paying as much as that, and occasionally more, nearly twenty years ago when I was living in Ferrol.

There were some good food options around the perimeter of the ground but the queues were long enough to deter me and I ended up with a chorizo baguette from the concourse instead. It was ok, but I should have joined a queue outside.

Girona have a couple of ex-Boro player’s in their ranks. You’ll know about Stuani, who has reached legendary status with the Catalonians, but you’ve likely forgotten about Espinosa. I certainly had. To save you googling him, he played a handful of games for us in Karanka’s Premier League season. Anyway, Stuani was on the bench and Espinosa wasn’t. That was because he’d actually signed for some Colombian team a few days earlier. So just the one ex-Boro player at Girona.

With the game being an early kick-off, Girona would have gone top with a win. Almeria were rooted to the bottom of the table, so far adrift that I don’t think any result would prevent them from dropping into the second tier at the end of the season.

There was a pre-match round of applause for the police. As they were lined up with their batons and guns looking into the crowd the clapping was pretty much unanimous. The stadium had a lot of space between the pitch and the stands. If the pitch were lowered, then another few rows of seating could have been added to fill the gap.

Somewhat surprisingly, Almeria had the best of a goalless first half. Stuani made an appearance twenty minutes into the second half but failed to perform his usual heroics. One of his teammates picked up a red card for a DOGSO challenge ten minutes from time and I suspect that Girona were content with the point after that.

Despite the lack of goals, it was an enjoyable game, and a point a piece seemed scant reward for each team’s efforts.

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Cordoba v Intercity, Saturday 13th January 2024, 4pm

August 2, 2024

This was a third-tier Primera Group Two game at the New Arcangel stadium. New presumably to differentiate it from the previous Arcangel stadium, as it is now over thirty years old. Mind you, the Riverside will be thirty years old next year and I see that as new. If I’m still alive in twenty years time I wonder whether I’ll still feel the same.

It was fifteen euros for a seat in the Preferencia stand, the biggest one in the twenty-five thousand capacity ground. It was less than half-full though, so clearly visitors Intercity weren’t much of an attraction.

I’d been keen to see former Boro player Emilio ‘Ain’t nobody like’ Nsue turn out for Intercity. Sadly, there was nobody like Nsue on the team sheet as he was away playing for Equatorial Guinea in the African Cup of Nations. He won the Golden Boot in that tournament before being banned by his country for misbehaving and then by FIFA for having never been eligible to play for them in the first place. Shame they couldn’t have banned him a bit earlier so he would have been available for this game.

This was a promotion clash, with Cordoba in the play-off spots and Intercity just below. The home side took the lead mid-way through the first half when a ball from the right was steered home. That was the cue for some scarf twirling from all four stands.

That reminds me. When the grandkids were small, we discussed what happens if kids are late for school these days. Nothing, apparently. I recalled to them, perhaps not entirely truthfully, that back in my day one of the teachers had a dead otter whose insides had been removed, replaced with stones and then stitched back up. If you hadn’t made it inside by the time the bell went, the teacher would twirl the preserved corpse above his head and then bludgeon you with it as you entered the classroom.

Even now that they are teenagers, I just have to twirl an imaginary aquatic mammal above my head, and they’ll know that we need to get a move on.

Anyway, I digress. That first half goal was the only one of the game and the win kept Cordoba in line for promotion to the second tier. Maybe Intercity will get there too now that Nsue can focus on his club football.

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Seneca U16 v Cordoba U16, Saturday 13th January 2024, 1.30pm

August 2, 2024

Cordoba is a couple of hour’s drive inland from Fuengirola and a third-tier fixture was sufficient to draw me in. I arrived with more than three hours to spare and after picking up a ticket went for a wander around. I’d seen another ground on the map that I’d looked at and so headed that way first. Just in case.

As sometimes happens, I got lucky. There was a game going on at the Campo Enrique Buga, on the new artificial pitch rather than the adjacent grass pitch with the derelict stand. It was five euros to get in and after finding a spot on the concrete steps along one side I was informed that it was an under-sixteens game between Seneca and Cordoba. Seneca were the home team and wore a red and black kit, whilst visitors Cordoba were in white. 

I’d arrived a few minutes into the first half, with the game still goalless. The fella who had told me the teams was keen to know who I supported. When I told him he smiled and dropped Mendieta into the conversation. I was impressed with that, but not as much as when he went on to mention Kike. Presumably Garcia and not Sola. That would have been some level of knowledge.

Seneca were the better side and opened the scoring early on with a shot from outside of the box. They soon added a second, a scrambled effort following a corner. They went three up midway through the first half when the Cordoba keeper misjudged a cross enabling someone to head home into an empty net.

I bailed out at half-time as I wanted to get something to eat before the main game. I did a lap of the ground and as I passed the ticket office for the second time that afternoon, people were still handing over their five euros and heading into the game.

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VV Vierpolders v SC Botlek, Friday 12th January 2024, 12.30pm

August 1, 2024

The next winter-break game was a little closer than my trip the previous day to the Gibraltar border. It was at the Polideportivo Benalmadena Pueblo, which is just on the edge of Benalmadena and about a twenty-minute drive from where I was staying in Fuengirola. I did think about walking it on the basis that I could pretty much follow the coast for most of the way, but it was two and a half hours in each direction, and it looked like there might be a storm at some point.

I found the ground easily enough and there was plenty of parking. Not surprising really for a game between two amateur teams from the Dutch sixth tier. I’m not really sure why they felt the need to drag their arses all the way to Spain, unless the tour was more for drinking than fitness. Even then, you’d have thought that they might just have gone to Belgium.

The game kicked off early. There’s no point in hanging around I suppose when there’s supping to be done. It seemed like I was the only person there to watch and I took a seat in the main, and only, stand along one side. The price I paid for a seat was having to watch the game through a fence.

Vierpolders were in blue and black, with Botlek in white and blue. The Vierpolders kit clashed with that of the officials and so the ref wore a pink bib. It all looked very small-time. One of the keepers was in an old-school mismatched strip of brown shirt with white shorts and socks. It was as if he’d brought his own kit with him. Perhaps he did.

Highlight of the first half was a woman walking past my stand with a black and white Jack Russell. You don’t often see that breed of dog without a bit of tan colouring in there somewhere. I didn’t make a note of the score and the only goal I can remember now came from a defensive mix up early on. It brought some cheers from a balcony in the main building to my right, revealing a few other spectators who had reluctantly appeared from the bar not long after kick-off. Presumably they were part of the touring party and had opted for a beer rather than a run out.

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