Archive for the ‘Football’ Category

Vietnam U21 v Singapore U21, Sunday 5th June 2016, 4.45pm

October 9, 2016

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I have to work Saturdays in my new job, although I’ve plans to change that. One of the drawbacks is that it tends to prevent us from going away for the weekend, unless it’s to somewhere close by. Fortunately Melaka is only about an hour and twenty minutes drive away from where we live and so we decided to spend a Saturday night there.

It was dark by the time we arrived and so there wasn’t much to see until the next morning. After breakfast we had a walk along the side of a river from our hotel to the main tourist area at Jonker Street.

That part of Melaka is a picturesque enough place, with a lot of multi-coloured buildings dating back to when the Portuguese were running the show. Jonker Street was busy, mainly with coachloads of Chinese tourists who all seemed determined to eat in the same café. Whilst the main street was bustling, all you had to do for some peace and quiet was to make your way one street back and if it wasn’t for the noise in the background you wouldn’t know that there was anyone around.

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It was a fair drive to the Hang Jebat Stadium on the outskirts of the city and as we had plenty of time in hand I called into a barbers. He did a decent job with the haircut before getting carried away with a head massage. I’m not sure heads ever need massaging and I’m certain that they don’t need the sort of massage that consists of violent slaps. As the barber had access to a cut-throat razor I just smiled politely as my brain rattled around in its cerebrospinal fluid.

We arrived at the Hang Jebat Stadium to find that it was as quiet as the areas off Jonker Street and it was apparent that the U21 Nations Cup hadn’t captured the public’s imagination. Cant see why, surely a double header featuring the youngsters from Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam and Singapore was just the way to spend a Sunday evening?

I suppose it’s possible that everyone was staying away until the later game featuring the host country, but as we waited outside until ten minutes before kick-off in the first match it looked as if the crowd for the first game of the day might not reach double figures.

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We bought the posh twenty ringgit tickets that entitled us to a seat in the main stand and were quite a good deal at three quid, especially when you consider that we could have stayed for the second game too.

We also bought a yellow and black stripey Malaysia shirt for our grandson, Harry. It was less than a couple of quid, which is roughly the amount of change that you get from forty pounds when buying a Boro shirt  for a five-year old at the Riverside Stadium shop.

The ticket temporarily seemed less of a bargain when the stewards directed us into the section of open terracing behind the goal, but we eventually ended up in the upper tier of the main stand where we were able to find some shade.

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As the game kicked-off the crowd had swelled to about thirty, with just a couple of other people sharing our section. As the stadium has a capacity of over forty thousand that left plenty of room for stretching out.

Vietnam were in red, with Singapore in blue. Not a lot happened for most of the first half and whilst I like to think that I can appreciate teams keeping possession, it was all a bit tippy-tappy.

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Singapore took the lead just before half-time when a cross from the right was headed home from close range. There were some muted cheers from the section below us, suggesting that there might be some fans from Singapore in the ground. Although it’s probably more likely that it was one of the forty or so photographers and cameramen in attendance, grateful for something worth capturing.

When you added in the presence of the riot police, it did seem as if somebody, somewhere, had thought the Nations Cup to be an event that might just have been more popular than it turned out to be.

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Singapore increased their lead five minutes into the second half when a bit of skullduggery in a crowded box led to a penalty. It was slammed into the roof of the net, prompting  some chants of “Singer-pore, Singer-pore” from what sounded like six-year-old kids in the tier below.

Vietnam had a player who didn’t look much older than those fans. Maybe their kitman should have scoured the stalls outside for a two quid knock-off kit in the right size.

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A few minutes later we had a penalty at the other end and Vietnam pulled a goal back. This signaled the start of some impressive play-acting from Singapore to try to run down the clock. If ever there was an opportunity for the riot police to use their water cannon, then this was it.

It looked as though the time-wasting had been successful as Singapore were still in front as we started to make our way out on ninety minutes. I heard the shouts from the players and looked back to see Vietnam celebrating their equaliser.

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I wasn’t sure if they would play extra time or go straight to penalties, but either way I needed to be making tracks up the road. It’s busy on a Sunday evening, with people returning to Kuala Lumpur. I checked later and it turned out that the game went straight to penalties, although I can’t remember who won. Nor I suspect will anyone else.

UKM FC v Melaka SAMB FC, Sunday 22nd May 2016, 4.45pm

September 4, 2016

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After the previous week’s 9-a-side effort I was keen to see a proper game and what better than a third tier clash pitching the National University of Malaysia against the Melaka Water Corporation?

That morning we’d moved out of the hotel that we’d temporarily been staying in and into a house. A house that came complete with a permanently startled looking lizard.

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The move didn’t take much doing as these days we’ve pared our travelling stuff down to a suitcase full each and so after lunch we drove north for an hour to the Stadium Mini UKM at Bandar Bari Bangu. It was free to get in and we took seats in the single stand that held around five hundred. Or at least it potentially held five hundred. The visit of the men from the Water Board hadn’t really brought the crowds out and the stand was almost empty.

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Elsewhere in the ground we had a dozen or so travelling fans in a corner making plenty of noise with a couple of drums and another twenty spectators who had parked their cars on a hill on the opposite side of the pitch and were watching the game from there.

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The teams came onto the pitch to the sound of the Champions League walk-out music. Very professional, although it did seem a little over the top. There was no time for the teams to settle as within the first twenty seconds the Uni goalie had brought a Water Board striker down in the box.

The penalty was successfully dispatched to put the visitors a goal up.

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The lead didn’t last though and within ten minutes of going behind the students were level after someone poked the ball home during a goalmouth scramble.

I thought the standard was pretty decent, although I’ve no idea if the players really were all students or water board employees. Perhaps there were a few ringers on show. Regardless, the quality of play was a lot better than the Northern League games that I’d watched a couple of weeks earlier.

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At half-time I bought a burger and a hot dog for a combined total of less than a quid. They were both quite good. They didn’t seem to sell many though and it seemed as if most of the crowd were content to wait and then eat the remaining stock cold when it was given away towards the end of the game.

In the second half the visitors took control and went ahead  with a header from a corner before doubling their lead on the hour when a quick break left the home defence all over the shop and the ball was knocked into an empty net.

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The Water Board keeper made three good saves from chances where UKM should really have scored before letting a twenty-five yarder go through his hands and legs to reduce the deficit. That’s the way it finished.

Teluk Kemang FC v Bandar Sungala, Sunday 15th May 2016, 11am

September 3, 2016

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The day after the promotion party and only twelve days after we’d left Australia, Jen and I went back around the globe to Malaysia for my new job. It’s a place that we’d visited before, during a Lunar New Year trip to Kuala Lumpur a few years ago.

This time though we are out in the sticks in the small town of Lukut. There’s just the one decent bar but it sells Tiger beer and lamb chops and I don’t need much more than that.

The drive to work takes me through some sparsely populated areas where monkeys sit under the palm trees and stray dogs loiter by the side of the road, causing my foot to hover over the brake. I saw a tortoise successfully cross the road the other day, albeit at a faster pace than I’ve seen one move before.

Not so lucky was a big lizard. A very big lizard. Big enough at three or four feet long to probably not be a lizard at all and to be something else entirely. Maybe his granny had got jiggy with  a crocodile. I imagine that this sort of road-kill will become commonplace before long but the first one was interesting enough for me to stop the car and take a photo. I suspect even the monkeys thought I was weird for doing that.

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Port Dickson is the next town along and a little busier so for my first day off we decided to check it out. As luck would have it we stumbled across a football game at the Padang Merdeka stadium. Or rather, an entire tournament.

The stadium had a 3G pitch as I think they are known. Or maybe I’m getting mixed up with phones. Who knows? Anyway, it was artificial rather than grass. There was a big stand down one side and a smaller one down the other. Both were filled predominantly with players from the other teams.

The odd thing though was that it was only nine a side. It was a full-size pitch and each team had subs. Why on earth wouldn’t you just play proper football? The quirk in the rules meant that I couldn’t count it as a stadium that I’d visited under my own ‘groundhopping’ rules which require it to be a ‘proper’ game. I agonised for a while over whether watching a nine-a-side game was any different from watching an eleven-a–side match where both teams had suffered a double sending off.

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In the end I concluded that it wasn’t a proper match and that it wouldn’t count. Although I suspect that my decision was heavily influenced by the thought that it would be easy enough to return in the near future and tick the ground off properly.

Teluk Kemang were in red whilst Bandar Sungala were in orange and blue. I only know the team names because I got a local lad to write them down for me. His act of kindness earned him a piss-taking from his mates due to him speaking English to me.

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When we return for a proper game, he’ll no doubt think twice about getting involved. For what it’s worth, Bandar Sungala clinched the victory with a last-minute goal and I squashed no lizards either on the way there or on the way back.

Middlesbrough v Brighton and Hove Albion, Saturday 7th May 2016, 12:30pm

August 15, 2016

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Well, what do you know? We only went and did it.

A year on from that non-performance at Wembley a draw at home to Brighton in the last game of the season was enough to secure our return to the Premier League seven years after it slipped away that afternoon at West Ham.

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I’d bought tickets for the game as soon as I knew I was leaving Australia and long before the inevitable sell-out. Tom and I were in the South Stand, to the side of the goal nearest the Brighton fans.

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I’ve never been to a Boro game, or any game for that matter, where the support was so intense and where the singing was non-stop despite the tension of the occasion. It wasn’t like Eindhoven where most of us peaked too early and failed to play our part, or Wembley on just about any visit you can think of when it was either more about just being there or an early setback knocked us back. Or both.

It wasn’t like Cardiff where the team did their bit early on and then left us to bite our fingernails for almost an entire match. This was so different to any of those times. It was a crowd playing their part and providing the background for the lads on the pitch to get us over the line.

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If ever a lull in the noise threatened, a Red Faction-led chorus of “Follow, Follow, Follow” filled the potential void to the extent that the words were still resounding through my head days later. Even as the board was held up showing an additional eight minutes, the support never wavered.

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As we entered the final seconds I felt a few tears in my eyes. Sometimes it means more than you realise. I tend not to get emotional when it goes badly; I was able to put last season’s play-off defeat behind me before the game had finished and within an hour or two was already looking ahead to this season rather than dwelling upon what might have been in different circumstances. This was another matter altogether.

The whistle blew and Tom and I hugged. My thoughts went back to our last promotion eighteen years earlier. Tom and I had been in the West Stand for that one, me in my thirties rather than my fifties and him just eight years old and in serious danger of having someone’s eye out with his flag.

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I’ve enjoyed being in the Championship with trips to some of the so-called ‘less-fashionable’ grounds and in the last couple of years it was nice to win a few games.

But it’s good to be back. Back in the big time.

Stokesley Sports Club v Thornaby, Monday 2nd May 2016, 11am

August 13, 2016

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The Bank Holiday games in the Northern League tend to start a bit earlier than the regular three o’clock kick-offs. It makes a lot of sense as it still leaves enough of the day to do other things afterwards.

A quick scan of fixtures revealed that Stokesley were at home to Thornaby and as Jen and I were staying just down the road in a cottage at Ingleby Greenhow it seemed an ideal choice.

We’ve stayed at Ingleby a couple of times now. It’s quiet, but close enough to Norton to make doing the family stuff easy enough. Being out in the countryside makes it interesting for the grandkids too and they revelled in talking to the sheep and horses, poking a dead pheasant and chasing rabbits down the long driveway.

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It was also handy enough for Jen and I to do a bit more of the Cleveland Way and we hiked from Clay Bank to Osmotherley and back over a couple of days.

The weather was fine and whilst I tend to prefer the coastal sections of the trail, the mix of woodland and open moors, together with the views of Teesside made both days decent walks.

Mind you, we probably could have done with an earlier start on the second day as we ended up coming down off the moors in darkness.

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The weather was less impressive for the game at Stokesley’s ground, with strong winds and the odd spot of rain. It was five quid to get in and the bloke on the gate apologised for being sold out of programmes. He generously offered to post one to me, but as I’m trying to give up accumulating stuff that will never see the light of day again I very politely fucked him off.

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I made my way around to the far side of the ground just as the game began, passing a dog with a burst football in its mouth. I’m not sure that it’s particularly wise to bring to a dog with that sort of hobby to a match.

I’m not a fan of Banning Orders, mainly on the basis that we have sufficient proper laws to deal with football-related skullduggery, but I’d find it hard to oppose one for the owner if Fido decided to add to his popped Mitre Multiplex collection.

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Thornaby were in blue shirts that were way too big for most of their players. The blustery conditions meant that the wind kept getting trapped inside of them. Part of me wanted the wind to pick up further on the off-chance that some of the lighter members of the visiting team might get literally carried away.

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Spurred on by the presence of a bumper bank holiday crowd of forty-seven (and a dog), Stokesley took the lead on the half-hour. I was quite surprised as they hadn’t been doing at all well this year and weekly hammerings had left them well adrift at the foot of the table and long-since relegated.

In fact, in what I’d assumed to be a reasonable form guide, they’d suffered at nine-one defeat to Thornaby in the reverse fixture, just the previous week.

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Normality was restored before the break with two Thornaby goals and with the rain getting heavier I took my eighty pence cup of coffee into the covered stand for the second half.

A few visiting fans with their blue and white scarves had made the trip from Thornaby and they were rewarded as the visitors extended their lead to an eventual four-two victory.

That was it for the for the season for those two teams. That was also it for the Northern League as far as Stokesley are concerned as they will start next season in the not quite so prestigious Wearside League. I doubt it will make much difference to the dog.

Tow Law Town v Crook Town, Saturday 30th April 2016, 3pm

July 31, 2016

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A couple of days after arriving in the UK, Jen and I had a drive out to Tow Law for their derby with Crook Town in the second division of the Northern League. I don’t think I’ve ever been to Tow Law before and it was a lot more pleasing on the eye than I’d imagined it to be.

Whereas I’d been expecting somewhere run-down, with polystyrene take-away trays blowing down a deserted high street, it was actually a pleasant little town with plenty of countryside around it. More green than the grey that I’d anticipated.

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The Ironworks Road ground dates back to 1893 although the ironworks that it is named after had actually closed a good ten years or so earlier than that. I’m not sure how much of the ground is original, although the fella that took our fivers to get in reckoned that the ‘step-on’ turnstile might very well have been.

There were plenty of options for viewing the game and we initially stood behind the goal at the end where we had come in. When the rain that had threatened for a while finally arrived we moved to the stand behind the dugouts.

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A good proportion of the sixty or so crowd had the same idea, with a few kids seeking shelter at the far end in the standing enclosure with a small roof on it. A handful of older blokes braved the drizzle on the terracing opposite us, whilst one or two fans tucked in close to the walls of the changing rooms.

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I was a bit disappointed with the standard of play, although I seem to think the same thing every time I go to a Northern League game. Surely the technical ability of the players should be so much higher these days with the academy system. Whilst I’ve no idea if any of the players were ex-pros, you’d think that most of them would have been in academies for some of their formative years. If so, it didn’t show.

Tow Law created plenty of the chances and the Crook goalie managed to somehow get out of the way of most of them. He had a signature move of quickly dropping to his arse whenever a shot was fired in, as if he was playing Musical Bumps.

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If only the keeper been as successful at getting out of the way of the barber he might not have ended up with a curly perm on the top inch of his head with the remainder shaved to the bone.

At half time I got myself a coffee and some chips from the window near to the turnstiles and we had a chat with a bloke who had brought a wooden rattle. He was younger than us, so it wasn’t as if he’d had it since the nineteen fifties or whenever they were popular. I doubt you’d get into the Boro with a device like that these days.

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We watched the second half from the terracing on the opposite side to the stand. It meant that we got to hear the linesman keeping the players straight as to what they were doing wrong. He’d quite happily point out to a whining centre-half that “you played him on” or that “the full-back didn’t step up”.

At one point he got into a shouty exchange with a coach over the hand signals that he had used to indicate that a player had returned from a previously offside position. I suspected that the most recent offside change that the other fella was aware of was when it changed from three defenders to two, back in the days when the Ironworks still had that lingering smell of fresh paint.

The officiating was all very impressive, but wasted on those players and coaches. I doubt I’d have had the inclination or the patience to explain my decisions. Nor, come to think of it, the stamina to run up and down the line.

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It wasn’t much of a contest, with Tow Law being five goals up by early in the second half. They could probably have had more but a few of the home players looked happy to see the season out at a canter.

The excitement levels perked up towards the end when with all of the Crook Town subs used, or more likely, an incomplete bench to begin with, an injured outfield player had to swap positions with Mr. Musical Bumps. The change made little difference, apart perhaps from reducing the opportunities for the original goalie to have a bit of a sit down.

Tow Law rounded off the afternoon with a sixth goal before the end and brought their season to a close. It wouldn’t be overly harsh to suggest that for some of the Crook players, the season had finished long before kick-off.

Casuarina v Litchfield, Saturday 9th April 2016, 12.30pm

July 7, 2016

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All of the Darwin area local football leagues start up again in April and this game was the first in the Women’s League.

Despite the lunchtime start, Jen and I had plenty of time to pay a visit to the Crocodylus Park on the outskirts of Darwin, which as you might have suspected, is a park full of crocodiles. If you’ve ever been to Gatorland in Florida, it’s a bit like that, although you couldn’t feed the inmates with raw sausages at Crocodylus in the way that you can at its American counterpart. Possibly because sausages, or ‘snags’ as they call them over here are too highly regarded in Australia to be lobbed at reptiles.

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We did watch a keeper feeding the crocs and we got to hold a small one with its mouth taped up, so it was a worthwhile morning. They had other stuff too, a few lions, some dingoes and a colony of meerkats. I could watch meerkats all day.

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We had to pay ten dollars to watch the women’s match which is probably the first time that either of the teams had played in a game with an admission charge. It was because the game was taking place on the Larrakia pitch nr 2, which shared an entrance gate with the main pitch and which was hosting the final game in the East Timor Cup later that day.

One team was in red and the other in black and white squares. I should really have asked someone which team was which, but to be honest, I wasn’t interested. The black and white team were the stronger and in the first twenty minutes or so the ball was rarely in their half.

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I counted eleven spectators, including a bloke who was videoing proceedings and so I suspect had some sort of connection to one of the teams. If not, he was a sucker for punishment as it was bad enough having to watch the game live, never mind the thought of watching it all again at home.

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The Number 2 pitch backed onto the main stadium and whilst you could have watched the game from the rear of the big stand facing the other way, a small ‘bus shelter’ stand was provided. It probably held fifty, which was more than ample for today’s attendance.

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The red keeper made a couple of decent saves before the black and whites went a goal up. I’d had enough before we even got to half-time as the standard was probably poorer than any game I’ve ever seen.

No shame in that though and it’s good to see people enjoying themselves. For half an hour so at least anyway.

Dili Benfica v Kupang, Friday 8th April 2016, 7.30pm

July 6, 2016

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After six months without any local football, it was all starting to take off. The Timor Sea Cup is an annual U17 event between teams from countries that I imagine have some sort of connection to the Timor Sea. A bit vague, I know, but do you really care? It’s a football match and it was taking place at the nearby Larakia Stadium.

Kick-off wasn’t until the evening and so Jen and I decided to spend the day at the Territory Wildlife Park.

It’s called a wildlife park but I suppose it’s really a zoo, although quite a good one, with decent paths between the enclosures and some areas, like the bird place, where you can walk through with it seeming big enough for not for them to appear unduly restricted.

As with everywhere in Australia there were plenty of spiders and we spotted these two dangling over water that had crocodiles in it. I imagine crocodiles were the least of the smaller spider’s worries.

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We did one of those behind the scenes tours and got lucky by being the only two people there. I got to handle a lizard thing with a blue tongue. It didn’t seem too bothered about me, but I was a little worried that I might drop it and bring the tour, and possibly the lizard, to a premature end. My sister dropped a tortoise when she was a kid and cracked it in half. Even the newly invented superglue wasn’t able to save it.

We were able to go into one of the enclosures in the nocturnal house where we hand fed an owl with minced mice and then gave syringes of sugar solution to some little chipmunk type creatures. At times we had two of them feeding simultaneously whilst a third sat waiting.

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As it grew dark we drove over to the Larakia Stadium for the second fixture in the Timor Sea Cup. The previous night the ground had hosted the opening fixture in the three team round robin, a one-sided 10-0 victory by a Northern Territory select over Dili Benfica of East Timor.

With Dili making a re-appearance that evening against Indonesian side Kupang I wasn’t sure whether I wanted a more even contest than the previous night or whether I fancied watching through my fingers as Dili took an even bigger hammering.

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The early impressions suggested that Kupang might emulate the Northern Territory scoreline. They had more time on the ball, pressed the opposition better and their players looked a lot more physically developed than the East Timor team.

Kupang failed to make their advantage count though and it was still goalless at half-time. I looked around the crowd and got the impression that, with the exception of the fella to our right who moaned non-stop about the price all evening, Jen and I were probably the only ones who had paid the necessary ten dollars to get in. Everyone else appeared to be either a player, an official or accompanying one.

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The second half had more going on with Dili scoring against the run of play not long after the re-start. Unfortunately the East Timor keeper let one through his legs soon after and Kupang quickly followed their equaliser with another couple of goals.

It looked like Kupang might run away with the game at that stage, but Dili pulled one back to set up an interesting final few minutes.

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Dili had a glorious chance to take a point in the dying seconds but a tame shot went straight to the keeper and that was that.

A five-nil win for Northern Territory over Kupang the following evening gave the Australian team the trophy, with Kupang taking second place and Benfica Dili finishing third and last.

Football Without Borders v Congolese Community FC, Saturday 2nd April 2016, 3pm

July 6, 2016

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Six months after arriving in Darwin, the local football season was finally about to start and with the pitches freshly mown and the nets up a local charity or two took the opportunity to hold a fund-raising game at the Gray Football Stadium in Palmerston.

The game fell in a busy weekend. We’d been to the baseball the previous night and spent the following day at the Litchfield National Park. Litchfield is definitely worth a visit if you are in the Darwin area. It’s about an hour’s drive and there are three or four decent waterfalls that have walking trails up to and around them.

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One of the waterfalls had a trail that didn’t appear to be as well used as the others and so even on a busy Sunday it was possible to wander around as if we had the park to ourselves.

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We didn’t see much in the way of wildlife. The highlight was probably a six-inch long lizard of some sort. I’m rubbish at lizard identification, maybe it’s a gecko. Who knows? Not me, I’m sorry to say.

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We also saw plenty of spiders and fortunately for identification purposes there were numerous boards dotted around to give me some assistance. The one in the photo is a female Golden Orb spider.

We saw a few females, often with half a dozen much smaller males sharing the same web. Apparently the fellas were just biding their time and waiting for a chance to get one or more of their legs over, after which they were likely to end up as a post-coital snack. I’m sure we’ve all been in relationships like that at one time or another.

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The game at Gray Stadium was quite well attended with probably a hundred or so people turning out to raise awareness and hopefully some funds to be shared between the refugee and asylum seeker charity Football Without Borders and for community facilities for immigrants from Congo.

I only tend to listen to Australian radio if a taxi driver has it on and recently heard a phone-in where just about everyone was complaining that the country ‘was full’ and that immigration should be halted. Talk about pulling up the drawbridge. Back in the real world though, it was heartening to see the people of Darwin doing their bit for immigrants, refugees and asylum seekers.

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Football-wise, the standard was mixed. The Congo select had a decent defender at the back who swept up most of the Football Without Borders attacking moves. Elsewhere, there was a mix of triers and a few blokes who looked like they might have played regularly for teams in the past.

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The catering was good though and I had a chicken curry that went down well. I don’t recall seeing any beer for sale, but it was more of a family-style occasion with bouncy castles and the like for the kids. I was driving anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

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There were a few goals, but I wasn’t counting. If I recall correctly most of them were at the Football Without Borders end. I doubt that the refugees and asylum seekers in their team were too bothered. When your life takes that sort of turn then I imagine you develop a decent sense of perspective.

 

Home United v Young Lions, Thursday 17th March 2016, 7.30pm

July 3, 2016

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Jen and I ate pretty well during our time in Singapore. It would have been hard not to do so with Chinatown on our doorstep and Little India and Arab Street a short distance away. We had dinner with unlimited wine in a French place around the corner and tapas at a Spanish restaurant in a busy street at the back of our hotel that we didn’t stumble across until our last night.

There was also a food court nearby and within a few hours of arriving we’d already been told by two different people that there was one particular stall famous for its chicken-rice. As you might have suspected that’s chicken accompanied by rice. In this case, both boiled. The taxi-driver that took us into town from the airport claimed that he ate there every day.

With that sort of hard sell we had to give it a go. I can’t remember what time the stall opened, but fifteen minutes beforehand there was already a queue and apparently it sells out within a couple of hours. I think I’d be tempted to boil more chicken and rice if I were them, although knocking off two hours after getting to work does sound like an ideal shift.

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Anyway, it was cheap, it was chicken and it was rice. No more than that. I suspect these things take on a life of their own and become self-perpetuating. They even had a photo of Gordon Ramsay eating there. I was tempted to draw a little bubble coming out of his mouth saying “Fucking fuss over fuck all” but I understand they have strict sentences for that sort of thing in Singapore. I didn’t see our taxi-driver having his lunch either.

Whilst the chicken-rice was a bit ‘meh’ I was much more impressed with the eggs that we had for breakfast. There was a café nearby that served uncooked eggs in a jug of just-boiled water. You sat around drinking your coffee for fifteen minutes whilst the eggs cooked in front of you and then you cracked them open and dipped your toast into the yolks.

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Genius. Just enough arseing around to make it perfect for idling time away on your holidays. The café was opposite a temple that claimed to have one of Buddah’s teeth in a box. A Swan Vesta box I hope. It was very popular with the tourists and probably the tooth fairies as well.

As we waited for our eggs to cook we watched busloads of people photographing themselves outside a recently erected temple before going inside to gaze in awe at a box that may or may not have contained dental waste from someone who may or may not have existed.

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I told my Mam about the eggs and she said “You mean coddled?” I’d no idea if I meant coddled or not, but it turned out that I did. Apparently it’s nothing special and everyone did it in the olden days when they weren’t busy having a bath in a bucket in front of a coal fire or treating rickets by wrapping cabbage leaves around their knees.

That’s enough culinary stuff, time for football and the S-League game between Home United and Young Lions.

I took the MRT up to Bishan and then walked for five minutes across to the Bishan Stadium. There were a few fans hanging around outside, draining the last of their bottles of water before they were confiscated at the entrances. What’s the point? It turned out that they didn’t actually sell drinks inside, so it couldn’t be to protect their sales. In a climate where I’m likely to lose a couple of pints of sweat over the course of ninety minutes it would be nice to be able to replace some of it.

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I bought my five dollar ticket and found myself a seat in the two tier main and only stand. There was a running track between the stand and the grass pitch and I had a small group of ‘ultras’ with a drum to my right and near to the half-way line.

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There was a decent crowd when everyone eventually arrived with plenty of families and a few groups of young women, many of them wearing headscarves.

Home United were in red, with Young Lions, who are actually the Singapore U21 national team, in blue. It’s an interesting concept, letting a national development group play in the league. If it happened in England I imagine it would mean more game time for the young players and I’m sure their increased familiarity with each other would improve results in their age-group international games. It might even improve the prospects for the senior national team. I’m not sure what clubs and fans would think about it though. I’m not even sure what I think about it.

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Young Lions should have been in front after thirty seconds but the straightforward chance was lifted over the bar. The miss didn’t prove too costly as ten minutes later the Home Utd keeper came out of his box in an attempt to head the ball away only to collide with one of his defenders and allow a visiting striker to turn the ball into an empty net from twenty-five yards.

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The home side soon hit back when a fella with a top knot finished a cross from the left to equalise and then they took the lead with a left-footed free-kick curled in from the right that eluded everyone including the Young Lions keeper.

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At half time we were all allowed out to use the drinks machine at the nearby leisure centre, on the strict condition that we drank it all before coming back inside. Nobody checked any tickets so unless the stewards have a fantastic memory for faces it’s easy enough to watch second half soccer in Singapore for free.

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Home United increased their lead soon after the break with a strong header back across the keeper and then added a fourth close to the end after a bout of head-tennis in the box.

The grown-ups deserved their victory and the defeat kept Young Lions at the foot of the table and left me none the wiser as to whether playing age-group national teams in a domestic league was beneficial to anyone at all.