Middlesbrough v Blackburn Rovers, Saturday 6th February 2016, 3pm

May 29, 2016

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The home game against Blackburn was my first Boro game for a few months and for a change Tom and I sat in the South West corner. Thirty quid for a ticket would usually have struck me as expensive but as I’d been to see Peppa Pig with the grandkids that morning and with that costing fourteen quid for a three year old and sixteen quid for the accompanying adult, thirty quid for football seemed like a bargain.

I reckon adults should get in free to stuff like Peppa Pig, in the way that carers do with wheelchair fans at football. They do three shows a day, no doubt using aspiring Equity members on minimum wage. Somebody, somewhere is raking it in. Daddy Pig probably.  Still, the grandkids enjoyed it.

Earlier in the week Jen and I had done another thirty miles of the Cleveland Way, including the section with the Roseberry Topping detour in it. I’ve no idea how many times I’ve been up there but it’s always good to look down on Teesside from the top.

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Anyway, the game. We had a pint in The Central, but it was a bit crowded and with rain in the air we took a taxi up to the ground to do our pre-match drinking there. I was surprised to see that new signing Jordan Rhodes was only on the bench against his old club, but I suppose at least it meant that he wouldn’t be scoring against us.

We weren’t very good and it was only after Blackburn took the lead twenty minutes from the end that we showed any real intent to try to score. Rhodes came on and put himself about a bit, before Nugent equalised ten minutes from time.

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The draw took us level on points at the top with Hull.  I suppose with Burnley and Brighton still trailing us despite having played more games, it’s a good position to be in.

After the the successive defeats to Bristol City and Forest though, I can’t help feeling that we needed a win to get back on track.

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Tom and I hung about afterwards to watch Final Score before heading into town to catch the back end of the rugby in Dr Browns.

Ross County v Celtic, Sunday 31st January 2016, 3pm

April 2, 2016

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The second Scottish game of our UK trip was a league cup semi-final at Hampden Park. I hadn’t been too confident about getting a ticket, but applied online via Ross County and a couple of weeks later our tickets arrived in Australia. Twenty quid seemed decent value, particularly when compared with the thirteen pounds that I’d paid at the fourth tier game the day before this one.

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We took the train into Glasgow from Stirling and then walked for an hour or so in the direction of Hampden. Parts of Glasgow have been tarted up over recent years, but the area of the Gorbals that we walked through still looked pretty run down to me. I’m sure it will be better when some more of those tower blocks are gone.

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We got talking to a Celtic supporter who unsurprisingly was heading in the same direction. I quizzed him about Mowbray and it turned out that he wasn’t a fan. I suppose he was too young to be influenced by memories of him as a player in the way that I probably am. He rated Strachan though. Odd.

The best bit of the walk was passing the former ground of Third Lanark. The pitch is still there, but the terracing that remains has been overgrown with bushes and trees, with the barriers hidden among the undergrowth. It looks a perfect Sunday League location to me.

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Despite our walk we were still about half an hour early upon arriving at the stadium and after a tray of chips and cheese and a brief look at the Queens Park pitch outside, we went inside to keep out of the rain. Hampden looks very impressive after its renovation and if I’d waited until I’d got inside to eat I could have had a goat cheese tart.

The game was nowhere near sold out which surprised me a bit. I’d have thought that Celtic fans would have paid a lot more than the twenty quid admission for their regular games and I doubt a trip to Hampden was a regular occurrence for Ross County.

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With Ross County being the underdogs, I suppose I would probably have been hoping for them to upset the odds. As we were in their end we had a further reason to get behind them. The clincher though, was that they had not one, but two ex-boro players in their match-day eighteen.

Andrew Davies was captaining the Dingwall side. I remember him as the star of the youth team in the year or two before we won it. He played that night in the Olympic Stadium ten years ago when we qualified for the next round of the UEFA Cup at the expense of Roma. I’ve also got a slightly less clear recollection of him returning for a loan spell with us three or four years ago.

Jonathan Franks went to school with my kids. I remember him coming on a sub at Upton Park in our last game in the Premier League and him looking like a decent prospect for a while in the Championship. He started on the bench in this one.

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Davies wasn’t popular with the fella behind me who referred to him before the start as “a fucking liability” and was further incensed within a minute when a ball between the two County centre halves lead to an opening goal for Celtic.

It could have all turned sour after that but a penalty equaliser following a DOGSO sending off gave Ross County the advantage. Franksy appeared from the bench within the first half hour to replace a fella who looked as if he was making every effort to give the referee the chance to even up the numbers.

He did ok too, finding space on the right and making some good runs.

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The fella behind me was temporarily speechless when Davies headed back across goal for a team mate to put County into the lead, although he was quick to point out “oh, he’s a good header of the ball, just cannae defend”.

A third goal quickly followed for Ross County and Celtic never really looked like getting back into it.

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We didn’t stay for the presentation and the fun. It wasn’t really our place, although I do remember a first visit to Verona and driving around town after the game honking the car horn whilst Tom waved a flag out of the window as we got caught up in them clinching promotion.

Not this time though, Jen and I walked alongside the Celtic fans back to the railway station and were probably back in Stirling before the celebratory Buckfast was finished.

East Stirlingshire v Arbroath, Saturday 30th January 2016, 3pm

March 24, 2016

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If you were thinking that those team names don’t look very Australian then you’d have a fair point. Jen and I had popped back to the UK for a fortnight’s holiday and as the early part of the trip coincided with some Withered Hand gigs in Scotland we flew into Edinburgh and spent our first two nights in Stirling.

The flights had taken an arse-numbing total of thirty-seven hours but were redeemed by the unexpected bonus of flying over Ayres Rock. How good is that? I’d suspected that we might be somewhere near and I’d been eagerly keeping an eye out for it for a good half an hour before I spotted it. It’s just a big rock really, but an impressive big rock, nevertheless.

We also flew over Iran and some spectacular mountain ranges that were well worth seeing. I’m amazed by how few people look out of the windows on planes, I can’t imagine that any of the films would be better than mountain ranges or big rocks.

We landed at Edinburgh around lunchtime and by ten to three I was stood outside of the Forthbank Stadium in anticipation of the League Two clash between Stirling Albion and Montrose. I wasn’t expecting a large crowd for a fourth tier game but nor was I expecting to be the only person there. It took me back to being seven years old and standing at the locked gates of my primary school as a consequence of returning a day too soon after the Christmas holidays.

I’m less trusting these days and so the combination of no fans and locked gates was sufficient to convince me that the match probably wasn’t going to take place.  My suspicions were then confirmed by a bloke that I passed on the way back to the car.

I asked him if he could suggest a nearby alternative and he told me that his team, Stenhousemuir, plays not too far from Stirling but unfortunately were away that weekend. The good news though was that Stenhousemuir share their Ochilview Park stadium these days and if they were away then their tenants, East Stirlingshire, would likely have a home fixture. He told me to head for Falkirk and then turn right at Larbert. I followed his advice and twenty minutes later I’d paid my thirteen quid admission and was sat in the Norway stand for East Stirlingshire’s game with Arbroath.

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Thirteen quid for a standard of football that was unlikely to be up to that of the Northern League struck me as a bit steep. I suppose it’s just as well the Twenty’s Plenty campaign hasn’t reached Fife or it could have been worse.

Perhaps the price explained why the crowd was just over three hundred. Still, I’d seen Ayres Rock for free the day before, so you could say that these things balance themselves out.

I’d missed the opening quarter of an hour and Arbroath were already a goal up. The shouts of “Come on Shirey” already had an air of resignation to them. Bottom of the division Shirey were in black and white hoops whilst Arbroath, who weren’t far ahead of them in the League Two table, wore a maroon kit. The covered Norway stand was the only part of the ground open with the terracing to my left housing nothing but ballboys and piles of snow.

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The standard of play tended to reflect the attendance rather than the price of admission. It was typified by one of the home side’s full backs who had an uncanny knack of finding space, which whilst great when going forward is somewhat less beneficial when trying to defend.

Abroath’s winger, who I think was called Daz, stood out for the visitors. He brightened the day whenever he ran at the opposition with his teammates calling repeatedly, in the style of Alan Partridge, for a pass that rarely came.

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There was light drizzle throughout the remainder of the first half, which was surprising as I’d assumed that the temperature was below freezing. I was happy enough with that though after four months of heat and humidity in Darwin. As half time approached the rain was replaced with a hailstorm that drove me to shelter in the back row of the stand. Hardier souls than me continued to watch from the exposed areas closer to the front.

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I could have done with a warm drink at half-time but I was a little slow off the mark and would have had to queue in the driving hail behind what seemed like most of the other three hundred spectators. I’m starting to see the merits of taking a flask.

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There hadn’t been much excitement on the pitch for the home fans  and so they reserved their cheers for whenever the ball was miss-hit into the crowd and either caught someone unawares or else led to the sort of ball control that hadn’t been much in evidence among the players.

The biggest cheer of the day went to Daz, not for a mazy run, but for a tumble over one of the pitchside piles of snow. It was that sort of afternoon.

Arbroath added another couple of goals mid-way through the second half, the latter being celebrated by the handful of visiting fans with a song for the goalscorer to the tune of ‘Give It Up’. At that stage it looked like East Stirlingshire might just give it up and allow Arbroath to run riot, but they didn’t and three-nil was how it finished.

St Mary’s v Darwin Buffaloes, Saturday 23rd January 2016, 4pm

March 21, 2016

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Jen and I often walk past the Garden Oval if we are walking up the coast to somewhere like the East Point Nature Reserve. We follow the path by the sea until we get to the reserve where our interest is usually then focused on spotting wallabies and kangaroos.

I can’t tell the difference. I know kangaroos are eventually bigger, but there must be some stage in their development when they are wallaby sized. At the moment though, it doesn’t really matter to us which they are, it’s enough to get as close as we can to them in the wild.

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There’s a cemetery just before the Garden Oval. I like looking at graves, particularly old ones. I wouldn’t want one of my own though as I’m more of a fresh-air type of person. I’d rather have one of those Tibetan send-offs where they leave you out on a hillside for the birds to peck at. I suspect though that I’ll have to settle for cremation.

This cemetery has a grave with what looks like a stone dog kennel on top of it. I can’t make my mind up as to whether it’s a dog grave or somewhere for the occupant’s dog to have a kip in the shade whenever visiting his master’s final resting place. Either way, more graveyards should have them.

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As we approached the Oval we noticed that quite a few people had chosen not to pay the ten dollar entrance fee and had parked on the road alongside the perimeter fence and then set up their chairs on the pavement. It was a decent enough view and a big saving for a group of people with their own food and drink.

As we didn’t have any food or drink, or any chairs, ten dollars didn’t seem too bad a price and so we went inside.

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At the previous Aussie Rules game that we’d been to, the drinks kiosk sold nothing stronger than 3.5% beer. I was hoping for something with a little more body to it and after asking for their strongest beer was directed to the clubhouse where, I was told, they sold ‘heavy’ rather than the ‘mid’ and ‘light’ that the outdoor bar stocked.

As the club house also had air-conditioning we watched the first half of the game through the window whilst I worked my way through a few schooners of Carlton Draught.

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One of the teams went a bit wild in the opening minutes and quickly went three goals up, proper goals as well, the six point between the middle post versions that warrant that double finger-pointing gesture from the official at that end.

Despite the frantic action, I’m still not impressed by the sport. It seems the main tactic, apart from brawling with each other, is to try to catch the ball and, I think, call for a mark. That then allows the player with the ball to boot it elsewhere without anyone trying to rag him to the ground. If he is near enough to the posts then he gets to shoot unhindered.

We went outside for the second half and watched in the warmth of the main stand. There was a commentator somewhere behind us whose speed of speech matched the urgency on the pitch. At first I thought someone had the horse racing on the radio. Maybe I should have tried to listen and learn, but in reality anything that happened on the pitch was nothing more than an occasional interruption to the sitting and drinking in the sun.

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Whichever team was winning at the start stayed in front all the way through. The other lot pegged it back a little in the final quarter before then letting it slip to roughly the same distance behind that they were five minutes into the game.

I’m not convinced there’s actually any need to keep score in Aussie Rules. It seems a lot of work for the officials and scoreboard operators for very little benefit. I’d just let the players run around, randomly colliding with each other for two hours, then when its time to go home someone could sound the hooter to signal next goal the winner. That seems a lot easier.

Fannie Bay Racing, Saturday 2nd January 2016

March 6, 2016

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Horseracing is a popular activity in Australia with so many race courses that nobody seems able to count them. The information on the internet suggests that there are more than three hundred and sixty but less than four hundred. That seems a lot but it’s a big country, a big country where, would you believe it, there are flowers in the desert and you can see the sun in wintertime.

The nearest racecourse to us in Darwin is Fannie Bay. It’s a three-mile walk away along a coastal path and as I had a Saturday off work Jen and I had a wander up there.

We’ve walked the path a few times, generally going on to the Eastern Point nature reserve a couple of miles further on. The coastal aspect of the walk is good, it’s always enjoyable walking with the sea in view, but if you go as far as the nature reserve it gets even better as you can stalk kangaroos. We don’t often get closer than about thirty yards to them as they are fairly wary of humans. Maybe I should take some snacks for them.

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This time we were veering off to the racecourse and so the only wildlife of note that we saw were mud crabs. They are quite skittish too, but whilst most of them dash for their burrows when they see us, others decide just to sit perfectly still. They make for better photos. It’s a pity the kangaroos don’t try the same technique.

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It was ten dollars admission to Fannie Bay. If we’d been prepared to pay eighty dollars each we could have gone in the posh bit. Unfortunately the dress code stipulated no shorts or thongs. Thongs are flip-flops in Australia, meaning we didn’t need to have our undercrackers checked, but I’d have failed on the shorts rule anyway and so we had to leave the elite to watch the racing without us.

Our ten dollars entitled us to go just about anywhere we liked at ground level, including an air-conditioned bar and a betting hall. They had three bookies, all of whom wisely pitched up indoors in the cold rather than trackside.

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I like to watch the racing outside and so we took a table next to an outdoor bar and worked our way through a variety of bottled bears and ciders. None of them struck me as being particularly good; maybe I’m losing the taste for it.

After a while I visited a food kiosk for a snack.

“What are those?” I asked, pointing at a tray of something that I suspected might be mini sausage rolls.

“A dollar each” was the response from the lady behind the counter, leaving me none the wiser as to the content. They turned out to be spring rolls, filled almost exclusively with bamboo shoots. No wonder she was evasive.

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The races took place every half hour or so, but for those who wanted a bet every five minutes there was racing from around the rest of Australia shown on the screens. I think the programme listed close to forty races and a lot of people appeared to have an interest in all of them.

I suppose if you picked your horses and placed your bets in advance it would be ok, but I quite like the leisurely rhythm of get your beer, pick your horse, place your bet, move closer to the track to watch the race and then repeat on a half-hourly cycle. Of course, it would be better if the cycle included a return trip to the bookies to pick up some winnings but we drew a blank all day.

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Later in the day as the east coast racing concluded the television betting was supplemented by greyhounds and trap racing. It would have been a lot to keep on top of.

When it was over I’d hoped to find a taxi heading back into town as there’s a limit to how much walking in the sun is sensible. Unfortunately there were none to be seen and so we had to retrace our route along the coastal path and frighten the mud crabs for the second time in a day.

Western Sydney Wanderers v Brisbane Roar, Saturday 6th December 2015, 7.30pm

February 28, 2016

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The second A-League game of our trip to Sydney took us out to the suburb of Parramatta for the game between Western Sydney Wanderers and Brisbane Roar.

Parramatta was twenty-odd kilometres away from our hotel in the CBD and as we didn’t have a hire car we were reliant upon public transport. In this case that meant an hour-long ferry ride from the Circular Quay.

It was the sort of journey that you’d happily take just for the sightseeing rather than to actually get somewhere and as we set off we had both the Opera house and the Harbour Bridge in view. The Opera House was a lot smaller than I’d assumed it to be from when I’d seen it on the telly as the backdrop to the New Year fireworks.

We went to a gig there a few days later, not opera, although I wouldn’t have minded that if I’d been able to wear one of those collapsible hats, but Father John Misty. He was ok, better live than recorded, I’d say, with a nice line in self-deprecation over his newly announced Grammy nomination for the quality of the packaging of his latest LP.

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The Harbour Bridge was also smaller than I’d expected. Maybe it’s because these things are famous that I assume they’ll be enormous. You all know what it looks like, it’s just like the Tyne Bridge, which isn’t surprising really as both were built during the same era by Middlesbrough’s own Dorman Long.

As we passed beneath the bridge I looked up at the Teesside steel above me and reflected that the recent steelworks closures meant that there wouldn’t be any future opportunities for me to do the same somewhere new.

I did a bit of work as a contractor at British Steel thirty years or so ago and can remember the fire resistant jacket and trousers that I had to wear when in the vicinity of a furnace. The material was like carpet, which isn’t ideal for trousers. Or jackets either I suppose.

I sweated enough wearing them outside, but that was nothing compared to being indoors in the summer with a furnace blasting out its heat.

It’ll be young Chinese fellas who will have to dress up like that from now on and take their turn to point out their steel when travelling around the world.

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The ferry that we caught sometimes goes all of the way to Parramatta, but on this occasion it only went as far as the Olympic Park and so we then had to catch a couple of buses to get within walking distance of the Pirtek Stadium.

Neither driver would accept any cash from us, I think, as a consequence of the impending implementation of a card-only payment system. If all you had was cash, then you were just waved on-board for free.

Pirtek Stadium dates back to, well, quite a long time ago. Long enough for WG Grace to have played cricket there in the century before last. Or rather the site dates back that far. The current ground’s history only goes back forty years or so.

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There were plenty of people milling around with an hour or so to kick-off, many of them sporting the Dennis the Menace style shirts worn by Western Sydney Wanderers. We queued briefly to collect our pre-booked tickets, using my newly acquired Northern Territories Driving Licence as ID.

I like the idea of having two licences and am hoping that by using my Australian one when in the UK and vice-versa, I might very well be able to reduce the amount of penalty points that I accrue.

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On our way around the ground to the South Stand I was handed a leaflet by a bloke outside of the north terrace. He was a member of a fan’s group who were boycotting the game in protest at the banning of a number of ‘active’ fans.

It’s an A-League wide problem and the main complaint seems to be that the banned supporters had no chance to put evidence forward and no right of appeal. I sympathised with the cause, but my principles aren’t strong enough to miss a game at short notice after travelling from Darwin and with a ticket in my hand.

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We took our seats in the North Stand, opposite the deserted South where the ‘active fans’ would normally have been found. The ten thousand crowd half-filled the stadium but was around four thousand down on their gate from the previous game. On a selfish note, the boycott cut the queues for food and drink and so it was no trouble to get a couple of beers and a very fancy selection of three mini pies.

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The home side opened the scoring after half an hour when Mark Bridge knocked one in at the far post. The lead didn’t last for more than a few minutes though with Jamie McLaren equalising for the visitors.

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There were plenty of chances for both sides in the second half as play opened up, but the only other goal came ten minutes from time when Mitch Nichols curled in the winner. The result was sufficient to take Wanderers to the top of the table.

I’d have liked to have taken the boat back to the Circular Quay for the river view at night, but they’d stopped running and so despite the ‘free’ buses we opted for a taxi for the half hour drive back to our hotel.

Sydney FC v Newcastle Jets, Friday 4th December 2015, 7.40pm

February 20, 2016

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We chose Sydney as the location for our second trip in Australia on the basis that there’s plenty of famous stuff to see and that the Blue Mountains were close enough for some hiking. There were also a couple of A-League fixtures scheduled for the week we were there.

First up was a walk from Bondi beach to Coogee. It’s a well-marked route, although if it weren’t then simply keeping the sea to the left would have been sufficient to avoid getting lost. Bondi was virtually empty, a world apart from the crowded Christmas Day scenes that I’m more familiar with.

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Later in the week we spent a couple of nights in the Blue Mountains and hiked around the Three Sisters. A longer walk the next day into the Leura Forest proved to be a lot quieter, with few people wanting to stray too far from the visitor centre.

I’d recommend the Blue Mountains. We stayed in a cottage on the outskirts of Leura and on the evenings could sit in the garden and watch cockatoos flying from tree to tree in the way that the sparrows do in Teesside.

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First game of the trip was the Friday night fixture between Sydney and Newcastle at the Allianz Stadium . I’d pre-booked tickets, which we collected from the box office, although it’s a game that probably wouldn’t ever have been in danger of selling out.

We were offered santa hats outside, although in blue. I’m not really one for head gear as I’ve got this theory about baldness, and so turned it down, although when it got chillier later on I partially regretted my decision.

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The tickets cost $28.50 each, which is about thirteen quid at the current exchange rate. Not too bad really, considering that Sydney and Australia in general has a higher cost of living than the UK.

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We had seats in the corner that looked as if it were housing the Sydney hardcore and so moved further along that stand to sit at the other end. There was plenty of room with less than ten thousand fans in a ground that holds four to five times that amount.

As the teams were announced, one fella’s name stood out. It was ex-Boro midfielder Micky Tavares.

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I hadn’t seen much of Tavares in his season with us as I’d spent most of it in Korea. In fact, I think I may have seen just one of his appearances, Preston away over Christmas 2010. That game was a drinking occasion though and so I have no recollection of his performance. Or indeed, much else of the day. The photo proves he was there though, wearing the number 37 shirt.

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The presence of an ex-Boro player was sufficient to give me an allegiance to one of the sides, although, in truth, one of the teams being named Newcastle was more than enough.

Tavares was popular with the home support. I imagine that him having played for the Boro was part of it, but I’d also suspect that they recognised his selflessness when, as the holding midfielder, he would sit tight whilst three of the four Sydney defenders went sprinting past him to join the attack as if they were overdue their turn for a spell up front.

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In the second half we moved to the diagonally opposite side of the stadium for a change of view. Unexpectedly the view was that of a spider, wandering around on the back of the seat in front.

I’m ok with spiders. In the past I’ve allowed them to live in my houses on the basis that I’m less ok with flies. In Australia though that all seems a bit risky as they have any number of spiders with fatal bites. I’m no expert at identifying the good from the bad and so there have been times where I regret to say that I’ve flattened them with a newspaper just to be on the safe side.

I might have let this fella go, but he made one sudden move towards us too many and Jen ground him into the terracing to bring the stand-off to an end. She’s ex-military and I suppose sometimes the training just takes over.

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Sydney were probably the better of the two teams. Not surprising I suppose, considering the pedigree of their midfield. They also created the majority of the chances.

The home fans were quite enthusiastic despite the game having been boycotted by some of what are described in Australia as ‘active fans’. Those that had decided to attend were at their loudest whenever they sang their ‘Sydney’ song, to the tune of Rod Stewart’s ‘Sailing’. It seemed as popular with the kids as the original version was forty years or so ago.

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Sydney took a deserved lead just before the hour when Alex Brosque was allowed as much space as he liked to run into the Newcastle box before drilling the ball into the corner. Newcastle upped their game in the final half hour but it wasn’t enough to prevent Sydney taking the points.

Brisbane Roar v Adelaide United, Sunday 1st November 2015, 2pm

January 28, 2016

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Brisbane is a decent place to spend a week or so, with plenty of options for getting out of the city and going for a walk. In addition to the earlier trip to Lamington, Jen and I also managed to fit in hikes at Noosa and Tambourine.

Noosa was a coastal walk where we were able to watch a couple of giant turtles been buffeted by the waves in a cove. They didn’t seem too bothered, so I imagine that there was enough of whatever turtles eat to make braving the waves and rocks worthwhile. There were also sharks or dolphins. Or maybe tuna. Whatever they were, they had fins.

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We also saw a koala sat high in a tree, although it didn’t do much of interest. I understand that they sleep for most of the day and I suppose that being wedged between a couple of branches twenty feet up in the air makes being disturbed that much less likely.

I doubt we would have spotted the koala if it hadn’t been for other people pointing upwards. We probably see only a small proportion of the wildlife that we pass by.

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The trip to Tambourine was a different type of walk, mainly on tracks that at times reminded me of the forest at the start of the E.T ride at Disney. There was a short trail to a waterfall that seemed to be the most popular route for visitors and then a longer loop that wasn’t so busy or as well signposted. It was only when we found ourselves peering into a hole in a tree trunk that we’d looked into half an hour earlier that we realised we’d taken a wrong turning and repeated a loop.

If it hadn’t been for that tree we might very well have just lapped that particular part of the circuit for the rest of the day. There wasn’t much in the way of wildlife. I think the best we saw was a dragonfly. Pretty to look at but no doubt, like most things seem to be over here, deadly poisonous to Teessiders.

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As for football, we were able to see a second game, again featuring Brisbane Roar against Adelaide United, but this time in the Womens League.

The fixture took place at the Cleveland Showgrounds, which was a short drive out of the city. It was five dollars to get in, or free if you were a Brisbane Roar member, which just about everyone apart from Jen and I seemed to be. The Showgrounds wasn’t really a stadium, more a pitch with a clubhouse at one end and then six small temporary stands dotted around the two long sides of the pitch.

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Brisbane had started the season well winning their first two games, but Adelaide were quicker out of the blocks in this one with an opening goal after ten minutes. The home side pulled level midway through the half with a cracking shot from Katrina Gorry that the American keeper in the Adelaide goal did well to get a hand to.

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Gorry was probably the stand-out player for Brisbane and there wasn’t much that went on that she wasn’t involved in. Her teammate at left back looked decent as well, particularly going forward, although her defensive work came in from some criticism from the bloke stood next to me. I politely agreed with him that she was crap, only for him to reveal himself as her father.

Adelaide regained the lead in the second half after yet more poor home defending. This time though I kept quiet in case I upset any other family members in attendance. Elsewhere on the pitch Brisbane brought on their new Kiwi signing who looked pretty good, as did their left winger who had a trick or two.

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The flashes of quality weren’t enough to compensate for the slack defending though and Adelaide deserved the win. As with the previous days A-League game, I wasn’t overly impressed with the standard. There were too many players who struggled to control even the tamest of passes and it certainly wasn’t of the level that I’d seen at women’s games in Germany or even Iceland.

In fact, as the game petered out I found myself paying more attention to the tiny birds that were flying close to the surface of the pitch at high speed, swooping every now and then to eat bugs that had been unearthed by the stud marks. That’s worth five dollars of anyone’s money.

Brisbane Roar v Adelaide United, Saturday 31st October 2015, 6.30pm

January 1, 2016

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Five weeks after arriving in Australia, I finally got around to seeing my first A-League game whilst spending a week in Brisbane.  The previous day Jen and I had taken a river cruise from the city centre to a koala sanctuary and had passed the Suncorp Stadium along the way. I didn’t get a photo of it but I did get one of a snake that appeared to be up to no good on the riverbank. I’ve a feeling that snakes are invariably up to no good.

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Inside the sanctuary we posed with koalas and hand-fed kangaroos. There wasn’t the same sense of danger as there had been when we’d fed bananas by hand to wild warthogs in South Africa, but I noticed afterwards some skin-breaking scratches from one kangaroo that insisted on gripping my arm as I fed him.

I got to ruffle the hair of a couple of dingoes too. They like that sort of thing, as do I.

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On the morning of the game we headed out of town to Lamington National Park and did some hiking. I’d been hoping for plenty of wildlife along the way, but after seeing a wallaby or two in the undergrowth early on, there wasn’t much else to see during the ten miles or so that we covered.

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I did encounter a couple of leeches, which turns out to be one of the hazards of walking through a forest with shorts and sandals on. The advice seems to be that you should just let them feed and then when they are full they will clear off. I’m not that patient or generous though and I picked them off as soon as I noticed them, leaving a dribble of blood each time. They pulled away easily enough, unlike a tick that lodged itself in my shoulder a couple of years ago. I had to rely on Jen and her tweezers on that occasion.

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We were back in Brisbane in plenty of time for the game and I walked the half hour or so from our hotel to the stadium. It seemed as if most of the home support was gathered in the Lord Alfred pub near the ground and I could hear them from a distance away.

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Suncorp Stadium, or Lang Park as it was formerly known, dates back around a hundred years. There’s not much that’s original though after a mid-eighties redevelopment. I had a thirty-five dollar ticket for along one side of the pitch in the East Stand that I’d bought in advance, but it would have been no trouble to pick one up on the day with only a small queue at the ticket office.

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I could have bought a cheaper ticket if I’d wanted, as once inside I realised that I could have sat in whatever area of the ground that I’d fancied. The food was pretty good and we were trusted to collect it from the serving areas and fridges and pay for it at tills. I can’t see that ever happening in England, which, I suppose, is quite sad.

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Roar had around three hundred or so fans to my right, who I suspect were the ones making all the noise in the Lord Alfred earlier. They kept up the support all of the way through the game, with a couple of fellas at the front leading things through megaphones.

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Elsewhere in the stadium there were another ten thousand fans with around forty of them supporting Adelaide. Everything seems such a distance in Australia that I doubt that there will be many travelling fans anywhere. The lack of away support amazed me when I lived in Spain, but here I can understand it.

There were plenty of chances in the first half, but the Roar’s Brandon Borello was the only fella to find the net.

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There was still just the one goal in it was we entered the final ten minutes. By that time I’d moved to the south-west corner for a different vantage point and I was perfectly placed to see Jamie Maclaren cut inside and curl one into the top corner.

The goal sparked a bit of aggro between the fans, who didn’t seem to have anything segregating them and the police were happy to let it peter out before intervening and then making a couple of token ejections. Brisbane went on to add an injury time third.

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My overall impression was that the standard wasn’t too high. But that’s ok, I’ve watched much worse in recent years in the lower reaches of the Korean leagues and in Africa. Come to think of it, I might have watched worse under Strachan at the Boro. It certainly felt like it at times.

On the plus side, the weather was warm and the beer was cold. That’s good enough for me.

Boxing at Darwin, Sat 17th October 2015, 7pm

December 25, 2015

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One of the difficulties of living and working in Darwin is finding stuff to do on a Saturday. I don’t get home from work until mid-afternoon and at that point I’m keen to pack as much into my one-day weekend as I can.

I wasn’t too fussed about returning to the Tio stadium for some more Aussie Rules football, or as it’s more simply known over here, ‘footy’. However, I’d read in a mid-week newspaper that there was some boxing going on so we thought we’d give that a go instead.

The venue was the Portuguese and Timorese Social Club in nearby Marrala. Apparently Portugal owned East Timor for about three hundred years up until the mid-seventies. Perhaps the social club is for those who hark back to the days of colonial rule. Marrala is a quiet area and $35 in a taxi outside of Darwin. We paid another $25 for tickets on the door.

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As we were there well before the first bout there were plenty of tables and thankfully most of them had fans above them. It’s warm in Darwin, although as people delight in telling me, nowhere near as warm as it’s going to be.

At one end of the building was a bar and unlike at the footy it was selling full strength beers. I asked the barman for a recommendation and he advised a Corona. I hadn’t come all this way to drink Mexican beer though, although in light of my surroundings I might have been tempted by something Timorese. Maybe even a Portuguese Superbok to bring back memories of the Boro’s trip to Lisbon ten years earlier.

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Fortunately the bar also had plenty of Australian beers, all around the 4.7% mark. I can’t remember which ones I tried but they all went down better than the 3.5% selection I’d sampled at the TIO Stadium the previous week.

There were eight fights on the amateur bill, starting with a walkover at 38kg where the ‘winning’ lad still had to put the gloves on and climb into the ring to receive his trophy, up to a 91kg heavyweight fight.

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Each bout was Queensland (in red) v Northern Territories (in blue). All of the boxers were introduced with a brief outline of age, heritage, how long they had been boxing and what their other interests were.

More often than not they professed to spend their spare time fishing and taking it easy. In their position I wouldn’t have been able to resist declaring a liking for something like cracking skulls and embroidery.

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There were some very good bouts, including one between the two female boxers on the bill. Fight of the night though was an unscheduled 3 x 1 minute rounds contest between a four year old and his five year old brother.

The younger of the two would begin each round by charging across the ring and then they’d spend the minute exchanging blows with the familiarity of kids who beat the shit out of each other every day of the week.

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It was all over in good time and by half past nine we were outside in the car park waiting for a taxi. The air was full of flying beetles, similar to the dung beetles in South Africa, but smaller.

Sometimes they made a whirring noise as they flew through the air and at other times a crunching sound whenever we accidentally trod one into the tarmac.