B 1908 Amager v Greve Fodbold, Saturday 7th June 2025, 12 noon

June 16, 2025

The second gig of the Duran Duran tour was in Copenhagen and Jen and I flew in from Finland a couple of days in advance. I’d not been to Copenhagen for forty years but recalled that the only places we could afford to drink on that occasion were the free brewery tours that included three bottles of their product. Whilst I was grateful for the past generosity, or marketing tactics, of the breweries, forty years of saving up had allowed me to look forward to trying something other than Carlsberg or Tuborg on this occasion.

I may have been a little harsh with Duran Duran as they’ve actually got three songs that are listenable, which is three more than a lot of bands.

Jen wanted to buy some wool from a shop in nearby Roskilde that is well-known in world knitting circles. Roskilde is a short train ride outside of Copenhagen and also boasts a record shop and a church full of dead kings. We picked up an early seventies album from The Trammps which was selected primarily for its double denim with afros band photo on the sleeve.

Sadly, the dead kings weren’t on display, but the tombs that they were in were ok for a short visit, particularly the ones with stone skull carvings.

We were staying in the south of Copenhagen and so could walk to the first game that I’d identified. It was a fifth-tier game described as a relegation group, which is presumably that thing that they have in Scotland, where the league splits into two at a certain point in the season and you play only those teams in your half of the table.

It took us an hour to get there and on arrival we handed over fifty Krones each, which is around six quid. For that we also got a programme included.

The Sundby Idraetspark ground is a century old, but from what I read, the main stand only dates back half that time. There was a small open stand on a grassy bank behind the goal to our right and an athletics track lapped the pitch, although with only three lanes on all but the home straight.

We got hot dogs before kick-off, with the buns an optional extra. They were also serving beer from the same counter, but it felt a little early in the day to start a session.

1908 went into the game bottom of their group, with Greve a little higher and possibly safe from relegation. 1908 dressed up as Fulham with Greve rocking an Everton vibe. The match started five minutes before scheduled and an early goal for the visitors meant that 1908 were trailing even before they were due to have kicked off.

The home team’s day got worse as we approached the half-hour when a defensive mix up left a visiting striker unchallenged and all he had to do was take the ball around the prone keeper and roll it into the net.

For a long time, it just looked to be a matter of how many Greve would score, but with a quarter of an hour remaining, 1908 intercepted a back pass and tucked it away to halve the deficit.

Both sides stepped up their efforts in the final minutes. There were some late tackles and yellow cards. 1908 pushed hard for an equalizer but it didn’t come. The way that the home players slumped to the ground suggested that the result must have mattered to them. Perhaps it confirmed relegation.

Of more importance though was that I’d ticked off a game in Denmark, taking the total number of countries where I’d seen a game to sixty-five. Well done me.

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FC Ilves 2 v Atlantis FC Akatemia, Monday 2nd June 2025, 7pm

June 7, 2025

The Duran Duran gig that had brought us to Finland was in Tampere which is two hours drive north of Helsinki. It was a scenic route with frequent deer sightings in the nearby fields. We’d booked an apartment close to the Nokia Arena venue and didn’t move too far away from it, so I’ve no real idea whether I saw the best bits of Tampere or not.

Jen enjoyed the gig whereas I struggle a bit to appreciate their music. I don’t mind listening to Planet Earth or Girls on Film, but the other eighteen songs could be vastly improved by condensing them all down to a five-minute medley.

I had a more enjoyable evening the previous night when I went along to the Tammelan Stadium which was a short walk further on from the Nokia Arena. The game was a fourth-tier fixture between Ilves reserves and Atlantis.

I hadn’t expected much difficulty in getting in, but tickets were required and they could only be bought online. A very helpful steward identified the website and two minutes and ten euros later I had my seat.

The Tammelan stadium is just a year old and has an eight thousand capacity. I like the design which includes downward curved roofs on the stands behind the goals. There was a possible flaw in the stand opposite to me though with the uprights for the floodlights going straight through the upper tier. If the seats behind them were sold then it would have been a very obscured view for those people.

There was a concourse area behind me with bars and food. Some people watched the game from stools through the glass. I could see the appeal in poor weather, but this was a sunny evening and perfect for sitting outside.

There were around two hundred people in my stand, including half a dozen or so from Atlantis. The only other spectators were twenty home ultras who had a dedicated section behind the goal my right. They all looked to be fourteen years old and were dressed in black with five or six flags between them. A constant drumbeat accompanied the game

The first half was goalless, but Atlantis might well have had a penalty early in the second. The outraged Atlantis number nine soon made amends though, getting a marginal touch to a lofted cross. The visitors quickly doubled their lead with well-finished half-volley.

Ilves pulled one back with twelve minutes to go and then pressurized the Atlantis goal. It paid off in added time when a great through ball split the defence. It was squared and tucked away. I shared in the joy of a last gasp draw that feels like a win.

I was less joyful when I popped into the supermarket on the way out to find that alcohol sales finish bang on the stroke of nine o’clock. I’d missed the deadline for buying a couple of cans of beer by four minutes. Maybe I should have made an early dart from the game to ‘beat the traffic’.

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IF Gnistan v FC Ilves, Sunday 1st June 2025, 4pm

June 4, 2025

Fortunately, Jen and I have similar tastes in music. Actually, we seem to have similar tastes in lots of things. One slight difference though is Duran Duran. They were one of Jen’s childhood bands whereas I’ve always seen them as talentless tossers. However, Jen accompanies me to plenty of events where her focus is on knitting rather than whatever I’m interested in and so when I saw that Duran Duran were touring Europe, I booked us tickets for Tampere and Copenhagen.

First stop on the way to Tampere was two nights in Helsinki. It’s somewhere that I visited back in 2009 with Paul for a Hanoi Rocks gig on their farewell tour. In the battle of the bands, I’d say the Finns beat the Brummies hands-down.

Our apartment was only a few minute’s walk from where I’d stayed the previous time, but I remembered nothing of the area. On that first trip Paul and I did some salmon fishing, popped into a castle and drank in what I recall as being old bloke pubs.

This time Jen and I wandered along to the harbour. There were plenty of food stalls, most of which sold reindeer meatballs or salmon soup. It’s probably like every restaurant in Teesside sticking a parmo on the menu. We had neither, as we ended up eating in a Georgian establishment, so it was mince dumplings and some fried potatoes. That’s a win.

As you might have expected, I scheduled in some football. Finland is somewhere that I’d yet to see a game, so the visit would take the total countries where I’d watched a match to sixty-four.

We caught a train from Helsinki station that took us four stops and twenty minutes north to the suburbs. Everyone was very helpful, something that I now associate with Finns, and we arrived at the Mustapekka Arena with around twenty minutes in hand. It’s a ground with just a 2,600 capacity, which struck me as being on the small side for a top-tier fixture.

I’d bought tickets in advance that morning at twenty-two euros a pop. It was as well I did as there were very few empty seats. We were in what appeared to be a temporary stand made of scaffolding, whilst there was a more permanent structure on the other side of the pitch. A few people stood behind each goal and watched through netting.

There were beer and burgers for sale and an old bloke manning a barbecue. I got a hot dog at half time which came without a bun. That’s ok on the basis that the hot dog is the best bit. I’d have been less impressed if it had just been a dogless bun.

And the match? Well, not very much happened at all, at least for the first eighty-seven minutes. Visitors Ilves had most of the territorial advantage with the Gnistan goalie keeping his side in the game by making some decent stops. The home side couldn’t hold out though and to a collective FFS from the crowd, Ilves nicked a goal three minutes from the end. They sealed the win with a second goal in added time.

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De La Salle Devils v North Manchester Kaizers, Sunday 25th May 2025, 11am

May 30, 2025

Our third gig in three nights was From The Jam at Manchester Ritz. It was supposed to be Bruce Foxton’s final appearance before a health-driven retirement but unfortunately he wasn’t well enough to attend. That meant that there wasn’t actually anyone on stage that was ‘From The Jam’, but it wasn’t a big deal. Hastings is pretty good as a tribute act and has played with all three past members of The Jam at different times. It was a beery singalong with a crowd of predominantly sixty-odd year old blokes wearing Fred Perry polos.

Next morning Jen and I headed out into the Manchester suburbs to Whalley Range’s ground in Chorlton-cum-Hardy. It was hosting the final of the JA Kennedy Cup, a competition for teams in the Manchester Amateur Sunday League. It’s a league that claims to be the oldest Sunday League in the world.

It was three quid admission, which surprised me, as it’s rare that Sunday League footballers play in front of a paying audience. There weren’t any stands, but there were a few picnic tables with benches. We found a padded bench at a table in front of the bar.

The finalists were De La Salle Devils and North Manchester Kaizers. There was an online programme available via one of those QR codes that gave some of the history of the teams. All I can remember is that the Kaizers were formed quite recently. Both sides had support there, mainly family by the look of it. I’d been expecting there to be parties of lads on a Bank Holiday weekend sesh, but it was all fairly subdued.

Most of the action was in the first-half. Devils went a goal up early on, only for Kaizers to equalise twenty-five minutes in. It was a short-lived parity as within two minutes Devils were back in front. They held the advantage until shortly before the break when Kaizers levelled again.

The winning goal came a few minutes into the second half. It looked offside to me, with a Kaizers player tapping in an effort that would have gone in anyway. The Devil’s protests went unanswered and it was enough to clinch the cup.

We hung around for the presentations which went on longer than they do at a World Cup.  I suspect the subsequent celebrations will gave gone on well into the afternoon.

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Littletown v Wyke Wanderers, Saturday 24th May 2025, 2.30pm

May 29, 2025

The football season is just about over in England but there are still odd games remaining, usually where one of the sides has ran up a fixture backlog due to extensive cup runs or trouble with their pitch. Jen and I were heading over to Manchester for a gig and so we broke our journey by calling in at the final game of the season in the West Yorkshire League Premier Division.

We were doing pretty well for gigs. Two nights ago we’d gone up to Newcastle to meet up with Paul to see Michael Monroe. He’s the former frontman from Hanoi Rocks, a band that Paul and I first saw over forty years ago. This one was in the Newcastle University Student Union and was very little different to the Hanoi Rocks performances that we saw in the mid-eighties. At one point he came down off the stage and ended up jumping onto the bar. Monroe is a couple of years older than us but I doubt I’d be able to clamber around with such ease.

The next night, Jen and I saw The Snuts at Middlesbrough Town Hall. We’ve seen them a couple of times before including their gig at the same venue three years ago when it seemed likely that they might be the next big thing. I’m not sure that they’ve progressed as much as I’d expected but there was a decent youngish crowd, most of whom appeared word perfect on all the songs. It was a good show, with it all over in an hour and without an encore. That’s as it should be. Play your best stuff for sixty minutes and then clear off.

The Saturday afternoon game was between Littletown and Wyke Wanderers at Beck Lane, Heckmondwike. I suspect that Littletown were the cause of the fixture pile up as they’d won three trophies, including the league. They posed behind their cups before kick-off.

The crowd of around one hundred and twenty was likely bigger than Littletown’s usual attendance as it was boosted by at least forty groundhoppers. We are easily spotted, with cameras, notebooks and backpacks, although I can often pass for a normal person simply by taking Jen along.

Littletown missed an opportunity to cash in on the groundhopper influx as it was free admission. They probably dipped out on catering profits too as we only paid a couple of quid in total for two coffees and a bag of crisps.

There weren’t any seats anywhere, other than the camping chairs that people had brought themselves. There was a covered standing area, although it just had a dirt floor. As there wasn’t any prospect of rain, Jen and I were content to lean on the rail behind one of the goals.

Not a great deal went on in the opening half-hour. It all got interesting though when some handbags led to two red cards. What made it notable was that both of the players sent off were from Littletown. A Wanderers player picked up a yellow for his part in it all and I imagine that he couldn’t stop smirking at how it all played out.

The two man advantage was enough for Wanderers to take the lead before the break when a corner from the left was volleyed home.

Littletown regrouped after the restart and defended deep for most of the second half. As full-time approached, they threw off the shackles and pushed forward, putting one chance just wide of the post and then hitting the bar in added time.

Wanderers held on for the single goal victory, but with three trophies to parade it was still Littletown’s afternoon.

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Howden JDB Wanderers v Roseberry Park, Sunday 18th May 2025, 10.30am

May 19, 2025

The night before this game Jen and I had been at the Georgian for a Glen Matlock gig. I’d seen him before as a support act at one of the 2009 Mott the Hoople Hammersmith gigs and wasn’t overly impressed on that occasion. However I quite liked the album he put out a couple of years ago, the one with Head on a Stick on it and so we thought we’d go along.

It was fine. He and his band rattled though about fifteen songs in an hour to a crowd of a hundred and fifty or so, most of them older than me and a lot of them sporting mohawks impaired by receding hairlines.

The game I’d selected for the following morning was the final remaining fixture in the Peterlee and District Sunday League. Presumably it had been carried over into mid-May because of a previous postponement. It was between Horden JDB Wanderers and Roseberry Park in the second-tier Division One of the league. Horden is just twenty minutes or so up the A19 and full of football fields with this game taking place at the Crossroads pitch.

I arrived and parked up just before kick-off to be greeted by a small staffy that liked having his ears rubbed. Presumably he was with someone, but he spent the whole game making his way around the crowd soliciting scritches, even wandering onto the pitch at one point for some attention.

Due to the dog distraction, the game had been going on for five minutes before I realised that neither side had a full complement of players. JDB were one man short, with Roseberry only managing to field nine players. Perhaps people had holidays booked, or maybe they had just lost interest. The result didn’t matter too much as the home side couldn’t finish anywhere other than their current second place in the league, whilst the visitors were stuck in fourth position.

You’d think that it wouldn’t have been too difficult to field a full eleven, particularly as each side had a few coaches on the touchline. There were some young lads supporting each side too, although as they had already started on the cans before kick-off, perhaps they wouldn’t have been in peak condition. Maybe it’s a registration thing, although when I played Sunday League, it was quite common for non-registered players to use a false name.

JDB’s numerical advantage was tempered when one of their outfield players was injured early on, he swapped positions with his goalie and then limped around in the goalmouth for the rest of the game. At half time it took him so long to make his way to the touchline that by the time he got there, his teammates were just about ready to head back onto the pitch for the second half.

For all the extra space that the missing players created, it was a cagey game. Both sides had opportunities but invariably the shot would be screwed wide or blazed over the bar. As we approached half-time JDB opened the scoring with a impressive shot that was accurately placed right into the top corner. They added a second after the break to take the points and bring their season to a close.

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Horsham v Littlehampton Town, Thursday 8th May 2025, 7.30pm

May 10, 2025

Jen and I have some odd stuff in our house. Possibly because we’ve furnished it mainly from eBay. Whilst we do have central heating, we’ve supplemented it with some antique French stoves. They originally burned coal but have since been converted to use ethanol. I recently bought another one, which required collecting from the south coast and since I like to squeeze the most out of how I spend my time I decided to schedule our pickup trip to tie-in with a match.

The best option was a cup final, the Sussex Senior Challenge Cup final. Not only was it a meaningful game, but it was played at Brighton’s ground, the Amex Stadium. I’ve not really made much of an effort to-date to complete the ‘92’ but recently have decided that I should try and tick more of them off. I’d been holding back on the missing stadiums in the top two tiers, just in case I could go there with the Boro, but our current aversion to promotion means that somewhere like Brighton would require a cup fixture.

Jen and I travelled down on the day of the game and checked into a seaside hotel at Hove. That gave us the opportunity of walking along the seafront for a couple of miles each way. We called into the pier where we tried the penny falls machines, although most are ten pence these days. I thought about having a go on the ghost train but couldn’t be arsed to find the ticket booth.

On the way back, we stopped at a beach stall for some seafood. I had whelks and cockles, neither of which I’d ever eaten before. Both were fine, one was a kind of sea snail and the other tiny clams, although I forget which was which. The clams just tasted of seawater, which I understand is a good thing. In a nod to her Deep South roots, Jen had crawfish tails but was bemused by the lack of seasoning.

We had a parking ticket for the Amex but initially went to the wrong car park and then had to drive to the other side of the ground. It’s a stadium in the middle of nowhere but has a handy rail link. I doubt anybody gets there solely on foot.

Tickets were thirteen quid a pop and I’d bought them online in advance. I didn’t pay much attention at the time to which team I’d be supporting but we found ourselves in the Littlehampton section of the only stand open. The crowd eventually numbered around three thousand, many of whom had been on the beer for a few hours. The stewards had their work cut out stopping people drinking in their seats, vaping or just generally making a tit of themselves.

Horsham were the better side. Not surprisingly really as they had just won their tier seven league to gain promotion to the National League South. Littlehampton managed to avoid relegation from the eighth tier, so will be two steps behind Horsham next season.

Whilst Horsham had plenty of chances, they couldn’t finish them, and the game looked destined to go straight to penalties at full-time. However, in the sixth and final minute of added time, a curled Horsham free-kick was enough to break the deadlock and earn them the trophy.

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CD Utrera v Atletico Espeleno, Sunday 4th May 2025, 12 noon

May 8, 2025

Our final stop of this Spanish trip was a couple of nights in Olvera. It’s one of those picturesque towns full of white buildings and topped with a castle on a hill. It’s only around an hour and a half from Seville and so we had some time to fill between the respective check-out and check-in times.

There was a fifth-tier game in Utrera, which is around twenty kilometres outside of Seville, that fitted our timetable perfectly.

We arrived early to discover that Utrera is a town full of storks. There was a nest on the chimney behind the olive oil factory and then two or three more on top of the bell tower of the nearby church. As we approached the Estadio Municipal San Juan Bosco, we spotted another nest in what looked like some kind of stadium communication mast.

Jen rarely pays much attention to the action at these games, but when there are storks going backwards and forwards to their nest every few minutes, it’s understandable.

Outside of the stadium was a statue of former Utrera resident, Jose Antonio Reyes. You might remember him playing for Arsenal and Real Madrid. He died in a car crash a few years ago driving between Utrera and Seville, which had been another of his clubs.

We paid our ten euros admission and called at the food hut behind the main stand. We had a coffee each, from a proper espresso machine, and a baguette each with some sobrasada on it. That’s a kind of chorizo paste. With a bottle of coke to take to our seats, it came to eight euros altogether. It’s a far cry from the poor-quality options at the Riverside, where a similar quantity of food and drink would be well over twenty quid. They even gave us a real knife each to spread the paste.

There were presentations before kick-off for where one player got a trophy that looked a bit like the World Cup whilst another was presented with a shirt with 200 on the back. I think the former was Utrera’s player of the season and the other was being celebrated for either having played two hundred games for the club or alternatively, having reached that age.

There was a good atmosphere with fans enjoying the sunshine and a season that had gone well. Victory today would likely clinch a play-off spot for the home side. I’m not sure if there were any away fans, but they probably wouldn’t have felt so happy as they had already been relegated from their fifth-tier Tercera division.

There were lots of kids watching, although most of them were sporting shirts from bigger clubs. Mbappe and Ronaldo were sat just in front of me, with Haaland a couple of places further along. Messi must have been off sick. One young lad had brought a loudhailer which he chanted into whilst encouraging the folks in the stand to clap along.

Tensions rose in the crowd when Espeleno took an early lead. It stayed that way until Utrera equalised bang on half-time. Two more second-half goals started the play-off party and Utrera even brought the old bloke on for a run out.

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Sevilla FC Femenino v Levante UD Femenino, Saturday 3rd May 2025, 4pm

May 7, 2025

It wasn’t the best of weather in Seville, but Jen and I had dodged the rain in the morning to call into a record shop and pick up some old Spanish vinyl. We then found a Korean restaurant for lunch. I had dolsot bibimbap, which was something that I’d generally enjoyed when we lived out there. This one was ok but would have benefitted from being spicier. I wondered whether they had replaced the gochujang sauce with ketchup.

I finished my lunch in time to watch the Boro’s season conclude in a similarly unsatisfactory fashion as once again we failed to create anything worthwhile, going down to a Coventry side that weren’t really any more impressive. Let’s hope that whatever we receive when Hackney moves on is spent on someone who can move the ball forwards rather than sideways.

Once the second Coventry goal went in, I got the car out of the underground hotel parking and drove to the only game in town, the top-tier women’s game between Seville and Levante. It was at the Estadio Jesus Navas, which is part of a larger complex with a few pitches. I’d seen Seville’s C team play on one of the smaller pitches a few years ago.

It was easy to park and the ticket office was right next to the entrance gate. I paid my ten euros and took a seat about half-way up the covered main stand. The rain had returned and if I’d sat any lower down, I’d have got wet.

The current focus on sunflower seeds at football games seems to be changing behaviour. Two blokes nearby had brought some and each was using an empty cup to store the husks. Maybe the next campaign in Spain should be to encourage people to pick up their dog’s turds. I’d much rather walk on discarded sunflower husks then stand in spaniel shite.

Seville went into the game ninth in the table, with little to play for. Levante, however, were only a point above the relegation zone. Seville were the better side and went ahead on the half hour when a ball played between the central defenders created a chance that was neatly tucked away.

Whilst Seville dominated, they had to wait until five minutes from time to seal the points with a second goal and spark the scarf twirling from those fans that had stayed until the end.

I drove back to the centre of town, parking the car before some parade made its way down our street. I’m not really sure why they bother, dressing up and marching around all seems a lot of effort to go to on a holiday weekend.

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 UD Tomares v La Palma, Thursday 1st May 2025, 12 noon

May 6, 2025

My second game of this trip to Seville was a similar distance away from where we were staying as the first game, only this time it was on the other side of the river. There looked to be some motorway walking in the route suggested and so I tried taking a bus to the Tomares district instead.

I wasn’t very successful. A combination of a reduced public holiday service and me misunderstanding which part of the bus station it would depart from meant that I had to resort to taking a taxi to get there in time for kick-off.

A better form of transport would have been the VW Beetle that we’d seen waiting outside a church for the bride and groom to emerge. It was similar to the one that was my first car, forty-three years ago, with a 1300cc engine and the squarish ‘Europa’ bumpers. This one was a cabriolet, which wouldn’t really have worked too well in Teesside.

The Beetle was accompanied by a bloke with bagpipes and, as with most churches in Spain, there was someone down on their luck asking for money sat on one side of the doors and a lottery seller on the other. A lot of churchgoers seemed to hand over some cash to the person in need, before then buying a lottery ticket. Buena Suerte!

It was ten euros to get into the Campo De Futbol Municipal San Sebastian for a second successive fixture in the fifth-tier Tercera division. Both sides has something to play for with Tomares still within reach of a play-off spot and La Palma four points adrift of safety but still not without hope of avoiding relegation.

There were around four hundred people inside, many of them already sipping at their tiny beers and with a definite public holiday weekend vibe.

I was happy to get a Coke Zero and save my partying for later in the day. If I’d wanted some food a café was selling enormous sausage rolls and there was a three-foot-long empanada that I couldn’t work out if it was going to be sliced up for sale or raffled off whole.

There was also a sign barring people from eating sunflower seeds in the main stand. I’d recently read about a la liga club doing this on the basis of the mess that it causes. Perhaps all they need to do is sell them with an extra bag for collecting the husks.

As I had no illicit snacks I took a seat in the right side of the main stand, only to move a few minutes later when I realised that I was surrounded by home fans using the occasion as a chance to fill each other in on what they’d been up to since the previous match. I moved to the other side where the away fans around me didn’t always feel the need to incessantly yap away.

La Palma went ahead within three minutes when, after a neat reverse pass, the resulting shot was tucked just inside the near post. The teams were level at the break though after a Tomares equaliser from a glancing header.

Tomares gradually gained control and then took the lead on fifty-five minutes when an attempt to play offside at a freekick left four home players stood by themselves, just a few yards out. As the visiting defenders waved their arms and frantically appealed from a distance, the home strikers managed not to mess it up and went two-one ahead.

It was one-way traffic for the rest of the game. The La Palma keeper pulled off a couple of decent saves and Tomares hit the underside of the bar. With twenty minutes to go they added a third to keep their play-off hopes alive.

I got luckier with the buses on the way out and, despite a reduced service, found myself back at the bus station in half the time that it would have taken me to walk it.

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