Fulham 4-1 BFC, Saturday 20th November 2021

‘At least we’ve got the organ grinder today, and not the monkey.’

They must be a most unhealthy lot in that there London, given the number of medical exemptions there must be to qualify for travelling via TFL without a mask on. Or maybe they’re just illiterate and can’t read? Either way, I’d say TFL’s insistence on passengers wearing a mask to…you know…help prevent the transmission of some terrible disease…is being ignored by a good 40% of travellers and approximately 100% of those under 20. Of course, my deeply scientific research is based purely on the carriages and buses I was in.

YES! I was in London village, my home of 28 or so years that I hadn’t set foot in for over a year due to ‘circumstances beyond my control’ (another phrase I’ve grown used to with TFL over the years). I’d forgotten how much I love London. The ‘blitz spirit’ which means we’re immune to any enemy invasion, whether it be Nazis, terrorists, or pandemics. The number of people staggering around at 3 in the morning…or even walking through Rotherhithe Tunnel (how do they breathe in there?). And foxes scanning the Sarf Landan streets for evidence of kebab. And the beggars / homeless. I’ll say this for Ferryhill, we don’t have people out on the street. (Too bloody cold.)

I’d been eyeing Fulham away for a fortnight, and even my dad’s best efforts to die last week didn’t put me off. (He left his bed for the first time in 13 months, as he was whisked to hospital, choking to death and turning a different colour. Luckily, he survived. Collected at 3pm, he saw a doctor by 10….and was sent home by carriage (ambulance) at 4am. Good job I have a greedy cat – Redfearn woke me up at 3:45 wanting food. Anyway, dad’s fine, or as fine as one can be with Alzheimers, Parkinson’s and renal cancer, to name but three.

I drove down late Friday night, once dad had settled. (I’d arranged my cousin to come and stay Satdy). Roads’d be empty, I thought. Should make good time, I thought. I was kicked off the motorway 4 times, as well as enduring 20 odd miles of ‘average speed limit’ around Northamptonshire. Even coming toward London I was kicked off the M1 as it met the M25. Anyway, it was nice to see so many roadmen out at night. Someone has to put them cones out.

After my longest uninterrupted sleep in a year (see: Redfearn / dad) I was raring to go. Who doesn’t love a trip to Fulham? The walk through the park, the Thames alongside, the Cottage…the ridiculously priced pints in Parson’s Green. Yes, we were back at the White Horse, and given the amount of money I’ve saved by NOT going to the pubs of Ferryhill, who cared that my pint cost £6.80? (Well, Lord Selwood, actually, cos he got it in!) But it wasn’t just any pint. Unpasteurised Pilsner Urquell. This really is the amber nectar, albeit more than 3 times the price of the same pint in its home, Plzen, Czech Republic.

Did I drink too much pre-match? Or was I simply enjoying matchday too much to worry about the match? Dunno. I sat with Anton, 1st half, had a good natter, then joined ‘the boys’ second. I know Fulham ran rings around us, though I was very disappointed in the way we conceded the opener. A cross came, in, Mitrovic was being marked by not one, but two experienced centre halves…oh, no he isn’t. 1-0. Their second…didn’t we give them the ball (I s’pose all goals start from the opposition ‘giving them the ball’)..a lucky rebound and he’s clean through. The 3rd, he shins it in and their 4th we just stand and watch. I don’t know why the left sided defender (Jordan Williams?) doesn’t just applaud too, if he’s that admiring.

Inbetween all that, and them hitting the woodwork twice, and ruining countless other breaks with a misplaced last pass, we actually pull one back at 3-0. Cauley has an open goal, 3 yards out..and hits the post. That’ll do wonders for the lad’s confidence. Big Vic faces a harder job burying the rebound, but shows Cauley how it should be done. 3-1 flattered us, as did 4-1. If Fulham had repeated their 7-0 whitewash of Blackburn, we couldn’t have complained. I loved every minute.

Onwards and upwards!

*** No-one. I hear Palmer played well. I don’t remember him being on the pitch (seriously). If Palmer’s a ball playing midfielder…and we didn’t have the ball…what did he do?
** No-one. I don’t remember Jesus Christ Carlton Morris either, though I heard he came on. Did he start? Either way, his second coming was on a par with the Stone Roses. (Niche cultural reference, that one.)
* No-one. Yeah, yeah, Collins made a couple of saves, but nothing any keeper wouldn’t have dealt with, and he didn’t deal with at least 4 others

Londontykes' MOTM:
1. Palmer 2= Collins / No-one

Despatches: The real highlight of the game was the fans. The worse it got, the louder it got (in the away end). Much to Chris’s annoyance, all we had left was sarcasm and renditions of oldies but goldies. (‘Jason, Jason Jason, Jason Jason, Jason Jason Scotland…Marlon, Marlon Marlon, Marlon Marlon, Marlon Marlon Harewood’ and something about Bambo Diabo’s d*** amongst others. Mind, points knocked off for anything to do with ‘f***ing the Pope’ (WTF???) and I’m left scratching my head at ’10 German bombers’. I didn’t realise Fulham were Nazis. Or was Lord Haw Haw a Cottager? Very probably, from what I’ve heard… But the best was at 2-0. ‘Let’s pretend we’ve scored a goal’ went the chant…and while the away end bounced, the rest of the ground joined in. Fulham had made it three-zero. Still, every time they scored, all you could hear was ‘Barn-sa-lee, Barn-sa-lee’. Home fans to our right smacked their little Leicester City clappers like seals at a circus. And then when we did score, it was met by our new goal chant…’we’ve scored a goal, we’ve scored a goal, we’ve scored a goal.’ I don’t think Chris cared for that one much, either. But, honestly, if we left the sarcasm at home, we’d cry. (Chris then did joke about the new manager taking one look at this bunch and getting back on a plane to Sweden that night. Let’s just say he’s got his work cut out.)

Drink du jour: Like Highlander, there can be only one. Pilsner Urquell, unpasteurised. ‘Arrrr much!?’

Away: A lot more than this team deserves. 1200? Maybe more.

The Damage:
c. £90 petrol
£30 ent
£3.50 programme
= c. £123.50 (plus beers!)

The Tunes:
None. Soaking in the London vibes!

Fulham 2-1 BFC, Saturday 23rd December 2017

‘We’re richer than you, we’re richer than you, we’re Barnsley FC, we’re richer than you.’

Welcome to ....

This is novel. We’re in Fulham, West London, and all I can hear are Barnsley fans chanting about being richer than them.  Must be the Billy Beane / Chinese / American consortium effect..  ‘We’ve got Billy Beane, Billy Beane…la la la la la la la la’.  Let the good times roll!

Optimism wasn’t high pre-match (unless you’re Andy ‘Bradshaw to get two’ Jones) but who cares?  We were in the White Horse, Parson’s Green, and they’ve Pilsner Urquell unpasteurised in the vat.  I’ll take 3.  I’d take more, but I have a match to attend.  The athletes (Reedy, Rock ‘n’ Roll Jim, me) elect to walk the 20 odd minutes, the rest get ubers.  What is it with the youth of today?  One of the glories of Fulham and Craven Cottage is the walk.  Where else in London do you get a park to walk through and glimpses of the Thames?  Have you ever been to Tottenham?

The pre-match hullabaloo.

Numbers were unsurprisingly down on last season’s incredible 1800. Christmas doesn’t help, and neither does two points in seven games.  I cannot remember the last time we looked like scoring in open play and surely only a miracle will prevent me picking up mountains of moolah after Bradshaw’s latest failure.  Whothehell would bet he’d score a dozen before Xmas?

Putney End...neutrals and away fans alike.

The Fulham boys won’t let us put our flag up (no fire safety certificate) but at least we can stand up and generate an atmosphere. And it was very lively early doors, till we realised the Fulham fans weren’t offering anything and ditto the Barnsley attack.  The game was generally spent in and around our box, though Moncur spurned the best opportunity, ghosting in to sidefoot a volley over at the far end.  Their keeper also came out and messed up and if Barnes had a right foot, surely he’d have lifted it over him into an empty net.  He didn’t.

The teams come out.

Nil-nil at half time, but it takes less than 10 minutes of the 2^nd half to concede one of our trademark goals: the cut inside and drill home from 20 odd yards.  Along with the backpost header, we must let in more of these goals than any other team in the world.  It’s a decent strike, too, bottom corner, but why don’t we score these goals?  Oh yes, we need a player who can hit a ball from this range.  At least it’s not Williams who’s being waltzed around this time, it’s defensive lynchpin Moncur.  Who will rid us of this turbulent believer in priests?

Must be Christmas..the 3 wise men are here.

By now, ‘Last Christmas’ is banging around the away end and the Fulham goal does nought for it to subside.  It must have gone on for 15-20 minutes without respite.  Then Hecky brings on Isgrove (welcome back!) and Hammill on either wing, the former looking especially dangerous merely by running about and being keen.  Both are a vast improvement on Thiam (another failure when on from start) and Moncur.  Who will rid us….etc

The view from the Exec boxes.

Still, it comes as some surprise when the Super Reds do equalise, Yiadom playing in a peach of a long cross for Bradshaw to sneak in and head home.  THE MAN!!!!!!!!!!!  I did say I was hoping he’d bag one, if only to make the bet interesting.  In the next few minutes Bradders furthermore narrowly fails in a scramble, while he drags a 20 yarder wide with his left, with others in more promising positions.  The match is now truly on, or at least till Fulham put a cross in from the right…and it flies over Davies and into the net. Jammy f***ing ba5tards.  But why was Davies on the front post?  Another entirely avoidable goal and despite Isgrove’s best efforts, we never really threaten again.  Time to get to the pub, claim my £30 of winnings…then spend £40 on a round.  A victory of sorts, then….

*** Lindsay.  Won everything in the middle, broke up play. 
** Pinnock.  Good partnership with Lindsay and a couple of crucial blocks.
* Yiadom.  Back to form – in time to engineer a move in the January transfer window.

Onwards and upwards!

Looking towards the Hammersmith End.

Despatches:
Isgrove was unlucky not to be top 3, outstanding.  Hopefully he’ll be in the starting XI soon.  Otherwise, we’re nothing if Barnes isn’t on it, and he hasn’t been for weeks.  McCarthy didn’t have a great game.  The more fans sing about how he never loses the ball….the more he loses the ball.  Can we just bin this s*** chant?  I’d be tempted to bin Thiam and Ugbo too.  Will Thiam EVER score a goal in open play?  The less said about the latter the better.  The future of England my front bottom.  And don’t point out to Loko how Williams loses the ball, or you might see how Loko loses his temper.  Thankfully Reedy did it for me.  ‘BUT HE’S ONLY LOST IT TWICE!!!!’ screamed Loko, proving he’s at least one short of fingers (and that was just the 1^st half).

On the plus side, we’re now only two points above relegation and yours truly has £20 wagered on us going down.  Last week the pre-match vote in the pub was 10-1 in favour of us staying up. Let’s see what it is by New Year’s Day…

The cottage, bedecked in Xmas lights.

Drink du jour: Pilsner Urquell unpasteurised, Big Wave IPA, Pilsner Urquell unpasteurised.  I reckon me and Reedy made double figures, Satdy.  And about two-thirds the way through that number I had Alison hectoring me for daring to be part of the home-homing fraternity.  Seems I’m not allowed to hold left wing views if I own a house!  Too right! 

Away: c600.  Best atmosphere of the season, incredible.

The Damage:
£20 ent
£3.50 programme
= £23.50

The Tunes:
A Deeper Understanding (The War on Drugs)
Let Them Eat Chaos (Kate Tempest)
It’s Album Time (Todd Terje)
The Far Field (Future Islands)

Fulham v Barnsley panorama.

The Riverside Stand.

Pilsner Urquell unpasteurised.  The amber nectar.

Darkness descends on Barnsley's chances.

Alison's fabulous (free) Xmas jumper, courtesy of #1 son.

Fulham 2-0 BFC, Saturday 14th January 2017

‘Here’s to you, Conor Hourihane
Barnsley loves you more than you will know   
A whoa whoa whoa....'

Welcome to ....

Yesterday was a was a strange day.  Having read endless missives on the Winnall saga, I was half expecting some kind of mutinous away end.  Not a bit of it.  Even as I walked through Bishops Park to the stadium, you could hear the Barnsley noise inside.  The general jist was summed up by Dave, pre-match: Winnall is dead to us.  We move on.  

Of course, it wasn’t the most auspicious of starts, without everyone’s favourite crap goalscoring centre forward.  We lost 0-2 to a side who, on second half showing (and the lesson they gave us at Oakwell) are simply a better side than us.  So it sticks in the craw that the only way for them to break us down was a decidedly iffy penalty in 1^st half injury time.  Also, how reasonable of Chris Martin to go on strike against everyone else but come back to bury us.  Equally galling was the late penalty he DIDN’T give to the Super Reds, as Armstrong ran at the defender, outpaced him, and was barged over.  The other week, Roberts was sent off for similar. This week: nothing.  And there I was, thinking refs always tried to even things up in the same match.

Martin: On strike one week, on strike the next.

Without He Must Not Be Named, there were a few changes. Ryan Williams was in. Hamill was in, Kent was out.  And with Yiadom on African Nations’ duty, there was a timely return from injury for Aidey White (who was promptly skinned early doors, twice).  Looked like a 4-4-1-1 to me, with Bradshaw leading the line.  And it was the latter who nearly bagged a second half equaliser, with a header which went wide.  ‘Winnall woulda bagged that’ I joked, as an angry bloke turned around ready for a row.  (It was diffused very quickly, when it was pointed out I had never rated Winnall..and neither had this bloke).

Fulham, you're just too nice.

Otherwise, the closest we came to a goal was when Hamill cracked a long ranger off the bar at 0-0. He ran at their defence, and was looking for the inside ball to Bree…who instead went wide, leaving Adam with no choice but to have a go himself.  (A later break by Hamill ended with a misplaced pass as Bree made the wrong run; the Hamill/Bree relationship needs working on).  But it was a promising game from the former Messiah.

The Riverside Stand.

It was a pretty open 1^st half, with both sides having a number of half chances.  They probably shaded it, but 0-0 seemed about right at half time…till THAT decision.  Second half, they ran the match, until Armstrong and Miller Kent were sent on to add some pace.  (Moncur allegedly came on too, but I wouldn’t recognise him if he came up and tw*tted me in the face).  Unfortunately, we were two down by then, undone by an excellent cross to the back post and a measured volley across the keeper and into the far corner.  Superb technique.  But what was he doing there unmarked?  (Scoring.  I’m answering my own question.)

...and the historically listed Stevenage Road Stand.

Let’s be honest, it was pretty one-way traffic 2^nd half and Davies kept us in it.  He gets plenty of practice these days, like a coconut shy at Penistone Fair.  (Do they have a fair?  Probably.  It strikes me as the kind of place.)  We were well beaten and I stand by Fulham being one of the two best sides I’ve seen this season, along with Reading.  All that was left was another ovation for Captain Supreme, Conor Hourihane, who, by the cursory clap and then gaze at his shoelaces looks like he's played his last game for us.  (Possibly) goodbye - and good luck.

Still, what I like about Fulham – you can get beaten and still enjoy your day. 

Obligatory shot of the cottage...

*** Davies.  Kept us in it 2^nd half with some excellent saves. 
** Hamill.  Looked keen. A pity he doesn’t have telepathic understanding with Bree (yet).
* Armstrong.  Came on and created (relative) havoc.

Londontykes' Top 3:
1. Davies
2. Williams
3. Hamill

Despatches:Some top drinking at the Sloany Pony in Parsons Green.  Unpasteurised Pilsner Urquell on tap and a pile of Londontykes to converse with.  And Alison Loko telling me about Little Loko’s latest betting faux pas:  stick a oner (?) on the Reds to win at Blackpool while at the game…think it’s not gone through cos of dodgy internet reception, so stick another 100 on….lose £200.  I’m telling you, you don’t get GIVEN a nickname like ‘Loko’ (Loco), you EARN it.  Ben – you were missed last Satdy!  (In other Loko news, he’s missing his favourite team Leeds play us next week.  I can’t remember if I've seen the photo of him in his first Leeds kit…but it’s somewhere).  Oh, and I had my 1st ever s*** in a football ground that I can remember.  It was near the end of half time, the urge just engulfed me.  Thankfully, the seat was still warm from the last chap!

Relief doesn't cover it.

  
Onwards and upwards! 

Drink du jour: Unfiltered Pilsner Urquell pre-match, Asahi in Mabels after, as we revelled in Harrow and Salisbury’s company all the way to Kings Cross. A great day for drinking and (for us Londontykes) not travelling.

Away: 1800.  Where did they all come from? Great atmosphere, especially 1^st half.

The Damage:20 ent

I'd have considered a programme, but why should I pay £3.50 when everyone else charges 3 quid?

The Tunes:Biggest Bluest Hi-Fi (Camera Obscura)

Craven Cottage panorama

Where else but the walk to Fulham?

Looking towards the Hammersmith End.

Look at the size of their gantry.

'Here's to you, Conor Hourihane...'

Craven Cottage at dusk.

Oh well.