We catch a train from Bratislava to Trnava. I’ve been to this ground before and I remember one thing; it was a midweek game and in order to get a train to wherever I was staying (not Trnava) I had to leave at half-time. Not tonite. Tonite we’re staying in possibly Trnava’s only hotel, a building that looks like it’s been converted from a communist block of flats. It’s hard-going getting there too. It’s red hot (30 odd degrees) and it’s a fair walk from the railway station. On the way though we pass the ground. There is absolutely zero sign of a game here tonite, aside from a poster telling people they can’t buy tickets for the game at the ground. It’s the UEFA website or nothing.
After a shower to cool down, we’re off and about. The city centre is small and the ground is adjacent. We park up at a pub in town and enjoy a couple of beers as we’re accosted by a pair of German groundhoppers here for the game. They’re Hansa Rostock fans (renowned for being right wing) and are annoyed when, on discussing the atmosphere at German games, I compliment St. Pauli (renowned left wing). I admit to being a bit of a rascal here, though my opinion stands. But the Germans were good company, before we moved on for food, a typically Slovakian menu (meat, potato pancakes)and more gorgeous (Czech) beer.
It was less than 10 minutes to walk to the ground. Half stadium, half shopping centre, it still looks brand new and spotless. Built in 2015, 3 sides of two tiers are linked together in a horse-shoe. The 4th side is a small single-tier affair, limited in its size by the street behind, though its roof proudly declares ‘CITY ARENA’ in bold lettering. Still, when will Trnava need 18,800 seats? (Ans: when England played here in 2016. But the point is ‘rarely’. Spartak Trnava average around 4,000.)
We enter via turnstiles on the main road having had to walk through the aforementioned shopping centre to get there. Fairly quickly in, and we’re soon in a queue for a drink. The heat is oppressive, not the sort of thing a couple of pasty English types enjoy. In fact, the shade of a concrete concourse offered some relief, before we bought a couple of Radlers (or shandy to you or I). Thirst quenching.
I’d been wondering what sort of attendance it would be all day and as we passed through the vomitory it became apparent certain parts of the ground were closed. Still, it was a healthy 8,000+, with most in the stand we occupied, on the long side opposite the single tier. There was a good mix of fans too, not just England and Spain (though both were few in number), but other participating nations as well. But by far the most number appeared to be locals, out to see the future Harry Kane, or Rodri, perhaps? They were in for a treat.
For those of us whose team’s matches are not interrupted by VAR, we had an early treat; Spain’s 3rd minute opener ruled out after 5 minutes of discussion. And they say VAR is ruining football! (Is it Norway who’ve since got rid of it?) But by the quarter of an hour mark, England were 2 goals up. McAtee’s is Johnny-on-the-spot as a corner isn’t cleared. Then Liverpool’s Quansah intercepts a ball in his own half, drives forward 50 yards. As defenders back off, expecting the pass that never comes, he hits one from outside the box, the keeper spills and Liverpool’s Harvey Elliott is there on the rebound. I’d hoped the Spanish custodian might be called ‘Jesus’ on the offchance I could riff on the old gag ‘Jesus saves...Dalglish scores on the rebound’ graffitied sign outside a Liverpudlian church. Unfortunately, he’s called Alejandro.
Now, I’m not the biggest England fan. Anodyne football, overpaid superstars, etc...but this Young England are a different kettle of fish. Passing and moving at pace, always looking to go FORWARD. What’s all that about? They still look capable of defensive deficiency (fullback Livramento looks weak, and I’m sure he’s one of the ones who’ve got a FULL England cap or 2) but you can’t have everything at Under 21. Hopefully they’ll keep the positive and improve on the negative.
I think it’s McAtee giving the ball away on the edge of his own box, dribbling, and in the panic that follows Quansah chops down a Spaniard as he cuts inside. The stutter does for Beadle in goal and Javi Guerra puts the ball the other way. Half-time isn’t far away and a chance for England to recoup.
At half-time, my partner takes ill. Not quite ill enough to go home (I’ll spare the details) but we go and sit behind the goal as there’s barely anybody there and it offers quick access to the toilet. Spain dominate early, but as the game goes on, I fancy England to hit them on the break. Head Coach Carsley sends on 5 subs in 3 second half bursts and the tide swings England’s way. One of them, Jonathan Rowe (of my partner’s team Norwich, but soon to be Marseilles) bursts forward and nicks it in the corner of the box just before the keeper takes him out. Penalty, and fellow sub Elliott Andersen (Forest) bangs it down the middle. 3-1 and game over.
England:
James Beadle (Brighton & Hove Albion; on loan at Sheffield Wednesday last season)
Jack Hinshelwood (Brighton & Hove Albion)
Quansah (Liverpool)
Charlie Cresswell (Toulouse)
Tino Livramento (Newcastle United)
Tyler Morton (Liverpool)
Alex Scott (Bournemouth)
Omari Hutchinson (Ipswich Town)
McAtee (Manchester City)
Harvey Elliott (Liverpool)
Jay Stansfield (Birmingham City)
The Damage:
€20 ent
€3.70 Radler
€3 deposit on plastic beaker
= €26.70
