Port Vale 0-1 BFC, Monday 28th March 2016

‘Gillingham.  Like Burslem town centre but with more charity shops.’ (not me, the Vale fanzine)

Finally!  A sign!  (A sign I'm lost.)

What is it with me and Port Vale?  Last year I ran the gauntlet of walking from the nearest rail station, Longport (miles away) and this year was even worse.  I cleverly (!) decided I’d go by bus this year.  There must be buses from Stoke to Burslem, right?  Well, not from Stoke-on-Trent railway station there isn’t, but a helpful bus driver advised me to buy an all day rover ticket and change at Hanley (ie, Stoke-on-Trent city centre) and catch a bus from there.  Which I did.  It even said it was going to Burslem.  But it somehow turned off….I saw the ground’s floodlights and expected it to double back through the town centre…but it didn’t and off I went into the countryside (past Chell, for those who know the area) before getting off and waiting for a bus the other way.  On a Bank Holiday.  

1st sighting of ground. Least, I hope it is.

Of course, bus stands in Stoke-on-Trent don’t like to carry any information on when (or if) there might be another bus that day, so after 10 mins waiting, I decided to walk.  It would only be 3 miles or so.  Luckily, a few stops later there WAS a timetable.  One an hour.  I looked at my watch.  There was one due.  Result!  So, I jumped aboard, retraced my steps, and as it turned off for Hanley decided I had to get off – the sign for Burslem pointed in another direction.  It still must have been 2 miles, as I trundled through Tunstall (where?) before spotting Vale Park on top of a hill.  I thought a vale was at the bottom of a hill? Nevermind, it’s not often I get to cross a wooden bridge over a stream to walk to a ground.  I arrived a couple of minutes after kick-off – it had taken me over 2 hours from Stoke-on-Trent railway station.  Christ, it only takes an hour to get anywhere in London (I have scientifically worked this out.  I can get anywhere in London from my house in an hour, honest.)

Old skool turnstiles, new skool fence.

I entered the stadium in time to hear a volley of ‘we’ve got more fans than you’.  This is what division 3 does to us.  We should have our own division betwixt 2^nd and 3^rd, as we’re Lidl (©Keith Hill) in one and Harrods in t’other.  I go and sit right behind the goal, having had to ask permission from a steward to go through the door he was guarding.  (He had to ask his supervisor.)  A quick glance around the pitch suggested we were two up front, a pleasant experiment after Friday’s one-up and no goals v Scunny.  Fletch is back too, which suggests the club were lying or clueless about his eligibility for today’s game.  I’ll go with b).

STOKE OK.  Graffiti outside Vale Park.

There’s an early goal too.  We get a free kick wide right, and as players line up on the edge of the box, one of theirs goes down like a sack of s***.  This will be a recurring theme all day, as players on either side collapse with the ball nowhere to be seen.  After several players ‘discuss’ what the ref should do, he wisely calls the captains together to tell their sides to get a grip.  As I said, it didn’t work.  Then Hourihane curls one in and it somewhere lands in the net.  From our end, it was impossible to tell whether Toney had got a touch to it, but it was later credited to Hourihane: a cross so bad it eluded everyone (only joking, Loko).  A pearler which had the keeper confused.
Thereafter, we hung on for 80 minutes with intermittent breaks.  I have no idea how Port Fail erred, but I’d suggest there’re in for shooting practice this morning.  The shot count says it all; 14-5 to them (3-2 to us on target).  Corners 10-2.  At least we won it on bookings (somehow): 3-1, there’s predictably being ex-Red lunatic Carl Dickenson.  (For those who can’t remember, he was the thuggish on-loan Stokie left back to Shotton’s class RB).

The view from behind the nets.

Davies did however pull off one great save in the 1^st half, tipping a shot wide which was heading towards the bottom corner.  And (for once) his handling was outstanding.  But the stars of the show really were the centre halves.  Who is this Roberts bloke, who has resurrected his BFC career since November and Altrincham?  (I know, the whole team have.)  And Mawson wasn’t giving the ball away like on Friday.  He had midfielders and forwards to do that, as we tried to build up from the back only to give it away cheaply time and time again.  I think we passed the ball 4 times in one move once.  Maybe twice. 

The oldest part of Vale Park.

Yet there was plenty of space, what with Vale piling forward.  Several times we were 3 on 3, but a wrong decision here, a Hammill falling over there, ruined our chances to put this game to bed and finger nails were bitten all the way to the last minute, as yet another Vale shot was pulled wide.

Game over, phew.  0-1.  Now it was time to hide the scarf (the only time I’ve done this all season) to avoid the Vale nutcases.  I found the journey easier going back; up to Burslem city centre for  bus to Hanley, from where I walked to Stoke-on-Trent railway station via a takeaway (2 samosas, £1.20) and an offy.  It was time to celebrate!

One day this'll be finished.  One day.

*** Roberts.  Not only did he win everything in the air, he read the game well, made lots of interceptions and even found his own players.  I’m starting to really like him.  Of course, none of his long throws went to anything in a red shirt – but that’s cos he’s the one who needs to be on the end of those throws.
** Mawson.  Well recovered after Friday’s debacle.
* Davies.  Great save, good kicking and caught everything.

Londontykes' MOTM
*** Mawson
** = Hourihane / Roberts

Despatches: Unlucky not to make my top 3 was George Williams, another top top performance at right back.  Why did we get that Connolly in?  How did Wabara get a game every week?  (How does he get a game at Wigan, now?)  Williams was another reason we didn’t concede.  Some great tackling and covering.  Aidey White meantime was more concerned with helping out the attack…he did well, but when the ball broke down (through other players’ ineptitude) it left him a bit exposed.  The midfield were decidedly average…were they simply swamped cos we had 2 up front?  Hammill had a couple of good runs before falling down when looking dangerous.  Perhaps he needs a trip to the sports shop for new boots (especially after Friday too).  The front 2…Toney (the loanee) and Fletcher (the other loanee) had strange games.  They don’t look like the kind of blokes you wanna mess with, but along with the Vale players, took turns to fall on the floor claiming some form of opposition deviousness.  What was all that about?  5 or 6 times players went down off the ball.  How the ref only found 3 and 4 mins ‘injury time’ each half was up to him.  Coulda, shoulda, been 6 or 7 mins each half (not that I’m complaining).

Bit of a crowd at the far end.

The ref did well though: booed by both sets of fans and recipient of ‘the referee’s a wa*ker’ as yet another Vale player decided to have a sit down and wait for attention.  (What annoyed me on that one was how he was tended to a yard from the byeline, near the goal, but was allowed to casually walk off to the halfway line.  Probably cos we’d called the ref a wa*ker!)

Oh, and Phil (again) missed the train...this time engineering works ruining his attempts to get to that there London, but this was tempered by bumping into Hicksy, fresh from a morning shift at the brewery.

Shame Mi'wa and Bradford also won, but it puts daylight between us and 8th. Carry on winning and we'll reel 'em in!
Onwards and upwards.  You Reds!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Railway Stand (note: no railway anywhere near it)

I’ll leave the last words to Vale fanzine ‘Derek I’m gutted!!!’ who had a quiz about what occupations the division’s managers would have if they weren’t managers.  You had a choice, ‘brain surgeon’ or….

Can you match the possible job to the current or former Reds’ manager (or, in Davis' case, player)?

1. Sweeper up in breakfast cereal factory	a) Paul Heckingbottom
2. Proprietor of specialist adult bookshop	b) Keith Hill
3. Mature student studying for a city and guilds forced to work nights shelf stacking at Aldi.	c) Danny Wilson
4. No win no fee solicitor	d) Steve Davis
5. Night shift security guard at the barrier of an industrial estate who keeps nipping out to stretch his legs.  And have a fag.	e) Mark Robins
6. Man in pub who can get you anything for a tenner.	f)  Lee Johnson
7. Sneaky car park attendant hiding round a corner with his notebook and pen poised.	g) Micky Mellon
8. Man blocking the doorway whilst having a fag outside a betting shop.	h)  Gary Flitcroft

1= Steve Davis                           5= Micky Mellon
2= Gary Flitcroft                        6= Lee Johnson
3= Paul Heckingbottom             7= Mark Robins
4= Danny Wilson                       8= Keith Hill

Away: 854
Drink du jour: a couple of Leffe on the train, FA in town (see earlier) and a bottle of red on the way back. 

The Damage:
29 travel 
22 ent
3 prog
1 ‘zine

The Tunes:
Before We Forgot How To Dream – Soak
30 Something – Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine
Mixmag July ’14  - Scuba
Mixmag June ’14 – Seth Troxler
Parallel Lines - Blondie

Half time panorama

I do like the colours at Vale Park though.

BFC 0-0 Scunthorpe United, Saturday 25th March 2016

“Before I make a mistake, I don’t make that mistake.” (Johan Cruyff, R.I.P.)

Grove Street, home of the Super Reds

The writing was on the wall before this match, as international call ups for our loan crew, as well as injuries, meant 4 forced changes.  No Winnall and Watkins, or Fletcher and Isgrove…or even that bloke from Everton we’re teaching to be a fullback.  Does that mean 5 changes then?  So, the excuses can start there.  In came Scowen, Aidey White (welcome back!), Chapman and Toney (welcome back!)  One of these had a half decent game.

Anyone would think we're at Wembley next week

Scunny ripped us to pieces that 1^st half.  Or did we rip ourselves to pieces? Defenders tried (and failed) to pass the ball around the back 4 and Scunny were gifted balls in promising positions in our own third.  The suicide missions appeared every 10 mins, but Davies saved an early one-on-one and 2 great chances were put wide, one by ex-Red Jim O’Brien, no less.  (Big Jim was later given a round of applause having been subbed, injured.)  Other half chances were equally spurned.
Talking of ex-Reds, they had Stephen Dawson bossing midfield.  I say bossing – he certainly had more possession than any of ours, despite his girth.  Sadly, there was no sign of Scott Wiseman, a player who I’m sure would’ve had a warm welcome.  Tw*t.

This week's minute's silence...for the Brussels bombings

Where was I?  Oh yes, Scunny really ought to have been out of sight by half time and we crawled in relieved, nil-nil.  The improvement in the second half could not have been avoided, we’d been that bad.  We finally had an effort on target, a superb save from a header (Roberts?)  Then Hourihane hit a screamer on the volley which nearly decapitated a defender, while another volley was blocked.  Finally, a free kick was tipped over, but it was easy for the keeper.  The half was another ‘huff and puff’ effort, without the incisive play of earlier form.  And when Hammill spent 5 minutes playing in one boot cos he didn’t know how to (un)tie a shoelace, that was it.

The Scunny midfield...on a wall in the East Stand.

*** Williams.  Another sound defensive performance, this time at his rightful place of right back.  Twitter MOTM.
** Roberts.  Looked solid next to his comedy partner, Alfie.  Still tried to give them a goal tho with a poor pass.* Hourihane.  Seemingly the only player interested in scoring for us. 2 super volleys, both blocked, and a free kick tipped over.

Londontykes' Top 3:
1. Roberts / Williams
3. Hourihane
Despatches:Hammill threatened to deceive wide left, but really, him and White didn’t gel as previous.  Maybe once Aidey is match fit?  Chapman was bloody awful.  If we had any subs, he’d have been off at half time.  Ditto Mawson, who was determined to let them score, with some crazy passing.  Someone tell him he’s not Beckenbauer (yet).  Brownhill was anonymous while Scowen ran around all keen but lost it every time he had it.  Think Brendan O’Connell without the ability.  The tactical plan to play one up top and spend the match hoofing it to him plainly didn’t work.  I really felt sorry for Toney (the loanee) who battled well but was often left isolated.  Overall, I’m hoping this was a hard earned point, rather than 2 lost, cos we didn’t deserve owt.  As my dad said ‘if they don’t score we might have a chance of a draw’.  

Oakwell in the sun

Drink du jour: Leffe, Erdinger, Birra Moretti and Asahi.  With plenty of vodka inbetween.  Yes, I fell asleep on the bus and had to walk back from the last stop…past the place I got knocked over t’other week.  Cheers.

Away: 813.  Superb turnout from one of the league’s littler teams.

The Damage:
27 train
5 mug
3 prog
2 fanzine

The Ponty v Scunny

'Irons, irons'

Looking toward the away end

Match action

Dawson and O'Brien in better days

Fleetwood 0-2 BFC, Saturday 19th March 2016

‘Welcome to Fleetwood – where breastfeeding is always welcome’

Welcome to...the local tanning centre.  Genius.

After last week’s promotion derailing, we’re back on track after a scrappy win at lowly Fleetwood.  The scene was set early doors when a backpass to their keeper bobbled like hell to him before he hoofed it away. This was not one for the purists.  Try as we might, we couldn’t seem to get the ball down, Hammill was permanently surrounded by 2 or 3 opponents and Davies kept booting it into touch (1^st half at least).

Little Lee continues to haunt me.  That IS Little Lee, right?

Of course, class shone through in the end….with my favourite, FAVOURITE goal of the season so far. A ball was lobbed over the top, it bounced high and their guy headed it magnificently over his own keeper from 20 yards out.  To be behind the goal, to see the keeper turn and give chase for a ball he was never gonna catch…pure joy.  Possibly made more so by the rare chance to stand on a terrace. Lest we forget, the defender’s panic was due to one Red harrying him, while, out of the corner of his eye, he could see another Red legging it towards the keeper.  Small details, big goals.

That was early, 2^nd half and just the goal needed to start playing some football.  For THEM to start playing some football.  For the next 20 odd minutes their #8 (Ryan?) ran the game while we retreated into our half and hoped they had no-one up front. They didn’t.  (Actually, they had Shola Amoebi followed by Devante Cole.  How the mighty…etc)

Tell me I'm seeing things: a stand behind a stand

Then we sent Scowen on for Fletcher, re-jigged the formation and bossed it.  How good must this team be if Scowen can’t get a start?  He proceeds to have our 1^st shot on target (blocked) before sealing victory with a header off a corner.  Isn’t he, like, 5 foot 2?  Must have been the quality of the delivery!  (One for Loko, as Hourihane’s 8^th corner of the match results in a Barnsley player getting his head to it first).  Cue celebrations in the away end….’put the champagne on ice, we’re going to Wembley twice’ and a ditty about having the finest midfield in the world (which appeared to involve Hamill, Watkins, Scowen, Brownhill, Hourihane and Is-groooooove, but not necessarily in that order).  Should have added Winnall in there too....wasn't he midfield earlier this season?

The Barnsley (standing) hordes

*** Roberts.  A proper captain’s display…if only he were captain.  Dominated the aerial battles (in a game where the ball was usually in the air) and made some brutal tackles, including sending the ball and player off the pitch with one particularly champion challenge.  In a day for old-skool football, it suited him down to the ground.
** Scowen.  15 minutes of class.
* Williams.  Solid defensively.

Londontykes' Top 3:
1. Roberts
2. Mawson
3. Scowen / Williams

Christ, even Fleetwood have an electronic scoreboard

Despatches:Davies was poor in his kicking, but saved us 1^st half when Everton youngster Connolly was skinned and he was forced into a save.  The latter improved as the game went on.  As has been said, the ref was something else.  I’m not sure how many times you can get simple decisions wrong, but he managed it.  Late on, as Scowen tussled (ie, wound up) a Codhead, said Codhead lashed out at his face.  Cue Scowen booked and their bod walking away scot-free.  ‘You fat c*nt’ berated one Reds fans, who, when warned about his language, quickly hollered ‘you portly c*nt, ref!’  I shouldn’t moan, been a while since I’ve been part of a rousing chorus of ‘you fat ba5tard’.

The rest of the team were much of a muchness. No-one stood out, no-one was awful. 

Spot the home 'flags', cleverly painted on.

Drink du jour: After getting a bus from Blackpoo and fish and chips in one of Fleetwood’s many fish and chip emporiums (emporia?), we ignored the 2 pubs in the high street for Andy to take us to the CAMRA pub slightly off the beaten track (but still near the ground) – and what a find this was.  3 different wheat beers on tap. A Rathaus and a Konig Ludwig for me.  Shame we had to leave for the match, but we did pop back for a celebratory one afterwards, having lost Phil who was in more of a rush than us anyway.  A bottle of red for the train and I took ULTRA care that I didn’t fall asleep on the bus or get knocked over this week.  (My knee is still a mix of yellow and purple, btw).

The Damage:
23 ent
1
27 train
5 bus (to and from Blackpool)


Away:  986

Camera gantry

Nice touch at the (quality) local.  Highly recommended.

I spot a team coach.

Fleetwood's pride and joy

The teams come out

The view from the terrace

Behind the goal panorama

This Way.

Corner flag panorama

BFC 0-2 Southend United, Saturday 12th March 2016

‘Why are you not drunk?’

Barnsley, yesterday.

I may well remember this game forever, who knows?  Or at least the aftermath.  Having been on the bus and crossed the river on the way home, and congratulated myself on still being awake…I fell asleep.  Woke up in an unfamiliar part of town (it was only the other side of Peckham, I knew the Nags Head rang a bell).  And so, while I headed back towards home, looked right, waited for a car to pass, I crossed…and, while f***ing around with my headphones…stopped in my tracks as a car came straight toward me from my left…and time stood still.  It was bizarre.  I could see it coming, it braked…but not enough that it didn’t stop before hitting me and throwing me a metre or 2 backwards, onto the road.  I’ve never been knocked over before, it really was freaky.  Luckily, it hit my bad knee (true: ask Kings College Hospital physio) but the driver sat motionless.  Now, I know someone who knocked someone down through no fault of their own (not me) and it was quite traumatic.  So, having got up (I was fine - ish) I found myself apologising profusely for being knocked over.  The driver (an African lady) had stopped but needed encouragement to wind down her window.  Probably expected me to punch her.  (She opened her door, looking shocked).  I think she’d thought the worst.  ‘I’m really sorry, it wasn’t your fault.’  The driver behind had stopped too, causing a bit of a tailback (we have those late at night in Peckham) while the doorman at a nearby club saw it all and couldn’t believe I was simply walking away from it.  And I wouldn’t mind, but I wasn’t even on the vodka tonite.  A close shave all round.

Matching his and his jackets on the way to the match.

Well, all good things must come to an end, and come to an end they did today.  A bad day all round, as, apart from being knocked over, the train from Donny was cancelled (signal failure) and we had to get a taxi, the Super Reds lost…and I didn’t see either of the goals wot beat us. Sarfend scored early doors and I could hear the ripple of a cheer as I reached the corner of the East and Ponty.  Still, nice to give them a head start, considering we’d won 11 in 13 and they’d lost their last 3 on the road.  I got inside to see Jeff Stelling tell us ‘there’s been a goal at Oakwell’.  Great – a lack of Premiership action today sees Sky Sports pay a rare visit, just in time to see us go down.  ‘Route 1’ he said, Sarfend picking up the pieces from a hoof from the keeper.  (This was a shame, since I thought Marc Roberts has continued his recent improvement…but whose fault was it if not the centre halves?) 

Welcome to ....

Their 2^nd, deep into injury time, I missed cos I wanted to beat the rush, having an early train an’ all (it was 25 minutes late – told you it was a bad day all round).  ‘And the scorer is…..’ the tannoy announced.  I thought ‘I already KNOW the goalscorer.  Oh, they’ve got a 2^nd.’  I s’pose I’m not gonna add owt the other Londontykes haven’t already said.  We huffed, we puffed…we created naff all.  Winnall hit a 25 yarder I screamed at him not to (‘you’re never gonna score from there!’) and I was right…tho it fizzed narrowly wide.  From memory, I think Mawson hit a free kick down the keeper’s throat.  (On that note, why did Hourihane walk away from said free kick? Surely our best chance of scoring is in unnerving the keeper as to who will take it…the left footer or the right.)  And Hammill cut inside and hit one…but didn’t connect too well, easy save.  And someone on the backpost heading into side netting (Watkins?) from a peach of a Hammill cross.  From the East Stand it looked a goal.  Otherwise, despite all of our possession in their half, and some promising breaks, the clear cut chances didn’t come.

Penalty area action

Oh yes – and we missed a penalty.  Fletcher rounded the keeper and was brought down.  Clear penalty, and presumably a sending off, since it looked like he was about to tap it into the empty net.  Now, I haven’t seen it on TV, so I’ve no idea why the keeper wasn’t sent off.  Was it running away from Fletch?  Were the ref and linesman clueless?  I dunno, but I’m not blaming them for Hourihane kicking a ball wide from 12 yards.  (That's the 3^rd penalty he’s missed for us – that I remember).  Must have been the pressure, 3^rd division fixture, at home, in front of a 6000 stand populated by 300 and odd.  Bless.  And I’m not blaming the ref for our further inability to bag for the hour that was left either.

Hourihane blazes his pen wide

*** Fletcher of Man U.  Looked good as the figurehead up front.  Woulda been even better if anyone had given him a chance.  Twitter MOTM.

** Roberts.  Looks better and better.  Though it helps I didn’t see either of their goals!

* Mawson.  As above.  The ying to Roberts yang.  Or something.


Londontykes' Top 3:
1. Fletcher
2. Mawson
3. Williams

Despatches:At one point today (when Fletch was subbed)  I started panicking: I thought we only had one loan player on the pitch.  Being late and unobservant, I had no idea we had some Everton player in for Bree at right back.  I’m pleased we’re not bringing on our own players, especially when there’s the readymade answer in our own team:  put Williams at right back and bring back Smith on the left.  The writing must really be on the wall for George Smith these days.  Rated by seemingly nobody at Oakwell, even after Little Lee has left.  I am dumbfounded, given he was one of the brighter lights in our appalling 1^st few months.  Another quality return was that of the Winnall hissyfit.  Losing one-nil and time running out, a decision (rightly) goes against him.  Cue said moron blasting the ball into the crowd for a yellow card.  Sarfend, who have spend considerable portions of the 2^nd half timewasting must have been p***ing themselves.  Pr*ck.

The Southenders

It was good to see another couple of blasts from the past too;  Hicksy made it to the Old Number 7.  Chin up, kid!  And I bumped into Caton in the gentlemen’s at Oakwell.  Chin up, kid!  (Non) marital breakups, strokes…thank goodness we have the Super Reds to cheer us up!!!!!!!!
Drink du jour: Oh yeah.  Train delayed so no time for Sainsburys; instead an East European offy in Wakey;  £2.99 bottle of red, which was almost drinkable.  Almost.  At least the non-existent earlier train allowed us to jump into a taxi and be in Barnsley even earlier than usual, so an extra Erdinger or 2 pre-match.
Away: 396.  Not bad.
The Damage: 
19 train
5 taxi
49 tracksuit top
49 tracksuit top
20 t-shirt (x2)
20 t-shirt (x2)

The lesser-spotted BFC unofficial merchandise stall.

The Ponty (backside)

The Ponty (frontside)

A small girl shows Hourihane how it's done

The old Main Stand

At least one area of Oakwell is full

Eintracht Frankfurt 1-1 Ingolstadt, Saturday 5th March 2016

Eintracht Frankfurt 1-1 Ingolstadt, Bundesliga (att. 40,000)

Welcome to ....

While my soulmate is away on business, I elect to take another cheeky sojourn to the continent to catch some Bundesliga.  This week it's Eintracht Frankfurt and a chance to visit one of them there World Cup 2006 venues; one of those with the 4 sided video screens suspended over the centre circle, rather like in ice hockey stadia.

You know...like this.

Despite knowing full well where the Commerzbank Arena is, I still managed to f*** up my transport there, idiotically following a group of teens who were obviously going to the game (but turned out had never been before).  Why else would I/we end up going in the wrong direction and being forced to change en masse at Griesheim?  I did wonder why the older Eintracht fans weren't getting on our train.  I should have trusted my instincts.  Still, I had 2 bottles of Paulaner for company and it wasn't too long before a train arrived and I doubled back to where it began; Frankfurt Hbf.

The forest (stadium) trail...

The Commerzbank Arena (née Waldstadion, or Forest Stadium) is a couple of miles across the river from Frankfurt centre, and as the old name implies, is in the middle of a forest.  Thus at the station ('Stadion' or somesuch obviousness) you have to walk half a mile through wooded entrails.  On a warm, March day, this was very pleasant.  An array of drink and souvenir stalls dotted the path to the stadium, while a large beer garden lay just the other side of the rail track from the stadium itself.  All very organised, all very German.

See over there?  Beer garden!

I arrived without a ticket, gambling on there being plenty on sale on the day.  Eintracht were struggling against relegation and playing the most poorly supported of all Bundesliga teams, Ingolstadt.  As it was, once I spotted the ticket booths, I hit on an idea.  Presuming the home terrace was sold out (the home terrace is ALWAYS sold out in the Bundesliga; you will do well to pick up a fabled cheap standing ticket) then what about the away end?  After all, hardly anybody supports Ingolstadt - even in Ingolstadt.  (It's not too far from Munich, so they have an excuse.)  I asked if there were standing tickets left in the away end and the lady in the box office/portacabin looked surprised I was asking.  'Of course' (meaning the lack of away support).  €17.  Not bad, tho' I've had cheaper.

A rather unglamorous ticket booth

The stadium itself is a grand thing, standing high on a hill on 3 sides.  The effect is somewhat offset though by large metal fences everywhere, so it's all a bit cheerless once you reach the arena.  Even worse is the march to the away end: note to self, next time go CLOCKWISE around the ground, or else face going a long way out of my way, including, at one point, a hike beside an autobahn.  I even had to ask directions once, despite the stadium being RIGHT THERE, so unsure was I that I was ever going to reach an entrance.

Despite it being RIGHT THERE, I still can't get in.

Upon arriving, I was searched in depth by someone who enjoys their job a little bit too much.  As I emptied my pockets, he took a special interest in one item.  'What's that?' he asked.  'It's a...pen.  You write with it.'  I may even have mimed writing, I can't remember.  He looked relieved.  I looked exasperated.  Later, I was lightly searched every time I went for food or toilet; oddly, you technically leave the stadium for these things.  So, if you like being searched, the Commerzbank Arena is the place for you.

The stadium plan...if it helps.

Once within the perimeter fencing, you can wander where you like in the stadium surrounds but with 15 mins to kick off, I was a bit worried: be late to the terrace and be hemmed in with a crap view.  I should have had no such worries, it was barely a quarter full.  Seems a first ever season in the Bundesliga hasn't captured the Ingolstadt imagination.  In a prosperous city that is the home of Audi, perhaps they'd rather be driving their cars?  

A couple of Ingolstadters capture their 'I was there' moment.

I took a perch behind a crush barrier (on which I placed my coat; it really was rather warm) and enjoyed an excellent view without being bustled.  Struggling Eintracht overran little Ingolstadt for 7 whole minutes before Die Schanzer (I've no idea what Ingolstadt's nickname means) ran up the pitch and won a pen.  The home fans went mad, but every attacking Ingolstadter stopped and appealed. Handball?  It was at the far end and impossible for me to confirm.  Easily slotted, 0-1.  The rest of the half was end to end with the away side wasting the best opportunity, the centre forward going clean through and lifting the ball over the bar.  Half time and another beer.  No queues either.  I must go and watch Ingolstadt more often.

The teams are paraded.

2nd half and Die Schanzer were still in control and their 50 or so ultras were in good voice - as much as 50 in a 50,000 stadium can be.  With Eintracht looking ever more desperate and committing men forward more in hope than expectation, Ingolstadt looked the more likely on the break.  However, complacency set in, the away side didn't go for the jugular, and Frankfurt got a goal out of nothing.  A header from a cross?  I don't remember.  

Die Schanzer ultras.  All of them.

Then, as if to make up for giving the away side a penalty, the ref tries to even it up by sending an Ingolstadt player off for a 2nd yellow.  I'd have said it was no worse than several unpunished Eintracht fouls; did the incessant moaning of the home fans pressurise the ref?  Either way, Frankfurt failed to notch in the 20 minutes they had v 10 men and Ingolstadt still looked the likelier; playing without the worry of relegation probably helped.  

Us and them.  This is them.

As it was, there were no more goals.  No doubt Ingolstadt were the happier, with Eintracht still mired near the bottom.  They remain 16th - 3rd off bottom.  Finishing 16th will mean a play-off decider with the side who finish 3rd in Bundesliga 2. Whatever happens, they can't say it won't be an interesting finish to their season.


The Damage:

€17 ent
€2 prog
€2.80 train from Frankfurt Hbf
€4 badge (x2)
€4.20 beer (x3)  Brilliant, a wheat beer option: Krombacher Weizen
= €42.40 (£33)

Pre-match panorama

91 as for 71.  One-all.

Frankfurt: capital of money.  Euromoney.

One man and his scarves.

Another's collection.

The main entrance.

The home terrace.

...and again.

The teams ready themselves.

Match action.

Everyone hates Red Bull...

A fab salutes her heroes at full time.

I can only presume it's not a good thing to be Burger King.

One man surveys his kingdom.

Toilets, virtually spotless.

Panorama from halfway line.

Panorama showing the home end.