Arsenal 1-2 Eintracht Frankfurt, Thursday 28th November 2019

Arsenal 1-2 Eintracht Frankfurt, Europa League, official att. 49,419 (ha!)

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Finally, finally…after about 15 matches, I’ve seen The Arse lose at the Emirates.  I didn’t think it was possible.  With a whimper too, as a team containing at least half a dozen players I wouldn’t recognise in the street, throw away a half-time lead.  It must have been embarrassing, for they sacked head coach Unai Emery the following day (well, if rivals Spurs can sack Pochetino whilst still being in the Champions League, surely it’s the least Arsenal can do).  This was an 8^th game without a win, a lifetime with their expectations.  (My own team, Barnsley, are currently 17 without a win.  Beat that, Arsenal.)

Full time.  Unai Emery R.I.P.

Turns out fans couldn’t give tickets away for this one.  Around 30,000 were expected tonite (though official figures won’t reflect that, counting season-ticket holders who’ve had no choice but to pay for tickets in Europe’s secondary cup competition).  I gratefully accepted an offer to fill in for one, while I was offered another ticket on the night.  Thursday nite is 5 aside nite for me and my buddies, and normally, these days, we struggle for numbers when it’s Europa League and Arsenal are at home – half the players are Arse fans of some level.  Still, dedication to both causes from one, Mani, who’ll sacrifice 20 minutes of Arsenal to see our own game through.

This is what 49,000 looks like at The Emirates.

I really like coming to these Euro games.  The away side invariably fill the away end, bringing 3000+, and make enough noise to make up for the rest of The Library.  So I was disappointed to learn on the day that Eintracht had been banned from receiving tickets due to earlier naughtiness in Guimaraes.  Furthermore, Arsenal had limited sales on their secondary ticketing procedure.  I wouldn’t even have an atmosphere.  Great.

The naughty boys' end.

I arrived about 20 mins in too, having tied my horse bike up outside the Co-op.  I like arriving late; no queues, and an empty staircase.  I was soon next to my mate Rod, in the upper tier, right behind the goal.  However, like me, he’s become disillusioned with (modern) football and couldn’t wait to have a beer.  He lasted 20 minutes before ‘beating the rush’.  What rush?  There was nobody here.  He missed Arsenal’s goal.  Martinelli drove it across from the right, a teammate dummied, and Aubameyang drove it low, off the keeper’s legs and the bar, before nestling in the net.  He’s one of the luckiest (best?) finishers I know.  Everything he hits seems to go in.  I joined Rod for beer.

My favourite Emirates game: spotting the cannon.

There was humour too, from those fans present when the Gunners scored; chants of ‘You’re not singing anymore’ to the empty away section followed by ‘Shall we sing a song for you?’ and, with delicious irony, ‘Your support is f***ing s***’.  Only the Eintracht fans weren’t as non-existent as they ought.  Once they were ahead, the Frankfurters could be heard (yet not seen) at the Clock End (save for a topless gentleman who could only have been an away fan).   The middle (corporate) section looked suspiciously full at the away end, let’s just say that.  Arsenal apparently wait with baited breathe how UEFA will react for their apparent failure to invoke the ban in its completeness.

Eintracht woz ere.  A sticker finds its way onto a cannon.

Arsenal (the players) created little, second half – but we had a great view of Eintracht’s two goals.  We were still supping, chatting rubbish, and following the game on one of the screens under the stand.  We weren’t the only ones.  Japanese international Kamada won it with two super finishes, a left foot curler into the far corner and a low right footed drive, both from around 20 yards.  Only then did we take our seats again.  I mean, you don’t come to football to stand on a concourse, drinking beer and watching it on a screen…do you?  I said we were disillusioned.  Anyway, I hear Arsene Wenger’s available…

The Damage:

£0 ent (cheers Rod!)
£10.40 beer x 2 (Camden Pale Ale, I think)
= £10.40

The Tunes:
Imidiwan (Tinariwen)
La Radiolina (Manu Chao)

Arsenal go through...Unai gets sacked.

Blackburn Rovers 3-2 BFC, Saturday 23rd November 2019

‘It’s alright lads, I’ve brought my lucky wet crotch.’

Welcome to....Jack Walker FC

The last time I went to Blackburn it was 30 odd years ago, we won 1-0 and Clive Baker made a double save from a penalty.  Great days.  Fast forward to 2019, and Ewood Park is transformed.  Gone are the small terraces behind each goal (and the actual terrace – wot people lived in – compulsorily purchased by the council, just so’s the Jack Walker-backed Rovers could have a stadium befitting their future.  In the bottom half of division 2.)

Mill Hill.  One Londontyke keeps lookout while another withdraws cash.

So it is, there are 17,000* empty seats today, while they cram the travelling support into one side of the upper tier.  The Londontykes are on the back row, and this has consequences, as I draw blood in my support for the Super Reds by twice fisting the roof jumping up celebrating us scoring.  Yeah, yeah, you’d think I’d learn – but surely celebrating a goal is INSTINCTIVE, unless, of course, you’re stuck in the parallel universe that is the Premiership and VAR.

*problies closer to 20,000, actually, as there can’t have been more than 10,000 home fans.  Ewood Park makes Oakwell look full.

The home end at Ewood Sparse.

YES, we scored 2.  And conceded 3.  Thus, Stuber surely becomes our worst manager in history (statistically), averaging 0.0 points.  Bring back Murray (average across 5 games, 0.6)!  But Stuber makes a difference.  The Austrian has made 5 changes and stuck in every German speaker we have.  Good on him.  Communication is key!  Collins is dropped in goal, for Radlinger, the least dominating tall keeper we’ve had since Paul Malcolm (Clive Baker’s hapless understudy).  Actually, maybe that’s harsh.  I just can’t think of any big keepers we’ve had since Lars Leese and Heinz Muller (ironically, both German. Unironically, both better than Radlinger.)  Bahre was back too.  I was rather hopeful he’d take to the higher level of football, but no.  He’s the modern day Mike Sheron, forever destined to be on a different wavelength to everyone else.  Schmidt was given a runout too.  A first start?  Hopefully last too, dragged off at half-time.  Did he even get a kick?  I bet the less-than-Great Dane Mads Andersen can speak Germanic too.  He can f*** off.

Skill and Labour (Google tells me).

But hey ho.  We put up a fight, we were better than them for long periods.  We outshot them.  We out mis-shot them.  We had more corners.  We were the better team.  We lost.  We went one down after 20 odd minutes.  Was it Rovers’ 1^st attack?  Mads took the blame, a mislaid pass being picked up in midfield and they cut through us.  But who was it he gave it to, who couldn’t be ar5ed to stick out a leg?  Mowatt?  A throughball, a mad keeper running out for no reason, a squared ball and an empty net.  We just give the opposition goals.

What's with the concrete pathway at the front?

Down at half-time, the manager brings on Dougall and Chaplin.  Why’s he dropped the former?  Been our best player (apart from Woodrow) since he came back.  Within 3 minutes we have equalised, as Brown drives into the box and lays it off for Chaplin to hit it early.  THE MANAGER’S A GENIUS!  It’s all us, as we pile/meander forward hoping to score another.  We don’t.  They do.

A rare forage upfield for the homesters leaves Stewart Downing free on the edge of our box.  The completely left-footed worst signing in Liverpool’s history (ok, maybe not as bad as Benteke or Carroll) drills it home from 20 yards with his RIGHT foot.  How does this always happen to us?  His 1^st goal in a year or summink.  That Forest bloke the other month, I think it was his 1^st goal in 3 years.  I’m not claiming bad luck though.  Mere incompetence.  Nobody has consistently let in 20 yarders over the last 10 years like we have. 

...cos it doesn't look good when people escape with match in progress.

Our loyal support (we are at the back with the idiots/young uns) shuts the f*** up again, just like they did after Rovers’ 1^st.  ‘Your support is f***ing s***’ they were crowing earlier.  (It was/is by the way.)  These youngsters though, seems they won’t sing with us oldies.  Maybe cos we have nothing in our repertoire which references the Pope or the IRA.  WTF?  These little pr*cks weren’t even alive when I moved to London and the underground was constantly held up with bomb scares.  Or when Victoria Station was bombed with Nice Guy Chris actually in it.  If only we had anyone in our crew who could teach these numbskulls something about History!

The view from the back.

But it’s alright, cos they find their voices again after 82 minutes, a marvellous piece of improv from Cauley seeing him thrust his chest out to direct it home for the equaliser.  Or via his hand as the media put it.  For the record, he was right in front of us, and you could see him physically stick his chest out as the ball hits it.  It’s party time again, and another chance to fist the roof.  I love fisting (!)
But can we hold out for the draw?  Draw?  F*** that.  We pile forward, Mowatt hits a shot which deflects to a wrong-footed Cauley.  The latter has a piledriver tipped over.  And then it happens.  One attack, one goal.  It’s bad enough we can’t defend the 1^st ball in, but we can’t defend the 2^nd either, as Rovers win the 1^st header, then Dack is somehow on his own between 2 defenders.  This happens every single f***ing week.  The header is saved, but before our defenders work out what month we’re getting relegated in, Dack has put the rebound in.  3-2, we’re doomed (doomed, I tell ya!)  Still, there’s always the journey back…

Onwards and…downwards!

*** Cauley.  I’ll miss him when he’s gone. 

** Chaplin.  Actually looked like a footballer, and did what forwards are MEANT to do, score.  That’s 2 he’s got this season.

* Ben Williams.  Comfortable in possession and ably supported the attack (though it showed how slow our attacks were, that he could keep up).

Londontykes' MOTM: 1. Ben Williams 2. (Cauley) Woodrow 3. Mowatt

Ewood Park

Despatches:‘Oi! Redcoat!’  Yes, as we walked into town for the deserved beer we never got (train times and the fact Blackburn is twinned with Scunthorpe and Burslem meant we were unable), I overtook some of the Barnsley yoof.  ‘They’re Blackburn’ I heard one scrote say (I had Loko and Selwood just behind me, so good luck lads).  ‘Which way is t’station?’ said testicle asked, in a poorly disguised fishing attempt to see if I was ‘one of them’.  I told him I had no idea, but knew it was somewhere in the town centre, (for which I was following a sign).  ‘Where you from?’ he enquired.  Now, I’m not used to making friends at my age.  Did he want it factual?  ‘I’m from a small town in County Durham called Ferryhill.  Are you aware of said former village mining community, squire?’  Or did he mean the less literal ‘where do you live?’  ‘Well, kind sir, I’m from a lively inner city South London locality called Peckham.  Has one ever partaken in a visit to said realm?’  No, while I considered my response, Loko gave them a terse ‘We’re Barnsley’.  He didn’t add ‘knobheads’ but there was definitely a word missing which hung in the air like the braincell said yoof had borrowed for the day.  Jesus.

The stroll from the pub to Ewood.

We also discovered it was a false economy going into Blackie for the fast train to Preston, as it stopped at Mill Hill (not that one) anyway, ie, we could have gone for another beer near the ground and caught the train from up that way.  Next time.  If there’s ever a next time.

Pre-match, we got off at Mill Hill.  A place that would consider it an honour to be called ‘drab’ even if the sun was out (it wasn’t).  I believe only two businesses were doing any business, as far as I could see.  The betting shop, and the pub (once we got there).  The north – what a place.  (Only kidding, Molly.  Just checking yer reading!)  Still, the pub was friendly enough, having two very strokable dogs in it.  And it’ll stay memorable for a while yet, as some idiot, rocking on his chair, landed on Dave’s foot….he yelped and upset the table, and an entire pint went over Nice Guy Chris, who didn’t seem happy that said idiot was now laughing.  But I couldn’t help it.  If only the wet lap didn’t belong to a man of retirement age…Still, it was nice to get an idea of how the day would go, eh Chris?

Ewood towering over nearby terraces.

The players?  Radlinger made no difference whatsoever, and if I’m being stat-happy, he’s averaging 3 goals a game when I’ve seen him (once).  Diaby, Mads, Halme…it doesn’t matter how many centre halves we have, there’ll still be a gap somewhere.  Sibbick had a mare of Cavare proportions at right back.  Mowatt was tidy, if unspectacular.  Bahre flitted in and out (mainly out) without ever seeing the ball.  Brown looked the part 2^nd half, as he was allowed to play in midfield.  How’s he ever going to develop if he plays a different position every week?  And I thought Dougall and Thomas looked alright when they came on…but problies cos I like Dougall and Thomas.

We never did get that pint in Blackburn.  Nor Preston, where we changed trains. Still, they do have a Greggs open till 9 and a Sainsbury.  It’d been a long day, but there was salvation in the form of the Euston Tap.  After being on the road for nigh on 12 hours, we were finally in a decent boozer, in civilisation.    

I like the potted history of Rovers on one corner...

Drink du jour: Leffe, Stella, Punk Dead Pony, Punk IPA, random wheat beer at £6 a pop.

Away: c.1300

The Damage:
£40 train
£25 ent
£3 prog
= £68

The Tunes:
Just For A Day (Slowdive)
Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space (Spiritualized)

Ewood panorama

The 1880s.  The Golden Years.

Ewood's scoreboard.  Not much use to us.

Rammed.

The Jack Walker Stand.

Nearly forgot...our new flag made it's (losing) debut.  Cheers Dave!

BFC 2-4 Stoke City, Saturday 9th November 2019

‘3 of my favourite 4 moments of the day involved going to the toilet’

Welcome to...Oakwell at 3:05pm

Cars have an obvious advantage over trains: flexibility.  Go where you like, when you like.  ‘Cept when you’re forced off the A1 due to flooding, you’re stuck in a traffic jam and you’re desperate for a p***.  And that wasn’t the 8 year old in the car, that was ME.  Yes, what a day.  Nevermind the result (can it get any worse?)…it took the best part of 6 hours to drive from Sidcup to Barnsley and we were lucky to make kick-off.  No time for beers, no time to see anyone, no time for chish and fips (unless you were prepared to miss kick-off; I was.  I was starving and I knew a trip to the chippy would provide more enjoyment than anything I’d see at Oakwell.)

I got in about 5 past 3.  I thought I was later.  As I walked down the hill to Oakwell, I could see (and not hear) the stadium in complete silence.  I honestly thought the match had started, but no, it was the obligatory Remembrance Day minute’s silence.  And what makes one prouder of our nation’s heroes than catching sight of three of them, in full uniform, enjoying a fag outside the East Stand as I entered?  (As a member of the armed forces, I guess there’s more ways to worry about death than cancer.)

A decent away turnout (I later learnt they'd had free travel).

I timed my entrance well though, in time for the opening (comedy) goal…which I still missed due to checking the teams on my phone.  Keeper Collins takes a free kick from the right back spot, plays it along the floor straight to Clucas, who wellies it in from just inside our half.  Wouldn’t have happened with Adam Davies in goal – he’d have sliced it into the stand.  (As an aside, I was told Davies DID have a role to play today, earning his reputed £19k/week at Stoke by helping the forwards with shooting practice.)  Oakwell historian Dave Wood told me at half time he couldn’t remember the Super Reds scoring a goal from that range, but I remember a Chron report in the 80s once describing a John MacDonald 45 yard effort.  Grimsby H, midweek?

Brilliant.  One down after 8 mins to a comedy goal to the only team below us in the table.  Could it get any worse?  (You know it could…)  We attack the away end and have the proverbial penalty appeal turned down.  Even I thought it was a pen, as some Stokie handles the ball above his head.  But maybe that’s a ‘natural position’ in Hanley, I dunno.  A minute later, James McClean finds himself one-on-one with Mowatt in the box.  No contest.  He dummies one way, goes the other, and Mowatt takes him out.  So much for the Ponty booing the Catholic non-respector of Our Fallen.  Pen despatched.  We’ve played well, we’ve had chances, and we’re losing.  Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before…(Jonesy was playing The Smiths in the car earlier - perhaps we should have this on repeat?)

Like our season, it's all a blur.  Stoke bag #2 from the spot.

Nothing to worry about though.  We gave a better side than Stoke a two goal headstart last week and STILL got a draw, so….we pull one back not long after half time.  Sub Thomas plays McGeehan in, and the miscontrol is rescued by a toepoke high into the net.  GAME ON!!!!  It gets even better, as Thomas is chopped down in the box for a pen….except it never happened.  The ref somehow misses it and Mowatt drags the ball wide from a good position.  I’m in the East Upper and it looked nailed on.  Jonesy and Loko either side of the Ponty confirm it.  And none of us are biased, are we?

Stoke wrap it up, 1-3, 1-4.  The 3^rd is a scramble off a corner.  I thought one of our players was fouled, but no, I’ve since seen it on telly and 2 of our defenders crash into each other trying to clear.  We are hapless.  Then Thomas loses the ball running sideways in our own half and a loose ball runs to Clucas to slam another one in, this time from a mere 25 yards.  Seems he also injured himself kicking the ball too hard.  That’ll teach him.

The Ponty v Stoke.

Oh, and nearly forgot.  Schmidt came on and scored.  Mowatt, rather than continue his impression of Stephen McPhail by looking incredibly assured and only kicking the ball sideways, sprang the offside trap with a through ball and Schmidt, in acres of space, ran onto it and finished like a pro.  Still, no pressure when you’re out the game.  We never threatened again.

It is not even mid-November and time is running out.  It would be nice, presuming we’re going down, to do it with more than a whimper, but I don’t see it.  ‘Should we give Murray the job?’ asked Jonesy.  No.  Will we?  Undoubtedly.  He’s cheap, and grateful.  From doing nothing much as Mansfield boss, to our head coach…yeah, I’d take that as well.  And whilst some saw it as promising that we’d drawn against 2 or 3 decent teams…and kidded themselves that ‘we look more solid’….we’ve now lost to Stoke and Huddersfield, the only teams who’d been below us since October.  We’re also scoring in every game – but conceding more.  Murray now averages 0.6 points a game.  Yeah, f*** it, give him the job.  Records are there to be broken and I reckon we could be down by February if we REALLY put our minds to it.

Onwards and…downwards!

*** No-one.  Everyone had something wrong with their game. 
** No-one.  Did anyone do enough to warrant a star?
* No-one.  Absolute garbage.

Londontykes' MOTM: 1. No-one 2. No-one 3. No-one

Our 'loyal' support leaves early.  Again.

Despatches:‘They’re there for the taking.’  I got a text from Wadd, sometime at the start of the second half.  Shame I didn’t read it till 1-4.  ‘Yes.  We only need 4 more.’

Collins.  Maaaan….of all the days.  The return of ex-keeper Adam Davies was no game to show he can do worse.  Made a couple of great saves later, once we’d lost.  Cavare.  Will someone tell him he still has to defend, even if he looks half decent ON the ball.  Sibbick.  Doesn’t suit this 3 man central defence at all.  Shame.  Halme.  Looked less assured than previous.  So much for ‘building up an understanding’ Diaby. I continue to have my doubts. Someone this size can’t turn or jump. Dougal...actually, was maybe alright. Maybe. McGeehan, in for Wilks, scored, but did little else. Cauley wasn’t bad tho. He won’t be here next season.

And did I mention Jonesy also gave a lift to his Stokie mate? And fair play to him, he didn’t rub it in. I think he was too ill.

Drink du jour: a solitary Franziskaner in the car.

Away: 3,266?  Something like that.

The Damage:
£20 petrol
= £20

The Tunes:

The Eminem Show (Eminem)
Triangulation (Scuba)
Claustrophobia (Scuba)

East Stand panorama v Stoke.

Ponty panorama v Stoke (cheers Jonesy!)

A present left on my desk, Monday morning.  Thanks.