KAS Eupen 1-4 Royal Antwerp, Sunday 28th July 2019

KAS Eupen 1-4 Royal Antwerp, 1st Division A, att. 4,000 (Stadion am Kehrweg)

Welcome to...you'll never know!

One of the advantages of a country of the relative smallness of Belgium is that if fixtures are kind, you can see two games in a day at the weekend.  So it was, having seen Vinny Kompany’s return to Anderlecht earlier, I hopped on a Metro to Brussels Central and was straight on to a direct train to Eupen, near the border with Germany.

This also meant going without food, which cost me later (literally), paying about €6 for a bratwurst at the game.  Scandalous, but if I said one thing about Eupen: there’s not a lot to it.  Least not late Sunday afternoon, and least not near the railway station.  I found a bar not too far away (near the bus station, handy for later).  €3 for an Erdinger and the company of 3 alcoholics (4 including present company).  A sign reckoned they had tomato soup on, but this did not look the place to eat.

There she is!  Over there!

Having located the bus station (I was catching a bus to Aachen in Germany after the match) I walked to the stadium, a steep hike to the top of a hill.  Good place for it too, as you could see the floodlights from miles away, even through the constant drizzle.  I arrived with 20 minutes to kick-off.  Plenty of time to buy a ticket, ‘cept they only had one ticket booth and 4 servers for a scrum of people.  What did they expect on matchday?  As the game kicked off, an official said we could now pay on the gate.  Those of us near the front of the queue didn’t move.

The ticket frenzy.

Eventually, I got my ticket.  Now, to get in.  ‘No bags allowed’ I was told AFTER going through the turnstile.  ‘Where can I put it?’  ‘In your car.’  ‘I came by train.’  This was the cue for junior to look for his boss and upon seeing the middle-aged English mess in front of him, he allowed me in.  ‘We make exception.’  Splendid chap!

As usual, I’d gone for the cheapest option, a €15 ticket behind the goal with the ultras.  Fortunately, there was plenty of space to the sides and I had the pick of the seating – or I could stand on a small paddock at the front.  The stand itself, which towered over the rest of the ground, was one of those metal scaffolding constructions which for all the world look and feel temporary, though at least the roof supports weren’t as intrusive as at Kiel the previous day.

Outside of the stand I was in.

I had though missed a goal.  Visitors Royal Antwerp were already leading and though they brought plenty of fans (at least a thousand) I couldn’t hear their cheers outside.  They looked like they were having a whale of a time, especially as the goals flowed second half.  I think every song they had was in English; certainly at 4-1 up they were chanting about being top of the league, but if you still want to hear ‘Let’s go f*** mental’ while fans bounce around ‘going mental’ (are we allowed to say this phrase anymore?), then Antwerp are your peeps.

The main core of the Antwerp support.

The rain at least brought a pace to the game.  There was none of this slow, methodical, continental build-up play.  This was ice hockey.  Still, the equaliser came out of the blue, a cracker of a 25 yard curler, over the keeper and into the far right top corner.  Stunning.

By now, I was hungry.  Or hungrier.  And so desperate was I that I was willing to put myself through their token system (once I’d found the booth selling tokens…at the far end of T3, the stand to my left).  I’d seen the prices and was mightily surprised, but still, I’d only paid €15 entrance so why not splurge €8 on a bratwurst and a small glass of Jupiler?  On an associated note, why, in a nation of beer drinkers is Jupiler, that most average of lagers, so popular?  The bratwurst was nothing to write home about either.  So much for being in the ‘German’ part of Belgium.

The Main Stand.

The equaliser had given Eupen heart and renewed vigour for the few hundred ultras, but KAS were no match for Antwerp…1-2….1-3…the game was over.  But I’ll say this for the home fans – they didn’t leave.  Unlike me, who nipped to the toilet for a pee and missed Antwerp’s 4^th.  It was Royal’s day (or night), but I had a bus to catch.  That slope would work in my favour this time.

The Damage:
€15 ent
€8 bratwurst and beer
= €23

The Tunes:
Four-Calendar Cafe (Cocteau Twins)
Black Sunday (Cypress Hill)

Stayed at: (cost)
A&O Hostel Aachen Hauptbahnhof, £14

Stadion am Kehrweg panorama

Match action.

Clearly defined ticket pricing.  A good thing.

Breeze block heaven?

The rest of the Royalists.

Block T3 (I'm not sure it had another name)

Not sure why Eupen split the away end.

Fans behind the goal.

The paddock at the front.

More action in front of the Main Stand ('T1')

Antwerp prepare to take a corner.

The cheerleader roars on the ultras.

The latest score.

Looking towards the home end ('T2')

Anderlecht 1-2 KV Oostende, Sunday 28th July 2019

Anderlecht 1-2 KV Oostende, First Division A, att. 19,000 (Lotto Park, AKA Constant Vanden Stock Stadium)

Welcome to...

There’s no doubt who the ‘star’ is today: it’s the homecoming of The King, Vincent Kompany, parachuted in as player-coach and already everyone’s favourite player,  judging by the replica shirts and pre-match tifo.  What can go wrong?

This was the second visit I’d paid to the Constant Vanden Stock stadium.  The last time, they proclaimed to have sold out – in a European qualifier against TNS, no less.  Really?  Anyway, I took no chances this time, buying my ticket online using the print@home facility.  All very easy, though I’m not sure there was the need for me to take a selfie of myself holding up my passport.  I felt like one of those kidnapped types, holding up that day’s newspaper. 

There is a new leader in town.

The journey to the stadium was easy too, once I’d found the Metro station inside Brussels Central Station.  The signage could be a little more obvious.  Or am I a bit slow?  From there, it’s the #5 a few stops, to St. Guido and follow the crowd of purple-clad fans.  (Actually, ‘mauve’, but whothehell knows the difference?)

Pre-match throng amongst the bars

There’s plenty of bars around the stadium, which I chose instead to circumnavigate.  It looks old and tired from the outside (I know the feeling) and it’s no surprise Anderlecht are looking to move on, to some 60,000 superdome or other.  Not that they could sell out their 26,000 stadium today, Vinny or no Vinny.  I got my satchel in, despite signs that no bags beyond A4 were allowed.  The steward gave it a cursory check, which was lucky as I was carrying the hand grenade of the football supporter, a bottle of water.  Mind, temperatures were down due to earlier rain, which should help the football here in July.

Looking a bit dated...'Lotto Park'.

After Vinny’s splendid welcome, Anderlecht tore into the minnows from the coast.  It was 1-0 early on, a smart move ending with a side-footed effort into the top corner from 12 yards.  Then, with barely 15 mins on the clock, the #40 tore down the left, pulled it back and a wonderful turn and shot made it 2-0.  Only it didn’t.  In my 1^st experience of VAR live, no-one had any idea why it wouldn’t be allowed.  Celebrations were still going on as Oostende were about to kick-off, before the ref gave the VAR signal and ordered a free kick to the away side.

Two-nil.  Ho ho.

At this point, I think most of us expected 5 or 6 nil, but within a couple of minutes Oostende had equalised, a right wing cut back being missed by two attackers before a 3^rd swept it low into the corner.  Reward for getting numbers up.  The scorer then  proceeded to stop and hold his hand up in apology.  A former ‘mauve’?  I’m tired of this…

Half-time came with Anderlecht wasting promising positions but looking vulnerable on the break (their keeper making one amazing save).  That said, he wasn’t all that proficient with the ball at his feet and looked a liability in Vinny’s attempts turn Anderlecht into the Belgian Manchester City.  It’s also not helped by a slow, lumbering centre half – no, not Vinny, but his mate, who looked every inch the English lower division defender.  I predict neither he nor the goalkeeper will last long.

Reminds me of QPR's stadium...

Anyway, so it was.  Anderlecht were indeed vulnerable on the break and Oostende won it with about 15 mins remaining, a throughball and easy finish (I think).  The defence put their hands up for offside, but they’re no Arsenal c.1995.  And in these days of VAR, what’s the point?  An unhappy homecoming for Vinny, then.  If only they’d played ‘Things can only get better’ at full-time.

Despatches: There were 4 groups of ultras supporting Anderlecht, but one thing I’d never seen before was the mobile cheerleader.  Basically, this bloke with his speaker would wander along the seats, disappear down an exit and pop up at the next one, trying to rouse the hordes.  I wanted to tell him.  I’d love to join in, mate – but I don’t speak French.

PLEASE join in.  'Non.'

The Damage:
£26 ent  (print@home)
= £26

The Tunes:
Phantom Brickworks (Bibio)
Behind the Counter with Max Richter (Various)
Watermark (Enya)
Garlands (Cocteau Twins)

Stayed at: (cost)
A&O Hostel Aachen Hauptbahnhof, £14

Constant Vanden Stock Stadium / Lotto Park panorama.

Residential street opposite stadium.

Entrance 2.

In case you forget.

Away fans.  Note the stickers on the glass to ruin the view.

The teams line up.

Full-time.

Looking to the far end.

Anderlecht chase a late equaliser.

OH Leuven 0-2 RSC Anderlecht, Sunday August 2nd 2015

OH Leuven 0-2 RSC Anderlecht (att. 8,364)

Welcome to ......

After a chilled weekend in Antwerp, it was back to the footie grind.  Leuven, an old university town, is worth a visit all of itself, all cobbles, cathedral and charming bars.  Nevermind that it’s also the home of Stella (the lager), it’s also the home of OH Leuven, whose stadium is a 2km walk south of the city centre and railway station.  The ‘H’ in their name stands for the suburb it’s in: ‘Heverlee’.
The match was against big boy local(ish) rivals Anderlecht and I doubted I’d be able to get a ticket, the stadium holding less than 10,000.  However, I e-mailed the club anyway.  I got the answer back a week later; apologies for the late reply, a ticket awaits you at the box office.  This contrasted most favourably with the response of AZ Alkmaar to a similar request: No, you can’t have a ticket.  You need to be a member.  Oh, and the process takes 2 weeks, so don’t even think about it.

I spy...a team bus!

OH’s ground is surrounded by forest and sports facilities.  But don’t get sucked too far into the forest. However close the stadium is, there’s a small river to cross.  And once back on the main street, there’s still blocks of flats to navigate before hitting the stadium again. Being a Big Game, the streets were busy.  I couldn’t see anything purporting to be a club shop or ticket office but remembered something about it being in the car park.  Once I identified the car park (clue: cars) I worried I’d not be let through the manned gate, but no probs.  Then a sign – ticket office this way.

The 1st of 3 checkpoints

While queing I was accosted by a gentleman offering his mate’s ticket.  (His mate was on holiday.)  I said I already had a ticket booked.  It’d be rude, considering OHL’s effort in responding to my request.  However, the guy in front was turned away, looking dejected; sold out.  So I put him onto my guy, who looked not unlike ‘Eisenberg’ in Breaking Bad.  It was a shades and age thing.  I guess that would make me the ‘fixer’.

Come On You Whites!

Got my ticket, €20.  Now to find section J and what I presumed to be the seat number (‘2208’).  Odd seat number, I thought.  No wonder – it was a terrace, running the length of the pitch.  Strangely though, no barriers.  Maybe OHL don’t need ‘em.  I chose the far end, which would be nearest the away fans as it was.  The home ultras (ie, those with the banner) were behind the opposite goal, to my left.     
Anderlecht had nearly half of the single-tiered all-seater stand, while opposite me stood a modern two-tiered affair complete with exec boxes.  Small, but perfectly formed.  The upper tier must have an amazing view.  The home end was also an all-seat affair.  One peculiar aspect of my stand though was the semblance of an athletics track in front of it.  Had OHL re-built the stadium on top of the rest of the track?  (Yes.)

I don't fancy Usain Bolt's chances...

Impressively, the home fans had erected a massive banner behind the goal to greet their heroes and there was a decent atmosphere throughout. Pleasant, rather than raucous.  None of your ‘cheerleaders’ here, but a drum amongst the hardcore, as well as kids banging the corrugated tin of the J Stand.  The singing tho mainly came from the terrace folk, as well as Anderlecht (once they were winning – they’d been quiet till then).

The J-Standers

The game was very open, though possibly decided on 20 odd minutes when an OHL forward broke free and was taken out.  Surely this was a sending off – although 40 yards from goal there was no-one between him and the keeper.  Perhaps the ref had less faith in this bloke; a goalscoring opportunity had NOT been denied and a yellow would suffice.  Is it me or do big teams always get the decisions?

OHL went on to waste a couple of opportunities whilst Anderlecht’s game plan consisted of banging as many crosses in as possible.  Leuven’s keeper (who seemed to be THE most popular player too) pulled off a couple of good saves, including an excellent one-on-one block.  However, as OHL visibly tired, RSCA took control and went ahead with a powerful header from a right wing cross. Finally, the tactic had paid off.  And victory was settled when another forward sidestepped a challenge and tucked it away from 12 yards.  Easy.

The teams line up.

There was one other oddity for this Englishman; the sight in OHL’s midfield of ex-teenage prodigy ‘Jonathan Bostock’ (as he was intro’d).  He looked every inch the tall, bronzed well-built midfield powerhouse.  He proceeded to jog everywhere the ball wasn’t and looked anonymous, save for a free kick he curled narrowly wide and a crunching tackle on Steven Defour.  (The latter being the recipient of one of my all-time favourite banners.)  Going back to young (old?) Bostock, it made me think; how much does one get paid to chug around the Belgian league for a lifetime?  A waste of a mediocre talent.

Front of the J Stand.  Note the roof supports concreted into the track.

As for the culinary delights of ‘Den Dreef’, I’d eaten earlier.  However, I could murder a beer.  Shame then that as I neared the front of the queue I had the dreaded sight of tokens only.  Although the tokens were sold by a lady on the next till, I was having none of that and stuck to the bottle of coke I’d smuggled in.  3 checkpoints to pass, yet no hint of a search, only constant ticket checking.

After the match, there was still time to be locked in for 5 minutes.  To let Anderlecht out?  Still, made it back to town for a live band and drinks in the main square and a chance to reminisce on how two mates and I saw England lose here during Euro 2000.  Sat outside a bar, the only English around...2 nil up and still lost.  The locals (‘Anyone but England’) had a field day.  Ahhh, those were the days…watching Belgian TV later and trying to figure out if England had been kicked out of the tournament for fans rampaging through Charleroi.The Damage: €20 ent

It's an entrance...but it's not my entrance.

Anderlecht at far side.

Half time at Den Dreef.

Full time and the TV interviews.

Sunset over Den Dreef.

The home end.

I didn't mean to get his head.  Anyway, the main stand.

Them's chunky roof supports.