Karlsruher SC 0-0 St. Pauli, Saturday 27th July 2013

Karlsruher SC 0-0 St. Pauli, Bundesliga 2.  

The Schloss and gardens.

A lively start at the railway station as Stuttgarter Kickers fans attempt to live up to their name. Changing trains at Karlsruhe (they're off to Wehen Wisebaden) there's a few exchanges with St. Pauli fans.  Who starts it? Kickers with their 'St. Pauli scheisse!' or the St. Pauli fan who threw a plastic glass full of liquid?  To be followed by the usual rigmarole: 1 or 2 hotheads from either side gesticulating alot, whatever the German is for 'Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough', before 4 or 5 police appear and position themselves between the fans. Said hotheads then either get too close to the police, before backing off, or make a real show of going berserk, knowing that their mates will drag them back from the brink to ensure a) they don't get arrested or b) they don't kill everyone in their path (cos that's how terrifying they are).  The train comes and the skirmishes peter out, while the police keep a low key approach, merely shepherding the most vociferous away from the group.

Just follow him!

I did note though one older cop, 'tache and all, really looking vexed as he hunted a St. Pauli fan who'd annoyed him.  I think the guy lost him by taking off his sunhat (I certainly couldn't recognise him thereafter).  Now, I'd seen this guy previously and, if anything, he was secondary, not mouthy, behind the front line...but I think he had the main Kickers knobhead in sight, as he edged left or right depending on where the Kickers fan was.  Was he the 'dangerman'?  Either way, the police made no move to arrest the Kickers loudmouth. Too much paperwork? Another undercover guy joined in the action, putting on a sexy green armband to show which team he was playing for that day.

Tha' she blows!

There followed another beautiful walk to a stadium, once you've reached the Schloss that is (and there's plenty of signs for it; it's Karlsruhe's architectural, historical and literal centrepiece - the whole city was planned around it).  Walk around the castle, through the Schlossgarten (always making sure there's a Karlsruher fan to follow!) and somewhere through the density of forest there lies a football stadium, high atop a hill. No wonder it's called 'Wildparkstadion'.

Welcome to .....on .... for the match against ....

Upon arrival I decide to find the away end.  However, once found, there is no discernible ticket booth. So I carry on my clockwise quest of the stadium, nick through some shrubbery and find the most obscure entrance to the ground.  The ticket guy spends a few seconds explaining that my €11 ticket costs €12.  I have no idea why. (Did they overprint last season?)  Still, I'm in.  And there's a fair smattering of St. Pauli fans around too.

Yes, it's HOT.

The match must have been the most pedestrian I've ever seen.  For a second season in a row I see St. Pauli open their away account with a goalless draw.  This one was nailed on.  From the start, I was sweating - and I was stood in the shade.  So it was no wonder the players weren't so keen to run about.  A simple 'give and go' became a 'give'.  Now here's a thing: if football was invented to give cricketers summink to do when the weather turns foul, here's why you shouldn't have summer football.  90 minutes and zero shots of note save for a KSC forward missing an open goal as he couldn't direct a ball slightly behind him.  I scored this exact goal a fortnight ago (in 5 aside).

Fans getting a hosing.  Yes, it's THAT hot.

Aside from the 'furter and beer, the cleverest thing I did all match was find a toilet (at the other end of the stadium!!!) to take off my shirt and drench it in water from the tap.  ANYTHING to keep cool. Inside the stadium, and I've never seen this before, the groundstaff were hosing down the fans.  (A ho(s)e down?)  It must have been awful on the main home terrace, which was packed and in the sun.

What shade there was ...

The stroll back through the forest encircled some medieval fair or other ('Mittelalterlich Phantasie Spectaculum').  Men (it was usually men) threw axes at the target of a bear while in the distance a rock act played with the hindrance of bagpipes.  Awful.  (I think they were called 'Rapalje'.)  Anyway, if you've heard one krautrock act with bagpipes, I guess you've heard them all.  'Celtic folk' I think the advert said.  One to avoid in future methinks.

Axe throwing.  Typical day in Karlruhe.

I've also now lost 2 sunhats in 2 days.  They're the new sunglasses.  I think this latest one is somewhere in the schlossgarten, where I laid out to watch the axe throwing while listening to 'Celtic folk'.  You can understand how easy it was to be distracted.  One doesn't come across this stuff much these days.

Attendance: 17,667 (Wildparkstadion)

The Damage: 
€12 ent
€1 programme

Tunes:
The Orb

Ticket booths at the home end.

Pre-match hunting of shade.

St. Pauli corner.  Packed.

Main stand angles.

Main Stand roof dwarfing the rest of the stadium.

The most predictable result ever.

Looking out over the scoreboard end.

The home terrace.  I dread to think how hot they were.

The old stand.

A tall floodlight on top of a tall hill.  Tall.

Karlsruhe's motte and bailey castle.

Karlruher SC team coach

Steps up to home end

View from the home end (after the match).

VfR Aalen 0-2 Greuther Fürth, Friday 26th July 2013

Not a house you'd see at the entrance to an English ground...

VfR Aalen 0-2 Greuther Fürth, Bundesliga 2.  

It began badly.  I was in the toilet on the train and put my sun hat on the door hook.  'I mustn't forget that,' I did.  As ever, I realised the minute the scorching sun belt down on my naked head upon disembarcation in Karlsruhe.  Ho hum.  A quick check-in at the hostel and I was back on my way, this time to Aalen.

Germans are keen on their mobile club shops too.

The 'Scholz Arena' turned out to be another quaint lower division German stadium, replete with a side stand covering barely half the touchline and an entirely temporary (looking?) fan kurve, built on scaffolding.  Was this purely for Bundesliga 2?  The 'temporary' home end looked even more incongruous given the large open terrace at the other end, as well as the lowing sun being directly in fans' eyes.  (Admittedly, not every game will kick off at 6pm on a Friday evening.)

Cute main stand

I sat/stood on a virtually empty open terrace, behind the goal, great view.  I also don't often get chance to stretch out on a terrace, barefooted, while watching football, and I don't suppose anyone wants this image now. To my left were the Furth fans, who came in good numbers.  No doubt they're fancying themselves for a promotion charge.

See that tunnel?  That's the players' tunnel that is!

Despite a couple of early half chances, Aalen looked out of their depth, as symbolised by the centre half pairing of a one-footed Syrian (actually, he looked alot like Mido) and a closer to bald than balding oldster who surely came up through the leagues with VfR.  It didn't take Greuther long to score.  An innocuous gentle in-swinging free kick mesmerised the keeper into thinking he could claim it, with the natural consequence being a header into an empty net.  Greuther fans (and German fans in general) make me laugh though. One minute they're bouncing around, then they score and everyone stops to politely applaud.  Later, Greuther get a 2nd.  I don't remember anything about it.

The players coming off at full-time.

Upon the final whistle I retraced my steps, only this time walked through a wood which ran paraellel to the main road. Although not especially close to the station, it's a ground which is easy to find: come out of the station, walk straight ahead, keep going for a couple of kilometres and the the stadium will be at the top of the hill - not that you can see it.  You can't see the wood stadium for the trees.

Attendance: 6,412 (Scholz Arena)

The Damage:
€14 ent
€10.50 2 beers, wurst and chips.

The home end.

I s'pose they can take it down if they get relegated?

The Greuther fans

The home end.

The view from 'my' terrace.

The stadium plan

A watchtower, to prevent escapees?

No!  For the TV camera

A deserted home end after the match

Welcome to the .....

Full-time

The view from the back of the terrace

The walk back.  Beautiful.

Standard Liège 3-1 KR Reykavik Thursday 25th July 2013

(Europa League qualifier, aggregate 6-2)

Liège-Guillemins railway station, grand by any scale

1st up on this tour is Standard Liège.  Hopefully it's 2nd time lucky, since the last time I visited I couldn't get in - a little dispiriting when you've walked 3 miles+.  And despite the previous experience, I still can't find a bus and slog it the aforementioned distance to Schlessin in 29°c heat.  I know it was 29, cos I read it on some digital display somewhere on my walk.  I ambled along, too exhausted from carrying my backpack earlier. This, despite a 7pm KO. I'd be late.

Finally, after that walk...

'cept, no I wouldn't.  As I neared the stadium, the sight of Standard fans milling around told me the match was far from starting - hurrah!  Si I bought a small can of Jupiler from a shop (everyone else was having a can of beer) and looked about getting me a match ticket.  The main ticket booths simply looked like pandemonium, so I went to the other side of the ground where I knew other booths lay.  More pandemonium, though in some orderly fashion.  Why don't Standard put in some barriers to help form a queueing system?

Techno techno techno techno! (speakers facing out of window)

Still, at €5 a ticket, no wonder it was busy.  (I knew this in advance, but no, I couldn't book a ticket in advance.)  I was slightly worried it might sell out (like last time) but with a 3-1 1st leg lead against Icelandic part-timers (I'm presuming they're part time) why else would everyone be here?  I got my ticket.

Back then to the throng of the pub on the corner and its attendant techno.  Dozens of fans chatted and drank beer while I taped a foot to 'Internet Friends (VIP)', you know the one that goes 'You blocked me on Facebook.  Now you're going to get f***ed off.'  Happily, the techno continued into the stadium (as well as the proverbial Eurobeat), the only abomination being the terminally depressing 'We will rock you'.  I honestly thought the death of Freddie Mercury would bring the end of this dirge.  (One horror memory of this tune was Roker Park, Sunderland, where hundreds of high pitched kids, inconveniently perched next to the away end, would sing along to this pre-match.  Awful.)

The open corner at the home end

I still missed kick-off.  The plan the ticket office guy showed me was upside down so I walked around most of the stadium to find the correct entrance, about 50 metres from the ticket booth.  But this stadium is one to savour: 3 steep sides of triple-decker stands, with gaps left in 2 corners to add a little architectural 'je ne sais quoi'. The 4th side is another large, 2 tiered stand.

For such a non-entity of a game, the atmosphere was bouncing behind the goal.  Shame then that I was knackered. The seats were those which tip up for 'safe standing', so, of course, everyone was standing.  Let me sit down! Please.  It looked the same behind the other goal too, while the side stands were for the sitters.  Obligatory drummer and topless cheerleader (male) with loud hailer accompanied by numerous flags.  In a bit, I noticed a couple of guys collecting the flags in.  Even better - you get to wave them at the match and someone else takes them away for you. 

Banks of steep seating.

In the 2nd half, the chanting became much more co-ordinated between either end, while a comfortable home win was polished off with my 1st (last?) Mexican wave of the season.  Who cares about the football when you can take turns to wave your arms and chant at people 100 yards away?

The game?  The Icelandics were played off the park.  3-1?  4-1?  I can't actually remember.  I do know Liège were too quick, too skilful...or the Icelandics were too slow, too lumbering.  Certainly, a couple of their team looked no fitter than me (!) but were carrying a good 3 or 4 more stones.

In the opening 10 minutes, Liège had 5 shots but the opener didn't come till 25 minutes; Reykjavik stood off the right wing back, who, not believing his good fortune, arrowed a 25 yarder high into the keeper's near post.  So, a 25 yarder on 25 minutes.

The home end.

Half-time 1-0.  2-0 was a tap-in on the back post, as was 3-1.  The crowd seemed to love whoever this guy was, but there isn't a footballer in the world who would have missed either chance.  Inbetween, Gudjon (probably) bundled the ball in with his midriff (ie, penis), to the bewilderment of everybody. I'm not sure how many away fans came (they were in the same stand as me, far to my right) but he saluted the visiting section.

Do I remember Standard getting a 4th?  Maybe not.  But for one so tired, the perfect fillip came in the form of a (free) bus back to the city centre.  'Centre du ville?' I asked.  'Yes' the driver's mate said. This accent and Grade D GCSE French is fooling nobody.

Attendance: 21,288

The Damage:
€5 ent
€1 can of beer

The Tunes:
Push the Button - Chemical Brothers
Barbed Wire Kisses - Jesus and Mary Chain

Stade Maurice Dufrasne AKA Sclessin

The oldest stand.

Sunset over Sclessin.

Standard bearers.

You can actually see half the pitch from here

The towering stands

Huddersfield Town 2-2 Barnsley, Saturday 4th May 2013

'YORKSHIRE! YORKSHIRE!’

Yesterday, I saw scenes I’ve never before witnessed at a football match.  Whatever I write this week simply cannot do justice to what happened.  It wasn’t simply an amazing football experience, it was an amazing LIFE experience.

We all know what panned out.  The Super Reds, after being bottom at New Year, have fought and fought and here we are now, with our reward – Championship football for another season.  What a season it’s been and what a game it was.

Being the last day, the beers were out in force on the train up.  Even Mr Marshall left the school books at home and hit the Leffe early.  Of course, a 12:45 KO in Huddersfield didn’t really lend itself to a visit pre-match to the pub, and problies a good job too, since the (West Yorks police?) idea was to limit Reds fans to ONE pub in town and (allegedly) attempted to force any Reds fan they came across into said pub.  Nevermind health and safety issues INSIDE the pub, as long as fans weren’t fighting OUTSIDE.

So it was that we arrived in Hudds and I nipped off to the loo, only to bump into Matt, 1 of only 2 Huddersfield fans I know.  We both agreed we’d be very happy were both sides to stay up.  If only we knew what would come…

To the stadium, Sarah, Salisbury and I timed it nicely to coincide with the main Barnsley mob getting a police escort.  You heard them before you saw them!  This set it up nicely – I was worried the atmosphere in the ground would be muted, both sets of fans too tense to sing.  How wrong this was as well.  Fantastic noise throughout from the Barnsley, even when their goals went it.  It was one of those days when everyone knew they had to do their bit.

From the off, both sides went at each other.  This was no cagey game.  We had to win and we took it to them.  Still, it came as a surprise when O’Grady stroked it home at the far end.  From our angle, you had no idea it was on target till it hit the net.  Pandemonium.  ‘WE ARE STAYING UP, WE ARE STAYING UP’.  Town fans looked shellshocked.  Even more so when news came through that Posh were winning while Millwall was scoreless.  Town were going down.   Fast and furious as the game was, we spent most of the half clearly being the superior side and probably should have cemented victory there and then.  As it was, nobody complained as the players went off a goal to the good.  Even better, Palace had equalised just before half time.  A win for them and we could even escape with a draw.

Hudds brought on a couple of players at half time (ironically, one of the lads taken off was Norwood, our main transfer target last summer) and we were on the back foot from the off.  Steele made a super save, one-on-one and just as we wondered when Barnsley would get a grip, Hudds scored.  We can’t say it wasn’t coming, but the manner of it was annoying.  Crainie and Wiseman had been superb in the 1^st half and this goal seemed to go straight down the middle of them.  Ho hum.  At least they’d scored early enough for us to go hunt a winner.  Never did I think Hudds would dominate as they had done and so it proved.  For the whole half, momentum went with who NEEDED to score rather than whoever HAD scored.

Dagnall cut inside and from 18 yards struck it towards the far corner .  A goal all the way, I was right behind it.  Damn it if the keeper didn’t tip it round the post.  Then Dawson had the chance of the game saved.  He dummied the player, let it run in front of him then hit it on the turn across the keeper.  Another great save, though if truth be told it looked the shot of a tired player (yet Dawson wasn’t subbed for another 20 mins).  I was now seriously worried.  Would we get another chance like it?

As time ticked away, Scotland and Noble-Lazarus were sent on to save the situation, Daggers and Mellis making way.  I mused to Sarah how I could foresee Reuben hitting a sweet volley from the edge of the area off a cleared corner.  So you can imagine how perplexed I was when we GOT that corner and Reuben had to trot back to the halfway line as cover for every other bod piling into the box.  You could see this wasn’t planned – he looked around and realised if he didn’t do it, nobody else would.  And the ball?  Yes, it was cleared to the edge of the area, exactly where Reuben should’ve been.

But lo and behold.  Perkins gets free on the left (we’d done this 3 or 4 times without reward) and pulls it back for Scotland to head a low ball into the back of the net.  Did I say it was pandemonium when the 1^st one went in?  This was CARNAGE.  We were (literally) falling over ourselves while worried Terriers looked on.  (Note: worried about their own situation, not our health and safety.) YOU’RE NOT SINGING ANYMORE.  The volume was off the scale.  Town meantime were going down.  Posh were winning, Washday were winning, Millwall were drawing.  Only 15 minutes left. Could we hold on?  Have a guess.

7 minutes of jubilation turned to utter, utter despair as Town equalised again.  A lost tackle in midfield and Huddersfield looked like 2 on 1.  Could they possibly, possibly miss?  PLEASE!  No. No, they couldn’t.  Vaughan fires in and we’re staring relegation in the face.  There was no way Palace were going to rescue us, we NEEDED another goal.  And we huffed…and we puffed…and we couldn’t force the ball in.  We had the corners, we had the shots, we had a free kick.  We were doomed.  The fans roared, there was no self pity, no sitting, head in hands, waiting for relegation. It was all or nothing as everyone got behind the team.  News came in.  Palace had equalised. There was a glimmer of hope, but still minds were focused on the task in hand.  Then the unthinkable became thinkable.  More news filtering in.  Palace had scored again.  Reds fans started jumping around, celebrating.  Apart from me.  I’ve been here before and I’m not trusting anything approaching a scoreline rumour ever again after THAT year the Oakwell PA announced we’d made the play-offs (we hadn’t; a last minute goal elsewhere saw to that).  Mobile and internet reception was next to zero, so no confirmation there either  and the only thing Huddersfield appear to use their scoreboard for are adverts.  (An ‘advertboard’?)

But then I saw THE most bizarre piece of football I have EVER seen.  The ball went back to Steele, and Hudds, with a draw keeping them safe, didn’t bother closing him down.  I could see Flitcroft telling Steele to keep the ball, calm down.  So it was TRUE – Palace were winning (had won?)  And for nearly 2 minutes you had the queer sight of Steele dribbling the ball around to himself while every other player was stood on the halfway line.  Meantime, Town fans were encroaching onto the pitch to our right.  And all round the ground the chant went up ‘YORKSHIRE! YORKSHIRE!’  The ref blew.  Both sides had done it – they’d stayed up.  I could even forgive the half dozen or so Terriers who had earlier been waving pictures of Margaret Thatcher at us.  (Nice try lads.)

The players legged it off the pitch and on came the Town hoardes.  The thin orange line that were the stewards spread out to our front as Huddersfield came towards us.  But they came not in menace, but in joy, as both sets of fans continued chanting ‘Yorkshire!  Yorkshire’ with a cheeky aside of ‘We all hate Leeds scum’.  It was a complete Yorkshire love-in as the fans applauded each other.

Then, with their fans still at our end, the SUPER REDS circled round the pitch to take their acclaim.  The job had been done and you could see what it meant to this squad of players.  Last up came the manager.  And didn’t he look proud as he took the applause as we walked in a ‘Flitcroft wonderland’?  And so he should be.  Can you give Manager of the Year to someone who’s only done the job for half a season?  The players danced and celebrated with each other and Jim O’Brien put on one of them there Jamaican beanie hats that many Reds fans were wearing for the day.  And with the Hudds fans having been cleared off the pitch (presumably for their players to do a lap of honour) the last thing I saw before leaving was Sir Bobby coming onto the pitch.  A fitting end, I think.  ‘Oh Bobby Hassell, you are the love of my life….’

So, Salisbury, Sarah and I strolled to Tesco for the beers as policemen congratulated us and shook hands and fans of both teams floated down the road on an air of…what’s it called?  That thing we as Barnsley fans are so unused to.  That’s it – JOY!  We’ve been to Wembley, won play-off games, won at Anfield, won promotion to the Premiership, but this feeling (which I still have) is something else.  I have never been through so many emotions in a single game.  We have battled and battled this season and I am PROUD to describe myself as a Barnsley fan.

MOTM?  Oh yeah…

*** Perkins.  Thought he was everywhere.  Got in their faces, covered Dawson when Scannell exposed his lack of pace and, most crucially, got into the attack to set up the 2^nd goal.

** O’Grady.  Held onto everything and like every other big centre forward we ever have, gets absolutely nothing from the ref, however much they’re pushing, pulling, etc

* No-one.  Not that no-one deserved it, I just can’t pick a player from the rest.  It was a fabulous effort throughout, from everyone.

Despatches.  The lads were superb.  The match stats say it all – we deserved to win.  Everything was in our favour:  possession 53-47, shots 11-6, on target 8-3, corners 5-1.  (Note to Andy Jones: I’ve just looked that up – I can’t remember EVERYTHING!)  I know everyone’s gonna say we got lucky with that late Palace goal, but it would’ve been a travesty to go down on THAT performance and THAT run from January.

Drinks du jour:  Champagne, spiced rum and ginger ale, vodka and orange, Fosters (not me). Celebration time, come on!  Then onto London for an intended pitstop at the Flying Scotsman, but here’s where it all fell apart.  After a beer in Caminos, Tim, Matty and Salisbury disappeared, Andy got chatting to a girl in a Barnsley shirt (yes, a real life GIRL.  I believe she was visiting London with her job and was wearing her Reds shirt in celebration.)  Anyway, I don’t know how I got that pint down my neck, cos when I went to the toilet I realised how drunk I was and went home.  And yes, for the 1^st time since moving house and the last time this season, I fell asleep on the bus and had to be awoken at the end of the line by the driver.  Where I proceeded to cross the road, watch the bus turn around, and got back on again.  And while everyone else couldn’t sleep BEFORE the Hudds match, I found myself up at 7:30 this morn having not been able to get back to sleep.  This adrenaline rush is still going.  I may collapse later on…

DON’T WORRY…’BOUT A THING…COS EVERY LITTLE THING’S….GONNA BE ALRIGHT!

YOOOOOUUUUU REDDDDDSSSSSSSSS!!!!!