NON: Football adventures

kirsikka

kirsikka

UTC Legend
In the spirit of DJ's post about keeping things going on here whilst there's no football on how about letting us hear anecdotes of football adventures you've been on? Watching or playing. Either far flung places or some kind of blag.

I'm pretty sure I've posted a version of this before but it's about the best I've got in the locker.

Spotty 19 year old me was studying economics at the Université de Nantes in 1995/96. It just happened that the prior season they had bulldozed their way to the French title, only one defeat all season, and so were in the Champions League the year I was there.

I ended up sharing a flat with one English guy and two French guys one of whom was a pretty smooth talker. As the year progressed, he started seeing a girl who was the daughter of some kind of senior regional sports bod. I never did get to the bottom of what exactly it was he did but he had access to VIP tickets for all the Nantes home CL games.

As time went on our flatmate wanted to break up with the girl and it took serious persuasion from us to convince him to give her more time. Not at all selfishly on our part!

So it was that me and the other English guy in our dishevelled student clothing got to watch the CL semi final against Juventus from the best seats in the house surrounded by the well dressed great and good who must have wondered how on earth we got there.

Cracking game and atmoshpere. Despite conceding away goals they could still have got to the final. Look at that Juventus line up though!

https://www.worldfootball.net/report/champions-league-1995-1996-halbfinale-fc-nantes-juventus/

There's even highlights out there:


I also remember at one of the matches where there was torrential rain, every seat had this odd kind of carrier bag thing in club colours you could put on your head to keep the rain off. Nobody tell the rumble stix makers!
 
The West Ham v A.F.C.B. match on COWS tonight was an adventure for us. The first Prem away match for the newly promoted Cherries on a sweltering hot September Saturday. This was the first time the club had run the accessible minibus, in fact there was enough interest for 2 minibuses. We had decided to let the train take the strain, booked assisted travel there and back. Initially I thought, what with the Olympics having been held over that side of London, all the Tube stations would be fully accessible. It was only after I'd booked the train that I began researching the Tube ( I was quite naive back then) , found out Upton Park was stairs only, we needed to get off at East Ham. Then I discovered, certain Tube lines weren't suitable for that station. In my naivety I had assumed all tube trains were the same but no. Some drew up level with the platform, some on other lines either had a 6 inch step up or a 9 inch gap betwixt train and platform. Undaunted and being a positive kind of guy, also not wanting to admit I was mistaken. I withheld this info from the Good Lady and so we set off. : )

The journey up to Waterloo was fairly stress free, we arrived in good time, about noon. I knew we had to get the tube from Westminster and it was close by ( on the A-Z map) Off we trundled, after 2 attempts to exit Waterloo on the correct side ( who'd have thought it was that big, must be 4 or 5 times bigger than Christchurch station). Eventually we found Westminster tube station, queued at the ticket office, asked about which line we needed for East Ham. We had to wait for a security guy, he then led us out of the atrium, down a side alley, pass a party of homeless people having a lunch time cider, waited for a very solid steel door to open and boarded the lift down to the correct level. Found the intended line heading in the right direction, after some trundling back and forth. Got to East Ham about 1-30.

Found Upton Park, without to much stress but some sweat. Entered through the away fans entrance, Then we were escorted through the packed West Ham concourses, by very good natured stewards ( good ones are the ones that talk to the G.L. not over her head at me) lots of good wishes ( after today) from the Upton faithful. Up in a lift to the platform at the back of the stand, with W.H.U. wheelchair fans, behind their family stand supporters. We could only see a small section of our fans but we could hear them all through the match, at the opposite end of the stand.

I won't do a match report, we all know what happened on the pitch. Surprised how quickly their fans turned on Slavan and the team, then got behind them when they fought back. Half time, I thought I'd go and get us a cup of tea, opened the door to the concourse, it was, obviously, rammed with irate Hammers and me with an A.F.C.B. shirt on. Had a second thought, quickly shut the door, returned to the G.L. and said I wasn't so thirsty after all : )

Some of our wheelchair using supporters arrived about 20 minutes in. Seems there was a mix up with the Minibuses, they were in one part of King's Park, the fans in another. 3 of them and carers, drove their own minibus up but had to park some way away, thus arriving late.

After the match, the return journey was fairly uneventful. I must say the Hammers we walked with, travelled on the Tube and train, were all good humoured and complimentary about the Cherries. As are most football supporters we've met on our travels, win, lose or draw.

All in all, a tiring, sweaty day but one of ( if not) the most enjoyable away days we've had : )
 
June 88, HMS Ark Royal is deployed to the Far East for "Outback 88"
A real fly the flag visit with Britain's newest aircraft carrier.
First port of call is Gibraltar for a weekend of storing the ship and re-fuelling.

Now, you may never have heard of "The Rock Race" a 2.7 mile run from the dockyard entrance to the top of the rock.
Trust me a killer, and to be honest would make a great TV spectacle with elite athletes.
The record is around 18 minutes, back on that day, I did 33 minutes that day, and somewhere there is a certificate to say I lived.

Anyway, after that run, the ships football team had a match at 1700 at the Victory Stadium against the national side.
The National side was not as set up as it is today, it was a collection of the best players from the local pubs and sports clubs. Lincoln Imps supplied a few players, and they beat Celtic a couple of years back

I was sub (See what I did there?) and a crowd of around 2,000 filled the one stand, (Away fans 350 ish)

Gib led 2-1 when I came on. 15 minutes left.
We won a corner, and it hit my thigh and went in.
I knew nothing about it, there was no skill involved.

So my claim to fame....I have scored against a FIFA nation, all be it many years before they made the list..

Tomorrow, The Battle of Vera Cruz 1979.
 
Not necessarily adventurous but certainly memorable. 1980 season opener at York. I got a lift from Dorch to Poole to pick up the coach, and was looked after throughout the day by John, Lucille & Gwen.

The coach left Poole at something like 5.30-6am. I was full of hope for the coming season, and it was great when Alec Stock came and said hello with David Webb before the game.

We were crushed 4-0 and it was a long trip home. We got back to Poole just after the last rain at midnight. I waited on my own on Poole station until the mail train at 2.30. The guards helped me on into the guards van as there were no ramps and certainly no accessible carriages.

Arrived in Dorch around half three, and was picked up. Had a cup of tea, probably wrote a match report and went to bed.

Still loved every second of it though.
 
Not quite up to the Table adventure but the same game West Ham away in a proper football ground not where they play now which is fine for athletics but nothing else.

Very close to Upton Park the trusty Bluebird coach stuttered to a halt. The sat nav showed the ground to be close. It might have been on the road but through the side roads of East London with no hint of floodlights to guide us collectively, strung out like social distancing, somehow we found the ground.

No match report but our defensive "qualities" for the next 5 years were there to see. Post match Bluebird took us in a coach that luckily by chance was in London back to the still broken down coach to collect our belongings and then home.

To their credit Bluebird gave us a refund confirming just what a good company they are.
 
HMS Newcastle, May 1979
Veracruz, home of the Mexican Naval Officers Academy.

As a young 18 year old matelot on only his 2nd foreign run ashore (Hamilton, Bermuda was the first), discovered the delights of cheap tequila and gallons of local beer on the first night ashore.
Next day, hanging out of my ars£, I volunteered to be part of a ships team to play the Naval Academy. The transport arrived to take us for the midday kick off.
Leaving the ship, I knew straight away it was the wrong move. Probably 95F, no wind, already pi55in alcohol through every pore in my body.

We got to the sports field which was within the Academy. Plush as you like. Proper changing room, communal bath, iced water. It was then I realised everyone was in the same shape as me, as everyone was dripping with sweat just putting their kit on.
On to the pitch we trotted, black and white Newcastle stripes.., to a round of applause from around 3,000 Mexican Naval Officers, all in smart white uniform.
The Commanding Officer had ordered all to turn out to watch the match.

Not even kick off and I had sunburn.
I then noticed the goalposts were painted black and white, as they would have been difficult to see normally.
It was at that point I recalled England wilting against West Germany in Mexico in 1970.

Their team ran out to huge cheers and the recruits throwing their hats in in air and whooping like Red f***ing Indians.
None of them were over 5ft 5.

We got beat 4-1. 2 of their goals were headers somehow.

A lad called Martin Sheasby (A Southampton supporter) got our goal, and he celebrated by doing that Mick Channon arm wheeling in front of 3,000 bemused Mexicans.

Has to be said, the hospitality afterwards was generous..plenty of tequila again.
Another hangover for work the next day.

Tomorrow.
Fighting the French
 
I think I can tell this one without incriminating anyone.

Zurich 2013 - FC Zurich vs AFCB

We got there the night before the game. That night could fill a whole thread on its own but in short - a last minute decision by a pal (who posts on here) to come with us meant he had to take whatever accommodation he could get, which turned out to be bang in the middle of weirdo central and was obviously where we decided to get pissed.

All sorts of weird and wonderful things happened that night but it ended with me walking around the city at 9:30am asking Swiss people if the knew where I lived (they didn't).

The game was a 7pm kick off and, as is tradition for AFCB European friendlies it was in the **************** end of nowhere. I surfaced at half four and the mission was on. There were two ways of getting from Zurich to the tiny outpost where the game was. The extremely beautiful but vomit inducing ferry up the lake or the more straightforward but, as it turns out, equally vomit inducing train. Both ended up at the same place in some small town that was 25 minutes walk from where the game was at the bottom of a mountain. We took the train.

At the ferry/train station in this small town I made everyone wait as my hangover had gone into overdrive and I wasn't sure which end the trouble was going to come from. As we're sat in this precinct area the ferry came in... and that's when the trouble started.

It was already very busy but hundreds of people piled off the ferry at once. It had obviously been a mixture of AFCB and Zurich fans on there and there had clearly been a 'disagreement'. One Swiss lad in particular had been on the end of a forthright opinion of an AFCB fan and his face was a right mess.

The area quickly filled with tension and the two warring factions were, handily, separated because the chezzers were up on some sort of overpass and the Swiss couldn't get to them. Well, most of them were. We were in the precinct surrounded by hundreds of extremely angry Swiss people.

Now I'd always been led to believe that when things kick off that the Swiss would just remain neutral and cash in on looking after people's stuff. Not true. They went nuts. Running around the place baying for English blood. In the middle of this chaos were five hungover chezzers, one with a once-in-a-generation hangover.

It was like the ending of Force 10 from Navarone. The bridge had been destroyed and we were stuck on the wrong side with the enemy. Turns out all we had to do was keep our mouths shut, act Swiss, and wait for them to bugger off towards the match. Well, that and scale the mountain on the 25 minute walk to the ground.

Unsurprisingly, it all kicked off again at the game midway through the second half. As luck would have it I was nowhere near that trouble as I was still feeling sorry for myself lounging on a hill behind the goal with all the other pacifists. To this day that remains the most rough I've ever felt at a football match. Honestly, I could barely finish my beer.
 
Bradford v afcb, promotion 1982
Was still in tech training at RAF Locking, just outside Weston Super Mare
Late decision on Friday night after a skinful of beer to take the train, and slept on sofa at a girls flat in middle of town
Arrived Bradford 11 ish, asked a copper outside the station where the ground was,just as someone from Brum was doing the same thing. Sort of thing you did before Google maps. We walked to ground together, found an empty pub to enjoy a few pre match pints. Pub slowly filled up with locals in yellow and black, and a show of girls in various states of undress depending how much money made it's way to the stage
We scored early, I got a fat lip from one of the locals in our section, working on theory of hit the big guy first.
Great game, draw and other results was enough for us to go up. Train back to camp, by time I got to Bristol no more to WSM till early morning so tried to sleep without much success at Bristol Temple Meads. Made it back to WSM around 6/7 am and walked hour or more back to camp, into 18 man room on the sunday morning just as people were rising for breakfast etc. Not easy to then sleep off after 24 hours out and about, but a great spontaneous footie day out
 
Any away game in the 1970s was an adventure, particularly when you went by coach. The home team fans would have their scouts out looking for you before the game, and at the end of the game the home fans would be there to give you something to remember you by, for the trip home
 
Le Havre Pompiers (Firemen) v HMS Newcastle
January 1980.

Freezing. Absolutely f***ing freezing as we turned up for this game.

The pitch was just outside the fireman's building, with a grand view for the on watch crew to watch the match from the comfort of their Gauloise/Coffee stenching restroom.

The pitch was a minefield, and had probably been used for fire practice that morning as it was boggy, with the odd ice puddle.

All pretty good to start off with. 1-1 at half time. Entente Cordiale.

Our manager decided to stick on a tall gangly stoker called Pete Lee. Decent enough kid socially, but he wore a black eye with a cut above it after an altercation ashore 2 days earlier.

2nd half kicks off, and you knew straight away, bringing on the boy Lee was a mistake' as he had developed a psychopathic hatred of the French.
Bang, Sliding 2 footer on their centre half.
Bang, Lunge on their midfield dynamo. That tackle earned him a warning from the ref.

1 minute later...bang, another kung fu style assault on one of their players.
The entire French team descended on Pete, fists a flying.

Suddenly, 22 man ruck, which shortly became a 50 man ruck when the on watch fire crew who had witnessed this one man assault on their co-workers, joined the fray.

Best part of 5 minutes before it was calmed down, and the ref called the game off.

We were getting showered when the invite came for a drink in their social club.

All was forgotten, great food, much beer and wine....and later in the evening, 2 lovely ladies which their team had chipped in for came and did a show, if you know what I mean.

We played a 2nd game the following week. Pete Lee was not picked.
All went off well. A 2-2 draw, and another great social.

Tomorrow.
Soccer v Football
 
Norfolk, Virginia
April 1986

Ark Royal comes in to port for a 2 week maintenance period.
A fine round of sporting events are organised with the US Ships in dock, and the base command.

The list goes up, and the Base Commander has asked for a "Soccer Match" against his boys. Norfolk Command Soccer Club.

This was probably my 4th visit to the States, and apart from playing football amongst ourselves, this was the first time the Yanks had put forward a soccer team.

We arrive at the sports field to find 2 x soccer goals on wheels either end of a pitch marked out for American Football and a host side that could be best described as slightly portly.
The keeper was the spit of Bubba in Forrest Gump (Although that film did not come out till 94, you get my drift), John Candy upfront, John Goodman....etc etc.

They supplied the ref. How he was going to ref a soccer match on a football pitch, or was it a football match on a football pitch, was beyond any of us.

We kicked of from the 50 meter line, I was tempted to kick a long punt forward, but chose the sensible route. We went straight down their end 1-0.

Gotta love the Yanks.."Goddam" "What you doin mota f***a). Arguments across the park from the off.

Even I had scored a couple in the end zone by half time.

I recall the score finishing 21-0, we had stopped counting.

To be fair, the ref managed to keep it within the football rules just, but how he could ever give a penalty was hard to see, but at least the goalkeepers could use the whole width of the 10 yard zone.

The next day we played them at "Tag American Football", they clawed it back on aggregate 5 times over.

Free beer after both events, sadly is was budweiser....how do they drink that sheite?
 
A tale of 2 adventures in 1 season, the one that began with Groves and Brookes smashing dreams and ended with Eddie and Jason building dreams.

Start of the season, Oxford away in the league cup, 0-0 after extra time, lost on penalties.
We went their full of belief and optimism, from what I can remember we'd signed some good players during the summer to go with the ones we already had. The difficult thing with being completely myopic and blindly loyal to the club, is you have to try even harder to not see the obvious. Convinced what we had witnessed in preseason friendlies was "Grovesie" holding the players back ready for the "real" challenges ahead. It was one of the most sterile, passionless performances from A.F.C.B. I've ever witnessed. A 120 minutes of containing a side we could've beaten easily with 10% more oomph. After that, we both knew it wasn't worth the effort of looking the other way. With those 2 clowns in charge the team would be their vehicle and we all know what happens to clown's cars. They fall to pieces bit by bit and become a joke for those watching.

The most memorable non-football thing from the evening was the pub and it's Disabled Loo. The 3 sided ground is on an industrial/science park with not much else around it. Very close to the Kassam is an old tyme Inn, a large pub (from what I remember) with a good sized beer garden. It was packed inside and out well before kick off. The Accessible Toilet was outside, accessed by crossing some very uneven flagstone ( not much use to any ambulant disabled ). Once inside it was the biggest loo, area wise, we'd been in. On closer inspection it was more like a groundsman's pavilion, on even closer inspection, it was a groundsman's pavilion. The giveaways were the 3 big lawnmowers one side of the of the shed, with the barrels of weedkiller and fertiliser on the other and the toilet in the middle. : )
 
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Second match. Tranmere away, again 0-0 but a totally different feeling. Can't recall much about the football, so won't dwell on it, suffice to say 0-0 wasn't what we were used to under Eddie but we'd come within a cross bar of winning the league.

We'd made our own way up there, very pleasant end of season weather, avoid defeat and we're up, win and we're champions. After the dross fest we'd witnessed at the start of the season, promotion would be a dream come true.

Being an old lower league ground, Prenton park had a lot of quirks and foibles. Visiting wheelchair using fans were in the complete opposite corner of the ground to our own excellently noisy and ebullient fans. The Accessible loo ( a double sized brick outhouse affair) was just inside the stand's gates. Our seats were pitch side, in front of their family stand and behind the Tranmere dugout. Between the a.l. and our seats was a very steep, roughly concreted ramp ( about 1 in 5 gradient, I would guess ). I needed a steward's help to help push the Good Lady up it and help to stop her freewheeling uncontrolled down it. : )

We had the pleasure of Tommy Elphick's mum and nan sitting one side of us and Mr. Rob Trent the other. He received a verbal warning from the stewards, when he offered some advice to Ronnie Moore about sorting his team out. The steward told him to mind his language, as we were in front of the family stand. This led to the enquiry " Is it only the kids allowed to eff and cee then? "

As the match ended, we were convinced we had won the title, Tranmere fans and stewards congratulating us, our fans surging across the pitch to celebrate in front of the directors box. In my exuberation, I bumped the Good Lady ( in her 'chair) up the narrow terrace steps, until I found one about an inch wider than her 'chair and began trundling her towards " celebration central". It's then when I began to hear, what I thought was good ol' scouse humour. We hadn't won the League, the penalty had not only been missed but they'd gone down the other end , scored and won the dratted title.

As this began to permeate my euphoric brain, so did the realisation that we were halfway up the stand, on a ledge that was barely wider than the G.L.s wheelchair. Luckily, for me, she had only realised the former not the latter ( or everyone on the pitch would have known about it ). Fortunately you can always rely on football fans for help, some of the Tranmere fans took a corner each and carried her down to pitch side and ( my ) safety : )

As the old saying goes " All's well that ends well "
 
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Second match. Tranmere away, again 0-0 but a totally different feeling. Can't recall much about the football, so won't dwell on it, suffice to say 0-0 wasn't what we were used to under Eddie but we'd come within a cross bar of winning the league.

We'd made our own way up there, very pleasant end of season weather, avoid defeat and we're up, win and we're champions. After the dross fest we'd witnessed at the start of the season, promotion would be a dream come true.

Being an old lower league ground, Prenton park had a lot of quirks and foibles. Visiting wheelchair using fans were in the complete opposite corner of the ground to our own excellently noisy and ebullient fans. The Accessible loo ( a double sized brick outhouse affair) was just inside the stand's gates. Our seats were pitch side, in front of their family stand and behind the Tranmere dugout. Between the a.l. and our seats was a very steep, roughly concreted ramp ( about 1 in 5 gradient, I would guess ). I needed a steward's help to help push the Good Lady up it and help to stop her freewheeling uncontrolled down it. : )

We had the pleasure of Tommy Elphick's mum and nan sitting one side of us and Mr. Rob Trent the other. He received a verbal warning from the stewards, when he offered some advice to Ronnie Moore about sorting his team out. The steward told him to mind his language, as we were in front of the family stand. This led to the enquiry " Is it only the kids allowed to eff and cee then? "

As the match ended, we were convinced we had won the title, Tranmere fans and stewards congratulating us, our fans surging across the pitch to celebrate in front of the directors box. In my exuberation, I bumped the Good Lady ( in her 'chair) up the narrow terrace steps, until I found one about an inch wider than her 'chair and began trundling her towards " celebration central". It's then when I began to hear, what I thought was good ol' scouse humour. We hadn't won the League, the penalty had not only been missed but they'd gone down the other end , scored and won the dratted title.

As this began to permeate my euphoric brain, so did the realisation that we were halfway up the stand, on a ledge that was barely wider than the G.L.s wheelchair. Luckily, for me, she had only realised the former not the latter ( or everyone on the pitch would have known about it ). Fortunately you can always rely on football fans for help, some of the Tranmere fans took a corner each and carried her down to pitch side and ( my ) safety : )

As the old saying goes " All's well that ends well "
Click to expand...
Its all lies. ;-)

ps. I still hate Tranmere.
 
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