Well it is Friday the Thirteenth

Bangor City V Airbus UK

Welsh Premier League

Match Postponed

Well that was great.

It’s 4:30 and  it’s raining. Check the game was on with Groundman’s friend, it’s on. (Secretly hope game is off so I can go to play five-a-side).  Get home. Phone the Club to check game is on, it’s on. (Still secretly hope game is off so I can go to play five-a-side, well he did say it might be called off).  Get bag holding the club shop stock. Set off. Arrive in Bangor and get soaked on way to ground. Get into the ground 45 minutes before kick off, no-one says the game is off.

7:03 The referee calls off the game 1 minute after train has left.

Well it’s nice to know what you think

This has been knocking around cyberspace for a bit now, I found it on the WSC Messageboard.

“Dear Players of Grimsby Town FC,

I am writing with regard to my absolute astonishment and disbelief as to the sheer magnitude of your complete lack of talent and failure to carry out the job for which you are paid to do.

I am not aware of any swear word or other derogatory phrase in my current vocabulary which comes close to a description of your ‘performance’ (and I use that term loosely) this afternoon, but let me just say that you have collectively reached a level of inadequacy and ineptitude that neither I nor modern science had previously considered possible.

In fact I recall a time, in my youth, when I decided to call in sick at work and instead spent the entire day in my one bedroom flat wearing nothing but my underpants, eating toast and wánking furiously over second-rate Scandinavian porn. Yet somehow, I still managed to contribute more to my employer in that one Andrex-filled day than you complete bunch of toss-baskets have contributed to this club in your entire time here.

I would genuinely like to know how you pathetic little píssflaps sleep at night, knowing full well that you have taken my money and that of several thousand others and delivered precisely fúck all in return.

I run a business myself, and I believe I could take any 4,000 of my customers at random; burn down their houses, impregnate their wives and then dismember their children before systematically sending them back in the post, limb-by-limb, and still ensure a level of customer satisfaction which exceeds that which I have experienced at Blundell Park at any time so far this season.

You are a total disgrace, not only to your profession, not only to the human race, but to nature itself. This may sound like an exaggeration, but believe me when I say that I have passed kidney stones which have brought me a greater level of pleasure and entertainment than watching each of you worthless excuses for professional footballers attempt to play a game you are clearly incapable of playing, week-in, week-out.

I considered, for a second, that I was perhaps being a little too harsh. But then I recalled that I have blindly given you all the benefit of the doubt for too long now.

Yes, for too long you have failed to earn the air you’ve been breathing by offering any kind of tangible quality either as footballers or as people in general. As such, I feel it’s only fair that your supply runs out forthwith.

I trust, at this precise moment in time, that Mr Fenty is in his office tapping away on the Easyjet web site booking you all one-way flights to Zurich, complete with an overnight stay with our cheese eating friends at Dignitas. Don’t bother packing your toothbrush – you won’t need it.

In the event that our beloved chairman can’t afford the expense (understandable given that he’s soon going to have to assemble a new squad from scratch), then I am prepared to sell my family (including my unborn child) to a dubious consortium of Middle Eastern businessmen in order to pay for the flights. Christ, I’ll drive you there myself, one-by one, without sleep, if I have to.

Failing that, understanding that most dubious Middle Eastern businessmen are tied-up purchasing Premier League football clubs, I ask you to please take matters into your hands. Use your imagination, guys – strangle yourselves or cover yourself in tinfoil and take a fork to a nearby plug socket, or something. Just put yourselves and us fans out of our collective misery.

So, in summary, you pack of repugnant, sputum-filled, invertebrate bástards; leave this club now and don’t you fúcking dare look back. You’ve consistently demonstrated less passion and desire than can commonly be found within the contents of a sloth’s scrótum, so frankly you can just all fúck off – don’t pass go, don’t collect your wages, don’t ever come back to this town again.

I look forward to you serving me at my local McDonald’s drive-thru in the near future.

Yours sincerely

A very disillusioned Mariner”

 

It neatly encapsulates a fans’ frustration but it also shows how some people can take things a bit too seriously. It’s only football man!! I don’t think that activities are done ostensibly for enjoyment should end in rants like this.  I bet the soft sod is back for the next home game though, probably feeling a weight has been lifted.

Stasi-a-side

To commemorate the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, here’s a photo of some football in an People’s Palace of Sport.

So it can be nice too

Aston Villa 5 Bolton Wanderers 1

Premier League

It’s useless to resist the Premier League, it will ensnare you eventually. The method that hooked me was the granting of free tickets. I would have preferred them for a European game, as advertised, but Villa managed to eliminate themselves from the Europa League. I offered my free pair to a Villa-supporting friend, Gaz, and he gladly accepted them. I had a choice of 5 games, all glamourous; Hull!!!!!! Bolton!!!!! Gaz chose glittery old Bolton on account of a weekend off. Then Neil had a thought; “Why don’t you get another ticket and we’ll go thirds”. I was £7 lighter but i had a Premier League ticket in my pocket.

Motorway services are the epitome of market capitalism. You turn up hungry, they provide the food, you pay the inflated, nay extortionate, prices because you’re trapped there. Wimpy still exists!!! Proust may have eaten a Wimpy burger once, the chopped onions on my Burger reminded me of childhood parties and green milkshakes. The services usually give you a flavour of which teams are playing on a Saturday, except this Saturday of course. We saw one carload of Bolton fans and two supporters, of an indeterminate team in stripes, waiting for a lift.

Motorway travel is great fun usually but it can lead to boredom on rare occasions. Next time you’re bored why not play, “How many Villa fans can you spot?” and the journey will fly by. We spotted 14 and I got the prize for the most morbidly obese. Strangely a lot of people didn’t seem to be going to a football match.

Parking was easy to find by the time we got there. We parked in the car park next to  the Aston Villa Leisure Centre. I vaguely remembered that this used to be some kind of music venue. “Seen Better Days” was the politest euphemism available, it’s very sad how time passes.

We found a nice pub in claret and blue. They were showing the Edinburgh derby and Poppy Fascism is alive and well up there too. Note to clubs; if you’re going to wear a poppy on a polyester football shirt it may be an idea to choose one with a stronger adhesive as several players had become divested of theirs. It was 0-0 when we left. This was not good for Neil, he had Hearts to win on his coupon.

Gaz left the merchandise tent with a half Villa / half Wales T-shirt and we all went in. I was in the upper tier of the same stand that I occupied during the Rapid match. The upper part was so clean and homely!! The simple addition of rubber flooring made all the difference. By the end of the game you could see the difference that all of the cleanliness had made. I had been surrounded by pleasantness and politeness, then to top it all,  I didn’t meet 1 nice steward, I didn’t meet 2 nice stewards, I didn’t meet 3 nice stewards. I met 4, yes 4,  very nice stewards. I even discussed the Swansea versus Cardiff match (they were showing it on the conviniently located TV screens) with one, he liked Cardiff!! Maybe the one’s working below are sick of  the wet weather and the morons so they can appear to be less than cheerful. I’d asked for a seat on an aisle because of my usual leg space/leg length ratio problems. It was only when I arrived at the correct row that I found my ticket was for the middle of a row.

After the silence for Remembrance Day we were off. Villa began well and scored early into the half. They doubled this lead just before half time. During the intervening period Villa were far superior but due to Bolton’s crappiness this wasn’t difficult. Despite their superiority Villa contrived to make things difficult by not taking the opportunities they had created.

James Milner looked very good. He was industrious (you couldn’t tell if he was a winger or an extra defender at some points), skillful and he hit some wonderful long passes. Bolton, on the other hand, plodded up the pitch. Their passing was tidy but they usually reached a dead end when they went past the centre circle. Kevin Davies wandered around like a child denied attention but still seeking to impress. On the rare occasions Bolton manufactured a good move it seemed to involve their winger Lee Chung-Yong. Lee looked like he could have caused Villa a few problems but didn’t get as much of the ball as he should have. If this is the standard fare on offer it’s no wonder that Bolton have a meagre(This is the blessed Premier League after all) amount of away fans.

Even so Bolton managed to score somehow. The ball was saved, it may have struck a post, Friedel may have got a touch to it but he was helpless to prevent the ball crossing the line. Due to the nature of the goal part of my brain assumed that there must be something wrong with the goal. Friedel must have had the same thought; his body language said “Referee, you can’t allow this effrontery to stand, it’s not cricket!!” The second half promised to be interesting.

I had a chat with one of the nice stewards at half time; my war wound was flaring up and I required a seat on an aisle. You know, like I’d asked for!! Could he help me? He said that he’d do his damnedest!! My ally and I spotted several likely candidates but, due to the nature of the modern football fan, half-time refreshments were still being consumed by a large number of inconsiderate people. “Those are free!!” No they weren’t. “What about that one? The one under the man with the scarf?” It wasn’t free. My ally eventually found me a place 2 rows up from the front. My knees almost cheered!!

Villa scored their third goal shortly after half time. Carew had it, then he didn’t, He was going to slip, ooooooh he’s still on his feet, Cahill will stop him, no he won’t, “Megs!!” It was quite the most skillful stumble you’re ever likely to see. Then Villa had a penalty. “Don’t let Ashley Young take it!!” implored a young fan. Milner strode up purposefully, the keeper saved. Sidwell fired at an open goal, he hit a post. Milner scored whilst falling. Would we see a clean goal at this end?  Cuellar flicked the ball past the keeper for Villa’s fifth. We had our clean goal!

It was a very happy car on the way home. Gaz was happy with the result, Neil was happy with his ticket and I was happy to have rediscovered faith in humanity. There are nice people out there, even in the Premier League!!

Selective memory

The Daily Mail, or Daily Xenophobe, is in another frothing temper. This time it’s over the issue of wearing poppies, or to be more exact, whether you have a poppy embroidered into your shirt or you don’t.  Thankfully some people can see through another attempt at playing the politics of shame by right wingers. Ironically, those on the right never seem to like it when those on the left play the “bleeding hearts” card.

The “Poppy Power” campaign of the Daily Xenophobe could be called “Poppy Fascism” when looked at from a certain point of view. The hectoring vilification, through the creation of a hostile atmosphere, of anyone that prefers calm consideration before acting is precisely the type of society that British soldiers fought against in World War 2. (Incidentally the poppy helps to represent the loss of life in that war too.).

It’s slightly distasteful to think that the vilification of people, far far stronger than today’s example, also took place during the Great War itself. For example, whenever people didn’t automatically leapfrog down the street to join the party in the Belgian mud. The really distasteful bit of it was that it was usually carried out by people that didn’t want to fight, i.e. rich newspaper owners, or weren’t allowed to fight, i.e. women. They simply urged everyone to join the jolly throng while they sat at home. If a soldier happened to be on leave from the front and they chose to wear a civilian suit they could be presented with the ultimate symbol of cowardice, a white feather. Incidentally footballers were also vilified in 1914 for appearing to want to carry on playing football instead of joining their country for the big game.

It’s not really the fact that the Daily Xenophobe is campaigning about people wearing the Poppy that is the problem. People should remember the sacrifices that people of previous generations made for liberty. The problem is the tone of the coverage that is the main problem.

People on the right seem to view the first half of the twentieth century as a period when Britain proved they were great by beating the Hun twice. ”WE MUST BE PROUD!!! PROUD TO BE BRITISH!!! PROUD OF THIS SCEPTERED ISLE!!!……” If you don’t view history in this way you’re committing emotional treason.

Let us not forget that during the First World War almost an entire generation of males in Britain were wiped out. This generation was sacrificed by general staffs clinging to outdated tactics, unwilling to adapt to new weaponry and stationed in relative  luxury while their comrades slogged around in the mud. “Lions led by Donkeys” as the cliché says. (Yes, yes, yes, the great victories of 1918 were due the brilliance of those in charge.)

To add insult to the injury the sacrifices of this generation were callously ignored by the ruling classes. The status quo was retained; “Right old Bean, you’ve done your bit and the country is proud. Now shuffle off back to the factory where you belong, Jeeves will see you out!”. This situation remained unchanged until after World War 2; witness the General Strike and the Jarrow March.

It took the loss of life from the two most destructive wars in human history to achieve a degree of social justice in Britain. How can anyone be proud of this? The fact that soldiers had to go through years of unspeakable suffering should make people angry. The Daily Xenophobe’s anger is aimed in the wrong direction, quelle surprise.

Flint, where it’s at!!!

Flint Town United 0 Bangor City 1

Welsh Cup 3rd Round

A Welsh Cup day was upon us again, what a lovely phrase!!! Over the years these days have become synonymous with revelry, frivolity and much laughter. The memories of Welsh Cups past lay heavily on our recollections, everybody seems to make more of an effort to enjoy the day. It’s as if we expect them to be better days, more enjoyable, more drunken. To be fair they usually are.

I met the other adventurous handsome heroes in Llandudno Junction and the atmosphere was building, gradually. We arrived in Flint with plenty of time to have another good Welsh Cup day, the chips were hot, the beers were cold and the cobwebs were numerous.

After paying 20p to enter Flint’s social club there was yet more beer and Arsenal versus Spurs to keep us going. I was so deep in discussion about the perniciousness of the market economy that I almost forgot to leave for the ground in time. We arrived just before kick off.

Watching football in Flint’s ground puts one in mind of the Vinnie Jones opus “Mean Machine”; the environs hint at a prison compound. Having said that, the brutal chic  is different from the railing and livestock backdrop we usually see at Bangor away matches, Cae-y-Castell actually looks like a place where football is played.

We were attacking the end with less trees in the first half and were nearly behind early on. Smithy came out and smothered the ball, in the manner of a soldier protecting his comrades from a hand grenade. Then Smithy collided with Brewie, in the manner of Hulk Hogan dispatching Ric Flair over the ropes. A few minutes later Brewie left the pitch. A few minutes later Flint’s fans cheered for some reason. We didn’t know why, the ball was clearly not over the line. We saw this very clearly from our position. Then we scored and celebrated as such. Then the goal was disallowed. Then we heard the ridiculing laughter. Then we went quiet. Then Football Genius scored, a header, BANG!!!!!! Then we laughed, life was good!!!

The second half was rather uncomfortable, but in a comfortable way. We could have scored a couple; we hit the bar twice and there were a few breaks that looked promising. Due to the nature of the scoreline every time Flint had the ball in our box we clenched, each time could have been THAT horrible moment. To release tension fans will try to find a safety valve, this time we chose the opposing keepers’ idiosyncrasies. He cried; “Left!!!”, we cried; “RIGHT, RIGHT, RIGHT!!!!” He cried; “Alan!!!” We Cried. “ALAN!!! ALAN!!!! ALAN!!!  STEVE!!!! STEVE!!!! STEVE!!!” Mash cried; “DEMIS ROUSSOS!!! THOMPSON TWINS!!!” It was all very juvenile but it helped to ease the tension and in this credit crunch nervous tension can lead to terrible health problems.

The final whistle meant relief and another trip to the clubhouse. As we found in Aberystwyth, positioning is everything when you’re hungry. This time we had a man by the split in the curtain. Les, the inside man, steadily supplied us with contraband peanuts and sandwiches. A cunning steward spotted what was happening and cut off our supply. Quick-footed Les was Indiana Jones for a split second, he narrowly avoided the snap of the curtains shutting. Draws and Bangor fans don’t seem to mix, we just can’t keep a lid on our exuberance. They had to do the draw behind closed curtain. News filtered out through the door, we’d drawn Ammanford!!!! No, no, no, no, we’d drawn Aberaman. We left Flint happy, on a train.

Kev Price Continues…..

More tales from the Premier League with our guest correspondent Kevin Price……

Hello again!! It’s Kevin here!! Well I was asked to write something last week and what a week to pick! That’s football for you, one day you’ve gone down to Club 147 to laugh at the Scousers getting beaten in Europe and a few days later and you’ve got them gloating over their jammy win.

You got to love those bitter fans of History FC, they haven’t won the League for nearly 2 decades (that’s right all you Scousers reading this, 20 years, 2 zero, that’s a fact Rafa!) yet you’d think they’d won the League last Sunday. Jesus they’re so bitter, they’re almost as bad as Citeh fans!!

And another thing, when you hear History FC fans being interviewed on Sky none of them actually come from the self pity City. An Everton fan I know, another Kev as it happens!!, says they all come from Norway anyway. It makes us laugh every time we meet up in Llandudno to watch the football; “How many of their fans are actually Scousers?” we ask ourselves, what a joke those Scousers are in Llandudno!! They  have a go at United for having no fans in United when they don’t come from the self pity City themselves. As for Citeh, I’m not worried, same old same old, bitter twats!!

Kowalski leant me Looking for Eric the other day but apart from Eric the King’s part I didn’t like it, there wasn’t enough United in it. I couldn’t go with him to watch FC United last Saturday because I was playing golf. He said it was good but last time I stood I only paid £6 and it gave me a bad back. I prefer sitting myself. Speaking of which a mate of mine has promised to get me a ticket before Christmas but he’s let me down in the past so I won’t hold out much hope. Besides it won’t matter if I don’t, I’ll watch it in 147. You get a good atmosphere in 147, there’s loads of regulars, it’s just like the match. Plus you can wind up all the Scousers who go there as well.

Well in terms of the League we may be second at the moment but that won’t be a problem, Europe, we’ll be through again no problems, we’re even through again in the League Cup. Compare that to History FC and it makes it even better, almost out of Europe and behind us again in the League. That’s a Fact you bitter Scousers.

See You soon,

Kev

 

(Ed: The Llandudno Jet Set does not endorse the views written by this author)

The Road to Hamburg Continued…..

So how is the Road holding up? Well there are no bottlenecks yet.

2nd Qualifying Round

Honka Espoo V Bangor City - Honka Espoo won 3-0 on aggregate

3rd Qualifying Round

Honka Espoo V FK Qarabeg – FK Qarabeg won 3-1 on aggregate

Play-Off Round

FC Twente V FK Qarabeg – FC Twente won 3-1 on aggregate

Group Stage

Fenerbache 1  FC Twente 2 

FC Twente 0  Steaua Bucharest 0

FC Sheriff 2  FC Twente 0

FC Twente V FC Sheriff

FC Twente V Fenerbache

Steaua Bucharest V FC Twente

Well there goes the theory, Bangor gave up the baton and it’s been passed on and passed on and passed on…….

Soulful weekend

Bangor City 4 Prestatyn Town 0

Welsh Premier League

Thanks to the doom and gloom spewed forth, the entity known as Bangor City was surrounded by much trepidation. We have an attack that can’t be arsed, a midfield that is terrible and a defence that’s not much better. We were stuck in the valley waiting for annihilation, the football version of Rorke’s Drift.

They attacked from the off, it was relentless. Passes found their intended targets. Shots found the net. Shots were smashed here there and everywhere. Were my eyes deceiving me? Weren’t all of the players shooting, and passing well!, wearing the blue of Bangor? No it couldn’t be, wait a minute Sion’s about to score. He does score, that makes it   3-0 you say. Well well well.

Bangor were already 2-0 up thanks to goals from Limbo (a low shot after a never-ending run across the edge of the area) and Reedy (a smart shot after a smart turn) when Sion sidefooted his contribution. The passing was superb, one touch, short, long, medium, it had them all. My favourite was a pass to Sion that arrowed across the turf, just around a defender’s outstretched leg. Jesus, I thought we were crap this season, and Prestatyn are 3rd in the League as well. It was too easy.

The second half passed me by a bit, I had conversation after conversation. The match was that enjoyable kind where you didn’t need to keep track of things too much because the situation is so relaxed, we were too far ahead. A few details that I did manage to notice included; Prestatyn’s Number 5 appears to be a tool (, he fouled, he squared up to people, he tapped Stotty’s ankles then squared up to people, which led to a footballer’s aggression followed by Prestatyn’s manager diving to attempt incrimination); one of the ball boys accidentally kicked the ball into the face of Prestatyn’s keeper, the look of shock was rather amusing; finally and most beautifully, many evidentally joyful visages at the final whistle.

A good day!!

Northwich Victoria 3 FC United of Manchester 0

F.A. Cup 4th Qualifying Round

It’s hard not to see the romantic side of FC United. They are, of course, they are a fan-owned club set up by disgruntled fans of Manchester United. You sense the romanticism in Ken Loach’s Looking for Eric. So with a free saturday and FC United playing in the F.A. Cup just down the road the romantic in me made plans to go to Northwich. Watching Looking for Eric last week also helped to focus my thinking.

After checking the plans for this match I found that Northwich operates a “Cash-free entry system” or “buying a ticket” as it’s usually known to you and me. We had to carry out this step well beforehand so we didn’t become part of the multitude that will only turn up on the day of the game. Why do multitudes always leave it to the last minute?

A brilliant two-part plan was hatched in order to avoid disappointment. Part One; misread an electronic timetable in Chester Station. It’s amazing how modern technology can make a 3 and an 8 appear similar. Part Two; turn the 10 minute stroll, from the nearest station, into a 25 minute hike. The plan worked perfectly; I arrived at 10 past three. I may have missed the kick-off but I’d also missed the congestion.

On my way to the ground heard a faint throbbing, whatever it was was muffled by trees. As I cleared the trees the throbbing changed into more recognisable sounds, a crowd! The songs became clearer the closer you got to the ground. By the time I got through the turnstile I could see that FC United fans made up about 2/3 of the crowd, and they were in full voice. After visiting the toilet I interacted with a fan “Would you care for a hot dog?” I thought; “What’s the point, it’s dead!” I said; ”No Thanks”.

I hadn’t been on a packed terrace for several years so I’d forgotten the basics, I was quickly reminded; 1) Getting somewhere is difficult; 2) The etiquette i.e. don’t stand in anyones’ way, be careful with bags (i.e. don’t swing them around), don’t tread on peoples’ feet, etc, etc; 3) Your view may be interrupted. After the enforced recollection it was almost a pleasure to stand there. Then again today was always about more than just going to another match, it always felt like being a very small part of something special.

From this point of view the day didn’t disappoint. For a start the songs were witty. I especially liked the re-worked punk ones; “I am an FC fan, I am Mancunian, I know what I want and I know how to get it, I wanna destroy Glazer and Sky…” A classic by any definition. Now the crowd may not have appeared very romantic, in your classic sense (on one occasion a few people indulged in the chant “Murderersssssss, murdererssssssss” when the subject of Liverpool came to their mind) but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel a warm glow being part of this crowd.

I felt as though I was part of a proper football crowd. You just had to hear snippets of peoples’ conversations to realise that these people were proper fans; been there, seen it, got the tall tales to tell about it all. Due to the fact that these people were here and not just waiting for tomorrows big game shows why there is a problem with the Premier League; it alienates people.

If you read around on the subject of the foundation of FC United you will know that lots of people were unable to stomach the direction in which the capitalist behemoth of Manchester United was taking. You will also realise that FC United is not just a protest against the ownership of Manchester United, it was also about a sense of frustration at modern football, at what’s missing from the modern “match-going experience”.

You do gain a sense that the FC United fans feel an alienation from their past, how part of their life had been diluted. To put it simply, as one fan did in one of the extras on the Looking for Eric DVD; “Basically following United wasn’t fun any more.” That world has become less about feeling and more about experiencing, and it has squeezed anything out that couldn’t be packaged and sold as wholesome family entertainment. It’s now a world where standing up is forbidden, taking photos is a crime and even singing can frowned upon.

On the other hand all of these FC United fans are actually united, united by the idea that there is more to football than spending all your disposable income on it. They are united by the idea that their Saturdays had been turned into drab experiences by desiccated counting machines in marketing offices. Due to the fact that there appeared to be many  long-standing fans of Manchester United here today there seems to be a good deal of mileage in the theory of “alienation felt by traditional football fans”. If this match is typical then every FC United match is a ludic festival. They seem to have created what was missing by themselves and you have to applaud that.

Anyway, the match. You’ve probably already guessed that this was of secondary importance for me today. It would have been nice to see FC United win but the fact they didn’t wasn’t too annoying. FC had a lot of the ball but they didn’t really create many clearcut chances. In the first half Vics didn’t really look like scoring either. In the second half Vics had a bit more about them but still didn’t look much like scoring until they earned a dubious looking penalty. The number 11 seemed to vault over the challenge in a more theatrical manner than a lot of people with nefarious reputations for such behaviour. He held his painful shin for ages before the penalty but was sufficiently recovered to play a full part in the celebration of the goal. Vics looked dangerous on the break after this and FC looked about the same. Vics scored their second via an own goal. The deflation of the crowd around me was almost audible. Vics scored their third in injury time to give the match a very unfair image. Northwich didn’t look that much better than FC United even though FC United are in the division below.

On the way home I had to wait in Chester station for the connecting train. Whilst there I couldn’t help hearing joyful  lilt of the Dublin brogue wafting around the ether. I turned around to see plenty of Irish tourists, wearing red clothes and accessories, waiting on the platform for Liverpool-bound trains. It wouldn’t have taken Sherlock Holmes to deduce that they had tickets for tomorrow’s game. There won’t be a more succinct example why clubs like FC United come into existence.

Democratic Deficit

10:35 pm: I write this as Herr Griffin is about to insult the British people by appearing in public. We will report back later…..

…..11:40 pm: Herr Griffin appears to be the man who never said nuffink. He is the most mis-quoted, taken out of context and  mis-represented person in Britain, apparently. Luckily there is plenty of evidence on the internet to remind Herr Griffin of what he has said.

There is also plenty of evidence from tonight’s Question Time that when the Fascists are pushed slightly to explain themselves, or when logic is applied to any of their core beliefs i.e. “The Problems of Modern Britain”, they  came across as stuttering buffoons. Herr Griffin was almost unable to explain any ideas coherently, what a shit politician, what a cunt of a person. At least more people can now see this for themselves.

He’s lost the dressing room!!

That would surely be a sackable offence in any job, losing an entire room. “I just put it down somewhere, now where did I put it?” Imagine if there were people in there at the time!!  Gareth Southgate has been sacked but not for that crime, he’s been sacked for the wholly unreasonable faux-pas of being 4th in the League and one point off top spot. Fair enough too, how are the ‘boro fans supposed to cope with another failure to qualify for the Champions League?

Why aren’t Middlesborough in their rightful place? Why isn’t every club in their rightful place?…….. “That Megson, he’s reached a dead end, he gotta go”……That O’Neill, what’s ‘e doing, we ain’t ever gonna win the league like”……..”Rafa, Rafa, Rafa, 4 defeats on the trot, 4 defeats!!! not good enough, you gotta go”……..”Arsene, you’ve lost the plot, you gotta go!!!”………”I didn’t go to the game like but e’s gotta go”………”I’ve played Championship Manager, it’s not that hard!!”……….” ‘e’s lost the dressing room!!”……..

Famous Bangor City Fans

Number 2

(In an occassional series)

The Musician John Lennon

Catching Up.

Rhyl 5 Bangor City 1

Welsh Premier League

11/09/09

Ahhhh, Rhyl on a Friday, does it get any better? Tonight it was very much a case of…………..Well, I just don’t have the vocabulary. We lost and lost badly. However it was one of those losses that you can’t get you head around it. The last time it happened was the 5-2 hammering by Slovakia nearly 3 years ago. Like that horrible afternoon every time the opposition passed the ball over the halfway line they went on to score In fact Rhyl scored 4 in  the first half hour, how the fuck……….? I looked around for inspiration but no-one could enlighten me. The nearest thing to an explanation was the idea that it wasn’t so much total football from Rhyl but a total mess from City, whatever it was it was all very annoying.

The second half was boring, we scored 1 and so did they. Therefore you might say that it was 1-1 in the second half. We only lost one half, that was a fact. Whichever way you looked at the match the hordes of screaming teenage girls seemed pleased with their new club.

Llandudno Town 2 Bethesda Town 1

Welsh Cup Round 1

12/09/09

The afternoon after the nightmare before saw me in Llandudno’s home ground. It felt like a Bangor match, many of us were there. We stood, and sat, in the pleasant sun and forgot that last night had happened. It happened gradually through the medium of jokes and inane drivel. Finding a load of old programmes helped to awaken memories of Bangor legend Lee Harley. By the way, the game was a bit crap and settled by a late goal.

Bangor City 3 Newtown 0

Loosemore’s League Cup

15/9/09

This was the antidote to the poison, the elixir for our jaded hopes. We had two quick goals, incisive passing and a red card. Limbo was sent off for what looked like coughing too close at an opposition player, a heinous crime with Swine Flu rampant. Bangor scored their third in the second via a long-range Smythe shot and everybody was happy, so happy that not a frown was seen.

Bangor City 0 The New Saints 1

Welsh Premier League

19/9/09

We missed this due to an inconsiderate friend deciding to marry during the football season. We all had a nice day, you’ll be glad to hear. The crushing of hope barely entered our thinking.

The New Saints 5 Bangor City 2

Loosemore’s League Cup

22/9/09

I started this match by being ripped off, £3 for a programme, 3 effing pounds for an effing programme. Apparently it was a double issue, one for today and one for Friday. Wait a minute, why would anybody want a programme for another match in the Welsh Premier League that you are not going to see?; The demeanour of the seller seemed to shout; “It’s £3 or nothing”…. “Whadda you mean you want one with staples?”

The conditions felt frosty so the pitch looked decidedly unsafe but the goal nets were finally fixed after 2 seasons. The match went as follows; they scored, we scored, they scored. Half-Time. They scored, we scored, they scored 2 more. We had a chance at 3-2 but we literally threw the result to them. This match wasn’t one of those golden periods in a fan’s life and that is all that needs to be said.

Tranmere Rovers 1 Colchester United 1

Coca-Cola League 1

26/9/09

We had harboured a plan to go and see Bangor away in Haverfordwest but then we found out about the 6 and a half hour train journey down there (arriving in Haverfordwest 10 minutes before kick off) and the return journey that meant we had to leave at half-time. The journey somehow didn’t feel worth the effort after this meagre research.

So now we had a window for that journey to Tranmere we’d never quite got around to making! The fact that I’d never met a Tranmere I didn’t like and the fact that Half Man Half Biscuit are season ticket holders had always engendered a favourable disposition towards the men in white.

I spent the morning gazing at culture in the Albert Dock. The Passing Winter by Yayoi Kusama was fascinating, it is made of mirrors and every time you looked through one of the several holes in the sides you were presented with an infinite view of shapes and colours. It was so good that it certainly took your mind off the pretentious wankers milling around.

Outside of the cultural high spots one felt surrounded by an atmosphere less ethereal but no less magical. There was a denim turnup here, a stylishly bedraggled hairstyle there and tasteful athletic-styled footwear everywhere; The Scandinavians were definitely in town. The signs were there; mile after mile of alfresco pub table was dominated by groups of men proudly displaying their Official Liverpool F.C.™ Carrier Bags.

As I walked around Liverpool city centre I was struck by a slightly strange feeling; I was obviously going to a game but I somehow felt that I was missing out on the “Big Game”, the hype of the Premier League is so insidious that it invades through the pores. I was just going to buy those official club slippers when I was shaken out of it by the sight of a man and his son, they were both obviously Liverpool fans and they were obviously not going to the game. Unable to go because they been cast aside, cast aside because they can’t spend a week’s wages on club shop tat. Whereas our Scandinavian and Irish friends……

So there I was outside Birkenhead Central, “Go down there, it’s about 15 minutes.” Then it was; “Go up there and then down there, it’s about 20 minutes.” Then it was; “Go along there, round the corner and up there, it’s about 40 minutes” Finally it was “Go to the crossroads, turn right, then left, go up the hill and down the road, it’s about half an hour love!!” In the end it took about ten minutes to go up a bit, down a bit and along a bit.

My ticket was unreserved so I went to the back of the Kop with the Ultras. Colchester unfurled a huge red ensign enscribed with the legend “Brentwood Loyal.” Jesus, these twats never do subtle. The match was quite interesting. Tranmere played nice football,  stroking the ball about well.

I didn’t quite see why John Barnes garners all the stick that he does, maybe it’s because he appears to be very calm. I know they hadn’t started the season off very well but they played the ball around well and didn’t seem in too much danger themselves. Tranmere scored first but couldn’t hold on to the lead for very long. The half time whistle was copied by quite a few Tranmere fans. In the second half Tranmere had a go and could have scored but couldn’t control their shooting well enough. I left just before the end to try and warm up on the way to the station. It was “straight down there for about 15 minutes” after all.

Bangor City 4 Elements Cefn Druids 1

Welsh Cup Round 2

3/10/09

At half time all was doom and gloom, we were out. 2 unbeaten years were at an end, there was to be no trip to Llanelli and we hadn’t even had an away trip to mid Wales. Ian Rush’s son Jonathan had prevailed and Greame Sharp’s son hadn’t. Some time into the second half the ball was by Bangor’s goal, Smithy missed it. They were going to score again!! A Druid shot but missed, another Druid shot but it hit something, another Druid shot but this was blocked and cleared.

Several minutes later we equalised. It’s rare that you actually see such a sharply defined turning point in a match but today we had. Bangor looked disjointed and Druids had the goal at their mercy but we survived. After the equaliser we scored again and again and again. The last goal was cheeky, Sharpy ran past everyone before Reedy literally took it off his toe to score, Sharpy’s face was a picture – “The Scream”

Bangor City Reserves 5 Bro Goronwy 1

Some Cup

8/10/09

Wales U21s 2 Bosnia-Herzegovina U21s 0

UEFA U21 Championships Qualifier

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bangor City 0 Aberystwyth Town 1

Welsh Premier League

11/10/09

The least said about this match the better. It wasn’t so much the match, (we could have scored loads in the first 20 minutes but didn’t, Aber scored and then we tried to score but couldn’t) , it was more the aftermath on the Internet. The troublemakers were either Agent Provocateurs or people with a short memory.

It seems that the unpleasant culture of the football phone-in has reared its hideous head at our level. Where have all the placid, reasonable people gone? Even when you run a mile to avoid fucking Lovejoy, Spoony and Talksport, their corrosive presence oozes through besmirching everything.

Welshpool 1 Bangor City 2

Welsh Premier League

17/10/09

For the second time in a month I missed a game, what is the world coming to? Well I was planning to go….

The Road to…………

After the match in Wrexham a few of us talked about Bangor playing Athletico Madrid in 1984. After they beat us Athletico went all the way to the final, would Honka do the same? In the manner of the Road to Wembley, let’s do a Road to Hamburg!! We start with Bangor City of course.

If Honka did win the Trophy at least we could say it took the winners to knock us out!!

Let’s see then.

2nd Qualifying Round

Honka Espoo V Bangor City - Honka Espoo won 3-0 on aggregate

 

3rd Qualifying Round

Honka Espoo V FK Qarabeg – FK Qarabeg won 3-1 on aggregate

 

Play-Off Round

FC Twente V FK Qarabeg – FC Twente won 3-1 on aggregate

 

Group Stage

Fenerbache 1 V FC Twente 2 

FC Twente V Steaua Bucharest

FC Sheriff V FC Twente

FC Twente V FC Sheriff

FC Twente V Fenerbache

Steaua Bucharest V FC Twente

Europe, all over the place.

Now that the Europa League is back on, it seems about the right time to share our experiences from earlier in this season.

Bangor City 0 Honka Espoo 1

Europa League 2nd Qualifying Round

With all of the excitement  leading up to the draw weeks ago you would think that excitement would be tangible but you’d be wrong, it felt quite anti-climactic. I’d missed the trip for the first leg so this was a very pale imitation. About  30 minutes before kick off we found out who we’d playing the next round, if we got through obviously. We’d play…….FK Qarabeg from Azerbaijan. Bloody Nora, I don’t have the kind of cash required to get to Baku just lying around. Why couldn’t Rosenborg have won, it’s only £330 for a return by Coach. In other words, no Bangor European trip for me. The anti-climax doubled.

Even though it was all an anti-climax first hand reports from half-time in the first game still gave me hope we could win. They made it clear that we could win, but would this idea be clear after the game? It certainly was clear from about half an hour in that Honka weren’t too good. This fact was perfectly illustrated by their goal; it took a mistake to present them with a clear opportunity to score. They sat on the lead and frustrated us. The fact that we now needed 4 goals obviously obviously deflated the players.

The worst thing about this game was that Honka quite clearly reinforced the first hand reports from Finland; They quite beatable. It was very annoying. To compare them to Midtjylland, there is no comparison. Midtjylland could pass, Honka couldn’t. Midtjylland could shoot well, Honka couldn’t. We just couldn’t apply much worthwhile pressure onto them so we didn’t have many chances. Most people put the deciding factor down to their higher level of fitness. Then to top it all, the fuckers didn’t even hang around. They were tracksuited and sitting on their coach before some of the crowd had left the car park.

Fulham 3 Vetra 0

Europa League 3rd Qualfying Round

Two weeks on from Bangor’s exit and I was in London. I checked in to my luxury accommodation and it is refreshing to see that the spirit of Rachman is alive and well. 12 to a room, sinks hanging off wall, unknown stains on wall etc etc. Well, it was £9 a night. At these prices polite service is an option. On my whistle stop tour of London I paid my respects to the International Brigades, found a great deal of annoying tourists (not like me obviously) and prayed that the threatening clouds would not produce rain in the following evening.

Fulham’s ground is in a very lovely location. From the Fulham Broadway tube station you traverse a park then walk down a very pleasant street. All of a sudden you’re there; a tasteful row of brick buildings houses the main stand. Being there, looking at the back of the famous cottage, and the Main Stand’s orangy brown facade, you are again reminded that unfortunately the football grounds of Great Britain are becoming personality-free zones. Where are the little quirks and the interesting oddities in the income-maximising porridge that passes for our modern super-stadia? We’ll return to this subject at a later date.

You could really savour the idyllic urban location, if the weather was pleasant, unfortunately it was pissing down. There was no time to stop and stare lest you contract Swine Flu, not that I had been worried by the multitude of adverts everywhere. Luckily I had to queue for my tickets and even better the queue was reasonably large. The booth didn’t have my ticket, another queue to wait in. After this it got even better.

Outside the turnstiles there was a seething, directionless mass of people. Fortunately everyone was remarkably good natured about everything. When I finally made it to a turnstile my ticket wouldn’t scan in the reader, bloody Nora! As I went to tell a steward he told me; just tell him to rip the stub off, so much for modern technology. Thankfully the Fulham fans were still serene. The serenity might be due to a simple fact; Fulham seem to have a lot of Posh fans and it is unseemly to express displeasure loudly. Today I saw the Poshest fans that I’ve ever seen queuing to get into a football match, it was all Tweed and elegant dishevelment.

The match was preceded by a minute silence for Bobby Robson but I’d obviously missed that, although I had seen the nice tribute of scarves tied to a gate outside the Cottage. The match was so-so in the first half, Fulham had most of the possession and most of the chances. Vetra looked skillful in places but seemed to lose their way near the point where you should really think about shooting, or something like that.

At one point I realised that I’d been there nearly an hour, an hour of dampness, an hour of clammy slight discomfort. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as October due to the humidity but clamminess never feels right. The whole evening could have been a total disappointment if it wasn’t for the charm of the Fulham fans. Despite their team failing to score there were no people shouting incoherently. There were a few disapproving murmurs but there were no bulging veins. I even had a conversation with someone, yes a conversation with a complete stranger in London. The whole situation had an unfamiliar feeling. After 20 minutes of hard thinking I remembered what this feeling was; Paitience!!

This outlook was rewarded after nearly an hour when Fulham took the lead. Not long after that Fulham scored their second and third. The main architect of Fulham’s win was Clint Dempsey. The American pulled the levers very effectively.

I was glad that Fulham had won, they have the nicest fans I’ve met in a long while, I felt a warm glow as I left amongst the happy throng. I trudged back to the tube, slowly getting  soaked and the thought of my palatial accommodation jabbing at my reverie. The glow dissipated.

Aston Villa 2 Rapid Vienna 1

Europa League Play-Off Round

The next stop on the Jet Set Euro tour was Villa Park. Rapid Vienna are one of the more evocative names in European Football; Speed, skill, the exotic. Ever since I’d trespassed in their ground I’d had a soft spot for them. A bit of research on You Tube would reveal to you that  their fans are quite passionate and quite loud, they do a wonderful rendition of the Lambada. When I found out that this match was only £15 a ticket it was chance I didn’t want to miss.

Greying skies greeted us in the grey city. The Bullring offered interesting photo opportunities and possible bankruptcy. A Wetherspoons offered slightly cheaper food than Llandudno and the railway offered cheap travel. As we came closer to the ground we took in the sights and smells; sizzling burgers are your gateway to football. After picking up our tickets we waltzed around the ground and we could hear the Ultras Rapid in full voice, it sounded fun. Just before our turnstile I noticed a booth selling tickets in the away end. Shit, we could have been up there!

We went in and they’d sold out of programmes. I went to have a look at the Ultras and they were loud, a steward casually remarked; “They’re Nazis ain’t they!!!………..guffaw……….guffaw”. We made our way to our seat and passed some youths doing Nazi salutes with a finger under their noses. Ye Gods, I’d been there five minutes and I already wanted Villa to get hammered. We found “our” seats; the ones with a bit of legroom. I began to snap away at the Ultras, they had been singing for fully 15 minutes now and it all looked very impressive.

Just before kick off the Ultras began some choreographed moves. Just into the game most of them had removed their shirts. Everyone one of them was on their feet. I tried to read the banners but there were too many. It was all very very impressive. The Villa fans were evidentially stuck to their seats and instructed to remain silent.

Then Villa got a penalty and their fans awoke, the glue had worn off!! They made a quarter turn to taunt the Ultras before you could say “What a Bunch of Arseholes!!” Ashley Young calmly missed the penalty and the Villa fans calmly returned to their silent protest. The Ultras calmly returned to their chanting. I calmly continued to snap away.

Villa were awarded a second penalty. Villa’s fans near me made the same journey but this time the remained in gloat mode as Milner scored. Several minutes later the gloating was accompanied by a considerable rise in “armstretching-as-celebration”. The Ultras continued to chant and I continued to snap. The behaviour of the Ultras was probably more enjoyable to watch than the match.

Just before half time my snapping ceased. A steward told me I wasn’t allowed to, it was against the rules or something. Jesus Christ, it’s as if the Newspapers and Premier League are actually worried that their syndicated snappers, with their giant lenses, will be made redundant  by fuzzy ouput from us fans. What are clubs going to do next to protect their copyright? Develop a forcefield that wipes your mind just as you leave the stand? Then you will only be able to remember things through officially licensed outlets.

Villa doubled their lead early in the second half and the fans gloated with added relish; there was a flourish to the arm-stretching. Their fans then had the cocksure look of people who knew they’d won, it was all very annoying. The Ultras never gave up, the noise was constant. They were still shirtless. Villa could have scored a few more but the Ultras were never silenced. Then Rapid were on the verge…… The ball bounced in the 6 yard box and there it was, 4 yards from goal…….The goalkeeper was helpless!!!……. The Number 16 swung his leg at it………..The ball flew over. The gloaters stretched forth once more. Even then the Ultras keep up their rhythm, maybe they knew something.

The ball went into the area again, a save!!! Number 16 was near the ball, he had an awkward shot, the ball was in!!!!!!! The Ultras seemed to pulsate from where we were standing. The gloating was now absent. How silly those people looked now!!! Number 16 wasn’t finished, he had the ball at his feet again, he was in the area again!! He just needed to sidefoot the ball into the goal…………. The clumsy bugger somehow trod on the ball. The match remained at 2-1 to Rapid, Villa were out.

20 minutes after the game and we were on another cheap train towards New Street. Some Bloke droned on. To condense his ideas “O’Neill should go, he’s gone as far as he can. It happens every time, with every manager, they lose it; Taylor, Gregory, Atkinson, all of them!!!” One is left to wonder; If this is a perpetual situation why doesn’t he just go in the good seasons? In fact why doesn’t he try a new hobby, flower arranging for example as it’s creative and calm. But why am I carping? What would football be without the cast-iron, copper-bottomed, never fail, certainties that fans hold dear? Less irritating probably.

Note to Self: When people start to moan on public transport turn up my radio.

Note to Self: Buy some headphones

Llandudno Jet Set FC Update

The more observant amongst you will have noticed that the fixtures column on the right (Now not needed) had not been updated for several months.  Why the lack of effort? Was it due to the fact that we lost to nearly everybody? We lost to teams we could have beaten and teams we perhaps should have beaten.  Was it sour grapes?

Not really. Losing becomes a habit the pundits will tell you and it’s true, we couldn’t win at some points. Habits become second nature so we just got used to it. For example, our losing streak was annoying at first but the more it went on the less we began to care about it. Also we soon realised we weren’t the best team (a nice case of understatement) near the start of the competition, so that kept things in perspective.

It’s not that we didn’t try it’s just that the losing habit didn’t seem to bother any of us too much. When the other team scored, the resigned expressions appeared and that was that. We continued to try after every goal we conceded but it was usually pointless, we hardly won. Then we would  walk off the pitch without a word, offered a one line appraisal of the match  if we could be bothered (usually along the lines of “Jesus, How…..?”) then we went home without a word. It didn’t matter whether the other team was in the middle, at the top or at the bottom of the table it was the same reaction; We’d lost, move on to next week.

We did have some good moments too, a few flashes of gold in the pan. Usually these happened against the better teams. Maybe these moments kept us coming? And there were some teams who were pleasant, fair and nice. It didn’t matter that we’d lost to them, at least they played in the right spirit.

If the losses didn’t lead to a lack of enthusiasm what did? Well to be frank it’s difficult to care when you’re faced with the following;

People who hold the league’s regulations as an unbreakable moral code but don’t feel quite the same about the laws of our society. People who seem to think that you’re merely a canvas upon which they must display their greatness (throw in people that shout nonsensical rubbish a lot here). People who think that it’s fine to try fancy stepovers, indulge in lairy piss-takes of their team mates and laugh at their adversaries when they’re leading by the wide margin of 2 goals to nil. People who do the above but don’t like it when they’re not winning so they whine and foul and whine and foul and whine and foul. 

To sum up our feelings, it’s difficult to care about the league too much when you’re faced by people that seem to think that they are somehow very special people because they’ve won a game of football. These people have somehow forgotten that the league is in Llandudno and Llandudno is not a very big or a very  important place in the big scheme of things.

 

How the hell?…how?…..HOW?

Bangor City 2 Llanelli AFC 3

Welsh Premier League

A few minutes into this game and Chris Sharp was very quickly on to the other end of a through ball. Before you knew it the ball was in the net. Llanelli skillfully constructed their equaliser. A nice run from their number 15 was finished with a pass to Griffiths and again before you knew it the ball was in the net. Llanelli looked quite good but Bangor were also quite effective on the break. It was an enjoyable game. It became even better when Sharpy scored a penalty, it was a rather soft penalty to be honest. Soft penalty, what did we care? We were ahead, we were back on track. It was my birthday, what a present!!! 

The events of the second half rather rudely interrupted our joy. About 15 minutes after half time Smithy, rather uncharacteristically, let a Legg free kick slip awkwardly through his hands and legs into the goal. Anyone who’s been in that position will be able to sympathise. If you never have felt like that, here’s a brief taste you lucky lucky people.

(This all happens in slow motion by the way.) The situation begins with a feeling that’s best described as uncomfortable. This feeling occurs when the presumption that you’ll save the shot becomes the horrifying realisation that the ball has dribbled by, or through, your attempts to stop it. This feeling is made worse by the next step; you suddenly spring into action with the thought; “It’s ok, don’t worry, I can still stop it!!!” Your arm comes down to stop the ball but horror of horrors, the ball has travelled more quickly than you presumed and you are clumsily grasping at the ground. The ball has already passed marginally over the line. The following thoughts come to mind; (In roughly this order.) ”No-one will notice if I move the ball back over the line very quickly.”…… “Christ, the striker is already celebrating with a cheer”…….”The cheeky bastard is now laughing at me. How can he do that, doesn’t he have feelings?”………….”I hate that bastard!!!”…….

You just feel hollowed out by it and there is not a more wretched feeling on a football pitch.

Llanelli then scored again to lead for the first time. Things took an even more disturbing turn after the goal. The jittery, very annoyed, and very impaitient players in red now became the cynical time wasters known as model professionals. Their Number 6 for example; whilst Bangor were winning he was a snarling metronome, setting a quick pace whilst offering expletives. After Llanelli went ahead he became the epitome of cynicism, every attempt Bangor players made to claim for anything or quicken the pace or prevent the ball cross the goalline or anything was met with a smug, and one might say snide, grin. Twat.

At this point we’d like to say “Step forward Billy Idol alike, Chris Holloway, you win the “Biggest Comeback Since Lazarus” award.”

There he was; prostrate, immobile, vultures circling. He was “gone”, bereft of play. If he hadn’t been writhing on the pitch he’d be polishing up the subs bench! ‘e’s shuffled off ‘is playing surface, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ squad invisible!! HE WAS AN EX-FIT FOOTBALLER!!

Then the magical ball, with its restoritive powers, flew past our prone hero and he can now summon up all of his meagre strength to spring up immediately and chase after Les Davies. It’s enough to make you wonder what he had the gall to be laughing about whilst he was warming down after the game.

The piece-de-resistance. Just as we were celebrating the blessed equaliser the fickle flagging of officialdom intervened. Somehow the scorer, Jamie Reed,  was adjudged to be offside. This was despite the fact that the “Pass” to him was actually a shot blocked by a defender, Legg. It was disallowed despite Legg being the last person to touch the ball before Jamie. It was disallowed despite it  looking like Legg had touched the ball with his hand. It was disallowed despite the fact Jamie was standing BEHIND the striker of the shot (Smythy). Apart from all that there was nothing wrong with the decision.

I haven’t felt this annoyed about a result for decades.

Refs OUT!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Curlers, Clairvoyants and the Jungle Army, plus other tall tales.

Newtown 1 Bangor City 2

Loosemore’s League Cup

18/8/09

 

Newtown was the birthplace of Robert Owen but from a certain, recent, perspective Newtown AFC have not seemed co-operative to me. The case for the prosecution m’lud; we’ve drawn a few and lost a few, “the crowd control approach”, I became a victim of flag theft in the debacle known as 2009‘s League Cup Final, etc etc etc. On the other hand there was the 2008 Welsh Cup Final and our semi-final postponement from that year, where the refreshments were as free-flowing as the rain. With a bit of hindsight it’s very much a case of 6 of one and 2/3 of the other, whatever that means.

 

We arrived in Newtown and the town appeared to have been closed down. Solitary pedestrians were the only sign of life. It was eerie. Trying to find a pub with nourishment proved almost impossible. As we undertook our fruitless search the lifeless town centre seemed to be a harbinger of bad news. We found little to suggest that there was a match tonight and this added to the unease. A lack of posters is so unlike Newtown. Had we come on the wrong night?

 

Some time later and the existential clouds had cleared; we found a pub with food and after dining we found a match poster. We were sated and we were in Newtown on the right night!!! As the philosopher once said to me; “It certainly make ya tink!!!“ We humans seem simple, yet irrational. A black-tinged feeling had descended but then two small details change and everything was rosy. Is the difference between a good life and a bad life that narrow? Of course we could still lose and all that summation would be bollocks.

In the ground there were only the usual baker’s dozen of “League Cup Away Ultras”. We did our bit; mostly silent determination. Seemingly every Ultra had the same thought; “It’s a little out of place to be the only person singing”. That’s not to say that we didn’t offer an encouraging bon mot or 3 when it was required. This calmness is the very opposite of the illogical, often incoherent and frequently unpleasant “Premier League Fan”. 

The approach paid dividends near to half time. We won a free kick near the Newtown penalty area and Les spoke up: “One-Nil, Smythe”. And it came to pass. Mark struck one of those shots that’s appears to be heading into the goal as soon as it has left the taker’s boot. Our arms were in the air just after the ball was around the wall. 1-0 half-time.

Just into the second half I felt the need of the toilet so I thought it might be expedient to visit the toilet. I heard the unmistakable noise, Bangor had scored. I asked who was the scorer, Sharpy came the answer. It was 2-0 and that would do of course, especially Newtown had appeared to be mostly crap for most of the game. What did they Newtown next? They scored of course. That goal of course made things a little more uncomfortable, 2-0 is the most uncomfortable of leads. Luckily they didn’t add another.

A word here for Limbo. Our captain has garnered a bit of stick recently. Mind you this stick appears to emanate from the same quarters and it seems to coincide with defeats, how odd!!! The critics would have been less effusive after this performance. Limbo’s passing was superb, one particular pass was delicately spread from the right wing just over the defence ( just 6 inches over the right back’s head) straight to Smythy’s feet. Then there is the trademark turn that still functions perfectly. It’s enough evidence to disprove things but whadda ya know, the critics weren’t here to see it. Nev In!!

 

 

Bangor City 3 Neath Athletic 1

Welsh Premier League

22/8/09

Today’s opponents were supposed to be one of the high-flyers due to their expenditure. Were they Full-time or not though? We didn’t know but with Welsh International Craig Llewellyn in their team they could be difficult.

Football (and indeed the world) is about questions and frustration. Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. If football was worked out on paper and not played on grass? If every shot went in? If every every tackle was well time? If Richard Littlejohn wasn’t a raging xenophobic prick? This match cleared up the doubts, and questions, at least until next week.

We went one up thanks to a smart turn, and a smart shot, from Jamie Reed, it was good! Just before half -time it became great; we went 2-0 up. For the second game in a week I missed the scorer. After half -time Neath managed to score, the ball sort of hobbled over the line via a post.

Then, for the second time this week, an act of clairvoyance led to a City Goal. A free kick was awarded and Alwyn Spoke Forth; “Smythe, 3-1!!” Again the ball looked in just after it had cleared the wall. My camera captured the event for posterity again. AHA!! It must be the combination of the two. Next week My Camera and Les will tell you the date Britain will be finally out of recession.

So it’s two win on the trot. Is this the start of a beautiful run? Nev still in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Bangor City 0 The New Saints 2

Loosemore’s League Cup

25/8/09

 

The beautiful run ended after two games. TNS looked rather professional, stroking the ball about and all that jazz. They were already 1-0 up and comfortable when they introduced Usain Bolt’s slightly faster cousin. He outpaced everyone to set up the second TNS goal. There are just some games you know that you’re not going to win and this was one of them. Powell Out!!

Elements Cefn Druids 0 Bangor City 1

Welsh Premier League

29/8/09

Some matches are remarkable for the action, some are remarkable for the goals, some for the saves, some for the kits. This match will become known as the starting point of something remarkable too. Today’s match is, was and forever shall be known as the birth of “Neville Powell’s Jungle Army”. And so it came to pass, Plas Kynaston’s indolent gardeners did leave perfect cover for a Jungle Army. We came, we saw, we sang, no-one saw us.

There was I, using the canopy as cover from Charlie and the tropical rain, when I moved and caught sight of something odd; A football match, I presume…..

Our side was pinned down by Charlie, our advances were sporadic. Charlie was employing Black Ops techniques. Every member of Charlie appeared to be identical apart from the perpetrator of one assault, he was distinguishable by the size of his nose. The Jungle Army tried to raise our side’s spirits with the waving of discarded Vegetation and singing but it was to no avail, Charlie remained resolute.

The Jungle army riskily left cover for the second half, so we became the blue and white army again. We did our best but the Druids (Charlie) were still resolute. Now we were free of the jungle canopy it became clear to us how they could remain resolute; they had the connivance of the match officials, or more exactly the help of the officials’ ineptitude. Fortunately Jamie Reed flicked the ball into the goal with his head so the Jungle Army could go wild in celebration. We had a leisurely drink in the clubhouse to celebrate the birth of a new social movement, a movement vital in these harsh economic times.

Famous Bangor City Fans

Number 1

(In an occassional series)

The Author James Joyce

Here we are again, happy as can be……..

Bala Town 2 Bangor City 1

Welsh Premier League

Well this was annoying. Weeks of fervent anticipation and that was it! Everything had been keenly anticipated; the new season, a new ground, Rhyl’s impending implosion. Then we got to Bala.

I’ve seen Bala when it is sunny and let me assure that in those atmospheric conditions it’s so picturesque that even the most erudite of poets are left speachless trying to describe its beauty. However that was a few months prior to today. Just after we had arrived the magnificent Snowdownian peaks were covered by mist and  a thin, breeze-swept and  inconsistent drizzle had begun. It turned out to be the perfect accompaniment to this slow puncture of a match.

It all started well, the kit looked new and the players looked up for it. Then Bala earned a penalty somehow. Bangor tried to score after this but couldn’t; we had a few corners and Les hit the bar. The other main detail from the first half was a nasty foul committed by one of the Jefferies. He only came away with a yellow card. Bala didn’t look much trouble, we’d have ‘em in the second half .

We did nearly have ‘em too. We gained the second dodgy penalty of the match; Stotty scored it. Surely we’d win now! Then Bala scored again. Dick the pessimist drew attention to the fact we might concede from a corner roughly 2 minutes before, curses.

The blue massive tried to suck the ball in but that was impossible, plus we’d have been kicked out and banned for encroaching onto the field of play.  Unfortunately we didn’t get another goal but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Someone nearly scored, I missed who thanks to a conversation, but their long range shot, bound for the top corner, was energetically and aesthetically tipped over the bar.

So there we were; stuck in Bala’s car park, hemmed in by the other cars, damp from the drizzle and distraught. We’d already lost the league and it was only the first game. We were bottom and 2/3 of the teams hadn’t even played yet. Powell Out!!!!

One Born Every Minute!

“We” Love Andy Gray. “We” Love the Super Tuesdays and the Grand Slam Thursdays. “We” love that idiot reporter with the moustache. But what do ”We” love the most? The hike up to Sunderland on a Monday night? The elevation of footballers into celestial beings? The GDP of sub-Saharan Africa being used to pay for it all? 

If ”We” had to plump for something you’d have to say that “We” love paying for it all to help “Us” make obscene amounts of money.

 

A New Face!

We have decided, after months of torment and anguish, to cover the “Blessed Premiership” in all its glory. We have chosen a special correspondent to bring you up-to-date and incisive opinion. This marks a major step forward in north Walian football related reportage and we are lucky to have him. Ladies and Gentlemen I bring you …….Kevin Price!!

 

Hello everybody!!! Welcome to my new column!!!

My name is Kevin Price but you may call me Kev. As a long-time associate of the Llandudno Jet Set it gives me great pleasure to finally take my place in their golden group. It has only taken years of gentle persuasion to gain acceptance but here I am, finally!

I am Kev and I am a fan of Manchester United. Well fan doesn’t really cover it, as I say in my facebook profile United is a religion, so you could say that I’m more of a devotee of Sir Alex. Even though I’m from Llandudno I’ve been going since I was 10 so it is in my blood. The amount of games I’ve been to is amazing, I’ve seen them all; Brian McClair, Mark Hughes, Clayton Blackmore, Ole Gunnar, Deiniol Graham. Some might say that people like me are just glory hunters but I’m not. Why should I support a local team? I already support one and as they say, you can change anything apart from your football team. You could even say that people like me are more of a fan than people who live closer to the Thestre of Dreams as we have to make more of an effort to go.

So here we are, another season, how are we going to do? Well anything less than League and European Cup and I’ll be disappointed, the FA Cup doesn’t matter, as for the League Cup it was nice when we were kids but its pointless now. I don’t care if we have lost Ronaldo because we’ve signed a class goal scorer in Michael Owen. You should hear my bitter Scouser mates; they’re all secretly gutted he’s finally joined a proper club. As for those Scousers, they’ll probably bottle it again if they get close. It’ll be just like they say on Sky Sports and in the Sun. Then we’ll break their record, I can’t wait. Who do I see as challengers? The usual mob could be or maybe even the bitter Sky Blues of Citeh.

Every Season is another chance to remind the Scousers who’s boss. I hate Scousers. They’re always living in the past and none of their fans are from Liverpool. (Have you ever seen an interview on Sky Sports News, they’re all Irish!) Every time I see them in Club 147 it’s always great to wind them up, sometimes I turn up just to cheer on the team Liverpool are playing. The bitter Scousers can’t take it but I love winding them up, it’s almost as much fun as watching United.

Of course pre-season wouldn’t be pre-season without a new kit. As usual I was first in Llandudno to get one. It’s great to be the first person in the shirt, walking down the street with everyone looking, you feel ten feet tall. You feel somebody for a couple of hours, only United can make you feel like that!

Anyway, good luck for the Season!

Kev

(Due to contract negotiations we are unsure as to the regularity of this column)

Blank Saturday Number 9

Fun Activity; Same again

How and why did the universe begin? Is time travel physically or logically possible? What’s the point of living? why are we here? Are we descended from Apes? Could a computer have a mind? What is death and why should we fear it? Are we alone in the universe? Are moral values relative or absolute? How do we decide between right and wrong? Can we prove that God exists or not? What is the source of human thought, where does it come from? What is the point of Kelvin Mckenzie? If time isn’t elastic why is the season taking so long to come around?

Rating;………….????

Top Tip; When is the season starting? When, when, when?

Blank Saturday Number 8

Fun Activity; Much like last week

Can an atheist get insurance against acts of god? What if there were no hypothetical questions?  Is there another word for synonym?  What was the best thing before sliced bread?  Can you get cornered in a round room? How far east can you go before you’re heading west? Why is Tim Lovejoy still working for the BBC? Why, why why………….

Rating; errrrm 2/5

Top Tip; errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrm

Blank Saturday Number 7

Fun Activity; Being Bored

It was great, nothing to do. Why is most Television a load of rubbish? What the hell happened to Jeremy Spake? Why does the  quickly the grass on football pitches grow so quickly? Does it grow more quickly than human hair, however? Are Policemen getting younger or am I getting older? Jesus, Jamie Carragher’s younger than me! Weren’t Marathons bigger than this before? Why can’t you get Gypsy Creams any more? Why are some DVD cover black and some clear? It makes your shelving look untidy………………..

Rating; I dunno 3/5

Top Tip; Find nothing to do