Bangor City 1 Neath 2
Welsh Premier League
Well that’s the home record gone.
During the first half the match proceeded in the usual manner – Bangor scored and looked comfortable.
The match took a decidedly unpleasant second half turn when Neath equalized and Lee Trundle scored another. We all thought that the usual Bangor fightback would happen but it didn’t.
Neath celebrated as if they had just won a place in the Eurovision song contest, as though they’d somehow deserved the win. This wasn’t a feeling shared by the blue army intellectuals.
Llanelli 2 Bangor City 2
Welsh Premier League
This day started like a day upon which the love of football is built; A journey to unchartered parts that’s poised with tantalisingly wonderful possibilities. I love the differing sights and smells of unchartered parts, especially when it’s coupled with the prospect of continuing our fantastic season.
Even though the road south was long and winding the intellectual moidering smoothed our passage until our refreshment stop on the other side of Aberystwyth. As we left the casual café manager casually asked; “On the way to the rugby are we?”. So little idea, so little idea.
Thanks to satellite navigation our journey had an ETA but the Tom Tom can’t deal with country traffic so we arrived at the outskirts of Llanelli a full 10 minutes after we should have. The Tom Tom made up for itself by navigating us around the vaguely familiar roads of Llanelli. It’s lucky we had some help as Stebonheath Park creeps up on you suddenly.
Just before we found the clubhouse Smithy walked past and told us he was injured. We didn’t worry unduly as Oldfield looks an able replacement.
The clubhouse was welcoming and the female steward was not only friendly but trusting, she actually believed me when I told I’d paid. I’ll bet she doesn’t work for Virgin trains in real life. The clubhouse was half-filled by the blue army from all corners of Britain. The good thing about away trips such as this is that everybody is greeted like an adventurer. I left the clubhouse earlier than the rest to create our flag display.
The match was dull but the stewards were jumpy. We couldn’t stand behind the goal as their insurance wouldn’t cover it, we couldn’t swear because nobody does in south Wales, we couldn’t even commit our usual ritual sacrifice to the sun god. You can tell when the match is less than action-packed; the home crowd’s comments become strangely interesting . Today we couldn’t work out what they were chanting. Was it “Reds”? Or “United”? Or “City”?
The blue army intellectuals were subdued – Bangor only created what could be loosely-termed “One Eighth chances” whereas Llanelli created proper half chances. Peter Hoy football genius launched himself at Llanelli player, but this is almost de rigeur so we didn’t worry. People texted the blue army to tell us that he was lucky to escape a red card. Texting is vital to the fan at a televised match, without texts you are not able to know if you have been seen on TV taking a photo. The game was goaless at half time.
The game continued without goals for a lot of the second half but there was a big difference between the halves; Bangor looked better than Llanelli in the second half. We created a bit of pressure and a few chances but the cutting edge was still slightly blunt. As the match progressed a goal seemed less and less likely to happen.
I made peace with the idea of losing points, I was serene, we could afford one slip, couldn’t we? Then some tosser of a Llanelli substitute decided to call a blue army intellectual “Wanker”. What is it with blonde players from south Wales? That’s the second game in a row that this has happened. What a twat!
In the 70th minutes Les rose to head the ball in, joy was ours!! The joy was increased when Garside knocked a second goal in, we were there, on top of the world, on top of the world and elated!!
Needless to say Llanelli had to spoil our happiness by scoring but thankfully, time was running out!! Llanelli’s captain eased our worries by talking himself into a last-minute red card. Happy Days!!! We were there, that post-match pint was going to taste sweet!! The fourth official indicated there will be a minimum of 4 minutes injury time. Wait a minute, 4 minutes!!
Never mind the first one minute passed, then we were on the attack. Then two minutes had passed. We just had to keep the ball!!
As we seemed to have reached the last minute of injury time retrieving the flag display seemed to be a good idea. As I was collected the flags, Llanelli attacked and Oldfield miskicked the ball. Never mind, I thought, we just need to clear the corner. Limbo’s shout of “”Jesus, we’re in the sixth minute of injury time!!” at the ref bothered me, 6 minutes!!! Never mind we just need to clear the ball……
We didn’t clear the ball and Rhys Griffiths headed the ball home.
I felt I had brought this on us all by untying flags, curse me!!
I was distraught, all I could do was shout at fucking Llanelli’s fucking players. My two line critique was rejoined by some idiot in a cap. “Well it’s your own fault for cheating”” as if helping XXX XXX XXXXXX was a good thing to do.
We may have travelled in hope but the first hour of the return journey featured four emotionally shattered men. We stopped off in a village called Llanybydder to watch the rugby. The village may have appeared from the mist but it brought back my spirits. We were going to have XXX XXX XXXXXX!!!
XXX XXX XXXXXX X Bangor City 2
Welsh Premier League
A match happened this afternoon.
Bangor City 2 Port Talbot 2
Welsh Premier League
This match was one of those frustrating ones. At first it didn’t look like it was going to be but they never do, do they?
Bangor scored first, all was well, even though we’d heard that XXX XXX XXXXXX were winning 1-0. In this equation of a season’s end we needed them to slip up. Then Port Talbot equalised but no-one worried much, we had the second half was in front of us, all was rosy, even though XXX XXX XXXXXX were still winning.
The second half duly started and Bangor’s second goal duly arrived. Now we heard that XXX XXX XXXXXX were drawing, what great news!! It was enough to give us giddiness. Then we heard XXX XXX XXXXXX were losing 2-1. The giddiness became infectious.
The good news was just as well – Bangor didn’t seem to be trying as hard as they could to score a third goal. Although this was a little unsettling we were cushioned by the fact that XXX XXX XXXXXX were losing. Even when we heard about XXX XXX XXXXXX equaliser this news didn’t dampen spirits. I tried to enjoy the rest of the match that Bangor were winning. All we had to do was keep the scoreline the same and we’d be five points clear, all we had to do was hold out…..
Port Talbot scored an injury time equaliser.
I felt as bad as I did on the way back from Llanelli.
Football, you heartless fiend!!!!!
Update – 3 points ahead of XXX XXX XXXXXX but played one more match. We can still win we just need to win all our games.
Wales 0 England 2
Euro 2012 Qualifier
I knew our chance had gone on Thursday when it was announced that Gareth Bale was injured. He was the one player that could scare England.
With my expectations altered the only hopes I had on the way to Cardiff were that the EDL’s Chester chapter wouldn’t get on the train. Thankfully there was no sign of the EDL didn’t but unfortunately a pensioner of the little-Englander persuasion sat next to me. Despite her interest in football – “I’m not a Capello fan!!” – I couldn’t stop the right-wing claptrap indefinitely, the Union-bashing had commenced by the time we reached Wrexham. Luckily she and her husband got off at Chirk.
The next annoying visitors to our carriage were some caricatures. They obviously thought themselves avid casuals as they wore their labels proudly. Unfortunately their labels were so last century, tsk tsk lads. They may have been a moody retro firm but they seemed more “Football Casual at Next” than anything else, very uncool lads, very uncool.
Anyway they didn’t let this put them off their game, the top boy of this tasty little firm strutted up and down our carriage like a moody geezer. This meant one of two things; he was either displaying what Psychologists would call “display behaviour” or he really wanted some cheddars from the buffet trolley. In truth, even in his fake Aquascutum scarf and his jarg Stone Island jacket (with goggles in the hood) he looked about as threatening as a soggy sandwich from the Shrewsbury’s buffet. Actually the sandwich could give someone food poisoning so it could be regarded as more dangerous. They got off in Cwmbran, probably for a meet with Cwmbran’s under 56s.
From about Shrewsbury onwards the guard kept repeating the information that Cardiff station was dry today and it was a relief to hear the weather was nice. He continually advised those with drink that they should drink it by Newport, as if downing 4 cans of Lager between Hereford and Newport (about an hour) is an eminently more sensible solution that allowing people to drink them leisurly in Cardiff. (Or even save them.)
The sifting system used in Cardiff’s staion worked beautifully, we were into Cardiff’s street in the bargain time of 5 minutes. I asked a policemen where the England fans would be; “By the Great Western….” said the boy in blue. The Great Western would be avoided. I walked around Cardiff to kill time before I met Les and the others in the Mochyn Du, England fans were everywhere, as is their want.
If you think England fans are all beer-swilling xenophobic geezers think again, there are loads of student-esque types slumming it in their ironic chinos, boat shoes and twatty haircuts. When I was at Uni you knew where you where, football fans looked like football fans. Nowadays everybody seems to be too busy trying to prove how intelligently ironic they are with their ready-made “Student by Top Man” look. Why don’t you all fuck off? You’ve ruined music with your shit, you’ve ruined television with your shit, now you lot have discovered “the footy”, leave something for the rest of us. I don’t care if you’ve brought your own flags with you either.
The Mochyn Du was very pleasant and I was served by the best barman in the world (he only need to hear an order once and he remembered the order in which people came to the bar.) Just after we left we could hear “them” in the distance, they were serenading their medieval monarchy.
As we got closer more of their bad-natured moronic noise was audible. Call me weird but I’m not sure the world still needs to hear how many German bombs the RAF from England shot down. I certainly don’t need to be reminded of this information, I don’t need to see any more people dressed as St. George telling how they would never surrender to the IRA either. Studenty tossers, drunk geezers and xenophobes what a charming combination the travelling England fans present!!!
Thankfully, for my temper, I was meeting an intellectual outside the City Arms. Ian needed my spare ticket and I was only too glad to let him have it. To say that there had been a bit of a cock-up with the tickets for this match was an understatement. Some clubs had received fewer tickets than they expected, some had received none, even fans that go to nearly every away game, like Ian, had missed out.
Thanks to the queues and the cold, cold cider we took our seats just before kick off. Our seats were in the third row of the bottom tier and I’d never been in this tier. Our seats seemed to be in a fairly odd position as we were shielded from the booing of the Welsh anthem. Thankfully for the rest of the match their songs were also muffled into an annoying hum.
The match was poised delicately just after kick off and it would remain like this for roughly 5 minutes. This was the moment when England were awarded a penalty. They doubled this lead by the time 15 miunutes had passed. As I remarked to Ian, we still had 5/6 of the match to play.
Our position presented us with a very odd perspective. If we were so inclined, we were close enough to Ashley Cole and John Terry to throw the contents of our plastic glasses over them but none of the people in our row (all Bangor fans) together) could see what was happening on the other side of the pitch. At least the moronic English were muffled!!!
The match virtually passed me by, England were just better and Aaron Ramsey, Wales’ great hope, couldn’t make headway. The absence of Bale meant that there was no player capable of running with the ball and creating a bit of excitement. Luckily Ian provided nice chat. The second half of the match happened but I struggle to remember any incidents of note.
I left Ian with kind regards and found the queues outside the station, the sifting system remained very efficient. I was due to meet Dafydd in the station but I couldn’t find him so I just got on the train. It wasn’t full. I finally found Dafydd on the platform at Shrewsbury. With a fellow intellectual beside me the time passed rather more quickly. Incidentally, the Chester fan from Llanerchymedd also go on the train at Chester. I hadn’t seen him since the last time I’d been to a Welsh qualifier on a Saturday. I thought this seemed very odd.
Llandudno Town 2 Rhyl 1
Huws Gray Cymru Alliance
The mighty have fallen with a big bump here, it must be difficult for their fans to take and it’s quite poignant really but that’s football folks. A bloke wearing yellow boots scored the winner, the shame, the shame!!
Bangor City 1 Prestatyn Town 2
Welsh Premier League
Quite simply, this was the most annoying match I have seen this season.
Peter Hoy Football Genius was deservedly sent off early in the match, the Prestatyn players crowded around him to amplify the effect of the brouhaha. Prestayn went two nil up, some might say this was against the run of play but never mind. Bangor pulled a goal back but Dave Hayes, Presatyn’s captain decided to hold the ball, a melee ensued. Prestatyn’s players crowded around the melee to amplify the effect of the brouhaha. Bangor failed to score another goal in the second half even though there was almost constant pressure. Amazingly Prestatyn had a third goal disallowed even though the ball looked like it had crossed the line.
The main incidents were one thing but the approach of the Prestatyn team was another. Even though XXX XXX XXXXXX reperesent the devil incarnate they try to play football. XXX XXX XXXXXX do not cynically manipulate everything, they don’t crowd around opponents, they don’t make brutal challenges and then complain when the other team does likewise………………
I don’t care any more.
You can stick football up your rear end as far as I’m concerned.
Update – We’re now relying on other team to stop XXX XXX XXXXXX going further ahead, Jesus Christ…………………