A continental break

As our Eurostar train emerged from the tunnel English-side on Saturday afternoon my mobile phone signalled an incoming text. It was POSH mate explaining that he was sat in a beer garden, in the warming May sunshine, supping a pint of real ale poured straight from an oak barrel an hour before Peterborough United's final game of the season. Painting a quintessentially English scene the contrast to my couple of days in Paris was quite timely. I was back in Blighty just in time for the Saturday afternoon videprinter. Our family continental break had been planned for sometime; the arrival back on home shores in time to catch the last throws of a fading season was purely coincidental.

The speed at which we can travel nowadays still, at times, takes me by surprise. Yesterday I was eating crêpes with my wife and son on the steps of the Trocadéro overlooking the Eiffel Tour in the morning and then, in a matter of a few hours, I was slumped exhausted at home listening to reports of Nottingham Forest's promotion, Bournemouth's relegation and Fulham's continuing Houdini act. As modes and methods of travel become ever more efficient, the real-time distances between our continental compatriots shrink as Europe gets smaller and smaller. It is quicker and cheaper for me to travel to Paris that it is to Sunderland.

My own continental break in the French capital reminded me of a continental break that England and English fans will be experiencing this summer. Every couple of years, around about now, the nation is gearing up for a major international finals tournament, whether it is a World Cup or European Championship. But England's abject failure in the Euro 2008 qualification tournament means that we will have a summer off this time around.

The trip to Paris brought this fact quickly into focus for me. My mind has been occupied with the FA Cup, with Cardiff City, with Wembley and with other domestic end-of-season matters. The odd reminder of Euro 2008 had failed to take hold of my consciousness and any thoughts about the upcoming tournament had drifted out of my mind as silently and effortlessly as they had drifted in. But in Paris, there are constant reminders everywhere, the most striking of which are the mammoth posters adorning nearly every Métro station. "Les Bleus", the French national team, in full colour, looking down on you in action poses and looking forward to the big summer kick-about taking place in Austria and Switzerland.

At Gare du Nord station in Paris yesterday we shared a café au lait with a Dutch family. Their little girl took a liking to my son and came and sat next to him. Their au pair, after dealing swiftly and quite professionally with the aftermath of a comical, but rather messy, incident involving the little girl and a bottle of Coke, asked for a moments leave from her child-minding duties. She returned five minutes later with no less than five football magazines. She enthused about Netherlands' chances of winning the competition and was genuinely, and visibly, gripped with anticipation for Euro 2008. It was exactly at that moment that I realised, for the first time, that I wasn't.

Now is also the time that the Euro 2008 Panini sticker album will hit the streets. Since my son was born a little over eight years ago, we have fully completed Panini albums for Euros 2000 and 2004 and for the World Cups in both Korea/Japan and Germany. For each of those tournaments, the buying of the album and the collecting of the stickers was an important precursor to the main event, the event that would surely, at long last, see England lift a major trophy. The Panini sticker fest every other year fills that void between season's end and the start of summer tournament football and serves to whet the appetite and crank up the anticipation to popping point.

Always keen to stress that it was my son that was collecting the stickers, I used the feeble excuse to mask the inane sadness of it all. Either that or admit how freaky it is for a forty-something adult male to collect small pictures of footballers. But my son now sees it as it is; an important, necessary and unquestionable augmentation to the preparations for any major tournament.

But the thought of buying a Panini album this time round has only just entered my already full head. The first Euro 2008 game between Switzerland and the Czech Republic is only three weeks after the FA Cup Final, but I have hardly given it a second thought. It is May and I still haven't written all the Euro 2008 fixtures in my diary. How could I be so slack? No doubt England's absence is to blame. No constant reminders in the press. No daily assessments of England's likelihood of failure. No broken metatarsals to report. I shouldn't really be shocked. I will still buy a Euro 2008 Panini album. For my son of course. But not with quite the same verve as I would if England occupied a couple of the album pages.

As evident on my trip to France, and no doubt in the fifteen other competing countries around Europe, pre-tournament frenzy is taking hold and trading in Panini stickers will start to intensify. Fans across the continent will already have snapped up tickets for the tournament which is now sold out and hotel bookings would have been confirmed months ago. Supporters from Portugal, Croatia and Romania will be planning their visits to St Jakob Park, Ernst Happel Stadion and (how could I resist a mention) the Stade de Suisse Wankdorf.

It goes without saying that I will still watch Euro 2008. The anticipation and yearning may not be there now, but come early June I will quite likely find myself rushing home from work to catch Spain versus Russia or foregoing a night out to watch Austria and Poland. Don't ask me why.

So for many English fans, a continental break may well be on the cards this summer. A chance to take the family away without the worry of the awful prospect of being stranded in a foreign departure lounge at the exact moment England slot away that last minute goal which seals their first major trophy win for well over forty years. While England sit this one out, one team's continental break maybe be another family man's blessing in disguise.

Fulham on the edge

I took my son and his friend to Craven Cottage yesterday to see Liverpool collect a comfortable three points against a Fulham team who are clinging on to Premiership survival for dear life. My friend Chopper (author of The Hammy End Chronicle) had got tickets for us and we met him and Chop junior for an afternoon sat in the part of the ground lauded in his blog title.

I always enjoy my trips to Fulham, I can't quite put my finger on why. Maybe it's the character of Craven Cottage, the mix of old and new. Maybe it's the supporters, who always seem good natured, even when losing. Maybe it's the location of the venue, right next to the river. It is probably a combination of all of these things. It is a friendly club, a family friendly club, and I would rather it not be Fulham that get relegated this season.

The problem is, that looks very likely. It has looked likely for some time. But then last week they put in a great performance down the Thames Valley at Reading, a 2-0 win giving them their first away win in thirty four attempts. With Derby already relegated, Fulham are the bookmaker's favourites to join them but the result last week kept the books open for a little longer. But after yesterday's result against Liverpool, and more importantly, the manner of the result, some bookies may decide to no longer take bets.

My journey to Craven Cottage must be one of the most relaxing journeys I have made to a match this season. It started at Weybridge train station listening to a 1940s style swing band on the platform as they entertained a wedding party, all dressed in period costume. My son thought the band were there especially to see us off to the match; I didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. Whistling Glen Miller tunes it was a short trip to Wimbledon for an even shorter hop to Putney Bridge. From there, an extremely picturesque stroll through Bishop's Park, which stretches along the banks of River Thames, to the ground. All very civilised.

By the time we got to the ground, the atmosphere was already building. Liverpool fans had turned out in force and occupied all of the opposite Putney End. And they were in fine voice throughout the game. The game was officially a sell out (the attendance was 25,311) and pre-match the home support were also up for it. Fulham had even provided small pieces of paper in plastic bags under many of the seats in the Hammersmith End which resulted in a fine ticker-tape reception for the emerging teams. This was a must win game for the home side and although the atmosphere was good and the Fulham fans kept the volume up for the best part of the game, it was mixed with a pinch of tension and an unmistakable splash of resignation.

Fulham were unchanged from their win at Reading, Liverpool had made eight changes from their last game. This was an equally important match for Liverpool who are after securing fourth spot, but they fielded an understrength team. No Gerrard. No Torres. No Carragher. With one eye on next week's big European game and the media circus preying on the off-field affairs at the club, Rafa Benitez got it spot on with his squad rotation and his approach to the game.

Both sides started brightly with some good probing wide play; Pennant was a menace for Liverpool and Dempsey made some strong runs for Fulham. Fulham forced a couple of early free kicks in wide positions but the resultant crosses failed to test Reina who was equal to any aerial threat. In front of Reina, Sami Hyppia defended well and started to assert his control. In front of Hyppia, Javier Mascherano had a great game in midfield and managed to nullify the threat posed by Dempsey, Bullard and Davies. The supply line for McBride and Healy was effectively cut off at source and although the two worked their socks off, and for all of Fulham's dominance in spells, they didn't really look like scoring. For his part in this, Mascherano got my vote as man-of-the-match.

Liverpool took the lead on seventeen minutes when Lucas Leiva threaded the ball to Pennant who had found some space inside the Fulham left back, Paul Konchesky. The Liverpool wide man accelerated with ease onto the pass and unleashed a great early shot with flew over Kasey Keller's left shoulder into the net. Keller barely moved. A man surprised. After that goal, Liverpool controlled the game and Fulham were left chasing. The visitors played with a degree of quality, much of the ball on the deck, and totally within themselves. Fulham's play was hurried, tense and at times lacked purpose. The visitors lead by that solitary goal at the break. Fulham went in, heads down; they have not won a game after trailing at half time for three years.

Liverpool's second goal put paid to that statistic being broken. Peter Crouch scored it with twenty minutes remaining. At first, I thought he had shot straight at Keller and it was easily saved. Seeing the fans from Merseyside celebrating at the opposite end it was obvious they had scored, but I couldn't quite work out how. Television replays have since showed that the ball had squirmed through Keller's legs. This was a game the American stopper will quickly want to forget.

Fulham created chances either side of Crouch's effort, the most notable from the head of Dempsey (twice) which failed to hit the target and later in the game a header from Erik Nevland which was saved at point-blank range from Reina, although the assistant referee already had his flag in the air. It was not to be for the home side who managed only four shots on target in ninety minutes. Liverpool were cruising to an all too easy win, Fulham were running out of huff, out of puff and out of ideas.

And, as far as their season goes, running out of time. The Craven Cottage outfit are now five points adrift of safety but have only three games to play. Three wins is a must and although not impossible, it is asking a great deal. Away games at Manchester City and Portsmouth either side of a home game with Birmingham City make it a huge ask. The way Fulham are playing it is even more than that. And I think many Fulham fans have accepted the inevitable.

All the way through the game yesterday, the pitch side hoardings emblazoned with the LG logo of the team sponsor would flash the messages "Life's Good" and "Take It To The Edge". Unfortunately for this welcoming club from SW6, yesterday's result has indeed taken them to the edge. With one foot dangling over, it is looking rather precarious for Fulham.

The Hammy End Chronicle and my breakdown

Today some football tickets turned up on my desk at work. Not the long-awaited tickets that will gain me access to Wembley on Sunday. These have still not arrived and I'm starting to get a little anxious. The tickets that landed on my desk are for a Fulham home game in April, opponents Liverpool.

I mention this as the arrival of the Fulham tickets set me off on a train of thought which, rather worryingly, shows you how my mind works. Or, as it turned out this evening, doesn't work.

First off, I must say I do enjoy trips to Craven Cottage. My son displays a soft spot for Fulham, no doubt fuelled by attendance on Fulham run football courses. Easily bribed and swayed with goodies and cheap tickets to games he is more than willing to fall into Fulham’s welcoming embrace. And the club do this well; they play a big role in the community and children are especially welcomed at matches. In fact, they are actively encouraged through the turnstiles as long as they drag an adult with them.

Secondly, it was my friend Chopper who got the tickets for me. He writes an excellent blog to do with all things Fulham which is entitled The Hammy End Chronicle, named after the part of Craven Cottage we will be sat in for the Liverpool game – The Hammersmith Stand. Do take a look at his blog, it is well worth a browse.

Thirdly, Chopper, not content with writing his Fulham blog, also does a blog of lists. "Top 5" lists to be precise. It is nothing more than a collection of his top five favourites but marvellous in its simplicity. He admits that he is a "list-aholic" and the blog is a truly excellent labour of love and is highly amusing. I like a good list myself; I have already done a few list-based posts on this blog. Favourite goal celebrations. Best football quotes. Most memorable FA Cup semi finals. That sort of thing. Thinking about Chopper's lists in turn got me thinking about the next list I could do on here.

So within a matter of moments I had seen the Fulham v Liverpool tickets, thought about Chopper's Hammy End blog, moved swiftly on to thinking about his blog of lists and then onto giving some thought about a top five list that I could post tonight.

What seemed like a good idea at the time developed into a painful two hours of self-inflicted mind torture. Could I think of a suitable list? Something that was relevant? Witty? Topical? My five favourite...favourite, what? What exactly could I do a list of? My favourite music? My favourite wine? My top five films? Not totally relevant. Or interesting for that matter. My favourite crisps? My least favourite fruit? My chart of cheese? But nothing worked. Nothing that I could tie into Fulham either. My favourite football kits? (Fulham's home kit this season is rather cool). My top grounds? (I do like Craven Cottage). Five reasons to go and watch Fulham? (I could only think of three).

The harder I thought the more stupid the idea. The crazier the idea the harder I had to think. I was caught in a downward spiral. I was getting desperate. I started to pace the room. I shunned any form of conversation with my wife or son, resorting to the odd grunt. This was starting to drive me mad. How difficult is it to come up with a subject for a list? After two hours of total rubbish bouncing around my head, I had come up with nothing. Zero. Zilch. Not a sausage. Not even a list of my favourite sausages. I was stumped.

So there you have it. I have failed. I haven't done a list. Maybe one has to be in the right mood to do a list. Maybe I'm just too tired. Maybe I have writer's block. Maybe I'll never be able to write again. Maybe that's it, I'll no longer be able to function. Good grief, maybe I'm having a breakdown.

So whilst I have my breakdown please, in the meantime, go and have a look at the lists produced by the list-meister himself. Chopper's blog is called Chop's Top Fives.

One thing is for sure though, having spent so much time trying to think of a suitable list to publish tonight, I had completely forgotten about the fact that my Wembley tickets have not yet arrived.

Up until now that is.

Six of the best

I have always felt that FA Cup semi final day is one of the best days in the football calendar. For me there is so much excitement surrounding the semis, not only for fans of the four clubs involved, but also for neutrals. There is so much at stake, only one tie away from an FA Cup final appearance, and everything that comes with that. The nerves, the anticipation, the thrill, the excitement, the nail biting, the joy and the sorrow. A whole raft of emotions. For me, some of the best and most memorable games of football I have seen or listened to have been at this stage in the competition.

In an earlier post I bemoaned the choice of a Wembley venue for this season's FA Cup semis. But now I have to hold my hand up and admit that, as things have turned out in what has been a quite remarkable competition, I have had a slight change of heart. I can now accept that a visit to Wembley for all four clubs still involved is a marvellous thing. I cannot begrudge the supporters from Barnsley, Cardiff, Portsmouth or West Brom their big day out. Not in the slightest.

Of course, (the old) Wembley has hosted semi finals before. The first semi to be held there was in 1991, when Arsenal lost 3-1 to Tottenham Hotspur and we witnessed that quality Paul Gascoigne free kick. The FA Cup semi finals have traditionally been held on neutral venues - Villa Park holding a staggering 55 of them - and up until the late nineties drawn games would have to be replayed. This is no longer the case - both games in just over a week will be decided on the day with extra-time and penalties. The last game to go to a replay was the classic Manchester United and Arsenal encounter in 1999.

And it is that game that kicks-off my "six of the best". My most memorable FA Cup semi finals, in no particular order...

1999 ~ Manchester United v Arsenal (replay at Villa Park)

The first tie ended 0-0, but was still a good game. Nelson Vivas had been sent off for Arsenal and Roy Keane had been denied a late winner for Manchester United after a close offside call. But the replay just about had it all. A trademark Beckham effort from twenty yards gave Manchester United the lead and set up a pulsating, end-to-end game. With twenty minutes to go Arsenal equalised when Bergkamp scored with a deflected shot off his Dutch compatriot Japp Stam. Sixteen minutes left, Roy Keane was sent off and the game swung towards Arsenal. Their dominance paid off with a penalty awarded in injury time. Up stepped Bergkamp but his penalty lacked any sort of pace and the huge Peter Schmeichal guided the ball around the post. Extra-time and the game was on a knife edge. Then on 109 minutes, one of the most magnificent FA Cup moments in the history of the competition. Ryan Giggs intercepted a sloppy Vieira pass in his own half and, at full steam, ran straight at the heart of the Arsenal defence. He weaved through the whole of the Arsenal rearguard before shooting high into Seaman's net. Absolute quality. Voted as the best FA Cup goal ever, the only downside was the sight of Giggs' hairy chest.

1975 ~ Fulham v Birmingham City (replay at Maine Road)

This has to be one of my earliest FA Cup memories. The game itself was not a classic, but I never forget the occasion. The first game had finished 1-1 at Hillsborough. Fulham were by far the underdogs and it felt at the time that the whole country (apart from Birmingham) were rooting for Fulham. It is the replay that sticks in my mind. I was on a school trip and remember listening to the second game on the radio on a coach. I couldn't even tell you now where we were or where we were going to or coming from. All I remember is that all the teachers and children were transfixed with the commentary being transmitted from the Maine Road replay. The young striker John Mitchell nudged Fulham into the final with the game's only goal in the dying seconds. When that goal went in the coach load of children erupted with joy. I was 11 years old. A bunch of kids from the North going crazy on a coach because the underdogs from London had done it. The beauty of the FA Cup. I remember that day so vividly it feels like only yesterday.

1990 ~ Manchester United v Oldham Athletic (at Maine Road)
and Crystal Palace v Liverpool (at Villa Park)

I watched both these games on TV. Two fantastic matches on the same day.

Oldham, with their artificial home surface, had already eliminated the likes of Everton and Aston Villa but were not expected to offer much against the favourites Manchester United. Goals from Earl Barrett, Ian Marshall and Roger Palmer put the Latics within touching distance of Wembley. The underdogs refused to lie down and Palmer's equaliser came late in extra-time. The replay (also at Maine Road) ended with a 2-1 extra-time heart break for Oldham. The Latics still managed to get to Wembley that year, losing 1-0 to Nottingham Forest in the League Cup final.

Under normal circumstances, that 3-3 thriller would have been the game of the 1989-1990 FA Cup. But up next was an even more thrilling match between Crystal Palace and Liverpool. Earlier in the season, the league game at Anfield had finished Liverpool 9, Crystal Palace 0. At half-time in the semi, Palace (who were missing the broken legged Ian Wright) were trailing 1-0 to an Ian Rush goal. Liverpool remained hot favourites to reach the final, but in best FA Cup tradition, Palace had other plans. After the restart, Mark Bright shot Palace level and all of a sudden Liverpool looked rattled. Gary O'Reilly then edged the London team in front. Liverpool upped their game and equalised on 81 minutes with a goal from Steve McMahon. Two minutes later Liverpool were back in control and seemingly going through when John Barnes slotted home from the penalty spot. But in a breathless climax to the game, and against all the odds, Andy Gray levelled with a header. The first half of extra-time passed without incident, both teams recovering from an enthralling first 90 minutes. Four minutes into the second period of extra-time, Palace were catapulted into dreamland. A training ground set piece delivered the reward. A corner from Gray, flicked on at the near post by Andy Thorn and Alan Pardew arrived unmarked at the far post to send Crystal Palace to Wembley. This was a huge moment for Palace. They had never played at Wembley before. They had never reached an FA cup final before. At the end of the game, a massive Palace banner read "Thank you God, I can now die in peace".

That season, the FA Cup belonged to Oldham and Crystal Palace, although neither team won it.

1995 ~ Everton v Tottenham Hotspur (at Elland Road)

I have to include this one, simply because it made me laugh so much. It still does. This is the season that had started with financial irregularities unearthed at White Hart Lane. Spurs were given a £600,000 fine, docked twelve league points and banned from the FA Cup. After appeal, the points reduction was lowered to six, the fine increased to £1.5 million and the FA Cup ban remained. The case went to arbitration and by the time the draw for the Third Round took place, the matter had not been resolved. Altrincham came out of the hat to face "Bye or Tottenham Hotspur". The FA eventually backed down, and Tottenham were reinstated. Tottenham fans were duly convinced that this was going to be their FA Cup winning season. But in the semi at Elland Road, it was Everton who triumphed. Everton were struggling to hold onto a 2-1 lead with twenty minutes remaining when the Everton boss, Joe Royle, decided to make a substitution believing that Paul Rideout was injured. By the time Rideout had signalled to the bench that he was fit to carry on, Royle had sent on Daniel Amokachi. The Nigerian scored two goals as Everton ran out 4-1 winners, much to the dismay of the Tottenham fans. Royle explained "what a good mistake" he had made. I laughed so much I almost cried.

1997 ~ Middlesbrough v Chesterfield (at Old Trafford)

Another 3-3 semi final classic. Middlesbrough would go on to win the tie in a replay at Hillsborough (3-0), but the first game at Old Trafford was the one to savour. This really was a glorious FA Cup spectacle. This game swung from one team to the other, there were plenty of goals and lots of incident. It will be remembered most though for a mistake by the referee, David Elleray. Chesterfield sprinted into an early two goal lead, Andy Roberts and Saun Dyche the scorers, the latter from the spot. Ravenelli pulled one back but then in the second half the top-flight team had Vladimir Kinder sent off. Chesterfield were by now hitting Middlesbrough on the break and it was this route that brought about the game's big talking point. On the counter attack, a shot from Jon Howard smashed off the cross bar and landed a good two feet behind the goal line. 3-1 to the Spireites and the underdogs had clinched it. Except they hadn't. David Elleray disallowed the goal for an infringement in the area. TV replays provided no evidence of a foul. Hignett went on to equalise for Middlesbrough with a disputed penalty. Gianluca Festa put 'Boro in front only for Chesterfield to pull level in the dying seconds with a diving header from Jamie Hewitt. Unbelievable stuff. This was Elleray's post match comment about the disallowed goal:

"I wasn't sure whether the linesman was indicating the ball had crossed the goal-line or whether he had spotted the same offence as me...although I can't remember what it was."

At the final whistle, there were mixed emotions from Chesterfield. Their manager, John Duncan, had his glasses knocked off in the celebrations. The moment was captured on TV; perhaps Howard should have offered his glasses to Elleray.

So there you are - my favourite FA Cup semi finals. Both the games on April 6th certainly have a lot to live up to!

Sons, fathers and football

The Middlesbrough tickets arrived yesterday. My son asked if one was for him. With the smallest pang of guilt I had to tell him no. He didn't look overly disappointed. He has no concept of the distance we will have to travel on Sunday. Not the best on long car journeys, my eight year old struggles with the eight minute trip to school so eight hours in the car in a single day would be too much for him. And for me.

My boy loves his football, more so playing than watching. Any father who is in to football takes great pride in seeing his child take up the sport. And many, including myself, can't help live their football lives through their child. It is difficult not to.

My son turned eight only recently. For his birthday he asked for a football shirt. A Tottenham Hotspur shirt. Living so close to London it was inevitable that he would end up supporting a London team. As sure as night follows day, he was never going to support my team. A League One team from up North, my team would always be way outside his radar in terms of geographical location and footballing quality.

An eight year old can be easily influenced. My son went through a stage of supporting the team of whomever he had seen most recently. If we visited friends from near Warrington, Cheshire, he would declare that he now supported Manchester United. If the son from a long-time friend of the family came for a sleepover, Liverpool would be his team of choice. One of his best friends at school supports Chelsea and my son, for a while, would follow suit. When he attends football courses with Fulham they become flavour of the month. From my own football trips he has grown up wearing a number of different football kits, ranging from England (all the white, red and blue variants) to RC Lens and PSV Eindhoven to Barcelona. My son even supported Dartford for a couple of weeks after I took him down to Princes Park on this FA Cup run back in September. And I plan to take him back. Kids of that age are fickle and understandably so. He is eight and following a number different teams is not an issue for him.

He used to tell people that he supported every team except my team.

When I myself was a similar age, I remember making a conscious decision about which football team I was going to support. That was a seminal point in my life. I had a choice of supporting my father's team, Manchester City, or a team that my best friend at school supported. I chose the latter. Only now do I realise how much that must have hurt my father. He used to take me to many games at Maine Road, and I hold dear those memories. My father is still a season ticket holder. If I ever said I never once felt slightly guilty about not choosing to support Manchester City, the team the rest of my family support, I would be lying. I harbour a soft spot for them still.

But I am determined not to influence my own son in anyway. He has to choose himself. But when he asked for a Tottenham shirt it arrived like a bolt out of the blue. Of all the London teams he could have gone for, this was the one I had hoped for least. Fulham, Chelsea, Arsenal, Charlton, Crystal Palace - even Reading. But Tottenham? Just like me a generation ago he was influenced by his best mate. His very best friend at school, who he has probably been friends with longest in his short life, supports Tottenham Hotspur and always has. Poor child.

When he asked for the shirt I was shocked. That initial response quickly gave way to a feeling of sickness - that awful stomach churning sensation that comes with the knowledge that you will have to do something you don't really want to do. Something unpleasant, but unavoidable. When I finally went to buy the shirt I asked the teenager behind the counter for a brown paper bag. She looked at me blankly. I couldn't be bothered to explain.

So now my son has another shirt for his collection. I cannot tell him not to wear it. I cannot refuse to take him to a Tottenham game, if he asks. The only saving grace is that if he becomes a true Tottenham supporter, he won't even want to go to watch them. He'll just sit at home and moan. But whatever happens, whatever football choices he makes now or at any point in the future, I will still love him more than I can ever explain.

I just hope this is a phase he's going through and it will pass. I really, really do.

Newcastle United or Havant & Waterlooville?

I'm sure that some of you will see my title of this post and conclude that I am an idiot. I know some of you think that I am an idiot anyway, but that's not the point.

Why Newcastle United or Havant & Waterlooville? That is not a tie from the FA Cup? As you clued-up souls already know, both clubs play replays this evening; Newcastle entertain Stoke City whilst Havant & Waterlooville host Swansea City. So why join the two in this seemingly dodgy post title?

Well, I haven't (or Havant?) lost it. As I sat down to write a short post this evening, I had every intention of talking about Havant & Waterlooville, the only non-league club left in the FA Cup. A team from the Blue Square Conference South (a sixth tier team in English football) they will be flying the flag for non-league football. I would have repeated the fact that I will miss the non-league involvement in this season's competition, about what this competition means to non-league clubs and to their fans, and I would no doubt have positively drooled at the potential tie awaiting the sole remaining non-league outfit should they see off Swansea tonight. The romance of the FA Cup cannot be summed up any more poignantly than a tie which reads "Liverpool v Havant & Waterlooville" in the Fourth Round.

I even took a quick look at Havant's website just now; there is so much interest in tonight's replay that the site has crashed. Oh dear.

Anyway, back to my point. Having decided I was going to put Havant & Waterlooville's adventure under the microscope, the news filtered through this afternoon about one of the most hotly debated questions for a many a season, that being, who would take over as the manager of Newcastle United?

If you have been anywhere but on the surface of this planet in the last few hours, I probably need to explain that that role has now been filled by Mr Kevin Keegan. If you don't know who he is, you are reading the wrong blog.

I would normally refrain on here from writing about the big football news stories; that was never my intention with this blog. Go to any football website now or to any newspaper tomorrow morning and I don't need to tell you that Keegan's mug shot will be centre page, probably full page, probably front and back page. There is little I need add to the story.

But I couldn't resist this one, a small mention. So I'm sorry Havant & Waterlooville, if you could just step aside for a moment.

If there's one thing I admire most about Keegan it is this; his ability to bring a degree of raw passion to the game. Passion. A word that I have already used in several posts and a word I believe is synonymous with the FA Cup. When Keegan last took over the job of Newcastle manager his passion (and a fair amount of managerial skill) brought about an unbelievable change of fortune for the club. They were flirting with relegation to the third tier of English football; this they avoided with a win on the last day of the season. The following season (1992-93), Keegan's style of attractive football saw Newcastle brush all aside as they walked away with the equivalent of the Championship. In the 1995-96 season Newcastle United came so, so, so close to winning the Premiership, squandering a twelve point Christmas lead to Manchester United. Keegan had converted Newcastle United to a top four club in a little over four seasons.

Newcastle fans call Keegan "The Messiah". His previous achievements make for a tough act to follow and I'm not sure that this is the best, long term appointment for Newcastle. But the Newcastle fans will give him time, something that previous post holders have never had, not least Big Sam. Some "experts" are already calling this a "ludicrous" decision and are accusing the Newcastle owner (Mike Ashley) as being too quick to pander to the demands of the fans, having failed in his attempts to lure Harry Redknapp away from Portsmouth.

But for me, if this means that we get to see a little more real passion in the Premiership, something that has been sparse since that great 1995-96 season, then this appointment gets my vote. Newcastle face Manchester United in February and Liverpool in early March. I'm sure Keegan would "love it, just love it" if they got a result against Sir Alex Ferguson's side. And I wonder what odds you would get for a 4-3 thriller at Anfield?

I've also heard that Chris Coleman, who was with Keegan at Fulham, has today resigned as manager of Real Sociedad. What are the chances of him joining Newcastle as Keegan's number two? If that happens, you heard it here first. If it doesn't, leave me out of it.

The Newcastle fans are ecstatic about Keegan's return. The atmosphere at tonight's FA Cup game against Stoke City should be even more charged than usual.

And there should be a cracking cup atmosphere down at Havant & Waterlooville, but for a different reason. So Newcastle United or Havant & Waterlooville? Well, both really. Passion at both ends of the country. Marvellous.

Sensible money

Well, tomorrow's game has come around rather quickly for me, and I'm looking forward to it. Dartford start the game as favourites, and it looks as if the sensible money will be on the home team. But you never know in the FA Cup.

Camberley Town are planning to take the usual coach for players and staff, plus an extra coach for supporters, so this should boost an already large home crowd. Dartford are more than capable of getting a crowd of over 1000, as opposed to Camberley's average home gate of about 100. I'm still rather surprised that Dartford's attendance in the last round of this competition was the lowest ever at Princes Park, when you also consider it was against a Kent neighbour.

There is a debate going on at Dartford about the reason for the lower crowds in recent games. The consensus is that the youngsters are staying away (even though it is only £1 to get in for children). Dartford estimate that about 100 children no longer attend home games. Add on to that at least one accompanying parent and that is 200 no-shows. Pretty significant at this level.

How a club at this level markets itself, and attempts to attract local support, is critical to the success of the club. Camberley Town only this week have put out the call for ideas on how to attract paying customers, and again there seems to be an emphasis on youth.

But it is difficult these days when the kids have so many other choices. At the Dartford v Sittingbourne game, I lost count of the variety of different shirts that the youngsters were wearing. Chelsea, Charlton, West Ham, Arsenal and (most bizarrely) a Spurs shirt (poor child). The glitz and glamour is only around the corner for many, and the non-league clubs have this to compete against.

My son loves playing football, but he's not over keen on watching the game. He resists any of my attempts to take him to Chertsey Town. He has attended a few Fulham games. He has a variety of different kits (e.g. England, Barcelona, RC Lens, PSV Eindhoven) but no single favourite. He claims to support one of Chelsea, Fulham, Manchester United or Liverpool - depending which friend he saw last. He is only seven years old, and kids are fickle at the best of times. And I do not put any pressure on him to support any one particular team. He will make his own mind up in time, and chances are it will be based on who his friends and peers support.

And I would very much doubt that any of the sensible money would be on him choosing either Chertsey, Sittingbourne, Dartford or Camberley.