The Football tourist

Sunday 8th January 2023: FA Cup 3rd Round: Etihad Stadium: Manchester City vs Chelsea

The FA Cup 3rd round is always a historic weekend of football and this season is just so happened to coincide with my first weekend in my new city of Manchester. The Etihad Stadium is just a short jaunt down the road from my new abode. Thus as the draw was made I was keeping an eye on just what potential banana skin would be thrown City’s way and what lower league team did they get drawn against… Oh, just Graham Potter’s Chelsea.

So on my first weekend in Manchester I had lucked out with a toe-to-toe tussle between two Premier League heavyweights right on my doorstep. I thought I was in for the highest quality, end-to-end confrontations for the purist that I could ever hope to witness. I couldn’t have been any more hopelessly naïve.

Sure Chelsea were fielding a rotated team; with N’golo Kante, Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang, Christian Pulisic, Ruben Loftus-Cheek, Edouard Mendy, Raheem Sterling and Reece James all omitted from the matchday squad (most for injury reasons). Even so it was shocking and embarrassing, for the Londoners, just how easily a City side without Erling Haaland or Kevin De Bruyne brushed them aside.

This match took place just 3 days after City had beat the visitors 1-0 in the league down in London and I thought Chelsea would be out for revenge and would really take the game to their hosts. However, from the first whistle it was City tore out of the traps, shoving Chelsea firmly onto the back foot and then the hosts ensured their visitors stayed there for the rest of the 90 minutes.

The match began so badly for the visitors that when they managed to get a touch after 5 minutes had already elapsed, they chose to use it to time waste. Surely that was intended to break up City’s rhythm and give them a chance to formulate a plan of how to get a foothold in the game. It didn’t work.

At the very least it gave Chelsea none of the initiative and did nothing to loosen City’s iron grip on possession. Chelsea’s timewasting had seemed to make City a little reluctant to bring the ball out of their back line though. As such Chelsea were allowed to maintain parity with their hosts for a full 23 minutes, before Riyad Mahrez shattered that illusion with a sumptuous freekick over the wall and into the top right postage stamp.

Now with the lead on the scoresheet and with Chelsea’s defensive wall crumbled to pieces City had doubled their lead before the half hour mark. They were slightly helped out by VAR gifting them a penalty for handball, from an incident that I couldn’t see properly from my vantage point high up at the other end of the ground. Julian Alvarez stepped up to slide the ball under the dive of Kepa Arrizabalaga launching himself to his right. The keeper did get a glove on it, but his wrists were weak and the ball slipped through it and into the net.

Gifting City a two-goal lead was a questionable call from Potter’s visitors as they tend to simply accelerate away from you at that point. So it proved to be here as Foden added the host’s third a full seven minutes before half time. This triggered a flood of away fans out of their seats and onto the concourse for an early half-time drink.

I was surprised to see that many of them actually returned for the second half as by this point the match was over as a contest. City could now look forward to the Fourth Round, but before that there was still 45 minutes of this victory parade for them to enjoy.

One person who had distinctly not enjoyed that first half was Chelsea manager Graham Potter, who sent his team out early for the second half with two changes to their beleaguered personnel. Mateo Kovacic and Kai Havertz were removed from the field, with Denis Zakaria and Wesley Fofana being sent on as the twin silver bullets to resurrect their team’s hopes of a result. The silver bullets failed spectacularly.

There were a few green shoots of hope in the early exchanges of the half, particularly when their first attack in forever saw Rodri pick up the first yellow of the match in the 55th minute. Those green shoots were decisively pruned by a double City substitution just before the hour mark. Rodri was taken off to protect him for the next round, Sergio Gomez joined him in making way for Kalvin Phillips and Joao Cancelo.

From this point onwards the game devolved into a monotonous groundhog day. City hogged possession and pinned Chelsea back into their penalty area without ever threatening to get the scoresheet ticking over again. The turgidity of the fare on offer could have sent any insomniac into a coma so deep they would sleep through a nuclear war.

The visitors were last season’s beaten finalists in both domestic cups, but this was the performance of a team on the brink of collapse. Sure you play in blue Chelsea, but you’re not in Everton’s position yet. Despite the dreadful attacking play from both team, Guardiola point blank refused to bring on either Haaland or DeBruyne to spice things up. I fully understand not risking your best players in a tie you’ve already decisively won, but the match was crying out for the invention and forward thinking brilliance they can provide.

Despite both teams having gone to the beach long ago, there was one last tick over of the scoreline 6 minutes from the final whistle. Don’t get too excited, it’s not a goal from some gloriously incisive open play, it’s just another City penalty. A Chelsea defender bundled an attacker going nowhere to the turf and Riyad Mahrez had the chance to add his team’s fourth goal from 12 yards. He made no mistake, slipping the ball under Kepa’s despairing dive.

That was the last notable act of a game that saw Chelsea dumped out of a competition they have reached the final of 5 times in the last 6 seasons at the first time of asking this season.

For their part City’s reward for destroying Chelsea was a home draw against Premier League leaders Arsenal in the 4th round. Since that was also on my doorstep I decided it would be rude not to go to that game too.

So less than 3 weeks later I was back at the Etihad to see who won that actual high-quality end-to-end confrontation for the purists.

Losing 5-2 at home is enough to knock any team’s confidence. So to be facing your fiercest domestic rivals, where the hatred is visceral, in the same stadium just 12 days later ought to end awfully. Just one problem with that though, no-one told Liverpool.

They’re always at their best when no-one gives them a hope in hell of getting a result, I learnt that back on 25th May 2005. Now the world has seen that never-say-die attitude in full force once again.

Facing a United team on the back of some incredible form, unbeaten since 22nd January, the scousers tore them to shreds. Sure it took the Reds 43 minutes to take the lead but that was just how long it took to translate their dominance from pitch to scoresheet. Once they had the lead they didn’t let up, they became the team they were last season and blew they opponents away.

The match ended 7-0 to the hosts. Along with bragging rights over their rivals, this result also gives their fans hope that the return to the behemoth that came just 2 games away from quadruple immortality may not be as far away as they feared. In even better news, both Nunez and Gakpo secured braces so at least the future looks secure.

AFC Bournemouth, glued to the bottom of the table, are the next opponents for Klopp’s rebuilding reds. To show true progress they need to back-up tonight’s humiliation of their near neighbours with a similarly positive result on the south coast. Secure that and they can head to Mission Impossible: Santiago Bernabéu in 10 days time.

Failure to secure the full 3 points in Hampshire would see this 7-0 relegated to the status of yet another false dawn in a season that has been full of them so far.

The voice of our football childhood passed away peacefully in his sleep last night.

Listening to him describing the action on Match of The Day every Saturday evening, resplendent in his trademark sheepskin coat, was a welcome escape from the world. You heard his voice and knew that your worries were about to melt away in the sea of his encyclopaedic knowledge of the beautiful game.

Thank you for my childhood Mr Motson, I hope you enjoy your eternal rest

So today I woke up ready to catch up on my blog where Potter gets Smashed To Pieces, but then I saw the Champions League scores from last night and Anfield….

This was supposed to be the showdown of the season between the two leviathans of European football. Heck, it was even a repeat of last year final when it was only a virtuoso performance from the keeper in the visitors goal last night that stopped the hosts completing a treble. The hosts were a team that had been two games away from etching their names in immorality with an unprecedented Quadruple last season.

Coming into this season the vast majority of Europe knew that they were the team to beat well not anymore, we’re looking at the score in shock and disbelief.

Yes Real Madrid have an incredible legacy of success at this level with an unrivalled 14 titles from 17 visits to the final, but Liverpool are the most successful English team in Europe. Their 6 titles from 10 final visits is double the titles and final visits of their closest domestic rivals on the list, Manchester United. Plus their record in European fixtures at Anfield, with the crowd roaring them on is fearsome. Not just a fortress where they rip teams to shreds, but also the setting for many an improbable, glorious comeback where victory is ripped from the jaws of certain defeat.

It was in this cauldron of past invincibility that they took the lead within 4 minutes of kick-off, Darwin Nunez finishing off a beautiful team move with an exquisite backheeled flick past Courtois. Things look even rosier for the hosts when they doubled their lead 10 minutes later, Salah taking advantage of a Courtois mistake to rifle the ball home off the outside of his right boot. So Liverpool were now 2-0 up and the game wasn’t even 15 minutes old.

The Liverpool of old, basically any Liverpool team under Shankly, Paisley, Fagan, Dalglish, Benitez or current manager Jurgen Klopp would have run riot from this position and inflicted a humiliating defeat on the team that has robbed them of European glory in 2 of their last 3 final appearances.

This however is not the Liverpool of old and this season they have looked capable of collapsing the second the slightest thing goes wrong. So it would prove to be again last night. It took 7 minutes for Real to get a goal back after going 2-0 down. Then when Vinicius Jr. eradicated their deficit 10 minutes before half time, pouncing on a mistake by Allison to double both his and his team’s tally for the evening, Madrid smelt blood in the water and the hosts crumbled.

It took just 180 seconds of the second half for the Spaniard’s to take the lead and then they secured it with a Benzema brace either side of the hour mark. From going 2 goals down within 15 minutes, at such a difficult stadium to get results, to coming back and inflicting the biggest defeat in their European history on your illustrious hosts, that’s Real Madrid and that’s just how fragile Liverpool are this season.

Last season the scousers were nigh-on untouchable and now their a team everyone knows they can get a result against. Oh how the mighty have fallen and oh how badly they need a refresh across many areas.

This was gonna be there season, they were the team to beat, but not anymore, now they’re looking at the score in shock and disbelief.

Monday 2nd January 2023: Premier League: Gtech Community Stadium: Brentford vs Liverpool

As the calendar ticked over into 2023 I decided to begin my year in church, my football church. Sneaking this visit in at the end of a long festive season of travel, whilst also sorting out a house move, I was perhaps less excited for the visit of the team who had come within 2 games of the quadruple last season.

Though the fact that Liverpool were in abysmal form and no longer a team for anyone to be afraid of may also have contributed to my low excitement levels. Whatever the reason, I took my seat convinced I was about to witness a 0-0 borefest. By the final whistle I had learnt my lesson in humility.

The corresponding confrontation last season was a barnstorming bananza of a game and it didn’t take long for everyone in attendance that this one would be just as good. Sure Brentford were without Ivan Toney, due to an injury niggle, and the visitors were playing a largely second-string team, also injury-forced, but both teams gave it there all from the second the ref blew his whistle.

Liverpool got us underway and immediately attempted to get on the front foot, forcing Zanka to commit a foul on Nunez within 2 minutes. Brentford were giving as good as they got though and, with the match still in it’s first 5, Norgaard rose highest in the area to head the games first clear cut change mere inches over the bar.

An end-to-end battle at 100mph erupted into being with both teams wasting presentable chances before the 10 minute mark, with Roerslev even nipping the ball of the waiting Janelt’s toes to mess up a decent chance at one point. Brentford were however limiting their chances to make intrudes behind the visiting defence by trying too many high balls at just the right height for the twin towers of Van Dijk and Konate to deal with without breaking sweat.

The reds were not without their own profligacy though especially when Nunez was sprung clear in behind the Bee’s backline in the opening exchanges. He did the hard work of taking it round Raya before bulleting it straight into the torso of the single covering defender from 5 yards out. Both teams were creating chances with ease and it was only through sheer dumb luck that the scores remained level for as long as they did. At times the Bees foolish decisions would smash closed a glorious opening whilst at other it was only the swarm of Bees sweeping back that choked out a certain goal for the visitors.

This ridiculous stalemate was finally broken in the 19th minute and I had no idea who scored it. I was too busy celebrating taking the lead and swimming in the deep relief of seeing a VAR referral for a possible handball come back all clear. I would guess that Ben Mee got the final touch, but on later review it turned out to be an own goal by Konate that had garnished the game with the goal it deserved.

Having weathered the storm that followed Bees had the ball in the net again 7 minutes later, but this one wouldn’t count. The linesman’s flag went up instantaneously to burn my elation to a crisp and the VAR review I was anxiously awaiting never arrived. We would have to settle for a 1-0 lead for now, but the visitors were now rattled. They continued to keep the pressure on the hosts though and pinned us back into our own half, until we doubled our lead.

That glorious second came courtesy of Wissa in the 42nd minute, just over a minute after his much more attractive finish had been ruled out for offside in the build up. The 2nd goal that counted was a scruffy ball bundled over the line, but they all count .With a comfortable cushion heading into half-time I expected the Bees to be able to hold-on after the restart, but knew that Liverpool would come at us like a pack of starving wolves at the start of the second half. If we got through that first 10 minutes unscathed I was confident we would keep the 3 points in London.

Klopp dredged his bench for options at half-time and came up with a triple substitutions that bore fruit almost immediately. As expected the visitors tore into the Bees and within 5 minutes their onslaught drew blood. Oxlade-Chamberlain, not one of the subs, got the final touch for the goal. Before that though it was the scousers turn to have a goal chalked off for offside by VAR. Nunez had won a foot race with the defender and flicked the ball into the net past Raya. The Bee’s defence were calling for the flag before the ball even hit the back of the net and they were proven right when VAR concurred with their assessment.

There was no such reprieve when the Ox nodded home at the far post, connecting with a glorious cross from Trent Alexander-Arnold. Raya was left flailing at thin air for that goal and the rest of the Bee’s team were all out of ideas for how to stem the tide. Particularly the tide of Andy Robertson who was constantly tormenting them down the left wing.

Deficit halved and with their tails up Liverpool kept coming at the hosts who were unable to lay a glove on them but they could do everything except score. It took a double sub in the 74th minute for the hosts to regain a proper foothold.

Ten minutes later this foothold had developed into a 3rd goal. We scored 3 against them last season, but this time it was enough for all 3 points. Our third this year came from the boots of Bryan Mbuemo, who has the simple task of sweeping the ball under Alisson, with the grace of a swan, after being picked out by a route one ball curved into his stride.

Brentford were able to see out the final 5 minutes no problem to secure a famous win against a team that had fallen into the abyss of mediocrity. It was their first win over the red scousers since 1938, but in my rush to catch the last train north from Euston I was unable to revel in the glory of the moment.

For my fellow Bee’s fans it must have been glorious to experience this victory and see our team move into 7th, the Europa Conference League position. For myself I hope to feel that pure elation on my next visit to church, for the derby against local high-flying rivals Fulham.

Saturday 11th February 2023: EFL League Two: Crown Oil Arena: Rochdale AFC vs Northampton Town

So I spose I should start by saying that this was my 9th game in just over 5 weeks and I was sick to death of football, like you’d get if you tried to watch every game of the World Cup and did nothing else. Plus Rochdale is not a team that holds any personal draw for me; rooted to the bottom of League Two with a mountain to climb to avoid joining their local rivals, Oldham Athletic, in the depths of non-league football.

Not only do the Dale, 5 points adrift of safety, have a mountain to climb to remain part of the 92 next season but anyone reaching Rochdale by tram or train then has a walk up a mountain to endure to reach the stadium. Rochdale AFC may be rooted at the bottom of the league pyramid but their ground is in the village of Spotland, high on a hill overlooking Rochdale proper.

Rochdale hadn’t won since 29th December 2022 and I had no expectation of them winning this on either. The main reason for that was that their visitors were Northampton Town, sitting pretty in 4th place and just one point below the holy grail of the top 3 that would see them automatically promoted to League One.

The two teams may be headed in opposite directions come the end of the season and in just as contrasting form. Whilst the Dale haven’t won this calendar year, Northampton came into this one with just the singular loss over the same period. From kick-off though it became abundantly clear that the abysmal form of the hosts had rubbed off on the visitors.

It took 15 minutes for either team to threaten the opposition’s goal and to my eternal shock it came from the hosts. A cross from the right was flashed across the 6-yard box and all it needed was the daintiest of touches to deflect it home, but none was forthcoming. That it took so long for either team to credibly threaten an opener was symptomatic of the dire fare on offer.

Most of the time was spent with the teams passing it to each other when they should have been passing it to teammates. Half an hour of this goalless mistake-fest was all it took for me to decide I wasn’t staying for the second half, especially with family coming to visit late that day for the first time since my latest move.

When I left the scores were the same as they had been at the start with not a cat in hell’s chance of changing in the second half, so I felt fully justified in my decision. Opps…

By the time I got off the train back in central Manchester I was able to check the final score and see just how badly wrong my judgement had been. Rochdale took a rare lead in a match just 7 minutes after the restart, only to throw away an historic win by conceding a last minute equaliser. That is the emotional rollercoaster that makes football worth watching and games worth attending. It also would have made a brilliant story for this blog but, thanks to burn out and a belief that the half was a premonition of the whole I missed out on what could have been.

That is why you should never leave a game early and why ‘A Half Is Not The Whole’.

I will be back soon with a blog about one of the January games that I went too. That one I did stay till the final whistle of.

Saturday 21st January: Barrow AFC.

So, with life now back under control after a hectic holiday season, I’m back on the blog. Starting my tsunami of January games slap bang in the middle of the 8, with the game that didn’t happen.

On the direct, scenic train to Barrow you are treated to some of the most breath-taking vistas the Lakes have to offer. Particularly as you pass between lakes on the run into Grange-Over-Sands. However I was unable to enjoy these stunning views as I spent most of the time obsessively checking my phone to ensure Barrow’s game against fellow high fliers Salford City was still going ahead. Games were falling to the axe of postponement all around it and by the time I reached G-O-S this showdown on the edge of the playoffs was one of just 5 games remaining.

By now there were a mere 2 hours till kick-off and, satisfied they wouldn’t touch it this close to the start I relaxed into my seat and drifted off to imagine the atmosphere and just how lucky I had been that my game had avoided the axe. How foolish this was.

I realised my error as my train pulled into Barrow and one of the locals announced, to the hordes pouring off the train, that the game had been cancelled due to a frozen pitch. This revelation was made worse by their assertion that “they could have called it off yesterday, they knew how bad the ground was then”. That would certainly have saved me a day of my life I’ll never get back.

The response to me asking ‘what else is there to do round here?’ was “nothing, better off just getting straight back on the train mate.” I did find a few things to do in the local area to pass the time before my late train home, but nothing to compensate for the football.

Those in charge of fixtures could do everyone a huge favour by employing just a little bit of foresight and giving at least 24 hours notice of cancellations, except for extreme extenuating circumstances. Football fans are people too, give us a little consideration.

I will go back to Barrow for another game in future, but not for the rearranged fixture this caused me to miss. Real life gets in the way of that.

Welcome back and thanks for reading. Back to a football game that actually happened in my next instalment, coming soon….

I have taken an enforced break from my blog over the past few weeks as I move abodes for the third time in 18 months. My new flat is currently without functioning Wi-Fi and looks to be remaining so for the rest of the month.

Once these issues have been fixed the match blogs will be back with a vengeance as I have still been managed to attend games, providing a brief respite from the stress of moving to a new flat in a new city and adjusting to a new job. By the time my Wi-Fi is back up and I can get back to this passion project I will have at least 6 blogs stocked up. If all my plans for the FA Cup 4th round weekend work out it will be 8, but 6 are those that are guaranteed as I write this.

That half dozen include Brentford’s first home game of 2023, both of Manchester City Men’s FA Cup games, Man City Women’s FA Cup 4th round match and a couple of jaunts into the football wilderness of Cumbria for League 2 matches. The extra games in the works would see me travel to both Yorkshire and Derbyshire if I can pull them off.

However many matches I actually get too, I promise you this. The blog will return in February 2023 with at least 6 blogs from January matches. See you then

It is with profound sadness that the world learnt this evening that one of the progenitors of the beautiful game and certainly one of it’s most exquisite exponents, Pele, has passed away.

Edson Arantes do Nascimento, known to the world as Pele, is the giant on whose shoulders every player since he retired stands, and many who took football further. His playing career ended decades before I was born, but from watching tapes of him it is clear that he was the man who took the game of football and made it beautiful.

Exploding into the world consciousness by inspiring Brazil to World Cup victory as a 17year old, he backed this up by carrying them through the defence of their title 4 years later. The only thing that stopped him making it a hat-trick of world cups in 1966 were an inspired England team on home soil.

No matter though as he completed the unprecedented, historic and yet-to-be-matched hat-trick next time out in 1970 as the fulcrum of what many consider to be the greatest team in the history of our sport. The Brazil team that put on an exhibition of just how gorgeous the beautiful game could be, without surrendering the ultimate goal of winning, was stacked with talent but none were greater than Pele.

Thank you for making the game beautiful you immortal genius, RIP Pele.