Etihad stadium, Manchester

Posted on May 2, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — Leave a comment

I am glad that United had secured the title before I went to the Etihad. I mean, it would have been a bit awkward to sit among City season-ticket holders and desperately want them to loose. As it was, the result didn’t matter, so I was fairly relaxed about the result.
Many United fans wouldn’t set foot in City territory today. And one of my City hosts declare that he wouldn’t be able to see FC United, although they are fascinated by what I tell about the non-stop singing.

Back in the 60’s, it was not uncommon that United fans went to City’s home matches, when United were away, and vice versa. And City and United players were living in digs together, going out for drinks – or like George Best and Mick Summerbee setting up business together. But a religious divide has developed, much due to the media building up tension for matches.

Anyway, I take the newly opened metro-link to the Etihad for the Saturday’s early kick-off. And I confess: I like the stadium complex. The plans were originally part of Manchester’s bid for the 2000 Olympics. That bid having failed, they build it for the 2002 Commonwealth games, and the following year Manchester City moved in.

The complex is more coherent than most. A TV-show is being run around “City square”. TV crews walk around the area, and all around the stadium as well as inside the ground, you can follow the building-up for the match at City Square. The catering is fine – with covered benches, tables and even toilets. You can choose between many different stalls – and although the chips I get with my fish are appalling as well as expensive, the choice is much wider than in most places.

It is bitterly cold, and suddenly the rain lashes down. I regret not having brought my winter jacket and my hat. I seek shelter in the City megastore, where I even contemplate buying a hat, as my ears feel as though they are about to fall off. I walk upstairs and guess that it is here the Manchester City museum used to be. There are City milestones written on the wall along the stairs. But after the new owners took over, City decided to expand their commercial possibilities and close down the museum. It is now an extended area for shirt-printing, signing up for membership and ticket sale.

Perhaps to compensate for this, City have posted giant displays of the major events in their history around the ground – with last season’s title win taking up almost half of it. Again, I am glad that United have taken the title back before I go. I can’t help noticing, how important that title win seems to be for City fans. United are selling shirts with “Champions 20” on the back, celebrating their twentieth title. City supporters are wearing shirts with “Champions 12” on the back. At first I am a bit puzzled, as City have only won three titles, but, of course, they are celebrating winning the league title in 2012 as THE highlight.

Still. I have to admit, the building-up of atmosphere at City square is really good, and I am always taken aback by remembrance gardens like the one they have outside the ground. The thought of having your ashes spread at your favourite football ground and your family laying flowers when they come for a match is appealing, I remember seeing Leicester City fans cry in their memory garden the other night. And as a visiting supporter, you can’t help feeling deep respect.

Speaking of visiting supporters, as I pass the away fans section, I notice that the search of the visiting supporters are the most thorough I have seen so far. One woman does not only have her long hair lifted. Security checks every part of her body and also her boots. And she doesn’t look particularly suspect.

Half an hour before kick-off I enter the ground – and I am even more impressed. My instructions say that I can enter through either turnstile B or K, which are in opposite ends of the ground. I can’t really understand it, until I enter. Instead of the claustrophobic small rooms under different sections of most stands, there is one single, giant, room running under the entire stand! Spacious, apparently with suffient catering and toilet facilities. And through television screens linked up to the City Square. According to one of the City fans, I am visiting, the place is really vibrant for the big matches. I can imagine that.

Also impressive, you don’t have to make your way through passages and stairways to get the final way into the stand. You can actually see the pitch through the many doorways along the walls of the catering room. And above them, they have printed fans’ stories on how and when they became City fans. I really like that, even though a few of them have an anti-United element.

When I go pitch-side, I see all the players and the referee, Howard Webb warming up. At first, I must admit (politically incorrect), I think he is talking to a mascot. But it turns out that it is the female linesman, looking so small beside him.

I had the impression that City were singing their anthem, “Blue Moon”, ahead of kick-off. Well, they don’t today. Perhaps it is the early kick-off, making the atmosphere subdued, perhaps the fact – as the West Ham supports rub in – “You are not champions anymore”. There are also lots of empty seats. As the box office was open outside the ground, I knew that it wasn’t a sell-out, but there seems to be thousands of empty seats. Astonishingly, the attendance is claimed to be only a few hundreds below capacity. I know that you get the same problem with some season ticket holders not turning up at Old Trafford, but I have only once in modern times seen something like this, for the FA cup replay against West Ham in January, when the attendance officially was 5.000 below capacity.

The West Ham fans look a more tightly knitted unit than at Anfield, and seem to be in better voice. They make virtually all the singing or chanting in the first half, although there are a couple of hundred City supporters standing on either side of them, who make a few attempts of getting songs going. But you cannot really hear them.

That is the problem with the stadium. It is light and open and spacious, and you have a good view of the pitch and all the stands except the tier immediately above you. But the sound and atmosphere vanish in the air. Instead you have got rain coming down. Fortunately, only a tiny drizzle 20 minutes before kick-off, but the roofing is so high above you that it will only give you shelter if the wind is blowing away from you – or not blowing at all. Which in Manchester is a courageuos assumption to make.

City’s small players, Silva, Aguerro, Nasri and Tevez play some nice football, and West Ham’s midfield drop too deep to deny them space around the area. Their only route out of there is sending long balls to Andy Carroll, who, however, is well marshalled by Lescott. So the first half is pretty one-sided, with City taking a one goal lead. Still, it is virtually only the West Ham support to be heard. Except in the 23rd minute, when the scoreboard flashes a photo of Marc Vivien Foe, who had played for both clubs when he tragically died in an international match. His shirt number was 23, and everybody stands up and applaud for the entire 23rd minute, whilst play continue. Kind of surreal, but a fine gesture.

In the second half, West Ham have decided to push their midfield forward, putting City under pressure and at the same time exposing themselves to quick breaks, which makes for a more open game. The crowd also seems to come a bit more alive, especially after the West Ham fans all shout for handball. This is followed by the usual mocking from the home supporters, standing up, mockingly shouting “handball” at any move after that. The West Ham support respond with a “We’d forgotten you were here”, which in turns make some of the City supporters try to get “Blue moon” going. They fail, however, and instead the West Ham support are “blowing bubbles” in full voice. The interchange has, however, awakened the home support, and there are more oohs and arrhs and attempts to get chants and songs going by the sections next to the West Ham support. It is, however, not until Yaya Toure makes it 2-0 8 minutes from full time, that they get the Toure song going. A chubby City supporter two rows in front of me even adds the dancing moves. A sight to behold.
City keeper Joe Hart allows an Andy Carroll shot to slip through his hands and legs in the final minute, giving West Ham some reward for their positive attitude in the second half. We are quickly out of the ground, and break away from the main stream of leaving supporters to get to our car.

An impressive stadium, but it does not really accommodate an atmosphere to match, say, the one at King Power, Leicester, where the sound circulates around the ground under the roofing. At Old Trafford, it can be quite deafening to stand in the Stretford End, but there the sound is absorbed by the hanging roofing, making it hard to hear it at the other end of the ground. At the Etihad as well as the Emirates, it just disappears. But I could imagine that for the big games, kicking off at 3 o’clock rather than 12.45, they still manage to create a better atmosphere.

Tagged with: Etihad, Howard Webb, Manchester City, West Ham F.C.
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

King Power stadium, Leicester

Posted on April 27, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — Leave a comment

What is going wrong in the Midlands? The other week I visited Wolves, who are on the brink of becoming the first ever team to drop directly from the first to the third tier of English football – twice. Monday I saw Aston Villa plunge deeper into relegation trouble. And today I visited Leicester. I saw them beat Middlesbrough back in January to move second in the table, confident of promotion. But in their last 16 league games, they have only won twice, leaving them needing to win today to have a realistic chance of making the play-offs.

I arrive at Leicester station two hours before kick-off. There are not any signs of a football match being on. On the way to Leicester’s King Power stadium, built in 2003, I take a walk past the site where their previous and famous ground Filbert Street was located, tightly squeezed in between terraced houses. You can see the two houses, which served as entrance gates to the ground, only halfheartedly having been restored to their original look. A student’s college has been built on part of the old pitch, but the other is just laying waste. A sad sight.

Fittingly enough, you have to cross a powerstation to get to the King Power stadium. As modern stadiums go, it looks nice from the outside. Perhaps not as distinct as Molineux, but more coherent than that ground. There is a remembrance garden next to the river that runs behind the ground – there are people on the way to the match bringing fresh flowers.

Outside the family stand, there is a stall with balloons and face painting for children – whereas there is no mounted police. And when you look at the people passing by, it does look more of a family event than most football matches. There are however, not many stalls outside. Only three of them are selling food – and only burgers. There are neither fish ‘n chips nor pies for sale outside the ground.

Having purchased my ticket, I meet up with club historian John Hutchinson. He has just shown a couple of visitors from Singapore around the ground, and is on his way to pitch side to make a radio interview about a heritage event on Sunday with Davie Gibson and Gordon Banks and a number of other former players. We walk through the players’ tunnel, and I am flattered as we encounter some of the staff that remembers me from my visit back in January. It enhances the impression of Leicester as club with a close, family like atmosphere.

John takes me to the shop, where Davie Gibson has been doing a book signing event. But, the publisher had only sent 50 rather than 500 copies, so Davie had left for the directors’ lounge before we get there. John leaves me, and I take up my seat at what is called the Kop end, bringing the name from the old ground despite nothing separating this end from the rest of the ground. This is the first time I have entered a stadium withouth anybody wanting to search my bag.

I like the interior of the stand. Spacious, a bit like the old stand at Goodison Park. And here I do manage to get a chicken ‘n mushroom pie. The catering staff reflect that Leicester is the ethnically most diverse town in England, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at the crowd, which is 95% white. Just as striking is the number of women of all ages, not only accompanying men and children, but also going in twos, threes and fours to the games.

To generate as much noise as possible, Leicester have put clap banners in all seats for the spectators to use for clapping. John predicts that they will probably end up on the field as paper planes, and some do, but even more end as confetti being hurled into the air. Whether the clap banners make a difference or not, I cannot tell. But the crowd is surprisingly noisy even before the players enter the field. Everybody seems to use the clap banners to make noise, and led by pockets of supporters (mainly young men) standing throughout the match, there is also quite a lot of singing and chanting.

For the first twenty minutes you do not really notice the away support at the other end. Leicester enjoys most of the possession, but in the opening half hour, Watford look sharp on the break and create more and better chances, and gradually the noise level drop. Around the half hour mark, Leicester do get 3 or 4 half chances, and that lifts the crowd again. But four minutes from half time, Watford strike. First Schmeichel makes a great save after a quick Watford break, but the resultant corner is only half cleared, and the ball is played across goal once more and tapped in. While Leicester are still reeling from the disappointment, Watford go two up with a stunning strike from 30 yards in the top corner. As you can hear the taunts from the Watford supporters, the Leicester fans mobilize a few defiant chants and songs before half-time.

I am surprised that the Leicester fans still seem to be in relatively good voice as the second half gets under way. They do have a single chance, but overall Watford again seem more dangerous on the break. But then after 20 minutes, Leicester do find a way back, as a cross is knocked on to their substitute Hale, bordering on off-side. That gets the crowd going again and they manage to lift Leicester and knock Watford out of their stride. I leave the ground in injury time to make sure I get on the last train back to Manchester. Outside, the sound of frustrated growling from the ground and subdued cheers from the away end tells that Leicester don’t manage to get an equalizer.

All in all, I am impressed with the atmosphere at the ground. Maybe it was a last hooray, with the match being the last home game of the season and the last chance of getting back into the promotion race – as far as I could hear, the Watford fans were singing “2-0 in your cup final” at the end of the first half. Or maybe it was the clap banners that made so much noise, but in truth were rather annoying – particularly during the pre-match sing along to “Hey Jude”. But nevertheless it seemed to be one of the noisiest grounds, I have visited so far, probably also helped by the architecture, which makes the sound float around the ground – and not vanish into giant roofing constructions like at Old Trafford or into the open air at Molineux. But you do wonder, why the ethnic diversity of the city is so poorly reflected in the crowd. Perhaps because the noisy atmosphere, after all, is still fairly aggressive, despite all the families and women going.

Tagged with: Gordon Banks, King Power Stadium, Leicester City F.C., Watford
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

Gigg Lane, Bury

Posted on April 27, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — Leave a comment

‘

The day after the premiership title has been decided, I am on my way to Gigg Lane in Bury, just outside Manchester. Not to see the local club, the Shakers, who have just been condemned to relegation from League One and need a £ million to stay in business, but to see their tenants, FC United of Manchester. The club born in the aftermath of the Glazer family buying Manchester United in 2005. There have been a few academic studies into fan culture and the reactions to the transformation of English football over the past two decades. There are the new corporate fans, who buy all the merchandise and “consume” the new culture. There are the lads, who follow their team everywhere, but will not buy a pie inside the ground as a protest against the commercialism. And there are the more intellectual, reflecting fans. But FC United opened up an alternative route. Start all over again with a club that places community work at the heart of its activities.

Now, as quoted in the Kevin Loach movie “Looking for Eric”, you can change your wife and you can change your political views, but you can’t change your football team. But nevertheless, that is what FC United has tried to make Manchester United fans do. And families have been divided. Arthur Albiston. star of the seventies and eighties, has described how one of his sons has gone over to the FC, whereas the other has stayed loyal. And you could look at Ryan Giggs playing for Manchester United, and his younger brother for FC.

Trying to find my way to the ground, I spot a FC fan and chat with him on the way. He is travelling from Stoke, but there are ex-United supporters travelling from all over England. One of his mates comes up from Brighton. After winning promotion in their opening seasons, FC has stalled in the EvoStick Premier Division, missing out in the playoffs two seasons running. With a win tonight, they can clinch their place in the playoffs once again. But – being a midweek match – he predicts a low gate of around 1.500, which is very much spot on.

As the ground belongs to Bury, FC have to set up their gear on a match-to-match basis. Adding to the sense that this is very much an alternative club that attracts a different audience. It feels like market stalls set up in a local town square – or perhaps outside the venue for a rock festival.

Some of the people there look a bit bohemian compared to other crowds, but I spot a big skinhead with his MUFC tatoo just showing on his neck. Adding to the sense of an alternative community, are the Che Guevara banners on sale in the stalls.

The ground is not that old, but it looks like it. It is a bit grotty, to be frank, but in a nice way. Somehow reflecting the values. It is not important to have a shiny, glass facade. The catering inside the ground is sparse, but I do manage to get a steak and ale pie before the match and the only pasty left during the half time interval.

The FC put a lot of effort into marking that Gigg Lane is, indeed, their territory. There are at least 50 banners adorning the three stands not in use. Some declare support from other countries and even continents. Others are political in their content: “Supporters, not customers”, “Making friends, not millionaires”. A giant bar scarf, about 40 * 3 meter, represent the most common garment among the FC fans. The good, old fashioned bar scarf from the mid-/late seventies that Manchester United by the way also has taken up again this season, perhaps inspired by the FC. It seems like a shift in fashion at the Manchester United, but the meaning attributed to it by the FC fans is reflected in the text of one of their banners: “Childhood memories”.

Trying to fit in, I had bought a scarf at the stalls, nostalgically going for the black-white-red rather than the common red-white-black. But with one exception, nobody but me wears it.

As the players are about to enter the field, the FC United half of the stand (there are a few Ashton supporters in the other half) start chanting. And amazingly, they carry on singing and chanting throughout the first half! It appears that this is really what it is about. Making a vocal statement of what they want football to be. Standing, singing, declaring their love for their team. And as football songs go, their repertoire is quite sophisticated, the songs last up to five minutes – and the only ones carrying an edge are directed at the Glazers. “Please don’t worry, about a thing, We are FC, we are gonna be all right”.

This is my third match in Manchester within a week, and it follows the same pattern as the previous two. The home side plays devastating, sharp football in the first half, storming into a three goal lead, which could and should have been much bigger. And then in the second half, they do not really pick up the momentum again, and it falls a bit flat. Every goal is greeted by frantic waving of scarves and halts the singing momentarily. “I am an FC fan, I am a Mancunian, I know what I want, and I know where to get it”.

Even though the second half doesn’t really live up to the first, the singing is once again non-stop. People take it in turns to join in – and to chat with each other when they have a break. There is a high proportion of women, but ethnically and age-wise it is mainly a white +40 crowd. “So come on cheer the boys, hear the FC noise, we go wild wild wild” The tunes for the songs to a large extent reflect that most of the crowd grew into football in the 70’s like me.

When I leave the ground, I am just about the only person heading for the station. Everybody seems to have gone to the match by car, and with crowds not being bigger, that is the easiest way to go. But it also reflects the composition of the crowd – most of them are driving cars.

Looking at some of the people standing around me, contemplating the political statements that permeat most things around the club, and with ears ringing from the non-stop singing, I wonder whether I would convert if I lived here permanently.

Tagged with: Bury F.C., Che Guevara, FC United of Manchester, Gigg Lane
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

Old Trafford, Manchester

Posted on April 25, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — Leave a comment

There was a shade of carnivallike atmosphere around Old Trafford Monday night. With City having lost at Spurs on the Sunday, most people expected to celebrate the title. Not overjoyous, but still a feeling that it was not just an ordinary match. I don’t know the usual price for black market tickets for homematches, but out of curiosity I asked one of the ticket touts. £ 150 was the price, that is roughly 3 times face value, indicating that the interest was not too great, although I did see Asian tourists buy from the touts, partly hidden behind the urinals in Railway Road.

From early morning the souvenir grafters had been queueing up in the forecourt in front of the ground to sell their “Champions 20” stuff, in fact a lot of it had been on sale for a couple of weeks. A bit too premature for my liking.

The crowds in the pubs seemed a little bit more vocal than usual, but although I had thought I would go to one of them, I was put off by the many Scandinavians queueing up outside. When you go to other grounds, people seem to respect you, because you have come all the way from Scandinavia to watch the match. And it used to be like that, when I travelled to Manchester throughout the eighties. But not anylonger in Manchester. Many locals seem fed up with footballing tourists. When I interviewed former United star Paddy Crerand, he remembered how a couple of Scandinavians turned up at the local pub before a match in the eighties. They came back every year, bringing more Scandinavians with them for each year, until the pub was virtually taken over by Scandinavians.

It seems that the Scandinavians are keen to do it the right, Mancunian way, compared to the Asians. Wearing the gold and green scarves, going to the Bishop Blaize, being up-to-date with the songs. But perhaps because of that, I trace a scepticism among the Manchester fans that I don’t notice in other places. And it makes me avoid fellow Scandinavians.

Walking down to Old Trafford daily for a month has also changed my feelings when entering the forecourt. I always want to take a photo of my son there, when we go. But now I don’t really feel comfortable in the forecourt among the tourists taking photos.

I have my pre-match fish ‘n chips, take a photo of the house in Railway Road where Enoch West used to live, one of the United players banned in the matchfixing scandal in 1915 – whose ban was not lifted till after the World War, the second that is. He lived litteraly a goalkick from the ground.

After that, I go inside the ground to have a drink watching the MUTV interviews on the screens. There is no real tension as there is in big matches – so hardly a chant before the players enter the field. Whereas many other teams have sing-along tapes to start the noise, it does, however, flow freely from here at the Stretford End, where I am seated, once the players have entered. And the guy next to me seems quite up for it, clenching his fist, punching my shoulder, saying “YEEAAHH, AWESOME” and things like that. He doesn’t look like Eric Idle, but somehow reminds me of the Monty Python “nudge nudge” scetch. But then, everybody really gets carried away by the opening 15 minutes. Exploding stuff. If anybody had any fears or doubts they are expelled within 90 seconds, as United play some great stuff and take an early lead.

The second goal in particular is breathtaking. From my seat right under the roof in the NorthWest Quadrant, I have a perfect view of Robbie van Persie shaping up for an unstoppable bending volley and I can follow the ball’s trajectory just inside the post. One of those split seconds, where you somehow still have the time to think “Oh, no. This is too brillant to be true – it will hit the post and bounce out” but then realise it is a goal and go absolutely mental. I can’t take a photo, as my neighbour hugs me and punch my shoulder.

It is, however, a bit like a party with fireworks, where you find out that you have fired all your best crackers right at the start, and nothing after that really can live up to it. So much noise, so much singing, such great goals, such breathtaking stuff in the opening 20 minutes. And gradually things recinds into a normal level. That now feels a bit flat. But once we enter the final 20 minutes, the celebration proper gets under way, with homage being paid to everybody from George Best over Cantona and Jaap Stam to Wesley Brown and John O’Shea.

After the final whistle, the players do two laps of honour with about half the ground staying behind singing and applauding. Again, nice and in good spirit – but not exuberant as you perhaps would expect.

Afterwards there is lot of singing around the ground – which there rarely is for ordinary matches. A rush of stewarts and police on horses towards the forecourt indicates that some incidence has taken place, but it is over before it has started.

As usual, a big crowd gathers around the players entrance, hoping to get autographs. I opt for the directors’ entrance, looking for former players.

After about an hour the crowd at the players’ entrance is dispersed – all of the players have apparently left. But about 20 minutes later, as I decide it is time to go home, I hear shouting down there and go to have a look. Robbie van Persie is just getting into his car – after signing autographs for the approximately 15 fans who have stayed behind. “My son will kill me, when he hears, I missed out on this” I say to one of them. He feels sorry for me, and as he has managed to get 4 van Persie autographs in the melé, he gives me one of them for my son. They stay behind as Alex Ferguson’s car has just been driven inside the players tunnel, where it is waiting for him with the engine running. I decide to join them to be able to add an Alex Ferguson autograph from the night he won his 13th premiership title to the van Persie one.

But he takes his time. His assistant Mike Phelan leaves and shakes hands, poses for photos, but still no Sir Alex. More than an hour passes, before he finally at 1 AM gets into his car. A security guy tell us, that as long as we don’t push or take any photos, Sir Alex will sign for everybody as the car rolls by – and indeed he does. I get the opportunity to congratulate him on a night when Old Trafford at times really was rocking in celebration.

Tagged with: Enoch West, Manchester United FC, Old Trafford
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

Loftus Road, London

Posted on April 21, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — 1 Comment

Having seen Stoke as well as Queens Park Rangers losing 2-0 last weekend, I found it fitting to go to London to see them fight out a real relegation battle. Defeat for the R’s and they would be all but out, defeat for the Potters, and they would really be in trouble.

I take an early train to visit the Chelsea museum before the game (review of that coming up). But once I have left the Chelsea ground and the visiting tourists there, I can’t help noticing the big difference between going to football in London and any other place I have visited. You just don’t realise that there is match on in London! Sheffield, Liverpool, Manchester are cities bigger than Copenhagen; and there is a buzz of anticipation around them on matchdays, certainly when you arrive at the main station.

But not in London – despite the fact that there actually are three Premier League games on this afternoon. It is not untill I get outside White City tube station that I can see people on their way to the match.

Another striking feature is the number of tourists, who want to add football to their London visit. At least a hundred Scandinavians (mainly from Sweden), but also the Asians, Eastern Europeann visitors, Spanish and French tourists. I am pretty certain that the percentage of tourists is much higher here than at Manchester United or Liverpool, who are supposedly the main tourist-pullers. And the tourists there have come for the football. A few of the people at Loftus Road seem to have added football to list of typical English things to do while in London, without really being fans.

Having said that – I like Loftus Road. A stadium surrounded by housing on three sides, and therefore impossible to develop into a large, modern stadium. And it is a very small ground with a capacity of just under 20.000 spectators. The main stand – the one without housing bordering up to it and with reception and executive boxes – even has a number of uncovered seats. Fortunately, the sun is shining on this first real spring day in the UK.

The local supporters seem to bear their pligth with diginity. I chat with a couple of QPR supporters (who are actually up from Cornwall, but it is traditional family thing to follow the Rs) and they are not – as you would expect – blaming owner or manager or bad spending in the transfer market. They just recognize that things have gone wrong this season, confidence-zapping defeats with late goals conseeded being the order of the day. They hope that the manager will stay on – and as many of the players as possible. After the match, I hear a boy worrying that all the players will leave now that they are doomed to relegation, but the father comforts him saying that no teams in the premier league will want to sign any player from the QPR side – except Remy and Samba. Some comfort.

To add to the friendly atmosphere around the ground there are info-points where smiling girls ask people if they need help to find the right place, and the security guy who checks my bag exclaims “What a lovely weather today – oh, you have brought books?” “Yeah, I have been reading on the train from Manchester” “So you are from Manchester?” “No, Denmark actually. But I am based in Manchester this month from where I am groundhopping”. He then asks me about the matches I have been to and plan to go to. Not often you come across security as friendly as that.

Inside the ground security are friendly as well as attentive. The guy seated next to me does not look up on the field at all for the opening 15 minutes. He just stares at his feet – seemingly doped or something. Security spot it. A number of people, including policce, are called and have a look at the guy from a distance, discussing whether they shall pick him up, I guess. But he wakes up a little bit, groans with frustation as an attack breaks down – and they leave him.

For QPR it is a repeat of last weekend’s match at Everton. They are the better side, but lack cutting-edge. And 4 minutes before the break, they go down against the run of play. In the second half they don’t believe in it anymore. When they concede a penalty and go two down, they give up – and are just running around aimlessly. They are going down. A shame, because they do try to play good football.

The feeling inside the ground is a bit strange. The Stoke away support is actually seated in the upper tier of my two-tiered stand. I can’t see them! And the vocal QPR supporters are standing in the corner in the opposite end of the ground. The chanting and singing are faint eccoes in the distance. But credit to the QPR fans. They keep up “Harry Rednap’s blue and white army for at least 5 minutes – and do most of the chanting in the first half. The Stoke fans give one Delilah, but are otherwise surprisingly quiet until things really begin to go their way in the second half. And the fact that they are above you takes a lot of the sound.

You really do feel how compact the ground is inside. I have to press my shoulders in between the two men sitting next to me, and there is not room for my (or my neighbour’s) legs. It gets even worse at halftime. The stand is not built for catering, but they have put in some stalls anyway. There is, however, no room for eating and drinking, let alone queing for the stalls. The interior of the stand is therefore one big traffic jam of people, who either want to got to the toilet of buy drinks – or eat their food before they lose it in the melé.

It also seems odd to have the away support above you. Particularly after the match, when the Stoke supporters leaving the stand cross a stairway above us. They could have thrown any sort of missile at us. When Manchester United come to town, QPR do, however, appparantely let the United support have both tiers at that end, as a fresh “Love United Hate Glazers” streamer outside the toilets is a signature from recently visiting United supporters.

I had expected that it would take an hour to get on the tube after the match. But actually, the tube back to central London is not even jammed; but a handful of celebrating Stoke fans ensure that you are in no doubt that it is Saturday afternoon and time for football, even in London.

Tagged with: Loftus Road, Queens Park Rangers F.C., Stoke City F.C.
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

Brantingham Road, Chorlton-cum-Hardy

Posted on April 20, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — Leave a comment

On a rainy Thursday night without any Premier or Football League fixtures on, my friend Tim invites me to see local team Maine Road F.C. against Squires Gate in the North West Counties Football League.

We get into the ground at kick-off, and have hardly found us a seat, before the hometeam takes the lead. Maine Road F.C. are in all skyblue kits, and wear the original badge of Manchester City. The club was formed by a City social club back in 1955 – and tries to carry on traditions such as the name of City’s old ground and the club badge.

And they are doing well, too. They are second from top against second from bottom. Not that that guarantees anything as Wolves’ win over Hull the other night proved. But this Thursday, Maine Road F.C. are 3 up within 25 minutes and could actually have had 6.

Tim asks me, what level I used to play at. I tell him emphatically that I was not very good, but if I should compare myself with one of the players on the pitch it would be the Squire’s centreback number …. Suddenly I can’t spot him. He has been taken off after 26 minutes! And partly because of that and partly because they put a bit of pressure on the Maine Road backfour which is not quite as overwhelming as their strike force, Squires have stopped the rot.

In the second half, they even have a brief spell of pressure, but 2 minutes from the end, a Maine Road player is through on goal, beats the keeper with his shot, but the ball bounces off the advertising board behind the goal. We wonder how he could miss, and finally the referee decides that he actually hasn’t missed, but that the ball has gone through the net. The keeper is furious. But it ends 4-0.

We are 42 people attending, paying £ 5 each + £1.50 for the match programme. At half time, we go into the nearby building, where the players’ changing rooms are located, and have a coffee. And we follow the players back on to the pitch, which looks remarkably good considering the appalling winterweather.

After the blistering start, the game falls a little flat, but it is still a good focus point for meeting and having a chat. The referee also likes a chat. He gives long explanations of his decisions to the players with a big smile on his face, and when a Squires fullback ballons an attempted cross out of the ground, the referee runs a fully 30 yards to tell him how awful that was. Great enthusiasm!

Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

Boleyn Ground, London

Posted on April 19, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — Leave a comment

On the road with Manchester United support again, this time to West Ham United’s Boleyn Ground in West London. After 5 ½ hours on the road, we arrive at the ground just outside the entrance of the away section. As I had been to see the ground in May and seen the facade and memorial garden, I don’t really feel like venturing into the home fans’ territory, so after buying a programme, I go straight to the entrance.

To my surprise, I am not even searched by security and police as I enter the away end. On the contrary, I am welcomed by stewards. And inside the tiny room beneath the stand, Manchester United supporters are welcomed by signs in the refreshment sale (which doesn’t serve beer, however). The United support for this match does not seem as “hardcore” as the one that turned up at Stoke. It is much more mixed, particularly etnically and genderwise. I also hear a couple of Danish and Spanish voices and see the usual Asian suspects.

As the United section was sold out, there must have been some ticket touts, who did’t manage to sell their stock. There were at least 20 empty seats around me right in the corner of the ground. Or maybe some fans had decided that they would have a better view from the middle of the stand. As nobody in the United section is actually sitting, it is not impossible to squeeze into a part of the ground with a better view. Or maybe some people have chosen to avoid their seats, as we have about 20 policemen right in front of us carefully monitoring our every move, filling notebook sheet after sheet with observations.

As the West Ham supporters are only a few yards away, the police are keen to clamp down on any sign of trouble here. In the United section that is. All the policemen face us, not a single one the West Ham supporters. The banter is mutual and, I think, quite goodhumoured. When the United section doesn’t throw the ball back on the pitch, the West Ham support ask: “Are you scousers in disguise?” They follow up with “You only live round the corner”, which is greeted by a chant from the United supporters that the West Ham fans have only come to see Manchester United.

Manchester United have always enjoyed great support in London; but the theme hits something important. On the coach, supporters were singing “We are not cockney reds, we are born and bred in Manchester”. With United attracting so many tourists, it is important to underline your local roots. And the depth of your loyalty. Just like at Stoke, several United songs proclaim that United are greater than England, that United have won more World Cups – and that “You can stick your f….. England up yours”.
The girl I met on the coach to Stoke had told me that she was to go to Portugal with her job for 7 months. The only good thing in England, was watching United – apart from that she couldn’t wait till she got away. When I remarked that I could imagine that she didn’t support the England side, she answered scornfully: “No proper United fan does”. Perhaps partly because of the taunts for not being as local (or provincial) as other clubs, Mancunian’ism is central to many United supporters.

The watching policemen seem rather overzealous to me. Several United supporters are pounced on, despite seemingly only taking part in the banter on an equal footing with the West Ham fans.

The match is not the best technical game, but because of a strong physical approach from West Ham, several lapses from both sides, there is a lot of end-to-end stuff with chances at both ends. West Ham take the lead after about 15 minutes, followed shortly after by a United equalizer. The pattern is repeated in the second half, this time United equalizing 15 minutes from full time.

The match is a fine display of the excitement of English football. The United crew is not quite as vocal as the one Sunday, but they still do their bit to create a great atmosphere. So too do the West Ham supporters. They did a “I am forever blowing bubbles” on their own, before singing along to the tape over the PA before the match. They did so again at half time – and at the end of the match. To me, a lot more impressive than “You’ll never walk alone” at Anfield, this time accompanied by bubbles from the side of the pitch rather than scarf raising.

Altough there is a half-open cornequadrant, the ground seems very intimate and integrated, the floodlights adding to this feeling. The view from the seats, however, was very poor. Even more so for the poor Manchester girl behind me, who tried to get a view standing on her seat, but was asked to step down by stewards. But all in all definetely a good place to visit.

Tagged with: Boleyn Ground, Manchester United FC, Upton Park, West Ham
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

Molineux, Wolverhampton

Posted on April 18, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — Leave a comment

Talking about football, my landlady, Bernadette, tells her favourite story about George Best. He is in a hotel room with Miss World, and calls for room service. Room service opens the door and sees George and the gorgeous girl lying on the bed, money strewn around them, champagne bottles as well. “Where did it all go wrong, mr. Best” he is supposed to have said.

I ask the same question to two Wolverhampton Wanderers under the brand new Stan Cullis Stand at Wolverhamptons famous Molineux Ground. From being in the Premier League last season, Wolves now find them self second from bottom in the Championship, in risk of becoming the first team ever to go directly from the top to the third division – twice!

They have been asking themselves the same question, and they point to the new stand as a possible place to start. “They wanted to move the stand closer to the pitch to frighten visiting teams. But what happened was that our players suddenly could hear fans slamming them, and confidence disappeared”.

To add insult to injury, the roofing hadn’t been completed last season, so my two new friends had been sitting in an uncovered stand, getting soaky wet whenever it rained, and there had been floodings under the stand. Now they had completed the roofing, but still the stand was so badly designed, that the wind swirled around and made it a cold experience. Not to mention the money invested in the stand.

Actually, the stand had made a positive impression on me at first sight. Even though I would have loved to seen the old Molineux with its characteristic 7 vaults, I like the look of the new ground from the outside. Kept in shades of yellow and dark with plenty of Wolves heads to show, that this is not the same random new glass and steel construction that you find in so many new stadiums.

There is a friendly air to the new stand. The signs don’t threaten you with arrests for taking alcohol into the stands, they just ask you not to do it. There is a changing room for babies. There are paintings on the wall. You can even buy jacket potatoes in stead of pies, sausage rolls and burgers in the café. Or so I think. Because when I ask for one, I am told that “we only have pies”. A sign of the hard times that have befallen Wolves? Just like the shop, where so many things are on sale – except the impressive Wolves’ heads.

Another fan focus on the players. In all honesty, he says, Wolves only had two players of premiership quality. The reason why they managed to stay up in the first season was that they worked so much harder than everybody else. Once they couldn’t do that, they were exposed and dropped down to their real level. And then their timing is sacking managers has been awful. Norwegian Staale Solbakken created quite a culture shock when he brought in a lot of foreign coaches. Perhaps he shouldn’t have done that, but he should have been given more time. Now he was sacked after 3 bad results, and a new manager was brought in right in the middle of the transfer market. By the time he had assessed the squad, the transfer market was over. Anyway, he cannot bring anything new; they should have stuck with Solbakken – or McCarthy in the first place. My first two friends agree that the timing has been wrong, Only they think that McCarthy should have been sacked sooner rather than later.

Tonight the Wolves are up against the Tigers, Hull City. Second from top against second from bottom. On the terraces, it is hard to distinguish the yellow and black of Hull from the yellow and black of Hull, but on the field, Hull seem to be sharper, technically stronger and much more confident as they boss the opening half, without, however, finding any openings.

I regret being in the Stan Cullis stand, as the chanting is coming from the Hull support in the Steve Bull stand and the Wolves’ fans in the opposite Jack Harris stand. Not that they are not enthusiastic. But the gender- and age-wise mixed crowd in the Stan Cullis stand is just not very vocal.

In the second half, Wolves pounce on a defensive slip and score. And for the rest of the match they fight like – well, tigers, and mange to hold Hull at bay. As the clock ticks down the atmosphere gets really intense, even the Stan Cullis stand joins into bits of singing, before finally celebrating a hard-earned victory that lifts them out of the relegation three, at least temporarily.

However well it looks from the outside, it is, however, difficult to generate an intense atmosphere at Molineux. The stands are too separate, the gaping holes in the quadrants allowing atmosphere to fizzle out. It doesn’t help that less than 20.000 turn up, leaving even more gaping spaces on the terraces. There is however a strong feeling of family – and sense of history, with an impressive marketing of the club museum on the screens underneath the stand as well as outside the ground. The pre-match TV was all about the museum with curator Sophie Cawthorne featuring.

It is not quite the Wolves of Derek Dougan and Kenny Hibbit, but still enough to make you hope that they avoid the drop and get back on track.

Tagged with: Derek Dougan, George Best, Hull City A.F.C., Stan Cullis, Wolverhampton Wanderers F.C.
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

Britannia Stadium, Stoke

Posted on April 14, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — 1 Comment

I walk into the pub to wait for the coach to take us from Manchester to Stoke. Having just had a little bread for breakfast, I opted for some more breakfast and coffee instead, and sat down at a table, opposite an elder man, Peter, who was already on his second pint.

Although he lived in one of the houses closest to the ground, he hadn’t been going to matches since 1968. When United won the European cup, he had seen it all. I asked him what it was like to live so close to the ground on matchdays. There were no problems, although when I asked him about the seventies, he told about the massive fights and smashing of windows. I asked him when the players had stopped living in the neighbourhood. “George Best lived just up the road!” he said. “And Sammy McIroy lived just round the corner”.

A man-mountain skinhead walks by and says hello. “Don’t stand next to him, if you will stay out of trouble. That is my neighbour Fred. He keeps asking me, why the police always pick on him. I tell him to look into the mirror.” And I can see what he means.

Just past 12, the coach arrives, and gradually people drift from the pub. I take a window seat upstairs in the double-decker, and one of only two women sits down next to me. Annika is 37 and has been a season-ticket holder for 10 years, brought up in a United family with four brothers.

When I mention that there are not many women going, she becomes upset with the ones who actually do go to homematches. All the wives that just come along, not knowing a thing about football, taking up seats for proper fans. They should have their credentials tested before being allowed in.

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The last few miles to the ground, a couple of policemen on motorbikes escort our coach. The Britannia is just off the motorway, and the rest of the traffic is held back, as we are escorted into a fenced-in carpack for away fans, just off the entrances to the away end. It is only 10 minutes to kick-off as we arrive. The security guy who searches me spots my camera and my microphone. I tell him that I am doing research into football fans – and he takes me along to head of security. “This guy says he is doing some feature on football fans. He has a camera and microphone”. Fortunately, head of security says it is allright, and allows me in.

I head straigth for the stands instead of buying some much needed lunch. The Crewe fan, I had met Wednesday had told me that the Britannia as a stadium is an accident waiting to happen. It is so badly designed. Steep stands with very few exits and too narrow aisles. My seat was at the top of the stand, and in the sea of standing United supporters (United’s away support is always stading) I couldn’t even see where the aisle was supposed to be. But I just managed to get to the top before the game started.

As always, the United support (about 90% white male 25-60, but with five asians among us!) was in good voice from the start, and United responded by taking the lead after only four minutes.

A fat Stoke supporter standing out in a white shirt with a little boy sitting next to him, was gesticulating angrily and therefore singled out for a song about his fatness. He duly obliged by pulling up his shirt and showing his big belly. That was followed by chants asking him,if he had ever seen his feet. It sounds good-humoured, but there definetely was an edge to it, at least as far as the Stoke fans were concerned. After about 10 minutes, United taunted them “Where is your famous atmosphere?” and starting with handsclapping all around the ground, the Stoke fans suddenly found their voice – seemingly from the entire ground (they had also done “Delilah” straight after kick-off). With chanting on both sides intensifying, Stoke’s players started to play more aggressively, but not creating much.
At half-time, I opted for staying in my place rather than trying to find the aisle to the exit below, so no lunch today. Although the United section carried on singing in the singing half, it was not quite as intense as in the first, with a feeling of anxiety with the score only 1-0 perhaps creeping in. There was an erruption of trouble in the main stand by the executive boxes, where at least one Stoke fan was fairly aggresive towards somebody inside. And after United finally added a second from a penalty, a number of Stoke fans from the section next to us was being escorted away by the police. But from now on, United fans were going through the repertoire of songs, whereas the despondent Stoke fans started to leave.

Michael Owen came on as substitute for Stoke, at first applauced for his time in United, but then greeted with a lot of anti-scouse songs and chants. One fan tried to one stating that that was one thing Margaret Thatcher got right, but he was immediately confronted by those standing around him.

At the final whistle, the United players came up to applaud the support. It took quite a while to get out because of the lack of exits. The Stoke players had come out for their warm-down, by the time I finally got out.

I headed straight for our coach – the away coach section was crammed with police and security, with frustrated Stoke fans outside gesticulating angrily. Finally, the police decided it was time for us to leave, and escorted us through the traffic out to the motorway. Maybe it was exhaustion after the match or the loud music that was still banging out the PA, but there was not much talking on the way back to Manchester. Just satisfaction that we are only 7 points away from Championship number 20 now.

As a ground, it is surprising to think that the Britannia was created after the Taylor report. It was the most claustrophic ground, I have visited so far. How come that they could get the number of exits and width of passages so horribly wrong? Two of the stands are connected – but the remaining two stand stangely disconnected to the rest, with huge open spaces in the corners, allowing the wind to swirl across the ground. I didn’t have much time to look at the facilities inside the ground, but did go to the toilet on my way in, which was just as inadequately equipped with entrance/exit spaces as the ground. And the room for standing underneath felt very tight compared with the open spaces at Goodison,

The stadium is conveniently placed just off the motorway, so we were back in Manchester an hour and a half after the final whistle. And credit to the home supporters for being much more vocal than Liverpool and Everton supporters, even though their team was trailing the entire match.

Tagged with: Britannia Stadium, Manchester United FC, Stoke City F.C.
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

Goodison Park, Liverpool

Posted on April 13, 2013 by Hans Henrik Appel — Leave a comment

Goodison Park, one of the few English Stadiums still featuring the characteristic achitecture of Archibald Leitch, who engineered most English football grounds around the start of the 20th century; despite his first project at Ibrox Park in Scotland turning out to be fatal disaster. But, Leitch learned from his mistakes, and grounds such as Goodison, Old Trafford, Highbury, and Craven Cottage were build by him during the following decades.

At Goodison, the Bullens Road Stand and the Gwladys Street stand are basically Leitch’s constructions with the balconies with criss-crossed steel balustrades and huge pillars interfering with the view of those unfortunate enough to sit directly behind them.

I chose to go the Gwladys Street stand to get the chance to have a closer look at Leitch’s architecture, despite reading recommendations that you from the top of the main stand from 1971 actually can see across Stanley Park to neighbours Liverpool’s Anfield Road. And as the rain started to poor down, I was glad that I had the chance to look at the single, huge room underneath the stand; not narrow and claustrophobic like you find the in many grounds.

I also had the opportunity to go pitchside and have a look at the plaques for some of the 800 dead, who have had their ashes spread on the field. In many ways, Goodison has a sacred status. They are – according to a heritage plaque – the only ground to be situated in the back garden of a church, St. Luke’s church at the corner of the Gwladys Street stand. And it is certainly the first time I have seen programme and scarf-selling from a church; they also served pre-match snacks at the church, but have apparently recently stopped the selling of old programmes. Argentina may have the hand of God, Everton have his house.

Everton are proud of their history. They still have a 12-year-old toffee-girl walking round the ground before the match, throwing toffees to fans. And outside, the stadium is adorned by a timeline of Everton’s history, made by the ground-breaking Everton collection. There is also a statue of Everton legend Dixie Dean in front of the reception at the Park Stand.

Everton brand themselves as “The people’s club” compared to Liverpool F.C. “Everton fans are born, not manufactured, we do not chose, we are chosen, those who understand need no explanation, those that don’t understand don’t matter.” proclaims a banner near the ground,

It seems a bit like Manchester City proclaiming that they are the club of Manchester – how well the claim is founded is another matter. True, you don’t see the many asian tourists around Goodison, the crowd seems more local. An true, the train from Manchester was not filled with supporters on their way to the match like last Sunday, but then there was only 2 hours to the early kick-off last Sunday, but 4 hours today (but I did have a great chat with Neil, a Derby County supporter, having a day off). And. There must be a reason why you can buy tickets for their matches at the tourist centre (convenient for me that I didn’t have the time to go straight to the ground to secure a ticket, but could explore the museums in Albert Dock). And I did spot some Frenchmen, saw some Swedish guys at the stadium who looked like they were on the way to a football match – and I bumped into Henrik Larsen from the Danish European Championship winning side in 1992, who told me that he was part of group of 90 Danes making a weekend tour to matches in Germany, England and Italy (although it is Everton legend Howard Kendall pictured above approaching the ground). And anyway, the crowd at Goodison was 35.000, 10.000 less than Liverpool’s at Anfield, so I doubt that Liverpool has less local support than Everton.

But Goodison is definetely Scouse territority! I went to a snack shop near the ground, and didn’t understand a word of what the waitress said (except her final “luv”) – her scouse accent was that thick. I tried to be local and ordered two Scouse Pies – but they must go down as the most disappointing pre-match meal I have ever had. Inside the ground, everybody around me were talking with scouse accents almost equally thick. Fortunately, their outbursts were so brief that I got the meaning without subtitles: “f….. shoot!” and things like that. The crowd was – from what I saw 100% white, with relatively few kids, but a fair share of women.

There were, however, very little singing or chanting from the Everton supporters in the first half. Just like at Liverpool. Of course, this wasn’t a derby like the match at Old Trafford Monday, but still I am amazed with commentators talking about Old Trafford being quiet. It is not what it used to be, right, but still I have not experienced it as quiet as Anfield and Goodison in the first half. Neill, my new Derby supporting friend from the train, had advised me to always go to the away section. Up until Everton taking the lead, the relatively small contingent of QPR supporters was definetely doing the singing. But in the second half, as the threat of relegation stared them in the face, it sounded as though they grew quiet.

The Everton supporters behind me had just proclaimed that they would be leaving the ground on 60 minutes, if it was still 0-0, when Everton took the lead courtesy a lucky deflection just before halftime. Still, it was not until the second half when Everton were attacking the Gwladys Street End, that they finally found their voice Which coincided with Everton applying the first spell of sustained pressure with a couple of goalline clearances, before going two goals up.

At the final whistle, the crowd dispersed in the narrow streets around Goodison, which is even more tightly crammed by rows of housing at Anfield, but unlike Anfield, the housing around Goodison has not been condemned but is giving you a feeling of what football used to be like.

All in all – Goodison is a stadium which oozes atmosphere and history. But the home support was one of the most quiet I have come across. Footballing wise, well Everton deserved their 2-0 at the end with a good second half performance. Perhaps QPR lost belief going down to an unfortunate late goal in the first half. Some good stuff, but hardly a classic.

Tagged with: Archibald Leitch, Derby County, Dixie Dean, Goodison Park, Gwladys Street, Henrik Larsen, Howard Kendall, Liverpool, St. Luke's church, Stanley Park
Posted in Football grounds, Uncategorized

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