Hail Bale – Wales 2 Scotland 1

 

 A million wows. Brain-boggling Bale blasts a brilliant goal to salvage Wales – and a nation’s sanity – from the shredder.

For me, the best Welsh goal this millennium. Also, let’s just over-egg the pudding – one of the most important goals in our history.

Coming away from the spineless, September stinkathon in Serbia it seemed we’d taken a blow so painful that I feared recovery would be impossible.

It really seemed that the side didn’t give a monkey’s. Pitiful performances – well we’ve seen plenty of them, take your pic, there’s dozens. But last month was the worst of the lot.

Novi Sad was crisis-bad. Maybe the worst defeat in my lifetime and it seemed to spark knives out for Coleman and more turmoil than I can ever remember in my lifetime. Even worse was that the national side seemed to be again becoming a favoured topic of national ridicule.

A story appeared suggesting Coleman, to appease the FAW, would have to win against Scotland and Croatia and I thought: ‘Hang on, while you’re at it why not ask him to climb Everest too and then ski down stark bollock naked?’

So, full marks then to all the players. Novi Sad was all their fault, I figured. So all credit for this win must go them – and in winning they presumably have settled the insidious Coleman question for the moment.

The game

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Matches at the CCS are rarely without a pointedly chosen pre-match record . This time it was Secret Affair’s Time for Action. Mod anthem message to gee up the troops – an unusual choice.

Morison’s miss in the first half, followed by an immediate Scottish goal looked like it was going to sum up Welsh football history in 30 seconds. So close to glory, then sucker-punch humiliation just to remind you that the Welsh always lose. It’s in our genes.

At half-time, a mutual wail of woe with Iwan from Cardigan about strikers and the ‘How on earth aren’t we winning? chat.

And then a second-half swelling tide of Bale, Bale and more Bale. He’s absolutely fucking brilliant isn’t he, in a way I don’t think I’ve seen in any player play, bar Pavel Nedved at the Euros in 2004. If he raced a stag, you’d fancy his chances and then push the poor creature over.

Looked a penalty to me – in fact we should have had two before I reckoned, for fouls on Ramsey and Davies.

And then the goal that many of us felt was our due – like we’d earned it because we were driven mad in Novi Sad to the point where you question why you ever bothered starting to watch Wales play away and all those people who roll their eyes when you explained might have a point. But we were owed something big, something beautiful, something you would remember for the rest of your life. And about bloody time, we got it.

We got all that and more and the relief was immense. It resonates so much especially with the classic Wales v Scotland heartbreaks over the years. And fair dos to the Scot who admitted he clipped Bale therefore spiking the guns of the scurvy Scots who accused our man of diving.

Not really revenge as I reckon that it will still only, once the dust settles be the difference in a parochial play-off for fourth place in the group.

Great stuff and I bet Steve Morison must have been relieved his miss was an irrelevance. If you see a better goal at the CCS in the next 50 years then maybe it will have been scored by Messi beating seven players in the ninth minute of added time.

They all played, they all bust a gut, there are no complaints from me. The pain has been purged.

‘Coleman out’ codswallop

No prizes for guessing where I stand. It was brave to select Price, Davies and Ledley and all performed well. I can’t remember Price ever being less than excellent and if he was several inches taller he would surely be first-choice somewhere.

Quite brave to replace Ramsey as skipper too – though after Novi Sad where he appeared rudderless, a very sensible and obvious decision.

Seems to me that Ramsey, missing for Tuesday, could be replaced by an extra defender. Scotland still had several good chances and there was often lots of space in the box.

Let’s hope that whatever happens on Tuesday, the unsettling cloud over Coleman – a guy who has only three competitive games so far and in two of which (Belgium, Scotland) his side have played well, has been dispelled.

Giggs v Bale

The debate is edging towards Bale. Both men were men of the match in about half the first 25-30 games they played for Wales. Bale’s better goalscoring record and crossing ability edge it for me.

Play another seven or eight years and he’ll probably beat John Charles as the best Welsh player ever.

Roger Speed

This campaign will always be overshadowed by Gary Speed – can’t the anti-Coleman campaigners see the poisoned chalice he has accepted and give him credit for trying to turn it around?

So, it was heartwarming earlier in the week to hear Roger Speed urge people to get behind the side and Coleman in particular. He nailed his colours to the mast unequivocably and rather bravely, given the mutterings of the last month.

Simple common sense from a bereaved father bewildered by what he saw.

So, quite bizarrely, the spirit of Gary Speed is still with this team in the form of his father – a benevolent grandfather figure to the national side.

It occurs to me that Roger Speed, with a humane, compassionate sentence or two of support for Coleman, is a man wise beyond words.

Penalty pic courtesy of Jack Fleckney

Hail Cale

The grandaddy of Welsh rock showed age is no barrier to brilliance.

John Cale won’t be going gently into the good night on this evidence – he’s a peroxide blond at 70 (to fit in with the surfers in LA where he lives perhaps?) – and he’s a leading a testosterone-fuelled monster of band.

Manic Street Preacher James Dean Bradfield was among the audience at the Coal Exchange to witness what evolved into a startlingly good show.

With Cale on keyboards, the four-piece band – the rest of the group were half his age – started slowly with new numbers from the album Shifty Adventures in Nookie Wood being interesting rather than compelling.

It got a lot more exciting when he switched to guitar and a spellbinding rendition of Helen of Troy swirled us on to a different planet. It howled with fury, an absolute tour de force.

From that moment you forgot that this guy – the genius whose work with Lou Reed made the not-very-popular-at-the-time Velvet Underground in the 60s influenced thousands of bands – could be drawing a UK pension.

The band grew in confidence, the pace was relentless and tracks like Whaddya Mean By That and Perfection were perfectly pitched. Hard and loud, but melodic.

By the end Grandad John, who, let’s be honest, doesn’t smile too easily, was grinning. He was dripping in sweat – his cotton jacket was soaked through after a tough 90 minutes. There was no gasping for breath or concession to advancing years. I bet this uncompromising, peroxided pensioner even fancied a bit of crowd-surfing. It was an absolutely astounding performance and homecoming.

He may not have had a hit record you can name, or an easily recognisable public persona. But he is one of Wales’s national treasures.

The boy from Carmarthenshire, whose mother tongue was Welsh, signed off with – nice touch – ‘Nos da’.

‘Nos da’ wasn’t the half of it, this was very, very good night indeed.

Mad, bad Novi Sad – Serbia 6 Wales 1

Seven years ago I gave up drink. Last night I came close to starting again.

It wasn’t the worst I’ve ever felt at one of our games but it was one of the worst defeats in our history. The manner of it was excrutiating and it came at the worst possible time. The last year must have seemed like a constant crisis-management exercise for the FAW and it’s hard not to feel sympathy for officials.photo (1)

Now the crisis is on the pitch. Last Friday it seemed the players wanted to play – last night nobody seemed to want the ball once we fell behind. Good players had really really bad games. All this against a team I read had scored only twice in ten games. Local Serbs after the match were as stunned as we were. Father Christmas had flown in from Cardiff to deliver a wonderful present.

The mad

The dream opening to this piece that I had in store would have been a tale of divine retribution for Wales after our 2003 trip to Novi Sad to see the under-21s play. That night our keeper Jason Brown, now of Aberdeen, was racially abused and players James Collins and David Pipe were elbowed, according to our then coach Jimmy Shoulder. It was sickening. In fact, the evident racism in the country, not just in the match, was a shock.

Before the game, a friend reporting seeing balaclava-clad Serbian ultra-nationalists parade through the town, about 40 of them.

Keep smiling
Keep smiling

Add to that that the volcanic Sinisa Mihajlovic, who called Patrick Vieira a ‘fucking black monkey’ back in 2000, is now Serbia manager and I had hopes that Ashley Williams could score a last-minute winner to somehow make amends. Sometimes it’s a bad thing to over-romanticise football.

The bad 

Well this would apply to the entirety of the match from the moment we kicked off in a grey kit that I can only describe as horrible. Reminded me of my old school uniform. Each to their own, my mate Tim then informed me he had bought it.

We knew our coins would be confiscated but I never figured a souvenir Serbia pen would be snatched off me too. I couldn’t be bother to argue. It set the tone.photo

No point in going into a blow-by-blow account of what went wrong. Pretty much everything of course.

Sometimes that’s easier to bear because we have such a good time on the terrace that the on-field disappointments are water off a duck’s back. Eindhoven 1996 comes to mind.

A worse defeat (7-1) but the last 20 minutes was a roaring crescendo of Welsh defiance, by us not the players, and the locals clapped us out of the stadium, so impressed were they. And at least Vinnie Jones didn’t play much for Wales after that fiasco.

But I have to say that the seven minutes between Serbia’s second goal and Bale’s free-kick rank among the blackest spells of watching Wales in more than 100 games.

Many fans failed to contain their boiling anger at the players – something I’ve rarely witnessed – and the nature of the Serb second goal probably had something to do with it. It was like a comedy dribbler was being helped out by freakish ricochets and mistimed attempts at tackles. If the guy had been wearing a clown costume and two-foot long shoes it couldn’t have looked more stupid.

Bale’s goal took the edge off the anger. Serbia’s third goal didn’t spark the same outrage – you sort of knew the game was up with the second goal, the third was greeted as absolute proof. The remaining three goals hardly registered.

Couldn’t bring myself to join the boos at the end of the match nor the ‘What a load of rubbish’ chant, though that was true. We even chanted ‘Ser-bee-ya’ as a mark of respect to our hosts. That’s how bad we felt.

Liked the dry comment in the second half: “What a waste of four quid!” (the price of the match ticket).

Chris Coleman

I was disappointed to hear ‘Coleman out’ chants just five games into a reign that began in circumstances that no one would wish on any manager. One of those games, you could argue, was Costa Rica which was more of a memorial service than a match.

Seems to me he has acted with genuine humility and real respect for the position. It needs to be repeated that he has taken on the post in the most appalling situation and needs to be given credit and time for that.

Surely it’s a man management nightmare. If he’s dealt with Diana conspiracy theorist Mohammed Al-Fayed on a regular basis while at Fulham, then he should have the credentials for the job.

But it’s also fair to wonder about a few decisions – as Ralph from Brno insists – why did he start Church wide left for two games? To no obvious effect. Will he persist with Morison up front.

Football fans’ increasing lust for what I call ‘lynchmobbery’, heads on plates after bad runs and easy target victims (why not blame the players ahead of Coleman?) has got progressively worse.

And the early knives out for Coleman are the last thing we need. If we are in crisis now – and arguably we are – then surely his departure would make it worse. Any new manager might think he’s only got 4/5 games to get results. The FAW would be revealed as a poor employer. Any good manager would surely not risk his reputation or even want the job.

Positives

1 If you were banking on watching Wales in Brazil, well looks like you’re five grand better off already.

2 Given we are effectively out of the running already – unless five wins come out of the next six games – there’s a great opportunity to skip the Belgium trip and save even more money. This is a personal view on the attractiveness of Brussels, having been threatened by police there in 1992.

Five at the back?

Is a four-man defence the future for Wales? Will Coleman consider five? We did it a few years back under a certain Mr Toshack – and we created far more chances back then than we have done recently. And missed pretty much all of them.

Legacy

I am still in Serbia at the time of writing, so know nothing of the reaction back home. But it seems to me this result is knocking the stuffing out of football in Wales.

We’ve already returned to the days of: “What are you watching Wales for?”, asked in a tone of eyebrow-raised astonishment. I had the chat with an Aussie friend last week and he wasn’t persuaded by my answer.

What’s worse is that there now seems to be a disconnect between our players and the public. The FAW have got a lot of things right over the last 10-12 years but the most interesting chat I had this week was with well-known Cardiff fan Corky.photo (3)

It was a surprise to hear from him that, running Trelewis kids’ football, he is struggling to get support from outside to promote soccer for about 20 kids.

Meanwhile the WRU machine rolls relentlessly on in his neighbourhood, bankrolled by an admirably efficient, well-oiled set-up. So Corky can’t compete with many clubs taking an interest in young children.

Recently the FAW has ramped up its marketing. ‘Time to Believe’ and all that. The Uefa Supercup coming to Cardiff. A glossy mag dished out with the Western Mail. I applaud that but it seems superficial to me. To a certain extent it has to be done, of course. But I am then left wondering if more support at grassroots might be the next priority in the more deprived areas of Wales.

So, say, instead of a game in November – surely the last thing we need – there needs to be a team-bonding and a ‘connectedness’. Take ’em to Trelewis, Mr Coleman.

This might bridge the other issue I think is a factor in recent Wales’s up and down performances and that’s the ‘disconnect’ between the players and the fans. Nothing new here in this argument. But, having returned to Wales after 20 years in England, it seems to me  that parts of the valleys are Second World in infrastructure and quality of life. Blaenau Gwent has one in six unemployed.

Contrast that with the lesser lights in this Wales team being capable of settling seven thousand pound bar bills on holiday I hear.

The FAW charge a fiver for kids’ tickets, they would say. Which is good, not knocking it. I’m not qualified to judge but I have noticed a lot of glossy marketing which is being fatally undermined by the poor results.

What now?

After the match, it was time for a drink (non-alcoholic – I didn’t succumb to temptation).

Next to the Novi Sad stadium is a fine bar called Camelot. Sitting there, it was hard not to conclude that after a night of such high disappointment at a game I genuinely thought we would win, we need an Excalibur-wielding King Arthur and his knights of the Round Ball to emerge to turn this around.

Because that’s what we need.

Another fine mess

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One of the more unusual Wales fans’ games  took place some 30 kilometres outside Belgrade yesterday.

Not only did 18 players and spectators get a two-police van escort to the match there and back, but the game officials were all female.

The police over here have been understandably jittery and appear to be on orders from up high to ensure no Welsh fan gets attacked – word is that attacks on a French fan sparked a determination that no more trouble can be tolerated.

And what a refreshing difference the female officials made – there were virtually no sniping comments made to them, not in my earshot anyway. And most decisions were taken with good grace.Female Serbian football officials

Maybe this the way forward for match officials at any level.

On the road, despite being fresh-ish from an 11-2 win last Friday, the team have usually been less effective.

So we’ll quickly gloss over a full account of the 7-1 thrashing to gush about the facilities of a ground seemingly in the back of beyond. FK Srem‘s ground was better than at least one Serbian Premiership ground I’ve been too and the players were very pleased with the quality of the pitch.

For the record, Aberystwyth hotshot Will Johnson scored for his eighth consecutive match for the team and with the Jocks coming up next month, there’s every chance of a ninth scoring game in a row.

* Picture of beauty and the beast (Neil Dymock) courtesy Gary Pritchard

Wales out of Eurofan2012j

The teams taking part
The teams taking part

WALES supporters bowed out in the last 16 stage of the Eurofans2012 tournament today.

Despite putting on a good showing after a very heavy night out, the team were beaten 3-1 by a useful Moldovan outfit who almost certainly got to bed a lot earlier than the Welsh side.

So for the fifth year in the row, the Welsh side left at an early stage but probably this was the best performance over the five years – both matches lost could have been won had chances been taken.

The Ukrainian-based competition in Lviv reaches its climax tomorrow with a final at 12.30pm before presentations in the city’s fan zone in the evening, and then the final of Euro 2012 in Kyiv.

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Wales at Eurofan2012

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About 30 Wales supporters are taking part in their fifth Eurofans tournament in Lviv.

After today’s matches, the squad visited a school in central Lviv to hand out football memorabilia, balls and clothes to youngsters. They also got a rendition of Mae Hen Wlad fy Nhadau.

Earlier in the day, the team played matches against Czech Republic fans and supporters of Slovakia in two 50-minute games.

Against the Czechs, the side lost 4-1, but came back strongly to defeat a poor Slovakia side 7-0, to earn a place in the last 16 of the tournament.

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Meic Stevens

The ‘Welsh Bob Dylan’ at Clwb Ifor. More like a Welsh Johnny
Cash as he shuffled on, taking quite a while to find his guitar
amid the instruments stashed behind the speakers.

Black leather coat, black trilby, black trousers and then, just
before start-up, a flourish and out with the black sunglasses.
It’s 10.30pm in March in Wales. Eh? Maybe he’s got sensitive
eyes.

Backed by a bassist and drummer it all started fairly well and
it was good to see a largely young audience paying homage to a
creature of the Sixties, feted as one of folk rock’s biggest
talents.

Mr Stevens, no longer a young whippet, had to struggle to make
himself heard between songs and his singing voice was
understandably muted but still poignant. Well he’s a folkie so
he’s not going to belt it out.

Having missed him first time round in the 70s and only seen one
song by him on S4C it was the perfect chance to see him.

But there was a warm welcome, respect . . . and disrespect.
Were people there just to be seen, or what?

After halfan hour, the twittering twentysomethings were
chuntering on so loudly throughout the songs that it became a
pointless exercise. Dozens of wittering twits drowned out the
act. So is he a legend? I don’t know cos I couldn’t hear him.

Time to go.

Wales 0 Costa Rica 1 – Gary Speed RIP

Gary Speed WalesLuxembourg City, November 1990

At  about 2am, after we’d beaten Luxembourg 1-0 in a Euro 92 qualifier, through an Ian Rush goal, Clayton Blackmore  being sent off early, fans and players bumped into each other at a nightclub.

Blackmore, wolfishly good-looking in his early 20s and apparently not too bothered by a dismissal which caused me to suffer a chronic stomach ache and what appeared to be early-onset Parkinson’s for the rest of the match, then spent the night dancing groin-to-groin with a local lassie as half the Welsh team celebrated a not-very-momentous win.

The club shut. A posse of fans sauntered drunkenly  towards their beds. Gary Speed and Malcolm Allen  somehow found themselves walking alongside us. I pulled out my vuvuzela, the first one ever seen in Wales and Luxembourg I wager, and blew it hard – the sound reverberated up and down the road. Seemed like a great idea at the time.

We passed it around and  Gary Speed gave us a parp. Gary Speed, glassily smiling what became his trademark smile, blew my horn. Aged 20 at the time, there was no visible ego (unusual in footballers I’ve since learnt),  no airs, no graces. He just seemed like a nice lad. Words that seem to have been uttered ever since by every who knew him.

I never met him again.

November 27, 2011

Gary Speed found dead. While shocked, for some reason this death spoke to me through the death of a very close friend who took his own life in a very similar manner in 2006. My thoughts were less of Gary Speed and more of my pal – the death rattled the senses and defied belief. A sense of being shaken violently stayed with me for a month back in 2006.

In the days that followed, amid the grief, quite clearly fans  were enduring the same shock and having the same thought processes and experiencing a sense of bewilderment. The memory of it really does stay with you forever.

Leckwith Stadium, Cardiff. Feb 29, 2012, 4.30pm. Wales fans v Costa Rica fans

With 25 minutes to go the life support machine for a number three Wales kit, that’s me, came on. Geraint from Bala directed me to mark Senor M Vargas with the words: “He’s their biggest threat.” Not what you want to hear when you’re going to celebrate (wrong word) your 50th birthday later in the year. Sr Vargas started the psychological brain jamming immediately

Sr Vargas: You like lamb?

Me: Of course, with mint sauce. Where’ve you come from today?

Sr Vargas: Bournemouth, it’s lovely.

Me: De donde eres? (Where are you from?)

Sr Vargas: San Jose, Costa Rica.

Me: Nicer than Bournemouth?

Sr Vargas: Of course.

Luckily the Ticos omitted to feed Sr Vargas the ball for the entire 25 minutes so he never got to embarrass me. But a tense last few minutes ensued as one of his team-mates got clobbered by S4C’s Tim Hartley  who swung and missed the ball in the box, clattering an attacker with a kick that would have felled a camel and then swore blind it wasn’t a penalty. From three yards away I felt it couldn’t have been a clearer spot-kick and Sr Vargas dispatched it to make it 2-1 to us.

We clung on for a deserved victory. Our female keeper had to go off injured in the second half injuring her foot in a brilliant stop and Greg from Aber, after a mad dash to the game, stepped into the breach to seal a not-very-heroic but strangely satisfying triumph.

The match was played for the John Hartson Foundation and Gol charities and, of course, with Gary Speed at the front of our minds. Donate here at http://www.justgiving.com/walesfansvcostarica

6.15pm, Gol Centre, Cardiff.

The charming Costa Rican Ambassador to Britain, Pilar Saborio de Rocafort, bought 20 quid’s worth of raffle tickets and enthused about what a wonderful occasion the day had been, bringing Costa Ricans together for a rare chance to see their side play and also spread goodwill.

Having met many of the Costa Ricans in Cardiff for the match, it has to be said they brought a welcome colour and humility to the day. Any chance of a return fixture please? Not in Bournemouth, but in San Jose.

7.45pm, Cardiff City Stadium

A three-month cloud hovered over what must be the most unanticipated match in Welsh football history. Usually, as fans, we’re mad for it. This time we were mad for it to be over.

That was the feeling beforehand anyway. But as the evening progressed there was plenty to savour and in every respect the tone of events was spot on.

What a great job the FAW did. The association’s handling of the last three months was respectful and considerate and deserves great credit.

And it says much for the FAW”s measured, appropriate responses that the match was all anyone could have asked for. There was no wallowing  in mawkish recollections, just simple gestures genuinely felt and warmly expressed.

Nice touches everywhere – from the ‘Gary’ spelt out on the Canton Stand (those of us holding up coloured sheets were trying to figure out what we were showing), to the male voice choir, to the employment of a World Cup Final ref, Howard Webb, it all struck the right, respectful note.

The teenagers’ ‘Shoes off for Gary Speed’ in the Canton stand was welcome relief – why do they do this? – as were the opposition. Let’s face it, we were hoping for someone more illustrious but on reflection it was entirely fitting to end where Gary Speed had started.

Costa Rica turned up to give us a game, scoring at a time when perhaps Welsh players’ minds weren’t entirely focused. Why would they be? The Ticos were quite rugged, could have had a second goal and seemed more cohesive compared to us. In contrast we played too many lateral balls and without Aaron Ramsey and Gareth Bale, the team was shorn of direct attacking menace.

Craig Bellamy, distraught at a pal’s death and facing speculation about this being his last game for his country, quite frankly deserves a medal just for turning out.

The personal and psychological pressure on him must have been immense. He took it all on board and once again, unlike others who’ve turned their backs on their country, strode out to give his all.

Should he pack Wales in, his reasons are pretty much beyond question. Should he stay, then let’s just him appreciate his crazy energy and manic passion for the game for as long as it lasts. He’s the closest we’ll ever get to a Maradona character.

The Human Firework has been a positive force of nature ever since he headed the remarkable  winner in Denmark in 1998 through to his goal against Italy in 2002 and his evident on-field leadership of the last couple of years. Not to mention his charity work in Africa.

It would be great if he clung on to see if Welsh football finally comes of age by qualifying for a tournament. If we do, it won’t be because of Gary Speed, who inherited the nucleus of a half-decent side, made good decisions after mediocre early results and appeared to have us on the right road.

It will be down to factors influenced by him, key players turning up,  continuing to turn up and luck in games to come.

But whatever happens in the next two years, there is a guiding light and a strange sense of destiny hovering over the side. Whatever is achieved will be for Gary Speed.

Cadwch y ffydd