Perhaps this night was something of a victory after all!
Flagshagger boss Tommy Tuchel said: ‘If you hear just Wales fans for half an hour, it’s sad because the team deserved more support.
‘I would have wished for a bit more support in phases where it gets difficult. In the second half to get behind us, there was a bit too much support for Wales.’
At 11.30pm I bumped into Porthmadog man about town Tommie Collins under the monstrous statue of Alexander the Great (see above) and said I thought we’d played well.
A not untypical torrent of, er, extreme disagreement came back my way and Tommie – ruddy about the face – got even ruddier it seemed in the dark, and strode off. Nice off-pink jacket by the way, Mr Collins, where can I get one?
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I was. Perhaps we were both right.
Continue reading Karma chameleons – North Macedonia 1 Wales 1
At squeaky bum time (45 minutes) nobody would’ve put Ben Davies down as the guy to rustle up a goal to calm everyone’s heebie-jeebies, screaming abdabs or chronic collywobbles.
Fantastic goal line clearances, yes. Brilliant last-ditch tackle, check. Fifty yard 70mph chase and snaffle, aye.
Goal, no.
My, times have changed.
Here in the cetacean centre of the world, for one wonderful first half Craig Bellamy gave Wales a strong sense of porpoise, only to get harpooned in a crazy second half.
MAX, the one-armed Armenian outdoor snooker supremo, was busy honing his skills as we strolled through Yerevan’s Victory Park.
Aged about 45, dressed in a blue shell suit and sporting three days’ bristle on his chin, he was the custodian of a tatty building with rotting timbers. Two pool tables stood on the grimy verandah.
This was Yerevan’s fabled outdoor snooker centre – a shanty town shack that looked ready to fall down.
A hundred yards away on top of a hill overlooking the city, a 100-foot high steel statue of Mother Armenia, surrounded by a tank, missile launcher and other armoured vehicles, stood sentinel over the capital.
Continue reading Outdoor snooker in Yerevan – Armenia 2 Wales 2 (2001)
Crumbling tenements, potholes in all the roads, a delapidated stadium and some of the most lacerating poverty I’ve ever seen. It could only mean one thing. We were in the back of beyond watching the Welsh under-21s again.
The Greatest Fans in the World hired a fleet of taxis for the 20-minute trip to Abovian – that’s Abovian, not Aberfan – to see if our boys could record their first win in howevermany matches it is (someone reckons it’s 16, but, like the u-21 players, none of us particularly care).
Continue reading The Road to Abovian – Armenia 1 Wales 0 (2001)
At the first floor Sheraton bar, Mark Hughes (72 caps, 16 goals) was being berated by a fan. “What the fuck have you ever done for Welsh football? We’ve done fuck all in the last ten years.”
Consternation. One of the greatest figures in the history Welsh football was copping a mouthful. Remember, this was his first game in sole charge of the national team.
A fan – I’ll call him The Camel, not because he drinks like one, but because he’ll get the hump if named – continued ranting.
The coach, Mark Bowen (41 caps, three goals) tried to intervene with a view to calming matters, whatever they were, down.
Continue reading O Camel ye faithful – Qatar v Wales (pt two)
IN FEBRUARY 2000 the Welsh football team was a shellshocked shitshow that would have given Michael Sheen shingles.
Wales were stranded in a seemingly permanent existential crisis, marooned in terms of self-regard and status – people openly scorned fans as being idiots for going to, say, Moldova, which they had hitherto thought was some type of cheese.
She nailed it. My pal Anya, 33, from Kyiv, first game ever, said after 85 minutes: “You guys need to practise scoring.”
Continue reading Gherkins and the Golden Boot – Ukraine 1 Wales 0
In the middle of Kyiv, 50 yards away from the Khreshatyk tube station is a restaurant/pub whose name escapes me.
On the menu are listed the usual starters, main courses, desserts, wines and half a page devoted to . . . chewing gums.
Continue reading Chew, what a scorcher – Ukraine 1 Wales 1 (2001)
Well, 725 fans are slowly making their way to Zenica – aka Port Talbot in the mountains.
A privilege to witness the best party poop ever.
Continue reading Biggar batters England – Wales 28 England 25
Miles from Nowhere 