August 2015: VIPs v Créteil

It had only seemed like five minutes since we had recovered from the trip back from our Summer holiday in France and I was setting off again. It was the overnight bus this time as everything had been booked late. Alex was to be joining me but he was travelling by Eurostar...thanks to shopping at Tesco, who offered him money off whenever he shopped there. Me? Our family shopped at Morrisons who offered vouchers for school gardening and money off petrol but not trains!
Having recovered from moving a wall in the garden and then building a pond with Odessa, I was finally able to get packed and set off at 10:30, after enjoying a celebratory meal for Holly's exam results. The rest of the house were heading for bed as I closed the front door and there was a big part of me wondering what I was doing. When the Metro in front broke down with 25 minutes to my bus leaving, I wondered even more as I raced to find a taxi into Newcastle.
The bus ride down to London wasn't as easy as I had remembered to sleep on, as my head kept bouncing off the window every time the lens scarf I was using a pillow slipped from under me. Add to that my neighbour who kept nodding off then shouting every time he came back to reality before making wild jerking movements....Oh and the coach was hot! Damn Hot! This was not relaxing!
Arriving in Lens 16 hours later I had to find Alex, check in at our Campanile before I finally could shower away the sweat and aches from the journey. Bruno came to collect us because we were late for our date with the press. Complimentary beers from Bruno certainly helped any aches and pains. The two reporters from La Voix du Nord who met at Bruno's restaurant seemed pleased with their photos and our answers after we had twittered on to them about our Lens traditions: sending each other pictures of yellow and red objects, planning journeys at the start of the season for April or May, the chats we have during live feeds from the games and finally my red and yellow trainers and socks: they were most impressed...but in a professional way: like a scientist studying a strange species.

Finally it was time to head to the stadium but Bruno had one more trick up his sleeve with a meeting with Club President and Mr Lens himself, Gervais Martel! Also, they had arranged for me to receive a shirt with my name on: you had to scrape me off the ceiling: could this evening get any better?
Every turn we were greeted by young ladies in black cocktail dresses and red or yellow neck scarves, all welcoming you with a friendly "Bonjour!"

Excuse me....what are they?

We headed to the inner sanctum that was only for invited guests of Gervais himself. Complimentary drinks, food and piano player...good job I had a shower before I left the hotel!
Next it was up to the seats and the Marek sounded even better from here and the white padded leather was certainly a change from the plastic bucket seats we were used to. Only half of the VIP seats were ready so our part of the Lepagnot looked a bit empty but the rest of the stadium was full. Only the top tier of the Trannin end had not been opened. The Lens fans had got behind the team and the club now more than their last drop into the depths of Ligue 2 when crowds struggled to break the 15000 level.
The team responded in a way they hadn't the previous weekend and went on the attack straight away. They were rewarded when Christian Bekamenga deflected the ball past the visiting keeper. Alex and I leapt about as if we were on the Marek while around us the celebrations were still in evidence but in a slightly calmer fashion. The visitors, who had won their first two games of the season, were on the back foot and it would have been even better if Nomanjanahary hadn't had his double effort saved by the keeper then the post.
More drink and food arrived in the interval as we waved our VIP wristbands at the be-scarfed ladies in cocktail dresses. We felt like Wayne and Garth in Wayne's World flashing their laminates as they sent off backstage at the Alice Cooper concert.

Selfies with our buddie,
Gervais, in the background.

In the second half, Lens tired and let Creteil back in. A slow pass out of defence was chased down for Pereira to score and the nervousness returned to the team. Not that the fans allowed that to worry them as they continued to sing their hearts out.
However at one point the stadium held its breath as a mistake in the Lens defence allowed Créteil's Pereira a run on goal. Delle, in the Lens goal was caught in two minds and the forward burst past him before rolling the ball towards the empty net. The pessimists in the crowd, myself included, expected it to nestle into the four corner of the net but...miraculously it trickled past both posts and to safety. Although, at the final whistle the fans whistled their disapproval, Lens still were unbeaten and improving with each game: all they had to do now was play for the full game and not run out of juice after 75 minutes.
Disappointed, the players forgot to thank the fans before they headed for the dressing room but once the Marek had sung "Where are the Lens players?" or a rough translation of that, they re-emerged to massive applause and were relieved of their shirts by the grateful throng. One lad in front of us even ended up with a pair of shorts...not sure I would have gone that far.........of course I would have!

Caught on camera, Alex and I applaud the players off...

Bruno then took us on a tour of the parts of the VIP areas that were open and we had a chance to meet the great Captain Siko, saviour of the club after the Jean-Louis Garcia nonsense. He was an extremely modest man, especially when I reminded him of that fact. We also got to meet another famous former player, however the subsequent amounts of alcohol that were incurred that evening impaired my memory of his name...answers on a postcard please...Alex?

Alex in VIP room number 3

Alex managed to get his friend to smile....
mine wasn't quite so helpful...was it the beard?

We also finally got to meet up with fellow Englishman Taylor Moore who, despite not getting onto the pitch for the second game out of three was still amazingly happy, in love with the club and proud that his younger brother was playing for the youth team. He also hinted his other brothers might be joining...could this be the beginning of a new dynasty at the club, akin to the Hazard clan (even though two of them played for Lille)? Let's hope so.

The inner sanctum. Always the last to leave....but what a night!
Glad to say the pianist kept going!

A fond farewell to an amazing ground! 

We walked back with Bruno and our new other best friend Jean Philippe, manager of Bruno's restaurants. J-P even had time to help a drunk who had been sleeping soundly on the pavement until he was awoken by the combined efforts of JP and the lady from a nearby shop. The ambulance soon arrived to take him away and allow him to escape their attentions.
We bid our farewells after an amazing evening and then met up with Jeremie who accompanied us to our final port of call: La Loco. The evening finished two and a half hours later in the best possible fashion.

Satisfied and happy!

August 2015: Back to Bollaert!

Packed onto the Eurotunnel and ready for the off!

It was family holiday time and for the first time since August 2011 that the whole family would have the chance of sharing a Lens game with me. Since then, family holidays had failed to coincide with the Ligue 2 (and briefly 1) fixtures, despite my best efforts.
Unfortunately, as we set off for France, tickets still had not gone on sale. Thanks to the kindness of Pascal, who was away on a family holiday for the game, I was at least guaranteed a spot in the Marek but the rest of the girls didn't have places. Another search for places, reminiscent of the Bordeaux game in 2009, would have to take place.

Arnauld....Dude #1

My first stroke of good luck occurred the minute we began pitching our tent up near La Rochelle when Jas spotted the 62 (Lens region) number plate on the car opposite. The owner immediately came out to chat the second he spotted our Lens paraphernalia. I don't know who was more excited about meeting the other.
"....you are from Newcastle, " he said, "There are a lot of Lens fans there....?"
"Just me," I replied.
"Really? Are you the one from the Sofoot.com article? " I nodded. "It is like meeting a celebrity!" he joked.

Wot? No footie bars?
No surprise but I always have hope!

For the next few days we would take every opportunity to chat about Lens and the latest news, and some actual signings, before his family returned North. He also promised to see if he could get tickets for the rest of my family but couldn't promise anything.
The following Saturday was the first day of the season so after quickly finding a list of bars that had Beinsport I abandoned the family to look at the aquarium for some selfish dad-time. My first port of call was my best option as it was called the Sports Cafe. Unfortunately it was in the city's casino and one look at my Lens top was enough for the nice boys by the door to decide I wasn't the sort of clientelle they wanted so I set off with the help of google maps and their directions to the next bar on the list...an Irish Bar! Had to be a good sign?
With the sun beating down and a blistering 30 degree temperature proving slightly unhelpful in my frantic dash across, I ended up going from closed down bar to closed-until-6pm bar to "get away from our bar.... we don't like football here!" By the time half time arrived I had resigned myself to listening to the commentary from the club website. When will I learn about ligue 2 football + bars + me didn't work? Probably never - still I will keep trying.
The last 20 minutes of the game was spent wandering around La Rochelle, with an earplug in one ear listening to the commentary of a one-sided 0-0 draw, whilst searching with the girls for an ice cream shop of choice: slightly easier to do! Ernest le Glacier it had to be...and a fitting reward for my attempts at finding a bar. Relieved that Lens had escaped from Metz with a goalless draw, and could even have won it, my thoughts shifted to the following week's game and how Arnauld was doing with his search for tickets.
A couple of days later, a text arrived from Arnauld and he had managed to come up trumps with prized tickets for the game in the Marek. What a stroke of luck it had been meeting him! I was overjoyed even if the girls were not sure about going in with the "Mental heads". A great compliment to the Lens fans from Jasmine there, I thought!

Morning in Equihen Plage!

Match day finally arrived and when I finally stepped out of our tent in Equihen Plage near Boulogne (I had been awake since 6am) the sun was beginning to heat things up nicely...if a little too nicely.
We set off from near Boulogne at 9:30 to witness the parade and arrived without problem, finally parking in the car park in front of the steps that led to the Marek. The ground looked amazing nestling between the trees as the sun increased its temperature. It was going to be a hot one!
Heading off to the station, the family were in a good mood and were quite happy to be joining me as a surged to get everywhere quicker. I chatted briefly to Jonathan, the game's Capo as he headed to lead the parade along with a number of others who I had met at previous Worldnet tournaments. The girls had become used to this and simply carried on chatting amongst themselves as I 'networked'.

The square outside of La Loco was a sea of red and yellow and the crowd kept building as my friend Loulou and Jonathan took it in turns, hanging out of the bar window to get everyone jumping. Finally the parade set off but we remained at the bar as hunger had taken hold of the family and wouldn't let go...no contest for the parade!

A happy , well-fed,family

Holly had brought along a gluten-free baguette and the La Loco staff were kindly willing to prepare her a gluten-free tuna sandwich while Odessa (and I) were finally able to lay to bed the nightmares of the MacDonald's fillet of fish. At last we had found a place in the town where we were all happy!

Is this the
 male toilets?

After picking up the tickets from Arnauld and Pascal's friend Denis we headed into the Marek. It took a bit of getting used to the new ticket entry system but eventually we were in and it was a relief to be out of the sun that was beating down strongly now. We wandered through the newly laid-out stand and it became apparent that there was now no chance for anyone sneaking into the Marek having bought a Xerxes ticket as they now had separate sections with tall, metal walls to keep ticket holders apart. With the Marek once again all season ticket, we would have to think of a plan C or D if we were to join in the fun...
We managed to get a spot next to the barrier at the Delacourt end and so the flag was attached to the fence. It was also clear that the sun was going to be a big factor as the girls began to wilt even before the game started. They perked up as the teams entered and the Lensois was sung...

After the fervour of the players entrance and reception, the Lens team that had only four returnees from the previous year, and disgracefully no Taylor Moore, struggled to match the occasion and it was visitors Red Star who were making the running and showing great ability in falling over to earn themselves a string of undeserved (IMHO) freekicks while also getting a number of Lens players booked for their innocuous tackles. There was no such thing as a homer ref today!
Disbelief soon followed when Red Star scored a spectacular freekick from a similarly dodgy freekick. Yet the Lens crowd continued to cheer them on...as expected. However, as the sun continued to beat down, both players and fans found the going harder and it looked more unlikely that Lens would create many chances.
Out of the players on show only new boy Besle looked to have the composure and ability to deal with the situation and although Valdivia beavered about, he didn't seem to be able to create anything against a Red Star defence that now sat back and watched Lens' laboured attacks. A header that just slipped wide of the post from another new boy, Autret, seemed to be all that Lens could offer before a brief scramble in front of the goal ended up with nothing.
Jasmine and Holly were by now baking and even a pint of water each couldn't do much. The chances of this kind of weather in future matches would hardly by an issue yet the lack of shade from the sun was one my girls obviously would have to mention to any available health and safety officer...along with Lens' performance but that would probably be a different department: mental health.
Things needed to change and on came Nomanjanahary to be joined later by another newbie Scarramozino. Finally the team, and Autret in particular, woke up as both wingers began to bomb down the wing more frequently. The referee continued to be conned by the dives of the Parisians and his book began to fill up with Len players' names. To the crowds annoyance, he booked the Lens players for diving too...definitely not a homer...or even any good.

Finally the ground erupted when Autret controlled a ball before lashing a fine shot past the keeper from just inside the penalty area. with renewed vigour the home team attacked, however it was still worrying how often Red Star's tricky wingers managed to work their way into space. A late winner for either team didn't look out of the question. There was great relief from my lot as the referee blew the final whistle: more from the extreme heat rather than the thought of Red Star scoring and they headed straight for the cover of the trees outside as heat stroke and dehydration took hold. I had to cancel my post-match pub meetings as the family recovered. If only the team's performance could have been matched by the  occasion ...

After a busy, hot and tiring day...
relaxing in Les Jardins D'Arcadie

Once the girls had recovered we headed to a restaurant that we had a booking with. With Holly unable to eat gluten, meals out have to be organised in advance. This time we opted for a restaurant on the outskirts of the town that promised to offer gluten-free options. They were true to their word and more.
We felt decidedly underdressed as we entered the car park. Although we hadn't booked until 7pm we decided to spend an hour recovering in the grounds and when the owner came at to see who we were tormenting the cat that was wandering around the flowerbeds, he was straight away impressed with our battered Lens-decorated Citroen Picasso and he revealed himself to have been at the match today as well. He insisted on taking our photo with it and by the end of our meal, his photo had received over 250 likes on Facebook. The meal itself was thoroughly enjoyed by all of us, which was saying something with teenage girls. When it was time to go, the owner, Bruno announced that since I was coming back for Friday's game that me and Alex would be his VIP guests. I was so blown away by this I got caught speeding.
This trip had been another success for the generosity of Lens fans...not only had Pascal offered me his ticket, Arnaud had found me the others but to top it all, Bruno, had offered a dream chance for me to visit my Mekka as a VIP....watch this space! I can hardly wait...

July 18/19th July 2015 - Worldnet Tournament - Preston

The last successful Lens campaign led by coach Pascal in 2007

In 2012, I made my first appearance for the Lens B team at the Worldnet supporter's tournament and this year was my fourth consecutive appearance at the competition. However in that time, despite having taken part in more than 10 games, I was still waiting for my first win. apart from this, playing in the competition has always been a great privilege and an incident-packed weekend: basically big kids pretending to play for their favourite club....what's mot to like? My first trip was to Leeds but then it moved to Preston. During this time, the Lens A team had desperately tried to repeat their glories of 2007 and 2011, when they won the competition.

This year promised to be more of the same with Frenchmen wandering around Preston repeating one of the phrases they had been given to use:
 "We are French, we do not speak English. We are here for a football tournament." being their favourite.
This year I had been called upon to mediate with the Holiday Inn, Preston to sort out some accommodation for the lads, and a few lasses, as coach Pascal had had to put family first and stay in France. This did mean, however, that he didn't stop asking constantly for updates as his passion for the teams still carried across the channel. I managed to sort out a mixture of twin and double rooms so the party would either have to be very good friends or bring a sleeping bag: most opted for the latter.

Setting off at 6:30 may have seemed early to some but this was nothing compared to the Lens teams and their supporters who had set off from La Loco pub, Lens at 8pm on Friday night to get a middle of the night ferry from Calais to Dover. Unfortunately delays in Calais meant that when I arrived in Preston at 9am Saturday morning, the teams were still two hours away. Fellow Brit Lens fan, Adrian had also arrived to cheer on Les Sang et Or teams.
When they finally arrived all that was forgotten as both sides stepped onto the pitch. The A team were drawing 1-1 against Real Maroon as we set off for our first game against Troon. There seemed to be no problems with "bus legs" as the lads on the B team took the game to the Scots and midway through the second half they were rewarded with a great goal.

I can run...!

With five minutes left, it was my time to come on and, put on in right midfield, my only hope was that I wouldn't embarrass myself or gift the opposition a chance. Unlike my previous few years the new bearded coaching duo had seen it wise to keep me away from the defence and that suited me fine. In the last five minutes I did what I do best: run. I chased and harried, ran off the ball and without touching the ball once probably had my most productive five minutes of team football and I was pleased with the number of times that I stopped the defence from having time on the ball: I was football's Forrest Gump!

A proud man....great off the ball runner....hopeless with it!

"This lot are .......!" But we are winning. Ha!

My first victory in the first game and my first ever in a Worldnet tournament. The bearded coaching duo shook every hand as they left the pitch and I felt my running had been worthwhile. The team morale soared. After that the game against Runcorn followed a similar vein: a 1-0 win and a supersub appearance up front. I finally touched the ball with limited success but I ran...and ran. The bad-tempered Runcorn team kept shouting "This lot are shit..." but we were still winning and I was still running, forcing errors. Every time I chased down the ball, the lads on the touchline cheered me on: a new and very pleasant experience. At the final whistle I felt great delight at shaking hands with the miserable Scousers who had shouted and argued their way through the game. We were now joint top of the group with Darlington: unheard of for the B team. The A team had registered a draw in their first game and followed that up with a 4-1 win in their second so everyone was jubilant.

Allez les Sang et Or!

For the final group game I was given the honour of a place in the starting line-up. So in the first few minutes...I ran and hassled. I like to think that when a cross came in from the right wing it was my running that made the defender make a complete hash of his clearance and it ended up in his own goal, looping beautifully over his stranded and bewildered keeper. That is the story that I will bore my grandchildren with anyway. I came off near to half time but had done my bit, was grateful for the breather and congratulated by all the others as I left the field. Acceptance in the team had taken four years to come but finally I had made it! To add to that we were top of the league with our third 1-0 win. There was also an outing for Adrian, who was rewarded for his support along the touchline, joining in with the Anglicised chant of "We love you Racing, we do...". Always popular!
Another tradition for Preston is for 20+ Frenchmen to arrive en mass at the local Indian restaurant EastzEast, on a Saturday night, without a booking and order mixed grill and chips. We always try to introduce them to the idea of having some kind of sauce or rice, although the idea of cider, mojitoes, naan bread, popadoms and pickles seems to be gradually gaining quicker popularity: although not all at once! After that Adrian and I left the French to visit one of the local nightspots to brave the last train back to Adrian's which was just as entertaining as their night out; with pensioners vs teenagers arguments and fights, singing and swaying Scots, a bemused policeman or two who tried to be as low key as possible ("just don't notice us, please!") along with a whole train full of loud, pissed up individuals. What more could you want?
There were sore heads galore the next day, however both teams made it through their respective last sixteen rounds. Team B beating Bury B 2-0 and final run around up front for yours truly while the A team were locked with last year's winners Halifax and had to go to a golden goal period of extra time which was the cue for great celebrations...

That was to be my final memory of Worldnet 2015 as I had to put family first with my mum's birthday and head back to Tyneside for a family meal. The lads were all very understanding as I wished them all luck and the phrase "family comes first" seemed to be well understood by them and respected: it made it easier for me to leave. As the oldest member of the team, a sprightly 45-year-old, I had been extremely pleased with  my contributions, realistic about my own skill levels and despite being the outsider, I was made to feel a valued part of the group, which just reflected the way I had been treated on my visits to Lens.
In my absence the B team were beaten by eventual winners Preston but by no means disgraced in their quarter final. The A team made it through to the semi-final where they too were beaten by Preston. As per usual, the Lens players and supporters managed get more attention than the winners and make more friends along the way simply because of their joie-de-vivre and freedom from a sense of English reserve. Of course they wanted to win the tournament but once the smoke had settled on the disappointment of their elimination, they did what they did best and that was enjoy themselves in the same way they did in every league and cup game. I was sorry to miss out on this but it would only be three weeks until the return to the Stade Felix Bollaert and I couldn't wait...and neither could they!