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!