August 2009:
Bordeaux (a)
What wasn’t
there to like? We go on holiday as usual to France and somewhere along the way
we watch a Lens game? Seemed quite straightforward to me! What better game
could we want to see for our first Lens game than the Champions of Ligue 1
against the newly promoted Champions of Ligue 2? The ferry had been booked long
before, in the cold winter evenings, however booking campsites was delayed
until I knew where Lens were to play. The family knew nothing of my scheme and
I prayed Lens would be playing somewhere the family would find appealing…
Sure enough
a trip to Bordeaux beckoned. Still unaware of my plan, I sold them the holiday
plan: a few days near Tours (maybe a Ligue cup game there?) then to the
Dordogne for a week – everyone says how nice it is – followed by a week in
Bordeaux before home! Perfect! I made sure our visit to the Bordeaux region
coincided with the whole of the weekend, just in case television reared its
ugly face and moved the game! A campsite near Arcachon seemed just the spot!
Game on!
As the
holiday grew nearer tickets were bought for Tours – Le Havre in the Coupe de la
Ligue but there was still nothing on the subject of the Bordeaux game. The
online booking office had no links to buy tickets so I continued to wait but
become more and more anxious as our departure approached. I kept consulting
Bordeaux’s attendances during their championship winning season and was able to
relax slightly when I saw they hadn’t sold any home games out. Why should they
sell out now? This relaxed state never lasted long as the thought of not
getting to the game ate away at me. I was being tested…that was it! Someone was
testing the lengths I would go to get tickets to the game. Researching the
situation I discovered that tickets were usually sold in local supermarkets.
All I had to do was get tickets when I got there! Simple! But we weren’t going
to be in Bordeaux until the day of the game…what if it was sold out by then?
Aaaaah! Panic grabbed me once again.
There still
hadn’t been anything on the Bordeaux website as the ferry left St Malo. I had
even brought my laptop (saying that the children could watch videos on it as we
drove: devious) so that I could check where ever I found an internet café. Yet
despite numerous daily visits to check – still nothing on the website!!!!!
Tours came
from behind to beat Le Havre – two goals from their striker, Olivier Giroud yet
I was now bound for greater things, hopefully. The day we were due to leave the
Loire region and our base in the town of Saumur I suddenly had the genius idea
of asking the tourist information to help me! They could ring up…I’d write my
address down for them….they could speak French on my behalf. My own French was
ok but I didn’t think for one minute that I would be able to complete a credit
card transaction over the phone. They could do it!
On a
sweltering afternoon and after an uncomfortable bike ride, I left my fractious
family with ice creams under a tree as I headed into Sarlat’s air conditioned
Office de Tourisme. Adjusting my eyes from the bright sunshine outside I took a
look at who to ask…the cross and extremely serious looking older lady? Maybe
not. The young, attractive girl who smiled as I came in…? Got to be worth a
try.
So, I headed
up to the counter and explained my predicament. She looked around nervously
then agreed as I handed over the telephone number and my name and address. The
sweat dripped down me as I became more nervous. I kept on wiping my clammy hands
as she finally got through to the Bordeaux ticket office. By the way she kept
on having to repeat everything a few times I assumed either she had a bad line
or on the other end was the kind of ticket office worker I had known in English
grounds during the 1980s and 90s – an old man who had little desire to sell
anyone any tickets if they couldn’t put the exact cash on the counter.
Yet she
seemed to be making headway! She turned to me and said would I mind sitting
near the away fans? I was doing mental somersaults but had to appear cool –
didn’t want to raise suspicion – after all I had no idea whether we would be
thrown out if there was even a whiff of a red and yellow shirt. That would be
fine, I replied calmly so she continued relaying information. After what seemed
an age she finally put the phone down and told me where to collect the tickets
and what I would need to prove my identity. I wanted to pull her over the
counter and embrace her when she had finished, invite her to meet the family
she had consigned to another evening’s football or maybe just come around to
our tent for dinner…She wasn’t having any of it: she had no idea how excited
she had made me by simply buying some tickets!
The family
were less thrilled as I leapt outside under the disapproving scrutiny of the
older lady. They were still sat under the tree, in a car park…and next to a
bin…looked decidedly bored, fed up and wilting fast.
“I’ve got
the tickets they’re right next to the away end…” I jabbered but they all looked
at me with vacant stares.
“Can we go
to the pool, now!” my youngest cried, stressing the word now while
the eldest screamed for a drink with similar emphasis on the word now.
My excitement could wait as Odessa gave me one of those withering stares she
could conjure up at will. Mounting our bikes once more we slowly made our back
to the campsite (and the pool): there was time for their excitement to
mount…perhaps.
The highlight of our next campsite, in the Dordogne, was our neighbours –
Lens supporters: in the flesh! A couple with their daughter and her son –
Mattieux. In our honour they dressed him up one day in his mini Lens kit.
Disappointingly, he took greater delight in his cars and trucks: once again
there would be time for Lens fever to grip him….
Bordeaux town centre was even more exciting with the prospect of the Lens
game at the end. The football fan’s touristic shot in front of the Monument aux
Girondins was taken, the girls, and boy, played in the Miroir d’eau as the
watery mists swirled around them, waffles were eaten on the promenade as we
watched the endless parade of skateboarders and roller skaters doing their
tricks and all the while the sun beat down triumphantly. Football in France
once again had come up trumps!
The excitement mounted as we boarded the packed trams heading to the
Stade Chaban-Delemis. Football fans freely mingling outside a stadium is a
fantastic sight with the pageantry of colours that can go with them. The stadium
itself had a definite continental feel to it – with its Spanish Taverna Art
Deco appearance even down to the white washed walls of the toilets, not that the
family appreciated the architecture on display – apparently they smelt!
I was
extra excited being next to the Lens fans as our area was split fifty-fifty
between home and away fans. The match was a sideshow…I was in awe! From the
short and cap-wearing kapo leading the fans in their support of the visitors to
the scarf waving anthems, every one of them joined in. The fans in our section kept
up an extremely friendly atmosphere even when Bordeaux scored there was
appreciation of the football scored, yet the rivalries still remained intact
and when the Lens forward Jemaa dived full length to head in the equaliser
there was applause from both sides, although more vigorous and energetic from les
Lensois. Unfortunately for me the goal had been at the other end of the ground
and I had been distracted at the crucial moment so never actually saw my first
ever Lens goal. But I was contented watching the celebrations to my left. To
add to this…the sun was still peaking over the stands, making the crowd glow
red. Although I would have loved to have stood in the Lens section, today was
one for soaking up and simply appreciating the spectacle.
The second
half was spoilt by Bordeaux taking the lead but that didn’t bother the Lens
fans who continued without missing a beat or a flag movement. There was a brief
moment of joy when the ball was headed into the Bordeaux net, however my
celebrations were cut short by the linesman’s flag. A heart-warming pat on my back
from the home fan next to me and a conciliatory Frenchman’s shrug helped me
relax again. I hadn’t expected or considered witnessing anything more than I had
done already today. My faith in both football and its supporters had been
restored: I had felt relaxed, inspired, amazed, thrilled and welcomed by this
crowd. Yes I had wanted to sing and join in but no-one had shouted at me for
not doing so or minded my nationality. I could be who I wanted to be: passionate but
respecting. Wasn’t that football was supposed to be about?
By the end of normal time, it was becoming
apparent that Lens were flagging and so were my girls. It was quarter to eleven
and way past bedtimes. Everyone had given their all and there was no disgrace
losing at the home of the
champions, so I gave in to their pleading eyes and we headed for the tram as we
headed into injury time. The night was still comfortably warm as we headed away:
there was a further roar as we reached the bottom of the concrete stairs and a
quick look up at the celebrating home fans confirmed that it had not been an
equaliser. This was followed by a similar roar, a disappointing end to a
battling performance.
Life was
indeed sweet.
April 2010:
Boulogne (h)
When your
wife has been going on about decorating rooms in the house for an extended
amount of time, there is only one thing to be done…offer to take the children
away for a little while so that she can get on unhindered….but where to go?
So it was on
the middle week of the Easter holidays that me, Holly and Jas set off for Lens.
To earn brownie points I helped strip the walls and prepare them so that Odessa
didn’t have as much of the dirty work to do and could enjoy the painting…after
all the paint did set my asthma off…a bit.
We made it to St Pancras station without any difficulty, remembering everything – children, rucksacks, teddy bears, food….food? Unfortunately our supplies have been left on the train from Newcastle. Thinking on my feet I told the children to stay put with all the luggage while I went to get the missing munchies. Having retrieved the bag I was returning to the children when my phone started ringing…it was Odessa wondering why I had left the children alone in the centre of London! Giving children their own mobile phones had its drawback but when I returned to them the grins on their faces said it all: they had enjoyed that one.
I had also made a friend on Facebook called Jeff, who was a Lens season
ticket holder who lived with his wife, Debbie, in
France. We arranged to visit them the day before the match and despite blowing
one of the tyres on the hire car and damaging another wheel we arrived safe and
sound. It was great to share my passion with someone else and the more he
talked, the more excited we became about visiting Stade Bollaert for the first
time.
Jas had
named her toy leopard, with checky Lens shirt, Jemaa after the scorer of the
first goal we had seen live…she had seen anyway, while Holly had named hers, a
hippo (with checky Lens shirt would you believe?) after Aleddine Yahia the
commanding defender whose name she had taken a great shine to ever since that
day in Bordeaux and the occasions she had decided to join me on the sofa at
home watching Lens play. This had been courtesy of the Lens subscription site
where you could download their games a few days later for 5 euros a month:
ideal for Sunday morning ironing sessions!
The sun
still beat down on us as we entered the stadium and Jasmine was thrilled with
her purchase of a Lens hooter that ended up getting blown whenever she heard a
call from another hooter in the ground…almost like an animal mating call…I was
impressed that I only got cross once throughout the match. She also was delighted
to be made a Lens balloon hat for free, another object that barely left her
side...or head...throughout our trip.
Our seats
were perfect – front row on the second tier of the Delacourt End Stand. The
toys were balanced a bit too precariously for my liking and Jasmine’s horn
blown a bit too close to my ear, however it was to be one of those days when
everything went right…
I sang, Jas
tooted and Holly waved our way through the Lensoises – the Lens version of the
national anthem and after Jasmine had recovered from the shock of Jemaa going
off injured things rolled along smoothly. Holly watched Yahia closely as he
spent much of the half arguing with extravert headband wearing goalkeeper
Vedran Runje: both making full use of their arms to explain their differing
points of view.
Toifilou Maoulida,
the bald-headed Lens striker, slotted home expertly at the far end: a goal
which we all saw and celebrated: Jas with her horn, Holly with the hippo Yahia
and me with screams that bore no resemblance to a man’s expected reactions in
such an occasions. As we jumped around Toifilou pulled out a long message from
his sock which simply read “I’m back” in English. Maybe he had known we were
coming?
In the second half the game hinged on
two crucial moments: firstly Runje performed a bizarre goal-saving overhead
kick and before Yahia had a chance to wave his hands disapprovingly at someone,
controlled the ball on his chest before ramming home his second.
Not only did
we all see another Lens goal but Toifilou celebrated right below us: ours was
the perfect view!
Not content
with already making our day the big man completed his hat trick with a battling
run and shot that saw him calling for a timeout after all his hard work.
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