August 2017 - Brest (h) part 1
I was certainly wondering the wisdom of this trip. Lens were second bottom of Ligue 2, without a point after three games and one win in nine league, cup and friendly games. The knives were out for Casanova. The fallout from the previous season's failure to earn promotion was certainly proving difficult to overcome. Social media was filled with debate. The loanees, notably Karim Hafez, had returned to their clubs, while the names of Bostock, Zoubir, Lopez were being linked with every club imaginable. Lala had gone to Strasbourg and fans favourite Autret had gone to Brest at the end of his contract. Added to this the loss of midfield dynamo Benjamin Bourigeaud to Ligue 1 Rennes with no suitable replacement being found things weren't going well. The players that had been brought had no exactly set the Ligue alight. On top of this, major signing Madri Mouaad, had broken his leg in his home debut. The first and only signing who had cost any money, Madri would now miss the 6-8 months. Talk about luck!
The trip was booked in June; as soon as the fixtures had been released and days off work achieved . The fact that the second round of the Coupe de la Ligue was to be held the following Tuesday made us feel safe in the knowledge that the game would not be moved to the Monday night. We hadn't reckoned on the slyness of the LFP.
The swines waited until the first round had been played to see which teams got knocked out. It made for a nervous wait as we realised that if Brest and Lens were knocked out they would be the Monday night game without a doubt. Both teams' terrible start to the season (0 points between them) didn't bode well and when Brest were knocked out of the cup on penalties by Paris FC the stage was set for Lens to really put the kai-bosh on our trip!
In the first half Lens were desperate to oblige: conceding an unlucky goal in the first half. Sitting, that night, on a hot Spanish terrace in my Lens shirt watching the action unfold on my phone, I felt that there was no way we would get to see the lads play. I was gutted and convinced there was no way they could recover. However, the misfiring Habibou was replaced by Lopez and within 11 minutes he had set up one for Lendric and helped himself to the winner. I was beside myself!
Surely now everything would be alright. They had a first win of the season and I would be there to roar them to victory in the next home game!
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| Eagle-eyed-nav! |
Our Friday night was to be spent in the comfort of the Stade de la Liberation watching Boulogne v Grenoble. It was great to meet up with Jeremie and his mate, Alain who were in the VIP section.
Our own culinary delight was Merguez sausage et frites. Everyone a winner!
The quality of the football was good in spells, especially from Boulogne but there was a lack of goal-mouth action and as the sun set we began to realise the error of wearing shorts. In the second half Grenoble scored. Scrappy approach play was finished off by an accomplished strike. The mood dropped around us along with the temperature and a cold wind swirled around us. Unfortunately the match didn't warm us up. Chances were rare and at the finally whistle, all we could think of was escaping to a warm bar. This is just what we did before we returned to our Premier Class Hotel: which was everything but. The toilet door that managed to rust itself shut every time and the tiny window that managed to keep out light were just two of the highlights but it was warm and out of the wind so what more could we ask for?
August 2017 - Brest - part 2
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| Members of KSO thought we were mad travelling from England! They're right. |
En route we visited a local Auchan to stock up on the essentials: Ch'ti beer, red wine and brioche. This could almost be described as a staple diet: cereals, fruit and bread.
Finally arriving in Lens, we were early enough to park for free at the Stadium car park. As welcoming as the sight of road signs for Lens and eventually Bollaert itself were, there was a feeling of trepidation in the car. Getting out of the car there was a distinct absence of anyone about. Even though it was three hours to kick-off, there would usually have been more fans around. There was a definite feeling of malaise about the club that was hardly surprising given the current run of form. In the eight seasons I had been supporting Lens, this was a new low!
We were due to get our tickets from Chez Muriel so we stayed there and were delighted to meet some fellow Brits from Wigan who had followed Lens since leading them to the European Championship on football manager. Who says the technological age was bad for football? They had apparently been waiting ages for the chance to visit the team they had followed avidly on Bet 365. Another pair who had suffered at the hands of the idiots at the LFP and their fiddling with football fixtures for their own. and TV's, purposes.
We learned that there was a big meeting taking place, organised by the major supporters' groups, outside of Emotionfoot so Chez Muriel was also quiet, although it did mean we didn't have to wait long to get served and drinks were delivered to our table! Arnauld arrived to update us on the supporters' meeting and he was pleased to say that they confirmed their commitment to non-violent demonstrations adding that the mood was upbeat despite the number of season tickets being down on the previous year. Surely the fact that we were here, and that I had come to support the lads on my birthday would act in our favour...not clutching at straws there!
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| It's tradition! |
For the first time in a long time, there was no extra lineup or extra search for me after stepping through the turnstile. The CRS were just not interested. Bigger fish to fry? This was in spite of wearing both my Union Jack Northern Lensois flag and Lens-coloured dreadlocks. Alex and Adrian were very disappointed, maintaining I still looked extremely dodgy! I had tried!
The Marek was baking hot and it was a real effort to keep my dreads on as the sweat poured down. When Adrian began to worry about the effect of the sun on his skin, I donated my cap to the "Save AJ's complexion" fund and the hair was returned to my pocket. There was extra cooling provided by the flags that surrounded us. We had emerged in the middle of the ultras so needless to say we sang our hearts out as the flags whipped about our faces. We were handed A4 sheets of paper with instructions on how to fold a paper aeroplane and as the seats around us filled up and we realised that this was to be phase 2 of the ultras' protests. But would there be a phase 3 and 4? All Lens had to do to brighten the mood was score...and manage to win.
Phase 2 resulted in the near wing and touchline being covered with paper aeroplanes soon after the game had kicked off. An extremely bored-looking steward then set about blowing them away using a leaf-blowing machine: surely picking them would have been easier?
In the ninth minute, the golden moment arrived. I missed Bostock's slide-rule pass but was just able to see Superkev Fortune side-foot the ball into the Brest net. The fans in the rows of seats in front of us surged over the flimsy seats to crush up at the front leaving our row the first row still populated: we hadn't been the only ones worried about breaking limbs on the tilting man-traps that we were balanced upon. After that, Brest were allowed to clamber back into the match as the Lens team preferred to defend their lead: a tactic that infuriated the fans about Casanova's team. We currently had the worst defence in Ligue 2 so relying on them to keep out the distinctly average attack of Brest was asking a lot. I had just uttered the immortal words: "If we can just keep them out until half-time..." when Brest scored.
For the third time in the game, Brest players were allowed free headers in the six yard box and sure enough, the ball looped over the stretching Vachoux. The immediate reaction from the Lens team was worrying. Heads dropped and the flowing football that had been evident last year was non-existent.
At half-time we gave back the season tickets we had used and decided to stand nearer the Delacourt so we could see a bit more of the game. This proved a wise move as things went from bad to worse. First a long range effort bounced off crossbar then Lens keeper Vachoux's back to put Brest ahead then a similarly stunning volley meant the team was losing 3-1 and Casanova's job as coach was virtually over. the Marek took matters into their own hands. First flags were launched onto the touchlines as the last ten years of frustration seemed to boil up. Next supporters streamed onto the pitch from the rows we had vacated. Some fans joined them from the Delacourt but they seemed more intent on taking selfies in the goalmouth as the fans headed for the players' entrance. The club seemed to have had an inkling that something like this might happen and the stewards immediately formed a barrier to protect the players who were all forced to seek refuge in the tunnel.Even though the fans had invaded the pitch, none of the players were harmed and once the stewards began pushing them back the fans returned to the stands. This meant that there was a chance the LFP could be lenient: we could be thankful for small mercies!
Once calm had been restored and the pitch had been cleared of supporters and stewards there were announcements over the tannoy. I wasn't sure what they were saying but heard the word "fini". Alex and I debated whether it meant the game would finish or not. Whatever else had been said, it didn't please the ultras and the middle section of the Marek began to empty.
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| The empty middle section of the Marek post-ultras walkout. |
2-3!
However there was to be no happy ending for any of us as Superkev was denied his hat-trick by a fantastic save. The defence's misgivings were soon demonstrated once again. Brest put the game to rest with a cross that evaded each of the Lens defenders and was volleyed home by a single Brest attacker. 4-2. Another exodus began. Casa was on his way.
We headed to La Loco after the match but once again, the mood was subdued. Lens were second bottom, Tours the only team keeping them off the bottom with an inferior goal difference.
As good as it was to see everyone again at La Loco, we were quite pleased to escape the melancholy that had descended upon the town. We headed for Tourcoing, just outside Lille, which we had booked with the understanding that we could use it as a base to see Mouscron play Gent that evening. However, the Belgian football league had decided to move that game after we had booked the hotel. Another governing body to add to our hitlist!
In an eerily silent Tourcoing, we were directed to the only open bar in the town which was run by an elderly lady in a cocktail dress. The clientele were definitely of the older variety apart from a young couple who spent a lot of time arguing outside. Without a doubt this had been the most disappointing of my visits to the region. The fans and the club were down and the immediate future didn't look good. Casanova was indeed relieved of command but instead of walking, he would quietly sit out the rest of his contract. Eric Sikora, Captain Siko, was called upon to take over. The rumours that the club were negotiating with ex-Saint Etienne boss Christophe Galtier were way off the mark as he would have been extremely expensive and beyond the club's means. Not what the near 25 000 fans wanted to hear. How had the fifth-best supported team in France come to this?
The raised expectations after the Solferino take-over had probably contributed to this latest sense of dissatisfaction so what would they do to right the boat? The looming transfer window deadline could answer this. Me? I would be back in April, hoping for better...no... praying for better!
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It was a pleasure meeting representatives of the KSO93 who thought
we were mad for coming over. By Sunday morning we totally agreed with them.
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April 2018 - Nancy (H)
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| JB helps look for the elusive luck Lens needed |
Our journey was the tried and trusted train to Kings Cross then Eurostar to Lille. Once at Lille it was hire car to Boulogne for our first match: Boulogne v Creteil, a mid-table third-tier National clash. Everything went swimmingly, we met Jeremy, in a bar, Boulogne won the game with a couple of well-taken goals, 2-1, then we returned for an after-match drink at the same bar.
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| Tully not concentrating on the game! |
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| Our favourite spot for pre and post-match drinks. |
Finally matters calmed outside, we thanked the barman, who was by now brandishing a baseball bat, and headed to our next bar. Our next port of call was our favourite rock bar. Nothing had changed and I was recognised by the big beardy bloke I had talked to last time. He was impressed we had been to the game, didn't like the fact that I supported Lens but thought it was ok to declare his love for Marseille. We were joined by another Lens fan, Stevn, who lived in Swindon but was in fact from Le Portel and had walked into town. The blame was laid firmly at Stevn's feet for our delicate state the following morning: that and the green, home-made shot the barman had insisted we imbibe.The following day, thankfully was a rest day with no football so we left the Boy Mark to sleep once we arrived at our appartment in Lille. We headed off to an all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet and enjoyed the ice creams with unlimited chocy toppings.
The next day I was upset when still I couldn't find my top-price Lens scarf purchased in August. I hadn't been able to find it since we left the Eurostar. Unbeknown to me, that hilarious prankster, Silly Andrew had had it all the time and I discovered it once I looked to check we had closed the windows in our Lille Old Town appartment...
Thanks lads!
The following day we made the short trip to Mouscron to meet our Kortrijk friends. It was the weird and wonderful world of the Belgium Playoffs and Kortrijk were in the Europa League qualifying playoffs. The winners of each group of six teams would meet to contest for the prized spot in Europe's second competition. The game hadn't excited the locals and there were very few fans milling about before the game.
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| Form an unruly queue to get in...... |
After wandering around a number of similar streets, we finally found Kim and Fred, and we entered the away end...and another step back in time: beer on terraces.
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| Let's put empty cups in Silly's hood to show how sensible we are! |
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| Can I have a football ground at the end of my garden? The view from the away end. |
It was the 25th birthday of the Ultras group Kop Sang et Or. We arrived late and missed the start of their parade but the lads were particularly impressed by their march to the Marek: with plenty of flares, flags and photo opportunities.
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| Under the Kop sang et Or banner |
No sooner had the giant Kop Sang et Or anniversary tifo passed us than a loose ball on the edge of the Lens box was driven home through a crowd of players. Vachoux had had no chance. The atmosphere was almost sucked out of the stadium. January signing Mesloub carried on his recent good scoring run with a cracking strike from the edge of the area to equalise but the team looked short on confidence and luck. Sadly so did Captain Siko. There was plenty of huff and puff but they couldn't blow down that Nancy rearguard. The visitors seemed satisfied with their point in the second half to help them stave off relegation to the National league. They kept Lens at bay whilst creating the only chances of a dire second half. Siko's sustititutions were more desperate than informed and the boys had long since lost interest by the end of the game... The chance to win cash on the Quizzup app proving too much temptation for them to ignore. The home fans had begun leaving well before the final whistle so the lads were only mirroring the malaise that had descended. It was sad to think that this was the same team that had had so much fire just a year earlier. It was like watching the decline of a close relative: one that had been so full of life and joy. The team would escape relegation but this club demanded and deserved so much more. In a country that didn't count football as their top sport these fans were streets ahead of the rest: traveling in large numbers the length and breadth of this big country. Only Lille fans could claim to be further north.
To cheer us up, Pascal decided to take us to meet some of the Worldnet lads at a bar on the other side of town but after a single drink we had to leave when a minibus of Nancy fans started causing a rumpus. Leaving out of a side entrance, drinks in hand, we headed in the opposite direction to the blue flashing lights of the police. By the time we reached the town centre, everything was dead, bars closed, sot there was only one thing to do: head back to our favourite appartment. It was hard seeing the kind, and endlessly helpful, Pascal looking so dejected but just like my disappointment at a flat end to another great weekend, it would pass. Thankfully there was not long left to this forgettable season.
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Only another seven hours until we reach Newcastle...May 2018 - Auxerre (h)
Adrian was getting married so it only seemed logical to have his stag weekend on the final weekend of the ligue 2 and 1 season. So it was that the wheeler-dealer of continental travel managed to get us cheaper group bookings on the Eurostar and train from Lille to Lens. He also managed to find accomodation for 20+ Brits in both Lens and Lille: no mean feat in the former and not desirable in the latter (for Lens fans).
Arriving in Lille five hours before kick off, we boarded the train to Lens and as we set off, Adrian and I treated the rest of stunned party to Les Corons which was not appreciated by the remainder of the carriage (Philistines). The female guard was swiftly along and asked us to keep the volume down. That was the last time either of us tried entertaining the troops. The lunchtime start to the drinking had dampened my ability to remember anything beyond the route to the ground and it took me a long while to process the fact that the person who had been chatting to Alex, Jeremie and I outside the ground was Geoffry, a Belgian Lens fan and one of the regular contributors to the RC Lens UK Division. It was at this point that I should have remembered the visit to Boulogne: barely five weeks earlier. But I didn't. A long night lay in wait.
The team had secured their Ligue 2 safety by beating Paris FC 1-0 in the penultimate home game of the season so true to their word, the majority of the Ultras made the decision to boycott the game. The Marek was substantially emptier than usual. Only one of the supporters' groups had decided to support the team to the end and they did their best to raise the rest with limited success. Alex and I were delighted to be in the Marek with Pascal, despite the boycott, and could make out Adrian and the rest of the crew in the Delacourt so we didn't feel as bad at being separated from the others. Adrian had tried his best to share his enthusiasm with his friends by buying a bulk-lot of Reebok-era Lens scarves for the group but while this noble effort was appreciated by most of the party, it didn't inspire the team.  The lack of atmosphere in the ground was made worse by the most appalling half of football Lens had conjured up that season...and that was saying something. Auxerre were just as bad. It was like watching two aged dinosaurs of France's golden era of club football sizing each other up but deciding not to bother doing anything more than nudge each other a bit. For some of the Brits, they had seen enough and headed for the safety of an Irish bar on the other side of town. On reaching it they were disappointed to find out that the regulars still spoke French and had never visited the Emerald Isle either. Some were drinking Guiness though. "You take the boy out of Preston but....." They simply missed home after a whole half day away and Ireland wasn't that far from Deepdale, after all. In their absence, the game picked up. Pre-match, the sad news was that Christian Lopez was not to have his contract extended, despite his desire to sign one. He hadn't reached the heights of the previous season but none of the strikers had fared very well and the blame for that had to lie squarely on the constantly wayward crosses from the wings. In his expected final game for Lens, the Spanish matador rose high to head home fellow departee, Karim Hafez's cross in the 47th minute. The latter's season had similarly not got going after a long-term injury and would prove too expensive to sign on a permanent deal. Walid Mesloub popped up again with another great strike a couple of minutes later. 2-0 they led but the fans in attendance hadn't the fervour that they were famous for. For many it was the least the team could do to finish on a winning note after this let-down of a season. The visiting Brits were not to experience anything more than a larger than usual Ligue 2 crowd in a half-full stadium: a sadly underwhelming experience. Auxerre pulled one back late on as Lens tried to throw the game away with traditional late nerves. At the final whistle, there was little more than polite applause and the players went through the motions of applauding the crowd and ignoring the Marek. Groom-to-be Adrian was most upset when he run to the front and saw Christian Lopez trotting towards him. The Lens player was approaching Adrian's outstretched hand and taking off his shirt! However, the number 9 trotted straight past. There was to be no consolation game-worn shirt or even a sweaty high five for our leader! No, CL ignored Adrian and handed his shirt to the little boy standing screaming excitedly behind him on the front barrier. Lack of presence, there AJ!    The rest of the evening was much more enjoyable. We were able to say "Bonjour and Felicitations" to newly qualified headteacher Arnauld before we bid farewell to both he and Pascal. In complete contrast to the match, an entertaining evening was spent at Chez Muriel, La Reinitas and Le Pirate. There were plenty of enthusiastic fans to talk to and the chance to play 'Reversing Lorry Beep-Beep-Beep' as the staff of La Reinitas gave us extremely unsubtle hints to head home by removing all the tables around us. Yes: they reversed into the bar each time...hence the game. You had to be there to experience the true genius: honest! Yes,] and also, I didn't head my own advice... "Beware well-meaning, friendly Frenchmen offering you drinks." Late drinks of particularly strong Rince Cochon and Tripel Karmeliet beers were a step too far and I was extremely glad to reach our appartment in one piece. Hopefully twice bitten...shy for the rest of my life! A forgettable season was at a close. The last two seasons had ended in massive disappointment: surely things can only get better! |
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