This was the third time I had witnessed the final game of the season. The previous two had been victories that had proved meaningless in terms of promotion. I hadn't expected there to be anything for the team to fight for. April defeats to L'Orient and Brest had seemingly sealed Lens' Ligue 2 destiny. Out of the playoff positions with Paris FC and Troyes sweeping all before them, the writing was firmly on the wall. The following week, Lens were struggling to break down a determined Clermont resistance when, ten minutes from time, youngster Simon Banza's diving header had given Lens a tiny glimpse of a ray of light. This was followed up by victory and an assured performance at Ajaccio (2-0). Suddenly it was all to play for against Orleans.Superstitious fears consumed me: third time unlucky? Surely they couldn't win again on the last day? What shirt should I wear? Why not hedge my bets and wear two! Which scarf should I wear? 21st century problems only sports fans get consumed by. It was a welcome distraction from worrying about how to keep control of year six children driven mad by crazy SATs!
My train arrived at Newcastle and the first good omen was the train colour!The journey passed without incident. All my fears over massive queues at customs caused by Brexit came to nothing. Straight through no problems. Brexit chaos had been temporarily shelved, thank goodness!
There had even been time to visit John Betjeman for the traditional photo!
An overcast but warm afternoon greeted me on arrival in Lens. Fans were already gathering in La Loco. There seemed to be a different air in the town since my last visit when victory against Auxerre (2-1) had been meaningless after finishing 25 points off the playoff spot.
Pascal arrived and I was already tucking into Fridadelle Americain - that classic sausage - baguette - chips combo!
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| Never tire of seeing this! |
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| Even found some visiting Orleans supporters! |
It was great to finally meet one of my long-time social media friends, Remi, who spotted me on the Marek.
I was just arguing with Pascal how top Lens, and ex-Orleans, striker Yannick Gomis had gone off the boil,when he scored. I said if he hadn't scored so many penalties, his record would have looked very meagre indeed.
A corner was headed by Gillet towards the ex-Orleans striker. His chest control was sublime. When it landed at his feet, he managed to roll the ball home, in unspectacular fashion, before a defender dived in. Expecting it to be ruled out for some unwritten law, I was static, then the ground exploded. We were ahead. We temporarily leapt up to fourth spot and a possible home playoff placing. This didn't last long as we dropped down to fifth again when both Paris (at home to GFC Ajaccio) and L'Orient scored in their games. However, fifth was still the target.
Gomis ran through on the far wing and a neat pass to Captain Walid Mesloub set up youngster Jean-Ricner Bellegarde perfectly to side-foot home. Even the Delacourt joined in and, in parts, out-performed the Marek on the singing front! It was that kind of evening!
Orleans spoiled matters when they pulled one back with a headed effort as half time approached. But there was to be a surprise ending to the half when Gomis was sent flying and the referee pointed for a penalty. Everyone was still in shock that we were actually having a stroke of good fortune when Mr Penalty tucked it home. 3-1 in injury time and life was unfamiliarly sweet.
Into the second half and there was a carnival atmosphere around the ground. Crowd surfers of all sexes drifted up and down the Marek, there were Mexican waves, songs waving scarves, two more goals, another from Bellegarde, and Gomis completed his hat-trick. Bonheur had returned to the Stade! Even Orleans scoring a late consolation couldn't dampen the mood. My biggest win watching Lens and my most important. We had reached the playoffs. Three wins at the end of the campaign had turned things around when another season of failure had loomed.
The whole team came across to the Marek at the end and they were joined by President Joseph Oughourlian.The Marek called out to honour him: a sure sign he was doing something right.
There was a regal majesty about the ground shining in the night sky. The words ambition and respect beamed out from the Xerxes behind us as we descended. The fans had fallen back in love with a team that worked hard and never gave up, a feeling reciprocated by the team. It was a feeling that hadn't been present since the Promotion in 2014. Then, Mammadov had been on the crest of a wave that would crash down with his domestic fall from grace. Antoine Kambouare had held the reins and was respected by all. Could Montanier repeat the trick? He had been the fans' choice too, something Alain Casanova could never claim to have been.
In contrast to the previous two seasons, the bars were packed, in all likelihood, this could be the last home game of the season. Away games at Paris and Troyes would have to be won in order to qualify for the playoff against a ligue 1 side so there was a long way to go.
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| Chez Muriel never tasted so sweet! |
There was time for a trip to Chez Muriel with Pascal before meeting Jeremie, who had kindly offered me a place to stay for the night.
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| Good bye to my host Jeremie. Destination: Paris! |
The following day, I was off to Paris to discover one of the places they filmed one of my favourite films, The Hunger Games before seeing two of my favourite bands play: The Ninth Wave and Yonaka. As the advert said: "If Carlsberg made weekends then this would be the perfect one!" Success in the Football followed by a musical road trip. Sunday, I returned back to Newcastle after an exhilarating weekend. The first playoff match in Paris was two days away: time enough to dream!
