February 22 - Olympic Lyonnais (h)

 After Covid, came storms Dudley then Eunice. 

Thanks to my sister-in-law inviting Odessa and I over to Paris to share in her 50th birthday celebrations, the blatantly obvious opportunity to stop off in Lens on the way presented itself. It would be rude not to.

 Therefore, since December I had been plotting and scheming away. A quick message secured my match ticket and on top of that, Eurostar had offered me the opportunity to rearrange my trip at no extra cost if needed; should the need arise. As for the match itself...? Arguably the biggest match of my supporting career: Lyon. I'd stood in a packed Stade Bollaert-Delesis for the 'might' of Ligue 2 but the prospect of seeing the Champion's League semi-finalists of 2020 and one of the great names of French football would be one to savour. Never mind that Bruno Guimares, their talented midfielder, had become the second of Newcastle United's Arab Spring of signings, they still boasted an incredibly talented team. Anthony Lopes, Moussa Dembele, Jerome Boateng, to name but a few. Lens' squad was valued at €65.00m while Lyon's came in at a mere €339million: a mere 5 times more expensive. Mind you this is nothing compared to Paris' squad value of €858million. Who says those canny lads are not worth it? Probably most people.

Dudley's on his way

Storm Dudley hit the UK on the Tuesday and Wednesday causing damage across the North of England, robbing thousands of electricity, cancelling the whole of the Scottish rail network and flinging a trampoline in the way of the recently named Captain Tom Moore train before swanning off. The following day, I was due to begin my journey South to the Big Smoke after finishing. My mind was ablaze with possibilities, from the chance of my train being delayed, cancelled to it being picked up and landing on a witch wearing ruby slippers. Of course my instant reaction would have been to chant: 

"There's no place like Lens...." Priorities, priorities!

Johnny Boy gets the
covid makeover.

After the usual bedlum of teaching an end-of half-term year 4 class that had been worn down by various bouts of Covid along with the usual colds, upset stomachs (not mentioning the d-word) and the like, I staggered off the metro at Newcastle station. There was time for a Zapatista before my six-o'clock train whizzed me off to Kings Cross and my Travelodging location for the night. Apart from Russia's continued invasion threat of Ukraine, I could final focus on the weekend ahead and avoiding the phrase: "Five More Minutes!"

Storm Eunice is too!

Friday morning, I awoke to the news that storm Eunice was on her way and would hit the moment I was due to leave London for Lille. Ramming everything quickly into my suitcase, I raced for the Eurostar office in the vain hope that I could get an earlier train to avoid the expected turmoil. Arriving at the ticket desk, at 7:30am, drenched in sweat from my quick sprint, I was delighted to learn that, because of the weather they were not only going to let me check on to the early train but I didn't have to pay the £140 the website had quoted me for changing! Result. By the time I disappeared under the channel, Storm Eunice was just arriving on the outskirts of London. I had dodged both storms!

Trapped in Lille?

Alex was glad to see me as his trip to see relatives near Lens had been given the heave-ho: Northern France had cancelled all trains so he was effectively trapped in town. His hope was that the storm would calm and then he'd be able to visit the following day. After a trip to Les Trois Brasseurs opposite the station for a very tasty 'Ch'timi burger' (named after the nickname for the Calais residents and containing a particularly pungent and strong local cheese: Maroilles). The cheese certainly had the effect of waking me up in so many different ways! 

Soon after, Yannick arrived in his car with two friends from Lyon (both called Cedric) to take me to Cambrai. Alex decided to stay in the hope that he could see his family the following day. We said our fond goodbyes in fromt of the strange yellow statue  of a woman in front of the old station. Singing "We'll meet again" I waved to him from the back of the car. Would our paths cross again? You couldn't help feeling that Storm Eunice had not finished with us yet.

There wasn't time to think about my 'lost friend' before Yannick had engaged us in a chase after the Lyon bus, spotted on the motorway. I couldn't work out whether it was Yannick who was more excited or the Cedric 'twins'. Each time they pulled near, their phones were out (so was mine - I can't deny or even know why). However, when we finally caught up with it, at Arras Golf Club, no-one wanted to hang around to meet the players so the idea was quickly abandoned in favour of a trip to an Arras town centre bar. A much more sensible alternative I decided!

Ch'ti cuisine

I was promised a more low-key evening from last time and that the phrase "Five more minutes" would not mentioned. It was, on multiple occasions but I resisted every offer of potentially lethal shots or strong beers. Instead, it was a diet of ordinary beers, pepsi (full fat of course) and water. Pipo's advances with a 35% bottle of pear cognac were constant and so as a compromise, I said I would try a little when Lens beat Lyon 3-0. I felt this was a particularly safe bet! Needless to say the Ch'ti welcome and food was fantastic although I wasn't so convinced by the look of Nico's sausage. It did however taste better than it looked! 

The more my hosts ate and drank, the faster and more excited they talked and the less I understood, until finally I was only a casual observer as they all danced and sang to a host of French pop classics from the years. The evening finally ended at 2am, when funnily enough, the bar closed. We all said our goodbyes as the Cedrics went off to stay at Yannicks and Nico and I set off to his. I felt it a real result when my head hit the pillow at 2:30 and sleep welcomed me into its relaxing grasp.

I resisted Pipo's 
charming drinks offers.

Classic French pop was lost on me!

A stuffed bird!
No idea why.

Match Day

Waking up fresh as a veritable daisy, I set off for the patiserrie for that traditional of French breakfasts, pain chocolat. The signs of a good one are that, as you eat it, most of the pastry flakes off and you left picking it off whatever plate, table, bag, floor you are eating it off. These pastries were high on the flake-o-meter. As a result there was a good amount of cleaning for me to do once I'd finished. 

The first stop was to visit Pierre who, it turned out, was going to be our guide for the morning on a tour of the old mine and Terrills at Loos-en-Gohelle. 

I did my best to follow the explanations of the separate villages that made up Lens, their churches, the communities that built up and the treatment of miners once they had finished working. The last fact really brought home to me how poorly a lot of miners were treated. Yes they'd had houses provided for life with big gardens so they could get fresh air but like so many, Alex's own grandad, who used to take him to his first Lens game, suffered from coal dust on his lungs and would often have to resort to an oxygen mask. Hardly the sort of well-earned retirement he had envisaged!

I have to admit, my concentration did begin to lapse as Pierre became more animated but it was enjoyable none-the-less and from time to time he did try to draw me in by slowing down and mentioning football.  

Emergency! Alex is in Danger!

Leaving the mine area to head up one of the terrills (slag heap, basically, left over from the mining days) that dominated the region, I noticed that Alex had tried to reach me. Ringing him back, I was shocked and disapointed to hear that there had been no trains since yesterday morning and not only had Alex not managed to visit his family, but that he was in danger of missing the match! 

He'd stood and watched as each train on the departures board appeared then was cancelled by the great French train gods (the same ones that own half of Britain's railways). After finally asking a re-hatted- SNCF employee, he realised they hadn't a clue what was happening either but thought it unlikely there would be any trains to Lens that day. While my trip was going swimmingly, his was imploding like a supernova turning into a black hole in space. The Supernova was the chance to see his family (maternal and football-related) but now all of that was in doubt! 

It was at this point that Super-Pierre emerged to save the day! Our French Superhero agreed to forgo a couple of bottles of Ch'ti beer to drive into the darkness that is Lille to pluck our Alex to the safety of his Sang et Or family! 

Alex is saved!

So it was, after a brief baguette sandwhich packed with an outrageous selection of meats, that Alex was plucked from the outskirts of the dreaded town, where his Metro had deposited him. As the tears flowed from us all, Alex and I gave thanks to Super-Pierre and his superhero power of generosity. This power, of course is synonimous of the region and one that never fails to inspire us in our daily lives! What would Pierre do? I will repeat whenever I'm faced with a difficult situation. In a lot of situations, the answer might well be open another beer but then sometimes that is the only recourse. 

As it was, we were led towards a car, with its boot open, that was surrounded by a gaggle of men (and a couple of women) drinking and chatting. It was Pierre's wife, Elsa, who had opened up just one of many impromptu carboot bars in the car parks around the ground: the Lens equivalent of a British car boot sale I suppose. It was the oldest and bushiest of the drinkers who wanted his photo taken with me. He sought out his friend, equally bushy, although slightly younger, to take the desired image. Our eccentric cameraman struggled to complete his duty but finally was satisfied with his work so I waved at a tree and ran off from their clutches, not caring that my soul could have been stolen by his photographic device.

Marek revisited

The walk up to the Marek is always a 'religious experience' for Lens fans. Walking past a MacDonalds on one side and a rapidly growing building site may not seem the most romantic and spiritual experience. However, peering through the trees ringing the ground, the glowing stands gleaming red then yellow to complement the similarly attired fans then a fan can't help but be carried away with a tide of emotion that sweeps from the stands onto the pitch. 

Our friend, John-Marie was there, waiting patiently with our passes into the Marek and the atmosphere grew with every second. There was no dissatisfaction with the club this time. The fans involved in the pitch invasion during the Lille match having faced no more action as the powers-that-be trusted the club to police their fans better. There also seemed to be more liaison between club and supporters: not something British football could really claim in any way. 

Before the game a tifo was dropped over the Marek advertising the entry into the political scene for the Red Tigers Party. Their manifesto included the legalisation of fumigenes at matches and an end to the disproportionate treatment of football related crimes. I don’t think Macron will be worrying just yet!

The last few games, Lens had been guilty of careless errors. One of the guiltiest parties had been Argentinian central defender, Medina. His wayward passes had been punished by the likes of Monaco, Marseille, Lorient and Bordeaux but today, he was impeccable on the pitch. A looming court case for alleged violence against his partner must surely have been weighing on his mind. 

As a fan I'd love there to be no truth in the allegations but as a husband and father to two adult women, I can't condone it. Medina is still a young lad earning a lot of money but that doesn't give him the right to abuse anyone, whether male or female. But receiving all that money in a foreign country miles away from home can't be easy. My only hope would be that for the club's, Medina's and any individuals' sake there is support for all: both victim and accused aggressors. I'd like to think Lens would consider it their duty to help out in this way. I know a lot of clubs wouldn't make the effort.

 

Away from Medina, there were few errors as Lens battled away. Whenever a ball was won, there were passing options available. Whenever a ball was lost there was cover available. Lens had rediscovered the form that had deserted them in the last few games. 

When Kalimuendo broke the Lyon offside trip, his shot was saved by a well-placed Lopes. The ball broke to Johnny Clauss, who was delighted to see his rebound from 15 yards slid into the empty net. The ground went wild. The Marek mostly ignored the VAR check that confirmed Kali had been onside and the festivities continued. The pace of the game never slackened and there was VAR disappointment when Fofana had the ball blasted into his arm and his chest before he scored with a spectacular strike. He had had no way of pulling his hand out of the way, which was right next to his stomach, yet VAR disallowed the goal. 

This seemed to knock the stuffing out of the home team and Lyon began to press with increased confidence and purpose. Could the lads just make it through to half time? 

Sadly, no. With the break barely two minutes away, a Lyon cross was missed by youngster Walker Farinez (in goal for his second consecutive game) and at the far post, a Lyon striker headed goalward. Farinez did an impression of a mid-air starfish as the ball slipped between his arm and foot. The Lens fans would have been forgiven for being deflated but they continued to roar their team on, both before and after half time. Lyon were on the ascendancy but the best chances fell to Lens. Once again VAR deprived them of a chance as a Lyon defender's hand deflected the ball into Lopes' grateful hands. On this occasion, the computer said that an arm outstretched in the penalty area wasn't an offence. Strange that a one next to the chest was. 

Cedric #2 undercover Lens fan?

Super-Pierre!

 

At the final whistle, the draw seemed a fair result and if you'd said to me at the outset if I would have been satisfied with that, I'd have taken it like a shot. The likes of Lyon, Monaco and Marseille are the teams Lens wants to emulate and did emulate before relegation in 2008 disrupted the course of this happy boat. Now Lens are back into the top half of the table, these sorts of games are going to be a great indicator of whether European football can be achieved. On this form, they are almost there. A bit more luck with decisions might have gone down nicely!

Great to see Mac Def for the first time in nearly 
three years! Still singing, still fun!

For the next couple of hours, a party took place Chez Muriel as the little bar reverberated with Lens songs that grew and faded before growing even stronger all night. All this after only a draw! The strangeness of the evening was even more pronounced outside as I talked to the family on the phone and a bizarre fan joined in, telling my girls how beautiful they were and then giving me a kiss on my cheek! My favourite quote of the evening belonged to Holly:

“Did that Frenchman just kiss my dad?”

Only in Lens?

 All in all, the two Cedrics had thoroughly enjoyed their weekend in the North. They’d been great company and had certainly challenged my view of supporters of the big teams. With a weekend of amazing hospitality and all the alcohol they could possibly want, they were grateful for the chance to recover on the way home. Needless to say, the offer to visit them in the South was extended to me. I’ll have to bear that one in mind!