This would be the first time I had been to five Lens games in a season. Thanks mainly to two games in England and a double visit during December's quiet gardening period. My new life as a gardener was having its advantages.
My record of two wins and two defeats looked pretty even but then I had chosen to ignore goal difference (the 6 goals conceded without reply at Arsenal definitely tipped that balance). For this journey, Odessa was coming with me. She hadn't been to a game since my 50th birthday weekend in 2019, nearly five years and an epidemic ago. It was also true that she was still to see Lens win in the flesh. This was to be her tenth game and her record to date stood at Played 9 Won 0 Drawn 5 Lost 4. On the plus side, she had never witnessed a goaless draw and had enjoyed no less than four 2-2 draws: anything but dull! This was also going to be the third time she had seen Le Havre. For some reason she was drawn to them and their Barbarian fans!
We'd first crossed paths with them on a warm Summer evening in Tours. The bare-chested Barbarians (the name of their fan group btw) on that day had looked likely to celebrate a Coupe de La Ligue victory until a young Olivier Giroud rescued the Loire valley team in the last few minutes with two unlikely goals. The next occasion, Le Havre had ruined my 50th birthday, winning 3-1 at Stade Bollaert. This weekend, I demanded revenge on them and also a first win for Odessa to reward her devotion to the cause (including all the dross I had made her sit through on television).
Odessa, ever the devoted wife, humoured me with the traditional John Betjeman photo. On this occasion we went for the classic different directions shot but I will need some inspiration for next season's photos!
After a largely uneventful journey, we arrived in Lens and were delighted to see that we hadn't brought along the rain that had battered the Northeast of England for the last few months. It was nice not to see fields under a layer of floodwater. In fact the weather forecast for the weeekend was pretty hopeful, with the bizarre idea that temperatures could reach 23℃. Odessa had insisted on buying some sun lotion at Newcastle train station... only hope was that we would get to use it!
Friday was indeed a warm day, and we did use our lotion as we visited the Land of the Dogues (Lille). Our visit included a trip around the zoo, in glorious sunshine...
A day is always complete if you get to see a Red Panda and an empty Lille club shop. Because it was hot work wandering around town, we had a real thirst... the type of thirst that could only be quenched by a can of our new favourite drink... Sado! You've got to love European drink names.
The evening was spent with Pierre, his girlfriend and their teenage daughters. We were joined later on by Mika from Normandy who had also fallen in love with Lens. His family were now season ticket holders and regularly made the journey North. The evening was relaxed as we chatted in English and French and Pierre supplied both the food and drink. He was, as always, the ultimate host, although his mood darkened slightly when I informed him that Odessa had never seen Lens win in the flesh! Thankfully, he regained his positivity as he reminded us... "Until now!"
The following day, the sky was cloudy. Pierre, Mika and I started with a run around Terrils 11/19. The numbers related to the mine number so I had to assume there had been two different mines nearby.
By the time I had showered and eaten the breakfast Pierre had anonymously left by the gite we were staying in, it was almost 11am and time to wander down to meet not one but two visiting Englishmen.
James was returning for his second visit to Lens and a new Lens visitor, Ben, was coming for his first ever. An Englishman who lived in the Dordogne valley, Ben had an English Dad and French mum. He had fallen in love with Lens after their Championship winning season in 1998 but had never known anyone to go to a Lens game with. A member of the RC Lens UK division Facebook group, we had agreed to meet up for the game.
Once the two of them had arrived and Ben had checked into his hotel opposite the station, there was no other place to start but food and drink at La Loco. The Ch'ti beer went down nicely. the other place to take visitors was Emotion Foot. The last time we'd visited, James had invested in a home shirt but Ben conservatively decided on a scarf. To be fair he wasn't the footie shirt type and looked dapper as he wore his scarf: cravat-stylie
The last few weeks, Lens had struggled to get wins. Their European adventure had ended at Freiburg. A 0-0 game at home had featured a late disallowed Lens goal because of an offside toenail. In the return leg, on a night when I had been leading a running session at my local club, Lens had been 2-0 ahead and seemingly coasting. That was until the German side laid siege to their goal, finally scoring an equaliser in the 92nd minute and a winner in extra time. Despite turning in a stellar performance in beating Lyon 3-0 on the road, the performances began to slide. A lucky 1-0 victory at home to surprise package, Brest, was followed by defeats away in the Derby du Nord 1-2 and at home to Nice (not nice) 1-2.
We needed a reaction today if Odessa and I were going to have the win! My expectations were raised when I studied Le havre's recent form... one win and seven defeats! Surely Franck would have the lads whipped into shape ready for our visit? When Wahi's early effort was saved and his overhead kick struck the crossbar, my hopes grew.
Unfortunately, there was no score in the first half, even though Lens had shaded it and created more chances but I noticed that the atmosphere on the Marek lacked its usual togetherness and passion. Okay, we were at the Trannin end of the home terrace but there was definitely a tension around us. Despite the best efforts of the Kapos and their buddies at the front, there was a reluctance amongst a number of fans to join in. Yes they joined in the chants but it seemed half hearted. The usual passion was being consigned to whistling when things didn't go their way. There was initially great delight when Sotoca turned the ball home but this was replaced by derision, and more whistling, when VAR disallowed the goal because of another toe nail being offside.
Soon after, there was indeed great delight when the super-Pole, Frankowski, managed to loft a long-range effort into the visiting goal. VAR was forgotten. However, having taken the lead, Lens began to look nervous. Le Havre sensed this and suddenly looked like a half-decent side playing with a bit of confidence, not a side that had dropped down the table in the last few weeks. Although the play on both sides was poor, the visitors looked the more composed and Lens nervous.
The Marek and the two tribunes behind each goal were doing their best, but it was almost like their efforts were being swallowed up by the night sky. Inspiring the rest of the stadium was going to be a tough ask, like wading through the proverbial treacle. The optimism of the previous season had slowly been siphoned off. The team were in the European places but there wasn't the belief that they could stay there. Whereas Fofana had taken games by the scruff of the neck, setting up the powerhouse Openda, this year these two attacking options were sorely missed.
Wahi was struggling with his form and confidence and the midfield lacked presence, composure and experience. Samed had struggled through the first half and was sorely missing his old sparring partner. Fofana's replacements, El Ayanoui and Diouf, were showing potential but their lack of strength and experience was telling. Neither could hang onto the ball in the same way Seko had.
Both fans and home team grew even more frustrated as the lads failed to put the result to bed. The fear of an equaliser grew. When Lens' Aguilar went up with a Le Havre attacker, it was the latter who flew like a salmon after the slightest bit of contact. During the warm-up, Odessa had warned me about laughing at the referee, as he took great pride in his coordinated warm-up with his linesmen. Now it was coming back to haunt me as he pointed to the spot for a penalty to the visitors.
Odessa hopefully informed me that this was going to be the perfect opportunity for Samba to dive and save the penalty. Sadly, he dived the wrong way as Sabbi stroked home to level with seven minutes to go. And that, as they say, was that. There was to be no win for Odessa (or me).
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