August 2015: Back to Bollaert!

Packed onto the Eurotunnel and ready for the off!

It was family holiday time and for the first time since August 2011 that the whole family would have the chance of sharing a Lens game with me. Since then, family holidays had failed to coincide with the Ligue 2 (and briefly 1) fixtures, despite my best efforts.
Unfortunately, as we set off for France, tickets still had not gone on sale. Thanks to the kindness of Pascal, who was away on a family holiday for the game, I was at least guaranteed a spot in the Marek but the rest of the girls didn't have places. Another search for places, reminiscent of the Bordeaux game in 2009, would have to take place.

Arnauld....Dude #1

My first stroke of good luck occurred the minute we began pitching our tent up near La Rochelle when Jas spotted the 62 (Lens region) number plate on the car opposite. The owner immediately came out to chat the second he spotted our Lens paraphernalia. I don't know who was more excited about meeting the other.
"....you are from Newcastle, " he said, "There are a lot of Lens fans there....?"
"Just me," I replied.
"Really? Are you the one from the Sofoot.com article? " I nodded. "It is like meeting a celebrity!" he joked.

Wot? No footie bars?
No surprise but I always have hope!

For the next few days we would take every opportunity to chat about Lens and the latest news, and some actual signings, before his family returned North. He also promised to see if he could get tickets for the rest of my family but couldn't promise anything.
The following Saturday was the first day of the season so after quickly finding a list of bars that had Beinsport I abandoned the family to look at the aquarium for some selfish dad-time. My first port of call was my best option as it was called the Sports Cafe. Unfortunately it was in the city's casino and one look at my Lens top was enough for the nice boys by the door to decide I wasn't the sort of clientelle they wanted so I set off with the help of google maps and their directions to the next bar on the list...an Irish Bar! Had to be a good sign?
With the sun beating down and a blistering 30 degree temperature proving slightly unhelpful in my frantic dash across, I ended up going from closed down bar to closed-until-6pm bar to "get away from our bar.... we don't like football here!" By the time half time arrived I had resigned myself to listening to the commentary from the club website. When will I learn about ligue 2 football + bars + me didn't work? Probably never - still I will keep trying.
The last 20 minutes of the game was spent wandering around La Rochelle, with an earplug in one ear listening to the commentary of a one-sided 0-0 draw, whilst searching with the girls for an ice cream shop of choice: slightly easier to do! Ernest le Glacier it had to be...and a fitting reward for my attempts at finding a bar. Relieved that Lens had escaped from Metz with a goalless draw, and could even have won it, my thoughts shifted to the following week's game and how Arnauld was doing with his search for tickets.
A couple of days later, a text arrived from Arnauld and he had managed to come up trumps with prized tickets for the game in the Marek. What a stroke of luck it had been meeting him! I was overjoyed even if the girls were not sure about going in with the "Mental heads". A great compliment to the Lens fans from Jasmine there, I thought!

Morning in Equihen Plage!

Match day finally arrived and when I finally stepped out of our tent in Equihen Plage near Boulogne (I had been awake since 6am) the sun was beginning to heat things up nicely...if a little too nicely.
We set off from near Boulogne at 9:30 to witness the parade and arrived without problem, finally parking in the car park in front of the steps that led to the Marek. The ground looked amazing nestling between the trees as the sun increased its temperature. It was going to be a hot one!
Heading off to the station, the family were in a good mood and were quite happy to be joining me as a surged to get everywhere quicker. I chatted briefly to Jonathan, the game's Capo as he headed to lead the parade along with a number of others who I had met at previous Worldnet tournaments. The girls had become used to this and simply carried on chatting amongst themselves as I 'networked'.

The square outside of La Loco was a sea of red and yellow and the crowd kept building as my friend Loulou and Jonathan took it in turns, hanging out of the bar window to get everyone jumping. Finally the parade set off but we remained at the bar as hunger had taken hold of the family and wouldn't let go...no contest for the parade!

A happy , well-fed,family

Holly had brought along a gluten-free baguette and the La Loco staff were kindly willing to prepare her a gluten-free tuna sandwich while Odessa (and I) were finally able to lay to bed the nightmares of the MacDonald's fillet of fish. At last we had found a place in the town where we were all happy!

Is this the
 male toilets?

After picking up the tickets from Arnauld and Pascal's friend Denis we headed into the Marek. It took a bit of getting used to the new ticket entry system but eventually we were in and it was a relief to be out of the sun that was beating down strongly now. We wandered through the newly laid-out stand and it became apparent that there was now no chance for anyone sneaking into the Marek having bought a Xerxes ticket as they now had separate sections with tall, metal walls to keep ticket holders apart. With the Marek once again all season ticket, we would have to think of a plan C or D if we were to join in the fun...
We managed to get a spot next to the barrier at the Delacourt end and so the flag was attached to the fence. It was also clear that the sun was going to be a big factor as the girls began to wilt even before the game started. They perked up as the teams entered and the Lensois was sung...

After the fervour of the players entrance and reception, the Lens team that had only four returnees from the previous year, and disgracefully no Taylor Moore, struggled to match the occasion and it was visitors Red Star who were making the running and showing great ability in falling over to earn themselves a string of undeserved (IMHO) freekicks while also getting a number of Lens players booked for their innocuous tackles. There was no such thing as a homer ref today!
Disbelief soon followed when Red Star scored a spectacular freekick from a similarly dodgy freekick. Yet the Lens crowd continued to cheer them on...as expected. However, as the sun continued to beat down, both players and fans found the going harder and it looked more unlikely that Lens would create many chances.
Out of the players on show only new boy Besle looked to have the composure and ability to deal with the situation and although Valdivia beavered about, he didn't seem to be able to create anything against a Red Star defence that now sat back and watched Lens' laboured attacks. A header that just slipped wide of the post from another new boy, Autret, seemed to be all that Lens could offer before a brief scramble in front of the goal ended up with nothing.
Jasmine and Holly were by now baking and even a pint of water each couldn't do much. The chances of this kind of weather in future matches would hardly by an issue yet the lack of shade from the sun was one my girls obviously would have to mention to any available health and safety officer...along with Lens' performance but that would probably be a different department: mental health.
Things needed to change and on came Nomanjanahary to be joined later by another newbie Scarramozino. Finally the team, and Autret in particular, woke up as both wingers began to bomb down the wing more frequently. The referee continued to be conned by the dives of the Parisians and his book began to fill up with Len players' names. To the crowds annoyance, he booked the Lens players for diving too...definitely not a homer...or even any good.

Finally the ground erupted when Autret controlled a ball before lashing a fine shot past the keeper from just inside the penalty area. with renewed vigour the home team attacked, however it was still worrying how often Red Star's tricky wingers managed to work their way into space. A late winner for either team didn't look out of the question. There was great relief from my lot as the referee blew the final whistle: more from the extreme heat rather than the thought of Red Star scoring and they headed straight for the cover of the trees outside as heat stroke and dehydration took hold. I had to cancel my post-match pub meetings as the family recovered. If only the team's performance could have been matched by the  occasion ...

After a busy, hot and tiring day...
relaxing in Les Jardins D'Arcadie

Once the girls had recovered we headed to a restaurant that we had a booking with. With Holly unable to eat gluten, meals out have to be organised in advance. This time we opted for a restaurant on the outskirts of the town that promised to offer gluten-free options. They were true to their word and more.
We felt decidedly underdressed as we entered the car park. Although we hadn't booked until 7pm we decided to spend an hour recovering in the grounds and when the owner came at to see who we were tormenting the cat that was wandering around the flowerbeds, he was straight away impressed with our battered Lens-decorated Citroen Picasso and he revealed himself to have been at the match today as well. He insisted on taking our photo with it and by the end of our meal, his photo had received over 250 likes on Facebook. The meal itself was thoroughly enjoyed by all of us, which was saying something with teenage girls. When it was time to go, the owner, Bruno announced that since I was coming back for Friday's game that me and Alex would be his VIP guests. I was so blown away by this I got caught speeding.
This trip had been another success for the generosity of Lens fans...not only had Pascal offered me his ticket, Arnaud had found me the others but to top it all, Bruno, had offered a dream chance for me to visit my Mekka as a VIP....watch this space! I can hardly wait...

July 18/19th July 2015 - Worldnet Tournament - Preston

The last successful Lens campaign led by coach Pascal in 2007

In 2012, I made my first appearance for the Lens B team at the Worldnet supporter's tournament and this year was my fourth consecutive appearance at the competition. However in that time, despite having taken part in more than 10 games, I was still waiting for my first win. apart from this, playing in the competition has always been a great privilege and an incident-packed weekend: basically big kids pretending to play for their favourite club....what's mot to like? My first trip was to Leeds but then it moved to Preston. During this time, the Lens A team had desperately tried to repeat their glories of 2007 and 2011, when they won the competition.

This year promised to be more of the same with Frenchmen wandering around Preston repeating one of the phrases they had been given to use:
 "We are French, we do not speak English. We are here for a football tournament." being their favourite.
This year I had been called upon to mediate with the Holiday Inn, Preston to sort out some accommodation for the lads, and a few lasses, as coach Pascal had had to put family first and stay in France. This did mean, however, that he didn't stop asking constantly for updates as his passion for the teams still carried across the channel. I managed to sort out a mixture of twin and double rooms so the party would either have to be very good friends or bring a sleeping bag: most opted for the latter.

Setting off at 6:30 may have seemed early to some but this was nothing compared to the Lens teams and their supporters who had set off from La Loco pub, Lens at 8pm on Friday night to get a middle of the night ferry from Calais to Dover. Unfortunately delays in Calais meant that when I arrived in Preston at 9am Saturday morning, the teams were still two hours away. Fellow Brit Lens fan, Adrian had also arrived to cheer on Les Sang et Or teams.
When they finally arrived all that was forgotten as both sides stepped onto the pitch. The A team were drawing 1-1 against Real Maroon as we set off for our first game against Troon. There seemed to be no problems with "bus legs" as the lads on the B team took the game to the Scots and midway through the second half they were rewarded with a great goal.

I can run...!

With five minutes left, it was my time to come on and, put on in right midfield, my only hope was that I wouldn't embarrass myself or gift the opposition a chance. Unlike my previous few years the new bearded coaching duo had seen it wise to keep me away from the defence and that suited me fine. In the last five minutes I did what I do best: run. I chased and harried, ran off the ball and without touching the ball once probably had my most productive five minutes of team football and I was pleased with the number of times that I stopped the defence from having time on the ball: I was football's Forrest Gump!

A proud man....great off the ball runner....hopeless with it!

"This lot are .......!" But we are winning. Ha!

My first victory in the first game and my first ever in a Worldnet tournament. The bearded coaching duo shook every hand as they left the pitch and I felt my running had been worthwhile. The team morale soared. After that the game against Runcorn followed a similar vein: a 1-0 win and a supersub appearance up front. I finally touched the ball with limited success but I ran...and ran. The bad-tempered Runcorn team kept shouting "This lot are shit..." but we were still winning and I was still running, forcing errors. Every time I chased down the ball, the lads on the touchline cheered me on: a new and very pleasant experience. At the final whistle I felt great delight at shaking hands with the miserable Scousers who had shouted and argued their way through the game. We were now joint top of the group with Darlington: unheard of for the B team. The A team had registered a draw in their first game and followed that up with a 4-1 win in their second so everyone was jubilant.

Allez les Sang et Or!

For the final group game I was given the honour of a place in the starting line-up. So in the first few minutes...I ran and hassled. I like to think that when a cross came in from the right wing it was my running that made the defender make a complete hash of his clearance and it ended up in his own goal, looping beautifully over his stranded and bewildered keeper. That is the story that I will bore my grandchildren with anyway. I came off near to half time but had done my bit, was grateful for the breather and congratulated by all the others as I left the field. Acceptance in the team had taken four years to come but finally I had made it! To add to that we were top of the league with our third 1-0 win. There was also an outing for Adrian, who was rewarded for his support along the touchline, joining in with the Anglicised chant of "We love you Racing, we do...". Always popular!
Another tradition for Preston is for 20+ Frenchmen to arrive en mass at the local Indian restaurant EastzEast, on a Saturday night, without a booking and order mixed grill and chips. We always try to introduce them to the idea of having some kind of sauce or rice, although the idea of cider, mojitoes, naan bread, popadoms and pickles seems to be gradually gaining quicker popularity: although not all at once! After that Adrian and I left the French to visit one of the local nightspots to brave the last train back to Adrian's which was just as entertaining as their night out; with pensioners vs teenagers arguments and fights, singing and swaying Scots, a bemused policeman or two who tried to be as low key as possible ("just don't notice us, please!") along with a whole train full of loud, pissed up individuals. What more could you want?
There were sore heads galore the next day, however both teams made it through their respective last sixteen rounds. Team B beating Bury B 2-0 and final run around up front for yours truly while the A team were locked with last year's winners Halifax and had to go to a golden goal period of extra time which was the cue for great celebrations...

That was to be my final memory of Worldnet 2015 as I had to put family first with my mum's birthday and head back to Tyneside for a family meal. The lads were all very understanding as I wished them all luck and the phrase "family comes first" seemed to be well understood by them and respected: it made it easier for me to leave. As the oldest member of the team, a sprightly 45-year-old, I had been extremely pleased with  my contributions, realistic about my own skill levels and despite being the outsider, I was made to feel a valued part of the group, which just reflected the way I had been treated on my visits to Lens.
In my absence the B team were beaten by eventual winners Preston but by no means disgraced in their quarter final. The A team made it through to the semi-final where they too were beaten by Preston. As per usual, the Lens players and supporters managed get more attention than the winners and make more friends along the way simply because of their joie-de-vivre and freedom from a sense of English reserve. Of course they wanted to win the tournament but once the smoke had settled on the disappointment of their elimination, they did what they did best and that was enjoy themselves in the same way they did in every league and cup game. I was sorry to miss out on this but it would only be three weeks until the return to the Stade Felix Bollaert and I couldn't wait...and neither could they!

Friday 10th April 2015

Paris Lens - the match

Silly and I headed for the stadium while the others kindly took our bags to the hotel. Outside the Metro station there were a number of drink and eateries packed out with fans of both teams and the atmosphere was relaxed as everyone mixed under the close watch of the largest number of heavily armoured CRS I had seen at a match. They were complete with helmets hanging from their belts in a relaxed fashion so I took the opportunity to unveil the Lens memorabilia that I had hidden about my person in case of trouble. Even the sound of the Paris fans warming up with a French rendition of Flower of Scotland didn’t daunt us as we wandered up to the ground, past row upon row of CRS troopers who, as we passed them, received the order to helmet up. It was like a prelude to a scene from a political riot and that very soon there would be bricks and CS gas thrown and baton charges. Yet the atmosphere prior to this had been convivial with supporters mixing freely outside the Metro station and you had to think that this was a gross overreaction to what had been such a calm evening and could only end up antagonising the situation: making a problem where there hadn’t been one. Asking directions from a helmeted figure we were pointed quickly in the direction of the stadium and left before anything happened that could spoil our mood on what was a warm and enjoyable evening. You had to feel to a certain extent sorry for the Paris fans whose reputation had provoked this police presence as it would only end up antagonising those fans who had no intention of causing trouble.

The Stade de France didn’t disappoint however as the relaxed atmosphere returned with bars opened out onto terraces with tables and chairs filled with both sets of fans enjoying a pre-match meal and drink and no sign of body armour, riot shields or helmets. People wandered freely with their drinks in front of the flying saucer-like stadium and it made you realise this was how football should be. Inside the stadium, the crowd was building and yellow jacketed people wandered around serving drinks from giant backpacks and I was excited to see the opportunity to extend my collection of souvenir plastic cups that included the Arras Festival, Indochine in Brussels and would now include Lens Stade de France. It didn’t take much to make me happy and Silly seemed to be enjoying the rare opportunity to drink at a football stadium, even if it was watered down! Funnily enough after he had finished a drink or two he didn’t feel like attacking anybody or making racist gestures. Strange that…

The atmosphere rose to the occasion though as an estimated 17000 Lens fans added to a 70000 crowd with scarves aloft and after an early couple of scares there was delirium as Coulibaly muscled his way through challenges to drill a shot into the Paris net. The group of Paris fans who had laughed and mooned at the Lens fans around them were subdued as we celebrated: one of those moments of sheer joy and superiority that sport occasionally offered. For Lens fans at the moment these occasions were rare and needing to be cherished: we were beating the Champions!

Rudi Riou in the Lens goal had a personal battle with Paris’ Cavani as the Lens defence decided that he wasn’t going to score anyway so let him through on goal twice: the first occasion Rudi palmed his attempted lob away and the second Cavani managed to get the ball past him only for the effort to hit the young frame of Cavare in front of the Lens goal.

“On est chez nous…” rang out the Lens fans in the Curva Sud yet this was to be the final moment of good fortune for Lens as Cabaye scored from the edge of the area – to the muted delight of Newcastle-supporting Silly who had been a big fan of him when he had played in the NorthEast and was excited to see him play again. We didn’t share his satisfaction at the goal for his hero despite his protestations that he had “taken it well”.

Worse was to follow as Rudi punched clear only for Maxwell to deliver one of the goals of the weekend: a sweet chip that had the Lens keeper forlornly tumbling into the net. Once again he had taken it well but none of us, bar Silly, were going to admit it. His “this is a great spectacle for French football” view wasn’t getting many fans.

The rest of the match went from bad to worse as Cavani dived to get Lens young defender Gbamin sent off for a second bookable offence. The Argentinian duly tucked away the penalty – probably the only way he would score – however there was brief hope for the Lens fans when he was sent off for first aiming his gun celebration at the Lens fan then grabbing hold of the referee as he booked him. His face was a delight to see.

Only minutes later Le Moigne was sent off for a second bookable offence and Kambouare decided to guard the goal difference and defenders replaced attackers. The scoreline remained 1-3 but the attention of the stadium was on the Lens fans who made sure they made the most of the opportunity to earn themselves respect as they sang their way to the finish. Les corons boomed out as did Qu’est ce que vous chantez and the Lens ‘clapping’ like a greatest hits of Lens songs. As the fans filed out there was a feeling that the team had restored a lot of pride with their performance and there was even time for a joyful bounce under the terracing – as if we had won. 

Ch'ti pride!