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!

October 2021 -Metz (h)

 If you'd told me in August 2019, on my last visit to Lens, that before I visited again, the world would be hit by a virus that would kill millions of people and leave millions more suffering the after effects of its vicious bite. Not only that, but a generation of children would miss out on months of schooling while class sizes would be no more than 15 per class. Add to this, the biggest immunisation programme would have taken place, world-wide and still the death toll would be rising. 
Coronavirus had been a tragedy in so many ways although there had been moments to feel proud in human kindness. With the elderly and at-risk being forced to protect themselves in their homes, there were many tales of friends, neighbours and relatives rallying round to fetch food and other supplies. The NHS workers were hailed as the heroes they had long been by everyone: even the government. Sadly though, this support from on high didn't extend to an increase in salaries to match their devotion. It was also no surprise to hear that Boris and his cronies, on the whole would have continued to be mostly incompetent and self-serving. 
It was also no surprise that the UK's relations with Europe took a nosedive after Brexit. On two occasions I had been all booked up to visit my favourite French destination when last minute rulings by Boris and co had led to cancellation and frustration. When I booked up to visit Lens for the match against Metz, I really was not sure whether I would really be able to get there and back, ever the optimist (or is that just blind faith?), return tickets were reserved from Newcastle to London, overnight stay and return Eurostar to Lille. A PCR Covid-19 test was also bought to take on my return to the UK. France didn't need any such test, just proof  of being double vaccinated and a self-certification that I was fit and well and where I was going to be staying.  
The previous season and a half had been virtually played without supporters as Coronavirus forced restrictions to be tightened and national borders closed. Watching so many matches taking place in empty stadiums was sobering for myself and all fans and a reminder, if one should be needed, of the virus' destructive nature. 
On the pitch, however, Lens had secured the long-sought-after promotion to Ligue 1 with a penalty converted by Frank Sotoca in front of a deserted Delacourt stand. The home encounter with Orléans, the final match of the 2019-20 Ligue 2 season, was won 1-0 and allowed les Sang et Or to leapfrog both AC Ajaccio and Troyes into second spot and a fortuitous promotion spot. The match had only been coach Franck Haise' s second game in charge. After taking over from the faltering Philippe Montanier, he had guided Lens to two victories out of two. As the affect of Coronavirus took hold, the French Football Federation decided to abandon the season and allow promotion and relegation between Ligue 1 and 2. Just like that, we were up. Franck, previously coach of the reserve team was thrust into the limelight and in the following season, almost achieved European competition but a 0-0 draw at home to Monaco allowed Rennes into the Europa Conference League. But hey! Lens were still in Ligue 1 and finished an unbelievable 6th!
In 2021-22, the fans were back and Lens continued to take the footballing world by surprise. By the time the Metz game arrived, they were second only to moneybags Paris St Germain!

My journey began on the Thursday night, racing away from work to catch a train to London at 5:30pm. Fuelled by a Zapatista takeaway, the journey passed swiftly and it wasn’t long before I was wandering around St Pancras looking for my usual photoshoot with John Betjeman. Obviously, it wasn't hard to find him.

The short journey from Lille Eurostar to Lille Flandres was for once, one to be wary of. The relationship between Lens and Lille has often been one of near-hatred and this spilled over in the recent derby match. At half-time, a small group of Lille fans threatened to break into the neighbouring section of Lens fans, which just happened to be the family section. So members of the Lens ultras decided to take matters into their own hands and stormed across the pitch to ward them off. At this point, the promised police presence had been absent, the ultras argued but the powers-that-be decided to imposed a punishment of two home games behind closed doors; my game just escaped this fate. This was rumoured to have cost Lens €2million in lost revenue. In the aftermath, relations between the club and their ultras became increasingly strained and it was with trepidation that I set off to France with another ultras strike looming. I thought avoiding a stadium-ban was going to be my main problem!

The sad thing was that the crowd trouble had overshadowed Lens' first victory against Lille since 2007.

 For the first time, my short journey from Lille Eurostar to Lille Flandres and the train to Lens had to tackled with my colours covered up. It was a throwback to those days in England before Sky TV et al sanitised football.

What is always guaranteed is the warm welcome I receive from every Lens fans I meet. From the French Customs Officials who marvel that I am travelling to watch their team to every one of the fans I meet who insist I never buy a drink or pay for anything while kindly inviting me into their secret bars and hostelry. This generosity has caused many a delicate head after nights out; as I tell myself I’m told old for all this! This time, I wished someone had warned me as my hosts took me on a night-time-early-morning tour of their town, Cambrai. Each had their own kind owner who insisted I tried his home-made brew or shot. All the while, the phrase "Just Five More Minutes" kept on being repeated to me. 

The following day, the trip to see the Belgian Jupiler Pro League contest between Mechelin and Zulte Waregem was not the totally enjoyable experience I had been hoping for. Nice though the town was and the exciting the game was: a 2-2 draw played in front of a packed crowd that drank its way through the full 90 minutes before picking up their bicycles to head home. 

My head had returned to a manageable state the following day, thankfully and I was delighted to be heading towards Lens on a sunny late-October morning. Our mood was not going to be dampened by the impending fan strike. 

Inside the ground, it was clear that the fans behind the respective goals, Delacourt and Trannin, had accepted the challenge to inspire the team along with the Ultras groups not joining in the strike. 

We sang and cheered our way through 90 minutes. The game swung backwards and forwards as first, Wesley Said gave Lens the lead before Nicolas de Preville equalised. Said wasn't finished, however and he gave Lens the lead heading into the half time break. 

In the second half, Metz pushed for the equaliser and had the ball in the net. After an agonising wait, the referee decided that the goal would not stand and that was all the home side needed. Substitute Ignatius Ganago came on for Lens and with virtually his first touch, he blasted the third goal home before shortly being substituted himself after a rash tackle on Metz goalkeeper Marc-Aurele Caillard. Polish legend, Frankowski, completed the scoring and the game finished 4-1. 

The celebrations leaving the ground were reminiscent of my first ever home Lens game and I was able to celebrate my first victory since May 2019 and my first Ligue 1 victory since October 2010. 

17th August 2019 Le Havre (h)

The playoffs turned out to be quite a rollercoaster of emotions. The lads played out of their skins. Penalties saw them through against Paris FC, when 8,000 Lens fans stormed Paris. This was followed by the away trip to Troyes. Leading 1-0 after three minutes, Leca had been sent off for arguing, in his usual manner, with the ref. His petulance had been because Troyes had been awarded a penalty. The home team subsequently scored and against 10 men were pushing for the winner. When the game became 10-a-side thanks to another sending off, Lens hearts and hopes grew. In extra time, Simon Banza scored the winning goal that took them to the final playoff against Ligue 1 Dijon. In the two-legged encounter, the teams were locked at 2-2 with 20 minutes to go when young Orleans-bound Vachoux made a complete pair of howlers that sealed Lens' place in Ligue 2 for at least another season.

Today, for my 50th birthday weekend, where else would I want to be? So, Mrs Lensois and I headed south for the charms of Northern France.

Lens is my oyster!

The journey down proved to be one of the worst journeys south we had ever had. Setting off from Tyneside at 10am, traffic jams, tailbacks, lights, roadworks, demonic possession. All these delays congealed to make it one long journey. Instead of arriving about four o'clock, as planned, we finally arrived in the town of Hyde and a welcome couple of drinks and meal, five hours late. Luckily, Mrs Lensois and I were still on speaking terms, if unable to converse. The A1 is now on my blacklist of roads to avoid.
The next morning, after an early start, it took only ten minutes along the back roads to reach the Eurotunnel and we were able to get an earlier train under the Channel.
From then on, everything went smoothly. No delays on the Eurotunnel or on the A26 and we arrived in Lens about 11am. The town centre was beginning to fill up. I decided that my first priority would be to purchase the new shirt.
I decided that Mounir Chouiar would have the honour of decorating my back. The youngster had already turned down a move to Parma and seemed destined to stay. His first two goals of the season had also secured the first two wins. I also thought he had been different class in the playoffs so Chouiar it was. After showing the club shop's printing man the correct spelling, the visit was over. Mrs Lensois was mightily relieved I hadn't bought her the extremely tasteful Lens logo ear-rings. Nice!
From our hotel balcony, one of Lens' finest car parks welcomed us. I was later told, by Pascal, that it had been the site of the club's first pitch. Apparently, the rich young men of Lens used to play home games on the very spot on which 'my car park' stood. My imagination really wasn't feeling it.
A trip to La Loco, a welcoming Ch'ti and a Fricadelle Americain would cure that feeling of apathy. As a birthday present, Bruno had come up trumps and, although it was a lot harder to get VIP tickets, he had provided tickets in the middle level of the Delacourt: the stand my girls and I had sat in nearly ten years ago. A repeat of that 3-0 win would have been nice, I wasn't even bothered who got the hat-trick
It looked to be quite possible. In a tight first half, with few chances, a lobbed effort was clawed away by the Le Havre keeper and in the second half,  Gillet guided home a cross to give Lens the lead! This was going to be some birthday, I had decided. However Lens created, and missed, a sitter then they seemed to go to pot! The players were completely unable to pass to each other and Le Havre suddenly woke up to the fact they were on the same pitch.
Soon the vistors were on top and after some comedic defending, they were level then ahead. They had not read the script! This was my 50th! Chouiar came on. Surely, he would work his magic! No, he was as useless as the rest of them and the exodus started early for many.

A sad-to-see exodus before the final whistle.

Nothing Mrs Lensois likes
better than shopping at an
Adequate shop!

Another goal late on, sealed the defeat. Once again, Mrs Lensois had failed to see Lens win live. Just once, they could have obliged, but no! The run of draws and defeats would continue.

Lonely steps!
The ground
emptied quickly.

Lens had missed the chance to go second and although the town was busy, there was no jubilation to be had. Was it too much for Mrs Lensois to enjoy the sound of celebratory horns being honked and excited fans shouting as they drove past Chez Muriel? Obviously.
There is nothing better than a good old chat with Pascal and the lads. However, with a small, hungry French child in tow, intent on mischief, the drinking and chats were shortened and Mrs L and I were soon heading off to find somewhere to eat.
Being Northern France in the middle of August, everywhere we tried was closed. Bruno was hosting a wedding reception so Le Jardin was closed to the public. Finally, we struck lucky, or so we thought, with an Indian next to La Loco.
It all looked nice and we had had some brilliant curries in France before. Unfortunately, this was not one of them! Later described as the worst meal Mrs Lensois had ever had, it really summed up our luck on this trip.
At least our room was pleasant, despite the lack of a view: regardless of its history. Sadly, to go with our worst meal, we had the worst sleep.

That toilet looks a little too close to our bed?

Unable to stay at our favourite appartments on Rue Gambetta, I had settled upon, what looked, and was, a smashing room. Spacious, balcony, central location... it had it all. Perfect spot for my 50th birthday celebrations?
However it also had a toilet that was not far from the bed (handy if you were feeling worse for wear, I suppose). On top of this, its cistern decided that it needed to fill up every half hour. When it wasn't filling, there was a steady dripping from inside the pipes: the hotel's version of water torture? If I was being picky, the plastic blind-door millimetres from the toilet was also not ideally placed.
Come Sunday, we were only too ready to escape and head to see Bruno and thank him for the tickets. He had hosted a great wedding, that had gone on until 5am but was still the ideal host, charming and a credit to the city. He also seemed delighted with my gift of my home town Whitley Bay FC's shirt and a signed copy of my Newcastle United book (The 89th Minute: available at bit.ly/89thminute : just in case you didn't know!)
After that, it was off to enemy territory (the outskirts of Lille) to spend a memorable day with Mr Lens himself, Pascal and his family. These two encounters with Lens' finest made the trip. The trip down had been long and tiring, The match, hotel and evening meal had bordered on disastrous but every visit is worth it, when you get time with these warm, caring and down-to-earth people. The whole region is filled with them and they are the reason I keep coming back.
Our spot for Sunday night, was in Lille's city centre, From outside, it looked to be just what the doctor ordered: spacious, balcony, central location. Perfect spot for 50th birthday celebrations?

However, getting in was another thing as the door jammed. After half an hour, and a phone conversation with an elderly landlady who only spoke fast and furiously fluent Ch'ti, her son finally arrived and dismantled the door so we could get in.
Our final night of the weekend was to be spent in Lille's Rue Solferino. There were few bars and no restaurants open for us to celebrate, so it was left to a street take-away to provide our feast. Okay, so they were from Lille but they were still Ch'ti and warm-hearted.

The food of kings!

Party venue!

On the way back, we missed the turning to visit the massive shopping and the chance to stock up on Ch'ti. The final blow was Chouiar leaving Lens to join Dijon at the end of August.
C'est la vie!

17th May 2019 - Orleans (h)

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!

Never tire of seeing this!

Even found some visiting Orleans supporters!

Unlike two years ago, Lens' fate was in their own hands: win and there was nothing L'Orient could do to snatch that final playoff spot (except win at Le Havre by nine more goals than we did).

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.

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. 

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!