A mighty fine holiday
By Matt Rowson
Over a few days in Amsterdam we'd experienced and
enjoyed the lackadaisical Dutch attitude to pretty much
everything. The Amsterdam Arena on Saturday night, for
example, where we were joined by the Watford squad to
watch Ajax's pre-season tournament, saw a drunken
obnoxious Arsenal lout dealt with via a hand on the
shoulder and a fatherly chat. Not what one would have
expected in England, effective or otherwise.
Much less in Belgium, scene of such contrasting
stewarding and policing during Euro 2000. Sunday was
a day when so much could have gone wrong.
To start with, the negotiations undertaken by heroic,
if beleaguered, tour organiser Jon Richards had been
fraught with communication problems, resulting in
departure time from Amsterdam needing to be brought
forward an hour at the last minute. No problem,
though, and the coaches trundle off on time.
Nor are there the anticipated problems at the Belgian
border, which passes unnoticed as our coach sat
entranced at the video of last year's play-off final.
We hadn't expected two coachloads of English football
fans to pass unchallenged.
Only when we reached Lommel did the fun start. It was
immediately apparent that our hosts were not prepared
for this volume of visiting support, leaving one
ticket-seller to rigorously note down every visitor's
passport number and label their ticket. We were told
that Lommel were expecting around twenty Hornets (rather
than roughly six times that number) which made the six
policemen armed with machine guns on the gate look
even more like overkill.
Having negotiated a mud slope we found ourselves at
the top of an open terrace surrounded by metal fences
that looked like something out of Jurassic Park.
Equally intimidating were the toilets, an
unnecessarily tall brick structure in a random corner
of the complex. Still, it was a terrace, there was
watery beer on sale, and there was football.
Two particular omissions were noted in the starting
line-ups; Heidar Helguson was again absent, apparently
rested by the management, and much-awaited ex-Hatter
Kim Grant was missing from our hosts' player list.
The early exchanges set the tone for the game; with
Lommel over-employing an offside trap which the
linesman to our left was only too happy to indulge.
Still, it was sunny, and the Watford contingent were
enjoying themselves. "Kneel down if you love our Cox"
with accompanying posturing greeted the many
incursions of the big defender, impressing in a
central defensive role.
"If the ball hits the sky or hits you in the eye, it's
Ngonge..." was somewhat less kind, particularly as
Michel's sometimes random boisterousness was rather
well directed in the first forty-five minutes. He brought the
first save from the surly Lommel keeper ten minutes in
with a fierce downward header from a left wing cross.
Later in the half some positive running opened up the
defence and Michel, running in from the right, flicked
the ball expertly over the advancing keeper only to be
denied by the post.
Lommel were very much in the game though, and created
one one-on-one with Baardsen in the first forty-five which the
advancing Norwegian did well to block and clear.
Finally, shortly before the interval, Watford took the
lead. Ngonge's continuing endeavours saw Cox with
space to cross on the right. His excellent delivery
found Tommy Mooney attacking the near post. When
Tommy thumps in a header, it stays thumped. One-nil
at the break.
The interval saw three changes by the Hornets,
including the introduction of an unknown announced as
Tommy Smeesh. "He gets the ball, he takes the peesh"
was soon ringing around the away terrace (and
continued joyously around the alleyways of Amsterdam
into the early hours).
The second half saw Lommel take the initiative, but
they were frustrated by resolute defending denying
them open chances. It wasn't long before their
substitute striker, whose turns and spins were a
weapon in their own right, was spinning over any
challenge that came his way. Page was booked for a
"foul" on this increasingly popular individual.
Robinson soon followed, before finding that gurning
over the shoulder of the culprit in the penalty area
to the mirth of the Hornets behind the goal
constituted much more effective revenge.
Lommel equalised. A messy goal at best, and for once
the offside flag stayed down when perhaps it was
needed. Either way, the Lommel striker was goal side
of Baardsen and didn't miss the open target.
The Lommel hoards went mental, especially a twelve year
old on the adjoining terrace who attracted much
attention and seemed to constitute the Lommel "mob".
The game opened up a little, and Smeesh shared a
delicious one-two with the highly effective Nielsen before
uncharacteristically panicking and putting the ball
wide when one-on-one with the keeper. The Lommel mob
celebrated again.
At the other end, the defending was increasingly
last-ditch with Gibbs, Cox and Robinson all making
goal line clearances and a Lommel freekick smacking
off the corner of the woodwork.
Then Watford broke away. Much of Foley's tidy
build-up work had been camouflaged by his watery lack
of presence, but this time his frailness was to our
advantage as he crumpled under a challenge from
behind. Smeesh sent the keeper the wrong way from the
spot to raptures from the Watford paddock.
Micah Hyde came on for Super Tom but didn't touch the
ball. The game finished, we cheered and left. A good
day all round, despite the potential for problems.
Everyone went back to Amsterdam and lived happily ever
after.
Almost everyone. A quick conference with some
enthusiastic Lommel "green lions" outside the coach
revealed Kim Grant's fate. Still at Lommel, his
involvement has been curtailed by his alcohol
intake... his last appearance, whilst clearly
inebriated, was curtailed when he vomited on the
pitch. Shame.
Now I'm in Amsterdam again, in a shady Internet cafe
sipping freshly squeezed orange juice and listening to
the Rolling Stones. A mighty fine pre-season holiday
all round.
Now it's time for the real stuff...
Relieved
By Brian Turnock
The last time I was in Lommel it was to take my family to a holiday park. I drove past a football ground, later to be told it was the home of the local club who I believe were languishing in the lower regions of the Belgian leagues. Little did I realise that ten years later I would return to those leafy suburbs of Lommel to see my hometown team adorn that same football field.
Like Watford, Lommel's fortunes have risen. Not perhaps so well publicised or meteoric as Watford's and, like the Horns, they were also relegated from their top league last season.
That other Belgian-based Watfordian, the infamous Kevin Birdseye, was prevented from gracing the stadium for some mundane reason - a family wedding I'm led to believe. Some relatives have no sense of timing.
Well, what did he miss? Frankly, not much.
Of course, it's always a pleasure to see the Horns strut out anywhere but one thing perplexed me. Why did they not strut out in YELLOW AND RED. I'm not colour blind. My wife informs me that I still respond correctly to the colours of the traffic lights. So,when has YELLOW AND RED clashed with GREEN AND WHITE. Call me old-fashioned but the passion always seems to be more fiery when you see those yellow shirts charging across the turf. Nearly all of the supporters were clad in their yellow attire which certainly brightened up the occasion even if their vocal chords were slightly muted. Perhaps two nights in Amsterdam was beginning to take its toll.
But to be frank there wasn't much to shout about from our point of view. Two chances from Ngonge, one when he curled the ball tantalisingly close and the other a header brilliantly saved, and then in what appeared to be the twentieth minute of first half injury time there was Tom with a bullet header from almost the edge of the penalty area which all but burst the net.
So down to the bar, smirking on our one goal lead.
Second half, Tommy Smith illuminated proceedings; Lommel scored a suspect goal(?)and went on to go close to scoring on other forays into our box. Watford's best move culminated with Smith on a one to one with their keeper, he cleverly knocked the ball past him but much to his and our chagrin also past the post.
Ah well, it's only a friendly. At least we won't be beaten, and then lo and behold feeling somewhat generous to their visitors one of the Lommelers pushed Mr.Foley to the ground. Smith stepped up, ball on the spot, ball in the net. 2-1. A few moments of tedium and then the man in black blew for time.
I depart from the ground feeling slightly smug but also mightily relieved. Back home I won't be subject to taunts like "What? You can't beat Lommel?". I can walk into one of my employers, A.A.Gent Football Club, with that knowing look of triumph.
Five days earlier I had gone to see A.A.Gent play Coventry and for my sins I was planted with a group of Coventry supporters. That was my punishment for speaking English. When I asked to go in the stand I was informed, "Oh, you're English, you must go with them" by someone pointing to some sky blue people. For the record Gent won 2-0 and one of the more pertinent cries to come from a Coventry supporter was "We're Shit And We Know We Are". It's always nice to be among optimists. Well, I didn't hear that, neither would I have expected to have heard it on Sunday. After all, things can only get better. Of course they will. Let's be realistic. IT WAS ONLY A FRIENDLY. I'm sure GOD will do the trick.
For those making the trip on Saturday, enjoy yourselves oop North, come back with three points, a smile on your face and a bellyfull of curry.
For me. Well, I made the 120 km trip back to Gent to prepare the English course for my new charges at A.A.Gent, one player from Zaire, two Peruvians and one Albanian international who will be confronted by Owen, Heskey, etc when his country plays against England soon. And the basis of my teaching will be even more propaganda about WFC...I will start by explaining to them how we pulverised Lommel 2-1....
