The Cray Wins - FA Cup Odyssey Part 3

Crikey. The early rounds of the FA Cup creep up on you quickly. Yesterday was Preliminary Round day. The Essex Senior league teams in general had had a mare in the previous round so my choice was pretty limited locally. Without a car my options further afield were dictated by public transport. I don't have any specific idea where Cray is or indeed where the Crays are but I do know that Cray Wanderers are long standing tenants of Bromley; whose ground I've wanted to visit for a while. Cray were at home to Molesey who are currently tearing up the Combined Counties Premier division and had scored 11 in the last round. A glance at the Isthmian Division 1 North table told me that Cray were propping it up. Higher division strugglers against free scoring lower division form side. This had cup magic written all over it!

This & they are cool. (no pisstake)

I've seen Bromley's Hayes Lane ground described as one of London's must do non-league grounds. It's great, loads of terraces and barriers; a blast from the past. Bromley doesn't really feel like London though. It feels like a place with a town centre and really its existence as a London borough feels like some sort of administrative oversight. Anyway, HG Wells & Siouxsie Sioux are what Bromley brings to my mind; the reality is a little more quotidian if opulent. London it is though. A little far south of the river for my comfort but the journey is an easy one now that Blackfriars is open again. I'm even less a trainspotter than a groundhopper but catching a train from Blackfriars bridge should be on a to do list for tourists in London.

Unfortunately, while the tie may have had cup magic written all over it the shock I had expected didn't materialise. The opening exchanges were pretty even and you could see the attacking threat that Molesey undoubtedly possess. However, they imploded somewhat when they went behind slightly against the run of play. From then on the referee was in the spotlight. Molesey felt with some justification that they were being pulled up on everything while Cray were getting away with a bunch of stuff. Ironically the dismissal of the Molesey left back for 2 yellows wasn't really disputed (much) but everything else was. The Molesey fans felt hard done by while the Cray massive enjoyed winding them up. For a 15 minute spell the team went to pieces and ended up two down by the time the half time whistle was blown. For my part I didn't think that the ref had a bad game but Cray were the cannier side when it came to the rough stuff.

The match wasn't played at the highest pace...

So down to 10 and 2 down. No cup magic here. Except, nearly, so nearly. A couple of minutes into the second half Molesey had a penalty as their centre back was manhandled from a corner. It was a weak penalty and the Cray keeper made easy work of it. He boasted afterwards to a crowd member that the penalty taker had been watched and his kick predicted. Preparation is key at all levels. Within minutes the keeper had almost given Molesey another way back into the game but he easily dealt with the one on one his error had created. 

Penalty about to be smothered

Molesey plugged away but with 7 minutes left they fell 3 behind. They really went for it after that and scored a great little goal to set up a surprisingly tense finish as they looked for the 2 goals they needed for the draw. It wasn't to be and the real shame was that what was an engaging tussle was overshadowed by the moaning and whinging by both sides. I would wager though that the Molesey players will probably have more to celebrate come the season's end.

Politely querying the ref's decision

Only in non-league pt 1: The voluble away supporter loudly berating the ref's impartiality while pushing a buggy up and down the touchline.

Only in non-league pt 2 The Cray supporters amusingly referring to one of their players as Cesc due to his resemblance to Sr Fabregas. Except that Cesc was his name.

Lost in N17 - The Europa League and Other Adventures

White Hart Lane is where it all started for me. When I moved to London, Walthamstow to be  precise, at the age of 8 I wasn't particularly interested in football. However, within minutes of starting primary school it was obvious that football was my way in. I entered a world of Panini stickers and playground kickabouts. That school in Walthamstow was overwhelmingly Spurs. 1982 was a good time to be a Tottenham fan too. The previous season they had beaten Manchester City in the FA Cup final and they would again lift the trophy at the end of the season in which I arrived in London. I very quickly became a Spurs fan. A couple of years later I was considered old enough to be taken to a real match. An early season game against Leicester City that ended in a 2-2 all was my first taste of live football. By the time I went to my third Tottenham match 3 years later (against Liverpool in their opening 29 game unbeaten salvo) I was already an Orient fan; I never looked back. Before this week I had been back twice though.

Walsall the Fuss About?

I wasn't planning on going to watch Leyton Orient play Walsall yesterday. It's a not a fixture to get the pulse racing. I say that as an Orient fan and I expect the feeling on the Walsall side is mutual. However, having not planned to be at a huge number of Orient games this season I suddenly find myself in possession of a season ticket. So there you go and there I went. Faced with attending a game I realised that I possibly wasn't as over the play off final defeat as I had thought. But seeing your team for the first time each season is always an enticing prospect and I looked forward to it. I hadn't gone to the first game of the season. The idea of the hubris that was likely to be present in the stands turned me right off. From the online reaction to the defeat against I felt I had made the right decision. So for me this was the first of the season. New players to size up, changes to check and all the rest. So it was a real shame that the game itself was such a dud.

The Road to Wembley (and Beyond)

The road beyond Wembley leads, in this instance, to Kettering. But more of that later. Looking at the early rounds of the FA Cup through the prism of Wembley FC is now an enduring cliche. Like many clubs in greater London Wembley eke out an existence on attendances that rarely reach 3 figures. Like no others they do so sharing one of the most iconic monikers in football with the national stadium just up the road. I imagine that this fact seems far more relevant the further away you are from either Wembley. 

The Magic of the Cup is About to Commence

The FA Cup's Here! Here Being Waltham Forest

Ah, the magic of the cup. I got myself keener than normal for the start of this season's FA Cup. I particularly enjoyed the contrast between the first knocking of the FA Cup and the overblown extravaganza that is the Premier League cranking itself into action on the same weekend.

The main stand positioned behind the floodlights

That's Abbot Your Lot

No social media experiments last night. I went to pick my mate up with options open but with a hankering for Thurrock. By the time I got to Loughton the sensible thing was to head to Waltham Abbey. It also gave my mate an opportunity for a cash point run followed by a quick fire trip to McDonald's. What these errands meant was getting there about 30 seconds before kick off and missing out on a programme. I'm far from obsessed with programmes but I'd rather have one than not (though have long since given up on buying them at Orient in spite of the quality having improved significantly in recent times). I did politely decline the offer of one in the post. I'm not THAT bothered.

How Many Were There Going From St. Ives?

When the fixtures were announced there was no doubt in my mind that I would be at Orient watching them take on promoted Chesterfield. A couple of weeks ago I had decided that I would take in Clapton's visit to Haringey Borough but having seen Clapton pummel Ealing Town in a friendly I didn't need to scratch my Clapton itch 2 games in a row.

But where to go? In the end I conducted a social media experiment. I sent a tweet to 4 clubs asking them where I should go on the first day of the season. Of the 4 it seems that Haringey Borough and Rayners Lane set up accounts and then promptly forgot about them. So no reply from them. That left Wingate & Finchley and North Greenford United. I had no reason to expect anyone to answer but if I were a betting man I would've backed Wingate as they seem to to be pretty web savvy. I was wrong. Within 5 minutes North Greenford tweeted me back telling me West London was the place to be. So, off I went.

Fickle By Nature

So, I'm fickle. I'm a football fan; it's part of the job description isn't it? Some weeks before my last post I slumped drunkenly into my Wembley seat, head despairingly plunged in my hands. No Championship dreams for Orient. A 2 goal halftime lead had transformed into penalty shootout agony. Not to worry though, with the eternal foolish optimism of most fans I found myself not only drowning my sorrows in a pub round the corner from Baker Street tube. Not only that, I was getting excited about next season. I vowed to get a season ticket again.

I didn't though. I remembered the things I touched upon in my last post and decided against it and settled down to enjoy the World Cup. Then something strange happened. Francesco Becchetti, a mysterious Italian billionaire bought out Barry Hearn and became the new owner of Orient. Much excitement ensued as last season's squad was added to. Not only that but the newcomers were players that fans had heard of and rated. My money remained resolutely in my pocket as my levels of enthusiasm failed to increase at all. It all seems too good to be true and not very Orient. There seems to be very little information available in English about Becchetti. Why would a billionaire buy a club like Orient. We don't own our ground and even if he were to buy the lease from Hearn there is now next to no scope for development at Brisbane Road. That leaves the Olympic Stadium as spectre that hasn't been quite banished. I wish I could just enjoy the ride on the pitch but my suspicion of where we're headed off it. I'm not stopping supporting Orient but I can't see myself at Brisbane Road too many times this season. Obviously I leave myself open to accusations of not being a real fan but I'm not sure I've ever seen the rulebook.

So what does the season ahead hold for me? I've bemoaned the lack of a thriving non-league club in East London. Dagenham & Redbridge ate up all the candidates in the 80s. There is no Sutton United or Dulwich Hamlet round these parts. However, there is Clapton. The Clapton Ultras make taking in a few of their game an interesting prospect. I may even manage to see them win a league game. Waltham Forest struggle on and need all the support they can get. I'll be sure to get down to Dulwich a few times. I can't deny a club with its own lager. These are places that could probably do with my entrance money more than Orient at the moment.

I am lucky that I am happy to get my footballing kicks in a multitude a ways. I'm already forming plans. The romance of a daytrip to Glossop North End. Can I get to Dumfries and back in a day? I've always wanted to see Queen of the South. Maybe a trip to Belgium. The possibilities are if not endless difficult to exhaust in a season . I may even get round to getting to Wingate & Finchley. How can Finchley have so many tube stations and the ground be so far from all of them? I bet parking is murder too.

Of course, I may just end up back at Orient. If it all goes to plan on the pitch it may be too alluring to turn my back on it all despite my (admittedly nebulous) misgivings. Which is where I came in. I'm a football fan.

 I'm fickle.

A Stream of Consciousness Instead of Bothering With the England Peru Game

Crikey. It's almost 3 years since I last posted. What started out as a fun idea succumbed to the reality of working full time, bringing up children and most relevantly (and pretentiously) not really finding my voice. I'm not sure I've found my voice yet but I can feel a stream of consciousness coming on.

Back in 2010 I decided not to renew my Leyton Orient season ticket. What had been a pleasure had become a drudge. I had one mainly to save money. Once I bought I felt I couldn't miss any games to make sure I got my money's worth. So I stopped; and I felt liberated. Then, I remembered going to non-league games as a youngster. I started going to them again and felt even more liberated. In the end I went to more to football than I had in years. I still went to Orient but not as some kind of weird obligation to myself so that felt better too.

I had misgivings though. The Olympics hadn't happened yet but I was a bit suspicious of the prospect of that big stadium being built in Stratford. I wasn't bothered about a bigger side moving in next door (and I'm still not) but I was worried about an ambitious plan to take Orient there. This is a worry that still hasn't completely subsided. Because deep down I know that most routes away from Brisbane Road would mean me parting company permanently with the team I support sooner rather than later. So it's fair to say that as well as saving money and not feeling obligated to and spending more time with my family not renewing my season ticket was also a case of putting a bit of emotional distance between me and Orient before someone else did it for me.

It was both the sense of liberation I felt and the slightly dislocated sense of disillusionment I felt with Orient that gave birth to this blog. They weren't responsible parents though and this blog still died. (I still haven't decided whether this is a belated epitaph or a breath of new life!). And yet...and yet the annoyance that I had felt with top flight football continued to grow. The hype bored me. The mind games bored me.The vitriol bored and depressed me. For last couple of months I have been toying with the idea of giving next season a miss; at least in terms of professional football. I'll tackle the elephant in the room first. If Orient hadn't lost to Rotherham United and their cheating fraudulent manager in the play-off final I would have there with bells on for Orient's first season in the Championship for an aeon. I'm not that silly. Additionally, for no real logical reason, the World Cup is exempt from this disillusion. I'm fully aware of FIFA's dodginess but the World Cup is just about the only thing that can be relied upon to bring out the 8 year old boy in me and reignite that childlike feeling of excitement. For crying out loud, I was stood in the middle of a busy tube station concourse a few hours ago at the height of rush hour, swapping Panini football stickers. (Quite how they seem to have gone viral this year is another discussion in its own right.). I may struggle with the pre-tournament friendlies but I will be immersing myself in the World Cup completely. But do I fancy Premier League 2014/15? Not so much.

Money is the root of all evil. That's the easy explanation. To go a little deeper; it's the uneven distribution of the money and the sad fact that most fans don't care where the money comes from if it delivers (or at least promises to) results and trophies. But this week as I tried to expunge the memories of Orient's failed penalty shootout with thoughts of the World Cup by concentrating on sorting out my swaps and charging through the first few chapters of James Montague's Thirty One Nil that I had a slight epiphany. Money and football is a huge problem but it's not the thing souring my relationship with it. Perspective. The huge lack of perspective at almost every corner is what is doing it. Arsenal fans have bewildered me over the years with their desperation at being an well run solvent clubs that qualifies for the Champions League every year. My bewilderment grew at the utter jubilation at wining the FA Cup, a competition they rarely grace with their first choice XI. They're not the only culprits though. If it's not a foul it HAS to be a dive. If he's out of form he's worst player in the club's history. Very often the lack of perspective is greater the less likely people are to actually go to matches. Added to the ability talk about football online and often anonymously people lose all perspective and most of their dignity and the levels of vitriol spiral out of control. But the Proustian rush of memories caused by peeling stickers from their backing and Montague's account of no hope minnows playing full of caused me to remember that I can do football on my terms. I've got my own perspective.

The counter argument is that I don't care enough. Possibly so. But I care enough for me. I'll go to Orient games, watch Match of the Day on Sunday mornings, have occasional outings to the pub to watch Sky games, go to some non league games and maybe a game here or there further afield. I'm not quite ready to give up on the game yet.

Now, there's a World Cup about to be on. I'll probably be back griping about Mick McCarthy very soon.

tldr: Football's shit but I still love it.