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Slovan Bratislava (away) - Man Utd
A Postcard from Bratislava
Another Thursday, another away trip. Except this one starts on Wednesday. 4-00am Gatwick
Airport, you can't beat it. Early morning pleasantries were exchanged with someone in the
check-in queue who informed me he was on this plane having missed the flight he was booked
on yesterday when 'he got his days mixed up'. It was at thatpoint I knew Chelsea were
taking some of their top boys out for this one!
We were ferried to our destination by the internationally reknowned Peach Air who's
stewardess got a much easier time, particularly during the life-jacket demonstration, than
on previous foreign trips. The extremely early departure of this trip and the relative
sobriety prevailing no doubt dampened that legendary witty repartee. The reception at
Bratislava Airport was pretty low-key with only a handful of gun or dog toting police
visible - a big contrast to Zaragosa when they had the armoured personnel carriers out.
After being dumped at the hotel where the 'overnighters' had stayed and an unsuccessful
attempt to raise some known acquaintances there (probably still in the casino) we hopped
in a taxi and headed for the city centre. As we drove through the suburbs the first thing
to strike me was the complete lack of any building older than 30-40 years. It was just
endless mid-height concrete constructions with a lot of waste land inbetween and yes,
there were a lot of Skodas. Our journey was hastened when our driver jumped a
quarter-of-a-mile queue of traffic and was still let in at the traffic lights at the end.
I must try that one when leaving Liverpool on Sunday.
It goes without saying that one of the highlights of foreign travel is being exposed the
scenes unfamiliar, to experience first-hand the subtle differences that exist between
cultures. Therefore our day was made when our taxi dropped us off right outside Tesco's
(and I had forgotten to bring my loyalty card as well).
Having had our fill of concrete for the time being we set off in search of the old town
and also, following some of the reports and warnings given over the last few weeks, on a
'Spot the Skinhead Competition'. We headed down a narrow backstreet and walked for
sometime around similar featureless streets before turning a corner and finding
ourselves...back at Tesco's. By now we had come across several groups of similarly
wandering Chelsea fans with the standard topic of conversation seeming to be along the
lines of, 'Have you found anything worth seeing yet.' Some far-sighted soul suddenly
produced a guidebook. Not to be discouraged by it's opening lines of 'Most visitors are
disappointed with Bratislava', we decided to set off in search of the Grey Danube. This we
quickly found (it must be living in London that leads to an expectation of cross-city
travel being time consuming in nature) and, considering how far we were from its estuary,
it is certainly one mighty river with one weird, asymmetrical bridge traversing it.
It was now time for a sit down and a drink and unbeknown to us we chose a terrace cafe
just a few hundred yards from the players' hotel. Prices were predictably cheap with a
round of five beers and a coke coming to about 3-50 and this was far from the
cheapest we were to come by during the day. While sitting outside this cafe we at last
spotted the first skinhead of the day - a violent, anti-social disaffected youth from the
slums who I am informed goes by the name
of Frank Leboeuf. It was rather a surprise to see the players wandering around on their
own, resplendent in their club tracksuits. Shortly after waving to Frank, the unmistakable
silhouette of Gustavo Poyet was seen approaching down a dark alleyway. He seemed quite
pleased to be greeted by a group of friendly faces and a ripple of applause. After posing
for a few photos he wandered off in the direction of the hotel. We also witnessed the
Bates-Hutchinson double act disappearing into the restaurant next door.
Inspite of the temptation to sit there all day, and the frequent rain, we decided we had
to 'do' some more Bratislava so we headed off once again in search of the old town and
were soon back at Tesco's. Heading beyond here we finally struck gold when we stumbled
upon Mozart's House. I must say this was a slight surprise
as we had been unaware that Mozart had ever lived in Bratislava. I think Mozart would be
quite surprised about it as well as, according to our trusty guide book he had never lived
there and had simply been invited to visit this illustrious building at the age of six.
Next we found a small market which stocked amongst other things traditional Slovakian
football rattles. It was while taking photos outside this market
(known as 'The market where the paper for Mozart's invitation was bought') we encountered
our one moment of unpleasantness with locals when a middle-aged gentleman walked up to us
a uttered that most hurtful of all abusive comments -"Capitalists!!" I wouldn't
normally mind but it's been years since I last owned the means of production!
Thirsty again by now, we decided to try The Bar Where the Postman who Collected Mozart's
Invitation Used to Drink. This was packed with Chelsea fans who did not seem mightily
enamoured with the fact you had to insert 2sk (about 4p) into a slot each time you wanted
to open the toilet door. After much elaborate chain pissing with the door constantly held
open some bright spark attempted to wedge the door only managing to remove it from its
hinges. Needless to say the
police were soon present and with the culprit long gone they randomly selected someone for
arrest. At this point we quickly paid our bill and tactically withdrew. On the way out
negotiations appeared to have reached the stage whereby the bar owner was demanding a fee
to the equivalent of 400 pounds to replace the door.
There was now just time to visit the castle which overlooks the whole city centre. It was
certainly worth the climb, past Tesco's and a statue of the man writing that invitation to
Mozart, as the view from the top was pretty impressive. You could see both Austria and
Hungary from here which may not be all that astounding as both borders are a matter of
miles away and also several distant towns or cities. The most eye-catching feature of the
vista was Bratislava south of the Danube which appeared to be one massive high-rise,
concrete housing estate. We are talking seriously large here! Literally thousands of
dwellings. It puts the likes of Chalkhill and Stonebridge Park into perspective.
The hour had come to return to the hotel and with one final walk past Tesco's we found a
cab and headed back to find a lobby full of inebriated fans in full cry. Everyone climbed
aboard coaches and headed for The Mozart's House's Neighbour Memorial Stadium were we were
subjected to the by now traditional eurofarce with regards to entering the stadium. One
turnstile for all Chelsea fans (approx. 1500) and a complete 'hands up against wall, legs
apart' body search to slow things down further. The price of entry was 1-10. The
crush outside was hardly helped by the state of some of the fans, several of whom were
incapable of standing unaided and one bloke had even pissed himself!
"What did you do yesterday then?"
"Oh, I got up at 2-00 in the morning, flew halfway across Europe at
the cost of 230 quid and got so pissed I don't remember anything
about it." Twats!!
Inside, the stadium really reminded me of a pre-East Stand Stamford Bridge (or at least
how I imagine it must have been); two curved, open ends behind the goal, a shack-like
stand on one side and something akin to our old West stand on the other with similar
distances from the pitch. The away section was bizarrely policed with big fences and heavy
manpower bisecting the Chelsea fans and only a temporary barrier with gaps as the
separation from the Slovan fans. Along this and other borders a brisk trade was taking
place for programmes whose sale was strangely absent in our sector. Slovan fans were
parting with them for inflated prices or Chelsea scarfs until one Chelsea fan upped the
ante by exchanging a current away shirt for one. The cover price of a programme was about
5p.
The stadium must have been under half full and the atmosphere was anything but
intimidating. It was quickly apparent the pitch was not the best with the passes holding
up and the ball bobbling nastily. Just to add the trying conditions, what was to
eventually become a gale force wind was starting to rise.
The game started as it was to continue, Chelsea having the lion's share of possession and
strolling around at a most leisurely pace. Our early attempts to play the ball forward
ended with Flo or Vialli illegally dumped on their arses. This tactic received no
discouragement from the ref. and so naturally persisted and it was most unjust when
Lambourde was later cautioned for what looked a clean challenge but resulted in a
spectacular tumble from the Slovan player. Throughout the game the acrobatic value of the
fall appeared to be proportional to the chance of the opponent getting booked.
Bratislava's passing was very poor and the only danger at the Chelsea end was entirely
self-inflicted with Wise and Leboeuf failing to find each other a couple of times and that
wombat De Goey kicking straight at their forward on two occasions. Against a better
striker....
At the other end Petrescu had a good chance when he got behind the defence but was blocked
and from where we were standing (on our seats) Vialli had a blatant penalty denied when he
turned inside and beat his marker but was hauled down. We didn't have to wait much longer
for our just desserts when an attempted hack-out from their defence hit Vialli and
cannoned onto the cross-bar and down. We thought it had come out and had been cleared but
then noticed both officials at
that end retreating to the halfway line. Tie over. The only really bad points of the half
were the bookings Poyet and Di Matteo received in addition to Bernie's.
At half-time a piece of prime Europop at it's most magnificent was played over the PA
which resulted in one mass, mocking disco in the Chelsea end much to the amusement of the
local constabulary. If Channel Five picked any of it up there are going to be some very
embarrassed people watching their videos today. 'We're pissed and we know we are.'
What is there to say about the second-half apart from training match. With a big game on
Sunday it was great to see maximum gain from minimum pain and it was little surprise to
see key players substituted. We got to see Babayaro at last and he looked a mouth-watering
proposition. It appears Ruud may hope he can do a
similar job on the left to that of Dan on the right when the opposition so requires. It
was he who created the first real chance of the half when his good ball in set-up Vialli
to shoot against the far post. The second goal was born out of a period of sustained
pressure with the play switching wings with ease. Vialli can add an
assist to his goal when he found Di Matteo at the far post who brought the ball down and
finished from close in.
I cannot fathom the Slovan tactics at all. They now needed five goals and still they had
practically everyone behind the ball . The extent of their ambition really did seem to be
to avoid a stuffing. All the threats were Chelsea's. Leboeuf had a free-kick well saved,
an indirect free-kick awarded for a back-pass was wasted when quickly taken, and Nicholls
squandered a break by cutting inside when a shot was required. Flo also missed out at the
last a few times. In the last couple of games his infront of goal work has largely
consisted of highly skilled 'nearlys'. It is reaching the point now where one or two of
them must bear fruit.
In the last five minutes Chelsea let their guard slip a bit and a shot was blocked, De
Goey showed good concentration to tip over an unexpected long range shot and one of their
lot headed over badly.
Overall, no-one in the team deserves much criticism and I thought Frank Sinclair played as
well as anyone. Lambourde looked assured at centre-back particularly when turning his
opponent.
So it was a happy, if rapidly fading, band that piled on to the coaches to catch our
heavily delayed flights which meant plenty of time for the locusts to completely strip the
departure lounge bar. We touched down at Gatwick at 2-45am.
Final verdict on the match - Chelsea played as well as they had to beat poor, unambitious
opposition.
Final verdict on Brataslava - Shabby but it was interesting to see
a what a post-communist Eastern European industrial city is like.
Just the once.
Liverpool is actually going to seem quite glamorous!
By the way, Beefy was the only skinhead we saw all day.
Man Utd. away
I wonder how the fans of other teams feel as they are walking towards Old Trafford? I
would not mind betting trepidation and nervousness feature quite high up on their list of
emotions. Last night, while making this journey I experienced none of this. We have got
something out of this game so many times now I am completely anaesthetised to the supposed
formidability of this fixture. I certainly know how I felt on the way out though - more
contemptuous of that club and their
mentally deranged manager than ever before.
T'was only a few years back that on hearing the two teams read out I would think
"Jesus, practically everyone of those players is better than our's" (we would
still beat them regularly though!). This is quite clearly no longer the case. Having a
team of whom so many had succeeded there before must have helped as Chelsea oozed
confidence from the very start. Having said that we had a narrow escape in the very first
minute when an unmarked Scholes headed a cross wide. Chelsea were playing their, by now
familiar, Old Trafford tactics of allowing Man U. to bring the game to them and then
picking the ball off them as it was played up to the forwards. Is there a better player in
the world for this sort of defending than Frank Leboeuf? Thedefensive line was reinforced
by having two players, Wise and Lambourde, effectively playing the holding role, sitting
in front of the back four.
After about ten minutes you could sense Chelsea fancied their chances as possession became
easier and easier to come by and we started to exert some real pressure on the Utd.
defence. Poyet was particularly prominent at this stage, nicking the ball away from
tackles and maintaining and accelerating the forward momentum of the counter-attacks. When
I heard we had signed a Uruguayan with a reputation for headed goals, the last thing I
expected was a graceful, balanced player but he appeared to glide through this game.
After about twenty minutes Le Saux, halfway into their half, shaped to play the ball out
to an overlapping player before cutting inside and striking a powerful shot which was too
straight at Schmeichel to cause problems. But no! What's this? He's only gone and failed
to hold it, knocked it in the direction of one of his defenders who's returned it with
interest over the red-nosed one's head. Cue
pandemonium in the Chelsea corner of the ground. No-one seemed to have a clue who had put
the ball in and quite frankly no-one gave a shit.
Chelsea now took a real grip on the game, one swift break saw Le Saux cross to Hughes
who's header was sharply saved by Schmeichel. United of course had their share of attacks
but fortunately most of them ended up involving Poborsky or Cole at some stage. The former
did win a few free-kicks by fair and foul methods and from one such kick Pallister sent a
searing header crashing onto the crossbar. Beckham was constantly a threat with his deep
crosses from the right and there
was time for some trademark Roy Keane violence with Poyet again one of his targets. I
doubt whether it is anything personal, it's probably more the case that the positions they
play in means Poyet comes within ten yards of Keane more often than anyone else which
seems to be all the provocation necessary.
I am sure any neutral present would have been putting his money on only one team to score
as half-time approached. Then came the big incident. A long ball from the back and
suddenly there was Cole, all alone, bearing down on goal. It looked all the world to us
that he was offside (when's Andy Cole ever timed a run for christ sake?) and the referee
put his whistle to his lips to blow but on seeing his suspicions not confirmed by the
bloke with the flag he resisted. It says all you need to know about a) Andy Cole's bottle
and b) Andy's Cole's intelligence that he pulled that ball across to Scholes risking a
narrow offside for the second time.
Can you imagine Shearer or Wright not shooting from there?
The Chelsea fans, players and bench were united in their anger. I have seen no TV coverage
of this match but from reports it sounds like no offside occurred. Make no mistake, it was
Andy Cole the crowd believed to be offside and I am pretty sure the players thought the
same. Prolonged protests ensued with Gullit heavily involved and of course Old Grape-Face
Ferguson could not resist putting his oar
in, engaging the linesman in prolonged conversation - "Don't let them get at you son,
you're doing a grand job."
The feeling of (unjustifiable?) outrage was exacerbated by the fact Chelsea had the game
in a headlock leading up to then and the home crowd was completely dead. Up until the goal
they may well have been observing that protest for all we knew. Predictably the Man U.
crowd and players lifted their performance and Chelsea showed an unprofessional side,
never completely recovering their discipline
again with even Zola loosing his cool at one point. I only saw the Wise-Beckham incident
out of the corner of my eye as I was concentrating on the original foul but conditioning
led me to assume Wise had 'done' Beckham. Whatever had occurred, it singled out Wise for
abuse from the crowd from then on but even this was pretty feeble. I have heard him booed
a lot louder and a lot longer by smaller crowds than this one before!!
As with the first-half, the more the second-half progressed the stronger Chelsea got,
especially when Zola started to find space out wide. Hughes missed a promising chance and
Poyet almost air-kicked a Zola pull-back in front of goal. A great passing move resulted
in a Petrescu shot which Schmeichel saved well when he really should have had no chance.
At the other end De Goey did well to get down sharpish and hold a couple of rasping shots
from distance. I won't go into too much detail over the United efforts as they are bound
to have been featured heavily on Match of the Day but they had a few. The bookings
continued to mount up on both sides, some deserved, some not, but how Nicky Butt stayed on
the pitch defies belief. He went round polishing his boots on any shin available even
after getting booked and then clipped Poyet's heels from behind when the Uruguayan was
bursting towards goal. If Wise had done the same thing he would have not even have had to
look at the referee before heading tunnelwards.
About quarter-of-an-hour from the end another swift counter put Petrescu away on the right
and his low swinging cross just evaded Zola (boo), a defender (hurrah), Schmeichel
(hurrah) but not Hughes (Hurrrrrrrrrraaaaaahhhhh!!!)
Pandemonium squared in the Chelsea corner.
Five minutes later Lambourde should have started ten minutes of partying when right-down
infront of us he played a one-two with Poyet only for his second-touch to let him down and
allow Schmeichel to perform the necessaries.
Sheringham had come on and he missed a sitter and we really started to believe we were
going to do it again. Just as I was thinking of trying to get last year's classic 'You
came all this way and you lost' going Beckham swung over another cross, Leboeuf didn't get
the required touch and Solskjaer didn't mess around. Head-in-hands time.
It is hard to find many faults in the performance. De Goey did fairly well, punching
strongly in addition to the afforementioned saves. Paul Hughes, while not destined to
become the next Ron Harris did a job out there while Le Saux did not get forward much but
then he was having to deal with Beckham who you have to admit is a class act. If he's not
careful, Andy Myers is going to find himself the subject of a multi-million pound bid from
Ferguson as not for the first time he played Andy Cole out of the game, taking advantage
of the latter's suspect touch to nip the ball away from him on numerous occasions.
The whole midfield was superb. Wise had a stormer again, Poyet was my man of the match and
Lambourde put his indifferent display in the reserves on Monday behind him to show a lot
of class. A worthy addition to the squad.
Make no mistake, Chelsea were the better side especially where passing was concerned and
showed true character to get the season back on the rails and pointing in the right
direction after Sunday's hiccup. Needless to say, the support was magnificent. The sense
of injustice (can't wait to see the video) was not helped by hearing Ferguson's comments
about the game on their radio station on
the way back. Do you think I am being a bit harsh if I declare him to be the most
loathsome being on the entire planet? Possibly of all time?
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