Wilderspool Causeway

Armed with pre-match instructions and a squad rotation policy which makes Rafa Benitez seem like a relatively linear-minded fellow, we arrived at the Olympiastadion of Berlin without a clear mandate to impose the ultra-pragmatic and attritional tactics which might have kept the scoreline within quantifiable parameters. Instead, when quizzed in the pre-match team talk as to which skills they would need to use in the game, 3 hands went up: ‘Cruyff turn’, ‘drag back’ and ‘rainbow flick.’ Oh dear. Our mentions of passing, tackling, shooting and Catenaccio were met with squints of incomprehension. In no way do I wish to denigrate the work of the usual coaches, though. Leading this team to victories and near misses while emphasising flair and creativity is an almost miraculous achievement, and not something I or my co-manager could come anywhere near to replicating. In fact, the temporary partnership got off to a catastrophic start with a blazing row after training on Thursday, and never quite recovered:

Andrew: ‘Do you want to take the stuff then?’
Me: ‘Ok’
Andrew: ‘Well I could take it if you want?’
Me: ‘No it’s Ok, I’ll do it. See you on Saturday.’

See, you never know what’s going on behind the scenes. Everyone you meet is engaged in a battle you’re not aware of, and all that, sometimes by text message or e-mail. Just in case you think I’m running out of caveats and excuses, the final nail in the pre-match coffin was the farce of the anthems. As Wokingham and Emmbrook Black were the nominal home team, they kept the Wokingham club anthem of ‘Never Forget’ by Take That and therefore went into the match fairly buoyant and not at all forgetting where they were coming from. The Oranges, proud to be a mixed team, were unaccountably left with an English adaptation of Cardiff City’s ‘Men of Harlech’, called ‘Men of Trowbridge.’ This went on for 6 and a half minutes with Ciara, Amelia and the boys dutifully trying their best with the lyrics sheet:

Loud the martial pipes are sounding
every manly heart is bounding
As our trusted chief surrounding,
march we Trowbridge men.

Frightened steeds are wildly neighing
Brazen trumpets loudly braying
Wounded men for mercy praying
With their parting breath.

See they’re in disorder,
Comrades, keep close order
Ever they shall rue the day,
They ventured o’er the Wiltshire border.

Once the game was under way, we conceded a goal within 1.3 seconds but then managed to steady the ship for 3 or 4 minutes before an avalanche of goals began and didn’t cease until the final whistle. After the first quarter we were heartened to observe a significant contingent of Oranges fans from the Milton Road area of Wokingham arrive with Costa coffees. Influenced by Newcastle fans leaving J.D. Wetherspoon’s in Shepherd’s Bush 5 minutes after kick-off, they launched into a chorus of ‘Never seen a kick-off, never seen a kick-off, never seen a kick-off in me life’ and maintained an absolute racket throughout the game, pogoing unwaveringly despite the catastrophic manner in which the match unravelled. It would have been nice if they refrained from joining in with ‘You’re getting sacked in the morning!’ while we were trying to deliver the half-time team talk though.

Every time the Blacks got the ball, they were either preparing to score or scoring (often brilliantly): every time we got the ball, we were either trying to execute an exotic skill or an ill-advised lunge. Some of the goals, such as a lob into the far corner when the keeper wasn’t even off the line, were truly outrageous and there’s no possible way to begrudge them the victory. After the game, Evan said ‘Can we go to Tokyo soon?’, summing up the mood nicely. Further salt was rubbed into the wound when we parked on Norrey’s Avenue to prepare for a restorative sojourn in town only to discover that Evan had left his Star Wars hoodie on the pitch. After initial panic, this turned into a much needed false sense of catharsis as young Jamel was able to go back to Berlin on our behalf to find it.