Showing posts with label Wolverhampton Wanderers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wolverhampton Wanderers. Show all posts

Monday, 6 May 2013

They Think It's All Over - well my playing days probably are now - #19 on my list

They Think It's All Over - well my playing days probably are now - #19 on my list


Number 19 - my childhood dream. To step out on the pitch at Molineux - and score a goal.

I spent years as a kid wondering what it would be like. Literally dreaming sometimes of pulling on the famous old gold and black of my home city and scoring the winning goal in a cup final. But, alas, my talent was never quite enough to take me to that level - but I did score a few in my time (as well missing an awful lot too!).

But today - that was all going to change.

Today - I was going to step out on the pitch, flanked by my two big brothers, Ian and Alex - to play on the pitch that I've admired for more than twenty years (apart from that one season with Glenn Hoddle when it had some sort of fungal infection).

It was nice to have Mom and Dad there too. I'm sure they were quite proud to see their boys run out on the field of play together. Dad gave up hours of his time when we growing up to coach us and our friends - and Mom, well, our washing machine took a bit of a hammering over the years - and she was rather good at selling raffle tickets at half time in the lashing rain against Oldswinford and Trysull Tigers. Although mom's still have a way of embarassing you. One memory leaps to mind. A Sunday afternoon match at Windsor playing fields and I've just launched one of my trademark hoof balls down the other end of the pitch when I hear my mom shout "Jamie, why did you do that - you're shooting the wrong way". I then had to explain that at half time you swap ends. Oh well.

As for the match - I didn't feel I could pen an accurate reflection on my performance - so instead let me hand over to my first guest blogger - Adam Shakespeare:


"At 1pm on a fine Bank Holiday Monday, twenty-two strangers (mostly) emerged from the tunnel onto the finest pitch in League 1 football. Three of those men were the Angus brothers; united to play the beautiful game as a momentous occasion and for the youngest sibling, Jamie, to fulfil number 19 on his list of 30 things to do before he’s 30; score a goal at Molineux.

Just like his namesake on his shirt, Maierhoffer, it seemed Jamie was unlikely to score at first, based on the warm-up. But we shall put that down to nerves. He took his place as left-back and it was fair to say, he was a very attacking player. He was this team’s Glen Johnson. Unfortunately the opposition took an early lead, and you got the impression this bunch of strangers were not as new to each other as our home side. Once he got his momentum however, Angus Jr was making some nice moves including a bone-crunching, efficient but fair tackle to close down an attack from the away side. In fact, all Angus brothers were squaring up to be pretty good defensive players.
Half time came and the afternoon heat was already taking its toll (it was doing the same to the spectators too!) When the players emerged, fresh on tactics and energy, Jamie took position further up the field as “Wing Wizard”, as he liked to called himself, and was producing some quality runs and crosses from the left wing. As one spectator commented, “he takes a good corner”, and it was true. One of which almost went into the goal, had the keeper not tipped it over the bar. However, one of the many great corners led to the goal scored by the home side. If the quality up-front had met that of the support from the team as a whole, the home side’s striker would have scored at least 3 more goals and won the match. However, there were a couple sitters that should have been buried in the net, but fatigue had set in and alas, it was not meant to be.
 
The final whistle blew, our home side were unlucky, and number 19 had not been achieved. However, I did hear one person say, “it’s the best game here all season”, which was actually pretty plausible. But there was one thing left to do….
 

Angus is running up the left wing, switches to the right, the goal is in sight….. They think it’s all over, it is now."
 
*Irritatingly I can't embed the video - but here's proof that I did eventually achieve #19 on my list.

Sunday, 5 May 2013

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...sort of

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...sort of

Well they do say blondes have more fun.
Well, I've just returned home from my very first trip to the seaside city of Brighton.

What we had hoped last July would be a celebratory trip, basking in the May Day Bank Holiday sunshine with Wolves reclaiming its rightful spot amongst England's footballing elite, turned out to be cold, drizzly and quite frankly miserable.

Football, like religion, is completely illogical. As an atheist, I can dismiss the latter - but for some unknown reason the faith and belief in the former is unwavering and defies logic. With the one I can dismiss it through lack of empirical evidence - yet despite years of soul searching, anguish and torment, my devout following of my football club remains steadfast. Years of evidence points to little but disappointment, angst and emotional dishrevellement ahead. But year after year, disappointment after disappointment, I turn up at the holy golden shrine week in week out.

You stupid boy.
One down - nine to go. Decent pie at the AMEX too

I - as with all Wolves fans, am stupid. For you see Einstein famously defined stupidity as "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Albert had clearly been to Molineux on a Tuesday night after a bore draw against Swindon Town.

Our season has been pitiful from start to finish. There's something toxic running through the heart of the club. The fans are bewildered and shellshocked. Twelve months ago today we were lining up to face Everton in the Premier League - by August we'll have pencilled in away trips to Crawley, Leyton Orient and Yeovil. Never in my living memory have we been in the third tier of English football.



I was honoured to meet Steve Morgan
and Jez Moxey prior to kick off
Much has been written about Wolves' demise - reality is I don't think anyone knows what's happened. The fans are split between blaming the owner, the Chief Executive, successive managers, the players - and dare I say this, we fans have probably played our own small part too. A whole catalogue of disastrous decisions has led to this - and where we go from here, I'm not sure anyone knows.

On the positive side - I got soaking wet and spent the coldest night of my life in a tent.

Yet despite the agony of a second successive relegation I witnessed something yesterday which gave me hope. Not particularly in Wolves - but in Brighton & Hove Albion.

What a wonderful club it is. A lovely new stadium, a good team and manager, and a club which has a real feel of the community about it. I really hope they reach the Premier League this year - it feels like a city which deserves it.

I read a really interesting article this week by the Secret Footballer. If Brighton secure top flight football this season perhaps the taboo subject of gay footballers will finally come to the fore. We're in 2013 and yet there are no professional footballers who are out. Of 92 football league clubs-  each with a squad of around 30 - statistics dictate that there must be a sizeable gay community. Yet, in the shadow of poor Justin Fashanu, footballers are still not ready to come out. Brighton is a city which appears to wear its reputation as the gay capital of the UK as a badge of honour. If they reach the top - perhaps the issue of homophobia in the game will finally be addressed. After a sad week as a Wolves fan - I was pleased that I didn't hear any homophobic abuse towards the Brighton crowd...gives me hope that our club isn't completely poisonous after all.

But all is not lost - I managed to visit a new football league ground - only 9 more to go until I complete #28 on my list.

So despite ruining my weekend (or indeed entire season), tomorrow I shall forgive them. In fact, I shall once again be in awe of that club. For tomorrow I shall attempt to achieve number 19 on my list: Score a goal on the pitch at Molineux.

At 1pm I'll set foot on the hallowed turf for the first ever time. I'll line up alongside my brothers, Ian and Alex, to play in a friendly match against a group of other fans. The cynic in me says it's the club's final chance to squeeze a few quid out of the fans before the season ends. But I'll park my cynicism for a moment - this could be my chance - my chance to step over those white lines and plant the ball high into the roof of the net. It will be a childhood dream come true. Ok - I won't have 28,000 home fans screaming my name in adulation as I jump over the advertising hoardings and into the South Bank, kissing the badge - but I'm sure my mom will be ever so proud.

However much pain and angst the club causes - and as a fan I've never felt so disconnected with my club as I do right now - I know that most will be forgiven as I set foot inside that famous ground tomorrow.

I'll let you know how it goes.

But in the meantime - I'll leave you with this - from Brighton's most famous musical export...











turned out to