It seems a bit odd really, that one of the favourite days in the calendar of many football fans across the country actually takes place in the middle of June, when their favourite players (not suffering from the recession of course) are no doubt sunning themselves somewhere hot and the closest thing around to competitive football is a FIFA tournament around your mates’ house.
There is however, something about 17 June that gives off a real sense of excitement and anticipation.
I am referring of course to the day on which the Premier and Football League fixtures for the upcoming season are released.
Naturally, there are some fans out there that don’t really care about the release of the fixtures, and I can guarantee that there won’t be too many QPR fans looking forward to Barnsley on a cold, wet January evening (Trust me though, there will be a few there anyway). However, I’d hazard a guess that the majority of football supporters are looking forward to at least one fixture already.
I’m sure the other 2000-odd QPR fans at Vicarage Road on 22 November last year will agree with my statement that it was one of the worst, most spineless performances in years. Living only minutes from Watford myself, I’ve not managed to live the banter down since, and am desperately seeking revenge for the 3-0 spanking. For that reason alone, I’d love Watford away on the first day.
Newcastle is another fixture that excites me. Growing up, I’ve always had a great deal of respect for a set of fans that I see as one of, if not the most passionate in the whole country. In addition, Alan Shearer was my hero as a kid and I’ve always wanted to visit St. James Park. I’m crossing my fingers that the away fixture will coincide with my 18th birthday, for reasons not totally related to football.
I’m sure there’ll be fans of many other championship clubs who will relish the journey to St. James Park (and Bloomfield Road for that matter), not to mention the weekend on the tiles sandwiched in-between.
Lastly, I hope that all teams are given a local fixture on Boxing Day. Only two Seasons ago, those who come up with the fixtures decided it would be a good idea to give QPR a nice easy journey to Plymouth of all places. (To rub salt into the wounds of the 698 travelling supporters, we lost with the last kick of the game).
Boxing Day was made for football, and making a team travel a long distance would not only subject them to the previous days undercooked Turkey, re-runs of “Wallace and Gromit” that your great Aunt Margaret can and does recite word for word, not to mention the horror of having to talk to the family.
The 2009/10 season promises to be another cracker and the publication of the fixtures is the first indication that the second Saturday in August is getting ever closer.
Monday 15 June 2009
World Cup Countdown
This Sunday (14th June) brought great excitement to me. The start of the Confederations cup had finally arrived.
Not that I’m really that interested in it at all. I’ll watch the games (Predominantly because I’m desperate to have one last drink from the cup of competitive football before the long drought otherwise known as pre-season begins) but being honest, I see the tournament as being up there with the Intertoto Cup and the World Club Championship for (its lack of) entertainment and meaning, not to mention purpose.
No, the reason that the Confederations Cup excites me is because it means that the next major international football Championship is just around the corner.
For me, despite being one of those who supports club over country, major International tournaments such as the World Cup (And the European Championships) provide the exception to the rule.
My first ever memory of football was the sheer excitement and anticipation that engulfed England during Euro ’96. Living less than 5 miles away from the world-famous Wembley Stadium, I was quickly infected with a bout of football fever so severe that I still haven’t been able to shake it off to this day. Despite my very young years, it still gives me great pride to look back on the unity that was present in the country.
You see, the tournament left such an impression on me that I can still remember many events as though they happened yesterday. From ‘Three Lions’ seemingly being played on a loop on every radio station and music channel in the country, to the delight that Shearer’s header from Adams’ flick-on in the semi-final brought not only to my very young self, but also to millions of others across the nation. Gareth Southgate’s miss in the shoot-out of the semi-final, coupled with Andreas Möller’s success from the spot triggered the first of many rivers of tears that I have shed whilst watching ‘The beautiful game’. I’m sure I’m not the only one who isn’t ashamed to admit that I cried my eyes out that night; just I have done on many other occasions following England since.
But as football fans, we will never learn. We will always come back for more, putting the inevitable heartbreak that is sure to occur aside for a few weeks. We’ll let the stream of media expectation carry us until it eventually trickles out and we’re all left heartbroken and thirsty for success once again.
I just love the excitement, unity and expectation that comes with a major international tournament. The sheer grand scale of it is fantastic. It’s almost as if the whole country just comes to a stand-still and jumps on the England supporting bandwagon. The amount of flags hanging out of windows pay testament to that.
Take the quarter final against Brazil in Japan 7 years ago as an example. Despite the differing time zones meaning that the game kicked off at 7:45AM, I can still remember the whole of my school being packed into our small hall to watch the game on a dodgy projector. Looking back on the roar that must have erupted from Vaughan School like a particularly volatile volcano when Michael Owen capitalised on Lucio’s error to dink the ball over the goalkeeper is something that still sends shivers down my spine to this day.
I think it’s the sheer passion, anticipation, hope and belief that grips the country harder than a child grabbing onto a rail whilst on a rollercoaster, that has caused me to become a total England fanatic. Born in England but with German blood, it’s the love of football, the real fervour that fills this country up whenever England compete in a major tournament that make me such a passionate English fan. I, like millions of others across the land, am just infatuated with these tournaments.
We try not to be, because the pain that follows defeat is almost as awful as not qualifying at all. But we believe nevertheless. We can’t help but believe that one day in the near future, the England team will emulate the actions of that of Sir Alf Ramsey’s of 1966. There will be no heartbreak then. The only tears that will fall will be tears of joy. It probably won’t happen next year. But you never know. And regardless of the result, you can be sure that once again, the whole nation will be caught up in the pandemonium that follows the World Cup.
Not that I’m really that interested in it at all. I’ll watch the games (Predominantly because I’m desperate to have one last drink from the cup of competitive football before the long drought otherwise known as pre-season begins) but being honest, I see the tournament as being up there with the Intertoto Cup and the World Club Championship for (its lack of) entertainment and meaning, not to mention purpose.
No, the reason that the Confederations Cup excites me is because it means that the next major international football Championship is just around the corner.
For me, despite being one of those who supports club over country, major International tournaments such as the World Cup (And the European Championships) provide the exception to the rule.
My first ever memory of football was the sheer excitement and anticipation that engulfed England during Euro ’96. Living less than 5 miles away from the world-famous Wembley Stadium, I was quickly infected with a bout of football fever so severe that I still haven’t been able to shake it off to this day. Despite my very young years, it still gives me great pride to look back on the unity that was present in the country.
You see, the tournament left such an impression on me that I can still remember many events as though they happened yesterday. From ‘Three Lions’ seemingly being played on a loop on every radio station and music channel in the country, to the delight that Shearer’s header from Adams’ flick-on in the semi-final brought not only to my very young self, but also to millions of others across the nation. Gareth Southgate’s miss in the shoot-out of the semi-final, coupled with Andreas Möller’s success from the spot triggered the first of many rivers of tears that I have shed whilst watching ‘The beautiful game’. I’m sure I’m not the only one who isn’t ashamed to admit that I cried my eyes out that night; just I have done on many other occasions following England since.
But as football fans, we will never learn. We will always come back for more, putting the inevitable heartbreak that is sure to occur aside for a few weeks. We’ll let the stream of media expectation carry us until it eventually trickles out and we’re all left heartbroken and thirsty for success once again.
I just love the excitement, unity and expectation that comes with a major international tournament. The sheer grand scale of it is fantastic. It’s almost as if the whole country just comes to a stand-still and jumps on the England supporting bandwagon. The amount of flags hanging out of windows pay testament to that.
Take the quarter final against Brazil in Japan 7 years ago as an example. Despite the differing time zones meaning that the game kicked off at 7:45AM, I can still remember the whole of my school being packed into our small hall to watch the game on a dodgy projector. Looking back on the roar that must have erupted from Vaughan School like a particularly volatile volcano when Michael Owen capitalised on Lucio’s error to dink the ball over the goalkeeper is something that still sends shivers down my spine to this day.
I think it’s the sheer passion, anticipation, hope and belief that grips the country harder than a child grabbing onto a rail whilst on a rollercoaster, that has caused me to become a total England fanatic. Born in England but with German blood, it’s the love of football, the real fervour that fills this country up whenever England compete in a major tournament that make me such a passionate English fan. I, like millions of others across the land, am just infatuated with these tournaments.
We try not to be, because the pain that follows defeat is almost as awful as not qualifying at all. But we believe nevertheless. We can’t help but believe that one day in the near future, the England team will emulate the actions of that of Sir Alf Ramsey’s of 1966. There will be no heartbreak then. The only tears that will fall will be tears of joy. It probably won’t happen next year. But you never know. And regardless of the result, you can be sure that once again, the whole nation will be caught up in the pandemonium that follows the World Cup.
Sunday 14 June 2009
"The beautiful game"
Recently, I’ve started to question my love for football. The game that I fell in love with years ago is changing rapidly, and as the era of diving, WAGs, inflated egos, wages and ticket prices continues its suppressive rule, I take a look back and realise just how beautiful the game really can be.
Berne, Switzerland, 14th July 1954, shortly before 7:00PM. A moment of magic from one man unites a country crippled by disgrace and sadness. A country packed full of horror, repression and destruction can finally smile again. A country bursting with poverty, shame and shock is finally able to be proud again.
You see, that’s the brilliance of football. I am, of course, referring to Helmut Rahn’s 84th minute winner for West Germany in the World Cup Final of 1954. Not even 10 years after the Germans had surrendered in World War Two, the country had been dragged up off its knees and was floating on the air of pure delight and pride.
On paper, the Germans had no chance. Gusztáv Sebes’ Hungary, including arguably one of the best players to ever grace a football pitch, Ferenc Puskás, were unbeaten in a staggering 32 games, a truly incredible run that had lasted 5 years along the way. The Hungarians were simply awesome. In 1953, a year before the iconic World Cup of ‘54 took place, they made history with the 6-3 annihilation of England, becoming the first team outside of the UK to win at Wembley in the process.
Whilst the Hungarians entered the tournament in a similar fashion to the assured student who’d constantly been revising for an exam months in advance, the Germans represented the student who’d picked up his textbook the night before and just hoped for the best. The country was still banned from competing at the 1950 World Cup, and had only played in a handful of games leading up to the tournament.
Hungary were widely seen as the favourites for the tournament, and when the eventual finalists met in the group stages they showed why, sweeping the Germans aside in a convincing 8-3 victory. Whereas the Hungarians reached the quarter-finals with all the elegance of a brand-new Lexus SC, West Germany’s means of transport into the knockout stages was more in the style of Delboy’s ‘Reliant Robin’ running low on fuel, eventually topped up prior to the 7-2 play-off win over Turkey.
Sebes’ team of professionals continued to go through the gears, winning the now infamous Battle of Berne 4-2 against a Brazilian side that had impressively finished runners up on their own turf in 1950. Even better was to follow at the semi-final stage, as the Hungarians, without key player Puskás, beat Uruguay 4-2 after extra time, becoming the first country to beat the South American country in a World Cup game in the process and securing their place in a final that the majority believed they’d be sure to win.
The German team of amateurs had started to improve rapidly, earning a hard-fought victory over Yugoslavia in the quarters, before demolishing Austria 6-1 in the semis, finally giving their war-torn country something to shout about.
Despite the Germans’ impressive tournament, many considered there to be only one winner when the two sides lined up on the 4th July, 1954. The Hungarians had brutally taken teams apart for years, and got off to a flyer, finding themselves 2-0 up after just 8 minutes. But this wasn’t the same German team that had entered the tournament. This team had grown, matured and developed a sense of determination to do their country proud. Who knows what it was that caused the change?! Perhaps the “krise” that the country had been going through brought the players together. It was clear nevertheless, that the Germans wanted success, and within 10 minutes of going 2-0 down, they were right back in the game at 2-2. Finally, after 84 minutes, Helmut Rahn scored the goal that would have a massive impact on millions of Germans, bringing momentary joy to a nation anguished by their depressing situation. ‘Das Wunder von Bern’ became a reality. West Germany were world champions.
For me, as a mad football fanatic, it is stories such as ‘Das Wunder von Bern’ that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and re-kindle my love for the game. And thankfully, stories like that of the German team in 1954 are not isolated, as the recent success of the Iraqi national team shows.
It’s arguable that Iraq’s recent development and subsequent success at a footballing nation is even more impressive than that of the Germans in 1954. Sadly for the Arabic nation, multiple wars hindered the promising progress made by the country in the mid 1980s (Iran qualified for the 1986 World Cup and had enjoyed success in many inter-Asian tournaments). Under the depressing rule of Uday Hussein, brother of Saddam, results started to drop. Players were threatened with violence and prison if they made errors and in 1996 Iraqi football reached its lowest ebb, finding themselves ranked 139 in the world in the FIFA rankings, their lowest ever standing. Things finally started to pick up, and the clear improvement was shown on a global stage when Iraq qualified for the 2004 Olympics. It was here where Iraq really caught the eye, beating not only respected nations such as Australia and Costa Rica but also a Portugal team including world stars Cristiano Ronaldo, Jose Bosingwa and also Fernando Meira on their way to finishing 4th and just missing the bronze medal. Once again, a nation savaged by the evil vultures of war had something to smile about, bringing joy to those suffering back at home.
The thought of the joy brought to the average German (and in the modern era Iraqi) family, huddled around a radio when the referee blew his whistle for the very last time remind me, that despite the ever-growing greed within football, however much it hurts whenever your team give away a last minute goal, or the heart-break that relegation brings (and believe me, as a QPR fan I know all about that) ‘the beautiful game’ can still be as gorgeous as it ever was.
Berne, Switzerland, 14th July 1954, shortly before 7:00PM. A moment of magic from one man unites a country crippled by disgrace and sadness. A country packed full of horror, repression and destruction can finally smile again. A country bursting with poverty, shame and shock is finally able to be proud again.
You see, that’s the brilliance of football. I am, of course, referring to Helmut Rahn’s 84th minute winner for West Germany in the World Cup Final of 1954. Not even 10 years after the Germans had surrendered in World War Two, the country had been dragged up off its knees and was floating on the air of pure delight and pride.
On paper, the Germans had no chance. Gusztáv Sebes’ Hungary, including arguably one of the best players to ever grace a football pitch, Ferenc Puskás, were unbeaten in a staggering 32 games, a truly incredible run that had lasted 5 years along the way. The Hungarians were simply awesome. In 1953, a year before the iconic World Cup of ‘54 took place, they made history with the 6-3 annihilation of England, becoming the first team outside of the UK to win at Wembley in the process.
Whilst the Hungarians entered the tournament in a similar fashion to the assured student who’d constantly been revising for an exam months in advance, the Germans represented the student who’d picked up his textbook the night before and just hoped for the best. The country was still banned from competing at the 1950 World Cup, and had only played in a handful of games leading up to the tournament.
Hungary were widely seen as the favourites for the tournament, and when the eventual finalists met in the group stages they showed why, sweeping the Germans aside in a convincing 8-3 victory. Whereas the Hungarians reached the quarter-finals with all the elegance of a brand-new Lexus SC, West Germany’s means of transport into the knockout stages was more in the style of Delboy’s ‘Reliant Robin’ running low on fuel, eventually topped up prior to the 7-2 play-off win over Turkey.
Sebes’ team of professionals continued to go through the gears, winning the now infamous Battle of Berne 4-2 against a Brazilian side that had impressively finished runners up on their own turf in 1950. Even better was to follow at the semi-final stage, as the Hungarians, without key player Puskás, beat Uruguay 4-2 after extra time, becoming the first country to beat the South American country in a World Cup game in the process and securing their place in a final that the majority believed they’d be sure to win.
The German team of amateurs had started to improve rapidly, earning a hard-fought victory over Yugoslavia in the quarters, before demolishing Austria 6-1 in the semis, finally giving their war-torn country something to shout about.
Despite the Germans’ impressive tournament, many considered there to be only one winner when the two sides lined up on the 4th July, 1954. The Hungarians had brutally taken teams apart for years, and got off to a flyer, finding themselves 2-0 up after just 8 minutes. But this wasn’t the same German team that had entered the tournament. This team had grown, matured and developed a sense of determination to do their country proud. Who knows what it was that caused the change?! Perhaps the “krise” that the country had been going through brought the players together. It was clear nevertheless, that the Germans wanted success, and within 10 minutes of going 2-0 down, they were right back in the game at 2-2. Finally, after 84 minutes, Helmut Rahn scored the goal that would have a massive impact on millions of Germans, bringing momentary joy to a nation anguished by their depressing situation. ‘Das Wunder von Bern’ became a reality. West Germany were world champions.
For me, as a mad football fanatic, it is stories such as ‘Das Wunder von Bern’ that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and re-kindle my love for the game. And thankfully, stories like that of the German team in 1954 are not isolated, as the recent success of the Iraqi national team shows.
It’s arguable that Iraq’s recent development and subsequent success at a footballing nation is even more impressive than that of the Germans in 1954. Sadly for the Arabic nation, multiple wars hindered the promising progress made by the country in the mid 1980s (Iran qualified for the 1986 World Cup and had enjoyed success in many inter-Asian tournaments). Under the depressing rule of Uday Hussein, brother of Saddam, results started to drop. Players were threatened with violence and prison if they made errors and in 1996 Iraqi football reached its lowest ebb, finding themselves ranked 139 in the world in the FIFA rankings, their lowest ever standing. Things finally started to pick up, and the clear improvement was shown on a global stage when Iraq qualified for the 2004 Olympics. It was here where Iraq really caught the eye, beating not only respected nations such as Australia and Costa Rica but also a Portugal team including world stars Cristiano Ronaldo, Jose Bosingwa and also Fernando Meira on their way to finishing 4th and just missing the bronze medal. Once again, a nation savaged by the evil vultures of war had something to smile about, bringing joy to those suffering back at home.
The thought of the joy brought to the average German (and in the modern era Iraqi) family, huddled around a radio when the referee blew his whistle for the very last time remind me, that despite the ever-growing greed within football, however much it hurts whenever your team give away a last minute goal, or the heart-break that relegation brings (and believe me, as a QPR fan I know all about that) ‘the beautiful game’ can still be as gorgeous as it ever was.
Welcome to my new blog
I hope to keep this updated with various articles. If you have any questions or want anythig published, feel free to e-mail me on nik.brumsack@googlemail.com
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