retired_jenlivesay

Haha good luck! How did you manage to do this - all in the pre-season?

retired_sherri

v. KF Vlazrimi Kicevo

We took the field in front an official attendance of 88, though I had my suspicions that figure included a farmer and his herd of goats who had stopped to watch, much to the animated annoyance of the referee who had to chase a number of the goats off the pitch before he could start the match. Having been performing slightly better in the last couple of games we went at the game with renewed optimism, and it didn’t take us long to continue our scoring form. 4 minutes in a diagonal ball found Blinkhorn who slotted home past the stricken keeper. It wasn’t to last though as our defensive form also continued when an attempted clearance by Cunningham cannoned off Taylor and ended up in our own net. As seems the trend with Lancaster own goals always come in pairs and our hosts took the lead on 21 minutes when a quick free kick was played down the right and cut back from the by line, where Harban powered in, but his attempted clearance behind only found the back of our own net. 2-1 down and we had scored all the goals, it was not promising. Harbanthen compounded his, and the whole team’s misery, 5 minutes later when his flat-footedness saw the striker peel off him, but just as he was about strike Harban got a fist full of shirt and gave a sharp tug. Last man, red card, penalty, 3-1 down. I got this sinking feeling in my stomach it was going to be one of those days. Much to my delight, and total surprise, we limped to half time without any further damage.

I packed the midfield in the hope that a 3-4-2 would cut off the supply to their forwards and give us some counter attacking danger. The formation worked well for the best part of 5 minutes until Trajcev found a gap in the back 3 and sprinted through to make it 4 and definitely game over. Vlazrimi rightfully went onto dominate and constant pressure saw us defending on the goal line more than once. The floodgates opened though, Sekulovski turned home low cross, Hristovski chipped in having had acres of space in the box, Dimitrovski nicked the ball of Swan and waltzed around Cunningham before shooting low into the corner and Ljamcevski completed the rout when he took advantage of his pace to latch onto a long ball over the top and fire home. 8 goals showed we hadn’t come as far as I’d hoped since our 8-0 drubbing in Switzerland, but on the other hand, at least we scored this time.

KF Vlazrimi Kicevo (8) Lancaster City (1)

retired_sherri

Game 18 – Larissa, Greece

It seemed apt that as we wound through the Macedonian landscape that Dave should choose his favourite tape to play, “…And common sense is ringing out the bell…” The general mood was deflated and as I turned around to look back down the coach most were drifting in and out of sleep, “…This ain't no technological breakdown…” Dave was singing along, and never had a truer word came out of his mouth, “…Oh no, this is the road to Hell…”

We arrived at the border crossing in good time and by now I was well practiced in my speech about what we were doing and why. Luckily football is a language that seems to transcend every culture and after a quick passport check and a brief chat, in which I luckily managed to avoid the dreaded question of what the results were thus far, we were on our way. Our destination was to be a city half way to Athens called Larissa. Chris has once again been on the phones and had plotted us route right through Greece and out the other side with games in Larissa, Athens and finally Crete before heading onwards towards Egypt. The coach had become a fairly soulless place to be for the vast proportion of our days, you couldn’t get up and walk around, it was always the same old people, and it wasn’t exactly comfortable. As we rounded the spectacular sight of Mount Olympus I was looking forward to ditching this rusting hunk of junk for a different, more exciting, mode of transport. Not to say the coach hadn’t done a sterling job, but there is only so much you can take of the same surroundings, however delightful the views out beyond the grimy window panes.

Larissa is a small City by English standards, about 150,000 residents built up on what was obviously a predominantly agricultural community. The football team were big enough though. AE Larisa 1964 had qualified for the European Championship and their professional squad looked on paper a real mismatch for the squad Chris and I had cobbled together on a shoestring. After our recent games I only wanted to give a good account of ourselves, I could hardly expect a win, especially given the 7 hours we had spent cooped up in the coach prior to taking the field that evening.

retired_sherri

v. AE Larisa 1964

As you do after a humiliating defeat I kept exactly the same team. After all things couldn’t possibly get worse and I was hoping that consistent team selection would help create some understanding between the players, or at least a sense of collective responsibility for the poor performances. My management decisions were way off the mark as only 9 minutes into the match a corner was whipped in towards the penalty spot and the whole team stood and watched as Vallas headed home. The tone for the game was set shortly after as the central defence stood as still as the columns at the Parthenon as Gaitatzis ran clear through and sent Ashton diving the wrong way entirely. The shots started raining in on our goal and Larisa were camped in our half. Ashton made a few smart saves but it was inevitable that the third would be added and Papadopoulos obliged burying the ball into the corner from the edge of the area. Not content with one Papadopoulos added his second just minutes later when with his back to goal he swivelled and squirmed in a shot through Bayliss’ legs. With half time approaching the whole team switched off and as an attacking move broke down on the left, the counter attack by Larisa was met with only half hearted attempts at tackles and Zarkadas made his dazzling run and cheeky chipped finish look easy. Half time didn’t come a moment too soon, 5-0.

We hadn’t had a shot yet, and the usually reliable Blinkhorn had gone missing up front. I told the lads in no uncertain terms I expected better and that is what I got. Larisa came out to increase their tally but they came up against a much more focussed and organised defensive unit, and as the shots rained in Ashton seemed up to most of what was thrown at him. It took something special for Larisa to get their 6th as man of the match Papadopoulos rounded off his hattrick with a 30 yard curler that was hit with such precision and pace that it was impossible to stop. We held our own again, albeit camped in our own half, until the 81st minute when Ashton mis-kicked a back-pass and allowed Pantazis to side foot into an open net to finish off the comprehensive scoreline. There was no real redeeming feature to the game, we hadn’t managed a shot on target, we had conceded a hatful and had looked completely outclassed for the whole game. I could only take comfort in that this was an opponent who was a different quality entirely.

AE Larisa 1964 (7) Lancaster City (0)

retired_rupa

good read so far, looks very good

retired_rkp278

Great story.

Are you coming to Asia? That would really be around the world then!

retired_prakasharvind

great story, loving it!

retired_sherri

Thanks all :thup: I do hope to touch on all continents, so it really will be Around the World, though how much output this story will get I'm not sure, dissertation and lots of holidays to keep me occupied

Game 19 – Athens, Greece

We were just on the outskirts of Athens as the coach coughed and spluttered its way to a standstill and began to bellow smoke from the engine. All of a sudden there was a bang and a lick of flame flashed up. Dave let out a little yelp before screaming in a high pitched voice, “Fire, fire, everyone get off”, leaping from his driver’s seat as he did so. Everybody rushed for the two doors, all apart from Anton Lally who, in a bit of a panic, grabbed a hammer from Dave’s toolkit, which was stored at the back of the coach, and smashed a window, barely stopping to check it was safe to jump out as he launched himself through the hole he had just created. Instinctively we opened up the coach luggage compartments and began pulling bags to relative safety, we knew we couldn’t go on without our kit, although the lads seemed fairly relaxed about getting the tents out, perhaps in the vague hope that if they burned it would be luxury hotels from here on. Everyone was off the bus and all the gear was far enough from the coach not to be engulfed if the whole thing blew up. A small crowd gathered at a distance, some looking rather concerned, but others finding our antics of escape and clearing the coach obviously rather comedic. The sound of sirens grew louder as the smoke got worse. The coach was old and having been on the road for weeks non-stop it wasn’t surprising it had given up.

Once the fire brigade had doused the flames the extent of the damage was apparent, the coach was going to the great big motorway in the sky. With all the drama over we could see the funny side of it, though Dave looked as if he was about to cry. It was early afternoon and we didn’t want to hang around, so having got the okay from the emergency services we decided to say our farewells to Dave who was going stay and see if the coach was truly beyond all hope or if he could salvage something of it. Chris gave Dave the money for an airfare home, and as much as Dave was the butt of all jokes I felt genuine appreciation for his efforts in getting us this far, but without a coach and driver, it was now all up to us. I marched the squad down the road towards our next fixture turning back only to see Dave waving stood in front of the wreck of a coach.

The ground that Fostiras play at is in a south western suburb of Athens and as we sauntered down a narrow street running through a sort of industrial estate in search of our venue the claret and yellow seats of the Spyros Yalabidis Stadium came into view. The stadium is very open and the 4000 uncovered seats sat on relatively new, but wooden nonetheless, stands. The place had character and whilst the lads got ready in the changing room Chris and I wandered into the clubroom where a number of old men sat smoking and animatedly chatting with one another. A beer each after an eventful day was well earned, but the champagne would have to stay on ice until the win materialised, I just hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

retired_vickstan

did you actually play 80 friendlies in the first season or over a few seasons.

retired_acivin

Same question really! I am wondering as to how did you manage to fit in soo many matches?