I had a lot of time to look contemplate the tournament on the 15 hour round trip from Sunderland, and I was actually really enthusiastic about the games, not to mention the weekend I was about to embark upon.

The coach trip was tough but worth it, never a dull moment or one I missed due to sleep as there was a distinct lack of that. Sleeping on a jacket with all sorts of various crap in the pockets is no substitute for a pillow unfortunately. 6am on the ferry and we were already in the bar having our first tipple. It doesn’t seem to matter how early you start when you are in holiday mode, nothing makes you feel like an alcoholic. The time spent on the bus seemed to put us completely out of sync with the outside world as we thought we were driving through Holland until we got out at a small shop to be confronted with a huge map of Luxembourg.

Eventually we got to the hotel and a quick shower was in order followed by some more alcohol and some grub. We had a venture into the infamous red light district to kill some time, made worth it by the obviously stoned burger vender who was adamant that he would put “pussy in it” rather than tomato sauce. It would be ignorant we thought not to visit a coffee shop for a little relaxation, I’m sure you would concur, and after that we were back on the train to the hotel to catch the bus to the game.

The ground looked like some sort of UFO has just landed in the middle of Holland, an absolutely gargantuan one at that. The structure was as huge as it was impressive with the pitch itself around three stories above ground level due to a multi-story car within the catacombs of the stadium. There were about three bars surrounding the ground, so we had a few refreshments in each and then we began the search for our entrance.

After walking in circles for about 40 minutes we finally stumbled into the gate we were looking for and slipped in. I never thought that the climb at Sid James’ would be out-climbed but I stood corrected when I got to the top of those steps at the ground. Well I didn’t stand corrected, I was leaning on a wall holding my chest and panting corrected. There were hundreds of the bastards with little cusps on the edges, seemingly put there just to trip you up if you started lagging.

The seats were quite high, but the visibility was actually not bad at all. Seeing the lads training on the pitch made it really hit home how much I was missing football at the moment. The pint in my hand made the pain a little less acute. We lined up quite predictably really: Fulop between the sticks, Collins, Nosworthy, Ferdinand, Bardsley at the back, Malbranque, Richardson, Edwards Henderson and Leadbitter making up the midfield and Jones as a lone striker.

We initially started slowly, Fulop being brought into action early on, but we grew into the game. We were poor in front of goal, Jones missing the best chance to head us ahead when he put a free kick from Steed wide at the back post. That was our biggest threat of the half. Benfica played well at times, but were just as impotent in the penalty area and it looked like a 0 – 0. Edwards split his head open half an hour in, and Reidy came on in his place.

The deadlock was broken when Danny Collins made a clumsy tackle in the box and the ref pointed to the spot. Cardozo slotted the penalty home, and we seemed shaken after that as we nearly went 2 down a few moments later when dilly dallying on the ball caused issues. We came out fighting in the second half, but once the second went in that was pretty much it and the game petered out, with most of the fans, who were absolutely magnificent by the way, as always, more interested in the news that we had signed Lorek Cana. Nice to see another player join the crew, and there was a good feeling about the recent exit of Whitehead, cheers for the effort, but we need better. Anyhow, I digress. We didn’t stay for the second game as we had debating to do over a nice cold continental pint as well as find the train station…

Man of the Match: Malbranque. Moved the ball around neatly when he had it.

Final Score

Jonothan Scollen

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