Three priceless points

PTFC makes it two in a row against St. Johnstone

Who would have thought something as ordinary as football could matter? But I was very pleased indeed to read this morning that my team had won away from home in the Scottish Premier League. We rise to seventh place and despite the hard games ahead (against numbers one, two and three in the League - Celtic, Aberdeen and Hearts) our future in the top division looks secure for another year. Phew.

It seems one can take the boy away from the football but the game remains within the boy. The beautiful game indeed.

Doom ...

... and gloom. My team loses overnight. Our Mascot Kingsley is not happy.

Old habits die hard

Friday night  there, Saturday morning here and the day's first news: my football team back in Scotland progressed to the final 16 of the Scottish Football Cup.  Any ship in a storm Douglas.

Don't panic, don't panic ... ok - let's panic

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear ...

So Partick Thistle lost (again) this time away from home to the not so very mighty Ross County.  Even this early the writing is on the wall ... my Facebook wall as far as these words are concerned;

I can no longer hide the truth from the world.

With eight games played, no wins, only two goals scored and with an uncomfortable gap opening up between our bottom of the league position and EVERYONE ELSE IN THE LEAGUE my unofficial Partick Thistle existential threat warning has been raised from "bit of a worry" to "moderately anxious".

In The Guardian ... so it must be true

I submitted three of Spike's photos of our trips to games at the Asian Cup which were posted on the Guardian Witness web site here.  A journalist from The Guardian, Tom Stevens, wrote to me with questions about our experiences at the tournament.  I rushed off answers before jumping in the car last Friday to drive to Sydney for the Quarter Final and Semi Final games last weekend.  Never thought any more about it.

Iraq v Palestine, 21 January. Pic: Spike Deane

I received an e.mail from Tom earlier today with a link to his article in The Guardian today, here.  Spike's photos are republished and extracts from my answers to Tom's questions were turned into quotes for his article. 

Lifelong Guardian reader that I am, I couldn't be more chuffed to appear in its virtual pages.  And - ageing Leftie, as I am also - I'm very pleased that my references to the broadcasting deal struck by the Football Federation Australia were quoted ... almost as I wrote them.  Tom wrote,

"Another interesting point our readers have made hinges on the Australian TV coverage of the event, or lack of. Dougie suggests that Football Federation Australia sold its soul too cheaply by signing the rights to the group stages over to Foxtel. “FFA missed the opportunity to open the tournament up to casual viewers through free to air broadcasting. It might be a long time until Australia host a football tournament of similar stature, and rather than being ‘dazzled by cash’ FFA could have looked at this tournament as an opportunity of building a long term future for the game.”

Happy camper.  Off to the final tomorrow.

Another day, another game with the Iraq team

Iraq fans, Lidcombe station, 26 January pic: Matt Herd

It's the knock-out stages of the Asian Cup and this time we're in Sydney for the semi final between Korea and Iraq. Noisier and busier than Canberra from the getgo, as was clear from the queue at Lidcombe railway station.

Stadium Australia, 26 January. pic: Spike Deane

My nephew Matt joined Spike, her dad and I on a very wet Australia Day at Stadium Australia with 40,000 others. It was supposed to be Australia versus some other team on Australia Day in Stadium Australia with 85,000 happy Aussies but that's not how it worked out in the end because the Socceroos didn't come top of their group. Ho hum. There are bigger disappointments in life.

Rain did not stop play. Pic: Matt Herd

We had seen both teams in Canberra during the group stage so we knew we'd be in for an exciting game. Endless noise from beginning to end. Tea, chips, Krispy Kreme donuts and the best seats in the house ... almost the best. Spike's dad and I sat in the wheelchair area. The stewards moved Matt and Spike into the comfy, pay extra for the privilege seats behind us.

Roll on the final.

More football

Tonight saw the last of my five games at the Canberra Stadium.  Iraq versus Palestine.  Now there is a contest I would never have imagined previously I'd be watching.  But there we were, Spike and I plus somewhere in the region of 8,000 to 10,000 enthusiastic (not to say fanatical) supporters, mostly Iraqui nationals.  The man with the big drum was but one of many drummers who were unceasing in their desire to make themselves heard.  They succeeded.  

The game was enjoyable but the result was never in doubt.  How could it have been?  This is Palestine's first official tournament.  Five members of the squad were prevented from travelling because of visa restrictions.  The team gave their all but a victory was always going to be beyond their capabilities ... this time.  Their supporters didn't seem to mind too much.  They cheered on their team with the same passion as any bunch of avid fans but by half time it was pretty clear the night belonged to Iraq.  Unpeturbed, the Palestine supporters - some expatriots plus a bunch of Aussie supporters politically of the emergent nation settled for a flag-waving, drum-beating procession around the stadium.  Everyone in the ground seemed pleased they were there.  Sometimes that's enough; a victory in its own right.

The evening was marred a little by an argument I got into with an Iraqi supporter who refused to vacate the seat next to the wheelchair spot I was occupying.  He and his mates had been standing up, crowding the space as their team took the field, which is when Spike and I arrived.  Most of the guys moved so I could take the wheelchair spot.  One guy sat down next to me.  I asked him to move so Spike could join me.  He declined, telling me he was recovering from a broken ankle.  The ding dong commenced.  He refused my request to prove the seat was his by showing me his ticket.  He refused the same request from stewards and armed police officers.  Our ding dong continued.  In the end his mates persuaded him the fight was not worth the prize.  They moved away but not too far away.  They stood througout the match, jumping for joy when Iraq scored, as you would if you were an Iraqi.  Broken ankle entirely healed it would seem.

China versus North Korea

It was game five at the Canberra Stadium tonight (my fourth thanks to a puzzling attack last Tuesday of what doctors don't call 'the wobblies').  The traffic queued for a couple of kilometres ahead of the parking sites as we turned off the highway at Belconnen, confirming that tonight's game would be best attended of the group stage games in the nation's capital.  I reckon it's likely to be the best attended game of Canberra's contribution to the Asian Cup. As we made our way to the entrance, where many hopeful ticket buyers were arrayed in lines before the box office, a voice announced - a little forlornly - that only 30 tickets remained.  When, maybe a minute later, the same voice announced all tickets had been sold no one in the lines seemed inclined to believe her and move.  

Inside the ground, packed with thousands of the most polite football spectators I've ever encountered, the game was seven minutes old and China one goal ahead by the time we reached our spots.  We were surrounded by Chinese Australians most of whom were wearing what looked like the same one-size-fits-all red T-shirt bearing the legend - in English and hanji characters - GO CHINA.  Looking around the stadium it was clear someone was doing good business that night.  There were thousands of people wearing t-shirts.

The game ended in a victory for China, which pleased the vast majority of the 20,000 spectators.  North Korea gave the opposition a run for its money in the second half and only the woodwork denied the Koreans the draw they probably deserved.  I have one more game to go here in Canberra, which is Iraq v Palestine next Tuesday then it's up to Sydney on Friday for the first of the knock-out games that lead to the final.  

Go Socceroos, although after the loss to South Korea I hae ma doots ... as we say in the old country, where we know everything there is to know about snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

14 seconds is all it takes

I attended game 13 of the Asian Cup tonight accompanied by Colin Tulley, an associate of Spike's father and dedicated supporter of Glasgow Celtic FC.  When I first saw Colin approaching my car from the other side of the Glassworks car park in Canberra I knew it would be him.  Who else that evening would be wearing the green and white hoops of a Celtic strip?

Oddly enough, when we were seated in the Canberra Stadium waiting for the match between United Arab Emirates and Bahrain to kick off, Colin introduced me to a few of his football-loving friends who were also present.  I was suddenly surrouded by a sea of Glasgow accents, friendly men of my age and their adolescent or twentysomething children.  All diehard Celtic fans.  Any one of them could have been dressed like Colin.  Naturally, in the spirit of footbll bantering males, each was advised I am a supporter of Partick Thistle.  None laughed openly but there was an expression on their faces somewhere between jocular pity and sympathy for the terminal illness from which I was suffering.

There was no rain tonight.  It was a perfect evening for playing and watching football: blue sky, warm sunshine, decent crowd reported to us as 7,992 people.  

The UAE took all of 14 seconds to score the first of their 2 match winning goals.  Blink and you'd have missed it.  Lots of fun.  Looking forward to my next match.  China v North Korea.  Never done that pairing before.

A storm and a tea cup

I submitted one of Spike's photographs of our visit to the first game of the Asian Cup to the Guardian's "Witness" section of  'were you there?' photo albums.  My favourite newspaper added me to the (admittedly small) mix today.  Fame at last.  Or not, as the case may be.  But I like Spike's photo, I enjoyed the experience of being at the game and - as anyone who knows me would not be surprised to read - I'm very pleased with the smart arse caption / title I gave to the photo (repeated as the title of this post).  The Guardian asked for a description which I've added below.  I've corrected my original typing mistakes ... vanity, vanity - thy name is Douglas.

"Huge thunderstorm hit Canberra just before Asian Cup game between South Korea and Oman. No shelter for most of the 12,552 spectators. Emergency panchos, umbrellas and for this Scottish resident of Australia's capital a Panama hat bought in Curitiba, Brazil during last year's FIFA World Cup. South Korea deserved winners of good game. Dougie Herd drinking tea. Photo by Spike Deane. Stylish pink poncho NOT by Armani."

More fitba'

Refugee from The Beverly Hill-Billies

Asian Cup 2015.  Game 2 of my 9, United Arab Emirates versus Qatar.  Smaller crowd than yesterday but at just over 5,500 more than I expected after yesterday's rain.  There was no need for the emergency poncho today but looking at the photo of me here maybe it would have been an idea to cover up my complete lack of fashion sense or style.

The game was lively, there were five goals and the UAE ran out deserving winners by 4 goals to 1.  I'll be seeing them again on Thursday, playing against Bahrain.  Enjoying my Asian Cup so far.  And hugely indebted to Spike for keeping me company and taking on role of 'official match photographer'.

Drenched

So, it's the first of my nine games at the Asian Cup 2015.  South Korea versus Oman at the Canberra Stadium.

Another football selfie for Spike to treasure

As we drove towards north Canberra from Gilmore the sky darkened and grew more angry looking in that bruised manner which only an immanent thunderstorm can create.  As we arrived in the "VIP / Accessible Parking" area (full marks to someone for the choice of 'accessible' rather than the more usual 'disabled') the sky above opened to drop a month's worth of rain on everyone.  We were dry at that stage (not yet parked, still in the car) but the volunteers helping to direct us to the parking bay closest to the entrance were soaked to the skin.  It didn't take long for us to match them.  But we all seemed happy enough; to be there part of Australia's biggest football party ever. 

The game was good, enjoyable if you really like football and aren't too fussed that goals can be a rarity.  South Korea were in charge off the game pretty much throughout and deserved their win but Oman gave them a game of it and produced a few scares for the wacky, marvellous Korean fans who made up a very substantial part of the 12,552 members of the crowd.  We all went home wet but happy.

Heid the ba'

Kuwait v Australia 2011

My tragic footall fan is coming out to play again.  The Asian Cup kicks off (pun intended) tonight in Melbourne with Australia playing Kuwait in the competition opening match.  My first match is tomorrow.

Sports blogger Kate Cohen has an article in the Guardian today.  The article is headed "Asian Cup final four the minimum expectation for Socceroos".  I beg to deffer and wrote the thoughts below in the article's comments section.  (Not just a football tragic but a Guardian Comments tragic too.) 

FIFA Rankings are about as reliable as the bidding process to host the World Cup. Australia ranked 100 tells us nothing.

I think football is an infuriatingly, beautifully simple game. Score more goals than the other guys and you win. Forget that and you're toast.

I have my tickets for the 6 group games in Canberra (I shall cheer loudest for the team from Palestine but I don't really mind who wins here). And I have my tickets for the quarters, semi and final. They are a different kettle of fish.

When I went to Brazil last June I did not expect to see Australia at the Rio final (although there were a few minutes against Holland when getting out of the toughest group in the Cup did not seem impossible).

But please guys. This is home turf. We all expect to see you in Sydney. In the final. Winning.

Go Socceroos!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Football daft

The Asian Cup starts here on Friday.  I've bought tickets for six group games in the nation's capital then three others in Sydney.  Football daft it would seem.

Naff video but the competition should be fun.

I’m going to the first of my 6 games being played in Canberra on Saturday – South Korea v Oman, which is not quite Argentina v Brazil but it’s still international football.  I’ve got tickets for the Quarters, Semi and Final as well but they’re up in Sydney at the end of the month.   

My highlight is looking forward to the Palestinian team play Iraq in two weeks’ time. Five of the Palestine team were not allowed to travel.  Maybe some ‘war on terror’ dickhead thought they’d suicide bomb the goalie.  I saw players interviewed by Guardian Online (here) at the Palestinian Social Club in Sydney.  It’s the first official tournament a Palestinian team has played in and the players are saying, ‘yes we’re here for our country and the people and we are proud.  But we also just want to play football.’  The world over.  A bunch of lads just want to kick a football around a pitch.

The illusion of happiness is a waterlogged pitch

Partick Thistle Football Club

It was with some trepidation I logged on to the BBC Sport web site to check out the football scores back in the 'old country'.  In the traditional New Year's Day round of matches the Jags had the never less than daunting task of hosting Celtic at Firhill.  The 'tic had not won their previous two matches - even worse they'd been sufficiently careless as to lose their last encounter - and a lifetime's experience (by which I mean approximately 47 years) tells me it is never, I mean 100% never a good idea to meet the Champions a week after they've had a bad day at the office.  They feel some overwhelming 'We Are The Champions' need to give their next opponents a monumentally painful going over.  

So it was with great relief, bordering on ecstatic joy, I read that the game had been postponed because the pitch of Maryhill's finest had become waterlogged, despite the best efforts of the home team's staff.  (References to ecstatic joy in the previous sentence may border on ironic overstatement ... but only just.)

Relatively speaking, therefore, New Year's Day turned out, as it happened - or more accurately as it didn't happen - a good day for the Harry Wraggs.  We didn't lose three points while the teams below us in the league were all soundly beaten, putting more distance between us and them than had been there on Friday - at least that's my not very sound theory.   

It will not last, of course.  A day of recokoning must come.  But for now, as the saying goes, I'll take any port in a storm.

Goal of the year

FIFA (boo, hiss ... love the game - scrap FIFA) has created a short list of three strikes to contend for their goal of 2014.  The award is known as the FIFA Puskas Award and the three nominated finalists can be seen here.  Like most folk, I imagine, I'd vote for James Rodriguez

Among the goals that made the long list is one by Tim Cahill against The Netherlands in the World Cup match at Porto Alegre on the 18th June.  Spike and I were in the crowd.  There was a moment, not so very long after this goal was scored, that Australia could have gone two up.  Had they done so me, Spike, Joe and Steph would have been required to alter our travel and accommodation plans (and bookings!!) for the four weeks that followed.  Sadly it was not meant to be.

Here's the best goal I saw in person in 2014.  Tim Cahill.