Germany: Part One

The weekend before last we sent KUMB's Gordon Thrower to Germany in order to cover the Schalke Cup, where West Ham faced the hosts and Malaga FC. Here's the first of two reports filed by our man on the spot...


Thursday 31 July

21.00 hrs
Swap messages with Charlotte – an “ex” with whom I am still on good terms with. Charlotte has sportingly agreed to pick me up at 5am the following morning. Except, for reasons far too dull to go into, I'm thinking about giving the trip a miss.

Charlotte is in agreement with the expert advice that the trip would “do me good” and is “just what I need” and in any case is damned if she's going to get up at stupid o'clock for nothing. I decide to go to the airport and sneak back by train if I still don't feel like it.


Friday 1 August

06:00 hrs
Arrive at Stansted. Thank Charlotte. Check in. Get to security. Baulk for a second but elect to go past the point of no return.

08:00 hrs
Our Germanwings flight takes off pretty much on time minus six Hammers who somehow manage to get off the transit train at the wrong stop despite there being only two to chose from - and the carriages being plastered with signs telling you to make sure you get off at the right stop. And all the announcements giving the same info. I never did find out if they made it onto a later flight.

10:00 hrs
Land at Cologne/Bonn airport. On time. Amazingly our bags are on the carousel waiting for us after a speedy passport check. Must be this German efficiency we hear so much about. On board the coach, Romford is responsible for the music. Rarely a good thing. I stick my headphones in.

On comes the “Life on Mars” soundtrack album at random. Sam Tyler's voice arrives “I want to go home”. If it's an omen it's a bit late. Enter Gene Hunt telling me not to be “such a Jessie” before all agree to go to the pub. Remove headphones. Romford's choice of music is Bud Flanagan's theme song to Dad's Army. With Gene Hunt and Hitler already on the playlist it's clear that political correctness is not high on the agenda for the weekend.

11.00 hrs
Check-in at the Marriott in Cologne. Speediest check-in ever. Must be this German efficiency we hear so much about.

12:00 hrs
We spend an hour or two in the Altmarkt where my time is taken up dealing with people who can't work their mobile phones. Its the “+44” thing and switching roaming on and off that seems to be causing problems for people. Having set up probably half a dozen phones in the afternoon I kick myself for not having set up some sort of fee tariff.

The work I've done on Romford's phones over the last ten years or so alone would have set me up for a comfortable retirement by now. Romford's phone now advises him that the minibuses picking those who flew in from Heathrow have failed to appear. More sorting out for the big fellah who has already put in one hell of a lot of hard work into the trip.

15:00 hrs
One plate of currywurst later I go back to the hotel to catch up on all of the sleep I haven't had for a few days now.

19:00 hrs
Meet up in hotel bar. It's clear that both Pedro and Jock, but mainly Pedro, have been on the beers all afternoon. So much so that they have elected to wear matching drinking outfits for the evening...


No I'm not going to stop for food...


End up getting cabs back to the Altmarkt part of town. Taff, who is flying in from up north contacts Romford to let him know that he's arrived in Cologne. As ever Romford's directions are the vaguest ever. Eventually Taff calls. Romford's spoken directions are even vaguer than the ones he issues by text. Sample conversation: “What do you mean you can't see the cathedral? I'm inside a pub and I can see the cathedral”

We finally meet up with Taff at a branch of All Bar One at which point I get a bit tired, my aching arthritic knees and general fatigue decide to rebel against the constant switching of bars. It looks like being a late one and I elect to dip out early and return to the Marriott by cab.

On arrival at the hotel I am greeted by a shout of “oi – it's you isn't it. My Gnome friend.” I am confused as the shout appears to be coming from someone I've never met before in my life. It transpires that the voice is coming from the woman stood behind the one I can see and belongs to Dawn, a woman I last met in the Barton Arms near Villa Park prior to the 2006 FA Cup Semi Final v Boro'.

I have a swift nightcap with the ladies where Dawn challenges me to find the photo I took of her and her friends that afternoon. I retire for the night finally getting some sleep as I locate the offending photo...


Some women in 2006.



Saturday 2 August

10:00am
Matchday. There are a few very hungover people on display making my decision to dip out early look to have been a wise one. Tales of trouble in Dusseldorf with Newcastle supporters in begin to emerge. The usual Chastours policy of never staying in the nearest city to where we are playing looks to have been an equally wise decision.

Although our kick-off is due to take place at 5:30 and Gelsenkirchen, (home to Schalke 04) is about 90 minutes away by coach we are due to leave at mid-day, apparently at the request of the police who are worried about coachloads of people in possession of offensive shirts wandering about Germany all afternoon. They may have a point...


"They wear what they want..."


13:30 hrs
Arrive at the Veltins Arena, home to Schalke. We have been given the home supporters' clubhouse, nicely located within the grounds of the massive sportspark. Earlier in the week I had chanced my arm and requested a press pass in order to do the usual press conference thing for KUMB.com. Having got a favourable response from the Schalke Press Manager, I decide to sort out the pass early in case there are any hitches it's just as well.

The West Ticket Office where my pass resides awaiting collection is, as you might think, on the West side of the arena. The Schalke Supporters Clubhouse is, yup, on the Eastern side of the arena. A long hot sticky walk around the outside ensues. It's humid and uncomfortable.

On arrival a chap with an official-looking pass informs me that that I need to go to the media centre inside the ground via gate 2. Which, of course, is halfway back to where I'd started from. Things start to get a bit silly when the security people at gate two send me back to gate 4, which is halfway back towards the West Ticket Office. If that's not silly enough the conversation with the security people at gate 4 takes on a whole new level of surrealism:

Me: "I have a press pass waiting for me in the media centre. Here is my email confirmation." Security: "I can't let you into the media centre without a press pass issued by Schalke." Me: "How can I show you my press pass if you won't let me inside to pick it up?" Security: "I can't let you into the media centre without a press pass issued by Schalke....(etc)"

Me: "Excuse me, is this a five minute argument or are we doing the full half hour..?"

I decide not to prolong the conversation any further and go back to the West Ticket Office. At the front of this office are a handful of UK press who have been going through the same process for the last tree hours (as opposed to the mere one that it's taken me to get thus far). Thankfully our saviour is on hand.

Step forward Stefanie, the author of my email. Stefanie is very apologetic, blaming the introduction of a new security system for the delays. Diplomatically I refrain from uttering a sentence containing the words “German efficiency” Within seconds I have a complete set of passes for both days which I take great pleasure in brandishing in a smug a manner as possible at gate 2.

The media centre is something else. Spacious and modern, it features free soft drinks and ice cold beers on tap, courtesy of the good people at Veltins, the brewery who have paid handsomely to have their name on the ground. In the heat and humidity are all most welcome but I stick to the ice cold diet coke.

The food, unlike every other meal I've had so far since arriving, contains not a hint of “wurst” as well. A familiar face in the form of West Ham's Head of Media Paul Stringer arrives. We marvel at the opulence of the surroundings though Paul is too diplomatic to join in with my thoughts on how messy things could get were the press room at the Boleyn to offer a load of British journos free beer.

I return to the supporters' clubhouse, the journey back being made infinitely quicker by the fact that I can cut though the stadium armed with my pass rather than have to wander all around the outside. The pass seems so powerful that it probably allows me to play for Schalke. On returning to the clubhouse it is clear that the events of the previous night have taken their toll on Pedro, who spends the whole afternoon asleep, presumably having dressed in his lurid pink shirt whilst unconscious...


Pedro “poses” for dozens of photos like this and if you know someone who was on the trip they'll almost certainly have a photo like this.


I pop back to the ground to catch the last bit of the Malaga v Newcastle match. Malaga seem more than happy to walk through the second half having raced into a 3-0 lead. Newcastle pull one back but Malaga seem to be playing well within themselves.

17:30 hrs
Its our turn next. Team sheets are procured giving us a starting line-up of Jaaskalainen, O'Brien, Potts, Collins Tomkins, Poyet, Fanimo, Kouyate, Downing, Nolan, Cole. The hosts leave out Dutch striker Klaas Jan Huntelaar and German World Cup pair Julian Draxler and Beenedikt Howes.

With the roof closed thanks to thunderstorms that are giving a much needed freshening up to the atmosphere, the recording of Bubbles thoughtfully provided by our hosts has a strange echoey quality. Having free rein to sit virtually anywhere I like I elect to sit along the side behind the dugouts. The bulk of the Hammers' travelling support is behind the goal defended by Schalke to my right:


...I think it's called a "ball"


The first half is a bit of a stalemate overall. An early Poyet effort takes a deflection but the 'keeper copes well. Whilst Schalke have a lot of possession there is a lot of hard work going on in keeping them closed down tight. On the few occasions that a killer ball looks on for the hosts Collins is on hand with a timely block. Downing gets forward well but his crosses are either poor and blocked or, when they do look dangerous, there aren't enough people in the box in the right places to capitalise.

We survive a scare when Schalke's Chouo-Mouting is let in by Collins who takes his eye off the ball as it squirts under his foot. The Cameroonian's shot at JJ's near post comes back off the base of the upright.

18:30 hrs
Half-time: Schalke 04 0-0 West Ham United

The ref adds zero minutes of stoppage and the teams troop off through the humidity. At the interval Reid replaces Tomkins as both managers resist the temptation to make wholesale changes. Despite the continued temptation of free samples of the sponsors' product in the press room I elect to stick to the soft drinks as I'm sort of working. Well that and the fact that in the humidity the diet coke is even colder than the beer. I just thought you ought to know some of the sacrifices that went into all this.

18:45 hrs
The second half gets under way and barely ten scrappy minutes have passed before we make two more changes Kouyate has looked useful and gets a rest to be replaced by Diame. Lletget replaces Fanimo. I've been joined by Romford, Taff, Deano and others along the side of the ground and spend the next half hour answering the question: Who's the no.9?


...he's ready to rumble


Poyet gives away a free-kick in dangerous position and the delivery causes chaos. Friedrich's effort comes back off the post. O'Brien's clearance does gain distance but only vertically as the Dad's Army theme (don't panic) makes a reappearance. Eventually Cole lumps it away to safety.

Cole then picks up a yellow card for an aerial challenge that sees Papadopolous counting the letters in his name. Vaz Te replaces Downing Cole comes ashore for Elliott Lee and Potts gets the second yellow of the match for a late one.

The 90 minutes are over and, as is often the way in these tournaments, a penalty shoot out is on the cards. We start and Nolan and Collins notch for us making it 2-2. Vaz Te then drags his kick wide. Advantage Deutschland who take a 3-2 lead. It's short-lived though. Lee scores then Santana makes a bit of an Abraxas of his effort which draws a save out of JJ.

As we move from standard to sudden death penalties Poyet, O'Brien, Potts and Lletget are all on target to put us 7-6 up. JJ saves Borgmann's effort and the stadium becomes the venue for that rarest of sights; a win on penalties by an English team over a German side. John Terry turns u outside the ground to get into the celebratory photos but doesn't make it past the security at gate no.4

Full Time: Schalke 04 0-0 West Ham United (United win 7-6 on penalties)

I repair to the press room where the reason for the extra-wide podium became apparent. The post-match press conference is a joint and simultaneous effort with the coaches of both teams sitting in at the same time. It's an interesting concept which could be quiet entertaining if introduced in the Premier League.

The idea of, for example, Alan Pardew being forced to share a podium with, say Arsene Wenger might be more entertaining than the match that preceded the conference. Especially if Veltins could be persuaded to supply a firkin or two of sponsored product.

Being a pre-season tournament, the conference is less eventful, if a bit lengthy. Both managers are wired up with headphones to enable the interpreter to supply simultaneous translations. The need to translate for the press as well doubles the length of proceedings. This is another innovation the Premier League could introduce – someone who can translate fluent twaddle into English when Harry Redknapp is in town would be useful.

The recording goes perfectly well thanks in no small way to the sound system and, with the miracles of technology, our Editor has the whole thing posted up 8:30 UK time.

21:00 hrs
Having stayed behind to hear from Sam just how miserable Andy Carroll is feeling at the moment, I have to make my own way back to Cologne. Another innovation common in Germany is the provision of free transport to and from the ground for ticket holders.

The area covered by the scheme is quite wide so that those who have travelled in from as far as Dusseldorf will have free transport on regional trains buses and trams. Right up to the end of the evening. Something to consider as the trip to the Boleyn on a replacement bus service makes a dent n your oyster card balance. As it happens Cologne is outside the scope of the scheme so I stump up a few Euros to get the rather plush Inter City Express back.

22:30 hrs
A quick shower later I try to find out where everyone has gone. I don't really feel like a late one but I'm a bit peckish and one cold beer wouldn't go amiss. Romford suggests I aim for a bar called Papa Joes. I hop into a cab which is my first mistake.

I do actually speak a bit of German and ask for a lift to the Altmarkt – a pretty well-known spot in Cologne. My cabbie informs me in broken English that he speaks no German but he appears to grasp the word Altmarkt, which in English translates as “Old Market”. Which is why I end up at Neumarkt (or Newmarket) eventually. Half right I suppose.

I elect to cut my losses and walk to the Altmarkt, which adds another 20 mins to the walking about. I arrive at Papa Joe's where Romford informs me there are a few of the gang waiting. There aren't. Romford himself is having a meal outdoors in a restaurant but useful information such as the name of the place seems to be a state secret. All his texts say is that it's 20 yards away from Papa Joe's. And it does steak. There must be a dozen restaurants in that area and he's sitting outside none of them.

Suffering a sense of humour failure I walk around and eventually duck down a side street whereupon I discover there is another Papa Joe's. Just as I go to search for this mythical restaurant the gang arrive around the corner.

I end up having just the one before electing to walk back to the hotel. Pedro has now recovered consciousness and is a bit peckish. We walk into a burger bar where he orders burgers, nuggets, chicken wings, fries and lord knows what else. I have the last burger left. Others elect to visit Pascha, which I am reliably informed is some sort of brothel. I elect to give this a miss as I don't like broth.

00:00hrs
Having walked over half of Cologne looking for food and drink and having had one drink and a burger for my efforts I decide that the night isn't going to improve any so I retire to the air-conditioned sanctuary of my room, stick on the music and read my book for a bit. Phew, rock n' roll.

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