Wales 2 New Zealand 2
Friendly (Played at the Racecourse)
When this match was first announced the juices didn't exactly begin to flow. "My God, we're playing New Zealand at football!! We'd better get there quick or all the tickets will have been snapped up." As the game approached my anticipation grew however; at least we'd be seeing another match in North Wales. Baring in mind the opposition a win was probable and that is certainly something you don't take for granted with Wales.
Three of us waited for a lift outside Llandudno Station; Joel, Gaz and yours truly. Gaz B was giving us a lift. He is a reporter for the Daily Post and he had to work. Consequently he was more smartly turned out than the rest of us. As he was working Gaz could park in the club car park and drop us off outside the ground. The Turf was our port of call.
The Turf is a historic pub; Wales and Wrexham have changed there, generations of fans have drunk their pre-match refreshments there, fans even used to watch matches from the balcony at the back. It is the ideal place for a pre-match pint. Unfortunately the owners, a despicable brewery, want to close the venue and replace it with something souless.
As I was about to enter I noticed a group holding petitions so I signed one of them. As I was chatting to the petition holder a bloke butted in. He didn't recognise any of the people protesting, they weren't in everyday. The local seemed to take offence at their gall for even attempting something like this. He had failed to realise that they might be doing something in his interest. Why should he bother to do anything like that, eh? He obviously "didn't do politics". Maybe he'd be happy with a shiny new pub, as long he could still go everyday. Yopu hear all of cries about global warming but some people aren't even worried about their local area. I left 'em to it and went inside
Friendly (Played at the Racecourse)
When this match was first announced the juices didn't exactly begin to flow. "My God, we're playing New Zealand at football!! We'd better get there quick or all the tickets will have been snapped up." As the game approached my anticipation grew however; at least we'd be seeing another match in North Wales. Baring in mind the opposition a win was probable and that is certainly something you don't take for granted with Wales.
Three of us waited for a lift outside Llandudno Station; Joel, Gaz and yours truly. Gaz B was giving us a lift. He is a reporter for the Daily Post and he had to work. Consequently he was more smartly turned out than the rest of us. As he was working Gaz could park in the club car park and drop us off outside the ground. The Turf was our port of call.
The Turf is a historic pub; Wales and Wrexham have changed there, generations of fans have drunk their pre-match refreshments there, fans even used to watch matches from the balcony at the back. It is the ideal place for a pre-match pint. Unfortunately the owners, a despicable brewery, want to close the venue and replace it with something souless.
As I was about to enter I noticed a group holding petitions so I signed one of them. As I was chatting to the petition holder a bloke butted in. He didn't recognise any of the people protesting, they weren't in everyday. The local seemed to take offence at their gall for even attempting something like this. He had failed to realise that they might be doing something in his interest. Why should he bother to do anything like that, eh? He obviously "didn't do politics". Maybe he'd be happy with a shiny new pub, as long he could still go everyday. Yopu hear all of cries about global warming but some people aren't even worried about their local area. I left 'em to it and went inside
As we were convivially imbibing our drinks a few New Zealanders entered the premises. I had a chat with one of them. He was ever so well informed about football. This was a little unforeseen; preconceptions meant that we thought if any NZ fans actually did turn up they would just be rugby fans coming up here to support some "boys" from back home, as is an ex-pats' want. Our views were reinforced at first; none of them were wearing football shirts, preferring beige cricket shirts or the usual black rugby shirts. My conversational partner said that we'd have a good chance of victory today as they were missing 7 or 8 players. I casually predicted at least a 6-0 victory.
The weather had become distinctly less summery since we'd been in the Turf, as the rain-flecked shirts of recently arrived drinkers testified to. Figuring that it wouldn't get any worse we decided to brave the weather. The conditions were a bit of a downer given my attire; shorts and rain don't tend to mix. My choice of outfit was influenced by this morning's very pleasant weather in Llandudno, what a variety of weather we have in North Wales!
As we were queuing to get in I noticed Karl and Dilwyn on the other side of the Kop's gate. The rain meant that we'd try to get under cover. We spotted a nice piece of dry land by Karl. I tried to reassure Joel that it was sometimes sunny at the Racecourse, I'd actually seen a game in sun three weeks before. Rhys came into view and we had a bit of chat before the players came out for the anthems.
There were a few New Zealanders present and they became very vocal after about 2 minutes; the "All Whites" scored. The nickname was wrong this time as the "All Whites" were wearing all-blue. Not for the first time a Welsh team had managed to make my prediction seem totally wrong. Wales were losing against part-timers, part-timers that didn't even have their first choice team available. Surely this wouldn't last!
Luckily it didn't; Bellamy scored. Unfortunaely the match lurched back into unpredictability as New Zealand scored again. I'm sure it wasn't just me that made this realisation; our defence looked very porous. Was the returning Gabbidon a tad rusty? Bellamy equalised again and we were poised for a New Zealand thrashing. Unfortunately the players didn't seem to share this view because no more goals were forthcoming.
As most of us already had tickets the half-time talk turned to next week. The contemplation of various negative outcomes, with wide margins of defeat, was not a pleasant few minutes. I don't know whether the pessimism was widespread though, the teams left the pitch to claps and not boos. Maybe this says something about the current plight of Welsh football. I'd say that it reflects the stoical nature of the Welsh fan. They are not given to irrational outbursts. They use reason to decide that the players needed encouragement, not criticsm. We are not England fans after all, with their over-inflated expectations and all that.
The second half passed in a slow moving blur, the temperature was making me wish for the end. From the few details that I can remember the main talking point on the pitch was the occasion of New Zealand hitting the post, their striker was denied a hatrick. I contended myself with trying to keep warm. I saw Gary from Rhosneigr so we had a chat about his trip to Antarctica. As I floated off to the other side of the earth the match continued unabated. It was blessed relief when then full time whistle was blown. We could get into the warmth and conduct our diagnosis about the game in drier conditions. I made my farewells to Rhys and Karl, I'd probably see Karl later on tonight, at the Manics' gig in Llandudno. Again there was little booing, everyone seemed resigned.
None of us could work out quite how Wales contrived to draw the game today. It should have been easy but it wasn't, have we gone back to the bad old days of Gould? On the other hand there is the well-worn lament of the nearly emabrrassed coach to fall back on; "There are no easy games in international footabll" and that, my friends, is the straw that I'm clutching to.
Incidentally I had some proof today that footballers aren't quite the amoral, decadent yobs that the media tries to paint them as. As we were returning to the Racecouse car for our lift a car stopped for us, as we were crossing the road behind the Kop. The driver gestured that he'd wait for us to cross. I looked at the car again after offering my thanks with a wave and I noticed that it was rather expensive. I looked at the driver, it was Craig Bellamy! The driver with the impeccable manners has been one of the most vilified players of recent months. The cliche is true; you should never judge a book by its cover, or a footballer by their tabloid coverage it seems. Thank you Craig, you're a gentleman!
