Wales Special
Lots of things to discuss
THE BOSS
The Gould era: R.I.P.
By Peter Davies
Bobby Gould has resigned. There are street parties up and down the country.
Like most fans I'm pleased that he's gone. It's time for a new man with some new ideas.
Definitely. That said though, I feel that Gould and his reign as Wales boss have to be
appraised with much more balance and fairness than they have been up so far.
It's very easy to knock Gould, to make the anti-Gould case. His results - bar one or two -
have been poor; he's fallen out with a number of key people (Rush, Horne, Savage to name
but three) and he's always appeared, and acted, as a rather strange, nutty and eccentric
character slightly out of tune with modern-day life (and with footballers and Welsh
footballers in particular). He's also been accused of gross tactical naïvety. And he's
English - which didn't help.
It's very easy to criticise, very easy to demolish and ridicule the Gould era. Not so easy
or fashionable though to appreciate the problems he faced, to understand what he was
trying to do, and to put the whole issue in perspective.
For a start, I believe that Wales fans - like Wrexham fans in fact - have outrageously
high expectations. Wales is a small country, with three-and-a-bit professional football
clubs and an embryonic national league. Wrexham - the premier club in the Principality -
regularly get crowds of under 3,000; the new national cup competition meantime barely
attracts any 1,000+ gates; only a very tiny percentage of Premiership footballers are
qualified to play for Wales; players like Jeff Whitley are now opting to play for Northern
Ireland than Wales; and our best player has never ever made himself available for a
friendly international game. This is not a football nation. Rugby is the national game.
People cringe and cry when the world soccer rankings came out: Wales in 4,563rd place,
below the likes of Uganda, Zanzibar and Mali. Why are we so surprised? Wales is an
incredibly small country with a small population and most kids prefer the oval ball to the
round one. Can we really expect to be turning over Italy away from home? (No) Should we
really have been surprised when Wales lost heavily in Moldova several years ago? (No) As
the cliché goes, there are no easy games in international football anymore - particularly
when you're a small nation and football, most certainly, is not your national sport (Faroe
Islands 1 Scotland 1. Discuss). The expectations are just ridiculous and show a total lack
of realism. We can hope but we can't expect.
So, Gould suffered badly from hyper-inflated expectations. He also found himself as Wales
boss at a time when the footballing stock is not good. Page, Jenkins, Robinson. This is
not a vintage time for quality and pedigree - particularly in terms of defenders. In the
late-'80s and early-'90s, with Southall, Ratcliffe, Rush, Hughes (at his peak) and
Saunders (at his peak), we were spoilt; and remember Wales still didn't qualify for
anything. It's not very trendy or fashionable to be realistic, but we've got to
acknowledge the fact that Wales is a small nation with a modest footballing stock. Gould
should not take the blame for this.
Gould also did some good good things - a fact that should not be forgotten. He took a
serious interest in the lower echelons of Welsh football and he acknowledged talent in the
League of Wales when he could have gained far more popularity by ridiculing the League of
Wales (another easy and very fashionable thing to do). He also worked hard. He was always
on the road - whether scouting in Europe or talent-spotting in Wales (at the end of last
season he was checking on Gareth Owen against Cardiff in his 'anchor' role). He got no
brownie points for all this work - nobody seemed to notice or give him any credit for
this. Oh, and he enrolled for Welsh lessons: a gesture perhaps, but creditworthy
nonetheless.
He also got pilloried for 'falling out with players'. Fair enough, but Gould was in a
no-win situation. Most people hated him and he was blamed, very personally, for
everything. Funny how all Wrexham fans hate Robbie Savage and yet, suddenly, when he gets
involved in that 'Maldini shirt' saga, everyone suddenly loves and sympathises with
him…
The Rush situation is exactly the same. It seems that Rush fell out with Gould because he,
Rush, could not face sitting on the bench in international games. If this is true, how can
anyone sympathise with Rush and castigate Gould? Is any one man bigger than the national
team? Can a 'goalscoring legend' dictate terms to an international manager? And, anyway,
doesn't the evidence of the season just gone - and that we've all witnessed first hand -
prove that Gould was totally correct to dispense with Rush as a regular first-team player?
But it was Rush v Gould and everyone - yes, everyone - was going to sympathise with the
Welsh icon against the English 'import'. There is a real injustice here.
Gould also had his run-ins with the press, but again his reputation has been blackened
unfairly. He has every right to refuse to do interviews with newspapers like Wales on
Sunday that, in cowardly fashion, have taken pleasure in every misfortune suffered by
Gould. It's just too easy to knock and criticise; far too easy.
At other times I have really admired Gould's attitude to the press. One story goes that he
tuned into Teletext after a particularly bad Wales defeat. The performance of his side was
described as 'lacklustre' - so he got on the phone and complained to the duty editor. He
said that his players had been trying their guts out for their country. The Teletext
editor changed the word immediately. Good on Gould! Many press people sit and pass
judgement on players and managers with very little real knowledge and insight - and can
get away with saying virtually anything. They have to be more accountable, and I'm glad
Gould tried to fight back.
As I said, I think it's time that Gould made way for someone else. But I ask you this. If
Flynn or Mark Hughes or Neville Southall take over and suffer a run of bad results, will
the press and the fans be as vociferous in their condemnation of the manager? I doubt it
very much. That's not fair.
I'm glad Gould's gone, but we should not be blind to his attributes and his achievements.
He resigned with dignity and with good grace - not an easy thing to do after suffering
four years of consistent character assassination. I personally hope he does a Graham
Taylor, leads a side into the Premiership, and has the last laugh.
Any views about Gould, the Gould era or his
replacement? Please write to Red Passion.
WALES V DENMARK UNDER-21
INTERNATIONAL AT THE RACECOURSE
Posh Fry and a very pricey pasty
By Paul Lindsay
Walking up Regent Street towards the Racecourse at 6.50pm, one could have been forgiven
for thinking that there was no match on that evening, such was the lack of people or any
football related activity going on. At Crispin Lane however the first of three over
optimistic, I thought, souvenir hawkers had set up camp and appeared to be doing
absolutely no trade whatsoever.
Entering the car park, I had to do a double-take as I noticed a large
Mercedes with the number plate POSH. Bloody hell! I thought my second favourite Spice Girl
is here scouting for United with her fiancé! My hopes rapidly evaporated, however as I
noticed Peterborough United's Barry Fry entering the ground ahead of me.
Just before 7pm a casual-looking, non-burger eating, Neil Roberts
turned up to support his colleagues and entered the ground. I then met fellow RP
contributor Rod Jones and paid a bargain £3.00 to access the Yale Stand and was further
impressed to see the progress being made on the new Pryce Griffiths stand - now with
wings!
Not having eaten, Rod then phoned his bank manager and arranged a
second mortgage before purchasing a pastie and coffee and taking our places in the stand,
choosing a vantage point to the rear of the Directors Box to see who had shown up. Shortly
before kick off, those coffin dodgers that are the Welsh F.A. were wheeled out and the
tannoy crackled into life to play the anthems.
The game kicked off and Wales got off to the worst possible start by
conceding a goal to a thirty yard shot after only a couple of minutes which beat
Blackburn's fourth choice keeper Anthony Williams whose first touch, practically, was to
pick the ball out of his own net. Wales then settled into a rhythm and clearly wanting to
avoid another calamitous defeat after their 6-2 drubbing in Italy, began to trouble their
Danish counterpart, in particular giving the Danes' keeper who resembled Peter Schmeichel
in looks alone, more than a few heart stopping moments. When Wales scored an equaliser
from the edge of the box beating the keeper at his far post it was no more than they
deserved.
As the bigwigs departed for their half time hospitality, I noticed the
Fedora-less Malcolm Allison among their number, no longer looking the famous international
playboy that he allegedly once was. Also present were the Swansea duo of Hollins and
Curtis, and Crewe's Dario Gradi, no doubt looking for fresh young talent.
Into the second half and Wales continued to make a game of it. About
halfway through, Big Mal decided he'd had enough and left the Directors Box, missing what
turned out to be the Danish winner, around fifteen minutes from the end, a somewhat cruel
finish to what was essentially a brave display from a side that were quite frankly
hammered only a few days previously.
A dodgy tannoy and a brown tweed jacket
By James Morris
I have to say that when the editor of this esteemed publication dispatched me to report on the Wales vs. Denmark Under-21 international, I feared a depressing night was in prospect. You see, I myself am 21 and the thought of seeing younger, far more skilful players than I could have ever dreamed of being, playing at such a high level made me feel slightly depressed.
Still, all the same, I trooped off to the Racecourse on a gloriously
sunny evening to watch the game and, on the advice of my dad, keep an equally beady eye
out for any members of the full team playing the next night who may have been in
attendance. Indeed, as I took my seat in the Yale Stand, this seemed to be the main
attraction for many of those around me: eyes firmly fixed on the directors box, hoping to
catch a glimpse of Giggs and Co. As it happened, however, I did spot absolute footballing
legends: Jan Molby (looking a wee bit tubby!) acting as the Danish trainer, and one half
of Wales' high-flying double-act himself - Neville Southall (who, I must say, was looking
a bit shabby in a brown tweed jacket; I'll forgive him though - the wages can't be too
great at Torquay!).
But more of a fantastic sight than this was that of the imposing,
majestic figure of the new stand, glistening in the bright sunlight. WOW!!! Just looking
at it whilst the anthems were being sung makes you think how impressive the Racecourse
will look and sound when (if ever!) full international football makes its overdue return
to North Wales. Just looking at the Mold Road side made me feel very proud to see this
structure finally appear.
Anyway: confession time. I didn't actually catch the team line-ups due
to an age-old Racecourse problem - too far away from the tannoy to actually hear anything
(as opposed to having your ears blasted off the side of your head!) and my view of the
scoreboard was nicely obscured by a metal post. Brilliant! I bet Motty never has this
trouble!
The match itself was something of a mixed bag. The first half started
with an absolute bang, with Denmark's Martin Smith (thank you, Mr Lovett!) scoring an
amazing 30-yard belter that left Anthony Williams for dead: one of the best goals seen at
the Racecourse this season? Wales' effort was almost as spectacular. Kevin Evans (I
think!) skipping neatly through some admittedly half-hearted tackles before smashing the
ball past the Danish keeper who looked like some bizarre hybrid of Peter Schmeichel and
Billy Idol. Exciting stuff, all told.
Unfortunately, the second half was a bit of a damp squib, rarely living
up to the high standards of the first and, at times, slowing to a crawl. Sadly though, the
line-ups were not the only part of the game I managed to totally miss; whilst taking a few
notes, I heard the crowd groan and, looking up, saw the ball in the Wales' net. I think
it's fair to say that, with reporting skills like this on show, North Wales Newspapers
won't be on the phone just yet!
So then, all in all, a very worthwhile night out, especially for a £3
entry fee. Not quite the crowd there could have been; no official figure was given, but
the Leader said it was 881, which I suppose was about fair. Worth a mention was our recent
signing, Danny Williams who, as those who watch the Reserves will know, is an absolute
giant, winning everything in the air all night. He got in some crunching tackles and,
although some of his long-range passing was a bit too ambitious, he looks a safe bet to
appear at some stage next season. And, despite my initial worries, I left the Racecourse
full of admiration for the lads giving their all for their country. My only reservation:
it could have been me!
Wales U21 1 Denmark U21 1
by Paul Lindsay
Pre-match background: Wales went into
this game suffering from the loss of several key players and still reeling from a
hammering in Italy four days previously.
Conditions: Warm, dry, sunny evening.
Selection: The main interest from Wrexham's point of view was the
inclusion of new signing from Liverpool, centre-half Danny Williams. For the record the
team was A.Williams, Gabbidon, G.Roberts, Holloway, D.Williams, Evans, S.Roberts
(C.Roberts 20) S.Davies, Martin, (D.Davies 62) Green, Earnshaw (Jellyman 82)
Ebb & flow: Wales got off to the worst possible start, conceding an
early goal but then put in a spirited performance and were a match for the Danes for most
of the game.
Atmospherics: Somewhat limited in a
crowd of 881 but the relatively large number of youngsters did their best to make some
noise aided by a particularly irritating fog horn.
Goals: Martin Smith for Denmark with a
powerful 30-yarder after 3 minutes in front of the empty Kop. Wales' equaliser from Kevin
Evans before half time, a hard shot from the right of the penalty box that beat the keeper
at the far post. Denmark's winner was scored by substitute Alkhag seventeen minutes from
the end.
Incident: The goals.
Post-match verdict: Wales were
somewhat unlucky not to have come away from the game with a share of the spoils.
Man of the match: Leeds' Kevin Evans,
worked hard and took his goal well
WALES v DENMARK AT ANFIELD
Blivkonstabel and a not-very-sparky Sparky
By Peter Davies
I had a bad feeling about the Wales-Denmark game the moment I walked into a small but busy café on the Walton Breck Road - just behind the Kop. I ordered a baked potato and it was horrible - yes, that's HORRIBLE. It wasn't just cold, but also unpleasantly wet and moist - like no baked potato I'd ever come across in my life before. I couldn't stand it. I felt sick. I thought I better cut my losses. I got up and left - my awfully wet, moist and cold baked potato left on the table for the whole world to see. I scarpered down the road, grabbed a pie and chips from the Chinese opposite the Anfield gates and tried to erase the traumatic baked potato experience from my memory.
Anfield's immediate surrounds are amazing. Imagine 250 Coronation Streets criss-crossing
each with a luxurious palace situated right in the middle. That's Anfield the area. There
is a real old fashioned, inner-city feel to the place: millions and millions of terrace
houses, thousands of chippies, hundreds of corner shops and dozens of catholic churches.
And then, in the middle of everything, there's this huge, spectacular ampitheatre. The
contrast is amazing: terrible poverty and fantastic wealth living side by side.
The stadium seemed pretty busy. Not 'Liverpool at home on a Saturday afternoon' busy -
rather 'Wales at home on a Wednesday evening' busy, if you know what I mean. WALES/CYMRU
flags were going well at £3 or £5 a throw (or was that £5 or £10?) and there were lots
of hard-looking South Walians loitering around. One was wearing a red Cardiff City away
kit which I thought was pretty crafty. It was also possible to spot the odd Wrexham kit
and the odd familiar face.
Sensationally too, Plaid Cymru were seriously in evidence. The first
time ever they'd been seen campaigning outside Wales? It was, of course, the night before
European Election day. One guy had a loud-haler; another was dispensing leaflets.
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Click on the leaflets for larger versions.
Who says sport and politics don't mix?
There were other fascinating pre-match sights: a special
Carlsberg-sponsored Bill Shankly statue; a new McDonalds restaurant within the ground, a
pair of club shops that together were about 100 times bigger than the Racecourse shop; and
a ticket office that, to be honest, wasn't doing tremendous business. Just another Wales
international at Anfield…
Rather inconveniently I needed to make a pre-match phone call (I had
forgot the time of my last train home). And also, rather inconveniently, I had no change
for the call box. So I visited at least 26 Anfield Road shops in the hope that I could buy
some extra food or drink - and get some change for the phone at the same time. I couldn't
believe it. The establishments I visited - general stores, newsagents, corner shops - were
all so busy that I just gave up. None of them stocked strawberry milk either - my staple
diet. In the end I popped into one of the LFC club shops and swapped two five-pence pieces
for a 10p piece. The girl who was serving didn't seem to want to help me - but her shop
wasn't very busy (surprise, surprise) so she had no real excuse.
I made my phone call and headed towards the £20 seats. On the Monday
and Tuesday before the game I had wondered whether you could pay on the night. Little did
I realise that up till three days before the game, the FAW and Liverpool FC - together -
had sold only 7,000 tickets. Of course you could pay on the door…
The stadium was spectacular; the game was unspectacular. Somehow - I really don't understand how or why - I'd gone in the £20 turnstiles and ended up in the £25 seats. This didn't bother me unduly, but I was curious as to how this had happened. I wasn't complaining: the top tier of the Centenary Stand was a magnificent location from which to view an international occasion. And there was plenty of space. You could really spread out: you could have about 89 seats to yourself if you wanted. It wasn't, as they say, a full house.
As the teams strode out onto the pitch I thought about all my amazingly
obscure and pathetic claims to fame: I once sat on the table next to Steve Jenkins in a
posh Huddersfield hotel soon after he had moved to Town; I worked as a turnstile operator
at Swinton RLFC in the era when Ryan Giggs' dad was making his name at the club; and Mark
Hughes' mum once did my aunty's hair. Brilliantly sad.
On reflection, there was in fact something very predictable about the
whole match: Giggs looked the only Wales player with any real class; Saunders (who seems
to be trading solely on his Benfica name tag) missed several decent chances; and, after a
valiant struggle, Wales eventually lost.
I was also struck by Hartson's general awkwardness, clumsiness and
dirtiness. In this game he came across as the most one-dimensional of players - no
subtlety, no sophistication and in the end, no goals. He's an enormous bloke but he rarely
seemed to use his strength to good effect. He never managed to get the other side of the
defender marking him and the strategy of knocking high balls up to him became extremely
tiresome. He also got booked - long after he should have, actually. As the bloke next to
me yelled: 'Come on you fat b------!' Hartson was just very disappointing. The
Saunders-Hartson pairing just looked a bit dated. Sparky too wasn't looking very sparky.
On the other hand though, I never cease to be impressed by Paul Jones.
OK, he was perhaps at fault for Denmark's first goal, but - as against Italy in Bologna -
he was outrageously good. As a shot-stopper he seems to have very few peers and he also
managed to block and deflect his fair share of one-on-ones. He really is an excellent
keeper at the moment - approaching true international class?
I also thought that, for once, Wales' defence had a solid game. The
Melville-Coleman combination, in particular, looked very strong. I almost didn't recognise
Coleman. I lived in Swansea when Coleman, as a teenager, was breaking into the Swans'
first team. He was a left-back then. He's now a giant, a really big hulk of a bloke. I can
really understand now why Keegan wanted Coleman so much at Fulham and why he's come top of
all those 'Best Player in Division 2' polls. Like Jones, he was excellent - and seems to
have erased all of his bad Anfield memories…
The crowd did its best to ignite the occasion. The place was about a
third full. The end opposite the Kop was empty bar a small huddle of Denmark fans seated
on the top tier. At the Kop end, meantime, there was some serious noise. In one corner sat
a cluster of Merthyr fans who picked up their 'DIAL M FOR MERTHYR' banner every time Wales
got a corner - just so they could get on the telly. (Dial M - top fanzine by the way. See
RP7). In the Centenary Stand the ref was getting some undeserved abuse. Hinting at some
Eurovision Song Contest-style corruption, one group of fans sang, 'THE REFEREE'S FROM
SWEDEN', when in fact all three match officials were from Belgium. There were also a few
unmemorable quips about Danish bacon.
It was also entertaining watching the respective 'dugouts'. Well, at Anfield they're not
really dugouts; rather, just benches located at the bottom of the Main Stand. The Wales
and Denmark camps were situated very adjacent to each other. I kept seeing this big bloke
in a flash black suit jumping up and down. For most of the game I just assumed it was the
Denmark boss. Surely Big Nev wouldn't be wearing a suit? Well, I was wrong. It was the new
joint-manager. He not only looked very dapper, but also very worked up. He was bobbing up
and down like a weeble. When Southall is interviewed on the telly he always comes across
as a totally ordinary bloke, with real passion, and his touchline antics were real
evidence of this. This just might have been Big Nev's one brush with managerial fame. I
really can't imagine a keeper as a manager - even if he does have a natty black suit.
The Danes came close to scoring on several occasions. Jones was often
the barrier; at other times the visitors were just guilty of bad finishing. For most of
the game though I was fascinated by the revolving touchline advertising boards at each end
of the ground. A veritable Who's Who of Obscure Danish Companies: BEDRE BAD DANMARK,
GEVALIA, BAUHAUS, MARABOU, FLEXLAN REALCREDIT DANMARK, BLIVKONSTABEL, ERICSSON, KVICKLY
and ENNATURLIG DEL AF DIN HVERDAG (which somehow sounded like an advert for Scandanavian
yoghurt). Oh, and there was CARLSBERG, which seemed fair enough given that we were
watching Denmark playing at Anfield.
Denmark's two late goals were, again, fairly predictable. I don't think
Wales deserved to win, but somehow 2-0 to the away team seemed a harsh final scoreline.
That said, the game reminded me of one of those FA Cup ties between a Premiership side and
a decent Second Division outfit. In the end, I'm afraid, the class always seems to tell.
And two meaningless bits of trivia to round things off: the matchball
had to be replaced after two minutes (it was deemed by the referee to be unfit) and the
biggest cheer of the night was reserved for the tannoy man when he announed the final
scoreline, 'BULGARIA 1 ENGLAND 1'. Something to be happy about after all.
