Football – Jason likes to travel

Brugge – March 2019

Hello dear readers! I suggested in my last post that I was hoping to get back in to the habit of blogging regularly, ideally weekly, so I’m going to at the very least try and start the year well and I guess we’ll see how it pans out in the long run.

For a multitude of reasons things have gotten a little out of sync in terms of chronological travel blog posts but we’re going to rewind back to the, quite frankly ludicrous, year of 2019.

Some of you may recall that 2019 was a year of footballing adventures that defied any expectations I’ve ever had of Spurs. A strange, strange time that resulted in trips to Dortmund (Köln), Amsterdam and a Champions League final in Madrid (what!!?).

This story begins in Köln (Cologne). Now, I need not tell some of you about my love/hate relationship with Köln. It’s all love now and the end to this story will epitomise that but I’ve visited the city so many times that there has certainly been some anti-climatic feelings about visiting Köln.

This particular trip to the city was my fourth overall but more importantly my third visit in just three years – a tad too much time in one city. I had four nights booked off of work and I knew I couldn’t do the entirety of that in Köln, I decided upon a healthy balance of two nights in Köln and two nights somewhere else that was convenient enough to travel to.

I’ve been to this region a lot. I weighed up options in Germany, France, Luxembourg, Belgium, the Netherlands and looked for any and every bit of inspiration imaginable and perhaps unsurprisingly football served up that bit of inspiration. I scoured through the football schedule knowing that their had to be some European games on somewhere – that’s why I was here to begin with after all – to watch Tottenham in Dortmund on Tuesday night.

What games were on Wednesday night? What games were on Thursday night? Eintracht Frankfurt v Inter Milan? YES! Frankfurt’ll do! Sign me up for that! Four nights, two in Köln, two in Frankfurt – sorted!

Alas it turns out that Eintracht had planned ahead and sold tickets months in advance to its most loyal supporters. They’d sold tickets earlier in the season on the possibility that Eintracht’s European exploits continued so tickets for a game only confirmed in February had been sold in the prior December. The game was guaranteed to be a home sell out crowd – Inter Milan a fitting occasion for those loyal supporters who’d signed up blindly but an absolute nuisance for a daytripper such as myself.

I was out of luck in terms of obtaining a ticket with the home supporters but how difficult would it be to get tickets as an Inter Milan away fan? I can be Italian for 90 minutes, right?

Sadly I was out of luck there too. This was probably the ‘glamour’ tie of the competition that week and a great match-up but I wouldn’t be attending. I figured I’d just have to settle for soaking up the atmosphere in Frankfurt and then finding a pub to watch the game in later that evening.

I flew out to Köln with the intention of being in Frankfurt two days later but there was this nagging voice eating away at me. “Why are we going to Frankfurt again?”

Perhaps I was judging it too harshly but I had no real desire to go to Frankfurt. Fellow travel blogger Marion actually sells it very well here but as it got closer and closer I couldn’t shake this feeling that I wasn’t actually that bothered about visiting Frankfurt. For football it made absolute sense but without a ticket I lost the only interest I had in visiting the city.

I hadn’t yet booked trains from Köln to Frankfurt and given I was flying home from Köln too I didn’t really have a need to go to Frankfurt. I had free cancellation for the hotel that I’d booked so I had no financial investment weighing me down either.

I repeatedly mulled it over on Monday evening in Köln. If not Frankfurt, where? I’ve been to this region so many times. Other German cities, the Netherlands, Belgium, France.. I explored several different options, calculated the time and costs involved and whether they were worthwhile.

Amsterdam was one place particularly calling for me to return. Ironically I ended up back there a few weeks later anyway so I’m glad I didn’t waste this trip on Amsterdam. I’d resigned myself to the reality that Frankfurt was where I’d be heading on Wednesday morning.

I woke up on Tuesday and gave myself one last glimpse, one last opportunity to find an alternative and another at the top of my wishlist jumped out at me – Brugge or Bruges as you may know it.

I’d been to Brugge before but I feel like it’s somewhere that I had unfinished business with. Firstly I only visited on a daytrip, that’s actually a good amount of time in Brugge but the prospect of staying overnight really did appeal to me. Secondly I’d previously visited with friends, I really enjoyed the company and we had a great time in Brugge together but there’s something about discovering a place solo that also really appealed to me – a new way to experience the destination. Then lastly, I had no photos from my time in Brugge. Technology failed me and I arrived in the city without any way of capturing the occasion. Fortunately I was with friends and so there are photos from our time there but when I blogged about it the first time I had to pinch photos from my friends Kelly and Walker to help “tell the story”.

I felt inspired to go back to Brugge and managed to find a hotel that was cheaper than the one I was staying at in Frankfurt. The train tickets were also cheaper so it was a bit of a no-brainer. Take a cheaper trip to somewhere I actually wanted to go to or stick with “the plan” and spend more to visit somewhere I wasn’t that fussed about?

Spontaneity won the day! I’d come to Germany with the intention of spending four days in Germany but a last minute change of plans meant that I was actually whisking off to another country for a couple of days – Belgium, here I come!

On Wednesday morning I woke up excited and checked out of my “usual” hotel in Köln. See you soon Germany, I’m off to Belgium!

There isn’t a direct train from Cologne to Bruges so I would have to change in Brussels. I made sure to catch quite an early train which meant I arrived in to Brussels before lunch. Had I not also been to Brussels so many times I might have been inclined to have taken a little detour over to Grand Place and had a wander but I decided I’d just head onwards to Brugge.

A little while later I’d arrived and tried to recall which way I needed to go. I’d previously visited in December when the city is much busier, it’s a pretty place to visit at Christmas time but crowds are much less sparse in March and although I had a vague idea of where I needed to go, the option of “follow everyone else” wasn’t really much of an option on this occasion.

I have quite the habit of romanticising a lot of the places I visit and before returning I pondered if Brugge would be as pretty as I remembered it. It didn’t take long for me to be reminded of its beauty. Walking along its cobbled roads in to the heart of the city is just breathtakingly beautiful. It’s such a magical place. I kept stopping to take photo after photo.

By the time I reached the centre it was too soon to check in to my hotel so I went and found myself some lunch – opting for something typically flemish – pizza?

Alright, maybe not but it was beginning to rain and so I just ducked in to this Italian restaurant a few yards in front of me that seemed as good a spot as any to grab some lunch at.

After lunch I just went for a wander. One of the things I particularly love about Brugge is its a good place to get lost in. Head in any direction and you’re likely to find something pretty or discover something you’ve not seen previously. I’d been here before, I had nothing that I particularly wanted to do but I could just walk aimlessly for hours here.

Eventually I popped over to my hotel to check in and drop my things off. I relaxed for a little but before my attention turned to plans for the evening. I had a quick look online for any potential evening entertainment but struck out so decided I’d just go have some dinner, enjoy a few Belgian beers and perhaps watch the evening’s football somewhere. Being quite a touristy place means it isn’t difficult and in the end I returned to an Irish pub we’d gone to on the previous trip.

Following on from a few beers I wandered back in the direction of my hotel. Although Brugge is quite a touristy place, it’s largely a popular day-trip for a lot of people and certainly at this time of year was pretty quiet after dark. I had much of Brugge to myself and it was peaceful and pretty in equal measure which was a great opportunity to try and capture some night-time photos without hordes of people around before heading off to sleep.

The next morning I woke up and had a relaxed start before mapping out my plans for the day. Having not done so on my first visit I was really keen to climb Brugge’s famous Belfry on this occasion and made that my first stop of the day.

When we’d come previously there looked to be long queues but fortunately I arrived soon after they opened their doors and also being March it wasn’t so busy anyway. The Belfry operate a one-in, one-out policy so you might have a little wait for other visitors to make their way down again but I didn’t have to wait particularly long.

It’s a 366 step climb to the top of the Belfry, I don’t recall it being particularly strenuous if I’m honest but that might just be because it was a few years ago now. The views at the top are wonderful and I lucked out with the weather as it was a sunny day so had no problems enjoying those views and made sure to get a few photos from high above the city.

I lucked out with the timing because it wasn’t long before clouds were overcast and rain was on the way. I wanted to go and find myself a spot to grab some lunch but the weather forced me to lazily duck in to one of the first restaurants I came across in the main market square of the city.

I asked for a table for one, knowing it’d likely be expensive but took one look at the prices and my stomach sank. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have stepped in there in the first place, it was only rubbish weather that had sealed my fate.

“Well this is it.. I’ve already sat down, I’m obliged to eat here now.”
“Wait, no Jason. You don’t! You’ve not even ordered anything yet, just get up and walk out!”
“but I’ve sat down. I can’t change my mind now..”
“GO!”

It’s weird how our minds work isn’t it? I was borderline contemplating staying there for the most illogical of reasons.

“I have to commend you on your parenting. Your son Jason is so polite and well-mannered. Even when we handed him the sandwich menu charging 500 euros each he refused to walk away. We were even taking bets in the back as to how far we could push our luck. What a great guy!”

Fortunately I came to my senses. I know that those hot-spots are perfect for lazy tourists such as myself on this occasion and that you can probably get away with charging a bit more for below-par food but these prices were taking the piss a little too much. I could find somewhere else, surely?

I braved the weather and scurried out of there as quickly as I could. Alright, where next?

I took a little wander and perhaps I’d exaggerated just how bad the weather was. A little drizzle wouldn’t hurt right? I’m English for crying out loud! I should be used to the rain!

As it was the Belgian weather is as temperamental as the English so it wasn’t too long before it had brightened up again. I didn’t have much fortune finding a place for lunch but I was content just wandering along Brugge’s canals and discovering new walking routes within the city. After about an hour of not really doing anything I stumbled upon a small shop selling Belgian waffles and figured that’d keep me going until dinner later.

You might be sensing a pattern here but my afternoon featured more wandering, I stumbled upon a small area called Begijnhof which was home to a church, some pretty houses and a gardened area with numerous daffodils adding some colour to place. It’s a pretty World Heritage Site and the reason for that status is its history as a place inhabited by nuns and women who’ve led a celibate life – today it’s still inhabited by nuns and local women who’ve chosen to remain unmarried.

A little beyond the Begijnhof area was the Minnewaterpark which is home to more beautiful buildings, gardens and landmarks such as the ‘Poertoren’ (gunpowder tower).

Admittedly we’d only visited for the day previously but given its proximity to the train station we’d somehow bypassed this entire area of Brugge on my previous visit. It’s a pretty part of the city and was a nice accidental discovery. In better weather I’m sure the park and gardens are a very popular picnic spot to enjoy on a warm afternoon.

The afternoon quickly disappeared and my focus shifted towards evening plans again. I popped back to the hotel for a brief wind-down and this time decided I’d do a little research after the lunch debacle.

“How about we find a restaurant online Jason and then there’ll be no surprises when you sit down!?”
“Hmm, that sounds a little too logical but okay, we’ll give it a try.”

I found somewhere suitable and ventured over to this cosy restaurant not too far from where I was staying. I arrived soon after they’d opened so luckily it wasn’t too busy, not that I imagine too many places are on a Thursday in March. It was a nice way to begin the evening.

From there I checked out a couple of pubs in the city before winding back to the Irish pub in the hope of seeing a little more football. They didn’t appear to be showing the Eintracht v Inter game so I had to settle for watching Arsenal lose instead – a small consolation you could say! Haha.

The next day was my last in Brugge and indeed in Europe. My flight home from Köln wasn’t until 11:30pm so I had plenty of time ahead of me to still enjoy the day. I had quite a lazy start to my day before checking out of my hotel and hitting the streets.

I decided before leaving I should pay at least one Belgian brewery a visit so swung by the De Halve Maan brewery for a beer. I think they offer tours too but I was content to give that a miss on this occasion.

After a beer my attention switched towards lunch and I decided I’d need to force myself in to trying a local delicacy that I’ve often steered clear of in Belgium – the Moules Frites!

Long-time readers will recall stories of Weetabix Boy and know that growing up at times I was often quite fussy when it came to food. I’ve definitely got better over the years, I’m much more adventurous now and on many trips prior to this one but the thought of eating mussels has never appealed to me.

I’d been to Brugge before of course but also Gent, Liege, Brussels a few times and even the French city of Lille which has many Flemish influences but never had I plucked up the courage to give mussels a shot.

However it was weighing on my mind and I told myself I would not be leaving the city without trying them. I’d say I went on a hunt for the famous ‘Moules Frites’ but let’s be clear, they’re on just about every restaurant menu in Belgium. It wasn’t a difficult hunt. I found a restaurant that took my fancy and ordered this much-avoided dish up to this point.

The verdict? Underwhelming.

Maybe I am just that picky but I think part of the problem is that it’s work to get to the edible parts. I don’t want to have to fight with my food to enjoy it and even getting to the “good stuff” I was largely underwhelmed. That’s nothing against this particular restaurant, I am sure it was a good “Moules Frites” but it just didn’t take my fancy at all.

The good news is that I tried it. I can safely bet I’ll never have it again but at least I know where I stand with Mussels. Belgium nailed it with its waffles, chocolate and beers but its national dish is a bit of a disappointment.

In hindsight it feels like the trip ended on a downer but I didn’t leave Brugge feeling that way. at all. I’d had a good time and was pleased to be leaving with more memories of this beautiful fairytale town. I walked back to the train station and headed onwards to Brussels and then back to Köln.

The perk of so many visits to Köln was that I knew my way around pretty well. I still had time to kill before my flight and I didn’t have to worry about finding my bearings after getting off of the train. I wandered down to one of the restaurants down by the river and grabbed myself some dinner and a beer as my finale to this trip.

I don’t often do a Monday-Friday trip. My motto is to maximise as much travel time as I can with my time off and working Monday to Friday means I’ll almost always arrive home again at some point on the Sunday.

I’d reached the end of my time in Brugge and I pondered whether I extend my stay a little. I thought about ditching my flight home and perhaps getting a train (Eurostar) home from Brussels later in the week. Obviously I didn’t do that because here I was in Köln but that same voice was speaking to me “why am I going home on a Friday?”.

I’ve grown to love Köln and I sat there drinking a beer feeling warm and fuzzy about where I was (what do they put in the beer!?). I didn’t want to go home yet. Three months earlier I was whingeing about coming here but we can forget that part, can’t we?

My love/hate relationship with Köln was in its love mode and I started considering my options. How much would an extended trip cost me? Train or flight home? Hotel for two nights, or even one night – whatever works.

I added it all up and came to the conclusion it’d only be something like £6,209 to stay in Köln for an extra five minutes – “it’d totally be worth it Jason, honest!”

Common sense got the better of me again, cruelly this time. I couldn’t justify how much it’d cost me to stay in Germany for two more nights, nor one more night. It was bloody tempting but the sensible side won this battle. Probably for the best given I had no clue that I’d be visiting Amsterdam and Madrid in the near future.

If it couldn’t be one more night, it at the very least had to be one more beer. I was prolonging the inevitable. I knew that it was time to go home. Two nights in Köln, two nights in Brugge. It had been a lovely trip, topped off with a Spurs win, but I slowly made my way back to the airport and said Auf Wiedersehen to Deutschland.

Having visited Germany in 2013, 2014, 2015 (x2), 2016 (x3), 2017 (x2) & 2019 it’s sad to say that I haven’t been back since but I’m sure the next German adventure won’t be too far away.

Until then, stay tuned!

Jason

We need to talk about Harry..

Hey dear followers. Be warned: this is one of those football chats! I said a while back that the blog would be a bit “whatever I fancy talking about” rather than specifically travel and this is one of those football reads that might not interest you. If so, now is the time to look away!

This however is going to be a little more analytical, statistical and just generally applauding one of the very best – Harry Kane!

Why does dear Harry justify a blog post of his own? Honestly? I just need to explode about it somewhere because it drives me bonkers how little people appreciate what we’re witnessing right now.

I think about it constantly as Kane achieves another record or closes in on the next. I’ll start throwing numbers at you soon but the lack of recognition & the level of criticism he still receives is genuinely mind-boggling and also infuriating to me.

I don’t know if it’s just because we’re a social-media driven society that is overly critical and abusive of anything and everything but my hope is that future generations will look back and be more appreciative of Harry fucking Kane. Much in the same way that current generations look back at Jimmy Greaves and think – “wow! What a player”.

Jimmy Greaves is in my mind the greatest striker this country has ever seen and the stats undoubtedly back that up but there’s a little part of me that hopes that he got stick every week to make sense of the criticism I see for Kane today. It baffles me endlessly and I get so defensive about it because please just give the man the respect he deserves! Someone tell me Jimmy Greaves got slaughtered in the stands every week?

I may be jinxing the man but before the end of the season Harry Kane will be Tottenham’s greatest ever goalscorer, England’s greatest ever goalscorer and likely also surpass 200 top flight goals. So here are some numbers for you..

Bear in mind, these are correct as of today (13th October 2022) but will likely be higher dependent upon when you read this!

Tottenham’s greatest goalscorers (the 100 club)
1 – Jimmy Greaves – 1961-70 – 266 goals in 379 appearances
2 – Harry Kane – 2011-present – 257 in 399 appearances
3 – Bobby Smith – 1955-64 – 208/317
4 – Martin Chivers – 1968-76 – 174/367
5 – Cliff Jones – 1958-68 – 159/378
6 – Jermain Defoe – 2004-2014 – 143/363
7 – George Hunt – 1930-37 – 138/198
8 – Son Heung-Min – 2015-present – 136/338
9 – Len Duquemin – 1947-57 – 134/307
10 – Alan Gilzean – 1964-74 – 133/439
11 – Teddy Sheringham – 1992-2003 – 124/277
12 – Robbie Keane – 2002-2011 – 122/306
13 – Les Bennett – 1946-54 – 117/294
14 – Jimmy Dimmock – 1919-31 – 112/438
15 – Glenn Hoddle – 1975-87 – 110/490
16 – Bert Bliss – 1912-22 – 104/215
17= – Billy Minter – 1908-19 – 101/263
17= – Johnny Morrison – 1933-39 – 101/154

I never thought I’d see Jimmy Greaves record broken. Don’t get me wrong, I still think Greaves is the greatest striker this country has ever seen and had he played for Tottenham for longer he’d likely have scored many more but that record is going this season. Maybe before Christmas?

Year after year I’ve seen Kane inch closer but whilst so far away you’d still be sceptical about seeing the record smashed. However in recent seasons I’ve actually started believing that Greaves could be caught and this is finally the season it will happen. The bloke already has ten for the season and I’d be amazed if he doesn’t add another ten to his tally with thirty-odd games to go. Harry Kane will end his career as Tottenham’s highest ever goalscorer and I do believe that THAT record will never be beaten!

A Premier League comparison!
Going in to this historic season I was curious as to how our Premier League counterparts compared. Who are the highest goalscorers at each of the 20 Premier League clubs. How does Harry Kane stack up against the rest?

Everton – Dixie Dean – 383 goals
Liverpool – Ian Rush – 346
West Ham – Vic Watson – 326
Leicester – Arthur Chandler – 273
Spurs – Jimmy Greaves – 266
Manchester City – Sergio Aguero – 260
Harry Kane – 257
Manchester United – Wayne Rooney – 253
Wolves – Steve Bull – 250
Aston Villa – Billy Walker – 244
Leeds – Peter Lorimer – 238
Bournemouth – Ron Eyre – 229
Arsenal – Thierry Henry – 228
Southampton – Mick Channon – 228
Nottingham Forest – Grenville Morris – 217
Chelsea – Frank Lampard – 211
Newcastle – Alan Shearer – 206
Fulham – Gordon Davies – 178
Crystal Palace – Peter Simpson – 165
Brentford – Jim Towers – 163
Brighton – Tommy Cook – 123

Never say never with Harry but I think that top three may be beyond his reach. Ultimately it’ll depend on how many more years he plays for Tottenham but even as one of Harry Kane’s biggest admirers I’d be surprised if he touches Dixie Dean’s record for Everton. Nevertheless, his goal tally would place him as the highest goalscorer at most clubs in the division.

More to the point, is this the last club record to go? People are raving about Erling Haaland at the moment and might suggest he could smash Sergio Aguero’s record for Manchester City but the reality is doing it consistently for so many years is difficult to do. Likewise, changing football clubs is much more common in the modern era. As good as he is, I don’t expect Haaland to be at Manchester City long enough to beat the incredible Sergio Aguero – who would have scored many more himself but for injuries.

However even looking at clubs lower down the list.. Brighton’s record looks remarkably low for instance but as I said, it’s so rare for players to stick around for long enough to beat such a record. If Brighton found themselves a 20-goal-a-season striker, how long would he be at Brighton before being prized and tempted away by a bigger football club?

I haven’t drifted through all of the thousands of football clubs in England but certainly at the highest level, I think Harry Kane might be the last striker we see break such a record for one club – unbelievable!

England’s greatest goalscorers (the top 10)
Wayne Rooney: 53 in 120 caps
Harry Kane: 51 in 75 caps
Bobby Charlton: 49 in 106 caps
Gary Lineker: 48 in 80 caps
Jimmy Greaves: 44 in 57 caps
Michael Owen: 40 in 89 caps
Tom Finney: 30 in 76 caps
Nat Lofthouse: 30 in 33 caps
Alan Shearer: 30 in 63 caps
Vivian Woodward: 29 in 23 caps
Frank Lampard: 29 in 106 caps

Harry Kane could have a terrible World Cup in November but realistically, Harry Kane is also going to end 2022 as England’s greatest goalscorer. Personally I hope he surpasses the record in Thanksgiving week v the USA as it’ll make my trip the little bit sweeter.

However even if he doesn’t surpass Rooney at this World Cup, it’s an inevitability it happens at some point. I expect it to happen in Qatar but that might be tempting fate.

I actually think England’s record is fairly low in all honesty. According to Wikipedia (the most legitimate of sources obviously..) 75 players have scored more than 50 goals for their country. Cristiano Ronaldo has 117 and counting for Portugal which shows how far off England’s record is by comparison.

Nevertheless, Harry Kane is going to continue playing and scoring for England for a few years yet so it’ll be interesting to see how high he sets the standard.

A lot of criticism surrounds Kane’s England record in particular which is daft but should also be offset against the reality that he’s won a golden boot at a World Cup and has scored the most goals at international tournaments for England – again a pitiful tally of 10 goals at major international tournaments but it’s the record and another he’ll undoubtedly add to.

45 of his 51 England goals have also been in competitive fixtures and no England player has ever scored more goals at major tournaments. Remarkably at the most recent tournament there were calls for him to be dropped – from England pundits who arguably achieved less in their England careers.

To add a little controversy, if Kane were to win a World Cup that’d cement him as England’s greatest ever for me personally. He’s been England’s most successful player outside of that famous ’66 squad. If Kane caps off his England career with a World Cup it’s undoubted in my mind.

The 200 club (200+ goals in the top division!)
This was a personal discovery around the time of the deaths of Jimmy Greaves and Diego Maradona – two of the greatest footballers to have ever played the game. Moreso Sir Jimmy’s death as it sparked up discussions about his goalscoring record.

I’ve never been too unfamiliar with Greaves record but he not only currently holds the record for the most goals for Tottenham but he’s in a league of his own when it comes to goalscoring at the highest level in English football.

It was only looking at comparisons around the world however that I saw a remarkable lack of English goalscorers with significant goals to their name.

Understanding that football in this country began in the mid-late 1800’s, it’s remarkable that only 27 players have ever scored 200 goals in England’s top division.

1) Jimmy Greaves: 357 goals in 516 games (1957-1972)
2) Steve Bloomer: 314 in 536 (1892-1914)
3) Dixie Dean: 310 in 362 (1924-1938)
4) Gordon Hodgson: 287 in 456 (1925-1940)
5) Alan Shearer: 283 in 559 (1988-2006)
6) David Jack: 257 in 476 (1920-1934)
6) Charlie Buchan: 257 in 482 (1912-1928)
8) Nat Lofthouse: 255 in 452 (1946-1960)
9) Joe Bradford: 248 in 410 (1921-1935)
10) Hughie Gallacher: 246 in 355 (1925-1938)
11) Joe Smith: 243 in 410 (1908-1927)
12) George Brown: 240 in 366 (1921-1935)
13) George Camsell: 233 in 337 (1921-1939)
14) Ian Rush: 232 in 515 (1980-1998)
15) David Herd: 222 in 412 (1954-1970)
16) Harry Hampton: 219 in 357 (1904-1922)
17) Billy Walker: 214 in 478 (1919-1933)
17) Tony Cottee: 214 in 548 (1982-2000)
19) Dave Halliday: 211 in 257 (1925-1933)
20) Geoff Hurst: 210 in 519 (1959-1975)
21) Ronnie Allen: 208 in 415 (1950-1961)
21) Wayne Rooney: 208 in 476 (2002-2021)
23) Bobby Gurney: 205 in 348 (1926-1944)
24( Arthur Chandler: 204 in 309 (1925-1935)
25) Vic Watson: 203 in 295 (1923-1932)
26) Denis Law: 201 in 377 (1960-1974)
26) Harry Johnson: 201 in 313 (1919-1931)
Harry Kane: 191 in 288 (2012-present)

Only twenty seven players have scored more than 200 goals in England’s top division in 150 or so years of football? That’s BONKERS!

I raised this point on a football forum I frequent and someone also rightly acknowledged that the early days of football tended to feature more high-scoring contests, for whatever reason (before my time obviously!).

So of the 27 I singled out the post-war players and that made the list shrink to just ten remaining players!

Jimmy Greaves: 357 goals in 516 games (1957-1972)
Alan Shearer: 283 in 559 (1988-2006)
Nat Lofthouse: 255 in 452 (1946-1960)
Ian Rush: 232 in 515 (1980-1998)
David Herd: 222 in 412 (1954-1970)
Tony Cottee: 214 in 548 (1982-2000)
Geoff Hurst: 210 in 519 (1959-1975)
Ronnie Allen: 208 in 415 (1950-1961)
Wayne Rooney: 208 in 476 (2002-2021)
Denis Law: 201 in 377 (1960-1974)
Harry Kane: 191 in 288 (2012-present)

Only ten players have scored 200 top flight goals in 80 years of post-war football in this country. Ten!

Shout-out to Tony Cottee too because that was a surprising name on the list for me (I’d also never heard of David Herd or Ronnie Allen).

Jimmy Greaves has always set the bar for me as a Spurs fan, that’s the standard but I’d never considered 200 goals to be that unattainable. Players generally have anywhere from a 10-15 season career, sometimees longer. Scoring 20 in a season is the sign of a good striker, do that for 10 years – job done – 200 top flight goals! Easy peasy!

The reality though is that it doesn’t happen. There’s a higher influx of foreign players now, players switch clubs more frequently, players are rotated much more frequently, injuries happen so I understand it in more modern times but over an 80 year period it really surprised me that so few have ever scored that number in the top division.

Harry Kane is going to become only the 11th player in post-war-times to score 200 top flight goals. He’s got a good few years left too!

The Premier League (top 5)
Alan Shearer: 260
Wayne Rooney: 208
Harry Kane: 191
Andy Cole: 187
Sergio Aguero: 184

This tends to be the record that the media focus on the most – particularly with Shearer holding a punditry role in the media. This season Harry’s surpassed Cole and Aguero to take 3rd spot on the all time Premier League list (1992-present).

I’ve no doubt that Kane passes Shearer and the goalposts will then shift. People will start to point out Alan Shearer actually scored 283 in the top flight but I expect him to smash that too. I don’t think catching Greaves is realistic but what the numbers show, in any metric, is that Kane is one of the best strikers this country has ever seen.

More than a goalscorer
What shouldn’t go unsaid is that Harry Kane’s all round game is phenomenal. Some of those great goalscorers listed above were just that, players who’d stick the ball in the net and offer nothing more from their performances.

Admittedly I might be more biased when it comes to our Harry but I often find myself in awe watching Kane make everything look so easy. Forget his goalscoring and he’s still one of the most talented footballers I’ve had the joy of watching.

His range of passing is incredible, his decision-making is an art. Every players makes mistakes and has their share of bad games but I so often find myself applauding everything he does. The passing, the hold-up play, the flick ons, the clever fouls he wins – it’s unbelievable how good he is and then he’s a thirty goal-a-season striker on top of that? Come on..

The critics
and yet Harry Kane is one of the most abused players on social media. I see it daily, constantly. Any time he shares something on social media – BAM! Sometimes minimal criticism, often genuinely abusive stuff. It’s constant.

and whilst I don’t understand the mentality of abusing anyone, I’d be less sympathetic to it if he was a bit of a dick. Referring to that particular article, the most abused footballer on the list has very serious allegations around his name to at least give the statistics some context.

Kane in contrast you hear nothing about the life he lives. It’s all very quiet. He may well be the biggest asshole behind closed doors but he’s never found in the limelight in the way other superstars over the years have been. By all accounts he comes across as an individual that is professional and focused on little more than his football.

On the occasions you do hear from him publicly it’s supporting mental health charities or issues such as racism and homophobia. He was a big supporter of the women’s England’s success this past summer and in doing so was subjected to another barrage of abuse (“women showing you how it’s done..”)

Is it jealousy? I don’t know. Personally I think he has little to prove and yet people find something about his game or his personality or speech impediment to want to tear the man down – it pains me to witness the abuse he receives when he should be respected as one of the greatest ever and seemingly a decent role-model too.

Point of the post?
Honestly, just to make myself feel a bit better I think. I think about Kane’s record-hunting constantly – I’m obsessed and I don’t think anyone really cares or appreciates the greatness enough. I figured no social media post could have done my thoughts justice and that a blog post may do the trick and allow me to wax lyrical about him a bit.

I think in 20-30-50 years time people will be looking back at Kane’s record in the same way I reflect on the great Jimmy Greaves.

“Dad / Grandad, just how good was Harry Kane..?” – “He was the best..”

My dad still refers to that ONE Clive Allen season in the 80’s and I get it – 49 goals in a season, a club record that remains to this day but Harry Kane will always be that guy for me. 80 years old and still watching Spurs – “he’s no Harry Kane though is he..?”

Tottenham’s all-time record goalscorer, England’s all-time record goalscorer, the Premier League’s all-time record goalscorer. The latter still seems a way off but let’s be clear, Harry Kane has 4-5 more years left playing football and retiring before he’s surpassed Shearer would be the biggest surprise to me.

Will this post do anything to change people’s perceptions of Kane today? Probably not but the records he’s toppling are mind-boggling to me. I can’t imagine what numbers he’ll finish his career on and I dread the day he moves on from Spurs – how the hell do you replace him?

I’ve watched some sublime footballers and fantastic strikers at Spurs over the years but this standard is irreplaceable. The sooner robotic clones are introduced to the game the better, Harry Kane 2.0 scoring against Arsenal for the 500th time in 2052 will do me nicely!

Anyway I suppose I’ll wrap this up. I wanted to talk about it before the records start tumbling but be sure that they will do. I’m sure people will still find ways to dismiss his record. Three goals were against San Marino and one of his goals for Spurs was on a Monday afternoon at 15:06 so won’t count for some made-up reason.

People seem to find all sorts of unspoken clauses that diminish his record that little bit more. Seemingly the first striker in history to not have scored against an all-star-11 in 200 consecutive games from 30 yards out with his weaker foot.

Give me whatever metric you like, his record will hold up. He’s consistently done it at every level and has goals against a ridiculous number of teams including the very best that football has to offer.

257 and counting for Spurs, 51 and counting for England, ambitions to play in the NFL so he’ll probably go and tear up that sport one day too!

Perhaps we don’t need to talk about Harry but I certainly did so thanks for indulging me.

Harry Kane – generational talent! Oh and “he’s one of our own” too!

Madrid – May / June 2019

Hello dear readers! I hope all is well with you? I thought that I’d get back to writing about some travel.

I have written about football-related travels many times on the blog but this? This is a post I never in my lifetime thought that I’d be writing about.

I was listening to an episode of The Travel Architect’s podcast recently and the “travel quiz” on this particular episode revolved around the concept that people travel locally, nationally and internationally to watch sports or any event really at “bucketlist” venues – I am one of those people.

My love of football is no secret, I’ve been obsessed with the sport for as long as I can remember. Football is the biggest sport in England – by some distance. Football is the biggest sport in the world even and I’ve heard it nicknamed the “global language” – regardless of your native language, everyone understands football.

I think that’s particularly true for myself. I’m an introverted person, I’m quiet but that was multiplied tenfold as a child. I was so shy and so reserved but football was my comfort zone, I understood football and if we had a mutual love for the game it made it infinitely easier to connect with you. It was an easy bonding subject I suppose.

As a kid I just immersed myself in to all things football. To this day it’s probably the only passion I have that exceeds travel. I love and loathe it in equal measure, it infuriates me like nothing else can but the highs of the game are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

It didn’t matter what it was growing up. I could be playing football in the streets from dawn ’til dusk, collecting football stickers for the latest Premier League sticker album, reading Match magazine every single week or watching football on the telly. Playing computer games such as Championship Manager (“move aside Gerry Francis.. I’m taking Spurs to the lofty heights of the UEFA Cup!”), reading football-books.. whatever it was, I was obsessed!

I heard so many football stories from my dad’s youth – a very different time in football where tickets were more accessible and affordable. My dad would travel up and down the country with his mates and even experience the occasional foray in to Europe for the ultimate “away day” experience – hearing stories of Spurs in Belgium and UEFA Cup glory in 1984 was something I was so envious of for such a long, long time.

My dad’s “heyday” came and went. Marriage and kids and responsibilities followed and my dad had to stop going. Football became too expensive and required too much sacrifice to follow with the same frequency – sadly resigned to a life of “armchair football” but he still had enough love for it to pass on the reigns to his son. We’ll not give too much mention to the rebel Arsenal-supporting daughter! – “Why haven’t you disowned her dad?”

I loved football so much but my dad couldn’t afford to take us regularly if at all, it’s an expensive day out but my love for it was unrivalled. Growing up I’d firstly dream of playing on the biggest stage, playing for Spurs, winning the FA Cup and once the realisation kicked in that I’d never be good enough to achieve that, my hopes turned to my “idols” achieving that success on my behalf.

I wanted to see Spurs win an FA Cup (I still haven’t!), I wanted to see Spurs in Europe. Even as a deluded, hopeful child you’d never dream of Premier League or Champions League glory for little ol’ Spurs – that was beyond our limitations but just give me something to remember. Give me something to match up to those stories my dad has from the late 70’s and 80’s.

Year after year I’d witness disappointment after disappointment. I still haven’t forgiven Shearer for breaking my heart in the FA Cup semi final in `1999. Likewise I have held a bitter resentment against Germans, Kaiserlautern, for ending my sole European memory of Spurs far earlier than I was prepared for. Just the one European excursion in my pitiful Spurs-supporting memory – my dad’s fairytale stories are all a lie!

Jokes aside, I dreamt of football on the biggest stage – imagine going to watch Spurs in Europe or England at a World Cup. My dad went to France in 1998 and I watched on again, envious albeit ultimately with similar feelings of disappointment and heartbreak following another painful England World Cup defeat.

My school years were particularly painful, arguably Spurs worst era and similarly coinciding with the years (92-04) I was most susceptible to teasing from my peers.

I left school and typically Spurs fortunes changed. More importantly though, I left school. I was now of working age – the financial limitations my father had had, I did not. I had no responsibility and despite taking a weekend job in a supermarket I was finally free to spend my ~~hard~~-earned cash as I pleased – going to the football regularly.

I remember little of the first time my dad took me to White Hart Lane but I remember running up those steps and seeing that pitch for the first time – “wow!” – you dream about it but I don’t think that first time can ever disappoint. It’s Disneyland levels of magical – now that I was working I could finally come as often as I wanted.

Better yet, Spurs were improving on the pitch! In 2006, at 18 years old, I finally got to watch my beloved Spurs participate in a European competition – in the flesh! Tottenham vs Slavia Prague in London. A “glory, glory” European night under the famous lights of White Hart Lane!

The allure of European football, playing on the continent in places you have and haven’t heard of, has always mesmerised me. You read blog posts about the hidden gems of Europe – “secret off-the-beaten-path cities no-one has heard of” and it’s like mate, you underestimate the obscure places across the world that football fans know about because of some random football team that play there.

Going back to that previously mentioned podcast.. My love for European football in particular always came with an “I’d love to play there..” wish before materialising in to the “I’d love to watch a game there” dream instead.

There were and still are so many football experiences I’d love to witness one day – famous football stadiums, famous football matches and rivalries, famous football tournaments that would be incredible to see live.

Primarily I want those football experiences with Spurs of course but some aren’t possible and others aren’t realistic. I can’t watch Spurs in a World Cup but I’d still love to attend a World Cup one year – there’ll always be some regret that I didn’t go to Brazil in 2014.

It’s my dream to go and watch either domestic or international football in South America – Brazil and Argentina in particular as the footballing giants of the continent. It’s my dream to go and watch some of the big European rivalries, I have a list of football stadiums I’d like to visit before I die (or before they knock the stadium down!). I have so many football-bucketlist experiences to tick off!

European football again obviously holds a lot of those experiences and I never thought I’d see them with Spurs if I’m being honest. That Champions League anthem is mesmerising but I never really believed growing up that I’d watch Spurs participate in the competition, let alone multiple times as I’ve been fortunate to do. I never thought visiting the likes of the Camp Nou, San Siro, Bernabeu, WestfalenStadion or others would ever be possible.

After finally being able to go to home games regularly I attended my first Tottenham away game in 2008 – Spurs at Villa Park in Birmingham – what a historic, traditional stadium that is too. It’ll be a sad day should Aston Villa ever replace their stadium.

I went to multiple domestic away games over the years and then finally went to my first European away game in 2014 – Benfica of Lisbon, Portugal – one of Portugal’s biggest teams and a huge name in European football.

“Pinch me!”

It was “only” in Europe’s second-tier competition, the Europa League (UEFA Cup) but still – watching Spurs in Europe? “This is the dream!”

Since that first European outing I’ve watched football in a number of countries and even in that elusive Champions League competition I thought beyond little ol’ Spurs and then ‘here’ we are – June 2019.

I kind of knew, much like my father 30 years ago, that my footballing days were coming to an end. I’ve had this nagging feeling about a different lifestyle, different priorities and different responsibilities that suggested I’d have to “hang up my boots” so to speak.

It wasn’t necessarily imminent but I knew it wasn’t far away and so I went in to 2019 with the mentality that the next European outing, this, could be my last ever European away game with Spurs. I wrote that blog post knowing I was bowing out soon – I just wanted one final away European away game and “anywhere but Dortmund”.

Ironically Dortmund was one of those stadiums I never thought I’d see Tottenham play at – one of Europe’s most famous football venues and undoubtedly fitting of any worthwhile football bucketlist – home to the famous “yellow wall” of Borussia Dortmund.

Tottenham were drawn to play Dortmund in March 2016 and I’d literally only just come home from Georgia at the end of Feb and I was booking flights – I did not give a shit about work, I was not missing a “once in a lifetime” trip to Dortmund.

Seven months later we were back in West Germany in nearby Leverkusen and then in November 2017 we returned to Dortmund again! On that occasion I saw Spurs win but twice was plenty – there’s no other reason to visit Dortmund!

So faced with the possibility of a third “once in a lifetime” trip to Dortmund – I was praying to the football gods for some mercy and to send me anywhere else. My prayers fell on deaf ears: Tottenham Hotspur vs Borussia Dortmund – March 2019.

There were no guarantees of progress, no guarantees of more European games. This could be my last and only opportunity so reluctantly, back to West Germany for the fourth football excursion in three years. Spurs typically won comfortably which resulted in a Champions League quarter final against fellow English side, Manchester City.

Unbelievably Spurs succeeded and set up a first Champions League (European Cup) semi final appearance in 57 years – Tottenham vs Ajax – giants of Dutch and European football – “pinch me!”

Next up Amsterdam – with a touch of irony perhaps. Spurs have offered so many disappointments over the years. Typically I’m on the verge of packing it in altogether and Spurs decide this is the year for a cup run in Europe? “Thanks Tottenham..”

Amsterdam was not in the budget for the year but of course I had to go, hoping that Tottenham may well just go one step better than they did in 1962 and incredibly they did – a first Champions League (European Cup) final appearance in their 137 year history!

and so this is where this story begins!

“Begins? Jason, you’ve already written a novel!”

I know, I know but what’s a story without a little context?

I was ready to pack it in, just one final European outing. I’d budgeted the first six months of the year perfectly so that I could think about next steps with Haleigh. This was the supposed to be me winding down as far as the football was concerned but Spurs said “sod that, we were your first love!”

A Champions League final was an “at all costs” trip and boy was it. There was no scenario in which I wasn’t going to Madrid, with or without a ticket for the game, but I genuinely had no idea how I was going to make the logistics of this work.

As if the trip wasn’t expensive enough anyway, Tottenham’s European fate had been sealed on that memorable Wednesday night in Amsterdam. 24 hours earlier our opponents Liverpool had sealed their own fate – we’d face English opposition in Madrid but more importantly that meant fellow English supporters and travelers that had been afforded a 24 hour head start.

Reports suggest 100,000 or so traveled from England to Madrid for this game. I don’t know how accurate that is. I don’t know if it was more – quite possibly but for my fellow experienced travelers, try and book that trip with three weeks notice on very specific dates and when a vast majority have had a head start on your travel planning -it’s bonkers!

The simplest solution (“hey, we’re selling flights to Madrid sat on Ryanair’s wing for only £450,000 one way”) was a no-go.

I was 100% going to Madrid but it was time to get creative. Where do I fly from? What are my options? What’s the alternative to flying to Madrid? Barcelona? Bilbao? Where? Would it be cheaper to not fly from England? Maybe I’ll go out to Dublin or Paris or Marrakech or anywhere else first!

It was a headache! I was still in Amsterdam at the time and pondered if I just should start walking to Madrid now! I shared my frustrations with my parents and knew it’d probably have to wait until I got home.

“Your dad’s thinking of driving..”

Wait, what!!? Dad’s contemplating popping out of “retirement” for this one? Wow! I mean it probably shouldn’t have shocked me, this is big after all but still, my dad didn’t even own a passport at the time.

That said, anyone who was anyone was going to this. I think it was about Liverpool’s 408th Champions League final in 20 years and they’ve been to one more since then too but for Spurs? This doesn’t happen to the likes of us – a genuine “once in a lifetime!” experience.

I know it’s a case of being privileged and having the luxury of football as a priority in your life that you can do a trip such as this but it still surprises me that any Spurs fan missed this.

If you have to sell an organ or that Arsenal supporting sibling, do it! A family friend of ours flew over from his home in Australia to be in Madrid because this was the big one! Admittedly his journey may well still have been cheaper than any flight from England going to Madrid but he knew how important it was, I knew that I had to go and my dad likewise – a first Father-Son European away game!

My dad drove! A European road trip from Peterborough, England to Madrid, Spain. Another friend of my dad’s footballing days joined us for the roadtrip, quite surreal how much of the old gang had come out of obscurity for this one – I’d never met Lloyd before and I don’t think my dad had seen him in decades either but a trip worthy of a reunion!

The match was on Saturday, we left England after work on Thursday and intended to drive back on Sunday so this was as quick and as budget-friendly as such a trip would allow – sharing fuel and accommodation costs between us.

We left work on Thursday and headed for Dover where we’d be picking up Lloyd and more importantly, catching the late-night / early-morning ferry over to France. I can’t recall what time it was but let’s just say it was dark in the crossing.

I was a little apprehensive about taking the ferry. It makes me a little cautious about ever booking a cruise too, I get a little seasick I guess and I felt so rough coming back from Amsterdam three weeks earlier which was weighing on my mind a little bit.

Nevertheless we had a beer on board and kicked off the trip of a lifetime in style. The rest of the ferry was packed with football fans, predominantly Liverpool fans but two sets of supporters all in good spirit – all ready for the big game on Saturday!

We arrived in France early Friday morning and was able to catch the sun coming up over the country – being the end of May it was particularly nice and came up quite early.

The trip made me feel quite nostalgic. We’d take the occasional family daytrip to France when we lived in London and I also visited Spain on a coach-trip with school that no doubt took a much similar route that we did for this trip.

I remember nothing of France from those trips other than stopping at service stations and such in random places. For a long time I didn’t really feel like I’d really been to France. It was only after visiting Paris and Lille that I felt like I’d actually been to France and started falling in love with it. Lille was particularly nice visiting France in the summer and getting to see what the fuss was about. Up until then I’d never really got the fuss about France.

We were on the road for a good few hours on France, stopping occasionally for a food break and chance to visit the grand service stations of the country – feeling very nostalgic for the France I remember from my youth!

Mid-afternoon we arrived in our stop for the night. We didn’t want to do the full drive on Friday so agreed to stop somewhere on route – I’d had a little read on options and suggested Bayonne / Biarritz might be a good choice. So we booked a little budget backpackers hotel in Bayonne for one night – it was very basic. Tucked away in the middle of nowhere really and more dorm-like accommodation but perfect for one night – we had no problems with it.

We dropped off our things and decided we’d go and spend the rest of the afternoon at the coast. We got back in the car and headed for nearby Biarritz.

This was meant to be a whistle-stop one-nighter so none of us were that bothered about where we stayed, we hadn’t done any real research about what to do or what to expect from the area. More than anything it was a good base for us to then hit the road again in the morning.

So Biarritz took all of us by surprise – it is stunning! We stepped out of the car and I was blown away by its beauty. This is why people rave about the South of France!

The sun was shining, the water was gorgeous and it felt so relaxed. Biarritz were actually hosting the ‘World Longboard Surfing Championship’ this week but it seemed like we’d missed any of the major activity of the day. There were still a few people out in the water but it was so peaceful.

We found a little outside bar to pick up some beers and just sat by the water mesmerised. It’s so easy to glamourise travel places but this felt like paradise. The only disappointment was the reality that we were only here for one night. Part of me sat there, looking out to the water and thinking can’t we just sack off Madrid?

I’d been to Madrid before (and LOVED it), let’s find a bar for the game tomorrow and stay here ~~forever.~~ Why are we leaving this place so soon?

We enjoyed the views a little longer but didn’t hang around for particularly long. We got back in the car and returned to Bayonne, which also looked nice from the little we saw of it, before finding a place to grab some dinner near our hotel. We were pretty close to Spain by this point but still had a few hours drive ahead of us so were keen to get an early night and an early start in the morning.

On Saturday morning we woke up in eager anticipation of the day ahead. Champions League final day featuring Tottenham ~~fucking~~ Hotspur. This is actually happening!

Of course I was sad to be leaving the South of France, I am itching to return to Biarritz one day and also to explore more of the South of France because it had instantly won us over but nevertheless we had to go.

The drive over the border is gorgeous. As I said above, I’d done the school coachtrip to Spain before so this wasn’t of huge surprise to me but it was even prettier than I remember it being.

Even more Spurs and Liverpool fans were on the road by this point – all Madrid bound. We stopped off at more service stations along the way and picked up food for the morning to keep us going. Eventually we’d arrived in sunny, glorious Madrid.

I think Madrid is undoubtedly one of the best cities in Europe, I think I might go as far as saying it’s my favourite European city outside of London but on this occasion we weren’t here for the culture or anything else that Madrid has to offer. We found somewhere to park and headed straight for the dedicated fan-park hosting Spurs.

We picked up some beers and soaked up the building atmosphere. One of hope, one of optimism, one of disbelief. This fairytale-like story was one night away from reaching Hollywood. We’d been down and out so many times over the course of the season that there was this feeling of “it’s meant to be” and we just needed that movie-script ending to round it off.

Soon enough our family friend, Dave, had joined us. Coming all the way from ~~Australia~~ Barcelona, it was great to see him after a few years. I’ve seen him a few times over the years in England and we even met up a couple of times when I went to Sydney, now we were in our third country together and for a Champions League final! Had I mentioned that?

A little while later two more of the old gang, Dave number 2 and Mo, had come to join us for a little while too. A great opportunity for a reunion photo and a “we were there” moment.

Soon enough the fan-park closed. Dave 2 and Mo went their separate ways whilst the four of us went off in search for elsewhere to drink and hopefully a bar to watch the big game tonight.

We picked up a drunk stray from Aberdeen who’d seemingly lost his friends and tagged along with us for the night. We tried a couple of bars without much fortune – finding that they were either completely rammed with supporters or that they were completely empty because they had no TV to show the game. Eventually we had some fortune in a restaurant-ish kind of bar showing the game and selling beers which was all we really needed.

The day had been lovely. Everyone was in good spirits. I think there was a fear that with tens of thousands of Brits descending on Madrid that there’d be trouble. The Brits, and English in particular, don’t have the greatest reputation on the continent. Some of it is fully justified to be fair but on this occasion there was no need for such concern – everyone got along swimmingly. Now for the football..

All that build-up, all that anticipation and excitement? Minute one: Liverpool penalty – game over.

It still feels unfair, unjust even. I don’t think the decision will ever sit right with me and it just killed the game. Spurs huffed and puffed but without any real quality, it was probably one of the worst Champions League finals in truth but to have this grand occasion go like this so early in the game was and still is hard to accept.

I don’t know how much I ever really believed. I was always hopeful and had optimism, there was definitely fleeting moments of “we’re going to do this..” but Liverpool were of course the favourites for the game, favourites to win the trophy for the Nth time and so it proved.

As ever for Tottenham, no happy ending. No fairytale, no Hollywood movie to come. I can’t and won’t question the effort because we tried but even accepting we weren’t ever expected to be at this stage, it was no less painful. We huffed away and Liverpool hit us on the counter late on – an undeserved 2-0 in a game lacking any quality. We never deserved to win and perhaps it’s the bitterness talking but Liverpool were barely worthy winners themselves.

I walked out at 2-0 completely deflated. I needed to just walk somewhere for a bit. I had no interest in seeing the final whistle, no interest in seeing the trophy presentation. Who fucking cares?

We didn’t have accommodation for Saturday night. I think we’d made the decision to just find some kip in the car later on and then head out Sunday morning.

Nevertheless we hung out in Madrid for a bit after the game, mingling with a few people from the bar that we’d met. I dare say I wasn’t really present at all. Maybe its the years of experience supporting Spurs, maybe its the fact the other three have all tasted real Tottenham success but I think the other three took the defeat much better than myself.

I don’t know how any of them could find the energy to be sociable enough for chit-chat. In truth I just wanted to be as far from Madrid as possible. After maybe an hour we went and found a late-night joint for some cheap and greasy food. I’m not sure you’d necessarily associate Madrid as a good place for a kebab but it ticked the right boxes after a day of beer and football.

From there it was back to the car. Lloyd seemed to find the time to talk to every passing celebratory Scouser. To be fair to the Liverpool bunch, they were very gracious about it and complimentary of Spurs but I didn’t really find any consolation in it.

More to the point was that Lloyd was constantly stopping on our walk back to the car. I lost count of how many Liverpool fans we stopped for in the end – admittedly Lloyd was fairly drunk but I’m sure he was seeking them out – “just keep walking Lloyd, come on!”

My dad seemingly had much more patience than I did. Perhaps I needed to be a bit drunker myself but I wasn’t particularly interested in baby-sitting someone 20-30 years my senior, nor stopping for chirpy Scousers.

We said our goodbyes to Dave, wishing him well for the trip back down-under, and eventually got Lloyd back to the car having stopped for conversations with seemingly every single person in Madrid.

We slept on the outskirts of Madrid for a few hours kip before hitting the road again – determined to try and do it in a day and be back on a late-Sunday / early-Monday ferry back to England.

Sidenote and a word of warning for anyone that fancies doing this road-trip – the tolls aren’t particularly suited to back-seat passengers and dare I say drivers too! Lloyd seemed near-dead in the front seat and was completely passed out which left me on toll-duty as my dad drove and seemingly few seemed to fall on the actual drivers sides for some reason.

Maybe my memory is rusty but thinking back to it, I don’t know what you’re supposed to do if you’re a solo driver. A few tolls on I was an expert on the pay-process but it seems bizarre that that was the case. Perhaps manned toll booths on the right side of the road were closed because it was a Sunday and this was our only option? Who knows?

Anyway, we looked for somewhere to break up the drive once again and as tempting as it may have been to return to Biarritz we wanted to see somewhere different. Bordeaux seemed like an obvious choice but we opted to go to ‘La Rochelle’ instead, I figured I was more likely to visit Bordeaux one day and why not go somewhere else.

We struck out unfortunately. Perhaps we didn’t give it enough of a chance but for a flying visit, we certainly didn’t see the best of La Rochelle and wouldn’t necessarily be inspired to return. I’ve heard good things so I’d be inclined to go back and see if it could change my mind but it was barely a lunch spot for us and left no real impression.

We hit the road again pretty quickly and from there it was the odd service station on an otherwise uneventful drive. Lloyd eventually woke from his slumber, still feeling the effects of a heavy day of drinking. Having perked up a bit we grabbed some food and then made the gradual return to Calais, Dover and Peterborough respectively.

Reflecting on the trip as a three-parter makes it more special: Köln, Amsterdam, Madrid – wow!

It’s hard to detach from the finale, hard to detach from the pain of how it ended but when you take the whole experience in to account then I can only look back on it with fondness. Amsterdam was incredible, to follow that up with a Father-Son road-trip was particularly special and it’s a footballing-adventure I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

I’m gutted that this three-parter doesn’t get the Hollywood ending it deserves but hopefully you’ve enjoyed following along anyway. If this is to be my last football-inspired blog post and how I bow out of European football, what a way to do it!

Maybe there’ll be more European adventures to come, who knows? I’ve certainly cut back on the football this side of Covid and I’d be reluctant to go back to Dortmund for the 592nd time but watch this space I guess. There’ll almost certainly be a World Cup adventure in 2026 given that the USA are one of the host countries!

Anyway, time to wrap this up! Next time on the blog? No idea! Haha.

Stay tuned!

Jason

Amsterdam – May 2019

Hello dear readers!

Do you ever get those posts where you just can’t spit the right words out? It wasn’t my intention for this to be my next post but I was trying to write up part two of the Köln trip and it just wouldn’t come together. I enjoyed the trip but I’m just not enjoying writing about it.

So a change of plans, here’s Amsterdam!

Strangely though, you can still consider this to be somewhat of a ‘sequel’ to that Köln post. Between visiting Köln in March and visiting Amsterdam in early May I’d actually been to three different countries but this is still perhaps the “next chapter” of an unbelievable story.

I hinted at this in my last post but I knew back in 2019, maybe even earlier than that, that change was coming my way. I was feeling good about things with Haleigh and knew that at some point I really wanted to go out and live in the USA. There was no specific date in mind but “as soon as possible” was the aim.

The only thing that stopped me doing it any earlier was balance. I’ve always been quite sensible with money but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my enjoyment just to get to my end goal a little bit earlier – balance was a must!

So I meticulously mapped out the first six months of 2019 (read me) knowing that come July I’d be in a healthy enough financial position to really think about what was next, without having to sacrifice any fun in the first six months of the year.

I calculated that I could squeeze in trips to Köln, Washington, Helsinki and Dublin in the first half of 2019 if I was strict enough with my spending but I’d left myself no wiggle room. That was it!

Enter Spurs..

I often joke that football supporters probably hate the game more than those who claim not to like football. The game is rotten in so many ways that infuriate you as someone who cares about the game and, many of those reasons are ultimately part of the reason why I’ve since walked away from the game and cut down on attending.

Anyway.. Köln was my way of bowing out of European football. I had this inkling that it’d probably be my last European football away trip for quite some time, maybe ever? My priorities were changing and so it was quite bittersweet that my big finale ended up being a third trip to Dortmund.
You can’t moan about traveling to Germany really. The last couple of years in particular make you appreciate the luxuries we have but moan I did – “fucking Dortmund!”

I’d told myself that this decision came down to how willing I was to gamble. I knew this was the last season I’d be likely to do this so it was either Dortmund in the last 16 or I’d have to gamble and hope we reach the quarter finals and get a better away trip in the next round.

However I knew that there were no guarantees. It could be Dortmund now or Barcelona in the next round, in contrast it could be Dortmund or nothing. There was every chance we’d crash out of European football and that’d be my plans shattered. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d made assumptions only for Tottenham to disappoint me.

This wasn’t one of those occasions. Tottenham comfortably beat Dortmund 3-0 in London and it looked like the tie was over before we’d even got to Germany – “are you kidding me Spurs!?”.

I still had some nerves for the return fixture in Dortmund but in reality, unless Tottenham did something very stupid (see why I was nervous!?) we were very likely to be in the next round. We finished off the job in Dortmund and so it turns out that I could have waited a round. I could have gambled!

They soon did the draw for the next round and I took some solace with the knowledge that our next opponents were none other than Manchester City. If I’d gambled away four nights in Europe and had to settle for a European trip to Manchester I would have been beyond gutted – the only fixture more anti-climatic than a trip to Dortmund – we play in Manchester at least twice a year already.

The other piece of comfort was that this draw meant that this was the end of the line for Spurs. This was going to be our last European games of the season and not a trip I was going to have any regrets about. Manchester City were, and still are, far superior to Tottenham and there’s only one possible outcome to this tie. Dortmund was a 50-50 tossup but City? No chance! 85-15 in City’s favour and that’s if they have a bad day.

I don’t want to overwhelm you with football chatter so if you haven’t worked out where this is going already, catch up!

Tottenham weren’t supposed to win this tie. There are a multitude of script-like factors that played a part but fate was with Spurs and they did in fact beat Manchester City – qualifying for the next round in the most spectacular fashion. Tottenham were off to the Champions League semi finals.

I’d told myself I wasn’t going to a semi final. It was never in consideration. There was no wiggle room in my budget for more than one football trip so it was always either the round of 16 (Dortmund) or gambling for a quarter final (Manchester). The only exception I would make in addition to that would be a trip to Madrid for the final and let’s be clear that is NEVER going to happen.

The semi final happened to overlap with my mum’s birthday and that was further cause to stick by my commitment. I travel a lot but it’s rare that I’d miss a family birthday – I have no responsibilities, I can travel any time of year and I don’t particularly mind missing my own birthday but let’s be at home for the others if we can help it, eh? So I’d have to miss this one.

“I’m not doing the semi final, I’m not doing the semi final. I’m.. fuck!”

This wasn’t supposed to happen! I mean you really couldn’t make it up. I’ll turn 34 this year and for the bulk of that time Tottenham have inflicted misery upon misery over me. I wouldn’t change it for anything but that’s the reality. So in typical Tottenham fashion, even when things are going well they find a way to completely inconvenient me.

I was ready to leave my job, ready to head off to Washington for a while and Spurs threw me a curveball. You couldn’t have done this in any of the previous ten years of European football Spurs?

“I’m not doing the semi final” was a lot easier to commit to when hypothetical but an actual Champions League semi final? The only other time Tottenham have played at that stage of the competition was 1962 – this was literally once in a lifetime stuff. How could I possibly not go to Amsterdam!?

My hesitancy cost me. It’s not a mistake I usually make. Football travel 101 – you book your travel as soon as you know the game is confirmed, worry about the accommodation later but when you’re competing with thousands of other people for the same journey you don’t hang about!

I’d stupidly kid myself that I wasn’t going to Amsterdam and I suffered for it. I slept on the decision for two days and by the time I came to my senses, flight prices and Eurostar journeys from London had gone through the roof. Amsterdam is normally pretty cheap to travel to from the UK but not when every other Spurs fan is planning the same journey on the same dates.

Even for a Champions League semi final, it was hard justifying some of the prices I was seeing. Do I really want to pay this much for this trip when I could go to Amsterdam a week later for a fraction of the cost – it’s so hard to justify but this may never happen again.

I compromised, I really couldn’t justify paying stupid prices for journeys way beyond their usual value so I looked at another alternative – how much and how long would a coach take?

Amsterdam wasn’t in the budget but I couldn’t miss it so took the budget-friendliest option I could. Overnight coach from London to Amsterdam, overnight coach from Amsterdam to London, one night in a hostel in Amsterdam – let’s do this!

I booked everything and then had to send an awkward email to work. I don’t know how many of you have been guilty of this but I was on holiday in Washington and having to send my manager an email to request time off for another holiday. “I know I’m away at the moment but..” – such cheek!

A couple of weeks passed by and it was time! This was quite possibly the most ludicrous weeks of my life because I came back from Washington and started getting excited about Finland – my bank holiday plans I’d made at the start of the year.

I flew home from Helsinki on bank holiday Monday, went to work on Tuesday and then on Tuesday evening I made my way down to London Victoria. I’d been in the country less than 24 hours before running off again – quite absurd!

I grabbed some dinner on route and then picked up a couple of other snacks for the journey – best get comfy for the next 12 hours!

I wasn’t sure how busy or comfortable the journey was going to be so was quite pleased to get a window seat for the journey – towards the back of the coach with “the cool kids”. It quickly became apparent that I wasn’t the only Spurs fan on board which was an added bonus. At least half a dozen around me were also making the budget trip to Amsterdam and feeling optimistic about our chances. We’d lost the first game 1-0 in London but all was still to play for in Amsterdam.

With a lot of football chatter it made sense to keep tabs on Tuesday night’s other semi final. Barcelona had beaten Liverpool 3-0 in Spain but playing at Anfield on a European night? You never know..

With Liverpool 1-0 up and all to play for in the second half, I managed to get the game up on my phone. Let’s see how this plays out, shall we?

Liverpool turned it around, from 3-0 down to 4-3 winners! Anfield’s magic had struck again and produced one of the greatest comebacks you’re ever going to see in European football. It gave the few of us some real optimism for Amsterdam. It’s only 1-0, this tie really isn’t over yet!

The football had helped pass some of the time. Soon enough we were at the channel crossing and ready to go to mainland Europe! I wasn’t sure how we’d be crossing and had assumed by ferry but as it turned out we went over via the channel tunnel – a railway shuttle service for vehicles.

By the time we’d crossed in to Europe the mood of the bus was vastly different. The early excitement of a football adventure had been swapped for opportunist sleepers, hoping to catch a bit of shuteye before the morning. I dozed a little myself but not too much as we made stop-offs in Antwerp, Eindhoven and Utretcht. Antwerp the city that perhaps most caught my eye from the little I could see at night-time.

We continued on through the Netherlands at a rapid pace. I don’t know if the coach drivers happened to be Tottenham fans themselvess but we arrived at our bus stop in a neighbourhood called Duivendrecht two and a half hours ahead of schedule – fantastic as far as I was concerned!

Fortunately I’d been to Amsterdam before so whilst I wasn’t so familiar with Duivendrecht itself, I knew roughly where I wanted to kick off my trip – Amsterdam Centraal station please!

Amsterdam at 6am is quite the sight, a treat even. I hate waking up early when I travel but I also love seeing a city before it has had the chance to properly wake up – a bit of a dilemma but this was an occasion where I had no choice. I didn’t have a comfy hotel bed to curl up in so my only option was to have a wander along Amsterdam’s deserted streets.

Amsterdam is a beautiful city to enjoy regardless but getting to see it with nobody around was that little bit more special. I know I’ll never see Dam Square this quiet again for instance.

I had nothing I particularly wanted to do with my time in Amsterdam, it was a short and sweet trip and most of it would be preoccupied with football. I wandered off and made the most of Amsterdam being so quiet, capturing a bunch of people-free photos as I wandered around.

With places actually starting to open I soon went and found myself a little Amsterdam cafe to sit and get some tea from. I had made plans to meet up with a couple of friends later in the day but I had the morning free to myself.

After a second cup of tea I meandered on over to Amsterdam’s ‘MuseumPlein’ – home to a park and some of Amsterdam’s most famous museums. It’s a pretty area so wasn’t an entirely wasted walk but it turns out that the likes of the Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum were fully booked – it seems football fans aren’t completely uncultured hooligans and the thousands of Brits in town had had a knock-on effect.

I did some more wandering of Amsterdam’s canals before finding myself a place to grab some lunch. By the time I’d finished I was able to head over towards the hostel I was staying at for the night and check in. I’d stayed at Amsterdam’s Flying Pigs hostel before and although I don’t tend to stay in hostels as frequently anymore, for one night it seemed pretty ideal to be somewhere central and somewhere I also knew.

I checked in to my 6 bed dorm around 1ish and proceeded to find two near-dead Americans who weren’t able to rise from their beds and were still suffering a bit from the night before. They’d got caught up with the influx of Spurs fans in town on Tuesday night and seemingly suffered the hangover that followed. A couple of others sharing our dorm also turned up and we mingled about our various plans before I bid my farewell – extending an invitation or warning perhaps dependent upon your perspective.

“Dam Square..” – come join the party or avoid at all costs but either way it’s going to be busy and it’s going to be loud. I left my hostel dorm and I could hear Dam Square before I could see it – the English have arrived.

The beers were flowing, the Brits were serenading Amsterdam – Glory glory, Tottenham Hotspur. The rest of the afternoon was spent embracing the atmosphere and catching up with friends – Daniel and Natalie had also made the journey over to Amsterdam and so here we were in yet another country for Spurs.

Sadly this was one of the occasions where getting a ticket for the game was impossible. Nevertheless we wanted to be here, part of the atmosphere that only these European trips can offer – nothing can replicate the feeling of being amongst “your own”.

As kickoff approached Spurs fans scuttered off in various directions, not helped by the rain. We tried one pub on Dam Square which was rammed and had no luck getting in to. We ventured off down a side street and stumbled upon an Irish pub which seemed suitable enough for the evening. No idea where Natalie ended up, we somehow got separated and she ended up watching the game with another friend elsewhere.

By this point the nerves had kicked in, this was undoubtedly one of the biggest games in Tottenham’s history and please Spurs, just once eh?

BAM! Five minutes in and Ajax have scored to put them 1-0 up on the night and 2-0 up overall. That was not the start we wanted!

Time ticked on and Ajax have done it again, 2-0 up on the night and 3-0 ahead in the tie. I’ve had various and numerous Spurs disappointments over the years but is this really how this is going to play out? Our biggest game in my lifetime and we’re just going to crash out with a whimper? I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry at a Spurs team or performance. I’ve undoubtedly seen worse performances but on this stage it was unacceptable and indefensible. If we lose to Ajax then so be it, they’re a good team but at least do it the right way. At least give us a chance. Gutless, spineless, pathetic.

I considered getting up and going at half time. Let’s not pretend I can’t find a million other ways to actually enjoy my evening in Amsterdam. Something possessed me to stay, I dare say hope but in reality I must just enjoy the misery that comes with following Spurs. Why else let them put me through the ringer year after year, season after season, disappointment after disappointment?

“If Ajax score again I’m gone..” I say to Daniel. If we could just get one early goal in the second half, you just never know.

BAM! Lucas Moura! 2-1 on the night, 3-1 overall. The pub roars and for the first time there’s that glimmer of hope, just a small dash. Could we?

BAM! Four minutes later, Lucas Moura again! Beers go flying everywhere, this Tottenham dominated pub goes delirious. Belief for the very first time! Half an hour to go, only one goal needed, game on! The nerves have returned.

The next half an hour was agonising. So close and yet so far, every Ajax attack sent fear through my body, every missed opportunity for Spurs caused despair.

With a couple of minutes to go a cross comes in to the box, Vertonghen gets his head on it and..

~~BAM~~ crossbar. Argh! That was the chance! That had to go in!

Now this is typical Tottenham isn’t it? I was suddenly backtracking on my earlier hopes. This tie was dead and buried, Spurs had no chance but they couldn’t just leave it alone and allow me to suffer an embarrassing 12-0 defeat. No. It’d be much more fun to play like idiots for three halves of football, offer you that little bit of hope and then crush you in the finale.

Time ticked on and Ajax wasted every wasting second they could. Five minutes of injury time to play and another chance comes and goes. This is always the way with Spurs, it’s fucking cruel. So close and so far – no happy ending here.

Ajax waste more time and it seems like that is probably that. We get the ball back with seconds to go and boot a hopeful ball forward, we need a miracle. Hit and hope.

Llorente knocks it down, Dele flicks it on, MOURA!!!!!! 95:01 on the clock. Are you fucking kidding!? What the fuck just happened!?

Beers go flying again – more this time. Bodies go flying too. I’m thrown one way, Daniel the other direction as everyone piles in for a massive group-hug. Seriously, what the fuck just happened? How did that happen!? I have no words.

Things calm down long enough to watch the game kick off again. Now this would be typical Tottenham wouldn’t it? Surely even we can’t mess this one up? The referee finds another minute from somewhere, god knows where and prayers are being spoken all over Amsterdam. Erik Lamela decides the 97th minute of a Champions League semi final is the perfect time to do some stepovers and tricks on the edge of his box and proceeds to lose the ball – I daren’t repeat the words that came out of my mouth in the seconds that followed.

Time and place Erik, time and place! Get rid of the fucking ball man!

The final whistle goes and the pub roars again, very little beer left to throw by this point.

Myself and Daniel are finally reunited and we share a look that transcends words. Bemusement shared with the biggest grins imaginable, no explanation to what we’ve just witnessed. We embrace in a massive hug and I’ve completely gone by this point – the tears are streaming down my face. Spurs are going to Madrid for the Champions League final. Spurs have actually done it!

Myself and Daniel part and seconds later I’m crying in the arms of another Spurs fan and another and another. Swept up in the aftermath of multiple celebrations I head up to bar, just wanting a glass of water to catch my breath and I’m turned away – no service, not even for a quick glass of water – it’s closing time from the party-poopers.

Not that it mattered. The celebrations spilled out in to the streets and everyone is heading in the same direction – Dam Square! It is rammed with Spurs fans.

I still can’t stop crying. Pride just pouring out of me, happiness pouring out of me. Happiness for myself, happiness for every other Spurs supporter, player, manager and everyone associated with this wonderful, wonderful football club that I love and loathe in equal measure.

It’s evident at just how much this means to everyone but it’s just so hard to put in to words. Even now I well up when I think of that night. More hugs follow with stranger after stranger after stranger and I still can’t stop crying – this stuff just doesn’t happen to Spurs.

I can’t express just how many strangers I embraced and shared hugs with. It’s quite weird to think a year later we were in lockdown and couldn’t hug anyone! I got my 2020’s worth in one night!

The mood around Dam Square was just incredible and it wasn’t long before songs were ringing around the square! I somewhat felt for the hotel occupants that were probably hoping for a quiet night in an expensive hotel right on Dam Square and found hundreds singing on their doorstep in to the early hours – glory, glory Tottenham Hotspur!

I was reluctant to drag myself away but I was starting to feel quite dehydrated by this point and was desperate to go and find a bottle of water somewhere. I bid my farewells to Daniel and Natalie (who we bumped into again in Dam Square) and called it a night – back to the hostel.

I reeked of beer and debated taking a shower but that’s the one downside to hostel life, I didn’t want to disturb those already in bed and decided I’d just have to make do with a beer-drenched sleep – assuming that I could sleep.

I was still on such a high, laying in bed with yet more tears streaming down my face. I finally had a chance to catch up with some of the online reaction to what can only be described as one of the best nights of my life and seeing that joy shared only set me off further. Am I ever going to stop crying? I tucked my phone away and hoped that eventually my tear-filled eyes would allow me to sleep.

The next morning I woke from the strangest of dreams before remembering that actually, yes that did happen last night. It may well have been the stench of beer that helped remind me so I took the opportunity to shower before then checking out of my hostel.

I had nothing planned for my Thursday. In all honesty I couldn’t focus on anything else but football. My body was in the beautiful city of Amsterdam, my head was in Madrid – it’s all I could think about and working out the logistics of how I was going to get there.

I returned to a much quieter Dam Square and went in search of some breakfast, eventually finding a little place serving some crepes. They just so happened to have a little TV in the corner that were of course showing the highlights from the night before which I couldn’t take my eyes off – still in disbelief.

After breakfast I went wandering, off down one of Amsterdam’s canals but it was no use. I felt guilty but I just had no appreciation for where I was.

Sure Amsterdam’s pretty but I just want to go back to England and think about Madrid. I even went as far as looking for a Eurostar ticket and came very close to booking the next possible train but couldn’t justify spending a couple of hundred pound or whatever it was on a one way ticket – I’m just going to have to hang around in Amsterdam until my coach later this evening.

The nice thing about Amsterdam is that it’s a great city for doing nothing, it’s so easy to wander and not really care where you end up. I couldn’t tell you where I went in truth. Along this canal, down this street, across that bridge and being a glorious sunny day it was quite nice to get lost.

Eventually I stumbled upon a bar which I liked the look of and thought I’d stop off for a drink. I took a seat at the bar and by chance the guy to my right just so happened to be another Spurs supporter, a Spurs fan from Helsinki of all places! I mentioned that I’d just been to Helsinki and he offered a few recommendations for next time and then taught me a few Finnish words which was quite fun.

We grabbed another beer and ordered some ‘bitterballen’ which I hadn’t tried before (delicious) before eventually going our separate ways. I wandered a little more but by this point I was just killing time really, not too much longer and I’d be catching my coach home.

I decided to pop over to Amsterdam’s Hard Rock Cafe to get a late lunch and an early dinner. Being Amsterdam, its HRC inevitably overlooks a canal but I took seat at the bar as it was a little busy in the restaurant which ended up working in my favour. I always like the HRC, I’ve ticked off a few on my travels but this occasion was particularly memorable.

I finished off my food and the barman comes back and asks if I fancy another beer – “on the house!”.

How could I possibly say no to that? A wonderful gesture for no reason at all. I had plenty of time to kill so of course, another beer sounds perfect! I was so grateful!

From there it was a gradual winddown to departure. The free beer had certainly perked up my mood for Amsterdam but there wasn’t anything I really wanted to do. The most logical thing would probably to have gone elsewhere to grab a drink but I didn’t really fancy that either ahead of a long journey. I decided to just walk over to the bus stop, a good few miles away.

It was a nice way of seeing parts of Amsterdam I hadn’t ventured to previously. I didn’t walk the whole way in the end, maybe half of it before hopping on the metro. I’d gone from loads of time to kill to a mini-panic that I’d dawdled too much and now time wasn’t on my side.

I needn’t have worried as I got to the bus station with far too much time and nothing in the area but at least I was on time. I popped to a nearby supermarket to grab a bottle of water for the journey.

Frustratingly my card proceeded to decline and I had nowhere to get any cash out so was just about to put the water back before a kind stranger stepped in – lucking out with another freebie!

The journey back to Amsterdam was a little busier – no idea why but I guess a few fancied a trip to London. There were again a couple of Spurs fans on board who I got talking to – Madrid inevitably the hot topic.

This time we were taking a ferry journey across the channel which was the first time I’d done so for many, many years. Despite being well versed in travel, sea-travel is seemingly not my comfort zone! Stick me up in the sky and I’m generally fine but ferries? Bleurgh..

I felt woozy pretty early on and hoped to just ride out the journey as smoothly as possible. One of my new bus-friends came and found me and insisted I join him and shared his life story before proceeding to try and get a little sleep on the ferry.

As tired as I was, sleeping wasn’t an option for me. I closed my eyes at one point and that was a terrible decision. It just seemed to heighten my senses and awareness that we were on the water and bobbing along – terrible!

Eventually we were back in England and back on the coach but the rest of the journey was horrible. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was going to be sick. Ferry travel had not agreed with me at all and a claustrophobic-feeling coach wasn’t helping either.

I’d hoped to try and sleep it off but this was typically a much livelier bus on this occasion. We’d picked up a few youngsters in a dodgy-looking part of Brussels who were perfectly friendly but meant there was a lot more chatter on the way home. Nobody, myself included, seemed to kick up any fuss about the noise and ordinarily I don’t think I’d have cared at all but I felt so awful that it just added to my misery.

We got back as far as London and it just seemed to take an age to get to Victoria. I’d got this far without feeling sick, don’t be sick now! Fortunately I wasn’t, I held out but it seemed like the second we got to Victoria and got off the bus I then let it all out.

I’d booked an overnight coach for a multitude of reasons but one last reason I’d booked a Thursday evening coach was that I wouldn’t have to take Friday off work. I felt so awful though that I ended up texting my boss and asking for another day of holiday – a waste but I just couldn’t face going in to work after such a torrid journey home.

and that was that. This post went on much longer than I thought it would do but how could it not? If you made it this far, well done! I appreciate it was quite football-heavy but genuinely one of the greatest nights of my life and the fact I’d started the week in Helsinki means it probably ranks as one of the best weeks of my life.

A post on Helsinki and part two of that Köln trip will come soon but next up? A roadtrip to Madrid for a Champions League final – featuring Spurs!!

Stay tuned!

Jason

Köln – March 2019!

Where do I even start with this one, right? Every travel story in a post-Covid era offers some hindsight and a fresh perspective but let’s be abundantly clear, it’s inconceivable that I sit here writing about Köln again!

Long time readers and followers will know that myself and Köln have a long history, a patterned history if you will although I’ll get to that shortly.

I’ll try and summarise this first section the best I can as its a frequently told story but the next chapter needs some context

Cologne – March 2013
The travel bug hit. 2013 was the year where travel became less of a dream and more of a priority. I spent two weeks in the February out in Sydney, Australia and I was hooked.

I came home, not with bundles of money, but with another payday on the horizon I was itching for more travel. It was quite a last minute thought but Easter weekend at the end of March stuck out – perfect!

I looked at various options but booking last minute travel for Easter weekend was tricky, flight prices inevitably high before I pondered a train journey. A few places in Western Europe sprung to mind but something drew me to a city I knew nothing about and a country I wasn’t all that fascinated with if I’m being honest – Cologne, Germany.

I’d traveled a bit through my childhood but as a shy and quiet individual my travel experiences were somewhat Westernised if you will. I’d been to Florida four times on family holidays, Australia (obviously), Spain (supervised school trip), France (supervised day trips with the parents), Scotland, Wales, various spots around England and Ibiza (as good as English-speaking in the summertime).

So I don’t want to say I didn’t like Cologne. You step outside of its train station and it’s hard to be anything other than mesmerised by the incredible cathedral towering over the city. I liked a lot about Cologne but as daft as it sounds, I think it was the first time that I’d really been abroad

That’s not me downplaying how fortunate I was to have traveled as often as I did growing up but just an observation of the places I’d been to date or the people that had accompanied / supervised / taken leadership of the trips I’d taken.

I struggled to warm to Cologne and deep down I think it’s just because I was a bit of a shit traveler. Getting from A to B means you’ve traveled but I was really out of my comfort zone for the first time. I couldn’t speak more than a couple of words of German, I was traveling on my own, didn’t know anybody, have an introverted personality and didn’t find the Germans to be particularly hospitable, there was no life to my hostel, all the restaurants had funny food and I could go on and on. I couldn’t even work out how to open the door in to my hostel dorm – over an entire weekend!

All that said, I’d enjoyed Cologne enough of course. It appeased my desire to see the world, see different places but come the end of the weekend I was ready to go home. For all of the things I’d liked about Cologne, I’d felt isolated at times and all the pizza in the world (that’s a German delicacy, right?) couldn’t fix that feeling that Cologne just wasn’t my kind of place. It wasn’t somewhere I saw myself returning to.

Köln – March 2016
So of course, three years later I did just that. This time however I was visiting Köln, not the English-known Cologne I’d once visited.

I still stand by the fact that I’d had a nice time on my previous visit but it’s almost as if I’d just floated through Köln the first time around. Had I really enjoyed it? Where was the joy in that trip? I’d seen some things, the cathedral for one that never fails to blow me away, but I don’t know that it was ever really a happy trip – I probably said it was at the time but I’d gone home content knowing that I was going home. I don’t know that I really left with too many positive memories.

So I think this trip had a touch of redemption about it. Maybe I hadn’t actually given Köln a fair crack, I was three years on and whilst still trying to rid myself of some habits (“Weetabix boy“), I was a much better traveler by this point. Infact I could even speak German to a relatively decent level on what was now my 5th trip to the country.

I was back in Köln for football. My beloved Spurs had been dealt a “once in a lifetime” draw with none other than Borussia Dortmund – Spurs were going to play in front of that famous yellow wall of European football.

Staying in Dortmund itself had no appeal to me so I decided I’d base myself in Köln for the trip. A chance to return to the city, a city I could explore more of and a city I could see with fresh eyes.

Being able to speak German was transformational. I’d spoken more German within the first hour than I had on the entirety of my first trip. The unhospitable Germans I’d encountered three years earlier seemed friendlier and more engaging with someone actually making an effort to speak the language.

Additionally being a football trip meant I had friends along for the ride and that also helped improve the experience I had on this trip. It was a much more positive experience of Köln and somewhere I was pleased to return to.

That said, Köln isn’t particularly big so two trips to the city felt like plenty.

Köln – October 2016
“and Tottenham will play Bayer Leverkusen..”

I had a vague idea of where Leverkusen was but where in Germany is it exactly? Of course, Leverkusen is a tiny city that borders Köln.

It made no logical sense – geographically or financially – to stay anywhere other than Köln. To do so would have been out of spite and nothing else, although I’ll admit I was still tempted. I can’t stress how disappointing it was for the next European away trip to be in sodding West Germany, now to be my third trip to the region and my sixth trip to Germany in the space of three years. I just wanted anywhere else if I’m being honest.

Nevertheless, I went and enjoyed myself. Köln served itself as a good base to explore other towns and places in the area. I even popped over to Belgium for a day out in Liege.

It wasn’t ideal but I made the best of it. Three trips to Köln, two for football. That is me done!

~~Köln~~ Bremen – November 2017
No! Seriously, are you taking the piss?

“Tottenham have been drawn against Borussia Dortmund!”

That once in a lifetime trip? A third European tie in West Germany in barely 18 months? Come on.. There’s a whole sodding continent here! I won’t get in to the complexities of football because there is some method to the madness with context but I couldn’t believe my luck.

Having by this point spent a day in Dortmund I had even less desire to stay there this time, there was no way in hell I was going to Köln for a third time in such a short turnaround so it was spite this time. I ended up splitting my time between Bremen and Dusseldorf.

“Anywhere but Köln” – I’m sorry, I’d actually grown to love Köln by this point but no, one trip too many!

The USA – 2018
“erm.. Jason?”

I know, I know but stick with me because this is an essential part of the story. As I mentioned in my last post on Warsaw, all of my 2018 annual leave was sucked up in to spending a month in the USA and one consequence of that was sacrificing a year without a football European trip. A small price to pay for such an incredible 30 days in the USA but a price nonetheless.

Having been to West Germany, West Germany, Madrid and West Germany on my previous four football adventures I can’t describe how agonising it was to see Tottenham’s European adventures unfold in 2018.

Turin, Milan, Eindhoven, Barcelona.. why do you tempt me so? I’d lie if I said I hadn’t wanted to skip work to go to Barcelona but unfortunately the professionalism kicked in.

“Nice suntan Jason.. I saw you on the TV last night by the way, you’re fired!”

It was a year of pain, one that I more than made up for but pain! I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see Spurs in the Nou Camp again, that’s the 4th time for one reason or another I’ve not been to watch Spurs in the San Siro too. Two iconic footballing stadiums and I’m stuck having to work because I had no time left to take off work – it was gut-wrenching watching Spurs fans deliriously celebrating a 1-1 draw in Barcelona.

The one comfort I told myself was that I’d make up for it. No matter what, I’m going to the first European away trip of 2019.

Köln – March 2019
and here we are.. I’d say you couldn’t script it but you could. I wrote about it in this very post at the end of 2018 – European uncertainty

Such is the cruel way of the football gods, Tottenham were somehow taking their third “once in a lifetime” trip to Dortmund in three years. Dortmund – again! Fucking hell..

Maybe I’m doing Dortmund a disservice but were it not for its football team, I’m not sure anyone would know of its existence, I’m not sure anyone would visit. The stadium is phenomenal, their fans are phenomenal but one trip was plenty. Two trips.. alright, fine but three in three years? I was dreaming of Porto and was rewarded with another trip to fucking Dortmund!

Such were the frequent visits I’d now been to Köln (three times!), Dortmund (twice!), Leverkusen, Mainz, Bremen, Dusseldorf, Bonn, Bruhl, Koblenz, Luxembourg, Gent, Liege..

Those were just on football-specific visits too. I’d been to Belgium a few times, I’d been to the Netherlands, I’d been to countless other cities in Germany on other visits. I was running out of places in the region to even visit.

but “no matter what..”

I knew my days were numbered. Life priorities were changing, it was only a matter of time before I would pack in the football and I write this today no longer a season-ticket holder of Spurs. I haven’t fully given it up but I’ve severely cut down.

Ironically I knew big change was coming in 2020 and this particular season would quite possibly offer me my last European away day (HA!). I didn’t really want to go back to Dortmund again but I also wasn’t confident enough that Spurs would progress. It was a 50-50 tie as far as I was concerned and it might be Dortmund or nothing. Do I gamble that Tottenham reach the next round (HA!) or do I just go to Germany.. again..

I couldn’t risk it. Spoiler – Spurs did go through but their next European tie was up in Manchester which would have been the only location more anti-climatic than going to Dortmund for the thousandth time. I like Manchester, I like it a lot actually but what a shitty European away trip that would have been in replacement of Dortmund.

Reluctantly committed, where do I go? I’ve now been to Dortmund twice, I’m even less inclined to stay there this time. What about Köln? It seemed like a genuine possibility this time around.

What eventually swung the decision was the timing. Bizarrely I’d been to Köln in March 2013, March 2016 and now March 2019 but the two previous trips had somehow escaped one of the big events in the calendar year – the Kölner Karneval – Cologne’s famous carnival.

Tottenham happened to be playing in Dortmund on the Tuesday night, with ‘RosenMontag’ the day prior – arguably the highlight of the karneval. The fact the two events overlapped meant that Köln was a no-brainer and by some bizarre coincidence I’d been to the city every third March! I joked that this was now a tradition and that I could seemingly predict where I’d be again in three years time!

Alas, I regret to report I have no plans to visit Köln next month so this long-standing unintentional pattern has reached a natural conclusion. However I digress.. back to 2019!

Having been reluctant to visit for a second time, a third time and then initially for a fourth time, I quickly discovered my excitement for this particular trip. I don’t think you ever really plan to visit somewhere so many times but I had grown to love Köln by this point. Infact were the circumstances better, I wouldn’t be opposed to going back to Köln next month just because it’d be quite funny. I do actually quite like the city and there’s a part of me that would love nothing more than to stroll along the Rhein right now.

I flew out to Köln early on Monday morning and was soon landing in what was a very familiar airport and city. Less familiar was the waves of fancy-dressed folks sat on the train when I boarded at the airport – all heading for Köln Hauptbahnhof! I felt vastly underdressed for the occasion with my standard hoodie and jeans. Köln was firmly in karneval mood!

The majority of people got off at the main station and soon streamed out towards the cathedral – a great gathering place and meeting point for the days festivities. Inevitably it’s the busiest I’ve ever seen Köln, so many of the streets around the area were completely cordoned off too which made it a bit of a nightmare to get around.

I ended up finding myself a nice spot to sit and watch the imminent parade with various floats and performers here to entertain. It was nice to see this side of Köln and also see what all the fuss was about. Everyone was in great spirits!

KolnKarneval — Karneval vibes – Köln, March 2019

KarnevalParade — Kölner Karneval – March 2019

I soon dragged myself away, hoping to search for somewhere a little bit quieter to find myself some lunch before popping off to my hotel. Unsurprising a lot of places were busy but I soon found somewhere suitable for some good food.

The one thing about visiting somewhere so many times is that there wasn’t really anything I needed or particularly even wanted to do. I was in Köln for nothing more than the football, I was perfectly content with this being a relatively relaxed break. I checked in to my hotel and proceeded to take a nap!

I popped back out in search of somewhere to enjoy the evening. Germany and beer go hand-in-hand so many of the city’s day-trippers had undoubtedly spent all day drinking but I was happy to just go and have a few beers without indulging in some crazy night. I didn’t want to just write off my Tuesday.

After a nice but far-from-wild night, I called it and strolled back to my hotel. The next morning I was up bright and early. We weren’t playing in Dortmund until later in the evening so I still had a bit of time to make the most of my stay in Köln.

I decided I’d go and visit a part of town I’d not yet been to, a neighbourhood called Ehrenfeld which is known for its street art. Again this was another perk of having visited the city so many times and it allowed me an opportunity to get to parts of the city you likely don’t see on a quick visit.

I made the long walk over to Ehrenfeld and stopped off at this little cafe for some crepes. From there it was time to hunt down this supposed street art I’d seen little of thus far.

Close to Ehrenfeld’s S-bahn station was a decent scattering of murals and street art lined up along a number of walls. The train at the station and ‘captain Ehrenfeld’ being two of my favourites I spotted.

The rest of the area seemed to have a bunch of independent shops, cafes and restaurants so it was a nice part of town to have discovered and worth maybe taking half a day to explore if you’re ever in Köln – particularly if like myself you’ve been before.

I ventured back to the centre of the city, thinking I’d grab some lunch before catching the train to Dortmund but Köln seemed well and truly closed for business. I don’t know if this Tuesday is considered a local holiday – intentional or otherwise but it was a struggle finding a restaurant open for lunch. The exploits of ‘RosenMontag’ meant that Köln was effectively a ghost town – a day written off for hangover recovery.

Reluctantly I accepted defeat and ended up popping over to the Hard Rock Cafe – seemingly unaffected by the shenanigans of the day before. In my best German I asked the barman where everyone was, why nowhere seemed to be open and I got a one word response – “Karneval” accompanied with a laugh.

Say no more. On Monday I had never seen the city as busy as this, on Tuesday I’d never seen Köln so quiet. It was quite eerie – the type of scene you see in horror and zombie movies but a much simpler explanation on this occasion – “Karneval!”

The rest of the day was reserved for the football. Spurs back in Dortmund again. A comfortable evening – Spurs cruised through to the next round and the daunting Manchester City awaited.

I’d ticked off what would surely be my last European football trip for some time, perhaps ever? (If you know, you know!).

This particular trip wasn’t quite over though. I’d booked four days off of work, too many to spend solely in Köln so I decided I’d split the trip and visit somewhere else for a couple of nights.

I flew out to Köln with the belief I’d be heading onwards to Frankfurt but this voice was nagging away at me and I had a change of heart whilst in Köln. The day before I cancelled my hotel in Frankfurt and booked accommodation somewhere else.

On Wednesday morning I popped to Köln’s Hauptbahnhof and booked myself train tickets for my next stop on this trip. Where?

Well, I’ll leave you to stew on that until next time!

Stay tuned!

Jason

Time for some travel..

Hello dear readers, how are things?

I’m sure many of you can relate but I haven’t really had the motivation for blogging for much of this year. What good is a travel blog if you’re not traveling? Credit to those of you who’ve consistently put stuff out to your audience but I just haven’t been that interested in writing.

Travel has been very limited this year for a number of reasons so I’ve spent the majority of 2021 at home in Peterborough.

As most of you will know, I’m a Londoner at heart. I was born in North London and it’s the city that will always be home to me. That said, I’ve really grown to love Peterborough and that’s probably never been truer than right now.

Living in the US for a couple of months last year certainly helped, as did a pandemic which has really made me embrace all things local. As the country has began relaxing restrictions and opening up, I’ve made a real effort to find things to do locally. If I could find things to do in a tiny town such as Moses Lake for two months, surely there’s plenty happening in Peterborough that I’ve been missing out on?

So those of you following on Instagram will see I’ve been pretty busy in and around Peterborough. Nevertheless, I’ve been itching for some ‘real’ adventure. I did have a few days booked down at the coast in June and then a handful of days beforehand the hotel cancelled, advising that they wouldn’t be open, which completely scuppered my hopes of visiting the coast – I couldn’t be bothered re-planning things so settled on a day trip to Bury St Edmunds (surprisingly nice) so that my day off wasn’t completely wasted.

Having got my second vaccine dose at the end of July, I’ve been holding off as long as possible making plans for the second half of the year but I’ve finally settled on what I’m going to do with my time off.

September

The original plan was to get married in Washington State this month, so I had four weeks booked off of work. That obviously isn’t happening, we’ve postponed to April (fingers crossed), so I was left with all of this time off and nothing to do with it.

I was hoping that I could hold off nearer the time and perhaps get out to Washington anyway, just without the big celebration. As it is, the border remains what feels like indefinitely closed. 18 months later there’s still no sign of the US opening its border, whilst Americans fly off to anywhere in the world (space included!). It’s quite frustrating haha. On the plus side, it did allow Haleigh to finally come this way and spend ten days in England in August after 16 months apart!

Anyway, back to the travels.. I’ve held off and held off and held off but the US isn’t happening. I cancelled a week of my holiday but with three weeks off this month I was still determined to go somewhere – anywhere!

I’ve looked at a number of options and finally settled on a first trip to Ireland. I’m off to Dublin and Cork this week – flying out tomorrow! I’m excited to finally be getting on a plane and going somewhere outside of the country.

I might yet go elsewhere in September but I haven’t planned that far ahead. I might just enjoy a few day trips in England instead – watch this space I suppose?

However, Ireland for the first time! It’s surprisingly a country I’ve yet to visit. If you have any recommendations for Dublin, Cork or suitable daytrips from either – let me know?

November

I also have some time off in November and it’s keep your fingers crossed time. Will the US open their borders? I’d like to think yes but then half of the country can’t be bothered to go and get vaccinated so who knows? The situation is by no means perfect in the UK of course but there’s at least some assurance that the vast majority have been vaccinated here.

I’m hoping that I’ll get to Washington for Thanksgiving but I was saying the same thing a year ago and settled on a trip to Gibraltar in the October instead.

Plan B this time around is Slovenia. After stepping away from football I’ve already been sucked back in. Admittedly I did actually give up the season ticket, a painful decision but the right one. Nevertheless another season of European football has its hold over me.

With Tottenham’s participation in the Europa Conference League confirmed, I was hoping for an adventure to some of the more obscure parts of the continent. Tottenham were drawn with Rennes (France), Vitesse (Netherlands) and NS Mura (Slovenia) last week.

Slovenia seemed the most attractive of those so I was hoping it’d overlap with my time off in September. As it was, we’re off to Rennes in September, which didn’t have quite the same appeal to it but.. the Slovenia date lines up with Thanksgiving which I already had booked off work anyway.

So Thanksgiving 2021 will be spent in either Washington State or Slovenia dependent on what happens with the US border (and UK restrictions of course).

I really want to say it’ll be Washington but we’re inching ever closer to November and it doesn’t feel like much time before then if the US are going to open up. With Canada opening up this week, my hope is the US will soon follow suit but I guess we’ll wait and see.

Anyway, that’s what I’m up to. If you want to keep tabs on what I’m up to in Ireland, Instagram will probably see it first but I’ll be back with photos and thoughts on the blog in the near future (hopefully).

Hope you’re all doing well!

Until next time!

Jason

Thanks for the memories Spurs but it’s a goodbye from me..

Count yourself lucky maybe. It’s no secret that I’m a big, big Tottenham Hotspur supporter but it isn’t often I specifically post about football on here. Today’s the exception.

My rants on football elsewhere are “legendary” of course. Myspace, Facebook, Tumblr and other platforms over the years have seen many a tirade at the expense of football or Tottenham Hotspur – let’s be honest, it’s usually both!

Football is so, so important to me. I reject any claim that it is only a game. Football and Spurs in particular are such a big part of who I am, I can’t overstate just how significant an impact that football has had on my life.

I’ve always been quiet and reserved. As a kid I was very much a shy individual who never felt like he really fit in anywhere and some of those insecurities still remain as an adult. I’m much less shy than I was as a child but I’m still introverted and I still question where I fit in. What relevance or importance does my life really have? Do I matter? Do people really care or is it closer to pity?

FYI – no need to panic here, I’ve got quite good at reassuring myself of my presence in the world when I have those doubts but it’s just a small insight in to the person behind the post / blog.

As someone who considered himself an outsider or a misfit, football became an environment where I felt comfortable and found some sort of belonging. I discovered a world and a community in which the most important thing was your love for the game.

That’s not to say football is entirely inclusive and without discrimination but to me it always felt like people cared less about who you were and more for “who” you were. The moment of truth.. “who do you support?”

“Tottenham”

“Ugh.. why? They’re shit!”

As a North Londoner it was a no brainer. Additionally with a Spurs supporting dad it was a no brainer. That was my club, it was in my blood. I couldn’t understand it when I moved to Peterborough why so many people claimed to support teams they had no connection to.

I immersed myself in to all things football growing up. From playing football on the tennis courts to swapping football stickers in the playground, I was obsessed with every aspect of the game.

That passion has evolved countless times over the years and football has undoubtedly been one of the biggest influences on my life. It has strengthened bonds and relationships, it has helped me make and maintain friendships and I’ve watched football in more than ten countries now.

The reality is that if you have any interest in football, we’re much more likely to get along because it’s something I’m comfortable talking about. It’s my easy “small talk” go-to. Travel of course would be another but it doesn’t quite match up to what football has given me.

Some of the highs (and lows) I’ve experienced because of football are unrivaled and I’m not sure I could ever replicate those euphoric moments where it just switches in a second. That night in Amsterdam is one that will live with me forever and there are no words that could ever do it justice.

AmsterdamSpurs — Amsterdam, May 8th 2019

So it’s painfully heartbreaking to say, I’m done.

I knew there would come a day where I’d end up packing it in but not like this! Events in the last 24 hours have seriously tested any ties I have left with Tottenham. The club have put me through every emotion over my 32 years on this planet from the most incredible highs to the most gutwrenching lows. I’ve been embarrassed and angry more times than I care to remember but I’ve never been this angry, I’ve never been this embarrassed to be associated with this football club.

Late last night Tottenham announced themselves as founding members of a new “European Super League”. Proudly declaring themselves as footballing royalty! One of the 15 super clubs of Europe who’ll sit perched at the top of the game for eternity.

A competition exclusive to the self-proclaimed best of the best – qualifying on name and reputation alone, opposed to any sporting merit.

It’s disgusting, disgraceful, arrogant, selfish, elitist, self-serving, plus a million other terms I could use and so out of touch with football supporters in this country. So disrespectful to 150 years of football and history in this country.

Self-proclaimed “super-club” – are you taking the fucking piss!?

Twelve football clubs among the tens of thousands playing across the entirety of Europe have decided that they have the divine right to be at the top of the pyramid and have put every measure in place to ensure they remain there. Twelve football clubs!

Let’s completely overlook the existing disparity in the game that already makes it a monopoly in favour of these arrogant football clubs, they want to widen that gap without any consideration to sporting achievements and what happens on the pitch?

The arrogance is astounding and this includes MY football club? Anger doesn’t go far enough. I didn’t sleep last night. I can’t fathom how anyone can lack the empathy for anyone else in football (or society for that matter). It’s so incredibly self-serving and selfish! This is what’s best for Tottenham Hotspur, to hell with the rest!

For what it’s worth, I don’t think these plans will actually materialise. There will be so much opposition from footballing authorities, football fans, individuals within the game and the government that I truly believe it will fall flat on its face but the intent is damning enough. The intent to fuck over the rest of football and the countless communities that rely so heavily on their local football club – wow, hang your head in shame Spurs..

I’ve suffered a lot of the greed in football over the last 15-20 years but this is just one step too far. It defies everything I believe in and I genuinely struggled sleeping last night as I pondered over and over about exactly how despicable and disgraceful this is.

The romance of the game is that anyone, theoretically, has the opportunity to compete and succeed. Realistically that isn’t actually accurate and there is a disparity between the biggest football clubs and those further down the pyramid but theoretically, if you overcome those stumbling blocks you reap the rewards. Ultimately there’s an integrity to the sport that your success is defined by what you do out on the pitch and you earn your place.

Proposals for that to change to monopolise the game in favour of the self-proclaimed royalty of football is something I just can’t accept. It’s immoral, it’s selfish and for the umpteenth time I’m just so angry and incredibly embarrassed to hold any association with Spurs right now.

I can’t picture my life without football but it’s time for me relinquish the season ticket and bow out. I refuse to support a club that has no care for anyone but themselves. Football without its fans and communities is NOTHING.

My sincere hope is these football clubs are sufficiently punished and humbled. Additionally I hope these owners are run out of football.

I’m so thankful for the memories I’ve had following Spurs but, for the short-term at least, it’s a goodbye from me!

A sincerely heartbroken and lifelong Tottenham supporter,

Jason

P.S – it’ll be back to travel next time on the blog

The big 3-0: Day four – Why I visited Minneapolis!

I said in my last post that it would soon become clear why I came to Minneapolis because, let’s be honest, it was the city on this trip that raised most eyebrows.

“You’re going where?”
“What is there to do in Minneapolis?”
“You should go to X instead..”

For those just joining this story, this was day four of a 30 day trip in the USA in the summer of 2018. My friends were getting married in Washington State, had invited me and it just so happened to coincide within days of my 30th birthday.

I was going to this wedding no matter what, which meant in all likelihood I was spending my 30th in the USA and it was my 30th. If I was doing a big birthday abroad, I was going to do it properly, I was going to make it a big one!

The planning for such a big trip is a huge amount of fun. I’m very fortunate to have friends dotted all over the States so pretty much nowhere was off limits when this idea first came to fruition. The only MUST-VISIT states were Washington (obviously) and given it was intended to be my first trip to the West Coast I was also adamant I would be visiting San Francisco. I’ve always loved the idea of visiting Portland too but logistically it just made sense that I’d visit Portland if I was going from Seattle to San Francisco.

So those three cities were on any and every itinerary that popped up. The rest of the trip was completely flexible and I reckon pretty much every state was considered at some point, plus parts of Canada and maybe even Mexico.

Ironically days three and four were the last piece of the jigsaw for this trip. I’d planned everything else but had these last two days spare that left me with a number of options. I’d decided to kick off my trip in Chicago and knew that my next intended destination was New Orleans, how I got from A to B was completely up to me. Flying, taking a Greyhound bus or the Amtrak train system all seemed viable options.

A few days after I’d finally committed to going to Chicago my beloved Tottenham released an announcement. In truth it was one I’d been anticipating but I eventually reached a point where I was of the mindset that Spurs couldn’t dictate this trip. I’d given up waiting on the likelihood that Tottenham would be touring the USA this summer and just decided to go ahead and get things booked and cement my plans properly.

Chicago was booked, likewise New Orleans and the West coast but I left these final two days empty for now. If it was workable maybe I could squeeze Tottenham in to the itinerary and then the announcement came.

SpursUSA — Tottenham playing in the USA, July 2018

I was flying to Chicago on day one on July 28th. Tottenham were playing in San Diego on the 25th of July – no good, Tottenham were playing in Los Angeles on the 28th – no good, however Tottenham were also playing in Minneapolis on the 31st.

Minneapolis? I’d already considered it but not seriously. It was originally just a “near Chicago..” option but now it was a serious option. Do I do it? That’s almost too perfect isn’t it?

The location was convenient, the days were spare and one of my big big frustrations of 2018 was that because of this trip I’d sacrificed a Tottenham away day in Europe.

I say sacrifice loosely of course, I can’t pretend to be hard done by in ‘only’ getting a 30 day trip in America but I’d done a European away trip every year since 2015 and got an itch for them. It definitely hurt seeing my fellow fans flying out to Barcelona this year and it took every bit of professionalism I had to not pull a sickie and fly out to Spain to join them haha.

Whilst not Barcelona, perhaps Tottenham in Minneapolis would substitute that feeling of missing out on a European away day. After contemplating all of the pros and cons I decided I was doing it. That was the itinerary complete, I was off to Minneapolis of all places to appease my need for football 24/7.

So on we go to day four! Those of you following along will know I’d warmed to Minneapolis pretty quickly. There was just something about it that clicked for me, however today was why I was really here.

The evening was obviously about the football itself but the rest of the day I had free to do whatever. Initially my friend Kayla, who I’d encouraged to come to the football with me, was supposed to be in town too but she’d had to leave early the day before. Had Kayla still been in town the day would likely have taken a very different direction but as she wasn’t, I was left to dictate my own plans.

One place we’d both been in agreement to visit was Minneapolis’ sculpture garden and there was good reason to visit today. However first I needed breakfast. I’d enjoyed breakfast at my hotel the morning before so decided to repeat the experience and have pancakes and tea once again.

I passed a couple of fellow Spurs fans on the way to the table with one proceeding to say ‘COYS’ in my direction. It didn’t register at all, I must have heard it to some degree but I didn’t realise it was intended for me, nor really acknowledge what he meant. It was only once I’d sat down that it hit me – COYS..

It was a friendly greeting from “one of my own”, a fellow Spurs fan acknowledging my colours and gearing up for gameday.
Come On You Spurs, COYS! This is one of those acronyms or hashtags that is commonly seen online, I use it myself in fact but I guess this was the first noticeable cultural difference between football fans across borders.

I do understand that many Americans, and indeed overseas supporters, rarely get to see or experience watching their team live and online interaction is perhaps even their only interaction with fellow fans but I’ve NEVER actually heard COYS spoken or chanted out loud.

Let me just add, English football fans are generally pretty snobbish about how you support your team but I have to be honest, I cringed a little bit. I felt a bit bad that I’d completely snubbed the greeting but only because it was so foreign to me in that instance. By the time I’d sat down it felt a little too late to go back and make amends.

I’d love to say ‘COYS’ was a one off moment but it wasn’t, I continued to hear it throughout the day and I just had to try and bite my tongue. It’s harmless really but it just sounds so weird and un-natural and also had me wondering if American Liverpool fans walk around saying YNWA (You’ll Never Walk Alone) to each-other? Can someone please confirm they don’t? Sorry to my friends across the pond but they’re acronyms, please stop!

I was a little tickled by it too of course, it is ultimately a small cultural difference and didn’t detract from the excitement that was building in the city. I finished off my breakfast and swiftly moved on.

I had a little wander through downtown and was admiring more of the architecture in the city along Minneapolis’ quiet streets. It’s a “big city” unlike many of the other big cities in the USA that I’ve been to and perhaps that was also one of the things that attracted me to it, there’s definitely a charm about Minneapolis.

I continued snapping away photos before eventually arriving at Minneapolis’ sculpture garden. The sculpture garden is something you should make time to visit if you’re in Minneapolis. It’s a nice attraction, it’s free to walk around plus it has some good views of the city in the background.

It was somewhere I would have visited regardless but it just so happened that today, in build up to the main event, that there was a planned photoshoot in the gardens with the King of North London making an appearance.

The photoshoot wasn’t until midday so I’d timed my visit a little badly and perhaps should have done something else before going to the sculpture garden. Whilst it is worth a visit, it’s also quick to look around so I found myself with a bit of time to kill. There’s a nearby museum but for some reason it didn’t seem to be open yet.

I looked for somewhere to sit down with a cup of tea but there didn’t seem to be much in the immediate vicinity, in the end I settled for getting a pot of tea in the museum cafe across the road from the sculpture garden.

Spurs in Minneapolis — A sign of things to come. Spurs fans congregating with the cockerel

The crowds were slowly beginning to build with Spurs shirts and colours everywhere you looked. In all honesty I always find it a little surreal to see the global appeal in English football, particularly for the likes of Spurs.

I don’t want to get too sidetracked but one of the things I found weirdest when I first moved from London to Peterborough was the lack of pride in supporting a team you had a genuine connection to. My roots were that of a North London boy who supported a team in North London, playing a mile down the road from the hospital I was born in.

I moved to Peterborough and nobody supported, or not visibly at least, the local team. Nobody even supported the less successful bigger football clubs in England. Everybody was an Arsenal, Liverpool or Manchester United fan. I was the outsider supporting a frankly rubbish Tottenham team and continually teased for it during my school years.

Ironically I think Tottenham’s worst football period probably coincides with those school years. I spent 1992-2004 in school and I don’t think you could pick a worse twelve years to have had to endure watching Spurs.

Whilst Spurs fortunes haven’t greatly changed, I don’t half envy the kids who get to go to school and are teased about Spurs losing Champions League finals or finishing 2nd in the Premier League.

Okay, so I did get sidetracked but you need a little context because here I was in Minneapolis, Minnesota on a Tuesday morning surrounded by proud American Tottenham fans – it blows my mind. I was the outcast growing up but my love for Spurs never wavered. Years later Spurs are a fashionable global brand? (ugh, speaking of cringing).. it’s bonkers!

SpursMinneapolis — Spurs fans beginning to take over Minneapolis

Yet this was the reality. I might be a million miles away from home, a million miles away from Tottenham but there were fans EVERYWHERE. The atmosphere was building, the excitement was building and by the time we reached midday there must have been a couple of hundred Spurs fans mingling in Minneapolis’ sculpture garden ready for the big photo.

MinneapolisSpurs — The best view of Minneapolis!

The result was pretty cool. I stole the above photo from the Minneapolis supporters club but look! I’m sure my friend over at The Travel Architect (and her husband) will agree that Minneapolis has never looked so beautiful! What better sight than a city full of Tottenham fans with that skyline as the backdrop?

In addition to the photo, one of the big draws was of course the company of the King. Our former player and captain, Ledley King, was also in Minneapolis which gave me a rare opportunity to meet him and I couldn’t resist the chance to grab a photo – just two North London boys on tour in Minneapolis.

Ledley King Minneapolis — Stood with the king of North London, Ledley King!

Following on from the fun at the sculpture garden the crowds quickly dispersed in various directions which left me pondering what to do for the rest of the day. On the one hand, there was still more of Minneapolis for me to try and enjoy. On the other hand, I knew that the Austin (Texas) supporters club had organised an afternoon-long bar crawl and that had its own temptation.

I knew this was happening before the trip but with Kayla’s company it wasn’t something that was on the agenda. Without it, well, that was another matter. I was torn (lies!) but I opted for the more sociable option – don’t judge me!

The first bar on the itinerary was aptly named the Brits Pub in downtown Minneapolis. By the time I walked in it was already pretty busy with limited seating options. I was a little surprised that it wasn’t just Spurs fans, it was a good mix between ‘us’ and the rest of the locals just enjoying a spot of lunch.

I found myself sat at the bar next to some guy who’d flown in from Ohio. That was the interesting thing about this whole day. It’s perhaps not the easiest, nor cheapest, to fly out to London for a game so many had flown in from all over the US for a rare opportunity to see Tottenham in the flesh. I had a good chat with my new friend before we were accompanied by a woman, closer to my age, who’d flown up from California!

We talked all things football before me and my new friend from Ohio wandered over to bar number two, our Californian seemed content where she was for the timebeing so we said our goodbyes.

I couldn’t tell you what bar number two was, it wasn’t particularly easy getting served quickly, nor was it a bar that was particularly memorable so wasn’t somewhere I’d intended returning to. By the time we’d successfully ordered a beer, some were already moving on to bar number three so we were lagging behind a little.

My new friend however introduced me to some of his friends who’d also flown in from Ohio, seemingly a decent scattering of them having made the effort and all friendly to mingle with.

FinnegansBeer — A return to Finnegan’s in Minneapolis!

We soon moved on to our third bar of the afternoon – Finnegan’s! I’d visited, and loved, Finnegan’s the previous evening so I was quite happy to see this as one of the stops on the pub crawl. It’s a decent size for a gathering of Spurs fans and had some decent beer on tap. There was probably a better atmosphere here too as it was pretty much only Spurs fans.

After a couple of beers the Ohio’s (? I don’t know what they call themselves!) moved on to the next and final bar. I’d actually heard it was pretty small and given it was closer to the stadium I also anticipated it would be busier so I neglected to join them and decided to stay put.

We said our goodbyes and I pondered whether I should have joined them. It was risky to abandon friends whilst I had them but it was perhaps testament to the feeling and atmosphere of the day that it wasn’t a decision I would come to regret.

I sat down at the end of this wooden bench with my beer and was instantly welcomed by the rest of the group sat on the table – a bunch of youngsters mostly made up from Minnesota. They were drinking beer and playing Uno and were happy to invite me to join them.

We mingled and got to know eachother better and it was clear they were all heading to the game too, all but one anyway. One of the guys piped up and asked if Trevor had managed to obtain a ticket yet – “No..”

Well, what are the odds of that? As I explained earlier, my intention was for Kayla to join me but her early depature left me with a spare ticket. I hadn’t even bothered trying to sell it on because the game had yet to sell out so I figured finding takers was going to be a struggle, I’d accepted it would go to waste.. until now!

I quickly piped up that I had a spare and he was welcome to it if he wanted it. He enquired how much and from my perspective it was already money I’d accepted I wasn’t getting back so I suggested a price that everyone would be happy with – “buy me a beer and it’s yours!”

The reaction was a little overwhelming and unexpected. What had seemed a nothing gesture on my part, was the greatest kindness imaginable in these parts. I’d already accepted that I was out of pocket so from my own point of view I was now a beer better off than anticipated.

However from their point of view I’d helped them achieve their intention of a day out watching Spurs and I was instantly awarded somewhat of a “legendary” status and the praise came flooding in my direction.

Additionally our agreed “price” was seemingly lost in translation. “One beer” in English seemingly translates to “ALL OF THE BEER” in Minnesotan English. I don’t think my glass ever reached empty levels before Trevor was running up to the bar to buy me another despite my attempts and insistence that I buy a round.

“No Jason, you gave me the ticket 25 beers ago.. I’m still in your debt!”
“But..”
“Shh, here’s another. Let me know when you want the next one..”

Eventually we moved our fun outside where we swapped Uno for a couple of rounds of a game called ‘Cornhole’. I don’t know that it’s all that common in the UK but I’ve seen it a few times out in the US. Essentially you throw something similar to a small bean bag through a wooden plank and compete with your opponent.

I don’t know what score we were playing to, nor who was keeping track, but we seemingly ended with my winning throw and congratulations all around. I’m not sure how legitimate the victory actually was but my presence was again worshiped and after a few too many beers I was more than happy to go along with it!

It was soon time to head over to the stadium. The game was being hosted at the home of the Minnesota Vikings, the U.S Bank stadium, which is pretty close to downtown Minneapolis. It’s a quick and easy walk and it wasn’t long between us leaving Finnegans and arriving at the stadium.

Sadly it was here that the group had to split, Trevor was of course sat with me but the rest of the group had tickets elsewhere so we temporarily said our goodbyes and made our way to our seats.

Before the game, as with any American event, we stood for the national anthem. It’s always something that catches me off guard but perhaps moreso here given we were about to watch English club, Tottenham Hotspur, play the Italians AC Milan. Bizarre.

I remember little after the national anthem to be honest. Not because I was drunk (stop jumping to conclusions!) but just because we were both content in the company. From my perspective I watch Spurs all of the time anyway and a non-competitive fixture in the US had minimal appeal for me but Trevor was also only half-watching and we spent most of the game doing nothing more than chatting about football, travel and politics with yet another beer.

I do vaguely remember looking up at just the right time to catch the only goal of the game which ironically made this the second country I’ve seen Tottenham beat AC Milan in (the other bizarrely being Germany!) but the game was little more than a setting or circumstance for making new friends. I’d had a great day.

On the way out of the stadium we bumped in to the rest of the group and decided to take the evening to one final bar. I couldn’t tell you where we went as I was just following everyone else but it was this nice little, partially underground, bar somewhere downtown which had ping pong tables and a couple of other games to keep you entertained.

I was flying out of Minneapolis the next morning so didn’t have the intention of staying out too late. Fortunately that seemed to be the overall attitude amongst the rest of the group anyway with work, travel and whatever else the next day so it didn’t prove to be a particularly late night. After a few of the guys moved on I did the same, kindly thanked everyone for a wonderful night and strolled back through downtown Minneapolis.

Minneapolis City Hall — City Hall in Minneapolis

Incidentally it’s just as nice to wander through in the evening. I passed the beautiful City Hall building and grabbed a quick photo but I passed by little else. There’s a peacefulness and comfort to downtown Minneapolis that really makes it a charming city, in my eyes at least.

It might have just been the beer-goggles after a few too many beers, or may have been the continous warmth I felt from the people but I walked along smitten with the place, Minnesota had oddly captured a small piece of my heart.

I woke up the following morning and I have to say I was sad to be leaving so soon, perhaps moreso than I’d been to leave Chicago. My taxi driver didn’t help matters. On the way to the airport he was overly friendly and chatty and just added to my desire to completely overhaul my plans and stay in Minneapolis a little longer.

On reflection I really want to tell you why you have to visit Minneapolis and honestly I’m struggling. I look back to the trip or the destination as a whole, I look at what usually draws me to a city and which boxes Minneapolis ticks and the overwhelming feeling is that it comes up short and yet..

I loved it. I don’t know why. I can’t give you a logical explanation but there’s just something about Minneapolis, maybe it’s something in the water (or the beer haha!) but I just clicked with Minneapolis and I wouldn’t hesitate to return. That might not be enough for me to encourage you to visit but for all of the talk about Southern hospitality, Minnesota felt as friendly as anywhere I’ve been in the US.

Sadly, it was time to go. Up next? New Orleans!

Stay tuned!

Jason

P.S – if you want to catch up on previous posts of the trip, see below!

Day one – Chicago bound
Day two – exploring Chicago
Day three – Minneapolis

Lille – June 2018

As my last couple of blog posts indicated, my wanderlust was hitting me hard in 2018. I’d planned a huge summer trip spanning 30 days, six states, several cities but a big trip like that leaves you little wiggle room for the rest of the year.

After visiting Washington in February I had no other option to go gallivanting across the globe, I was very much restricted to weekend travel which is why I jumped at the opportunity to visit Manchester and Lincoln. I needed a travel ‘fix’ to get me by until the summer.

The most recent of those trips was Lincoln at the start of May. I came back from Lincoln and the big birthday trip at the end of July still felt so far away, call me spoilt, right? I felt like I had to squeeze in one last adventure before flying out to the USA for a month.

Unfortunately my conflicting issue was that as much as I was itching for adventure, that 30 day trip had its own drawbacks. I was trying to save money and the sensible option was to stay put. Yes, it’s a ‘long time’ to wait to go on holiday but saving my pennies had its own merits, I’d reap the benefits in the summer.

It was no good, I figured I had to compromise. I ‘needed’ a mini-getaway but I was determined to restrict myself to a daytrip. I couldn’t book accommodation so wherever I went in the UK would have to be doable in a daytrip.

I planned out various possibilities, weighing up the suitability of each destination as a day trip. How costly would it be? How flexible were the travel times? I don’t drive so was restricted to public transport, which isn’t only expensive in the UK but doesn’t always run as late as you hope it would do.

I wasn’t having too much success in finding somewhere that tempted me enough to visit. The most tempting places seemed to cost a fortune to get to on public transport and the cheaper options weren’t appealing enough for me to visit or were places I frequented often enough to not give me any real sense of adventure.

Something I did ponder was a trip on the Eurostar. They’d been peppering me with continuous adverts by email – “Hey Jason, we have a sale on right NOW..”

Would that work? Could I pop over to the continent for a day? They’re not ideal to visit in a day but I’d been itching to return to Paris or visit somewhere new in Belgium like Antwerp. Of course, one of the struggles with weekend travel on the Eurostar is its appealing to many other people too. Even if you can find one leg of the journey at the sale price, you can’t always tie it in with the other half of the journey..

Travel to Paris for only £0.04, return same day for £609.86..

I’m exaggerating obviously because it’s not that bad but it just wasn’t possible to find a cheap daytrip to places like Paris and alternatively it just felt a bit too far to go to somewhere like Amsterdam in a day. I was just about ready to give up when I thought I’d have a quick look at prices for Lille and voila!

LilleEurostar — London to Brussels, via Lille

I managed to find an early Saturday train from London to Lille and a late return train, both priced at £28. Additionally I had a £5 voucher to use which reduced my overall fare price to £53 which I thought was decent going. Some of the places / trains I’d been looking at within the UK were equally expensive, if not more so and I much preferred an excuse to flee the country for a day.

Soon enough it was June 30th and I was on my way, hoping for no delays to the Eurostar as I already had a limited amount of time to explore Lille.

Other than being somewhere in France, I can’t say I knew much about Lille prior to booking tickets but my minimal research indicated that Lille was perhaps a little more of a Flemish/Belgian city than French. My only other real experience of France had been in visiting Paris so I was intrigued to see a very different type of French city.

That Paris trip in 2016 had been in a very different climate. I found a scattering of snow and endless fog which meant I couldn’t even see half of the landmarks I’d been excited to see. I was perhaps the only person in history to have been to Paris and not to have seen the top of the Eiffel Tower, I’ve since been back and seen it in all of its glory but it’s a little underwhelming when you realise the top is hidden somewhere in the fog.

In contrast, I stepped out of Lille’s train station and the weather was beautiful. It was a perfectly sunny day to be exploring a new city. I strolled towards Lille’s city centre and kept my eyes peeled for anything eye-catching, I had nothing planned so was just winging it a little bit.

LilleChurch — Gorgeous church in sunny Lille

It wasn’t long before I stumbled upon this stunning church. It was beautiful and no less impressive on the inside either. The bonus of the weather also meant I had it largely to myself and it was surprisingly empty for a Saturday. The French and locals seemed to be making the most of the sunshine!

Having had a decent look around I moved on, passing an infinite number of shops along pedestrianised streets which were proving popular for Lille’s locals. I darted up, down and across various little streets before eventually reaching one of Lille’s main squares. The square was made up of a number of impressive buildings and pieces of architecture plus a host of outside tables with seating from the many nearby restaurants and cafes in the square.

LilleSquare — Cafe culture looking good in Lille!

Suddenly it felt a little more French. The cold weather meant I hadn’t fully experienced the French café culture in Paris that I’d imaged in my head, however it was in abundance here in Lille. Perfect for people-watching and watching the world go by, I wanted nothing more than to sit and join them. However I knew time here was limited and I wanted to see more of the city.

As I continued exploring I soon stumbled upon one of Lille’s other cathedrals. I’d seen a photo of this on Instagram, in which the Instagrammer in question called it a particularly ugly building and I disagreed. I thought its uniqueness actually looked quite nice.

LilleCathedral — Hideous cathedral in Lille

Seeing it in the flesh however completely changed my mind – it was hideous and I couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe all those editing tools such as photoshop do a great job of making it prettier on the eye when you see it online but I was unimpressed.

Although inside was absolutely stunning and I’d certainly recommend visiting. Its beauty was breathtaking and I couldn’t stop myself taking plenty of photos. It was a good reminder that you shouldn’t judge a book (or cathedral) by its cover. I’m glad I hadn’t let its ugly exterior put me off going in.

Coming back out of the cathedral I strolled down a few nearby streets hoping to find a spot to grab some lunch. As some of you will know from posts such as Weetabix Boy, I was quite a fussy eater as a child. So I’ve tried to be a little more adventurous the last few years and was keen to try a local Lille delicacy – the Potjevleesch – which I’d read about online.

I found a nice little restaurant that had it on the menu and figured I’d put it to the test. It was enjoyable enough without me needing to pretend it’s my favourite dish. I am glad I tried it and I’d have it again if I returned to Lille but I’m not sure it’ll ever be catching on elsewhere. However accompanied with a beer it was a nice lunch.

Whilst enjoying my lunch it hadn’t gone unnoticed that there was now a bit of a buzz and excitement in the air. The streets were suddenly noisier, French flags kept passing me as I looked through the window and cars were honking as they drove by. Something was happening!

LilleStreets — The beautiful streets of Lille

That something was football! I’m very much a “club football over international football” type of fan – that’s a whole other story but consequently it meant that when I was booking my tickets to Lille in May that it hadn’t really crossed my mind that a June trip would overlap with the football World Cup in 2018.

As the beginning of the World Cup approached it dawned on me and I had to take a look at the schedule, it just so happened that dependent on France’s progression in the tournament that there just might be a scenario where they’d be playing on the afternoon I was in Lille. “Could you imagine..?”

By the time the trip came around I knew that France would be playing Argentina (in Russia) whilst I was in the city and that I’d have the unique opportunity of experiencing the French supporting the French.

Now I’ll be honest here, I’ve never really credited French football with that same prestige or glamour as its European counterparts. It just doesn’t have that same history and I’ve often been quick to dismiss it as a serious footballing nation.

My point being that watching football in France has never had a huge appeal for me – I’d sooner go to Germany, Spain, Italy or even the likes of Turkey or Serbia where you might run in to more unwelcoming scenes but you at least appreciate they are football crazy in those countries!

To offer some merit to my beliefs, France’s most successful football team are Paris St Germain, who were only founded in 1970! They’re younger than my parents and yet they’re France’s most successful football club! It severely lacks the history that football has throughout the rest of the continent. English football had been played for more than 100 years at this point so as I said, I’ve always been quick to dismiss France as a “proper” footballing country.

LilleBar — The French love their football!

This trip went some way to making me stand up and take notice. After leaving the restaurant I’d had lunch at I strolled down the street and found this cosy little bar decked out in flags in preparation of the game. There was a sea of red, white and blue filling the place up and I could feel the atmosphere building.

I’d been in two minds about watching the game, because I wasn’t in the city for long, but the fans were already singing and the atmosphere drew me in. Better yet, Lille’s Flemish influences means that the city is home to some great beer so I ordered a delicious sounding beer at the bar and found myself a spot to stand and watch the game and enjoy the atmosphere.

It was a small bar so was already standing room only but as the minutes passed and we got closer to kickoff the crowd of people soon spilled over in to the streets trying to peek any glimpse of the TV. The songs kept coming and soon enough the players were walking out on to the pitch.

Shortly after La Marseillaise (France’s national anthem) was belting out of the TV and the rest of the room joined in unison. I’m sure I’ve heard the French national anthem countless times before on TV but hearing passionate French locals singing at the top of their lungs was a special moment to witness and one that will stick with me for some time. Have a listen below!

View this post on Instagram

Not a bad day to be in France 😊 France 4-3 Argentina #allezlesbleus #lesbleus #fraarg #lille #france

A post shared by Jason (@jasonlikestotravel) on Jun 30, 2018 at 9:41am PDT

The game kicked off and the noise settled a little bit, although some of the inhabitants regularly attempted to get some songs going. “Messi, Ciao, Messi, Ciao, Messi, Ciao, Ciao, Ciao..” was ringing in my head all afternoon with the locals offering an optimistic outlook that Lionel Messi and his colleagues would soon be heading home following defeat.

There was a huge part of me that wanted nothing more than to stay there all afternoon. A bit like my desire to do the same earlier this morning, there’s something about French culture that is slow. You’ve just got to sit back and enjoy the experience and what was the rush to leave this blissful little bar?

However my view of the game was actually quite minimal, trying to squeeze a glimpse between multiple backs of heads of French people wasn’t easy and I felt a little guilty that there were probably locals behind me having their view blocked by someone (me!) with no real passion for either team.

Similarly I knew my time in Lille was pretty limited and what better time to go and explore, safe in the knowledge that the majority of locals were preoccupied with the football.

The streets were certainly a bit quieter, up until I passed any bar anyway. Every one seemed to have hordes of people trying to get a glimpse of the action. I continued to stroll through the streets, not looking for anything in particular but happily wandering. Every now and then I’d hear a huge roar and a loud groan and pondered what was happening throughout the game.

As I continued to wander my eyes drifted towards this little passageway that had caught my eye and led me in to this beautiful little plaza-like place that was currently home to a book market. It was such a pretty setting and had a handful of people browsing the collection.

LilleBooks — Beautiful place to browse for books in Lille!

With time going by far too quickly, I walked through another passage which led me back to one of Lille’s main squares and I wanted to take some souvenirs home with me – a handful of postcards and I was also tempted to take a couple of local beers home with me to try (proved to be delicious!).

Having bought a few bits, I made my way over to some little park which was rather peaceful. There wasn’t really anyone around and it was a nice shaded spot to escape the sun bearing down on me. It was far away from the noise of some of the bars and showed me a small glimpse in to a different side of the city.

LillePark — Peace and quiet in the parks of Lille

Unfortunately my afternoon was disappearing far quicker than I would have liked and I had to keep one eye on the clock to ensure I made my train home.

In all honesty I wasn’t ready to leave. I’ve never had a huge fascination with France but my winter trip to Paris in 2016 had won me over a little bit. However despite the Flemish/Belgian influence, Lille felt like a France I’d always heard a fuss about but yet to actually experience. In the glorious summer sunshine this felt like the “real France” and one I’ve quickly begun to appreciate.

IMAG0826 — Lille quickly won me over. Easy to see why!

Perhaps the bonus of a football-fanatic city and good beer helped sway me but even prior to that Lille was pretty on the eye and had left an impression on me.

I slowly started drifting back towards the train station, keen to find a good dinner spot en route and it quickly became apparent who had won the football. I needn’t have seen the game to know France had won. The French were celebrating deliriously in the street and you could hear cars honking in the streets for miles. France had clearly been successful.

Bitterly it turned out to actually be probably the most exciting game of the entire tournament. France had beaten Argentina 4-3 and I’d, unforgivably, decided to give it a miss – in France of all places!

I grabbed a quick meal before saying my goodbyes with a heavy heart. It was perhaps fitting that I was leaving a happy and celebratory city behind, I’d really enjoyed Lille after all, but I also felt a little bittersweet. I didn’t want to be saying goodbye, I wanted to be staying one night at the very least.

After visiting the city myself I then read about a fellow blogger, Dylan at Shoot From The Trip, who visited Lille for a little longer and it just added to my regret that I hadn’t stayed for longer.

It was a wonderful place to visit for a daytrip and if you get the opportunity to visit I’d fully recommend it – just visit for longer if you can! It’s somewhere I’ll definitely return to.

Anyway, that wraps this one up! What’s coming up on the blog? Lots of USA content including that incredible 30 day trip! Stay tuned!

Jason

Manchester – March 2018

Despite being an Englishman with 30 odd years living in the country, England is a destination that hasn’t frequented the blog too often. I wrote about the likes of London, York, Canterbury and even Peterborough in my early blogging days but they’re generally posts I don’t look back on and enjoy reading.

I’m not suggesting they’re badly written or they’re even particularly bad posts but I look back at them and I couldn’t tell you who wrote them. Everyone has their own blogging style and I won’t knock anyone else but I quickly learned that the “5 reasons to visit Canterbury” style just wasn’t for me. It might be what people want to read but it wasn’t what I wanted to write. I had no motivation to write those sort of posts and if I’m not enjoying it, why bother, right?

So I might go back and do those cities justice at another time (I did with London) but this will be my usual ramble-y type nonsense that I don’t really know why you lot keep coming back to read.

For my American readers, not so familiar with Manchester, it holds a reputation somewhat similar to Seattle. It is supposedly the one city in England where you can always expect rain. So why would anyone visit?

ManchesterArchitecture2 — Photoshopped or actual blue skies in Manchester?

Well, like Seattle it’s also quite a fun city. Manchester is nowhere near as pretty on the eye as Seattle. It’s very much an industrial-looking city and has a history that backs that up but it stakes a claim as “England’s second city” and is probably the unofficial capital of the North.

Surprisingly Manchester wasn’t a city I’d actually spent much time in. I’d twice visited the city to watch my beloved Spurs – once at the Etihad and once at Old Trafford – two of the bigger football stadiums in the country.

I’d also briefly visited on another occasion as I was joining some Northern-based friends on holiday and we’d decided to fly from up North. However the reality is I’d not really seen anything of Manchester outside of a couple of pubs or a couple of football stadiums.

With a big summer trip planned I knew opportunities to travel in 2018 were going to be limited. So when my friend (and gig buddy), Lucy, suggested possibly going to see a band on their tour it made sense to look at what the best dates were. A weekend date seemed most suitable and as I scoured the options a Saturday night in Manchester stood out. It was near enough for Lucy in Sheffield to travel to and was a good opportunity for me to squeeze in some UK travel and spend some time in a city I wasn’t too familiar with.

So one Saturday in March I left a snowy Peterborough behind me and headed up North towards Manchester. Given the rubbish weather I wasn’t too hopeful it would be a smooth journey. It usually doesn’t take much more than a puddle on the tracks for the rail system to catastrophically break down, such is the unpredictability of UK train travel, but to my surprise I arrived in to Manchester in good time around lunchtime.

Lucy wasn’t joining me until later on in the day so I figured I’d try and get my bearings with the city. It’s a city I don’t know well at all so I left Manchester Piccadilly station with no real direction in mind. I had a bit of time to kill and if all else failed I’d revert to Google Maps so I just wandered on foot and figured I’d see where I ended up.

I wanted to head in the vague direction of my hotel but despite following signs in the city towards Deangate that didn’t seem to go particularly well. I ventured through the Northern Quarter of the city which has a number of bars, shops and other independent businesses. I vaguely recognised a Wetherspoons from a previous visit to the city but it was pretty busy (due to some game being on tv) so I decided to keep going in my search for lunch.

ManchesterTownHall — Manchester town hall

In an effort to get back on track towards my hotel, I stumbled upon Manchester’s rather impressive town hall. It’s certainly one of the standout pieces of architecture, I grabbed a few photos and then settled on a nearby pub to fill my stomach and get something to eat.

Feeling less hungry I made the relatively short walk towards my hotel (a Premier Inn). Having checked in I didn’t really see much point to doing too much else before Lucy’s arrival in the city. I chilled out for a bit and then wandered back towards Piccadilly station, now having got my bearings a little, and waited for Lucy’s train to arrive from Sheffield.

We had a quick catch up and then caught a taxi out to the venue for our gig. I was a bit surprised how ‘out of town’ the venue actually was, I figure it would have been fairly centrally located but it wasn’t really walkable – certainly if we wanted to catch the first band of the night.

Despite the rubbish location, it was quite a nice venue (Manchester Academy). It was a decent sized venue, I’m not sure if it was a sell out but it didn’t feel overcrowded either. It was pretty quick getting a beer at the bar and we also had a decent view of the bands for the evening (The Dangerous Summer being the main band we’d come to see).

After a fun evening of live music we caught a taxi back to central Manchester, Lucy caught her train back to Sheffield and I ventured in the direction of my hotel. I was tempted to go and enjoy some of Manchester’s (famous) nightlife but wasn’t particularly sure where was best to go. There was definitely a bit of a buzz in the city, given it was a Saturday night, but nowhere that drew me in to have a couple of beers. I figured a night out in Manchester could wait until another occasion and instead took the sensible option, hoping to make the most of my Sunday in the city instead.

I woke up pretty early Sunday and after checking out of my hotel decided I’d just wander initially. Oddly, the first experience of the day was partially-witnessing a mugging. I say partially because by the time I’d realised what had happened I was too late to stop it.

Some young woman was half running / half screaming at some cyclist who whizzed by me at speed. I could see she was upset so crossed the street to check if she was okay, it turned out he’d snatched her mobile phone out of her hand and rode off in to the distance. So I kicked off my Sunday morning on the phone with Manchester’s police and reporting a theft. Not the best start to the day!

By the time we’d finished with the police her boyfriend had randomly turned up (I’m assuming he must have attempted chasing after the thief but I hadn’t seen him earlier?) so I felt a little happier leaving the shook up local with a familiar face and we went our seperate ways.

I soon stumbled upon a Sunday market of some sorts. It wasn’t particularly big but locals were browsing through the few stalls on display and I had a little look of my own for anything that might catch my eye. Content I wasn’t going to buy anything I wandered towards the Northern quarter which is home to some beautiful buildings.

ManchesterArchitecture — Manchester is home to some gorgeous architecture

Nearby is also Manchester’s famous shopping ‘mall’, the Arndale, which provided the perfect location for an early lunch! Long time readers will know I’m a frequent visitor of Hard Rock Cafe’s around the world and having been to both the London (only one at the time) and Edinburgh HRC’s I was keen to complete the UK set by visiting Manchester’s too. Although they’ve annoyingly since opened a second HRC in London so I’ll have to give that one a visit at some point too.

Surprisingly, Manchester’s HRC is one of my favourites. At the very least it’s the best of the three I’ve been to in the UK. The service was to its usual good standard and the memorabilia fun to look at as always.

ManchesterHardRockCafe — Manchester’s Hard Rock Cafe

Having ticked off another HRC and appeased my hunger I visited a museum just around the corner. Manchester, surprisingly not London, is home to the National Football Museum and was a must for me.

I was going to say it’s free to visit (if you wish), however don’t quote me on that! Firstly let me tell you why I was convinced admission was free! At the time of my visit that actually was the case, free admission for all visitors! However they encouraged visitors to pay a voluntary fee which would entitle you to a couple of souvenir experiences – see below.

NationalFootballMuseum — I’ve got my hands on the Premier League and FA Cup!

Personally I decided these little extras were worthwhile to contribute towards the running of the museum but it also left a somewhat bitter taste for me given this was the national museum of the national sport – a multi billion pound industry in England. I felt it was a travesty that organisations such as the Football Association have turned a blind eye and left this museum to essentially self-fund itself. It’s a wonderful museum if you’re a football fan and something that organisations such as the above should be contributing towards.

However without such funding, it turns out, later in the year the museum introduced admission charges for anyone that wasn’t a Manchester resident. So I apologise, this is no longer a free museum. Despite the billions in English football, if you want any insight in to the history of football in this country you’ll have to dip in to your wallet (unless you’re a Manchester resident).

EnglishFootball — “Football was created here” – P.S – but we’re not supporting museums like this!

Back to my story, having made the conscious decision to contribute a fee I did still feel it was good value for my visit. There’s some great memorabilia in the museum and it’s definitely worth taking any football fanatic along to – of any age as plenty of it is interactive too.

Content I’d got my football fix for the day I went and checked out the nearby Manchester cathedral – this actually is free to visit (donations welcome obviously). It’s nowhere near the biggest cathedral I’ve visited but still has a pretty exterior and the inside was impressive too. It was definitely worth visiting.

My next stop was a somewhat unusual one. I wouldn’t ordinarily go out of my way to visit a specific pub but with the promise of a free beer I couldn’t help but tempt myself! I don’t know what the reason was but Scottish brewers ‘Brewdog’ had promised to give away 1 million pints of beer over the next few weeks and I knew that there happened to be a Brewdog in Manchester. Knowing I probably wouldn’t get another opportunity before the campaign ended I went and hunted down Manchester’s Brewdog bar for a quick and refreshing pint of their Punk IPA.

I did only have the one though! Having replenished I went back and explored Manchester for a few more hours. It’s a city that reminds me of Hamburg in some ways and for some it’s probably a comparison you’ve heard before. Neither are the prettiest on the eye, Hamburg probably moreso, but both undoubtedly have their charm and share a similar culture too. I could see why this city staked a claim to being England’s “second city”.

Before catching the train home I popped in to a pub and grabbed myself some dinner. They claimed to have award-winning pies so I couldn’t resist grabbing some pie and mash whilst catching a bit of the Manchester City game being televised.

Sadly my time in Manchester quickly came to an end. It’s definitely a city I think I could have seen more of but the 24 hours or so I had in the city definitely endeared itself to me. It’s a city I’ll hopefully return to soon and enjoy a bit of the nightlife next time too.

However with work the next day I couldn’t stick around and called an end to my staycation up North. Next up on the blog? Another quick visit to an English city: this time Lincoln!

Stay tuned!

Jason