Stoke City v Brighton and Hove Albion

Heads You Win

Stoke City 3-0 Brighton and Hove Albion (19:02:11)

Ah, the Boothen roar; terracing; Delilah; a wall of noise; a four goal thriller; Peter Beagrie; Dean Wilkins and being unceremoniously bundled into the back of a police van for "our own safety" after the match. All memories of the last time I went to Stoke City to see Brighton & Hove Albion play, at their old Victoria Ground - in 1989. I was probably overdue a re-visit and the Albion's first FA Cup Fifth Round Proper in 25 years seemed as good a reason as any to head back to The Potteries.

The only way of getting there by train 22 years (twenty-two-chuffing-years) later without paying an arm and two legs was on a magical mystery tour via Milton Keynes. Luckily, my main man Mr Cherry was on hand with a set of wheels - aka the Silver Flash. We punched ST4 4EG into the Sat-Nav and let the giggles commence. We were brimmers with excitement, because this was not only our big day out (© Tony Pulis), but also our cup final (© Tony Pulis, again). How nice of Big Tone to upgrade the day. And not a hackneyed cliche in sight, refreshing.

A twenty two year old photo, tick. Stoke City v Brighton, Victoria Ground, May 1989.

Fast forward a few years, and it's a warm welcome back to Stoke.

This is magnifient. One of the best tributes I've seen to a true legend. 5 FIFA stars.

Drinking in decent pubs around the ground was one of the options lost when City moved grounds. The Britannia does have a couple of alehouses fairly nearby, but they are either not really the places that away fans can sup in confidence, or Harvesters that are 10 deep at the bar. So for the perfect pre-match drinking experience, we pitched up at The Greyhound Inn, Penkhull, one of the Six Towns of Stoke-on-Trent. Old Speckled Hen on tap was enough to have us reminiscing back in a haze of blurry sepia-tinged nostalgia; Brighton v Stoke at the Goldstone Ground in 1990 with thousands of City fans in fancy dress anyone?

The Brit certainly wouldn't have Prince Charles purring from an architectural point of view. But to my mind, what primarily makes a ground special - aside from old skool scoreboards and hulking great Eastern European floodlights - is its supporters. Stoke City normally have a brilliantly passionate - and somewhat intimidating - support who are, according to this match ticket anyway, the LOUDEST in England. They were certainly the most vociferous we've had at Withdean until FC United rolled into town recently. They were quiet today however, but then they probably don't give two hoots about Brighton, and in fairness, if we were playing a club two divisions below us in the cup, Withdean would be pretty silent as well.

Off the top of my head I didn't recall seeing a hippopotamus strolling down Stoke High Street beforehand (I think they tend to stay in the more outlying areas like Burslem), but that hasn't stopped The Potters tenuously adopting them as their mascots. I saw the plump and bulky Mr Pottermus (in blue) and his bread knife Mrs Pottermiss (white), grazing on the grass before the match. I'm unsure as to what the groundsman makes of all this - not that Stoke use the grass too much. Boom, boom and indeed tish.

Kids love Potter(s).

Erm......no thanks. You're 'avin a scarf lads.

In the away end pints of quality draught flow Titanic White Star served in proper pint glasses for a reasonable £2 Carlsberg or Tetley's in plastic pots for £3.80 were being served up to thirsty fans. This is one thing Brighton are getting very right in their new stadium; proper local draught beers in the home end and guest ales in the away end. They've thought of pretty much everything at Falmer, but that's for another day.

Brighton took to the pitch on top of their league and with a manager promoting "sexy flickies and one twos" all over the park. Thirty man moves are the norm with the Albion this season, but - unlike Messi & Co - could we do it on a cold and damp Saturday afternoon in Stoke? Maybe. The home team were, after all, in a run of fairly average form, and have reverted back to what some locals refer to as 'Pulisball'. Their last game before this was an entirely predictable dish of numbing dross against Birmingham. All The Seagulls had to do was control possession in the midfield (see engine room Gary Dicker for details), cut off supply to the wings and a place in the FA Cup Quarter Finals was ours. Whoop.

Football fans are all too quick to lay into Stoke's style of play, but how many of them actually watch every game they play? The only time I really get to see them is for three minutes each week when they're tagged on the end of Match of the Day for the Tony Gubba game. So I wasn't about to vilify Stoke without fact. Just as well really. They tore Brighton to pieces early on. I knew about their aerial threat, viewers of the last five minutes of MOTD were aware and so were Brighton - we just couldn't cope with it.

Carew nodded the Potters ahead from - surprise, surprise - a long throw-in from Delap. Walters added a second, with another header, after some questionable goalkeeping from our Slovakian cup "specialist" Brezovan. And Shawcross scored their third with yet another bloody header, after more good work from the highly impressive Belfast born midfielder, Marc Wilson. Pretty deflating for the large Albion following, but a masterclass in set plays and the like from Stoke. Nobody does it better.

Sadly, Etherington - who had been a relative joy to watch with his trickery down the left flank - was withdrawn just before half time with an injury. He was replaced by Ricardo Fuller, who I believe I'm contractually obliged to refer to as both a maverick Jamaican and a real handful. You could almost Phil (sic) the power of his presence.

Delap. He throws from the left....

...he throws from the right. Anti-football? You're probably right.

Etherington produces thrills and spills in front of the World Wide Webb.

Brighton fans did at least have a bit of fun in the second half. Finally, we got into our stride, and towards the latter stages strung together a plethora of passes to huge cheers. Hell, even Stoke managed to string four consecutive passes together at one stage, which brought the house down from both sets of fans. We all laughed.

So a thoroughly deserved win for the home side. Sometimes you just have to hold your hands up and say well played. The did boss the midfield and we did fail to cut off the supply to their wings. Them's the breaks.

Afterwards, the debate raged on amongst the Stoke faithful as they near the end of their three-year plan. It centred around the sale of Tuncay and Gudjohnssen, the purchase of Carew, and about whether Pulis can actually take the club beyond survival at all cost and develop their football. Can he overcome his underdog mentality and mistrust of individuality, or will he continue to revert back to his default setting of Pulisball? Better times are round the corner for Brighton, but for today anyway, forgive us Delilah we just couldn't take anymore. Well played Stoke.

We'll be back.

Yeah, about that car in Zaragoza old chap...

Happy Potters.


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Watford v Brighton

The Seagulls That Kicked The Hornets' Nest

Watford 0-1 Brighton (29:01:11)

It was so nice of Southern Rail to get in on the act. They chose to celebrate the Seagulls progression into the 4th round of the FA Cup proper by laying on a fleet of (Gus) buses to ferry 3,649 Brighton fans to Vicarage Road. Well, very nearly. They actually dropped us off in Three Bridges, 60 miles away, but the thought was certainly there. After all, hands up who's not keen as mustard for a bus replacement service to kick start their Saturday.

The train took the strain from Three Bridges to Watford. Britain's busiest train as it transpired. Just the four carriages were laid on for the heaving mass of singing Seagulls. Only a few hundred were able to squeeze on our train and the rest were left to frantically scroll through their train timetable applications on their iPhones.

Long gone are the days when I'd put a tick next to a few pre-match beers in an O'Neills, Wetherspoons or Walkabout pub on the High Street with a couple of police riot vans parked outside for company. It's quite hard to get misty eyed about those ten-deep rugby scrums at the bar.

We're all about meticulous preparation here at European Football Weekends, so we opted for a few real ale pubs outside Bushey Station, twenty minutes from the ground and full of a mixture of home and away fans happy to eat, drink and be merry rather than entertain the notion of a toe-to-toe fight.

Cup fever reaches WD18.

No place like gnome.

Our first pub of choice, The Rifle Volunteer promised us Panini's from 10am. I hadn't collected those stickers for years, but I was happy they were still be traded in the WD postal district, even though I had forgotten to bring my swaps. Actually they turned out to be of the bread variety. And not even two metre meat bread at that. Sigh.

Next up was The Railway Arms were we'd arranged to meet some Glory Hornet Boys. Step forward Mike and company from the excellent "From The Rookery End" podcast. Also supping pints of Abbott Ale were Damon and Simon from the equally excellent Real FA Cup blog and six or so Brighton fans who formed the EFW team for the day.

Sadly, The Rookery End boys failed to bring along 'Xavier' the lucky snowman. A small model with WFC hat and scarf, named after Xavier Gravelaine. Or for that matter, their knitted version of Watford legend Wilf Rostron (see their podcast for details).

My last visit to Watford FC to see Brighton play was in the old Division 2 at the back end of the 80s. You no longer have to yomp through an old cart track through Arthur Fowler's allotment to get to the away end. There used to be a little vulpine-esque avoidance trick of paying to get in the Rookery (home end) before explaining to a local bobby that you'd inadvertently goosed up. He or she would then march you along the side of the pitch and into the away section thus saving you a twenty-five minute walk.

So what's changed? There's no longer an enormous scoreboard at the back of the Vicarage Road terrace. This has been replaced by video screens. The curved shallow terracing elsewhere and bright yellow bench seats have also been filed under bin. The East Stand is still a bit of a shambles though. Health and safety gurus now ensure this section is only good for the press, players, Elton John and Graham Taylor. Fans aren't welcome there. I've no doubt about that in my mind*. *Nod to Graham Taylor.

Through the electronic (electronic!) turnstiles we went, negotiated our way through Hertfordshire's tiniest concourse - not suited to nearly 4000 fans, or 400 for that matter - and out into our seats. We did have a choice of seat - red or yellow.

A hat-tip must be offered to Watford Football Club with regards to the price of the match ticket for this tie. Despite the obvious fact this was their cup final, they'd seen fit to reduce the cost to a very agreeable £15. There's a bit of FA Cup magic for you.

Seagulls, flying high.

M'Lord.

In the previous round, Watford had notched three of their four goals by a move involving players cutting in from the touchline. Piero Mingoia's effort being a 20 yard effort - on his debut. Brighton are made of sterner stuff than Hartlepool these days though, and Gus, like EFW, had done his homework. Brighton's back four had the inform Danny Graham in their pocket and young whipersnappers Buckley and Sordell didn't get any change out of my man of the match Liam Bridcutt - who pulled more strings than Geppetto.

Brighton deservedly took the lead on 16 minutes when Ashley Barnes drilled in a shot that had Gillmartin - in between the Watford sticks - flapping Robert Green-style. An absolute howler from the lad. 0-1. Star jumps were the celebration of choice in the away end. A brilliant way to both celebrate and keep warm at the same time. Some cruel Albion fans mocked Gillmartin - not a regular starter - with the Mitchell Johnson Barmy Army song, "He dives to the left, he dives to the right, that Gillmartin, he's f*cking sh*te."

In the words of Rookery Mike "football may as well not exist if we can't treat ourselves to the occasional gloat." So, here goes: The blue and white wizards were superb. They played total football (hello to you, Ajax) in large spells of this game. And. Triangles. The only thing threatening stopping their champagne football was a combination of a bobbly pitch and a local power cut, which cut the supply to the "golden boys" floodlights for much of the first half.

The large solar panel on the East Stand reignited the floodlights.

The green, green grass of Vicarage Road.

We can see you sneaking out.

I must admit, that Abbot Ale does wonders for loosening the vocal chords. I rolled back the years and started a song. Picking my moment to perfection, I bellowed out "From the South..." and seconds later the best part of 4000 fans were singing "We are Brighton, super Brighton, we are Brighton, from the South," Not a note out of tune either. You never really lose your SSS (song starting skills). Good old life.

As well as being in the hat for the 5th round proper, Brighton and Hove Albion FC can also be very proud of something else this week. Football clubs change their club crest willy nilly these days, and there are some horrific examples of how this can go very wrong; Arsenal, Fulham, Morecambe, Shrewsbury, QPR, Northampton, Manchester City, Leeds United - in fact the list goes on and on. Brighton are changing theirs again. The excuse? They're moving into a new stadium. Fair enough. Thing is, they've got it very right. I was never comfortable with the current badge - hate in fact. But the new effort, which is a return to the old school design, but with a clever, subtle and modern twist - a yellow beak - is absolutely spot on. All we need now is for the club to dig out the four towering floodlights from the Goldstone Ground, and fasten them onto the corners at the new stadium in Falmer and we really will be able to sleep tight at night. Sweet dreams.

Further reading Brighton v FC United (Round 2), Brighton v Portsmouth (Round 3).

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Gander Green Golden Goal Glory

Sutton United 0-1 Notts County (08:11:08)

If loving the FA Cup is wrong, I don't want to be right. It's the worlds greatest competition and no mistake. So a chance to visit Gander Green Lane to witness a sniff of a giant killing act for this FA Cup 1st Round proper was to good to turn down for Cynical Dave and I.

As has been the case nearly every weekend since about 1972, the train journey northwards from Brighton was marred by four words that strike fear into every fan of public transport: 'Rail bus replacement service'. However, during those deeply disturbing moments, the thought of a possible sighting of a home made silver foil FA Cup at Gander Green Lane lifted our spirits.


Upon our arrival at the ground, I picked up my press pass (thanks to Tony Dolbear for that) and headed into the press box. In the interest of keeping things real I actually turned down the opportunity to sit in the press box but I had noticed Tom Watt sliding into the ground before me so I popped in to have a chat with him. I don't think Tom will mind me telling you he used to play Lofty in Eastenders in the days when people actually used to watch it. Nowadays he broadcasts for BBC Radio London amongst other things and is not only a brilliant broadcaster but a thoroughly nice chap. He is the sort of bloke who you'd like to sit down the pub with a couple of pints of Guinness and some mini cheddars and chat for hours.

Anyway, enough of stories of swanning around press boxes and chatting with the stars, what about the pre match beers!? Well, as luck would have it, Sutton have a rather splendid clubhouse next to the main stand. Every club at this level needs a bar to help along with the finances and Cynical and I contributed a healthy amount of money behind this one in a bid to quench our thirst. The beer was excellent and the service was fantastic so full marks to SUFC on that score.

Sutton fans feeling the magic of the cup - good on yer kids!

Whilst sinking our ale Cynical and I discussed Sutton and what it's famous for. Episodes of the Bill are often filmed there and rotund, Welsh hymn-singing, Sir Cumference Harry Secombe called it his home but of course, ask any football fan about Sutton United and one match stands out a country mile. In 1989 Coventry City went from lifting the FA Cup the previous year to an ignominious defeat in this part of leafy Surrey the next. Sutton's 2-1 victory over Coventry City is part of FA Cup folklore and fans were rightly still harping on about it in the bar during our visit.

The walk from West Sutton station to the ground is only 100 yards or so. Good news for most people but not for Cynical. There was no bookies to be found and the blood was starting to drain from his face as he'd yet to place a bet of any kind. Luckily, help was at hand in the bar. He managed to buy a handful of scratchcards, enter a guess the crowd competition and for good measure he purchased two golden goal tickets. These were folded over so you couldn't see which two minutes he had got, so just to prolong the agony we decided not to unveil the minutes until the first goal had been scored. We don't get out much you see.

Notts County had brought around 350 fans. Most of these had congregated in the main stand and were in fine voice. They sang their famous wheelbarrow song, a little ditty about Jimmy 'The Squirrel' Cyril and my favourite which was 'I wanna beeeeeee Notts County' to the tune of Anarchy in the UK by the Sex Pistols. A good effort lads.

Sadly, there were not too many silver foil FA Cup in evidence. We are armpit deep in a recession and in a recession, the first thing to go from the household budget of even the most dedicated football fan is the homemade FA Cup. Still, there were plenty of flags and yellow balloons and one family had brought along their own plastic FA Cup which was extremely pleasing. Mercifully, jester hats were also in short supply. These things clearly have no place at a football ground. Anyone who does choose to wear one and is over the age of let's say 20 should be put in a sheep pen as far as I'm concerned.

I won't bang on about the actual match itself too much. Suffice to say Sutton did their fans proud with their efforts. For long periods it looked quite likely that they were going to win. I guess Tom Watt was waiting to launch into his Norwegian commentary bit for BBC London 'Derek Randall, Donald Pleasance, Leslie Crowther, Friar Tuck, that bird who played Reg Holdsworth's missus in Corrie, Dale Winton. Can you hear me Dale Winton!? Your boys took one hell of a beating'.

Notts County had other ideas though and in the 75th minute, Jamie Clapham swung over an inviting cross for Richard Butcher to nod home. Sutton fans buried their heads in their hands as the County fans celebrated as if it were 1999 (again).

The stadium announcer then boomed out: 'In the 75th minute, the scorer for Notts County, Richard Butcher'. Hold on a second, what about our golden goal tickets!? Cynical reached for his pocket and pulled them out. A deathly silence descended on the terrace as the first ticket was unveiled. 74! seventy-sodding-four! Would you believe it!? With a look of disgust and a rolling of the eyes, Cynical then made a dash for the next ticket. Time stood still as it slowly revealed the magic number. 75! seventy-bloomingwell-five! That's it! We're rich! hold the front page! Where's the bar!?

Oh yes!

After the match we made our way into the Sutton megastore to collect. The well stocked club shop is run by Alison Denyer who is the SUFC Supporter's Club Chairman and a delightfully friendly and bubbly character to boot. She handed 20 of your earth pounds over to a beaming Cynical and all of a sudden, standing in the thumping rain for 90 minutes seemed a distant memory.

Does life get any better!?

Naturally, we ran back to the bar to celebrate our good fortune. However, our plans for a mental night were dealt a cruel blow. A sign on the window of the aforementioned clubhouse read thus: 'Under fire regulations party poppers are NOT permitted on these premises'. How's your luck!? Cynical's first golden goal win ever and no party poppers. Oh well, back to Brighton we headed and into our favourite pub The Lord Nelson. There we had what can only be described as 'too much to drink'. We'd headed out in search of the magic of cup. Sutton United had sprinkled a bit of magic on us and we'd enjoyed our day out there - good luck to them!

Lol!