With everything we've gone through this week, we were hoping today would be a straightforward conclusion in Amsterdam. With the Ajax game being off,we're now in Belgium to round it all off. Nice easy finish? No chance
We never made it to bed again last night, as the only train journey we could afford within what little's left in our budget, that would get us to Mons in Belgium in time was a 4am departure. Such has been our luck with travelling this week (most of it self-inflicted) we decided to just get there ASAP & deal with it then. Anyway, it's now about 4.30 am & we're on the train, due into Mons for 2pm. The games a sell-out, so we need to find tickets,& therefore needed as long as possible to make it. We board our train, travelling 4 hrs before we have our first connection. No problems there & we all manage to steal a bit kip on it. On this second train, however, I close my eyes to get a bit more, when there's an almighty crash. I genuinely thought we'd been in a train crash & leapt out of my seat to spin round & see an almighty mess on the floor. It turns out that about 3 seats away, one of the locals has somehow managed to absolutely clatter into a glass partition, dividing us from 1st class. The noise was deafening,& luckily,apart from a few cuts on 'herr knobhead', no-one was seriously hurt, although a Japanese girl who was sitting in first class is absolutely hysterical with the shock of it all. I'm winding Dean up-" bet its not the first time you've had 2 women running out of doors,screaming like they're possessed,in one night." He's still got the hump about not getting to bed though, so he's not biting.
After it all settles down, we find the incident quite funny & are just chuckling at our luck, when we stop at a station & a proper repair team come on to clear up all the dangerous shards of glass (the driver had previously attempted it with a piece of scrap metal) & this takes us a good half an hour. The train trundles on & we get off at the German/Belgian border to get our next connection to Liege. It's a sleepy little village & we get there to see that our connecting train has already left. No big deal, we'll get the next one. Looking through the departures board, we're not spoiled for choice. When we bought our tickets, we were specifically told we could not travel on ICE trains, as these are a luxury, private company. Looking through the board, there are only 3 non-private (slow) trains to Liege a day,& we've missed the 1st. The 2nd would get us into mons about 20 mins before kick off & we don't know where the ground is,& don't have tickets for a sell-out, but we've got little option, so we find a cafe & wait out for the next one. The game we're going to is an early kick-off for the Jupiler league, & the reason we chose it was it's proximity to Charleroi airport, where we're flying home from the next morning, but my minds thinking- what if we travel onwards to one of the other, later games? I've got a map of Belgium open in one window, a fixture list in another,& the train booking in the other. However, our train is booked into Mons & we have just over €100 left in our budget,& have to get match tickets out of that. I'm texting people at home, trying to get more info & working out all sorts of permeatations. We'd have trouble getting back to the airport, but I'm not coming this far to blow it on the last day. We finish our coffees (the cafe has a place for your empty trays, where you put it, then it disappears down a conveyor belt. Jamie was that fascinated by it, it took us a while to get him out)to get back to the station,& as a result of the snow, all of the trains are now delayed. We get to our platform, & ours is 20 mins late. Bang on kick off we'd get in now. A train pulls into the platform & we're informed it's terminating here, due to ice on the under-carriage. (We're assuming anyway, all the announcements are in German) we stand there, anxiously asking about for a bit of info, when one English-speaking woman informs us that she missed her connection to Liege & is travelling the same route as us, so we're safe. Meanwhile, looking across to the other side, there's a rickety old train that catches us our eye pulling away. I make a comment, saying it'd be our luck to get a piece of junk like that,& then realise it's got Liege plastered across the back of it. Turns out that was our train,& we'd not heard (or understood) the platform change announcement. We're done. It's all over, shy of trying to get to Northern Belgium instead.
It's then that the ICE train rolls in,& the English-speaking lady informs us that that's our train. We know we've got one last stab at it, so we climb onto it,knowing full well that our tickets aren't valid. As its a fast train, it will get us into Liege quicker & it just leaves us trying to dodge the ticket inspector for 45 mins. This task is made increasingly difficult when we realise the seating is reserved & we obviously don't have reservations, so are drawing attention to ourselves by standing in the aisles. We pile into the tiny toilet cubicle,stacking our bags in,as well as cramming ourselves in,but then realise just how ludicrous this situation is,& spill back out into the aisle,willing to face the music. I say face the music, but the truth is we continue ambling through the aisles, nervously & very slowly, trying to not draw attention to ourselves, which isn't really working due to the bulky bags bumping their way through the train, but we make it. We arrive in Liege station without being asked for our tickets. I venture that we push our luck & stay on until Brussels now, get us midway between a few other games but its a very resounding no,& we get off in Liege, with Jamie & Dean's bums still squeaking.
I get across to the platform information to see that onward trains run hourly & our trains left about 10 mins ago, so we're waiting about.Liege station is quite something. I've been here before, when Everton played, but it's still quite an impressive piece of modern architecture & we stand marvelling at it for a few minutes, whilst Jamie grabs the chance to have a smoke outside,before we casually stroll over to our platform, to be greeted by a familiar sight- the view of the back of a train pulling away from us. A train that we should've been on. It turns out that the snows delayed it by about half an hour,& if we'd have walked over when we got in, we would have been sitting on a warm train,inching towards Mons,buying us a bit more time to try & negotiate our way into a sell-out at the smallest stadium of the week, but instead we're sitting on a freezing cold platform, with a further hour,at least, to wait for the next one to come along. Best get the beers in, then.
We head along to a bar in the station & sample some of the local Jupiler but Dean doesn't fancy it. He's sitting there silent, before he says "we ain't gonna make this. There's no chance of us getting there in time,& even if we do, how are we gonna get tickets?" We have to make it. There's no option for not doing it. It's not like we can just try again next week, but Dean's tired,& he's had about enough. "Even if we can only get 2 tickets, I don't mind not going to the game." The madness of Paris. The lunacy of Milan. All that travelling, all that effort, just for 6/7? Nah. We're doing it, even if it means skipping Mons & making the 2 hr journey from Mons to Genk. We would need a lot of luck in trains falling our way,but it's possible,& gives us a safety net if things don't work out in Mons. The train eventually arrives & its a tense journey. We get to Mons with about 20 mins to go before kick off & we're lucky enough to find lockers at the train station to ditch our bags in (Jamie was already looking for a suitable hedge to safely store all of our belongings in!) & jump in a cab to the Stade Charles Tondreau. We've no idea where we're going but thankfully the grounds very nearby & we're there within minutes. I leave the lads to look for touts whilst I try the official approach, walking round to the other side of the ground to the box office. I speak to a few touts en route & they want €100 per ticket. No chance. The budget wouldn't stretch that fair anyway, so I carry on in the queue. The whole time I'm waiting, my mind's still whirring & the phone's still frantically trying to find an alternative route to Genk in time for kick off there in just over 3 hours. I get to the ticket window & explain what we're doing & what we're hoping to achieve, but they can't help, as it is a complete sell-out. At this point, a gentleman comes forward & offers to help. His friend can't make it now & he was looking to return his ticket,but instead is offering it to me, at face value. It's just the 1 ticket, but he says he may know of 2 others. A few minutes later, he's back, complete with the other pair. They're in a different stand to the first one, but we're all going.The fans at Mons are brilliant with us as we're filtering through the gates & as we insert our barcodes into the scanner for the last time on this journey, there's one last relieved shared glance at each other that says "we're in". However, no matter how big a relief that one's been each time,it's still not job done as its all about getting the flag displayed. Jamie takes the solo ticket & it turns out the other 2 tickets are in the hospitality section,& someone's not turned up, so we blag him into our stand. One last attempt at trying to explain what we want to do to foreign stewards without speaking their language & they're again very helpful, directing us to the corner flag to get the flag hung. I get it tied onto the rail at the front,& upload a quick picture to Facebook to let friends & family know the jobs been done & we sit down.
I've thought about this moment a bit over the last few days & how the elation of completing our gruelling task would feel,but as my phone starts going mental with congratulatory texts coming through, it's a completely different sensation I'm feeling. My body has completely shut down as I sit down to watch the game kick off. I mean, I don't even the strength to get my phone out. I realise the entire week has been spent on adrenaline & that's run it's natural course. I joked before we went that I'd be living on Red Bull the whole week. Truth is, I had 2 the entire time. It wasn't needed.My minds been constantly moving,thinking of where we need to be next,what train gets us where at what time,finding our digs. Then,it's getting to grounds on time,getting tickets,will the tickets work?can we get the flag in?can we hang the flag?where's best to display it?can it be seen on TV?& so on. Now that it's done, I physically can't move. Looking at Dean & Jamie,they're seemingly in the same boat. The game starts & I'm only half watching. The Mons Ultras, right next to the Anderlecht away supporter are up for it & are making a show with their banners & flares,whilst 2 skinheads stand at the front with megaphones orchestrating it all. I have to say its impressive & seeing each club's ultras has been an interesting aspect to this.
The Mons team, managed by Belgian legend, Enzo Scifo, however is much less impressive. Within minutes of the start, Anderlecht are hammering them, & by the time they go 1-0 up, in the 5th minute, they should probably have been 2 or 3 ahead already. Dieumerci Mbokani,their Congolese striker is a real handful & he has an easy tap in right in front of us. The Mons ultras carry on singing even in the aftermath of the goal, which is massively impressive,but by the time Mbokani scores his second,they've had enough. No-one enjoys seeing their team get battered like Mons are & I've no idea how they went in at half time only 2-0 down.
At half time,we head for a beer to try & revitalize ourselves but Dean's getting increasingly paranoid about the locals stood around us, who he seems to think are only here for the sole purpose of battering us foreigners. I must say, I'm not getting this vibe at all, even though all attempts to converse are thwarted by the language barrier. Sleep depravation can do some crazy things to the mind though,& we move on.
Second half kicks off & the beers aren't having the desired effect. We've taking an extra couple each down to our seats,as its our last game on the continent & we'll be pining for this novelty soon enough, but we're practically falling asleep at this point. So much so that the game completely passes us by. Some of the local kids are taking an interest in the flag & are waving it,trying to replicate the Ultras. This results in the 3 of us not being able to see a thing but no one's moving, speaking or even moderately concerned in the game. There's a bit of commotion down the other end on a couple of occasions,but Im not exaggerating when I say, we are effectively asleep. Here's the proof. Mbokani got his hat trick, the Mons goalkeeper was sent off after they'd used all their subs, leading to the footballing equivalent of when a dog runs into your school classroom, the good old tiny left back donning the gloves to go in goal, Anderlecht scored a penalty & another goal besides,& it finished 5-0. I saw 2 of the 5 goals, then 3 kids & a big green flag, 10 minutes of the back of my eyelids & a bit of the Ultras going home. It's fair to say we're relieved to hear the final whistle & we pack up the flag for the last time & make our way out of the stadium.
We stop for a quick beer outside the ground & there's a barbecue going on for the locals. Dean can't muster another beer,but Jamie grabs us a couple whilst I queue to get us some "baguettes saucissons" at what is literally a grill in the pub car park. The queues chaotic but I eventually get them & sit down to enjoy with our beers. It's beautiful, but about 3 bites into it, I get a gritty taste & hear a crunch. There's actual stones fallen into it & I've only gone & managed to break a tooth on it! Unbelievable. Thought all the madness was over with,but it seems there's one last bit of bad luck left for me,eh? We walk back towards the train station & walking through the town of Mons really is impressive. The history & the architecture, coupled with the winter night & all the Christmas decorations really do round things off for us.
We head back to the lockers at the station to pick up our bags (bizarrely, there's a couple of teenagers carrying on INSIDE the next locker. Suppose we all needed whatever privacy we could get at that age, eh?)& we head off on one last train journey
We did it. Job done & despite some very major setbacks before we even left, some very near misses in Paris & Milan, Jamie's flights home for the funerals of loved ones, flying into Holland for a game that was never played, the havoc that the continental weather caused to our travels, a lot of alcohol & not so much sleep, we've achieved our goal.The flag has been to 7 games in 7 countries in 7 days, being photographed at all,& made it onto the Telly in 5 of those games. Our flight leaves Charleroi at 8am the next morning but the lads are taking no further chances on our luck holding out. It's 9pm on Saturday night & we're heading there right now. There's €20 left in the kitty, enough for a few beers & then one last night without a bed. Our train to the airport contains quite a few people on our flight with the same idea of sleeping at the airport. It seems we're not the only ones who don't trust Ryanair. In fairness to them, they haven't let us down this far. Time for home.& by home, I mean Goodison Park. Everton v Spurs tomorrow in what will be a kind of homecoming for us,with lots of people meeting up with us pre-match, including Paul who couldn't make it with us in the end,but contributed massively from home. My 9th game in as many days & I genuinely can't wait
For anyone who hasn't read this blog before, we are trying to take a flag to 7 football games in 7 days in 7 different countries, to raise awareness,& money, for the Oscar Knox Appeal. Oscar is a young boy from Northern Ireland who has severe Neuroblastoma & desperately needs money to help him,& other children with this disease.
Please read oscar's blog here http://oscarknox.blogspot.co.uk/?m=1 You can donate to our JustGiving page here https://www.justgiving.com/7ma7ches7coun7ries7days/ We are funding this entire trip ourselves & 100% of what you donate will go to Oscar's Appeal Although we were initially hesitant to be raising money whilst having a glorified holiday, so many good people have come forward to us, that it would be sinful to refuse
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