Tiddly Tales

Three tales of curious games, with accidental, hilarious and distraught moments mixed in. They all involve relatively tiddly teams from Latvia, Liechtenstein and San Marino, and it seems one such occasion comes along every decade or so!

1/ LATVIA V ISRAEL, 4th June 2011

The king of all the random games I have ever attended was an early June 2011 European Championship game in Riga. As luck would have it I was in the city for a few days getting to know a Latvian lady better having met a few months earlier in Edinburgh. We had enjoyed a fabulous day in the city doing all the touristy things, including a boat trip on the wonderful Daugava River, where oddly an encounter with Kazakhs left an indelible mark that stays with me to this day, with my passion for its football. The UNESCO preserved central area of Riga is absolutely exquisite; the St Peter’s Church; the rather unattractive sounding, but incredible House of the Black Heads; the extraordinary Three Brothers, three neighbouring buildings built in three separate centuries, and the stunning Freedom monument, the centrepiece of modern day Riga.

Olja needed  to head back to the suburbs to attend to her elderly mother, and she dropped me outside the hotel with a view to giving me time to chill out before she came back later for us to go out for dinner. No sooner was I on the pavement headed for the hotel entrance when a couple of lads sporting maroon and white scarves walked by. These were days before mobile phone apps could be viewed to confirm kick off times, certainly not without wifi, but while I had been aware there was a game in the city, like any good football fan, alas I had no idea where the stadium was situated. I hadn’t even paid attention to when the game was starting.  I guess when you are being chaperoned around the need to even have a map wasn’t there either.  

Instead of heading into the hotel, I decided to follow the scarves in the faint hope they wouldn’t jump on a bus with the stadium a considerable distance away. I totally lucked in, as within ten minutes of walking up the same road as the hotel, they turned left, and soon after it brought a view of the Skonto Stadium, complete with a bustling crowd gathering. When I got nearer it became apparent the kick off was just 20 minutes off, which was perfect, I could watch the game and still be back at the hotel before Olja re-appeared. Latvia v Israel in a European Championship qualifier was about to be my most unplanned game ever. 

In those days the Skonto stadium had a near open end with just a scoreboard and some temporary seating beyond the goal. It looked like work was ongoing here, as a wire fence was all that was blocking entry. As I neared the opposite side from the main stand I noticed that two pieces of this fence were apart, easily allowing access. Out of sheer curiosity I nipped through the gap, down a slight embankment to a path that was running along the back of that stand. I could see men in army fatigues searching people at the gates ahead of coming down the stairs to the entrance to the stand. Not one person stopped my progress, but when I got to the door, and looked through, I could see the pitch at the far end of the stand, but also a steward and given I had no ticket, I panicked and decided to head back the way I came in and round to the main stand to see if I could buy a ticket. That was easily achieved, a ticket for the main stand, but upon my entry, looking across to the other stand I had been close to sitting in, the stewards weren’t looking at anyone’s ticket, just helping people if they asked. I could have been in for nothing! That said, I was chuffed with my ticket, and from where I was sitting it would make for an easier get away for returning to the hotel at the end of the game.

These were the days when Latvia’s success at the Euros of the ‘90’s was still prevalent, and they were still a reasonably well supported land. Around 6,500 were on hand in the Skonto, including a number of Israeli fans, most of whom were local Russian Jews I was informed by a neighbouring fan when I commented about the size of the away following sat nearby. Still in a daze at the speed of the change from cultural tour to football, the first half whizzed by, and despite the enthusiasm of the locals every time Latvia got near the opponents box, Israel were too street wise and picked the hosts off more clinically, culminating in a depressing penalty award just before half-time to leave the stadium largely deflated at 0-2. A rejuvenated Latvia were far more menacing in the second period, and when the penalty count was evened up just after the hour mark, Aleksandrs Cauna made it 1-2. From that point onward Israel had to defend desperately to hold out, which ultimately they succeeded in achieving much to the delight of the “not so far” travelled away support, but it’s debatable whether they had done enough to claim the win. 

I was back at the hotel and showered before Olja arrived, apologetic for how long she’d been away, but she was both astonished and delighted that I had been at the football. We sat out on at a rooftop restaurant and watched the most fabulous Rigan sunset, but frustratingly for the football fan in me, while the match ticket had fitted in my camera case,  somewhere in the joy of capturing of the astonishing sunset, the pesky wee card had popped out of the camera case never to be seen again. I never saw anyone selling programmes, but I know one was produced, maybe they’d all gone before I arrived at the main stand near kick off. I am always on the look out for this 2011 edition, but it’s bizarre how many times these two nations have played each other, and sods law every other edition seems readily available!          

2/ LIVINGSTON v FC VADUZ, UEFA Qualifying Round,
2nd Leg, 29th August 2002

Those who know me will appreciate what a wretch it was to see Meadowbank Thistle being hijacked from East Edinburgh out to a town in West Lothian that I have no association with. I had indeed chucked it in before the bitter and twisted end, but they didn’t even change the badge. It still feels as if Livingston has merely been written in crayon over our wonderful badge. I know Meadowbank wasn’t even the clubs original name, having started out as Ferranti Thistle, but the alteration away from a commercial name was necessary to allow access to the Scottish league. It could be said, even back then in 1973, the Scottish football self preservation thing that has reared its ugly head this summer was prevalent once more back then as they chose a third team from Edinburgh ahead of anyone having to bother their backsides going up to Inverness.

Perhaps poetically, as I walked away from Meadowbank, it was the fortunes of a brand new club from the town that had suffered that 1973 snub, Inverness who got my vote for subsequent support, and delightfully we’d soon establish a dislike of Livingston was the two jousted through the leagues.

I wrote this piece some 16 years ago, and fits perfectly into my story here. It was called Stamping Grounds and made an appearance in the Inverness programme for a visit of Livi. Looking back, I am sure it ruffled a few feathers.

“When the dust settles on this potentially troubled, but magnificent season for Inverness, we will have achieved a first? In a classic case of the hare and the tortoise, for the first time since Livi and ICT locked horns in 1995/96, we shall finish above them in a league table.

A question that was posed on a BBC radio sports show recently enquired as to whether ICT’s fine showing in the top flight had been the best ever by a “freshman”. Initially the presenter was at a loss, but eventually someone looked up the stats and it transpired Livingston had taken the league by storm in 2001/02 when they finished a giddy third. Even if through gritted teeth it was a commendable effort, if a lesson in history that subsequent seasons are not necessarily going to see similar status. How do you top a third place finish as a provincial club? (These words could have been written in relation to ICT’s own stunning third place in 2014/15, and the subsequent demise, other than we did top it, we won the Scottish Cup!).

Some may recall that the last time Livingston played here at the Caledonian Stadium in April 2001, they celebrated promotion to the Premier League with a 3-2 win. It was a hard one to swallow for a Meadowbank fan, and it remains the only game in 11 ICT season’s where I sloped away long before the final whistle.

In Livinston’s previous guise, the Edinburgh version had come within a whisker of top flight football in ‘87/88. However, two bad home losses to Clyde and Dumbarton prior to the mother of all final day showdowns with leaders Hamilton had torn that dream to shreds, as only one team could go up, and no play off in these days. To say the refereeing at the Clyde game was dubious is putting things mildly, 16 years on however, Inverness would exact revenge for me. On the penultimate day of fixtures, Liam Keogh and Stevie Hislop scored at Cumbernauld to see us jump above the Bully Wee for the first time in the campaign, and we held our nerve versus St Johnstone to reach the Premier League ourselves.

Livingston’s third place allowed them to qualify for Europe, and they were drawn in the UEFA Qualifying Round to play FC Vaduz from the tiny principality of Liechtenstein. The first game across in Vaduz had ended 1,1. Now it was never my intention to be at Livi’s first ever home match in Europe (excluding of course a Meadowbank Thistle friendly versus FH Hafnafjordur many years prior), but a wonderful book called “Stamping Grounds” had more than raised my curiosity about football in Liechtenstein. Charlie Connelly, the author had written many informative and witty books on football, but this particular tale of a tiny nation’s efforts in trying to qualify for the 2002 World Cup Finals was both hilarious and genuinely refreshing.

Charlie’s writing style is endearing, conveying real warmth as the Liechtenstein players, after initial wariness, opened up to the author, indeed many would seek him out throughout the 8 game odyssey, and every day tale of heroic failure, as they didn’t pick up a single point, or score a goal along the way. Still, much pride was garnered from close run losses 0-1 and 0-2 to neighbours Austria, a running Spain close 0-2 in Vaduz.

A glance at subsequent campaigns will show that Liechtenstein are progressing, as the national team grow in stature, and the principalities flagship club FC Vaduz edge closer to an historic promotion to the Swiss First Division next season. (They have been up and down a few times now).

Previous Vaduz efforts in Europe had been sketchy at best. They had progressed once, courtesy of a brace of 1-1 draws with Universitate Riga and a spot kick success. That brought them a glamour tie with PSG which they lost 7-0 on aggregate, and as they headed to West Lothian following the 1-1 first leg, that elusive first ever European win continued to evade them. Many of the Vaduz team were like household names to me as the Stamping Grounds characters were still fresh in my memory, now they were warming up in front of me. So on that ticket alone, I found myself at Almondvale on 29th August 2002 for this Euro clash.

One of the Liechtenstein players whacked an over exuberant warm up shot over the bar and absolutely thundered into the face of a small child behind the goals. Many of the Vaduz team jumped over the wall into the seating to help, and the player in question was visibly distraught. The reaction of the entire staff was extraordinary so close to a big match, priorities of concern were wonderful to see. Once it all settled down again, I read the report on the first leg in the programme, and Vaduz sounds like an idyllic place to enjoy a European debut, how I long for Inverness to have such an opportunity. (Thirteen years later we did!). Charlie Connelly had appropriately written the programme notes on the visitors and he was on hand to witness the night’s events unfold.

How do I know he was in the stadium? Well put it this way, at the game’s hugely controversial and unsavoury conclusion, very few of us were leaping to our feet to celebrate Vaduz’s winner, and I caught sight of him then! It was a fleeting moment, stolen from us by what I can only describe as the most bizarre end to a game I have ever witnessed. A corner was swung into the Livi box and the Vaduz player connected perfectly with the ball to volley home. Somewhere between the boot being swung and the net being bulged the Croatian referee blew for full time. It should have been 1-0 Vaduz, a first ever win in Europe, but the cruelty of the official with the whistle had cut short their celebrations with incredulity to all those in the ground except Jim Leishman, who puffed the chest out and alleged he knew the whistle had blown, a comment gleefully imparted on the radio as I drove home fizzing! It was heartbreaking for Vaduz, who had ridden their luck throughout the game. Barry Wilson and David Bingham were in the Livi line-up that night, but the real heroes were the men from Liechtenstein, whose gentlemanly acceptance of their cruel fate was a credit to both club and country, an attitude more would do well to follow and it beautifully backed up the essence of the book Stamping Grounds, there is more to life than football.”

3/ San Marino v Bulgaria, European Championships 22nd May 1991

Sandwiched midweek between visiting my two Italian friends for some calcio in Ancona and Padova, I had booked a couple of nights at a hotel in Serravalle in San Marino with a view to seeing an International game at the stadium just a few minutes further down the hill. I arrived in San Marino absolutely purring following Ancona’s stirring derby win over Ascoli. A couple of days reacquainting with the hilltop Republic and enjoying a game in the evening sun, what could be a better way to wind down from that giddy high.

The troubles started at breakfast on the day of the game, the hotel owner, who doubled up as the breakfast assistant to his sole guest that I could see, didn’t have a clue what time the game was going to start. For sure these were the pre-digital days. Given I was reasonably close to the stadium, I am unsure why I didn’t start my day by walking down to it as surely a poster might have been visible or something. I guess I reasoned that I had all day in the city at the top of the hill, someone would know, or I might bump into some Bulgarian fans and they’d know for sure, so I jumped on a bus headed up the round to the top of the Republic.

Well I kept asking and no one really knew, some didn’t even know a game was being played that night. They had recalled Scotland having been a few weeks earlier, we’d been up in the citta di San Marino in considerable numbers, I think the fans had been good for business. If Bulgarians were here at all, I certainly didn’t see any. Thinking back, 1991 was a tumultuous time for Eastern European lands, and the habit of travelling in numbers wasn’t yet the normal, and especially for a routine away win like a game in San Marino. There are not many “easy” games left in the world, but a Bulgaria building up towards its greatest footballing moments at the World Cup of 1994, this wasn’t going to be anything other than an away win, all I needed was a kick off time!

A distinctly plausible time was offered as 18:30, the knowledgeable chap knew that Inter Milan were playing Roma in the UEFA Cup Final that night (such an occurrence of an International and a European final on the same day would never happen now). Starting at that time would see the game over before the final, and it would let the fans get home to watch it, as two big Italian teams would have seen the attendance reduced if the two had clashed. I was convinced he was right, and set about enjoying the rest of my day amid the stunning scenery, and nearer the time tried to get a bus back down the hill. The “International” bus to Rimini stops at Serravalle, but the 17:30 was full, and they directed me towards the local bus which wasn’t leaving until 18:00, but I would still make the kick off as it wasn’t that far.

Once off the bus, even from the main road, I could see the crowd in the stand and walked down the road chuffed the guy had been right after all. They weren’t even bothering to charge anything for watching, the gates were open and I just walked in, and a few minutes later out came the teams, perfect timing. As the game started, something struck me, they’d just gone straight to the kick off, no national anthems?! I turned around in my seat and asked the guy behind me, who confirmed my recent fear, this was the second half, Bulgaria were already leading 2-0! Cursing my luck, at least I caught some of the action, although I wasn’t necessarily the lucky one. Bulgaria had already won and they were merely toying with their hosts, who seemed as usual, bereft of any interesting forward thinking ideas. A soft penalty award duly converted was the only goal of a thunderously tedious 45 minute affair. There were about 10 Bulgarians and one flag, maybe part of the official party, I have no idea, but if only I had bumped into one of them up the street. It remains my solitary half a game abroad, and goes with a half game at Cowdenbeath when they started the new season versus Meadowbank at 2pm for some reason and my friend Martin and I strolled in believing we’d arrived for the start of the game!