We, which of course means I, had a short drive across the border into Belgium today for what promised to be some spicy football. Game one was a relative local battle of pride in the center of Belgium. Aalst, home of the textile industry, isn’t exactly known as a hotbed of Belgian football. In fact it is a relative cool bed of most things, but we had been promised the best day ever so who was we to say no?
Confession time. I’ve only ever had two kebabs in my life. Once, back in 1989 and then again I had a moment of weakness in Cardiff after the 2006 FA Cup Final. But with just 10 minutes at Gent St Peters station between trains, and no food, our only option was a kebab shop. So we indulged, and I have to say, on a Sunday morning, it was wonderful. I can now understand what all of the fuss is about. Sorry Current Mrs Fuller, a moment’s weakness.
Aalst certainly wasn’t rocking when we arrived at midday. Perhaps it was the fear of the invading Royal Antwerp fans or the fact that time stands still in Belgium on a Sunday. We were due to meet Yves, “Mr Fix It” at Eendracht Aalst. With Antwerp being the visitors, this game had been designated as a “Combi” game (or a “Bubble” game in English speak), so tickets for three visitors from England would be difficult to get hold of. Danny reached out for help via the Aalst forum and the answer was clear “Ask Yves”. So he did, and three tickets were procured. All we had to do was meet with Yves.
Five minutes later we were ushered into a private room in the stadium. In front of us was the half man/half onion outfit. The TV cameras were due to record a special programme on the chap who would be slipping on the famous outfit, having been doing the job for decades. On the floor were the special onion shoes. Opportunities to slip into the shoes of someone famous rarely come along and so Danny tried to put one on. Alas, like Cinderella’s ugly sisters, he couldn’t get his foot in. But it was a different story for me and I would be marrying the prince. That was until the “prince” walked in and we made a hasty retreat.
Time to watch some football. The Royal Antwerp fans didn’t seem to be too happy with their accommodation and started throwing everything they could get their hands on. For far too many years they had been languishing in the second division and the fans were growing weary of seeing smaller teams gaining promotion. They now had Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink in the hotseat but he hadn’t exactly set the division alight. But perhaps this game would kick-start their season?
Eendracht Aalst 1 Royal Antwerp 0 – Sunday 1st December 2013 – Pierre Cornelisstadion
At the full-time whistle the home fans surged to the front of the perimeter barriers and joined in a spontaneous Zorba’s dance with the Aalst players. After a decent first half, they had faded towards the end of the game and hung on for all three points. The single goal, scored by Andy Carroll look-alike Glouftsis was the difference between the two teams although it was the home keeper, Verhoeven who was the busier of the two.
At the heart of Antwerp’s midfield was a certain J. Bostock. Six years ago Bostock made his debut for Crystal Palace at the age of 15 years old. A year later, after just four appearances for Palace, he was a Spurs player, after a heated legal row on his ownership. Six years later the “wonder-kid” he has played just sixty games in his career. In the summer Spurs released him, once again underlining the way in which promising youngsters are often simply warehoused by the top clubs. Royal Antwerp have taken a chance on him and here he was in all of his glory.
The atmosphere created by just 3,500 was certainly impressive. The away fans sent over a few flares, and the home fans retorted with a few songs about the parentage of the away fans. But who was we to care. We were in the middle of the biggest conga since Zorba the Greek.
K.V Kortrijk 1 Zulte Waregem 1 – Sunday 1st December 2013 – Guldensporonstadion
Thousands of fans, dressed in red and white were preparing to march to the stadium. And by preparing I mean firing flares into the air, throwing fire-crackers on the floor and twirling their scarves like there was no tomorrow. It was the best night ever. Danny and Damon aren’t easily bought but put them a beer in one hand and the chance of a flare in the other than they are anyones. As the sensible one in the group I went and got the car and drove it to the Guldensporonstadion and waited patiently for their three rings to say they had safely arrived.
The away keeper, Bossut, was welcomed at the home end with a shower of potatoes. Not once did he bat an eyelid though. Three minutes into the game and he needed to be on the top of his game as he faced a penalty from Santini, making a great save to silence the home fans. But it wasn’t long before they did take the lead when De Smet scored after some smart close control in the area and unsurprisingly the fans went mental.
It was time for us to come home. For Damon and Danny it was a chance of a snooze, but for me it was a trip on the concentration highway. It had been a long, tiring trip but one that had ultimately been more rewarding than a trip to Marseilles. Even the UK border guard who questioned us about our trip agreed. Rome, Copenhagen, Istanbul, Stockholm and Belgrade – The best derbies in Europe for atmosphere by far. Add to that list Kortrijk.