Tea £1-99
Coach travel £149
Toilet! 20p
Match ticket £42-78 [E55]
Tea on ferry £1-49
Lens provisions £5-28
Transaction fees £1-25
Tea on ferry £2-75
Burger King £5-49
Starbucks tea £2
Coke and pizza at ground £7-07 (E9 (at 0.79 per pound))
Total £219-30
‘Don’t send me home, please don’t send me home…’
I headed back to France for our second group game, in Lens, for perhaps the biggest game so far against Wales. They had done incredibly well in the run-up to the tournament, so this was going to be a tricky hurdle to overcome, even if we were favourites.
This time I booked onto a coach going all the way from Manchester to Lens. This was a smart move as it avoided any overnight accommodation costs, and also ensured some degree of safety with no need to travel through nearby Lille (where there was apparently more trouble brewing). I got talking to some fellow fans – one guy had been to several of the last few tournaments, whilst a woman on board told me how she had stayed at a game farm whilst in South Africa! There are some hardened travellers who follow England, and the national team should never forget the lengths some fans go to.
As we trundled through Birmingham, the coach filled up even more, and a few hours later we were in Dover waiting to catch a ferry at a small hour of the night. I checked the news on my phone and it seemed there had indeed been more violence in Lille. Rather foolishly, Russia’s game against Slovakia was held there, just a few miles away from England’s game.
On the ferry across, fans were having early cooked breakfasts, and as we approached the French shoreline, the sun began to rise. It was a peaceful start to what could be an eventful day. Lens is not far at all from Calais so we arrived there at about 8am in the morning. After having my 2 complimentary drinks (both Coca Cola I hasten to add!) I explored Lens, where I had identified several possible grounds to find. Although technically a city, Lens felt more like a large town, roughly akin to Northampton, Burnley or somewhere similar.
My exploration brought me back to the main stadium, where by now it was pelting it down. Unfortunately I had no effective waterproof other than a cycling jacket so ended up waiting in a portaloo for the downpour to subside! After a stroll through the centre, where fans were out in force now, I circled back to the ground. This felt like a Premier League derby – there was a great atmosphere but no violence or unpleasantness (yet!).
I arrived in plenty of time for the obligatory photos. I was in the England end behind the goal, directly opposite the huge (red) Welsh contingent at the far end. This was another special ground as it was where we had beaten Columbia 2-0 in France ’98, though it is much changed since that year. The ground was a real contrast to Marseille – here there were 4 distinct stands, much like an English ground in the Premier League or Championship.
England started poorly in this one. We did not really create much and looked a bit ropey in midfield. As with that period in the Russia game, passes were going astray and there was no end product on many moves. Wales, on the other hand, held their shape brilliantly, and had two stand-out performers in Joe Ledley and Gareth Bale. Then on 42 minutes, Rooney gave away a free-kick at our end. Surely this was too far out? Not when Bale is in town. He hit a precise curling shot which dipped over the wall and towards the bottom corner. Hart had his hand on it, and probably should have done better, but couldn’t keep it out. 1-0 Wales, and the jeers rang out “England’s going home, you’re going home” at half-time.
It was all on the line now. We had gone from looking at a comfortable win against Russia to now facing an early tournament exit without a win. The margins are so fine in this game. Hodgson, to his credit, made an excellent double substitution at the break. Vardy and Sturridge replaced Kane and Sterling. The latter pair looked exhausted and jaded so it was time for a change. Now we looked better than Wales, and began to attack with more verve and confidence. Vardy, as an archetypal English striker, was the spearhead of many attacks, whilst Sturridge was sitting a bit deeper, using his finesse to dictate the forward play. Vardy had a quick impact, smashing in the equaliser at our end after Ashley Williams accidentally nudged the ball back to goal. It was a poacher’s goal but they all count. In between the action on the pitch, I was having a good chat with a couple of older fans from the Midlands, explaining how we needed to increase out shots to increase our percentage chance – one bloke next to me said ‘I don't really care about percentages or stats. All I know is that we need shots on target and then we’ll score!’
For the next half an hour we continued to pour forward, but to no avail. Rashford’s introduction as a pacey substitute further ignited the England attack. We could smell blood from the Welsh, who had few options on the bench beyond their first 11. Just when it seemed that another promising game might end in a draw, Sturridge picked up the ball on the left of the box and wriggled elegantly past the defence before sliding a perfectly timed shot past Wayne Hennessey. The crowd went crazy, and we were singing ‘Don’t send me home’ in between hugging and jumping over the seats. The final whistle went and the celebrations continued – what a result!
I headed back to the coach parked up in the centre, and after a long queue for a busy ferry we made our way back home. On the ferry home I had an optimistic feeling that I may be back in France next weekend for a last-16 game in Paris.
After a late-night ferry and a coach ride through the night, we arrived back in Manchester at 3am in the morning. I found a fast food chain (one not full of drunks fortunately!) and then headed back to Sheffield on the first train. I arrived home dishevelled, smelly, and exhausted but at the same time utterly elated with the trip.
Despite my optimism about a trip to Paris (for either the QF or last-16 match), Wales was my second and final game at the Euros. I gave Slovakia a miss and then couldn’t realistically make the Iceland game in Nice due to annual leave and costs. Somehow England had contrived to ruin what could have been such a great tournament for them and the fans. Whilst I was disappointed to have not seen any more games, on reflection it is good that my Euro 2016 ended on some kind of a high – albeit a premature one.
