The notion of four English lads, one of whom having already ventured south from Sheffield, driving from Portsmouth to Bruges, with the intention of watching football, seems ridiculous to many. It seemed a bit daft to me when I woke up Friday morning, contemplating my train journey across to Fareham to meet Cusack and our other two accomplises, as we set off to do exactly that. Drive to Bruges and spend a weekend watching football. After all, how else are you going to spend a sunny August weekend?
We arrived in Bruges on Friday afternoon having made good time, having been caught on the channel tunnel as somebody's car battery decided to implode during the crossing. On first impressions, I was very impressed with the city! It's cobbled streets and architecture provide for a fantastic character, and despite not being the largest of cities, it also proved to be very hospitable and a cracking laugh. With my observations in mind, we headed out into the town to see what awaited us. Chips and plenty of Jupiler for the main part, which isn't a problem in my book.
We arrived in Bruges on Friday afternoon having made good time, having been caught on the channel tunnel as somebody's car battery decided to implode during the crossing. On first impressions, I was very impressed with the city! It's cobbled streets and architecture provide for a fantastic character, and despite not being the largest of cities, it also proved to be very hospitable and a cracking laugh. With my observations in mind, we headed out into the town to see what awaited us. Chips and plenty of Jupiler for the main part, which isn't a problem in my book.
Saturday morning was spent searching for a hangover cure, and so we took it upon ourselves to explore the city in full and stock up on food. The old town of Bruges is beautiful, I have to say, and the glorious sunshine we enjoyed throughout the weekend certainly went some way to help. It's a historic old town, and well worth a visit if you ever get the chance. There was, however, something more pressing happening that evening, and so we made our way back to the house (owned by Cusack's family), and jumped in the car to head south for Deinze. European football time.
On reflection, I don't think we actually saw anything of Deinze. There didn't seem to be anything from the vicinity of the football ground car park, so we went for a wander, eventually discovering a Carrefour supermarket and slapping together some makeshift cheese sandwiches for lunch, which I'm told is perfectly acceptable behaviour. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm sure there must be something of a town lurking away from the ground, which gives me all the more excuse to return to 'Burgemeester Van de Wiele Stadion', because, my word, what a ground it is.
Our Deinze visit had replaced the original plan of thundering back down the E40 and into France to take in the game at Valenciennes on the Saturday afternoon, and what a replacement it turned out to be. K.M.S.K Deinze had been relegated the previous season, and so find themselves nearing the new campaign as a third tier club in the Belgian pyramid. Their higher standing past was on show, as we were issued a ticket on payment of our ten euro entry fee, and the ground took my breath away.
I'll warn you, the pictures I have on my blog simply do not do the place any justice. My poor smartphone camera simply couldn't deal with it, it's gorgeous. Surrounded by trees, Burgemeester Van de Wiele Stadion is three sides of terracing with a larger main stand across the near touchline. The picture above is taken from the corner of the away end, showing some cracking terracing across what was presumably the old tunnel before the more modern centre was built behind the main stand.
I'll warn you, the pictures I have on my blog simply do not do the place any justice. My poor smartphone camera simply couldn't deal with it, it's gorgeous. Surrounded by trees, Burgemeester Van de Wiele Stadion is three sides of terracing with a larger main stand across the near touchline. The picture above is taken from the corner of the away end, showing some cracking terracing across what was presumably the old tunnel before the more modern centre was built behind the main stand.
Having paid for our tickets, a very reasonable 10 euros for this Belgian Cup third round tie, we wandered behind the near goal and over towards the bar in the corner. It's a cracking set up, allowing for full view of the pitch, whilst you stand on the terrace and sup your beer in the sun. It really is football heaven. Unless, of course, you're small Rob (photographer for the photo to the left and the arty shot further below), who decided after a couple sips that he fancied throwing his drink all over himself, much to the amusement of the rest of our clan and a good 20 or so Belgian locals. |
We spent the first half slowly wandering away from the bar and on to the away terracing, left open for this game as FC United Richelle, a fifth tier side, didn't bring an apparent following that would have warranted any segregation, unsurprisingly. I can imagine Club Brugge or Anderlecht rocking up in town would require a bit more policing. I keep saying it, the away terracing was gorgeous! So much so, we spent the rest of the first half admiring the place from that very position.
From this position, we witnessed probably the closest thing to GBH I'll ever see on a football pitch. From a good 20 yards, the Richelle full-back, who'd spent the first 20 minutes being turned inside out and then backwards again, launched into a challenge not dissimilar to a NASA space launch. He absolutely soared through the winger, taking man, grass and half the terracing with him. Cusack fell about laughing, I hunched in horror and I'm fairly certain Andy's jaw is still on that terracing somewhere. The full-back escaped with a yellow card. |
Our lap around the ground continued until we plumped on a spot behind the goal for the duration of the second half, a position from which we witnessed Steve Bael and Lennart Mertens find the net for the home side in an ultimately comfortable 2-0 victory, despite a late scare when a Richelle effort had to be hacked away before it trickled across the goal line. As I write this, I've learned that Deinze have beaten Wetteren-Kwatrecht in the fourth round of the competition, and have progressed to the next stage against opposition currently unknown.
The journey back to Bruges was 45 minutes of continuous Deinze songs, some genuine, some English chants being adapted for the Deinze purpose. I've got a massive love affair for this club, seriously. I overheard the barman calling us 'crazy English' for being there in the first place, but we will almost undoubtedly return. Burgemeester Van de Wiele Stadion is incredible, we may even have to form an English supporters club...
English Deinze Massive.
Sheridan
English Deinze Massive.
Sheridan