Dai takes a look at his night in Belgium; drinking, singing and celebrating all that is Wales Away.
It’s the morning after the night before. I have just arrived back at work following a two hour drive from Brussels to Den Haag and I’m exceptionally proud of myself for staying awake for the journey. Having about 8 hours sleep across two days is very much less than ideal. In fact, speaking of things that are less than ideal, I’d add the result, the fact it’s raining and I didn’t bring a jacket to work plus the state of my bank balance after the last few days, to that growing list.
Starting in The Hague on Sunday night with my Wales away gang, with a load of pints, the Nations League final and a spirited discussion about the “Swansea way”, who would you bring off the bench to score a goal to save your life as well as some baby Guinness, we had a strong start to the trip. Going to bed at 4am was a terrible decision, knowing we wanted to leave at 10 ish, and having to wake up to walk the dog before leaving. Yet we did it anyway, because, well, why not.
Last time we drove to Brussels I put the wrong address in and we were an extra hour in the car as I loaded a car park somewhere in France. We were about 30 minutes past Brussels before we realised. I’ve not been allowed to forget that one so the address this time was double and triple checked. We arrived, got changed and headed back to the bars of Brussels. I met a few Wales away regulars along the way, whilst cracking on with some strong Belgian lager. One of our group found bottles of 8.5% Guinness export, and let’s say it had a lasting effect. More on that to come.
We propped ourselves up at the square by the Wales away party, organised by Leigh James, which was another rip roaring success. Money raised, many beers drunk and a chorus of Welsh singing organised by a man dressed up as Marouane Fellaini. My Guinness export drinking friend was so drunk at this point he kept spilling his drink onto the table and then scooping it back into the glass, only to respill it, and recycle it from the table once more. In the end, I’m not sure how much of it was drunk and how much ended up on the floor but it was highly entertaining. He proceeded to wander off and get a happy meal only to kick off when he returned because there was no gift in the happy meal. He’s 41.
We sang some more and the new, very catchy “is this the way to California” was the highlight. It was so good to see people joyously celebrating being Welsh, and not causing any trouble and the locals joining in with it. The sight of a confused lady being given a small football to kick into the air, greeted by almighty cheers was as heartening as it was funny. People danced in the sunshine and slowly started to drip into the metro system to travel to the match.
We got squeezed onto a tram and I literally couldn’t move, I was wedged in so much. This was great news for my drunken friend, who was struggling to stand at this point. We were wedged in so tightly that it was the closest he’d come to standing up straight for a few hours. The Wales fans were in fine voice as the commuters filmed us rattling through the Welsh songbook. It was a lively, loud but fun atmosphere. After a change of tram, and a little more space, we were joined by our Belgian counterparts who were more than happy to chat to us and enjoy the live musical performance we gave them. We discussed the line-ups, laughed at each other’s predictions and shook hands before leaving.
Elsewhere, whilst my pal who was frustrated at the lack of a happy meal toy, he was truly annoyed when he realised he’d dropped his phone on the tram. Despite the police holding the tram for him to have a look for it, it was gone and we staggered on to the match, with the realisation of travel details being lost for the next day, starting to dawn. He was dragged into the match (how he was allowed in I’ll never know!) and that’s when the real chaos unfolded.
A shocking start to the match from Wales led to a penalty which was very generously awarded by the very questionable officials. From there Wales imploded a little bit and looked way off the pace. The front foot high pressing football promised by Bellamy seemed the stuff of fantasy compared to the performance. As the half time break approached, Harry Wilson scored from the spot to give Wales a path back into the game, and my god did they take it. A wonderful ball out to Sorba put him in to get his first Cymru goal, the celebrations were wild until VAR muted them. Thankfully the goal was given and we went in search of the equaliser. Thomas again involved as Johnson made it 3-3 and if the second goal was celebrated exuberantly, there isn’t a word for what ensued after the third goal. Pandemonium does it a disservice. A wonderful moment and the exact reason we spend our time and money travelling around to watch our country play. A joyous moment.
But it’s Wales, isn’t it. I joked with the fella in front of me that it would be 4-3 and the joke threatened to become reality at a point, but I thought it would be us who got the 4th, not Belgium. They were hemmed in and couldn’t get out but the more the game wore on the further back we went and afforded them a chance to get back into the match. After one disallowed goal we did not learn our lesson and some abject defending left KDB unmarked at the back post in the 88th minute. More pandemonium, but in the wrong end from a Welsh perspective.
I must admit I did find some of the subs a little baffling as the game wore on – Harris instead of Moore being one and then Rabbi coming on at the end of the match when again Moore would have seemed like the natural fit given the situation. But come what may, scoring 3 goals away from home at the top seeded team is impressive but it must count for something, and here it didn’t. Whilst we are still growing and Bellamy is still finding his feet, there are lessons to be learnt here if Brennan, Kieffer and Sorba are in fact to make it to California.
Post match and the analysis began over a few light refreshments. My Guinness drinker couldn’t help himself and tipped over his own bottle of water just to ensure every drink he’d had that day ended up on a table in Brussels. An uber back to the digs, and a few hours kip before the journey home began.
As I sit here and type this, shattered, morbidly hungover and trying to not constantly fart in my office, the outcome begins to fade and the memories of a great trip once again remain. Wales away is a fantastic thing. My favourite thing in fact. The camaraderie. The chat with the locals. The beers. People asking ‘Are you the guy from that podcast?!’ The funny stories. Seeing the same people as you do on each Wales away trip and exchanging stories of how you got there and which mate had too much the night before. Come what may on the pitch, the opportunity to be with likeminded people, passionately and excitedly celebrating where we are from, our history and heritage is wonderful. I can’t wait to do it all over again. Wales away. I don’t like it. I bloody love it.
Dai – Coleman Had A Dream @ColemanHadADream
A little addendum to this – I am delighted to hear that the fan who fell from the top tier down to the bottom tier close to us is ok. It was genuinely frightening to see that and the thud made when he fell will live with me for a long time. Credit to those who alerted emergency services and the stewards. How he has got away with pretty minor injuries is nothing short of miraculous. Overall, the passage to and from the ground was fine and getting in was well handled and safe. The stadium itself however leaves little room for movement between the rows, and as someone who travels with a fan who has some mobility issues, I do question if the ground is fit for purpose. However ‘over exuberant’ the celebrations were from the fan who fell, there should be no way that something like that is even possible let alone something which actually happened. I hope someone can address this with the Belgian FA or whoever is responsible for safety. Away ends are too often overcrowded and difficult to get around. It was only a matter of time before someone hurt themselves.