This year marks my 30th anniversary of heading to watch fitba in the flesh. It is thirty years since the aroma of cigars and Bovril first skelped my nostrils as I walked up the stairs at the rear of the Merkland Road End. Three decades since I first experienced the collective outburst of elation of a goal celebration reverberate around a stadium (cheers Jazzer). An enraptured yet slightly tentative six-year-old me got his fitba wings in 1991. The period in between then and now has flown in, but this hasn’t stopped my cramming in multitudes in the ensuing years.
Since that day I have followed the Dons home, away and abroad, but I have also spread my wings a bit too. I suppose you could say I have gone through phases. Starting at the Dons at home only for the first few years and ending up where I am in life now. Which incidentally is the most mirthfullest period to date and it is Aberdeen free too. I supposed this period could be classed as the “hanging out with Wee Man plus more phase”. We rake about the country and sometimes others together and I get my own personal beer fuelled solus adventures thrown into the mix now and again. Fitba has transformed for me over the years and morphed into many chapters but again I can categorically state I wouldn’t change a thing about how life just now. (That goes for the good stuff away from fitba too)
A couple of anniversaries are coming up for me on top of the three decades. The 16th of February marks my last cross water sojourn. This was the excellent encounter between Vitesse and Heerenveen. Then a couple of weeks after it will be two years since I chucked my season ticket and imposed a Pittodrie banishment on myself which led to this fitba utopia I currently find myself in with Wee Man. The realization of these dates has got me reminiscing about a lot as that’s all we can do at the moment given the state of the world. Add to this the tedium of being stuck at work for three months has also got me thinking about stuff. This hitch away has also seen me asked by a colleague what my favourite game away from Aberdeen has been. All this added together takes me to another inane blog piece. My five top neutral games. (Ten was the plan but I would bore you to tears even more so).
The answer to the question asked by my work mate is an no brainer and it has an earlier blog piece to itself. Forfar West End v Tayport in 2019. Sublime stuff at Strathmore Park. The other four were tough to decide. There are a few that narrowly miss out. Shotts Bon Accord 3 v 4 Blantyre Victoria 2019 was a barnstormer, played in a glorious spring sunshine at a superb ground in Hannah Park. When I was in my early Highland League days, I witnessed Peterhead beat Cove r*****s 8-0 at the old Recreation Park. Still the best HFL performance I have witnessed to this day. Aarau 3 v 5 Luzern from my Swiss invasion that also featured the soon to be mentioned Young Boys game was one of the most open games I have seen in my life but has just been pipped by a game up the road. The North of Scotland Cup final last season Between Brora r*****s 3 v 2 and Inverness Caley Thistle was excellent in that it was fitba versus cloggers and bullies with the fitba triumphing. Staying with Caley, their home replay in the Scottish Cup in February ‘19 v rivals Ross County was excellent and ended 2-2 with the home side winning on penalties. To add to this end to end cracker, Wee Man had the extra bonus of meeting Lionel Nessie. The Netherlands has chucked up a couple with the pre mentioned Vitesse v Heerenveen match. Heerenveen were again involved in an end of season dead rubber with VVV which ended in an action packed 2 v 2. Quality viewing from two teams playing for nothing.
Anyway, here they are in chronological order …………………………
Wick Academy 2 v 2 Brora R*****s
Harmsworth Park, Highland League, 2/4/16
Harmsworth Park, the furthest Highland League ground from me by quite some distance at a 190 miles door to door. As part of my Highland League hike it had to be ticked off and with Wee Man away on last minute other business, I had the day to myself, what actually turned into me myself and the guts of ten hours driving. With my last-minute removal of fatherly duties, I checked the fixtures all over Scotland. But there was only one place I was going. Caithness for the derby (I don’t find it to be a derby as there are around 50 miles between them two). But I had heard good things about this rivalry in the past, so it made sense to use this fixture to get Harmsworth under my belt.
After throwing together a couple of sandwiches and a flask of coffee I was off. The sun was shining putting any doubts about the game to the back of my mind after a wet week leading up to it. I knew Wick was a trek but because It was at such short notice, I didn’t even think to look up how far it actually was, I just jumped in the car at 9.30 and held chapping. It’s a great drive on the eye at times with some stunning scenery and the incredibly bendy Berriedale Braes. On the patience it’s not much cope with getting stuck behind lorries, old people, and tractors extremely common place. With only a quick stop in a layby for food and a squint at the Beatrice Platform in the Moray Firth whyI had been on it a just few months prior) I reached Wick at 2pm.
With nothing much else to do I entered so I could read my programme with a coffee in the sun and do something I am not in a habit of, see a warmup. As I read the programme, I noticed the significance of the game for the Cattachs after studying the league table. Doing the maths, it was shit or bust. A win was as good as imperative. Anything less would all but hand the title to their namesakes Cove who they were on equal points with but ahead on games by two. Also, while reading the programme I noticed the match was sponsored by “A Stag Do”. I love the Highland League.
As kick off approached I was stunned by the size of the crown, there was easily 1,000 in Harmsworth. The game started and Brora came flying out the traps and were in the lead after only six minutes when Dale Gillespie found himself with the easiest of tap ins off a rebound from close range. The visitors clearly in the mood created numerous chances with wee winger Andy Greig running Academy ragged. The home side were hardly in the game and didn’t trouble Martin in the Brora goal for the whole of the first half barring a couple of simple catches. The away end was noisy and had the air of a group who thought this was to be a routine win and Gillespie netting a second with a header from close range added to this and in the process setting off the piper who conducted the songs. The Wick defence were non-existent allowing the r******s man the freedom of Caithness to nod home. Brora were baying for blood and continued to create chances and McCarthy in the home goal was forced into two great saves before the half was out.
Things got worse just after the break for the home side when Allan was sent off for some retribution and handbags with MacLean who had just went through his team mate. Did he strike the Brora man’s face? Possible, but I was not sure from my vantage point. Off he trotted killing any hope for Wick. Or so we thought. But as fitba cliches go, this galvanised Wick who got the ball in the net soon after when Richard McCadie hung in the air like Eric Black to stick his header past Martin. The 1000+ crowd raised its din tenfold and got right behind their team. Even as a neutral I found myself swaying in the Wick direction as I fancied witnessing the unlikeliest of comebacks. It was well and truly game on. Wick were taking the game right to Brora to an extent you forgot the home side were at a disadvantage. The comeback happened when MacGregor tapped in late on at the back post after some cracking play form Sam Mackay (who was ace all match). The home supporters were delirious and goaded the travelling support who could only hold their heads in their hands. The piper had been silenced. Hopes of a third league title on the bounce had been snuffed out and by their “local” rivals of all teams. The vast majority of Harmsworth Park was bouncing. The final whistle went, it was confirmed, Wick had destroyed their nearest rivals title aspirations. I have a feeling there was to be a few beers had in Wick after.
For a neutral I couldn’t have asked for more, atmosphere, tough tackling, unlikely story, great crowd, sending off, friendly locals and a title dream up in smoke. This was a Highland League classic and easily the most entertaining match I had been lucky enough to witness in my years watching the division.
The Highland League, or as I proclaim, the best league on earth.
Borussia Dortmund 8 v 4 Legia Warsaw
Westfallenstadion, Champions League, 22/11/16
As I sat on the red eye train to the heart of Germanys industrial area I couldn’t help thinking about how much I enjoyed the previous days game(Ajax 5 v 0 NEC) and how Dortmund v Legia had a lot to live up to. If only I knew what was coming. First thing was first though, I had business to take care of in Essen.
Once in Dortmund on the Monday evening, I headed to check into my hotel which happened to be down the street from a bar flying Dortmund flags outside. Maybe a chance to get some local fitba chat and a few beers I thought. This was to be a complete non-event due to the staff to punter ratio being 4:1. But with the football chat at a disappointing minimum I was assured that if I was back the following night it would be a party and I was shown photos and videos of the previous Saturdays pre match piss up, it looked impressive and very rowdy (the after party was probably better as they beat Bayern Munich 1-0) so like a good boy I retired to my hotel with a wee pick n mix of untried and unheard of tinnies.
Once finished in Essen on the Tuesday, I headed into the city straight from the train as I thought surely if I head to a bar on match day, I might meet some fitba fans. If you have never been to Dortmund it turns out it is weird, there are no bloody pubs in the city centre. By none I mean none and trust me, I looked hard. This to me was surprising considering it was once the brewing capital of Germany. There are however two traditional restaurants at each end of the main street. After a few pints and some delightful German cuisine in both I was still yet to see a yellow and black piece of clothing anywhere bar the club shop. I was beginning to doubt the game was that night. As the sun started to set, I decided to dump my bag at the hotel and head to the bar from the previous night. I walked in at 6pm local time (almost three hours before KO) and there were the same four staff from the previous night but instead of just me there were an elderly couple in the corner. I stayed an hour and gave up and decided to toddle off to the stadium.
As the glow of the floodlights began to fill the above the gargantuan yellow girders jutting out from each side of the ground came into view, and as if from out of nowhere there was yellow and black everywhere, thousands of punters filled the pavements as if they had teleported themselves there. Unlike in Amsterdam where there are bars all the way up to the ground the Westfallenstadion (not using its modern day sell out name) has vendors everywhere, sausage vendors, beer vendors, pretzel vendors, burger vendors, more beer vendors and of course merch vendors but it has its own charm about it, people standing about having a good time, supping a few beers while having a blether. On the adjacent grass some kids having a kick about while their dad has a swift pint before the game. It was here I finally got some fitba chat with a guy around ages with me called Topp. We talked about Dortmunds season, Aberdeen, and the scourge of German fitba RB Leipzig and mostly the fact the whole of Germany hates them. He even went on to say he would rather Bayern won the league than those “fucking bastards”. So that shows the country wide loathing they have amassed in their short (but longer than sevco) seven and a bit year history. After a few “weiss biers” with Topp (who was a topp man for the record) I was directed to my gate and we said our “auf wiedersehens”.
When buying my ticket, I deliberately got my seat in the “nord tribune”. The reason, so I could face the famous “Yellow Wall” or “die sudtribune”. I wanted to see it rather than experience it and what a sight it is, bigger than Pittodrie for domestic games at twenty-five thousand and completely standing but disappointingly, railed seats are used for international and Champions League. It is steep as fuck, as is the rest of the ground which I imagine can be intimidating for opposition players. It really must be seen as describing it just doesn’t do it justice. Unfortunately, there was none of the huge displays the locals are famed for on the night as there has been in the past for Champions League matches; this was maybe down to the damp squibbishness of the match. Dortmund had walloped Warsaw 6-0 in Poland and had already qualified prior to this. But there was an interesting display which read “Fuck You UEFA Mafia, Football Is Nothing Without us Fans”. This was to do with the new Champions League set up that was potentiallyon its way, which funnily enough Dortmund will go straight into if they are top four in the Bundesliga, so I found this to be a decent show of solidarity from fans that will benefit from this obscene bullshit. Not that it will affect the Dons any time soon however.
The game itself will not only be never forgotten by me but the history books as it’s the highest scoring game in the Champions League ever and most likely forever. Once the Champions league anthem and rendition of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” (gads, fucking gads) were out the way it was game time and I can only say it was outstanding entertainment. How can I squeeze it into a few words.0-1, 1-1, 2-1, 3-1, 3-2, 4-2, 5-2 and that was only half time? Shinji Kagawa was running the show with a double and a brace of assists. Marco Reus was in on the act and had notched a double also. Legia’s Alexsander Prijović also got in on the act and had a double by the break. I was literally rubbing my eyes in disbelief, had I had too many beers with Topp? Once the second half got under way every time there was a break on the crowd were on their feet cheering for more and that went for Warsaw when they broke too. Everyone seemed to know that the events unfolding in front of them were something exceptional in the making. The second half was dull in comparison with only the five goals. Hats off to twenty-eight players on show. I will doth my hat extra specially to Kagawa who was the maestro behind most of Dortmund’s play and id go as far as putting his shift as one of the best performances I’ve seen in the flesh, definitely a 10 in Champ Manager. Yes, this had the feel of an exhibition match, but I can safely say I won’t see anything like it again. One stat from the game I was surprised about, twelve goals yet no hattrick, but on the other hand there were three braces, this itself surely being a rarity. I’ll take that over a hattrick as id already got one at Ajax two days prior. Nine scorers in total is not too shabby either
Football at its craziest that’s for sure.
Young Boys 3 v 2 Thun
Wankdorf, Swiss Super League, 5/4/27
As part of a Swiss tour I whisked myself to Bern as one of the four cities I was to visit. What a choice too. The place immediately became a favourite of mine. Like the whole country in general had become in the previous couple of days in Aarau and Basel. I had two days in this magnificent city visiting points of interest such as I decided to seek out all the famous Hans Gieng fountains. There are eleven in total (I think). The Pfeiferbrunnen (Piper), Shutzenbrunnen (Marksman), Simsonbrunnen (Samson) to name a few. But there is one the topped the rest Kindlifresserbrunnen. Creepily meaning The Child Eater. A truly disturbing ogre type that is biting the head off a baby while holding his next two victims. It is so bizarre I bloody love it. My time in the city also saw me visit some great museums such as the Bernisches Historiches with a floor dedicated to Einstein. Speaking of him I also visited Einsteinhaus prior to heading to the fitba on the Saturday. Which is as it says on the tin, is Einstein’s old house. Walking about the old town is a good experience as there are some stunning buildings on show. Other worthwhile sites included the Church of the Holy Ghost, Zytglogge, walks over the Kornhausbruke and Nydeggbruke complete with stunning views. Munsterplatz is also worth a visit. A fabulous gothic city which I cannot recommend highly enough
Saturday evening finally came around at the Wankdorf. Given my hotels proximity to the fitba I noticed out my window there was a crowd gathering at the ground. I decided to nip down the road early to see what the atmosphere around the stadium was like. There were quite a number of people sitting having beers and bratwursts in and around the concourse outside. The adjacent bus station was shipping in a lot of supporters too. I grabbed a beer from one of the temporary bars set up and started to flick through my programme which pretty much fit in the palm of my hand. By far the smallest programme I have seen. As I was doing so, I couldn’t help but notice there were a group of guys staring at me. Eventually one came over and asked, “Aberdeen yeah?”. The tourie had worked its magic again. Then I was asked “here to see the game yeah?” which in all honesty was quite clear as I had Young Boys Scarf on and was twenty yards from the Wankdorf leafing through the match programme. Then he gave me some essential info. He told me that once I finished my expensive beer (7 quid it cost) I should head to the supermarket under the stadium and buy cans then come back and “hang” with them. This advice was great as I got five cans at under a pound each. As asked, I came back to meet them. Turned out they were a really affable bunch and part of the Ultras set up. We chatted and I explained that I had heard of Young Boys a long time ago. 1993 at Pittodrie when Scotland drew one each in Andy Roxburgh’s last stand to be exact. This because the Swiss end had a giant Young Boys flag tied to the fence in the South Stand. I bent the truth a little and told them that was the reason I was there. Yes, I had always remembered the flag, but did it have a bearing on this trip, possibly subconsciously but most likely I was embellishing the truth. The dudes loved this. This made me an instant friend. I was given beers and offered to join them in the Ultras end, but as I have an aversion to sitting behind a goal I passed on the opportunity. Our conversation led to talking about the similarities between the clubs we support. We were both good in the 80s and it was around the same amount of years since we had won the title. We are much poorer than the team with the stranglehold on the title. There was a bond with these guys. When it came match time, they told me to wait in the same place and they would meet me for a few beers at the hotel which was an offer I did take them up on before they headed out for a Saturday on the beer. With an early train to Luzern for me I stayed put and had an earlyish night.
The Wankdorf (or Stade de Suisse to give it its corporate name) is a beauty of a Stadium. My seat was in the top tier, but you still can access the bottom tier. I had a quick wander about prior to kick off. I didn’t matter where I was the view was great. It also seems to be an optical illusion. It looks far bigger than the thirty-two thousand capacity. One thing that lets it down is the plastic pitch. But as a stadium it is great. I was lucky enough to be treated to a superb game fitting of such an outstanding venue too. YB came back from two down to take the points. They should never have been down as prior to Thun scoring the home side missed three glorious chances very early on. But to be fair this didn’t faze Thun and by the tenth minute they were two nil up. The opener coming from a placed header from Fassnacht which was aided by poor defending. A second came three minutes later via an absolute banger from Sorgic. On the half volley from fifteen yards he howitzered the ball to an inch of its life into the keeper’s top right corner. No goalkeeper would have kept this out. YB were never out of this game and managed to claw one back before the half via another fantastic hit courtesy of Sulejmani. The playmaker stepped up and arrowed a free kick into the bottom corner from full thirty yards. This setting up the second half nicely. Midway in the second period Thun chucked their lead in unfortunate circumstances, a shot was fired in and diverted up and over his own keeper by Burki. This got the crowd and home teams tails right up and the three points were to stay in Bern after a fantastically placed header from Sanogo who was beyond the front post at point of contact and expertly steered the ball into the top corner off the post beating the defender on the line and the keeper. Headers don’t come much better.
A top-notch game for a neutral and it goes without saying for the YB fans. Another five goals added to the twelve I had already witnessed on my Alpine adventure also couldn’t be sniffed at. A fantastic way to sign off from my new-found favourite city. The capital city of my newfound favourite country.
Forfar West End 4 v 4 Tayport
Strathmore Park, East of Scotland Consolation Cup, 1/5/19
To be honest I can’t see many people from Aberdeenshire bothering going to watch Forfar West End v Tayport in the Consolation Cup on a Wednesday night. I think I even questioned myself. Ahead of us was one-hundred-and-forty-mile round trip while many others would have chosen to sit in front of the box watching the Barcelona v Liverpool in the Champions League. Not us. What a decision it turned into. Quite simply, the best game I saw in 2018/19 season by a country mile and easily the best to date. I would have paid thirty quid to watch this it was that good. A fiver and a turnstile lift for Wee Man was all this epic cost.
Game wise, to start it was rough throughout with tackles flying in everywhere, some better timed than others but it was more than just a battle. Refreshing to see such commitment given this was an end of season kick about. In the opening few minutes Tayport’s Robertson had a couple of positive efforts and tested Morrison in the Forfar goal, who was alert enough to pull off a great save from the second strike. Unfortunately for the home goalkeeper, the resultant corner led to opening goal from Mackie who blasted in a half volley at the near post. Tayport smelled blood and continued to force the game and that man Mackie was in amongst the action when he thundered an effort off the bar. As the half wore on West End found their feet and got more and more into the game and were eventually awarded a penalty for a daft foul by the ‘port defender. No complaints were made by the visitors on or off the pitch. Batchelor stepped up and Tayport’s number one Jack Shaw did what he is paid to do and pulled off a decent save to keep his team in front. However, this wasn’t to be his best save of the night though.HT- 0-1
After the interval due to the mass of fouls in the first half, I decided to count the infringements but didn’t get a chance as the hosts had the ball in the net to level up almost straight from the restart. Montgomery on hand to head home from a cross from the left. Once centre was taken, I started my count and I got to thirteen which in fact led to a Tayport penalty. Not bad for twelve minutes. The penalty wasn’t a surprise because after the equaliser went in, Tayport were continually on the attack and West End couldn’t cope while continually on the back foot. 2-1 the ‘port, Robertson with the successful kick.From centre I saw possibly the greatest save I ever seen in the flesh. This isn’t just hyperbole to prove a point. This genuinely was one of the best things I have seen on a fitba pitch. Seeing the keeper at the edge of his box West End shot from kick off, the hit was not a lobbed effort but more arrowed at pace, this sending the keeper scrambling back toward goal and with maybe two yards to spare the ball was over the Tayport number one but he miraculously dived towards goal, body fully horizontal and threw a haymaker at the ball from what could have only been between a yard from his line and almost under the bar and incredibly managed to divert it over the bar and out of the ground. Truly spectacular stuff. If that was in the jamboree down south or the World Cup the media would have been gushing for weeks. To make the save better, the resulting corner was cleared and Tayport rapidly countered and won a free kick and from there made it 3-1. Question marks over the home sides keepers’ angles had to be raised and were by a Tayport fan who just so happened to be standing next to the father of the West End custodian. The starting off some handbags “that’s my fucking son you prick”, “what the fuck you saying about him”, “ill knock your head off” to which the Tayport punter replied cool as you like “might be an idea to teach him the basics of keeping. Near post, ouch” ending the “discussion” on that harsh but fair statement.
Given the time on the clock Wee Man and I started to shuffle toward the exit as the minutes were whittling down but West End who were clearly down but not out grabbed a second through a header across the goal. Whether this went in via a heavy deflection or even an OG is a possibility, but my view was not clear enough to be positive. At this point we stopped to see if an equalizer would come and it did via a ninetieth minute stonewall penalty. Dispatched by George who didn’t buckle under the pressure. Surely the game over now with a draw being the result. But in typical fashion of this too and fro game, on ninety-three minutes, Gill tapped in from close range and remarkably Tayport had won it with a fourth. Or so everyone had expected. The piley on celebration suggested the Tayport players thought so too. But again, there was another twist to this classic encounter and West End went straight up the park with McMahon smashing home an unlikely fourth. This leaving Tayport to rue some poor defending that cost them the result.
What a finish to a game maybe only fifty people were lucky enough to witness. Eight goals, only half of the eight scored with five minutes to go, two teams clearly wanting to win, fouls galore(no sending offs surprisingly), three penalties, the greatest save I think I have ever seen and free crisps on a cracking spring night. What’s not to like about that. Stick your English mercenary jamboree and Champions League. I’d rather go to the Juniors. Absolutely fantastic viewing and just goes to show you don’t need multi-million-pound players or over inflated egos to create top class entertainment. It’s an argument I have with everyone who buys into the whole ethos that the best players in the world create the best fitba. Utter pish if you ask me and this magnificent game of fitba proves it. Superlative generating brilliance.
Twente 2 v 2 Cambuur
De Grolsch Veste, Eerste Divisie, 3/5/19
This match was a time filler in all honesty. With booking myself away from Scotland to ensure I was as far away from Aberdeen as I could be. This because celtic were set to win the league at Pittodrie and most likely in the usual meek performance fashion we have become accustomed to in these modern times against them. This is why I found myself en route to Oberhausen. The trip to North Rhine-Westphalia was to see the main event of a Rot-Weiss derby between Oberhausen and Essen. What a choice of time fillers it was to end up.With a Friday to burn and looking at the fixtures, I noticed this game. Being close to Germany and easily trainable to Oberhausen in the morning, I was quids in. Any Dutch fitba is good in my book.
Being in Enschede, heading to the Grolsch brewery for the tour had to be the first port of call. Which it was and much to my dismay I was to find that the days early English tour wasn’t happening and the next one would interfere with the football. The day started off on somewhat of a downer, but I needed not to worry.
As a backup plan I decided just to wander round the city and see the sites popping in for a beer here and there. Something which is not hard to do. You will never go thirsty of hungry in this chilled-out city. I clocked up a good few miles checking out the sites finally resting next to the Grote Kerk which is found in a square surrounded by bars and restaurants. A great area to grab food and a drink. I killed a couple of hours speaking to various barmen and locals until I thought about a move up to the ground. Interestingly most I spoke to thought relegation was on the cards from the Eredivise the following season as the team was made up of loans and there were real money worries at the club.
The game was billed as the title party with Twente already being champions and heading back to the Eredivisie. There was to be the trophy presentation and the celebrations post-match. The atmosphere around De Grolsch Veste was clearly one with a buzz. After a tough few years, the local Enschedeërs had something to shout about. What has now become a common occurrence in the Netherlands the supporters bar was to be visited and it was zestful to say the least. Smiles adorned the faces of the punters one and all. The (shite) techno tunes were pumping, sporadic outbursts of singing were emanating from every corner and of course the Grolsch was flowing.
As I took my seat in VAK-P I couldn’t help but notice the ground is very reminiscent of Old Trafford. A tidy place it is. I was also reminded of the family stand that used to be next to the old Beach End at Pittodrie. With the opposite corner from me housed the family section. The way it sat in the corner just brought back old memories to me. As I sat taking in the ground and atmosphere, I noticed the guy to my left was looking to speak to me. Eventually he did and he was great company throughout the game. He saw my hat and it acted as the usual icebreaker. A very knowledgeable guy on his club’s history and Dutch fitba in general. We never even told each other our names but we got each other beers and chatted away. This was not the first time something similar had happened in the Netherlands (off the top of my head see Willem II, Go Ahead Eagles, NEC, Feyenoord and visiting side Cambuur when I made the journey north). A friendly country which makes me continually return.The game kicked off and with all hype pre match things went to plan for the hosts and their party plan. Tim Boere put Twente up 1-0 in five minutes lifting the celebratory crowd even more than previously. They went on to dominate the first half and were to double their advantage on around forty mins when best player on the pitch Mohammed Hamdaoui netted. This looked to be game set and match considering the dominance.
The second half started in the same manner. But Twente were not to breach the Cambuur back line. To be fair to Cambuur they had a couple of moments and gained momentum in the game. But 90 minutes were on the clock and Twente looked to be home free and the party started to kick in. Then in an incredible blink of an eye it was 2-2. On 90 minutes Schilder grabbed what looked to be a consolation. However, Cambuur had other plans and dispossessed Twente at kick off and went up the park to equalise through Curaçao international Nigel Robertha. A mad turn of events that were not to end there. Cambuur had a third goal chopped off for offside in the 94th minute. From the other end of the pitch I knew Robertha was onside, my new pal to the left knew it was on. But seemingly the only person to not know it was legitimate was the linesman. It was clear enough from the opposite end of the pitch. After seeing a replay in the hotel bar, it was truly an utterly astonishing decision. One preventing me from seeing one of the greatest and unexpected comebacks I was likely to ever see. The Grolsch Veste went quiet and emptied at the final whistle inclusive of me and I can only guess the party would have only been half full if that. Cambuur well and truly pissed on Twente’s chips