Ireland v England. 07/06/15

"That game was enough to make me realise that if I haven't had at least one pre-game beer I don't actually like football"

Rosscommon 2-20 Armagh 1-14. Croke Park.
Saturday 06/06/15.

When you are a regular spectator of Brighton and Hove Albion, the phrase "a great day out ruined by 90 minutes of football" is one that is ingrained in your footballing lexicon - a constantly apt description for 90% of the prattery you will witness going on on the pitch over the course of a season.

It's been particularly prevelant in 2014-15 as the Seagulls survived in the Championship largely because somehow there were three worse teams in it. Twelve shots on target which yielded just one goal from the final eight games meant that rounding off the campaign with an England trip - especially given the way Roy's Boys have played recently - should have been a cause for celebration. We might see a goal.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Yet in Dublin the Three Lions caught Brighton-itis. Whoever reported on the BBC website 14 shots from the visitors with three on target must have been on the strongest hallucinegics available as this was literally as boring as any sort of football can get. Throw in the blanket no sale of alcohol going on across the city and a 1pm kick off on a hot Sunday afternoon and you had an encounter that was marginally less boring than any television show involving Miranda Hart. It really was that bad.

And this was a real shame as - and here comes that phrase - this was a great trip ruined by 90 minutes of football. It involved 33 pints of Guinness across 16 different venues, two different sports in two iconic stadiums and the inevitable marriage proposal to one lucky local lady.

A nice non-partisan plaque to Bloody Sunday at Croke Park

Three Conference-standard hurling cup finals were on offer on the Saturday of Mr Raven, Mr Beddow and Mr McCarthy's arrival in Dublin in front of huge crowds of about 4,000 at Croke Park. After rocking up at the home of gaelic sports, we were luckily handed some complimentary tickets by one friendly local outside and took our place in Europe's third largest stadium for a sport that involved all the best elements of rugby, football, hockey, cricket and quidditch (minus Ginny Weasley).

Croke Park was home to this delightful floodlight

It was relatively easy to pick up the general rules and scoring system although this was no doubt helped by the copious amount of alcohol that was flowing. Hurling it turns out is far more entertaining than a sobering post season international friendly, especially if you are a Rosscommon fan and you get to witness your side score a last minute goal against Armagh to win the prestigious Nicky Rackard Cup, as we did.

Croke Park

The clouds gather over the terracing

The second game featured Fermanagh winning the Lory Meagher Cup against Sligo despite having three men sent off. The rain and cold descended after that so we left before the third and final game of the afternoon got underway for the sanctuary of the pub but having seen a last minute winner and a trio of red cards in just two games, serious consideration will have to be given to sacking off football from next season and starting the McCathy's Hurling Travels blog.

The Rosscommon boys celebrate lifting the Nicky Rackard Cup

Pub sanctuary soon extended from the welcoming Bridge Tavern to the less welcoming Sunset House. This venue had everything you could want from an Irish pub that was clearly not designed to be found by tourists such as ourselves. Deathly silence as two English men ordered drinks - tick. An Irish bloke with no teeth you couldn't understand who looked suspiciously like Barry Chuckle - tick. A shrine to the H Block Hunger Strikers - tick. Somehow, we made it out of there alive.

Barry Chuckle's long lost Irish brother? Complete with background
shrine to the H Block Hunger Strikers

The dream comes true - an Irish fiance

What followed was a wonderful pub crawl encompassing Lloyds, Bowes - where a delightful Irish girl snapped up the opportunity to become engaged although unfortunately I have since forgotten her name - Brogans and The Oak but not even those 16 pints could make the following days visit to The Aviva Stadium anything other than a mind numbingly boring experience. We were in the ground unusually early given that the lack of alcohol on sale anywhere left bugger all to do apart from venturing in to the home of Irish football and rugby and appreciating what sitting in a giant greenhouse must be like.

The Aviva Stadium - or a giant greenhouse?

Inside the Aviva

The entire place is made of translucent plastic which means it is very bright and on a sunny day like this one leaves fans susceptible to sunburn and extreme dehydration, especially in the shallow away end which is open to the elements and encompases only a handful of rows behind one of the goals. The weather, environment and complete lack of atmosphere or interest from anybody present - not helped by no pubs being open - easily made the experience more akin to growing tomatoes out on the pitch and to be honest the action would almost certainly have been improved had Jamie Vardy marked his debut by coming on and helping Wayne Rooney plant some vegetables in the centre circle.

England fans try not to doze off...

England players thank the fans for somehow not falling asleep

Relief at there a) being no lock in for England fans afterwards, and b) finding a Guinness was therefore palpable. After nearly two hours sat out in the sun, I was so thirsty that if you'd offered a glass of Jack Warner's urine I'd have happily drunk it, and this point was hammered home as three pints were gone within ten minutes, shortly followed by another 13 across The Schoolhouse Bar, The Long Hall, The Stags Head, Mercantile Tavern, The Norseman and JW Sweetmans. Unfortunately, the famous Temple Bar wasn't allowing anybody in because somebody in there was singing. Clearly, having a good time wasn't just outlawed at The Aviva.

"Nobody having a good time is allowed in Temple Bar"

Dublin was an absolutely cracking city and Ireland a wonderful place. The bonus of the League of Ireland playing through the summer months means it surely won't be long until a return to the Emerald Isle for some league football is on the agenda. Fingers crossed that that inevitable visit won't come under the "great trip ruined by 90 minutes of football" banner.

And if it is, McCarthy's Hurling Travels might not be such a farfetched idea after all.

Ireland: Keiren Westwood (Shay Given), Seamus Coleman, John O'Shea, Marc Wilson, Glenn Whelan (Harry Arter), Aidan McGeady, James McCarthy (James McLean), Robbie Brady, Jeff Hendrick, Daryl Murphy (Jonathan Walters), David McGoldrick (Shane Long).

England: Joe Hart, Phil Jones, Gary Cahill (Phil Jagielka), Chris Smalling, Ryan Bertrand, Jordan Henderson, Jack Wilshere (Ross Barkley), James Milner, Raheem Sterling (Andros Townsend), Adam Lallana (Theo Walcott), Wayne Rooney (Jamie Vardy).

Italy v England. 31/03/15

"Of course I'm coming for a beer afterwards. Anything to avoid going back to a hostel where I am the only guest and that appears to be run by a geriatic retired mafia boss."

Italy 1-1 England. Juventus Stadium.
Tuesday 31/03/15

Italy is home to many things that I love. Pizza, Ferrari, beautiful women, excessive use of car horn and the best national anthem in the world to name but a few. Yet criminally this was my first ever proper visit to the country that gave us bunga bunga.

We'd all heard the horror stories of football trips to Italy. Stabbings, batton charging police, running battles on the terraces, mopeds being launched and chairs luzzed. "Make sure you pack your running shoes and your stab proof underwear" was the general advice. Do I look like I own a pair of running shoes? And as far as stab proof underwear goes, I know living in Brighton would you'd think make it easily accesible but would it really be necessary?

Snow covered Alps just a ciagrette lighters throw from Turin

Unfortunately for the tabloid headline writers and the doom mongerers among us, no was the answer. Italy v England passed out without so much as a hitch. A few lighters flying through the air when Andros Townsend popped up with his second half equaliser for the Three Lions was about as Football Factory as the visit to Turin got. With this trip taking place on a limited budget, there was disappointment all round that no much needed spare change was lobbed into the away section by the locals.

The trip started and ended in Milan, a short 45 minute or so hop via the very amicable Italian express train service alongside the snow covered alps from Turin. There wasn't s great deal of time to explore Milan before heading to the host city but naturally we found time to cram a couple of beers in.

Look out for rouge minis...

Turin itself was a beautiful place. Situated at the foot of the mountains, it is a mixture of the old and the modern with the arches that The Italian Job made famous in all their glory, minus a plethora of minis running riot around the city.

Having been subjected to weather that was wetter than an otters pocket upon leaving Gatwick, it would have been rude not to take advantage of the balmy sunshine, sitting outside in t-shirt and sunglasses in one of Turin's delightful piazzas drinking refreshing Italian beers. Or at least it would have been had Anticco Cafe not run out of local brew due to the plethora of England fans enjoying their facilities - Becks all round it was.

The "small" pizza which could block a mans
arteries with one moutful

For food, we took the when in Rome - or Turin - approach which meant pizza of course. This was pizza unlike I'd ever seen it; a grossly unhealthy mixture of dough, cheese, bacon, sausage and tomato that was bigger than a car wheel and could clog an artery by looks alone. It was the sort of item that would turn the black hole in NHS funding into whatever a black hole turns into (a quick Google search doesn't throw up the answer to complete that particular analogy so any advice gratefully received if Brian Cox is reading).

Italian entreprenuership at it's best - this chap sells bottles of
beer from a trailer to England fans queuing for the shuttle bus
to the ground. Berlusconi would be proud.

The Italian authorities had laid on a convoy of busses straight to Juventus Stadium for England supporters which after what appeared would be a total cock up actually ran quite smoothly aided by a beautiful blonde police woman on a motorbike. Attempts to find, be arrested by and propose to her after the game were I am afraid to report a failure.

After some pretty stringent security which involved an ID check against name on ticket, a thorough search, another search and then another turnstile check we were into Juventus Stadium. And what a place it is. If you'd missed leg day for the trip then there was no need to worry, the steepness of the stands was such that you got a thorough work out just getting down a couple of rows of steps.

How's that for a steep stand?

The England section

Built on the site of Stadio delle Alpi and opened within the last few years, the top seat in the stadium is just 49m from the pitch thanks to the desire to keep the atmosphere in with the steep rake. Whether it works or not we didn't find out on the night as there were plenty of empy seats - around 1/4 of the stadium was unfilled - among the Italian support with the crowd being a mixture of younger fans and families - a far cry from the passionate locals that pack it out for Juve games. Having said that, when the Tifosi did score and for that brilliant national anthem, the noise generated was loud so when the place is rocking for a Grand Old Lady game it must be quite the sight (added to "must do games list").

Juventus Stadium in all her glory

Two tiered all the way around, it is one of the better new grounds visited particualry for international football. A nice touch is the executive boxes which appear to take the form of conservatories in the middle of the main stand, all rather bizarre.

Conservatories as executive boxes was a novel addition

As far as friendlies go, this was a decent one with Southampton's Graziano Pelle opening the scoring in a pretty dire first half for the Three Lions. Once Roy Hodgson made a raft of second half changes including a tinkering with the formation England were the better side with Townsend's goal securing a draw and sparking wild scenes of celebration despite the friendly nature of the game and the aforementioned opportunity to add to ones lighter collection.

Pints in the Joking Jester with some friendly locals
before moving onto a student night at Lapsus.

The standard lock in happened afterwards and around 45 minutes later we were back on buses and the convoy was off to the city centre, where we found a delightful little pub called Jumping Jester. It was obviously the place to be as we were soon joined by Neil Ashton and some other members of the Sunday Supplement squad, fresh from filing their reports and ready for a manly vodka and lemonade.

One thing they certainly weren't having to go through is the nightmare accomodation situation suffered by the journalists at McCarthy Football Travels. Somehow, I'd managed to book myself into a hostel that appeared to be run by a geriatice former mafia boss and in which I was the only person staying. He also had a penchant for parading around naked. One man in an eight man room in an empty hostel. If that wasn't the premise to be murdered in some sort of horror movie scene then God knows what was.

Only guest in an eight man room in an empty hostel run by
a retired geriatic mafia boss. Somehow, I survived

With that in mind, the aim was to stay out as late as possible which was achieved in stunning style thanks to the nightclub Lapsus' student night going on until 4am. A club full of beautiful Italian students and not one batton wielding police officer in sight. That wasn't the case for all our England supporting friends however, rumours swirling around that the police did clear out one pub full of English for no other reason than that they were bored with the lack of trouble stirred up throughout the day by the visitors.

Turin Cathedral - home to the Holy Shroud

Of course, Lapsus led to a terrible hangover the following day and the recreation of one of the cities great artefacts with the Shroud of Turin being delightfully imitated with the Sick Covered Bath Mat of Turin. Being owned by a former mafia boss, the hostel had obviously seen worse than this modern day twist on an historical relic, which was inspiration enough to go on a Holy items tour before the journey back to England including the resting place of the actual Shroud, the stunning Milan Cathedral and then finally the Church of Saint John the Baptist and then onto the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie when back in Milan, scene of Da Vinci's Last Supper.

Milan Cathedral

Home of the Last Supper

Which was quite ironic, seeing as all the elements (batton charging police, machete carrying locals and a hostel owner who was seemingly more used to dealing with corpses and horses heads than a living, breathing guest) suggested it could have been the scene of my last supper too.

Forza Italia

Italy: Gianluigi Buffon, Giorgio Chiellini (Emiliano Moretti), Matteo Darmian (Luca Antonelli), Andrea Ranocchia, Leonardo Bonucci, Roberto Soriano, Mirko Valdifiori (Marco Verratti), Marco Parolo, Alessandro Florenzi (Ignazio Abate), Eder (Ciro Immobile), Grazian Pelle 1 (Franco Vazquez).

England: Joe Hart, Nathaniel Clyne (Kyle Walker), Chris Smalling (Michael Carrick), Phil Jagielka, Kieran Gibbs (Ryan Bertrand), Phil Jones, Jordan Henderson (Ryan Mason), Fabian Delph (Andros Townsend 1), Theo Walcott (Ross Barkley), Harry Kane, Wayne Rooney.

Attendance: 31,138

Standard Liege v Cercle Brugge. 27/02/15

"The fact this bloke keeps serving us 15% beer shows a blatant disregard for how hammered we are getting."

Standard Liege 1-0 Cercle Bruge. Stade Maurice Dufrasne.
Friday 27/02/15

There are plenty of things that you expect when you go to a game of football. Being surrounded by beautiful women is certainly not one of them. So what on Earth was going on at Standard Liege v Cercle Brugge?

You normally get the odd girl that catches the eye at games on the continent. But this was something else. Even the stewards were stunning for crying out loud. The amount of good looking girls was comparitive to what you find at a wedding where everybody without fail always looks good - even Janet Street Poter probably looked gorgeous walking down the aisle.

Stade Maurice Dufrasne

The amazing standard of lady certainly made for an excellent experience at Liege which was looking far from the case in the hours prior to the game thanks to that old chestnut better known as the hangover. Over 12 hours of strong Belgian beer in Bruges the previous day had left a head that felt like it had been 20 rounds with Mike Tyson but with a fully functioning and remaining ear.

As a result, I'm sure you can imagine just how horrific the two hour train journey down to Liege was. Is there anything more terrible than going backwards on a train that flies around bend after bend while hungover? It turned out there was - a bus journey from the city centre to Stade Maurice Dufrasne in which the driver had no idea of the concept of "slow breaking". And it turned out there was something even worse than that - being given tickets in among the home sides ultras, next to two men with military sized drums and facing two others with megaphones. Poor, poor head.

The moon rises over Stade Liege

How does one get over the said hangover? Cheveux du chien, of course which translates (according to Google) as hair of the dog. After that bus journey from hell, we found two little bars outside of the stadium, one called Cup Cafe which was packed with - you've guessed it - beautiful bar staff and another called Bois d'Avoy which was basically a glorified garage converted into a beer facility.

Bois d'Avroy - the glorified drinking garage

Didn't fancy that? No problem, pick up a crate of beer and join one of the many parties taking place on the steet behind the stadium or on the coaches and buses that had bought fans to the ground. Several drinks later and the perilous state that the previous evening had left yours truly in was beginning to dilapidate.

Grab a beer and join some fans on their bus

Until of course we were inside the towering stands of Maurice Dufrasne. And in among those ultras. Flag waving, megaphone shouting, drum banging, weed smoking, beer swilling, jumping and singing ultras. And guess what - there were even some wonderful women in amongst that rabble. Quite the atmosphere among the Liege faithful.

In with the Liege hardcore

Jupiler et Football!

Stade Maurice Dufrasne is a fine venue, being somewhat reminiscent of The Valley - ironic given former Charlton manager Jose Riga is now in the hot seat. It is three tiered on three sides with the bottom two tiers behind either goal consisting of the mythical rail seating that people are so keen to see in English grounds to allow a return to safe standing. The other stand is a two tiered affair while the ground has a modern feel after being largely rebuilt for Euro 2000. It's aged well like a fine wine.

Rail seating - take note please, Football Association

And good news for the Greeks among us - Maurice Dufrasne is a Euro free building! Like many grounds on this part of the continent, they've done what Syriza can only dream of doing and abolished the single currency in favour of Jetons which can be purchased at a very amicable rate and used to purchase beer and waffles inside the stadium.

Three steep tiers. Now we're talking

The Valley in disguise? Jose Riga will feel at home

With Standard pushing for the title and Cercle battling towards the bottom of the table, this game tested the patience of the home support as they saw their side miss chance after chance after chance with Cercle goalkeeper Olivier Werner doing his best to frustrate Standard right up until the 89th minute when the brilliantly named substitute Ricardo Faty nabbed a late late winner much to the delight of the ultras.

But it wasn't to our delight, missing the goal having left for the three mile journey back into the city with five minutes of normal time remaining. 45 minutes later and we were back settled in a bar around the station, a massive structure that looks more like a spaceship than a public transport hub. It was arguably the best station I've ever seen although it is some way outside of the actual centre of Liege - an area we never managed to find ourselves in which is another convenient excuse for a 

return visit.

Not something from the set of Star Wars - the incredible Liege Station

But back to that question that remains unaswered and I can't shake from my mind. Just why were there so many beautiful women at Stade Maurice Dufrasne? It remains a mystery. Answers on a postcard please.

Standard Liege: Yohann Thuram, Dino Arslanagic (Ricardo Faty 1), Darwin Andrade, Alexander Scholz, Julien de Sart (Jeff Lois), Martin Milec, Geoffrey Mujangi Bia (Jiloan Hamad), Mehdi Carcela, Adrien Tebel, Imoh Ezekiel, Igor de Camacho.

Cercle Brugge: Olivier Werner, Gilles Dewaele, Hans Cornelis, Noe Dussenne, Pierre Bourdin, Tim Smolders, Maarten Martens (Stipe Bacelic-Grgic), Martunis, Junior Kabananga (Richard Sukuta-Pasu), Kristof D'Haene (Jinty Caenepeel), Stpehen Buyl.

Attendance: 24,693