Following hot on the heels of our trip to Berlin in March 2020 came the first COVID-19 lockdown, with watching football in the flesh off limits, let alone travelling abroad to watch football in the flesh; despite this, the Macleods and I continued to pay monthly into our football travel fund and, more than three years later, a not inconsiderable sum was burning a proverbial hole in our collective pocket as we considered the autumnal candidates for, ideally, our first three-game weekender since the legendary jaunt to Heidelberg in 2013
Rebates suggested but summarily dismissed, we agreed on a date ("When is Maidenhead at Barnet?"), and, after much deliberation, complicated by the Germans not confirming the precise dates and kick-off times of their fixtures until much nearer the event, we settled on a trip to Munich; KD making up our minds by booking his flights from Edinburgh without any hesitation!
I got a surprise while finishing my morning cuppa ahead of the short walk to Macleod (M)'s for our 06:15 taxi ride when the doorbell rang (my initial reaction was to blame Macleod [C] for potentially waking up the kids) and an elderly neighbour – suffering with dementia, sadly, it would seem – shook my hand, asked after the family, and said he was always available on the telephone if we needed him; the rest of the morning was more predictable – a frisking for Macleod (M), expensive breakfasts and pints (Tiny Rebel's Florida Squeeze was enjoyable but eye-wateringly sharp!), ground move talk, a take-off delayed by 40 minutes, etc. – although there was also a Mariella Frostrup sighting
Down (or up?) Schillerstraße, a five-minute walk from the Hauptbahnhof, past several strip clubs and kebab shops (and Hotel Drei Löwen – "It's coming home," etc.) to our hotel (Astor), with me and the Macleods setting up shop in the Afghani café opposite – which sold Paulaner, and delicious flatbreads for a relative pittance – to wait for KD's arrival; time spent here, in the sunshine, discussing hot topics such as conflict in the Middle East (a young German woman on our flight had, incidentally, been reading The Satanic Verses), was good fun
After mistakenly getting the U-Bahn to Giesing, just about making it off another train at the correct stop (Silberhornstraße), a quick drink in Giesinger Bräustüberl, and KD signing up as a member of FC. Bayern München to purchase online tickets (as you couldn't pay at the gate or the – manned – ticket office), we took our seats at the iconic Grünwalder Stadion for the first match of the trip ... with Bayern II already one goal to the good vs Eintracht Bamburg; 4-0 at half-time and 6-3 the final score, we helped ourselves to a couple of eye-catching match posters from a wall and a tree, respectively, outside the ground – after initial resistance from one fella, who thought we were TSV 1860 fans planning to burn them and post the video to Tik Tok – and headed back into town, with our final round of the night as a foursome a relatively pricey one in the WXYZ Bar on Bayerstraße
You might be unsurprised to learn that Macleod (C) and I were the last men standing (or sitting), albeit in the unfamiliar surroundings of a shisha bar (around the corner from our hotel); as I would subsequently remark on Facebook, "smoking for the first time, aged 42 at a shisha bar in the arse end of Munich, is not – repeat, not – a recipe for success"
Songs from 2003 (including Mundian To Bach Ke by Panjabi MC) played on MTV as Macleod (C) and I supped on recovery cans of MiXery before breakfast (Omelette mit Käse, Schwarzer Tee) in the Iraqi café on the corner; KD and Macleod (M) fed and watered in the more salubrious surroundings opposite, then we headed to the Hauptbahnhof to catch a train to Augsburg
After passing through a lengthy road tunnel with eye-catching graffiti, we turned into a leafy park and walked alongside a clear-running stream (Thames Water has yet to make its way to Germany); Kiosk Sonnenglück was my intended destination, and sitting outside here – drinking pints of Dunkel and eating Schnitzel rolls (superb!) in fair weather and with fine scenery – was even better than I'd envisioned #bucolic
The away supporters' bus arrived at the nearby ground at the same time as us, albeit we didn't have countless vehicles with flashing lights and a truly astonishing number of riot police for company! EUR 8.00 each to get in – the same price as the previous night's game, in the same division, although this time you could buy at the ticket office
Understandable guffaws as SV Wacker Burghausen equalised with a hilarious OG (reminiscent of the one that Paul Robinson conceded for England vs Croatia back in the day), but it was 2-1 at the interval and a deserved 3-1 win for Augsburg II at full time; I think we all liked Rosenaustadion, while KD commented that the referee was the fattest he'd seen since playing amateur football in Dumfries
Riegele WirtsHaus for post-match beers, watching open-mouthed as the thirty or so away fans – who looked less like football hooligans than us – were given a police escort to the station entrance opposite; Maidenhead were losing at Barnet when we entered but 2-1 up as we left, the sad news of Sir Bobby Charlton's passing mitigated by sublime pints of Dunkel and the attempted humour of the bar manager (who presented us with paper straws when, with a train to catch, our second round consisted of four half-measures)
Deutsche Bahn ist Scheiße is what I'd heard on the grapevine, a surprising assertion but one seemingly backed up by the fact that – as news filtered through of an equaliser for Barnet, and Macleod (M) bought us sweets from the vending machine on the platform – our train was late; things continued to unravel on the buffet car, as we learned that James Durkin had overruled an offside decision from his Assistant to award Barnet an injury-time winner, and my mobile phone's data stopped working ...
Arsenal's late goals vs Chelsea (or, perhaps more specifically, my reaction to them) – as we watched in Bridge Bar & More on Trappentreustraße, ending up in there by chance after mistakenly getting on a tram heading in the wrong direction – put KD in a similar funk to Macleod (M), who hadn't been cheered by Leeds' comeback win at Norwich; the general mood was subsequently not helped by an Uber ride to the wrong sports bar (i.e. not Stadion an der Schleissheimerstrasse) and an inexplicable drunken argument over *checks notes* Panathinaikos
Yours truly and Macleod (M) got separated from the others and, with my data still not working, headed in the wrong direction (again) to a restaurant/ bar on Schmellerstraße – drinking from ceramic tankards and chatting with a fella who used to work for Rolls Royce in Derby – rather than to the Paulaner Bräuhaus, as agreed; Macleod (C) was understandably irked, particularly as our arrival back at the hotel was delayed still further by a stop for dinner (chicken shawarma and chips – delectable – at the Iraqi place), but Macleod (M) was able to explain the genuine mistake/ lack of technological assistance, so the reconciled Macleod (C) and I headed back out ... and not to the shisha bar this time!
Songs from 2004 (including Numb/Encore by Jay-Z and Linkin Park) played on MTV as Macleod (C) and I supped on recovery cans of MiXery before breakfast in McDonald's on Karlsplatz, and, after meeting with KD and Macleod (M), heading to the Hauptbahnhof for our latest run-in with an unhelpful ticket machine – this one wouldn't accept payment for an eye-wateringly expensive journey on the ICE; so, as KD queued for a ticket to join a queue for human assistance, and the rest of us stood (slightly) hungover in the sunshine outside the ticket office, Macleod (M) took the executive decision to buy tickets for the regional train, saving us a whopping EUR 65.00 each!
Uncomfortable would best describe the journey that followed: cramped seats, no buffet car (we were all parched), patchy internet (as KD struggled but ultimately managed to buy match tickets), and we had to listen to some Finnish fella chat up a couple of German girls – hanging off his every (perfect English) word – with, as KD noted, seemingly killer lines such as "I shouldn't tell you this, but ... "
No option, upon our belated arrival in Nuremberg, but to get a taxi to the ground (although there did seem to be a surprising number of home and away fans lingering around the Hauptbahnhof as the 13:30 kick-off loomed); after an indirect route, more chicanery ensued when the QR codes on our match tickets didn't scan, and we were encouraged to enter by crawling underneath the barriers!
Disinterested shrugs from several of those wearing high-vis vests as we tried in vain to find Section 34 as required; we probably could've stayed where we were, close to the away fans, but ultimately circumnavigated almost the entire ground – and had to be let out and readmitted – before we made it to our EUR 51.00 seats ... with Hertha BSC already one up!
A decent game of football finished 3-1 to Der Club – and featured a missed penalty, an OG, and two red cards (my first live experience of VAR) – before an unplanned and surreal post-match visit to Zeppelinfeld (people playing roller hockey and with remote control cars in front of the Zeppelinhaupttribüne), an absolutely heaving and delayed train back to the city centre ("Deutsche Bahn ist Scheiße" – or words to that effect – chanted en masse), a tasty meal in the quaint surroundings of Fränkische Weinstube im Handwerkerhof ("rustic Franconian hangout"), and, after checking that there were regional trains back to Munich, a beer in Bocksbeutel-Stube im Pillhofer (where I got told off, by an attractive barmaid, for some Hertha fans chanting loudly in the toilets); the return journey on the train was even more tortuous than the one earlier in the day, but at least we had (1) seats again and (2) a carryout on this occasion #ItsAMixery
Years ago, there was a cracking little pub – with a tree in the middle – near the Hofbräuhaus that I think all of us have been to at various times, but I couldn't find any reference to it online, and we couldn't locate it on our final night; instead, after an abortive visit to the aforementioned tourist trap, and a couple of rounds of nondescript beer in the near-deserted Irish pub opposite, a strange little fella resembling a leprechaun but supposedly from Warrington, directed us round the corner to another Irish pub that he said was packed with punters singing karaoke (badly) and watching the NFL ... it sounded too good to be true, but it wasn't! (OK, so it wasn't great, but our visit to Kilians prolonged and enlivened what would've otherwise been an early and relatively quiet night.)
Macleod (C) and I had packed, checked in with Lufthansa (my data was working again), and watched Mark Williams vs some Chinese fella in a replay of a match in the English Open snooker on Eurosport by the time KD and Macleod (M) had risen and made their way to a wasp-infested Café Maurener for breakfast; afterwards, we bade farewell to KD – whose (ultimately delayed) flight to Edinburgh wasn't until the evening – and caught a train to the airport
On our exit from the terminal on Friday, I'd noticed a food van aeroplane called Smokey Joe's, presumably named after the legendary Maidenhead nightspot; naturally, we headed there for final sausages and beers, as workmen nearby began to erect wooden stalls for the upcoming Christmas market ("That time of year already")
Nothing much to report about our journey from this point: I remembered to buy some duty-free chocolate for the kids, the flight was on time and not full up (allowing us to spread out, as invited, at the back of the plane), and the Bayern II vs Eintracht Bamburg match posters made it home unscathed – keep your eyes peeled for one of them, and a 1. FC Nürnberg scarf, in the bar at New York Road
Decent trip, in summary, although I think all of us were left somewhat underwhelmed by Munich; in its defence, I should note that our hotel – not located in the best part of town – was (1) chosen primarily for logistical reasons and (2) relatively inexpensive
Anyway, another #ThreeGameWeekender next year?
Yes, why not; whenever we're away to Barnet! ;-)
The urgent list of post-Munich chores for me included taking the car to get new tyres fitted and buying more dry food for the cat, so whilst someone at Maidenhead Tyres worked on the former, I walked to Pets at Home to sort the latter – said walk taking me through Braywick, the proposed site of New York Road; cue photos and a Twitter thread
Unusual train journey for me – changing at Ash rather than North Camp and Ash Vale – to Aldershot, but it only took an hour and ten minutes (or thereabouts); I was supping a can of Thatcher's Haze, as CJ – my old work buddy – busied himself at a computer station in his bedroom, ahead of his clock-off at 17:30
Enjoyable, chewing the fat with CJ over pints of Laines Brew Co.'s Source Pale Ale, sat outside the Crimea (about a minute's walk from his flat); later joined by a horde of Magpies off the supporters' coach organised by MUSA 3.0, which prompted me to seek out Chicago Mag for some photos
Scintillating attacking football from the away side saw us take a 2-0 lead inside 21 minutes (we had led by the same score in this fixture last season); "Zimba's on fire, your defence is terrified!" is not a chant that I expected to hear in 2023/24, if at all!
Doubts about both of Aldershot's first-half goals, within minutes of each other, with video technology required to conclusively prove whether either went over the line before being cleared; more obvious to everyone was the second yellow card not given to Coby Rowe – the fact that he was subbed shortly afterwards, at the break, probably tells you all you need to know about Matthew Russell's dereliction of duty #YourNameWillGoOnTheList
And again! Joe Haigh this time, subbed immediately after escaping a second yellow card for some inexplicable reason; make no mistake, Maidenhead United would've been down to nine men if the roles were reversed (see Barnet, the previous Saturday, for proof), and those extra players would've made a big difference as we began to tire, with only three outfield subs and having been the better side, IMO, up until the Shots going ahead for the first time thanks to a well-worked goal, finished by the impressive Lorent Tolaj
Yours truly was the first to recognise, on the walk to the MurdoMobile ahead of the drive home, that this loss, combined with results elsewhere, meant the Magpies now propped up the table; tough to take – after another generally positive display but undeserved defeat – and not helped by Tommy Widdrington's ("Who's the w*nker with the tie?") unnecessarily classless, post-match celebrations in front of the 103 noisy away fans #YourNameWillAlsoGoOnTheList
https://t.co/zkZQTk4y6i pic.twitter.com/7oCF7CMjKB
— ɢᴏ ᴍᴀᴅ ᴏʀ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴄᴀʀɪɴɢ (@gomadstopcaring) October 20, 2023
