The Piper Must Be Paid

 

You were all warned what would happen when United went cashless and Neighbours was cancelled...

The chaos engine has been turned on and the chain reaction is now spiralling out of control: pumped out of Europe before boys could get their knobs washed, hammered for fun in the league, a centre half pairing who appear to have been caught in the headlights of a runaway train and two keepers who look like they turned up on the same lorry as Ant and Dec in Phoenix Nights...

Corporate Bailout

So the Tam Courts era ended in much the same way that it started: with weeks of rumours circulating about him. Just like his appointment being the worst kept secret in Dundee, his departure was pretty much common knowledge for about 3 weeks. Disappointingly, it didn't seem to take much persuasion either. I was talking to an old BB officer last Sunday who was always a big United fan but surprised me by saying that he'd stopped going a few years ago. He was pretty disillusioned with football in general and United in particular and Courts leaving the way he did saying the club had a provided a stepping stone for him to going to Honved (FFS) had thoroughly pissed him off. He rightly pointed out Jim McLean had never seen United as a stepping stone. We were the only club that was EVER going to promote Courts to head coach since he was a complete nobody he repaid us by bailing out at the first offer. You can't blame supporters for taking great delight in his troubles in Hungary. Ironically, he was just starting to win fans over and I didn't really hear anyone saying he should be punted. He'd even toned down the corporate wankspeak to the odd 'synergy' and 'crystalise' and, the baseless platitudes for players after mediocre/utterly shite performances.  There were pros and cons to Courts time at United. 

The pros:

We looked really solid and well organised. Even against Celtic and Rangers (bar one game each) we never took a doing or really looked like we would either. You could actually see a thought process had gone into our tactics in these games which had clearly been drilled into the players. There was shape, a well-drilled understanding of the right distances between players which meant we were nearly always always decent in terms of how we pressed or how difficult we made it for other teams to play through us.

We defended set pieces well. Usually Ryan Edwards would stay spare and was often like a magnet for the ball.

We had a great start which gave us a platform to build on for the season, got us clear of any real relegation worries and in that period we played some good stuff. We also finished the season really well with a great, passionate performance against Celtic and a determined finish against Ross County with real character being shown in both games which the fans really responded to. The Celtic game (2nd half in particular) was my favourite game of last season.

The cons: 

From the St Johnstone game where Tam evoked the spirit of Jackie McNamara and changed a winning team needlessly onwards we never looked like a threat going forward. Fuchs downing tools and Pawlett's injury catching up with him effectively ended our ability to play 4-3-3 since we didn't have the right personnel to provide the energy required to protect our back four or attack at any sort of pace. We persevered with this for nearly 3 months too winning virtually nothing and becoming less and less of a goal threat. Incredibly our league position didn't change all that much due to how utterly shite everyone else below us was also. Make no mistake, last season was the poorest quality Scottish Premier League ever and we got really lucky because of it.

Our spell of going 1-0 up in games before either drawing or losing laid bare an inability to adapt tactics during games and an an inability to cope when an opposing manager adapted theirs. Hearing recent rumours about how Courts allowed Charlie Mulgrew freee reign to adapt tactics on the pitch doesn't say much for Mulgrew either since he was frequently the one who was to blame for us persisting with endless passing across the backline and slowing us down, even when we were behind. Clearly he was as incapable of adapting tactics as much as Courts was. 

By the St Johnstone game at McDairmid Park the lack of quality going forward is laid bare with us basically passing the ball across the back four for 90 minutes with absolutely no clue how to build attacks due to a complete lack of quality and pace in midfield and attack, not helped by certain players clearly hiding. This game ended with the team and Tam getting booed off the park by almost 2000 people in unison.

New signings at least came in as well as the excellent Ross Graham (who could be described as something of a 'blip' in terms of our youth players in the sense that he has the physical attributes of a ready made Premier League player, determination, the ability to sense when it is time to play football and when it is time to punt the fucking thing into row z)  along with a change of shape to try and make the best of what we had. From then on in we tended to grind out draws with the odd win (pretty much exclusively against Motherwell and Ross County) thrown in. It did hit the point where I personally was close to throwing in the towel though when I wrote this after a game against the The Rangers: 

If your only involvement in supporting or following Dundee United is looking at where we are in the league table then we are having a great season: 4th and a chance of Europe is not to be sniffed at.

However, if you are one of the poor bastards who actually goes to watch us at games or on live streams then you are likely to have a different viewpoint on our season. The football on offer is boring, negative, risk-free football, devoid of pace, aggression and flair. We create very few chances, have a minus goals for column (scored less than a goal a game). Blind loyalty and the chance to go meet up with mates for a few hours and get a couple of pints on a Saturday is about the only reason I've got a season ticket next year but it's getting more expensive (young lads price is rising) and harder to justify given the total lack of entertainment on offer for most of the past 2 seasons (bar a a couple of months from September to November where we played some decent stuff out from the back).

It's hard because 3 years ago we were playing in the Championship and you feel ungrateful for complaining about things now but, make no mistake, this is the poorest quality Premier League I've seen in my lifetime (look at Hibs, Aberdeen and St Johnstone for starters) but the fare on offer is no better than when we played in the Championship, we just now create and score even less than back then.

I know this though, my eyes do not deceive me, what I am watching is brutal and is not enjoyable. I'm getting a bit old for using Utd games as a means of facilitating getting pissed every week and would actually like to be entertained at the actual football, rather than in the pub.

Anyway, we got over the line by finally remembering that you have more chance of succeeding in football when you actually have a go as we did in the last two games and punters responded by lavishing praise on the progress made in the last 4 years under the Orgen's and under Tam last season. I've always said our support are an appreciative bunch who will get right behind the team, particularly if they see their backing being reflected in the efforts on the park. At times last season though this was probably the reality: 

Our support are magnificent btw. Doing their absolute best to try and generate energy. Unfortunately, all the numbers attending, smoke bombs, 'putting on a show' chants can't change the fact that we are a disjointed mess of a side, particularly in the attacking positions.

People deserved their day out at Dingwall for the financial, numerical and emotional backing they gave last season despite some pretty grim fare on offer. I don't ever remember us having as big an away support as we do now despite all of the growing financial pressure we are all feeling these days.

From Tam to the 'Dam

On to this season then. I said to the wife as soon as we qualified for Europe that I'd be going to the away game as long as it was anywhere you were likely to get to without being shot down by a stray Russian missile. Joining a Whatsapp group of likeminded souls who all fancied going abroad to support United for the first time provided both hilarity and farce in equal measure. It would appear that trying to get 8 men to organise themselves as a group is something of a challenge. It took us about 4 days to actually agree on what flight to book (and about 10 price rises) with me pretty much on Whatsapp solidly for that time until an intervention from Big Dunc inspired us to get our act together: 

It then took what felt like about another 10 days to finally book accommodation with a lot of humming and hawwing about what would happen if Alkmaar didn't get through. I reckon about 15 hotels were suggested. Then about the same number of hostels. Then whether or not a hostel would be a good idea if you were not in together and mixed in with loads of randoms, especially since three of us's last experience of a hostel was after The Stone Roses at Heaton Park when we got into a packed dorm at about 5am, were greeted with a couple shagging and a used johnny on the floor and spent 3 hours sleeping with one eye open. Then another few days of debating if we'd get the bus to the airport or the train. Then what bus we would get. Then when we'd leave. Then what we'd do if we missed our return  connection in Dublin. Then if we'd take cash or cards. Then how a Revolut card worked. Then discovering that the boy who we all thought was booking the hotel didn't actually have a credit card all along and couldn't do it. Honest to fuck. About the only thing that wasn't mentioned and debated for days on the group chat was whether or not we'd get travel insurance. It's also amazing how a serious discussion about planning a holiday can be interrupted at a minutes notice by someone posting photoshopped pictures of Utd players as Star Wars characters, or naked burds or pished boys sleeping in Sandys Bar or drunk Phil Mitchell or Mark Fowler or Simon Weston (good Rangers man) as the headless Barcelona player in the display in the Shed.

80s Revival Night

How many of us have kids and tell them endlessly about European nights in the 1980s? Make them watch the Jim McLean years, European Glory Goals and the like on repeat? Hands up who, hand on heart thought their bairns would actually get to experience a 1980's European night? Cos I never. But we did. In fact scratch that. What we got on the 4th of August 2022 was better than the 1980s where your dad would be struggling to get parked anywhere near Tannadice, then you'd be standing outside a pub with a can of coke and a packet of crisps with other random bairns on a dark freezing night whilst he was in having a swift one. I'm sitting in the Balmore with a mate and the wee lad having a pint as it filled up to bursting point and the three bar staff are struggling to cope (the same three bar staff who are on when the place is empty before a game against Livingston). 

"Dad, when is the 'cortao' is starting?" 

"Half seven, I think." 

"You'll no be wanting to go to that are you?" 

"Nooo....," (said with the most broken hearted eye's like Puss in Boots). 

"Sigh....Right we'll have a wander up to the Snug then. No getting served in here anytime soon."

Cue big smile appearing....

It's hard to describe this scene. I expected two men and a dog when we turned up St Salvador Street. Shows what I know. I was rendered a wee bit speechless if I'm being honest. I'd seen Mothewell do a march a few weeks before and thought it was a bit of a minter. I'd seen Celtic do it a few seasons ago and thought they were just a bunch of self-entitled pricks (not particularly because of the march but because they are a bunch of self-entitled pricks). Fuck me though ours was a different level entirely. Maybe it's because Main Street is such a wide road and  a steep hill, maybe it was because there was about 2000-3000 Utd supporters. It's the bit when it stops on Dens Road and folk just burst into a rendition of "One team in Dundee!" A giant mosh pit. Smoke bombs and flags everywhere. Like a scene from Apocalypse Now complete with the smell of napalm in the morning. Like that scene in Human Traffic when they are all on an E in the club. All together as one. On a mission. A mission to escape. The three of us just looked at each other in disbelief. Other previously sceptical older punters just looked at each other smiling. And every cunt started singing. Every cunt went up another level. The match was won here. I kid you not.

I don't catch the start of this unfortunately.

There was a bit of a pre match crisis though in the Heggy. She did warn us...

An absolute cracker of a display in the Shed preceeded the match:

The home game against AZ Alkmaar started with them knocking the ball around comfortably and us barely getting a touch of the ball for about the first 3 minutes. After that whenever we had the ball we were just either hitting long direct balls up to Steven Fletcher or long diagonals to Tony Watt but not really getting anywhere with either. We were pressing Alkmaar well though when they had the ball albeit in the first 20 minutes we were allowing their defenders to have the ball and were concentrating on trying to stop them when they got the ball into their midfielders or their forwards. A risky strategy which led to a few hairy moments, particularly since our new goalkeeper Mark Birighitti looked like a bag of nerves both in terms of his handling and his distribution. We were particularly lucky with one pish clearance that almost led to a goal after about 6 minutes.

Things seemed to turn around the 20 minute mark when Kieran Freeman, a late call up in an unfamiliar left back role due to injuries and a lack of a work permit (#HARDBREXIT) decided to take the ball, pass and link up with a midfielder and drive down the line. Not only did this get us up the park but it also appeared to get the crowd going again and gave the players a bit of belief that they could play passes and get somewhere and didn't need to just lump the ball. Gradually we worked our way into the game and spells of pressure saw chances for the excellent Craig Sibbald and sustained periods of pressure (the bit where Sibbald sends their boy the wrong way was a particular highlight for me since my Utd hero Billy McKinlay used to always do that to players back in the day. The boy here had to pay to get back into the ground).

Tony Watt was also causing problems with direct running into the heart of their defence either winning corners or, drawing fouls. Unlike in Scotland where refs give Watt absolutely nothing, this ref appeared to be giving Watt fouls when he genuinely was fouled whilst also buying his theatrical dives as well. As the half wore on we also started to press their defence much higher up the park and lo and behold: they struggled to cope with it, despite them having a Dutch international and ex-Premiership defender playing there. Cue a lot of ironic jeering as multi-million pound defenders started sclaffing clearances into the George Fox Stand. By half time it's fair to say we were the team on top and Tannadice was really starting to rock. The Shed in particular was immense.

We started the second half on the front foot with an unusually decent cross from Liam Smith almost finding Fletcher. From that point on tbh Alkmaar only really had a couple of chances but you felt like we were on top. The goal actually came from a bit of AZ pressure which the keeper (who was growing in confidence and had significantly improved after half time, guessing the coaches said something to him at half time, probably to just settle down) takes a ball and straight away rolls it out to Levitt. This got the crowd going immediately since it was not something we were used to with Benji, Christ he'd still have the ball in his hands now if he was still at Utd. Levitt then turns, get his head up and picks an absolute worldie of a pass to Middleton who kills it instantly, realises he's got two players on him, jinks one way, drops the shoulder then slaloms between the two of them, leaving one boy flat on his puss, plays a pass into McGrath who is just on. At this point is seems like the move has broken down since McGrath is stuck up a blind alley with two players on him and is facing the opposite way from the onrushing Middleton but somehow manages to pull out a reverse pass which completely takes two defenders out of the game. Suddenly Middleton, who has just got one boy on him lets the ball roll across his path onto his left foot and curls a total pearler into the corner of the net. As soon as he let it roll across his body my eyes lit up and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up because you KNEW this was going in. And by fuck it did.

DELIRIUM

When I jumped up I was facing away from the young lad but turned to see his reaction which was absolutely priceless. I don't think I've seen a reaction like that at Tannadice since Robertson v Rangers. 30 seconds of pure joy and noise like you've never heard before. They could stop wars with that feeling.

We eventually saw the game out to jubilant scenes at the end of the match. The young lad said to me in the car after it that it was the best United game he'd ever been to because of the march, the atmosphere and the game. Even better than the 6-2 game for him. This is what it used to be like in the 80's, I said. Memories are made of nights like this. I stayed up until about 12:30am still on cloud nine that night and to a man people were buzzing saying we really looked like we were onto something for the season coming with our good defensive structure and signs that the attacking players we had brought in were going to give us something extra going forward that had been sorely lacking last season. Fully aware of the the fact I was the one charged with standing in the queue outside the shop the following morning. A queue that had already started forming immediately after the 1st leg had finished....

And so, up at 5:15am then, armed with 7 season tickets, a camping chair, pieces made up and a flask of tea (not coffee since it makes me need a shite in the morning), I drove through from Forfar to Dundee and I said to myself, "The moment of truth," turning into Tannadice Street at about 6:10am. It wasn't that bad tbh. More camping chairs than packed queues. It was a bit of a bummer to see that it was already almost halfway down Neish Street mind you. Groups of strangers, especially men always feel quite awkward in this situation and it probably took about an hour for those around me to start striking up conversations. It's always the same though, as soon as you do start speaking to folk you realise that you've all got things in common and that they are sound as a pound. After initially thinking this was going to be the longest morning imaginable, it actually turned out to be an enjoyable experience and a right good laugh at times. A lot of great cunts in this fine city of ours. The big worry of what happens if you need the toilet was thankfully dispelled by a United official going down the queue around 8:30am to tell everyone the toilets were open in the ground (which was just as well as I was needing my morning Tom Kite) and that free tea's, coffee's, juice and crisps were coming out. A nice touch from the club that deserves to be recognised here. He also said that the Utd directors had been speaking to the AZ Alkmaar directors and that the likelihood was that an additional 200 hospitality tickets at £50 each would probably become available and that we'd be ok to buy home end tickets on the night as long as we weren't too drunk or abusive. There was a collective sigh of relief from punters hearing this, especially further back in the queue since you had no idea how many tickets punters nearer the front were going to buy (cue usual jokes about the Fed, getting their cut of tickets ;-) ). 

As it turned out this never materialised. I've no idea if the AZ directors were just pulling our chain or what. By all accounts they were shocked by our support on the night and the sight of punters getting ready to queue overnight for away tickets. It did relax everyone though and people were happy to keep your place in the queue if you wanted to nip to the loo, or the shops or even just have a wee walk to stretch your legs and break up the monotony. One thing was clear, everyone was talking about how well we'd played and what a great night it was. The manager was getting praise, the players, old and new, including the new keeper for his part in the goal were praised also. United decided to open the shop about 20 minutes early so this was when the queue started to properly form and chairs were packed up and put away. This was actually the worst bit because you were standing for ages and moving a tiny bit at about 10 minute intervals as only a handful of people were being allowed in the shop at any one time and seemingly people's season tickets were being checked thoroughly. By the time I got into the shop for my tickets at about 11:10am my legs were fucking aching. Worryingly this was the point when I started second guessing if all the season ticket's I had were kosher especially when the woman in front of me was refused tickets because hers were bought in the 'early bird' period rather than the 'loyalty' period. As it turned out mine were fine (although the woman serving only appeared to check mine rather than the other six tickets) whilst the poor woman next to me appeared to be about to firstly explode with rage, then burst into tears. Period pains are fucking horrible right enough.

HALF TIME

Go to Horny Jail... BONK!

And so on to Amsterdam. Journey went like clockwork. Ember Bus (lovely btw, deffo recommend) to Glasgow then a shuttle bus to the airport. Three days on the drink with the lads (first lads holiday abroad since I was 19). Flight very good with KLM which put the usual cattle markets of Ryan Air and Easy Jet into perspective. The usual pointless half an hour or so in the 'Brexit Queue' upon arrival with the line pretty much exclusively made up of United supporters. Our identities and lack of terrorist intent confirmed, and we were off to the 'Dam. Oh, and on the subject of Easy Jet, we were staying in twin rooms in the Easy Jet Hotel Amsterdam which can best be described as a cross between the film 'A Clockwork Orange' and a shoe box. A particularly impressive feature was the shower and toilet being IN the same room as the actual beds, just surrounded by a glass screen. With windows that didn't open the prospect of two grown men shitting after being on the drink for the previous 16 hours solid was going to be the stuff of nightmares.  Bear in mind that we actually paid £111 each for this 'privilege'.

Bags dumped (well, paced in the convenient slot under the bed due to the lack of an actual wardrobe) and straight out to Nieuwmrkt Square via loads of attractive women every one of whom smiled at me and gave the come in here hand signal when I walked past their window. Standard. Poor lassies are only human I suppose. They were all sensibly dressed too given the weather in Amsterdam. Far too hot for anything other than a bra and panties. However, one of our group seemed to be making mental notes when he walked past all these women. Almost as if he was compiling vital statistics for a decision later on in the trip. Holland's version of Pigazzi Lighting must've had a sale on red and blue lightbulbs though since that's all these lassies seemed to have in their flats. The rooms with the blue lights were interesting since they seemed to have a strange effect on male punters given that they would initially give an admiring look, then look a bit closer with a puzzled expression, then vigorously shake their heads and gingerly move on down the street. A wee bit like Alan Partridge actually, you know when he's daydreaming, wakens up then says, "I was never confused!"  

Into the square to be greeted by several hundred Arabs getting on it. A sea of tangerine. Videos don't really do it justice. The one above is only about 9pm as we arrived hence the "This is all well and good but where's the beer?" comment from one of the several functioning alcoholics in our party. Abroad. Finally. Watching Dundee United. Putting on a show I'm sure 🙄. Naturally of course it was my round first of all so straight into the only bar that didn't have a massive queue or table service only. 

"Seven pints of Bira Moretti please mate." 

"The good stuff. Nane of yer Heineken pish." I thought to myself.

"That'll be €67 please."

"...."

My expression is pretty much on a par with the boy at the back at this moment.

Pints were relayed outside whilst I got a lecture from the barman about taking glasses out into the square and how we'll not get served if we do because they'd lose their licence. At least I think that's what he said, still in a bit of a daze from open-wallet surgery. By the time I got outside to our table Ross and Tully had drunk more than half their pints already. Fucking alky bastards. 

"SIP YOUR DRINK FFS, that just cost me a fortune."

"BTW, the boy behind the bar says we're not allowed to take our glasses out onto the square or we'll get barred."

"Dinna worry we'll no be buying another drink from this place at €67 a round."

Thankfully the place next door was doing a round of a local brew for the 'bargain' price of just €45 a round so it was a quick move into there and amazingly, a free table as we met up with Kurt, the last one in our Whatsapp group who had travelled separately and was staying in different accommodation. First time I've met Kurt. Top lad, knows his football for sure. Be surprised if he remembers me given the state he was in mind you. After a blether about things some of us started venturing out into the square by which stage a massive sing-song had started with the best 'Only you," I've ever seen or been involved in. The Dutch police were taking a pretty light-touch approach to things given that it was all really good-natured and a lot of boys there actually had kids with them. I think I only saw one boy get taken into the police van who I'm pretty sure had taken a police helmet and was dancing around the square with it on (LOL). Even then I saw him later on, so they must've just given him a warning and let him go. Police in other places could take heed of this approach when dealing with football fans. Naturally of course I then started seeing pupils from the school I teach at but due to my inebriated state I took the initiative and embarrassed them by saying hello to them and their parent(s) rather than the other way round.

By about 1am the United crowd started clearing as most pubs started closing. I think at this point myself and a few others got something to eat to stop us falling down and dying because we were all absolutely fucked. We ended up in a pub/club but tbh I can't remember much about it other than someone saying that you needed to pay 70 cents to go to the toilet which was hopeless since no-one was carrying any cash on them, let alone change. The boy on the door of the toilet (which was downstairs) was revelling in turning bursting folk away until one inebriated/desperate Arab (not me) decided to take matters in his own hands and pish down the stairs instead. About half 3 we were on the lookout for a taxi when we found some poor bastard who was so out of it, he couldn't stand. His pal had given up trying to help him whilst his wife and her pal were just stotting about not sure what to do. Thankfully, my pals were able to get him off the street and revive him enough to get him into a taxi although I was trying to persuade the others that he should be getting helped into an ambulance instead. Their reluctance made we wonder what he had been on during the night. Amsterdam really is a bit Sin City-esque. Or maybe he'd just not had the sense to get something to eat. Who knows.

I took the plunge first to visit the bog in the room at around 8am. This forced Ross to evacuate the room and go for a walk whilst I got another 90 mins or so of kip. A few of the group had headed out for breakfast to various places though so once I was up, showered and shaved around ten, I ventured out to a lovely patisserie/cafe next to our hotel for a spot of breakfast. What is strange is the place did fried eggs on bread, rather than toast. When I tried to ask for toast the lassie looked at me like I had two heads (which to be fair to the lassie, I probably did have). Anyways, fried eggs and bread it was and by the back of 11 most of us were up and ready to go exploring. Not before I went back up the room to get a pee only to discover Ross had got his revenge for me, a. getting him up by going for a crap and b. going back to sleep after he'd got up. A toxic, unflushed mess had been left in the bog for my return. Yes folks, we are men in our 40's.

The area we were in (Amsterdam city centre South) was actually quite upmarket with a lot of designer shops and nice cafe bars one of which, Ross had spotted out for his morning walk so given how hot it was, it was decided to be essential that we took on some fluids before travelling any further. This turned out to be a masterstroke. 'Arie Amsterdam', as well as a having a cracking selection of craft beers from Holland and beyond also had, what can honestly be described as the tidiest set of barmaids any of us had ever seen. We were convinced that there was some sort of human cloning machine hidden inside. The thing was as well, being Dutch they actually had a personality to go with their 'Daisy Dukes' and everyone of them knew their craft beers which, given that all of us like our #CANS back home was like venturing into heaven. Ok, dirty, middle-aged bastard heaven but we were on holiday so give us a break. Of course, no incriminating photos were taken 🙄 so you'll have to make do with a few Instagram screenshots.

Epic High

After a wander into town and a few more drinks as well as a visit to the only McDonalds that is slower than the one in Reform Street, Dundee, we headed towards Amsterdam Central Station to catch the train to Alkmaar. It was going to be a test for United playing in this heat. The train was packed with Arabs many of whom were talking about and sharing videos of the Alkmaar Ultras jumping United supporters who had tried to recreate the march from the first game. Whilst there was clearly no need for these pricks to be assaulting anyone, I do have to question the wisdom of the people organising a march through another city, no matter how good natured the intentions. To me it smacks of trying to take over someone else's turf when we are guests in their town, and it gave the thick bastards who make up their 'ultras' an excuse to have a go. There's a difference between going to the pubs in a town because you are still guests, taking up the offer of their hospitality and marching about like you own the place. Just my opinion. The good thing at least is it would appear that despite one video which made it look like our support got a bit of a hard time, our supporters appeared to give theirs a bit of a slapping around when they did try something and by the time we were there we never seen any bother and only a handful of them lurking around the square (tbh they were just daft teenagers from what I seen).

Alkmaar was a lovely place it has to be said. I'm a sucker for the architecture in places like this in Holland as well as Bruges in Belgium. There's a part of me that would quite like to move to one of these places. It always seems like a more chilled out, slower pace of life and a more equal society. Everyone also looks so much healthier as well. Whilst I would not consider myself overweight in Scottish terms and enjoy my exercise, I reckon I would have to lose at least a stone to be on a par with the Dutchmen we saw on our three days. Any Modern Studies teacher needing evidence of health inequalities in Scotland should just look at photos of our support wandering around Amsterdam and Alkmaar compared to the locals and the Alkmaar supporters. It's not a pretty picture with beer guts and double chins galore. Put it down to the 'the three P's' of pehs, pints and puffin (or in my case its 'the three C's': crisps, cakes and chocolate biscuits). Great fun but not great if you know what I mean. These things catch up with you in the end for sure. After all, the piper must be paid.

Anyway, back on the drink in Alkmaar Square... 😆

We all caught up with various other Arabs we know and bar one unsavoury incident the atmosphere was really good natured. I saw a few ex-pupils from school who were at pains to tell me about the sex show they had been to last night. Not at all uncomfortable listening for their ex-teacher... They also reminded me about the difference between the red and blue lights. Thanks for the tip lads. Everyone was feeling hopeful about our chances in the game as well, still buzzing about the home leg and assuming the Livingston game in between was just a blip due to a mixture of tiredness and Livingston's anti-football tactics. With the onus on Alkmaar to come at us, we would be able to hit them on the break. My prediction was that we'd score early doors through Tony Watt (a clear indicator that I'd been bevvying for far too long) and then sit in for a 1-1 draw. It had been such a great few days away that maybe we could all dare to dream. I'd been to the 6-1 game against Falkirk in the Championship as well as the defeats against Alloa, Arbroath and East Fife. Surely this was our reward for putting up for (banter) years of utter shite and being the butt of jokes from Dundee, Aberdeen and St Johnstone fans. United were back a I declared after the first leg. No-one was laughing at us now.

Two hours later every one of them must've been laughing their cock off at us.

Killer Comedown: The Seven Deadly Sins

Positives? Let's see then: Alkmaar's stadium was nice. It was still really nice weather. Our new away strip looks smart. The atmosphere was fucking tremendous at the start of the game. And that's it.

We should have known this was going to be a shit night from when we got dropped off by the shuttle bus and got made to stand outside the ground for well over half an hour in 80 degree heat for no apparent reason. They took an age to open the gates, then had about 3 people checking people's tickets before you went to another set of boys who frisked you then went the actual turnstile to get in, which was unmanned. I texted the young lad saying this was Liverpool in the Champions League Final all over again. I really don't understand why European teams just don't have the same system for getting into football grounds as we do where you go up to a turnstile, show your ticket and then get let in. It's hardly rocket science and if the argument is they do it this way to prevent crowd trouble, then all I can say is the way they did it actually caused more aggravation than it prevented.  And the irony is, that whilst they were fucking annoying everyone in the crowd, boys with and without tickets were climbing over the fences behind them and sneaking into the away end unnoticed, including rather comically, a boy we know who is on crutches!

I've seen us lose European games before, I've seen us lose heavily before but I've never seen us get so completely outclassed as we were here. What's worse is how easily we appeared to give up. Pretty much after number 2 went in. We actually started not too badly too. For the first 20 minutes we chased and harried. However, for the first goal we were carved open with the kind of ease you normally reserve for friendly games where one team is from about 3-4 levels above their opponents. The one touch passing is excellent, and the boys dummy is what makes the goal. However, this goal highlighted that the team selection was badly wrong with Liam Smith getting next to no protection from either the central midfielders or Jamie McGrath who was strangely picked to play wide right of the attacking three in behind Steven Fletcher. It was even worse on the other side where Aziz Behich had finally been given his debut at left back and gave a pretty good recreation of Adrain Sprole's debut against Hearts in the League Cup about four years ago. You know, the one where he was charging out at boys one minute, then virtually standing on top of his centre halves the next? Like Sprole that night it didn't take boys in the crowd long to realise that Behich didn't appear to have a clue how to play as a left back in a back four. Once again, you have to question who actually scouted this boy. If he was recruited as a specialist wing back that's fair enough, but it would have been nice if our recruitment team had told Jack Ross this before chucking him into this game in a position that he looked to lack the fundamentals to play. His cause wasn't helped by Tony Watt strolling about around the halfway line and leaving Behich, like Smith on the other side, facing two or even three players charging at him the whole first half. If Watt put as much effort into attacking or tracking back as he does at falling on his arse and throwing his hands up into the air then Watt would still be a lazy bastard. 

We at least made a chance after the first goal with a good passing move which led to Ian Harkes trying an overhead kick. That was our lot tbh. The second goal was a bit unlucky as a despairing Dylan Levitt interception went straight to their player who cracked the ball into the corner. Was it unstoppable though? I reckon Benji Siegrist would have saved it. Not for the first time, our much-heralded new goalkeeper had been beaten a little bit to easily by a long-range strike (Livingston game was saveable as well imho). In both cases his dive is too late, his footwork isn't adjusted and there is no real spring towards the ball, just lying down with his arm outstretched.  I've seen a few people saying he is too short to be a goalkeeper which I think is a load of bollocks. If you are a bit shorter (and this boy is over 6ft ffs, hardly short) then you need to ensure you have good positioning, footwork and the ability to dive, pushing off to gain that extra few inches. Alan Main was only 5ft 11 but was a brilliant shot stopper. The Mad Monk wasn't much bigger and was the best shot stopper I have ever seen.

                                                       #UnitedInPursuit

After the second one went in, I decided to head down to the kiosk for something to eat given that I was feeling a bit worse for wear and wanted to stretch out my night post-match. I was also thoroughly pissed off. The kiosk was pitch level though and although you could see our box to begin with, as you moved further up the queue you ended up indoors. The Alkmaar kiosk was even slower than the Tannadice one and of course I ended up in the queue for over 20 minutes and proceeded to miss their 3rd, 4th and 5th goals. I did see a lot of relentless pressure though and heard people shouting about the keeper making a total flap at their 3rd. From watching the goals back, it wasn't the first time this had happened either. However, their third goal also highlighted a tactical problem caused by Jack Ross. He appears to have changed our tactic when defending corners of having Ryan Edwards spare and dead centre of the box whilst everyone else man marked players. This worked really well for us last season, even against Celtic and Rangers since Edwards just attacked everything without having to worry about tracking a man. This helped us since Benji wasn't the most keen to come out and take crosses. Jack Ross appeared to have changed this and Edwards was marking someone just like everyone else. We struggled defending set pieces against Kilmarnock and lost a late goal as a result of Edwards leaving his man to try and help Ross Graham out who had been blocked off. We also looked chaotic against Livingston and Sunderland at corners this way. Birighitti had taken a few crosses against Killie but in Alkmaar he never got near any of them. They also blocked Edwards off at the 3rd goal a bit like Killie had with Ross Graham at their equalizer. We now looked ragged as anything with boys running about like headless chickens desperately trying to defend their box instead of actually trying to press them and stop passes and crosses at source. Behich got the blame for the 4th (I could see him wildly fresh air shotting a clearance from where I was standing in the kiosk queue) but when you watch the goal back our defending is absolutely shambolic. For their 4th goal meanwhile, Alkmaar have four players in behind our midfield all of whom would have had enough time to take the pass, turn and get a shot away. The decision to not replace even one of Callum Butcher or Jeando Fuchs (or even Kevin McDonald tbh) with someone who had the ability to press, put in a tackle, sense danger or even just show a bit of positional discipline and sit there and act as a presence in front of the back four is as fucking criminal as it is incompetent. Judging by an interview Jack Ross gave the week of the transfer deadline it would appear that going into the season with no specialised holding midfielder was part of a club 'strategy' to make us more of a possession based, attacking team. Holy fuck. Who fucking makes these decisions honestly? It can't surely be someone who has ever played football before because I can't think of a single decent team ever who has not had at least one Makelele, Kante, Keane, Viera, Dunga, Fernandinho, Rodri, Fabinho, Busquets, Holt, Gomis etc. etc. etc. in it. I'm guessing it's one of those boys with more degrees than games of football played at any level who appear on social media every now and again, talk down to people, have a pop at our support then shut their account down before any backlash happens. Has anyone at Tannadice ever heard of striking a balance?

The hot dog wasn't even that nice either. 

Anyway, the second half started (Tony Watt had been hooked at least which was a positive) and we looked even more deflated than the first half. I was still checking my phone to see if there were any videos of the goals I had missed. Apparently as play built up, I looked up with my eyes rather than lift my head, saw number 5 go in then just looked back down to my phone without a flicker of emotion. I wasn't the only one who had given up by this stage. Boys started leaving in droves, other boys decided this was the time to have a kip. Some of our group bailed but I decided to stay because I'd hardly seen any of the game. We hadn't travelled out here to watch 45 minutes (or in my case about 25 minutes if you are lucky) of United in Europe. I don't blame anyone for leaving. I can't even really describe the second half too. We just continued to chase shadows, subs were made with no impact whatsoever and no-one was pressing or trying to track back. The ease with which Alkmaar were able to cut through our midfield after turning over possession was frightening, and each goal was worryingly similar. For professional footballers to give up in the way United did here strongly suggested that there were deeper problems here than just poor tactics and a lack of a decent defensive midfielder. This was night and day from the first leg which appeared to be based on adrenaline or even the Killie game which was a Courts-lite performance (complete with failing to cope with the opposing manager adjusting their tactics). It looked like at some point in this week (Livi game?) or even at half time in this game, there's been a serious falling out between players and manager. I think we had a couple of shots on goal and half-chances but most of these were ballooned wide or over the bar to the sound of the Alkmaar support pissing themselves laughing at how bad we were. At the end Liam Smith at least had the balls to front up to the support by himself, applaud us and say he was sorry, the others just hung around the halfway line, looking sheepishly in our direction before meekly leaving the field of play. Smith is by no means a player I rate but fair play to him here since he took the brunt of the fans ire at the end which was a shame since at least he had the excuse that he was completely hung out to dry by both his team-mates and the manager both during and after this game.

Out Out

Another lengthy wait for the shuttle buses but at least we knew the train from Alkmaar to Amsterdam was only about 30 odd minutes so we'd be able to drown our sorrows pretty quickly. Or so we thought. As a final kick in the teeth, we all got put on a train which stopped at every town, village and fucking windmill in Holland before finally getting back to Amsterdam about an hour and 20 minutes later. Of course, the train was mobbed with everyone just sat there in total silence. By the time we got back and found the pub the rest of the boys were in it was quarter to one and the pubs were kicking out so we couldn't get a drink. At this stage a few boys decided they'd had enough and decided to call it a night. However, the rest of us were determined to salvage something from this absolute trainwreck of a night and went looking for someplace, anyplace, with a late licence. We drew the line at the sex show type places which I saw a few United supporters trying to get in to. The Russian mafia types on the doors would be:

"Come in here boys, it's only €15 to get in."

"Aye very good. How much is it to get out though?"

One of our group was doing a bit of 'window shopping' as well which slowed our progress. Thankfully though we found someplace that would actually let us all in, got a drink them immediately were told to drink up because it was closing time. FFS. Luckily some bouncer took pity on us and gave us directions to a pub/club that had a late licence. Belushi's. LOL Lot of teenage drinking memories came flooding back hearing that name for sure. Predictably from then on in, it was everybody saying 'fuck it' and just getting trolleyed with pints, nips and shots. There was a fair amount of United supporters in the place and it was quite funny seeing all these bemused locals sitting watching us lot dancing around on the stage like a bunch of lunatics. The DJ was fair impressed with the quality of tracks we were requesting as well. One star turn couldn't be beaten though:

A fucking great night spoiled by the football.

The Great Plane Robbery

Oh aye and the day after the game some fucking rat bastard stole my case when I wasn't looking in the departure lounge of Schiphol Airport. And I've still not got it back and don't expect I ever will. And I didn't have fucking travel insurance, unlike everyone else in our group. I complacently thought I'd be fine. The week before I went to Holland I lost a unit of work I'd been doing for about 4 months when my computer updated/crashed. I never saved it anywhere, I've never not done that before. I complacently thought everything would be ok. I knew it was my fault, losing both so I guess the and so I guess as punishment for my overindulgence on the drink the day of our flight the piper must be paid. It put the Alkmaar result into perspective since I felt 100 times worse sitting on the plane with just the clothes on my back, my phone and passport than I did walking out of that stadium.  

Maybe it was one of the United players who stole the case. Most of them have been stealing a wage this season and not just in Holland. It's scary that losing 7-0 hasn't been our worst result or performance this season. The 9-0 Celtic game is the lowest point in the club's history (I stayed until the end again) and a lot of people can count themselves lucky that Jack Ross has largely taken the blame for what happened. The players have got off far too easily for downing tools like a bunch of huffy wee bairns because the manager didn't appear to allow them to run the show, and god forbid 😮 criticised them for utterly shite performances rather than the shite corporate insincere platitudes Tam Courts used to give them for last season's shite performances. The club for indulging the players and making our head coach role look like a poisoned challis coupled with shite recruitment which calls into question if the head coach has any autonomy whatsoever. Whoever comes in needs to give us some sort of identity on the park since at the moment we can't string two passes together, don't look like creating chances and have several players who are happy to hide on the park whilst there are at least 3 who break every move down when they get the ball and are probably just not good enough. Those at the top also need to stop endlessly banging on about their latest 'commercial partnerships' or endless attempts to flog stuff to the fans (the discounted Europa t-shirts the day after Alkmaar was taking the absolute piss). The clubs continual stretching of fans loyalty whilst wringing as much money out of people as possible has to stop and is now driving people away. Get the focus back on the football and making improvements in our situation before we are cut adrift in the league. 2015/16 is still fresh in many people's minds as a club riddled with complacency failed to address key positions whilst too many players with an over-inflated opinion of themselves downed tools and a blinkered leadership buried their heads in the sand until it was too late. Don't make the same mistake twice.

FULL TIME