Blackpool

From screaming to reconciliation

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If you fall, you get back up; if they push you, you move around; if they insult you, you handle it; if they kick you, you face up to them; if you fail you keep trying… Never surrendering is extremely important for professional footballers (and amateurs too) and it is something we must remember day by day. It is the “game by game” tactics that Simeone used last year to win the title and it is what keeps Blackpool awake. It is what must keep us all awake. Even though it might seem like a miracle.

What happened last week could be made into a movie. From the beginning to the end… We started by losing against the leaders, Middlesbrough. Woodgate hadn’t played a single game all season and he scored his first goal in more than 2 years against us. That says it all.

80 minutes fighting hard and during the last 10 minutes we went from the frying pan into the fire! Kike scored to make it 1-2 in the 88th minute and I saw tension in the changing room that I had never seen before.

What happens in the changing room stays in the changing room but I keep thinking about it and realised that sooner or later it had to happen. There were very difficult days that led us to call for a meeting on Friday in which we all looked into each other’s eyes and said what we had to say, which in a few words was that we are all together in this ship and we have to pull together and play with pride. It doesn’t matter if 5 of us or 25 of us are friends but what is important is that all 25 of us play and behave as teammates. We understood that and we managed to play on Saturday in a better mood.

We weren’t a terminally ill team on Saturday. We were better than Forest, and given the circumstances (there is no point talking about Bloomfield Road’s grass anymore), we scored 4 goals, and most importantly, we didn’t surrender when we realised the game was slipping away again. Yes, I remembered the game against Watford where we were 2-0 up and after they equalised we seemed to completely disappear from the pitch. On Saturday we didn’t do that. They score 2 goals to draw level and we went for the third. We found ourselves losing with seconds to go and we went crazy to try to equalise. It was a titanic effort, a respectable one. Even Lewis came up to try to score like a madman. It made me feel proud of this team again and I thought that O’Dea’s blood will have to mean something in the future.

I am talking about O’Dea’s blood, you should have seen the state of his ankle at the end of the game, then there was Tom Aldred’s sending off after managing to get a penalty on his debut, and I’m talking about finishing the game with 9 players, about me getting injured by pulling a muscle in my quadriceps and defending with one leg in the corners, cursing the referees family when I saw that he was adding nine minutes of stoppage time…

It was one of those afternoons that make fans love football, with 5 goals in 11 minutes, looking at the opponent’s angry face, an opponent that has won 2 games in a row but have now faced a team willing to die in their pursuit of salvation.

I scored my first goal at Bloomfield Road and it was a good one. An “alla del Piero” goal. I am a humble admirer of Pinturicchio (that’s what Agnelli used to call Alessandro del Piero) and when I managed to scored my goal, I thought the game was over. Very innocent of me to think that Blackpool could finish a game in 65 minutes…. We should make a video with all the goals teams have scored against us and take them to the football schools to teach the kids what not to do. It is incredible, to be honest, how we manage to concede goals in such important times of the game. I was still celebrating our 2-0 lead when they scored and we were cheering each other up and reminding ourselves not to give up when they equalised in yet another silly play. I finally managed to celebrate a goal with our fans, which is why I celebrated it so effusively but then in a blink of an eye everything went back to square one. Then it got worse.

Now I want to talk about Michail Antonio. He is so powerful, not even 3 of our defenders could stop him. I would love to be that strong, even if it was only for one day, to feel what he feels. One of his runs provoked the penalty and Alfred’s sending off and he shook us up.

I think I played the most surreal 15 minutes of the year. Before the game I had a temperature and to play twice in 4 days on a pitch like this doesn’t help. At the end I had pulled my muscle but I hope it is not serious and I hope to be back as soon as possible. I also got a very hard knock to my hip in the first half and now all my body hurts like mad. I spent all Sunday sitting on the sofa, with ice on my leg, ice on my hip, a blanket, a slight temperature and a hat watching the little mermaid with Norah. She doesn’t like my hair either and wasn’t shy to let me know. Charming!

I want to talk about 2 things about the team and the season. I explained earlier on that the atmosphere after the Middlesbrough game was rather tense. I want to clarify something: relationships in a big group are never easy. Are they easy in a couple? They aren’t. You still have arguments and misunderstandings and there is some shouting that you regret afterwards and then the reconciliations. You always end up making up…

Blackpool’s season? On Saturday night while I was watching Espanyol beating Malaga, I spoke to my journalist friend in Barcelona. I asked him if he could find an internet page in which I could easily see the stats of all the Blackpool games and when he sent me one I spent a long time looking at the stats. Yes, I am a bit crazy I know. Not sure whether it was a good idea or not as I discovered that with a bit of luck we could have had at least 10 more points!

Day 7: 0-1 against Watford. They score a penalty in the 68th minute and Ranger misses another penalty on the 81st. Day 9: 1-3 vs Norwich. 1-0 up and they equalise with an own goal and score the next in the 80th minute. Day 13: 0-1 vs Derby County. They score a penalty in the 81st. Day 16: 2-2 at Craven Cottage. 2-0 after 26 minutes and we concede in stoppage time of the first half. Day 18: 1-1 vs Bolton. They equalise in the 82nd minute. Day 23: 1-0 at Hillsborough. Sheffield beat us with a penalty. Day 26: 2-0 in Wolverhampton. They score in the 86th. Day 30: 1-2 vs Middlesbrough: We take the lead in the 81st minute and after equalising in the 85th they score their second in the 88th minute. Jornada 31: 4-4 vs Forest…

I am pulling my hair out just thinking about this (maybe that is why my daughter says what she says!). We could have 12 extra points or at least 9 or 10 more. There are still 45 points to play for and it feels like we are climbing Mount Everest because if you look back at the last 2 seasons, if we win half of those points that would be just enough to avoid relegation. We have to get our winter clothes on and start climbing the mountain. If Sir Edmund Hillary managed to do it, so can we.

On Saturday we are travelling to Ewood Park. Blackburn destroyed Stoke City in the FA Cup (they are going to miss Bojan for the rest of the season!) and it will be a very difficult Lancashire derby. But I never lost there with Brighton and I want to keep that track record. Then the midweek game against Brentford, a team who likes to play the ball and they play in a small ground similar to Bloomfield Road. We have to keep clenching out teeth and I keep thinking that if we manage to win an away game, the dynamics will change. I want to be in that position, I want to recover as soon as possible because I feel good on the pitch, I think I am playing well and I want to help my team.

An anecdote to finish. What do you think about the controversy in Spain because of Ronaldo’s birthday party? From the distance I think that they have exaggerated things. Yes they had lost 4-0 but if someone cannot celebrate his 30 birthday in peace, we may as well call it quits. Moreover for what I have read it was a party with family, friends, kids… We used to have big parties in Brighton with the Spanish army… I think the latest I got home after a party though was 11pm at night. Seriously, a footballer deserves a bit of privacy in his life. Maybe this privacy or the lack of it has put Cristiano on the spot. Saying that, what I really didn’t like was Ronaldo’s taste of music…that singer….

I hope I will be back next week with good news. Until we are not mathematically relegated we will keep on fighting.

Come ooooooon!!

Translated by Alfons Vinent.

Lost kids in the big city

por
blackpool

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We play at home and we play better. We have adapted to Bloomfield Road’s “perfect grass” and with the help of our people and the pride that we haven’t lost yet, we are capable of facing any team. Very few teams like to play in our ground because they understand what it means to play against a wounded team on an impossible pitch…But we play away and we look like kids lost in a big city. That is what happened to us on Saturday in Norwich. Lost and scared.

It is difficult to explain anything without offending our fans. At the end of the day, it is for them that we play and they don’t deserve this. In Carrow Road more of the same: we started well, facing up a superior team that has premiership quality players and just pushing ourselves to the limit, until a stupid play in the midfield with a inoffensive pass ended up in Hooper’s first goal. From then on, it all became an impossible climb. We never gave up but it looked like we did.

I watched the highlights of the game yesterday and I was thinking, as I always do, if I couldn’t have done something more… The second goal, we have to admit that, was a hell of a goal that would have been the goal of the month all over the world, had it been scored by Rooney or Messi. In 25 minutes all our plans had collapsed, all our expectations had been destroyed and all our hopes completely gone.

Norwich and Blackpool are two opposite worlds. They look at the promotion play-off with joy whereas we look at our position of the table with despair, and these kind of things really show on the pitch. It multiplies the differences between both teams, and it doesn’t matter how hard we try, we become a desperate bunch. Sometimes, I rely on that desperation to push forward but we have to be stronger than we are, especially away from home.

In the coach we watched a video that didn’t help that much in the end but that I replay in my mind to keep my faith. The video showed Sunderland and Birmingham last season, when for most they were already relegated but managed to stay up right at the end. These examples help us and motivate us but then you need to get out there and play without fear, you need to repeat what you do in the training sessions, you need to be stronger than the rival, and it seems that we are not capable of doing this. I refuse to believe that everytime we play away we are going to get trashed because it has never happened to me before. I have never experienced a situation like this and our fans don’t deserve it as they are the ones who get more affected.

It has been a terrible season so far and we need to be men enough to face what we have got left with dignity and show our anger in every game to confirm that we deserve to stay up. Many will pass by this club, some will stay others no, but Blackpool with remain and their fans will suffer. It is for them and only for them that we must honour the colours we are wearing. I can’t keep thinking about the few but extremely good fans who accompanied us in Carrow Road. I could see them in the stands and I suffered with and for them, and I thought that we really have to beat both Middlesbrough and Forest who are coming to Blackpool next. We owe that to our fans.

In Norwich we also met the MLS team Chicago Fire who are doing their pre-season in the UK and were in the stadium watching the game. We were in the same hotel and I had a chat with Guly do Prado who trained with us a while ago. It was nice to see him and he is very excited about this new adventure in the US, in a league that is growing a lot and attracting more and more European players. Of course, if you are Gerrard or Lampard and they pay you what they get paid, even better!!!

I wanted to talk about a very especial letter that I received last week from a Brighton fan called James, who wrote to me to show me his appreciation and to tell me how worried he is about the team’s situation and how upset he was when Brighton didn’t renew my contract. I am very grateful for his support but must clarify that I wasn’t treated badly by the club. They simply thought that it was better to trust the young players rather than me, and they thought that I couldn’t offer much else to the club and decided not to renew my contract. Of course I didn’t agree with those reasons but I am a professional and I have to accept these things.

These kind of letters, like the one I talked about before from a Blackpool fan, give sense to our profession, way beyond the money. I don’t understand football without that communion between myself and the fans. I lived it in Vitoria and I lived it with Swansea, Brighton and now Blackpool. Like I did, of course in Barcelona. I am not going to lie though, and say that I was a Blackpool hardcore fan way before I arrived, but I have now been here for nearly 7 months and I am completely commited to this team because I felt respected and appreciated from day one. This is the way I am and I have always been. I suffer as much as the fans and I am now in a ship that is sinking but I am going to try my best to keep it afloat.

By the way, on Thursday the foot doctor brought a compilation of newspapers where my weekly column from am14.net is published and we had a good chat about it. I understand now why I never get any interviews!! I am out there every week and didn’t have a clue. I save lots of work to some journalists so I am wondering whether I should stop talking to them after all….

Jokes aside, we are playing against Middlesbrough next who haven’t lost a game in the last 7. They look at the premiership and have a coach like Karanka who has proved that he was more than Mourinho’s helper. A good friend plays there, Damià Abella, who is still recovering from a serious injury. He has been very unlucky as he started the season in the 1st eleven and I really hope he gets back to the pitch soon. However, it doesn’t matter how good they are. In Blackpool they will have to suffer a lot. On Bloomfield Road’s “perfect pitch” both teams will start from scratch and we will die to try to maintain our hopes.

Thanks for being there. To the tangerine people I cannot but being grateful for your unconditional support despite everything that is going on. Yes we are wounded but still breathing.

Come ooooooon!!

Translated by Alfons Vinent.

Niños perdidos en la gran ciudad

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blackpool

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Jugamos en casa y somos unos. Nos hemos adaptado a la ‘alfombra’ de Bloomfield Road y con el empuje de nuestra gente y el orgullo que mantenemos somos capaces de plantar cara a cualquiera. A pocos equipos debe gustarles jugar en nuestra casa porque entienden qué significa enfrentarse a un equipo herido en un campo imposible, pero salimos fuera y parecemos niños perdidos en la gran ciudad. Y eso nos ocurrió el sábado en Norwich. Perdidos y asustados.

Es difícil explicar nada sin que nuestros aficionados se sientan ofendidos. A fin de cuentas jugamos por y para ellos y no merecen este vía crucis. En Carrow Road más de lo mismo: empezamos centrados. Bien. Plantando cara a un equipo superior, con jugadores de calidad Premier y empujándonos a nosotros mismos… hasta que una chorrada de jugada en el centro del campo con un pase que no parecía nada del otro mundo acabó con el primero de Hooper. Y a partir de ahí una escalada imposible. No nos rendimos, en absoluto, pero lo pareció.

Ayer vi el resumen del partido y me paré a pensar como hago siempre si no se pudo evitar tal o cual jugada. El 2-0 hay que reconocer que fue un golazo que si lo llega a marcar Rooney o Messi lo sacan en todos los programas proclamándolo el gol del mes. Y es lo que nos mató ya del todo. En 25 minutos, todos los planes por el suelo, todas las expectativas destrozadas y todo nuestro ánimo derrumbado.

Somos dos mundos opuestos. Ellos miran al play-off de ascenso con ilusión y para nosotros es un drama fijarnos en la clasificación y eso en el campo se nota. Multiplica las diferencias entre unos y otros, por mucho empeño que le pongamos, y nos convierte en un grupo desesperado. Es en la desesperación en lo que a veces pongo la clave para salir adelante, pero para lograrlo tenemos que ser mucho más fuertes. Sobre todo fuera de casa.

En el autocar vimos un vídeo que luego no sirvió de mucho pero que me repito a mi mismo para mantener la fe. Nos pusieron los ejemplos del Sunderland y del Birmingham del año pasado. Para muchos estaban condenados. Y ambos se salvaron. Son ejemplos que ayudan y motivan, pero luego tienes que salir al campo a jugar sin miedo, repetir lo que haces en los entrenamientos, ser más fuerte que el rival. Y parece que nosotros no somos capaces de hacerlo.

Me niego a pensar que cada vez que juguemos fuera de casa vamos a salir con la cara pintada porque nunca me ha pasado, porque nunca había vivido una situación así y porque nuestra aficionados no lo merecen. Y ellos son los más perjudicados.
Está siendo una temporada terrible y tenemos que ser lo suficientemente hombres como para afrontar lo que hay por delante con la mayor dignidad posible y la rabia absoluta por demostrar que merecemos quedarnos en esta Liga. Porque muchos pasaremos por este club; algunos nos quedaremos y otros no, pero el Blackpool seguirá existiendo y sus fans sufrirán con lo que pueda pasar. Sólo por eso debemos honrar la camiseta. Es por eso que no puedo más que volver a pensar en los pocos pero buenísimos fans que nos acompañaron a Carrow Road. Les veía en la esquina del campo y sufría por y con ellos, pensando en que tanto el Middlesbrough como el Forest, que vendrán seguidos a Blackpool, tienen que perder en nuestra casa. Es lo que les debemos. Lo mínimo.

También coincidimos en Norwich con la expedición del Chicago Fire, equipo de la MLS que está en Gran Bretaña de pretemporada y que estuvo en el campo viendo el partido. Compartimos hotel y estuve charlando con Guly do Prado la noche anterior. Entrenó con nosotros hace un tiempo y fue un reencuentro agradable. Se le veía ilusionado con esta aventura de jugar en Estados Unidos, en una Liga que está creciendo un montón y a la que van cada vez más futbolistas de Europa. Claro que si eres Gerrard o Lampard y te pagan lo que a ellos, ¡todavía mejor!

A todo esto me gustaría referirme a una carta especial que volví a recibir esta semana. Un aficionado del Brighton llamado James me escribió para demostrarme su cariño y su aprecio. Y para comentarme lo preocupado que está con la andadura del equipo como enfadado por lo mal que me trataron por no renovarme. Le agradezco infinitamente sus palabras, pero el club no me trató mal. Simplemente pensó que era más adecuado confiar en los jóvenes que en mi, creyó que yo no estaba en condiciones de ayudarles y decidió no renovarme. Obviamente, no estoy de acuerdo en las razones que me dieron para no renovar, pero como profesionales que somos hay que aceptar las cosas como vienen.

Pero son cartas como esta, o como aquella que comenté en su día de un hincha del Blackpool, las que dan sentido, más allá del dinero, a nuestra profesión. No concibo el fútbol sin pasión o implicación con quienes están en la grada. Lo viví en Vitoria, en Swansea, en Brighton y ahora en Blackpool. Como, claro, en Barcelona. No voy a mentir y a proclamarme un fan incondicional del Blackpool desde antes de venir, pero llevo cerca de siete meses aquí y me identifico absolutamente con lo que es este club porque desde el primer día me he sentido apreciado y respetado. Y porque soy así. Desde siempre. Sufro tanto como los aficionados y estoy en un barco que tiene pinta de hundirse sin remedio… Pero voy a remar como el primero para intentar sacarlo a flote.

Por cierto. El jueves la podóloga del club me trajo extractos de periódicos en los que sale publicado mi blog semanal en am14.net y estuvimos comentando varias cosas de lo que escribo. ¡Ahora entiendo porque nunca me entrevista nadie! Estoy ahí cada semana y no tenía ni idea. Ahorro trabajo a los periodistas así que no sé si debería parar para hablar con ellos…

Bueno, más en serio… Nos viene el Middlesbrough con siete jornadas sin perder, mirando a la Premier y con un entrenador, Karanka, que ya ha demostrado que es mucho más que el ayudante que fue de Mourinho. Allí está un buen amigo, Damià Abella, que sigue recuperándose de una grave lesión. Ha tenido muy mala suerte porque empezó la temporada como titular y espero que vuelva lo antes posible a jugar. Pero por muy bien que estén, en Blackpool tendrán que sufrir y mucho. Además, sobre la ‘alfombra’ de Bloomfield las fuerzas se igualan y vamos a salir a morir para seguir con esperanzas.

Gracias por estar ahí. Al pueblo tangerine no puedo más que agradecerle que mantenga su apoyo incondicional hacia el equipo a pesar de todo lo que está pasando. Y sí, estamos malheridos… Pero aún respiramos.

¡¡Vamooosssss!!

The most difficult win

por
Bloomfield Road

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To play in the rain can be really tough; if you play in the mud, the snow or the ice it becomes a real physical challenge, but there is nothing worse than the wind. Well there is, windy conditions combined with the grass (?) of Bloomfield Road. The bad pitch combined with the wind made playing football almost an impossible challenge. Not only was it annoying but very difficult. You attempt to get the ball down to try to play it and then…the pitch is so bad that you can’t control the ball or make a good pass. However, amidst all this craziness we managed to win on Saturday against Brighton and it’s very difficult for me to write about Brighton as a rival…

But before that I must talk about us, Blackpool. Many things can be said about our team, you can talk about our limitations but we do deserve some credit because this is a group that, despite all the knock downs, gets up and keeps fighting. On Saturday we had another amazing surprise: we got to the changing room 2 hours before the game just to find out that Ishmael Miller’s shirt wasn’t there, we all looked at each other in confusion as we had assumed he was going to be in the first eleven and we suddenly found out that he wasn’t with us anymore. Miller is an important player, personality wise and historically and as it happens he won’t be with us anymore. Telford came out in his place and he showed that the youngsters in this team can be trusted, but the mood was strange as Big Ish’s departure made the changing room nervous. You read news articles like the one about Lewis, about unexpected departures, about new signings… a Russian roulette that we are not used to and that makes everything even harder. But that, at the same time, makes you feel proud that you kept going, we are at our limit but we are still alive.

You try even harder. You look at the sky and beg for the wind to stop, you look down and realise the pitch is also an enemy. But you look to the stands and you get energy as you discover that, despite everything, the fans are still with us. They support us and you know that, even if it is just for two hours, they put away their frustration and try to help us out. It’s simply amazing.

We won a very special game. Not just because of they are a rival (as this is a very personal matter) but because it was the week after what happened at Watford. It had been a very intense week which started with a very useful meeting. There weren’t any reproaches or accusations or long faces. We simply talked about the fact that it couldn’t happen again and we worked all week like hungry lions. I can assure you that I haven’t been that tired for many weeks. The intensity in the training sessions was really high, everybody was pushing themselves to the limit and it worked out well.

It wasn’t easy for me because, although I wanted these 3 points more than anybody, I knew that my rivals were also my friends. I have always been able to disconnect from what is happening around me once I get out onto the pitch but this time it was very special. Especially during today’s football as it seems players just play for money because our agents want to win 2 extra pounds somewhere else and you find yourself packing again without knowing whether it is the right choice or not.

I understood that my history with Brighton was real, special and unforgettable. I understood why, as the game approached, I had that funny feeling when I went to visit them at their hotel on Friday, and even more so on Saturday at Bloomfield Road. I heard those songs that once were mine and that my daughter keeps singing, I saw my “bro” Calde warming up on the side line, I saw Bruno, Greer, Caskey… I turned around so as not to look at them and focused on the Blackpool fans so as not to listen to the away ones. We won.

I was undoing my boots when Jamie O’Hara scored. We shall see who can deal with him now because he even counts the assists that he completes in the training sessions, so we are in for an interesting week! He deserves big congratulations, as despite not having a perfect day he stepped up and was brave enough to take a free kick which ended up going in superbly. I celebrated the goal with passion and crossed my fingers and spent a very long 10 minutes asking the referee to blow the whistle. How long that felt!

I felt sorry, I am sorry, for Brighton of course. I am not ashamed to say it out loud because that is how I feel. I enjoyed it there with Poyet and I learned lots with Oscar, but overall I found a big family that I can never forget. On Friday I went to their hotel and I was embarrassed by the sincere appreciation that everyone showed me. I managed to say hi to Gibbo, a very kind person who always stands by the players and who is a special friend. I spoke with the physio’s Wato and Anthony as if it had been yesterday when they took care of me. I hugged them, and I hugged Paul the photographer, and Joaquin and the guys from the media department. Of course I had a long chat with Calde and Bruno, as I did with all the other players. I had dinner with them as if we were still playing together and it confirmed something I already knew, we will be friends forever.

It wasn’t a great football game and when I replayed the game at night in my head, I realised we won because we had more faith and we fought harder. Sometimes people talk too much about tactics and strategy when something as simple as the commitment can make a huge difference. That and the quality, because Jamie’s free kick was pure quality. I had a tough game as every time I had the ball, Rohan Ince would come up to help the left back and that player has longer legs than Maria Sharapova (albeit uglier ones!). I tried to out run him but I didn’t manage so I tried my best to control the ball. I worked really hard looking for assists, passing and fighting. I was knackered when I got to the changing room. I gave everything and drove back home shattered but thinking that we are back on the right track.

I have explained how my happiness is also mixed with sadness for Brighton. I will explain. If you look at the table they still pretty low down and if you compare it with last year, the team is very different. Their football is very different and now I understand the huge job that both Poyet and Oscar did when they were there. I remember the 3rd of May in Nottingham when Leo Ulloa scored in the 92nd minute to give us the pass to the promotion playoff. It was an unforgettable feeling that will stay with me forever. I hope our mission to avoid relegation doesn’t mean that they will go down. I wish.

We need to keep going. We must now win away from home. We are the only team who hasn’t won an away game yet and we really need to win away from Bloomfield Road to let our rivals know that we are going to keep on fighting. We have shown in our home games that we are not an easy rival for anybody and although Norwich is currently fighting for the promotion positions we are obligated to try to scare them as the wounded lions we are. After that we will have Middlesbrough and Forest and these three games must make a difference.
Don’t count us out yet.

Come oooooon!

Translated by Alfons Vinent.

La victoria más difícil

por
Bloomfield Road

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Jugar con lluvia puede ser incómodo. Ya no digo con barro, que se convierte en una prueba física enorme o con nieve y hielo, en una lotería… Pero no hay nada peor que el viento. Bueno, sí: el viento combinado con el ¿césped? de Bloomfield Road. Si el campo llama al viento y se dan un festín, intentar jugar al fútbol es un examen brutal, difícil. Nada de incómodo o antipático, sino algo mucho peor. Bajas el balón como buenamente puedes al suelo para mimarlo y entonces… El suelo es el otro enemigo que se empeña en que no puedas conducir o pasar con lógica. Y en toda esa locura acabamos ganando el sábado al Brighton. Y qué difícil se hace escribir del Brighton como rival.

Pero antes tengo que hablar de nosotros, del Blackpool. Se podrán decir muchas cosas de nuestro equipo. Se podrá hablar de nuestras limitaciones, que las tenemos, pero algo de crédito deberán darnos porque este es un grupo que a cada día que pasa recibe un nuevo golpe y sigue levantándose para continuar la pelea. El sábado tuvimos la última sorpresa alucinante: llegamos al vestuario un par de horas antes del partido y descubrimos que la camiseta de Ishmael Miller no estaba colgada junto a las demás. Nos miramos atónitos y sin comprender nada porque el viernes era titular y de sopetón descubrimos que ya no estaba con nosotros. Miller era un tío con peso en el vestuario, con galones, con personalidad, y resulta que ya no lo tendremos como compañero. Salió Telford en su lugar y demostró que podemos confiar en los chavales jóvenes, pero quedó en el ambiente un sentimiento extraño por la marcha de Big Ish que provocó, provoca, esta incomodidad en la plantilla. Lees noticias como la de Lewis, te enteras de salidas inesperadas, de fichajes… Una ruleta a la que no estás habituado, que lo hace todo más difícil y que, a la vez, te hace sentir orgulloso de salir adelante. Con el agua al cuello, pero demostrando que sigues vivo.

Todo lo haces con una rabia multiplicada. Miras al cielo y suplicas que pare el viento; miras al suelo y maldices ese terreno de juego que es otro enemigo. Pero miras al graderío y tomas fuerzas de donde no las hay porque descubres que a pesar de todo la gente está de tu lado, te acompaña con su ánimo y aunque sea por dos horas aparca la frustración que siente con todo lo que ocurre para empujarte. Es, sencillamente, alucinante.

Ganamos un partido especial. No por el rival (porque eso era un tema muy personal) sino porque veníamos de ‘lo de Watford’. Había sido una semana intensa que comenzamos con una reunión que dio mucho de sí. No hubo reproches ni acusaciones ni malas caras. Simplemente nos dijimos que eso no podía repetirse en base a lo que había ocurrido. Y trabajamos toda la semana como leones heridos. Os aseguro que pocas semanas he llegado día tras día tan cansado a casa después de entrenar. Hubo una intensidad bárbara, una entrega de todos brutal, unas ganas que entendí nos tenían que empujar hasta el límite. Y salió bien.

No fue fácil para mi porque aunque quería esos tres puntos más que nadie enfrente tenía a rivales que son amigos. Siempre he sabido abstraerme de lo que ocurre a mi alrededor cuando salgo al campo, pero esta vez fue especial. Mucho. En el fútbol actual, los deportistas nos movemos por interés, porque nuestros agentes quieren ganar dos euros más en un sitio que en otro y te encuentras a veces haciendo las maletas sin estar convencido de hacer lo correcto. Y entendí que lo mío con Brighton fue real, especial e inolvidable. Lo entendí a medida que se acercaba el partido y si ya tuve esa sensación el viernes, cuando fui a verles al hotel, me golpeó el sábado en Bloomfield Road. Escuché esas canciones que en su día eran mías y que mi hija sigue cantando, vi al otro lado calentando a mi hermano Calde, a Bruno, a Greer, al joven Caskey… Me di la vuelta para no mirarlos y me centré en el ánimo de la hinchada del Blackpool para no escuchar la de los que habían venido desde Brighton. Y ganamos.

Aún estaba sacándome las botas en el banquillo cuando la clavó Jamie O’Hara. A ver quien le aguanta ahora, porque cuenta hasta las asistencias que da en los entrenamientos y nos espera una buena semana. Pero se merece una felicitación enorme porque sin tener el día a balón parado dio un paso al frente, valiente, para chutar la falta y la metió por la escuadra con una calidad enorme. Lo grité como un poseso y crucé los dedos pasándome diez minutos largos pidiendo la hora. ¡Qué largo se hizo ese final!

Lo sentí, lo siento, por el Brighton, desde luego. Y no me avergüenza decirlo en voz alta porque así lo pienso. Allí disfruté con Poyet y aprendí mucho con Òscar pero, por encima de todo, encontré una gran familia que no olvido. El viernes estuve en su hotel y me abrumó el cariño sincero que todos me mostraron. Pude saludar a Gibbo, un tipo entrañable que siempre está al lado de los jugadores y que es un amigo especial. Charlé con los fisios Wato y Anthony como si no hubiera pasado un día desde la última vez que me mimaron en la camilla y el gimnasio. Me abracé con ellos y con Paul, el fotógrafo, con Joaquín y con los chicos del media department. Y, claro, con Calde y Bruno, como con todos los jugadores que siguen en el equipo. Cené con ellos como si siguiéramos siendo compañeros y confirmé algo que ya sabía: seremos amigos toda la vida.

El partido tuvo poco fútbol y aunque me centré en lo mío por la noche lo estuve repitiendo en mi mente con una mirada más amplia. Ganamos porque tuvimos más fe, más pelea. A veces la gente se mata hablando de tácticas y estrategias cuando algo tan simple como la voluntad puede decantar la balanza. Eso y la calidad, porque la falta de Jamie era calidad en letras mayúsculas. A mi me tocó bailar con la más fea porque cada vez que recibía el balón aparecía Rohan Ince a ayudar al lateral y este tío tiene las piernas más largas que Maria Sharapova (aunque también más feas). Intenté echarle una carrera y no hubo manera, así que hice lo imposible por bajar balones que caían con plomo. Trabajé como un poseso buscando ayudas, combinando y peleando. Y llegué al vestuario muerto. Di todo lo que tenía y volví a casa en el coche sin sentir ni las pestañas, pensando que ese es el mensaje adecuado hasta final de temporada.

He dicho que a la felicidad que sentí se le mezcló un sentimiento de pena por el Brighton. Me explico. Si miras la clasificación no está para tirar cohetes y si lo comparas con el año pasado es un equipo diferente. Son ellos, los mismos, pero con un fútbol muy distinto al que hicimos los dos últimos años. Desde la distancia es difícil opinar, pero ahora entiendo el gran trabajo que hicieron tanto Poyet como Òscar allí. Y recuerdo aquel tres de mayo en Nottingham, cuando marcó Leo Ulloa en el minuto 92 para clasificarnos al play-off de ascenso. Fue una sensación de felicidad imborrable que me acompañará siempre. Ojalá nuestra misión de salvarnos no provoque su descenso. Ojalá.

Seguimos. Ahora nos toca dar el golpe lejos de casa. Somos el único equipo que no ha ganado como visitante y necesitamos ganar fuera de Bloomfield Road para hacer entender a los que están por encima nuestro que vamos a dar mucha pelea todavía. Hemos demostrado que los partidos en casa no van a ser cómodos para nadie y aunque el Norwich está en la pelea por el play-off estamos obligados a hacerles sentir el miedo de ese león herido que somos. Después vendrán seguidos el Middlesbrough y el Forest y estos tres partidos tienen que significar ‘algo’ para nosotros.

Que no nos den por muertos.

¡Vamoooooooossss!

La peor de las pesadillas

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Llegas a casa por la noche, después de un largo viaje desde Londres en silencio. Hace mucho tiempo que no escuchaba el silencio como el sábado. A veces piensas qué ha pasado, a veces te lamentas de un error, de una jugada concreta, de un mal pase, de… De mil cosas. El sábado, por primera vez en mucho tiempo, no podía pensar en nada. Se asemejaba al despertar de una pesadilla, que te hace sentir fatal aunque no consigas recordarla. Y te invade un sentimiento depresivo, una frustración muy grande.

No hicimos el ridículo en el campo del Watford, porque el ridículo, creo, lo hace aquel que no sale a competir. Y salimos a competir. Y competimos. Y disfrutamos… Hasta que se apagó la luz. Y cuando se apagó la luz sufrimos el peor aplastamiento que he vivido en mi carrera. Siete goles en 45 minutos. Peor aún, cinco en veinte. “¡Bien, bien! Aguantamos su salida en la segunda parte y tenemos la victoria” nos decíamos en el descanso, cuando ganábamos por 0-2. Es imposible explicar lo que vino después. Y más imposible aún entenderlo. No hicimos el ridículo pero nos humillaron de la manera más cruel que puedo recordar.

Por primera vez en mi vida no sé explicar qué ocurrió. El primer gol del Watford nació de una falta clarísima y era fuera de juego. Vale. Un golpe bajo, pero que para nada excusa la forma en que bajamos los brazos sin darnos cuenta de lo que estaba pasando. Ellos parecían aviones y nosotros un grupo de desconocidos que se juntan para hacer una pachanga. Nos mirábamos sin vernos, corríamos como pollos sin cabeza como diría Toshack y caímos en la peor de las humillaciones.

Perdón. ¿Perdón? Sí. Esta vez, me pongo en la piel de los aficionados que nos acompañaron y no sé ni como excusarme. Hubo un momento en que pensé “Me hago el cojo, pido el cambio y me largo de esta locura”, pero de forma automática me respondía que no podía borrarme de manera tan ruín y que tenía que poder mirarme al espejo sin sentir vergüenza. Aunque de verdad que la sentí.

Hace algunas semanas que sentía que iba a más, me lo repetía y estaba convencido que marcar un gol era lo único que me faltaba… Madre mía. Lo marqué y enloquecí de contento sin poder ni sospechar lo que me esperaba. Un gol, la sensación máxima de un futbolista para acabar de esa manera.

Al acabar el partido el vestuario el peor escenario que se pueda imaginar. Estuvimos media hora hablando, sin reproches, sin gritos. Intentando adivinar qué había pasado, intentando comprender aquello. Después, el silencio. Cada uno, supongo, se escondía en sus propios lamentos. Si me pongo en la piel de Elliot puedo imaginar su hundimiento, si pienso en Clarke intuyo como dejó el campo después que nos metiera Ighalo el 3-2. Era de locos. Como una película de terror.

Y después, el viaje de vuelta. El míster y algunos compañeros se quedaron en Londres y yo me pasé todo el camino mirando a ninguna parte. Contesté tres o cuatro mensajes de móvil por simple agradecimiento a mis amigos que me consolaban y me deprimí más todavía. Es en estas ocasiones cuando pienso en quienes me dicen “¡Qué buena es la vida de un futbolista profesional!” para poder recordarles lo dura que es la otra cara de la moneda, la frustración que puedes sentir, la pena, la rabia y la impotencia.

Escuché un silencio tan incómodo que aún hoy me agobia. Llegué a casa pasadas las diez de la noche y tuve por lo menos el abrazo inocente, sincero y cariñoso de mis hijas. Fueron cinco, quizá diez minutos de paz y de una ayuda psicológica especial. Y después Laura. No me dijo nada. Me abrazó trasladándome su acompañamiento y entendió esa sensación de vacío. Me conoce tanto, nos conocemos tan bien, que sabemos cuando necesitamos ese espacio de soledad.

Por primera vez en mucho tiempo no dormí en toda la noche y como un autómata ayer por la mañana cometí la estupidez de buscar el reportaje del partido. Más daño todavía. Allí, en apenas dos minutos y medio se ven todos los goles. Pero tu cabeza descubre qué pasó inmediatamente antes, cómo se perdió ese balón, cómo no se mantuvo aquella posición, cómo no hiciste esa falta, cómo no se ayudó aquella cobertura.

Y me volví a hundir. “No lo pienses más”, me dijo Laura intentando darme un ánimo imposible. Siempre he dicho que no me rindo, que cuanto peor están las cosas más peleo por cambiarlas. Me encuentro bien físicamente, sé que estoy bien y no es un ‘decir por decir’ porque más allá de entrenadores, amigos o aduladores interesados uno mismo sabe la verdad. Y me rebelo contra todo esto porque soy así.

El sábado viene el Brighton, que ayer perdió 3-2 en la FA Cup contra el Arsenal y no está atravesando su mejor momento en la Liga. No descubro nada diciendo que será un partido especial porque me enfrentaré a mi ex equipo, en el que juega mi ‘hermano’ Calderón y en el que dejé muchos amigos, pero en el campo tendré más rabia que nunca. No por ellos, no por nada, sino por mi mismo, por mi equipo, por mis compañeros, mi entrenador y nuestros aficionados.

Siempre quise ser futbolista. Y hoy sigo queriéndolo. Si es verdad que de las peores experiencias se aprende, espero haber aprendido mucho de lo que pasó el sábado en Londres.

The worst of the nightmares

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I got home last night after a long trip from London in complete silence. It has been a long time since I have listened to the sound of silence like we did on Saturday. Sometimes you wonder what happened, you are sorry about an error, about a particular mistake, a bad pass… A thousand things. On Saturday, for the first time in a while, I couldn’t think about anything. It felt like waking up from a nightmare that makes you feel bad, even though can’t remember what the nightmare was about. And you feel down and frustrated.

We didn’t make a fool of ourselves I think, because at least we got out there and competed. We went for it, and we competed and we enjoyed it… until the lights were switched off. When that happened, we suffered the worse defeat that I have lived through in my career. Seven goals in 45 minutes. Even worse, five in twenty. “Good, good, we hold them up in the second half and we get the win” we were saying at half time when we were 2-0 up. It is impossible to explain what happened next. Even more impossible is to understand it. We didn’t make a fool of ourselves but we were humiliated in the most cruel manner I can remember.

For the first time in my life I can’t explain what happened. Watford’s first goal came from a very clear fault and moreover it was off side. Ok, that was a cheap shot and no justification of why we lowered our arms. We didn’t realise what was going on. They looked like a well oiled machine and we were a bunch of blokes who didn’t know each other and got together to kick the ball around. We were looking at each other without seeing each other, we were running around like headless chickens and we were humiliated.

I am sorry. Sorry? Yes, this time I really feel for the fans who came to support us and I can’t say sorry enough. There was a moment in which I thought – I could fake an injury, get substituted and run away from this craziness. But immediately I thought I wouldn’t be able to do that without feeling ashamed of myself when I looked in the mirror. I felt ashamed of myself anyway.

A few weeks ago I had the feeling that I was improving, I kept repeating that to myself and I was convinced that a goal was all I needed. I scored and went crazy without knowing what was to come. A goal, the best sensation for a football player, just to end up that way…

At the end of the game the mood in the changing room was baffling. We spent half an hour talking, without reproaches, without shouting…Trying to explain what had happened, trying to understand what happened. Later, the silence came. I guess everybody was dealing with it in their own way. If I think about Elliot I can imagine how he felt, if I think about Clarke I can guess how he felt when he left the pitch after Ighalo scored the 3-2. It was just crazy, like a horror movie.

The return trip was bad. The coach and some of the players stayed in London and I spent the whole trip looking nowhere. I answered 3 or 4 messages that were trying to cheer me up, but they made me even more down. On these occasions you think about the times people tell you how good the life of a professional player is. Sometimes you need to remind them how hard it is, the frustration you feel, the anger, the sadness and the powerlessness.

I listened to the sound of silence. It was so annoying that it still bothers me. I arrived at home after 10pm and at least I got an innocent, sincere and caring hug off my two daughters. There were five, maybe ten minutes of peace which helped me psychologically. Then Laura. She didn’t say anything. She just hugged me to show her support and understanding. She knows me so well, we know each other so well, that we know when we need some space and words aren’t necessary.

Again, for the first time in a while I didn’t sleep all night and when I got up, I was silly enough to look for the game’s highlights. Even more pain. You see all the goals in barely two minutes but your head discovers what happened before and after, how the ball was lost, how the position was maintained, that fault, that defensive cover… I got depressed again. “Stop thinking about it” Laura told me, trying to cheer me up. I have always said that I never surrender, that when the situation is tough I will fight even harder. I feel good physically, I know I am ok and I am not saying this for the sake of it, because you know when you are good despite what the coaches or friends say. I rebel against this situation because that is the way I am!

On Saturday we are playing against Brighton who lost 3-2 against Arsenal in the FA Cup and are not at their best. It’s not a surprise to say that it will be a very special game for me because I will play against my former team, where my “bro” Calderon plays and a team in which I have lots of friends. But on the pitch I will play with anger. Not at them but for myself, for my team, my teammates, my coach and our fans.

I always wanted to be a football player. I still want to be one. If it’s true that you have to learn from your mistakes, I hope we have learned a lot about what happened on Saturday in London.

Translated by Alfons Vinent.

Remar es cosa de todos

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Ayer fue un domingo muy largo, de esos que las horas no pasan y la resaca por el partido del sábado hace insoportable. Fuera todo nevado, temperaturas bajo cero, un frío glacial que te invita a pensar y reflexionar por lo sucedido. El Wolves es un gran equipo y juega en un estadio precioso que el sábado se llenó para homenajear al que fuera dueño del club, Sir Jack Hayward, fallecido hace pocos días y al que consideran salvador de la entidad. Estamos en polos opuestos…

No jugamos mal en la primera parte. Plantamos cara y solo tuvimos un error (muy bestia) que pudo costarnos un gol, pero aguantamos y mostramos una muy buena intensidad… Pero en la segunda parecía que el campo hacía bajada hacia nuestra portería. Fue un sufrimiento continuo y aunque sea difícil de aceptar que te marquen cuando acaricias el empate parecía que ellos necesitasen los puntos más que nosotros, cuando era precisamente lo contrario. Si cuando lo damos todo ya tenemos dificultades, si nos dejamos algo en el vestuario la misión se convierte en imposible y nos quedamos sin opción ninguna.

Cuando se acabó el partido el vestuario era un auténtico funeral y el entrenador sacó toda la rabia. Con razón. Porque o nos subimos todos al barco con rabia o esto se hunde sin remedio. Porque remar es cosa de todos, con rabia y tesón. Y ahora más que nunca porque estamos en el momento de la verdad y tenemos que dar ese paso adelante. No nos ayuda ir a Watford la semana que viene y menos en estas condiciones, pero no queda otra que levantarnos. Cuando miré como fue toda la jornada comprobé que estuvimos muchos minutos a un gol de colocarnos a cinco puntos de la salvación. Estamos otra vez a nueve. La montaña sigue ahí delante y la escalada se hace cada día más complicada.

Ayer pasé la mañana viendo el Sporting de Gijón-Betis de la 2ª División española, un partido que le dio mil vueltas a otros que he visto esta temporada de Primera. El aliciente era que mi amigo Dani Pacheco empezaba de titular con el Betis de Pepe Mel, el entrenador que me dio la alternativa como profesional en el Alavés… Hace tanto tiempo. Acabó por ser la primera derrota en casa del Sporting, pero me quedé prendado de lo bien trabajado que tiene Abelardo a su equipo. Abelardo fue, para quienes no lo sepan en Inglaterra (en España lo sabe todo el mundo), un gran central en el Barcelona y está claro que se le han quedado las ideas que le enseñaron allí porque vale la pena ver a su equipo, repleto de juventud y con la caja vacía.

Al final ganó, remontando, el Betis, que es un equipo más hecho, con futbolistas más contrastados y que supongo estará en la lucha por el ascenso con más opciones que el Sporting. Pero fue un partido que valió mucho la pena ver… A pesar de las dificultades que me puso Norah porque, claro, enerrado en casa es difícil concentrarse en algo con las dos pequeñas revoloteando. Está, Norah, obsesionada con que el Lobo Feroz vive en nuestro jardín y aunque se sabe el cuento de memoria porque se lo cuento unas 500 veces a la semana cada vez que aparece el Lobo pone cara de susto, por mucho que le haya puesto la cara de Íñigo Calderón y le quiera con locura. Lo siento Calde, pero con esa barba eres el Lobo Feroz.

En dos semanas podré decírselo cara a cara y será difícil, porque jugamos en Bloomfield Road contra el Brighton uno de esos partidos que pueden definir muchas cosas. Ellos perdieron el sábado en casa contra el Brentford y no están para tirar cohetes tampoco pero, bueno, no hace falta decir como estamos nosotros.

Fuera del campo la semana fue entretenida. Vino a visitarnos Jaume, el hermano de mi mujer por quien Norah siente una especial predilección. Hace con él lo que quiere… Y ahora se nos marcha a vivir a Bali. Freixenet ha confiado en él para ser su jefe comercial en Indonesia y ojalá allí pueda sacar todo lo que tiene dentro porque se le abre un mundo de oportunidades. Le fui a enseñar Blackpool pero casi no pudimos ni bajarnos del coche porque el viento que hizo durante toda la semana fue increíble. Tanto que hasta tuvimos que cambiar el plan de entrenamiento porque no se podía estar al aire libre y fuimos a un centro con campos indoor para preparar el partido contra el Wolves. Hablando de Jaume, si vais a Bali de viaje y veis a los autóctonos un poco contentos por el cava, sabed que él es el gran responsable!

El martes pasado José Cubero y yo fuimos a visitar a los niños del Claremont Primary School en Blackpool. Siempre me apunto a estas actividades. Ya os dije que me encanta el contacto con los críos y disfruté tanto como lo hacía en mis tiempos en el Brighton. Fuimos a diferentes clases y nos hicieron mil preguntas que intentamos responder con la mejor de las intenciones para transmitirles algo de lo que hemos aprendido como futbolistas profesionales. Ojalá les sirva, sea cual sea el camino que elijan. La cuestión es hacerles ver la importancia de llevar una vida sana, pelear por lo que uno quiere y no desistir nunca, ya seas futbolista, profesor o cualquier otra cosa. Curiosamente la única persona que se acercó a nosotros a decirnos que quería ser futbolista como nosotros fue una niña y eso me hizo tanta ilusión que la animé a perseguir ese sueño. Espero que a sus padres les gustase la charla.

Nuestro sueño a cumplir hoy por hoy es seguir siendo un club de Championship. ¿Difícil? Seguro, pero os animo a echar una ojeada no solo a la clasificación y mirar algunas rachas de equipos. El Forest llevaba una racha horrible y fue a ganarle el derbi al Derby y en su campo; el Fulham, que llevaba tres derrotas seguidas, le ganó en el último suspiro al Reading y el Rovers, que en la jornada 19 estaba en puestos de promoción está hoy ocho puntos por debajo del sexto, que es el Watford, nuestro rival del sábado…

Un saludo a todos y en especial a los que nos acompañaron el sábado en Wolverhampton. Que sepan, ellos y todos los que sigan leyéndome en este espacio, que vamos a seguir peleando. La rendición nunca entró en mi vocabulario.

Vamooooooossss

We all have to pull together

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Yesterday was a long Sunday, one on those in which the hours go slow and the anguish over Saturday’s game becomes unbearable. Outside there is snow everywhere and below freezing temperatures, very cold weather that makes you think about what happened. Wolves are a great team and they play in a beautiful stadium that was full on Saturday to honour Sir Jack Hayward, once owner of the club, who passed away a few days ago. We are in opposite poles…

We didn’t play badly in the first half. We stood tall against them and we only made one very big mistake which nearly ended up in a goal, but we held them and we played with good intensity. But in the second half it felt like the pitch was downhill to their goal. It was continuous suffering and although it was hard to accept the fact that they equalised so near the end, they made it looked like they needed the points more than we do, when it is actually the other way round. If when we give our all to the game, we struggle, but when we leave the intensity in the changing room it becomes mission impossible.

When the game finished the changing room looked like a funeral parlour and the coach got really annoyed. He had a reason to be so upset, because we either all pull together or this boat will sink. We all have to pull together with rage and tenacity. Now more than ever because every game is crucial and we have to really step forward. It doesn’t help having to play Watford next week but we have to get up and fight. When I looked at all the results after, I realised that we were so close to be 5 points from salvation. We are 9 points from the safe positions again. The mountain is still here and the climb is harder every day.

Yesterday I spent the morning watching Sporting de Gijón v Betis from the 2nd Spanish division, a game that was better than many premier games I’ve seen this season. I watched mainly because my friend Dani Pacheco was in the starting line-up for Betis, coached by Pepe Mel, the coach who gave me the opportunity of being a professional at Alaves. It’s been a long time! The game ended up being the first home defeat by Sporting, but I really liked the way Abelardo has worked that team. Abelardo was a great center back who played with Barça and you can see he is applying the ideas that he learned in Barcelona, with a very young team and in a club who hasn’t got much money to spend.

In the end Betis won by coming from behind. They are a better quality team, with experienced players and I believe they will be fighting for promotion with better chances than Sporting. It was a nice game to watch, despite having Norah around me running all over the house! Norah is obsessed with the bogie man and she is convinced he lives in our garden, and despite knowing the story by hand, as I have read it to her around 500 times, she still gets scared, even though I have given it the friendly face of Íñigo Calderón whom she loves dearly. I am sorry Calde, but with that beard you are the bogie man!

In two weeks I will be able to tell him face to face because we will play in Bloomfield Road against Brighton and it will be one of those games which could decide many things. They lost on Saturday at home against Brentford and they are not in a good position either, but still better than ours.

On a personal note, the week was very entertaining. My sister’s brother Jaume, came to visit and Norah really likes him. She does whatever she wants with him… Now he is moving to Bali, Freixenet (the cava makers) are sending him to be their commercial manager in Indonesia and I hope he will succeed. A new world of opportunities opens in front of him now. I wanted to show him Blackpool but we could hardly get out of the car as it was extremely windy all week. We even had to change the training plan because we couldn’t train outdoors and we went to an indoor complex to prepare for the game against Wolves. Talking about Jaume, if you ever go to Bali and you see the locals talking about Cava, you know whose fault it is!

On Tuesday, Jose Cubero and I went to visit the children at Claremont Primary School in Blackpool. I always volunteer to do these activities. I already told you that I really like spending time with the little ones as I used to do it during my time at Brighton. We went to different classes and they asked us lots of questions that we tried to answer in the best possible way to try to convey some of the things that we have learned as professional footballers. I hope these will help them in whatever they decide to do in the future. The important thing is to try to let them know about the importance of living a healthy life, to fight for their dreams and to never give up, whether you are a footballer, a teacher or anything else. Funny enough, the only kid who approached us to let us know she wanted to be a footballer was a girl and I encouraged her to follow her dream. I hope her parents will approve of my words!

Our dream today is to remain in the Championship. Hard? Very much so. But I would like you to check the table and to look at some of the teams. Forest have had a really bad patch and they managed to beat Derby away; Fulham, that had lost the last 3 games, managed to beat Reading in the last minute of the game and Rovers, that on day 19 were in the promotion spots are now 8 points below Watford, who are 6th and play against us on Saturday…

Greetings to everybody, especially those who came to support us at Wolverhampton. You must know that we will keep fighting. The word surrender doesn’t exist in my vocabulary.

Come oooooon!

Translated by Alfons Vinent.

Happy New 2015

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millwall

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I like football for many reasons and one of these is that it offers you the possibility of getting revenge in the blink of an eye. I spent my first Boxing Day at home without playing since I arrived in England when things were at their worst (after 4 games without playing). Certain circumstances made me play against Rotherham and from there it’s like the previous month never happened. I enjoyed it against Aston Villa and played again against Millwall. And I finally played a full game!! If you work hard, football always gives you another chance. It is funny but 2015 has started brighter, with better sensations and with more optimism. Football wise, happier. A new year to enjoy. Let’s enjoy, fight and work to show everybody that we can get out of this one.

In Sheffield, on Boxing Day, we had two injuries and one sending off, so I was at least on the bench against Rotherham. Without time to think about it, only 20 minutes into the game, I had to come on to substitute Perkins, who got injured and things went rather well. We managed to equalise right at the end and from there, everything has improved. I think those were my best minutes since I arrived at Blackpool, and even though in the first half we really suffered, later in the second half our performance was much better.

But if I start from the end, things are even better. The game against Millwall on Saturday was a final for us. Yes, I know that given our position in the table, every game is like a final, but beating Millwall was twice as important so they didn’t gain an almost definite advantage over us. The way our pitch is at the moment to play football is rather difficult. I call it grass but it is hard to find a square meter of proper grass and when I find some I will do the Mexican wave. I keep looking but can’t find it but I keep my head high and try not to worry too much about it. We fought, we kept pushing, we helped each other, we passed the ball well and finally luck was on our side.

Against Aston Villa I had played nearly all the game and on Saturday I played the whole 90 minutes and I felt really good. This is great because when you gain trust, your hopes get high and the ball stops been a rock. If you are bad on the ball, it will always pay you back, and in the last two games I have noticed there is chemistry between the ball and I.

The luck I was talking about is the one which we didn’t have in Birmingham. At Villa Park I had my debut with Swansea in the Premier. It was the 2nd January and I will never forget it because Brendan Rodgers never gave me many chances. We travelled just the day before. That day he selected 21 players and I was used to being the one not selected but after we arrived at the hotel and finished the technical speech and dinner, he pulled me aside and told me I was going to be in the first eleven. “I know you have hardly played and I don’t think you are not expecting this, but what I know you can play football and it is now time to start showing it”. That is what he told me. I remember it because it really surprised me. And we won. It was our first away win and I played a good game.

Well, two years later I was back at Villa Park with Blackpool in the FA Cup. Fantastic. A very nice ground with spectacular grass. To play on a green pitch was great!! I can assure you it feels different and you lower the difference there could be between two teams of different categories. We gave them a tough game, we ran like lions and we were so close to victory that in the end the defeat really hurt us. If I hadn’t gone blank in the 85th minute I would still be jumping for joy. Lewis passed me a long ball and when I look ahead I saw only grass. I ran like mad and with my energy levels quite low I was done when I got to the box, being left footed I had to dribble with my right foot and didn’t manage to score. Few seconds later I was substituted and suddenly Benteke scored for Villa in the 89th minute.

A shame. It really hurt us despite knowing that our battle was somewhere else but we gained a bit of encouragement and we knew that if we played that way against Milwall, we wouldn’t miss again. To draw on Saturday wouldn’t have been terrible and to lose a secure relegation, so you can imagine how happy we were after the win. When Peter scored just past the half hour I paid attention at the reaction of our fans and it was like an adrenaline injection. They went crazy! The believed in us and pushed us a lot. There was some kind of special connection and I felt it on the pitch and realised that nothing is impossible no matter how hard it seems. I also felt an important part of the team and although I haven’t scored yet, I feel that good that I think it will happen soon.

Now we are travelling to Wolves who have only won one game in the last five at home and after that to Watford’s Vicarage Road that, like Wolves, are also fighting for promotion. They are two very difficult games but I can feel a special atmosphere in the changing room and I feel like I have convinced our coach of what I can give to the team. Moreover those grounds have proper green grass!!! Jokes aside, it is true that the pitch makes a big difference.

I want to talk a bit about this Christmas, quite far away already, but before let me talk about my dearest friends Edu and Joan Oriol who are leaving Blackpool. I have said many times before that I really care for them and these last few months that we have been together, we have developed a friendship that will last for a long time. These are club affairs and one cannot really talk about it but I will really miss them and I still think they have lots of football in their boots. I can only wish them the best of luck and that they find a team in which they can show how good they are. Despite all the “problems” they have given me I still care so much for them.

To finish the article, Christmas. It is now quite far away but they were very nice days. I was looking forward to seeing my family and to spend some quiet days with them, eating and enjoying their company and being as relaxed as possible considering the training regime, and so it was. Santa was very good and there was only one present which was a bit suspicious: he had been asked to bring a “child walker” and so he did, but it came as a big car with wing mirrors, steering wheel, and funny lights and sounds. The other option a bit more feminine was a pink spotted turtle. The choice was a logical one and there were some surprised reactions. Anyway, the intention is what counts and the walker has ended up being very successful, of course!

I hope you will read my article next week with the same positive energy as this one. And since I wished you a Merry Christmas in advance a few weeks before, let me now wish you belated Happy New Year for 2015. To all of you, without exception, hugs and kisses.

Come oooooooooooon!

Translated by Alfons Vinent.

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