He was already a veteran supporter of Newcastle, but Matthew Roche remembers the first time he saw them play in Minsk
Sorting through my Newcastle videos the other day I noticed several were missing. Where was the “Abject failure dressed up as excitement” compilation? Who had swiped my record of the abortive 1990-91 campaign? Then a guilty thought struck me – Dynamo Minsk must still have them.
It may have only been in the playground, but Neil Reynolds can remember coming to blows with somebody about a football match for the first time
I thumped him in the stomach; he reacted with a punch to my eye which jolted my head backwards. My reply was a jab to the nose which drew blood, and he countered with a hard left to my face. A teacher then stepped in and dragged us apart with honours even, or maybe even me marginally ahead; in truth, though, had the contest lasted more than a few seconds, I would have probably been pulverised.
Phil Tanner recalls a football match like no other he'd ever seen before
You probably know one. That non-League ground the train whistles past on the way to the game. I used to wonder what that place is slinking behind the gas holders between Slough and Paddington, glimpsed across a car lot with zillions of gleaming imports. Or maybe exports. Then one day, with favourable pollution readouts and the sun at the right angle, I glimpsed the logo on the stand roof. “Yeading AFC”. Now the only mystery is how to pronounce it…
Brazil may always have a reputation for fancy flicks and tricks, but Cris Freddi believes they have added a more physical element to their play in recent generations
Throughout their World Cup history Brazil have been torn between their traditional image of ‘the beautiful game’ and a compulsive need to match the Europeans at getting stuck in. It is surprising to discover which of the two has come out on to.
It's been a long time since Austria had a national team worth shouting about, but Mark Brownlow believes the country are looking forward to the World Cup
Until recently, your typical Austrian fan would approach an upcoming international fixture with an air of subdued pessimism. Strong opponents were “too good for us”, while weaker opponents might always turn out to be “another Faroes”. About halfway through the World Cup qualification, as Austria’s chances grew rosier with each passing game, the sweeper in my Sunday league team whispered to me confidentially: “I hope we don’t qualify – we’ll only embarrass ourselves."