Their section was pretty empty, which is somewhat disappointing given the geographical proximity of the clubs. Last season was horrible for Anderlecht. The club go by a number of different names, depending on what language you speak. Aachen took the lead with a simple near-post header from a corner and should have really gone on to finish Dusseldorf orf. While not everybody likes a modern stadium, it’s no ‘soulless bowl’, and is the perfect size for the club. Perhaps they thought I looked like one of those miserable people who wandered round the Christmas Market refusing to buy their overpriced shed-sustenance. Having spent the whole of half-time waiting, and not really moving, I decided to copy others and hop to the bar outside the stadium and bring my beer in. 6/10, Bornauw: Youth product making his full debut, looks like a composed unit of a player. Wolfsburg were in the ascendency for most of the first half with the Royal Blues hanging on. We also remembered that we had no ticket for the return journey, having not been able to buy one. Seeing a slow front three of Santini, Gerkens and Musona at Eupen without overlapping runs from midfield, the result was unsurprising. The home side huffed and puffed their way to a more-or-less deserved win, after going one down, making the natives very restless. 6/10, Santini: Scored a hat-trick, was always available as a target, and jogged his heart out. Final Score 2-1. Watching Anderlecht against Eupen and Lokeren, there appears to be a huge amount of cognitive dissonance and, to paraphrase Weiler, a lack of automatism. Only Colnect automatically matches collectibles you want with collectables collectors offer for sale or swap. The biggest barriers to this form of evolution are pride, ego and ignorance. Yet, there is enough talent in that squad to be performing far better than they currently are. This is Anderlecht, not Oostende. The club no longer exist. Speaking of getting carried away, a special mention must go out to the intoxicated spherical member of Anderlecht’s support, who decided to run onto the pitch and hug Santini after Anderlecht’s fourth goal. After the customary pat-down, we went straight for a couple of Hacker-Pschorr Helles, which were cold and lovely. The match itself was a bit of non-event, with moments of genius punctuating long passages of agricultural tackling, passes skidding off of the surface and out of play and shots that only threatened the fans at the top of the stands behind the goal. Two ‘session beers’ were hurriedly ordered, accompanied free of charge by the solid version of what had been smelled five minutes previous: cheeses, cured meats and focaccia. Women, and they are not an endangered species at German matches, were subject to similar felchery. Defensively, he was a total liability and was beaten 80% of the time by his opposite number. You have the right to decide whether you wish to allow certain types of cookies or not. That said, he turned KAA Gent into Belgian Champions for the first time in their history, so it was a logical appointment. Admiring the Blade Runner vista before entering what still looks nothing like a football stadium, we spied the dreaded cashless system for buying food and drink. With Sunday’s match fast approaching, trying to predict the starting lineup has become something of a game among the fanbase. Our exploration was thematic, vis-a-vis biergartens, but there is a wealth of culture, architecture and history to discover. Besides, free stuff always tastes better (although I only ate the focaccia). Everything is so slow, and allows the opposition defence to organise itself. The Ghelmaco Arena sparkles ostentatiously, and has become the intersectional vajazzle of the E40 motorway, causing stadium perverts to take their eyes off of the road, like sailors leering at mermaids before shipwrecking. Was only tested physically today, as Kortrijk lacked guile, but promising nevertheless. Once through the turnstiles, the senses were stimulated with the smell of dead animal and onion, the sound of deafness-inducing techno and the sight of fans in their best denims and brogues ready to sample the hospitality on offer. Virtus Entella were a Serie B club at the time and their 5500 capacity stadium seemed a good twenty minutes wade from our sanctuary. Fortuna Dusseldorf II spent more of the match defending but were seldom troubled. We knew we were approaching the stadium when the dwellings appeared more hastily constructed and affordable. It seems like Liege-Guillemins station is a black hole for rainclouds, engulfing the valley in a grey duvet of depression. A quick stroll past the adequate toilet bunker took us to a small standing area – feels like quite a stretch to label it a ‘Curva’. It is an old-fashioned stadium and is overflowing with character. None of them had enough time to make a significant impact, but debuts for two more youth players in Dauda and Kayembe is encouraging. The city was so busy that I felt like one of those lobotomised doormat men who follows the arrows around Ikea and smiles dutifully when prompted, as I slalomed between the huts and stray children. 8/10, Makarenko: Competent and assured in an understated way. At 1.50€ each, it was a cheap and pleasant way to break up the hike. For me, the perfect groundhopping trip would include an easy, cheap and comfortable journey with interesting scenery; a host town whose characteristics bleed authenticity (this could vary from the grim post-industrial splendour of Lens to the stunning architecture of Rome or Budapest); tasty fresh food in keeping with the characteristics of the town; fine beverages, reasonably priced and liberally flowing; a home team whose relationship with the town and community is symbiotic and inextricable (sorry franchise lovers); a stadium that exudes character over comfort; a ticket price that is not exploitative; an atmosphere that is lively and edgy but not too hostile; witnessing a match that entertains, either through competence, beauty, humour or drama; the ability to have a drink and watch the game at the same time (and not choke it down beforehand or in some overcrowded corridor); local police who do not treat you like a criminal because you happen to attend live football matches or because of how you look and last, but not least, the perfect groundhop must also have a little bit of scope for everything to potentially go badly wrong. Travel from Brussels was via the now familiar 0625 train from Brussels Midi to Frankfurt Airport, with a small wait for the connecting train to Munich, arriving at 1312. I don’t mean to disrespect one of Germany’s biggest clubs. It was two euros cheaper to buy the ticket online but when it asked for a postal address and print-at-home clearly wasn’t an option, I decided I’d pay at the gate. A portion of chips (fries, not crisps) was 5€, and acted as a top up to our free food from earlier. How can he expect a Man City style of game to work with a slow squad? Cable ties have to be able to meet the most varied demands these days as they are used in the widest range of operations – from the simple bundling of cables with cable ties to the absolutely specific use of cable ties under extreme conditions. While I agree with much of the argument and the sentiment of this movement, it is becoming like a slogan you’d see on a T-shirt on Primark or H+M, like a CND sign, and it’s ubiquity seems increasingly like alternative commerce and its impact is become flaccid. Only Anderlecht’s Adrien Trebel was able to diffuse this Benny Hill sketch, by offering him a big hug. The only time Anderlecht looked good was when Amuzu or Saief ran at the full back and tried to cross from the goal line. Buy, sell, trade and exchange collectibles easily with Colnect collectors community. Polite questions – the kind you’re asked when the answer is of negligible interest – include “what’s your favourite stadium?” or “what makes a good stadium?”. This was necessary because the club house ran out of beer just before half time. We bounded down the steps, towards the centre, with a few pauses along the way to admire the view. Nevertheless, as two pillars of expatriated intelligentsia, we decided that it must be somewhere where we were not. Do bear in mind though that blocking certain cookies can affect your user experience on our website. That’s how this game felt. Football travel is a stroll through life’s promenade of emotions and sensations. Smells of the salty sea; the mustiness of damp clothing jousting with the citrusy odour of scattered oranges; the aroma of cured meats and cheeses being cooked, like inhaling gaseous pizza and charcuterie, and the meandering coffee and pastry cloud condensing on my tongue. Badly-placed pillars and fences, manually operated scoreboards and a lack of general symmetry make this place a beautiful anachronism. Food and beer are both available (2.75€ for 33cl of Maes), but I couldn’t be arsed messing around with the cumbersome electronic card system – scourge of the occasional fan –  as I had the car and couldn’t have a beer anyway. They help us to improve our services and website. It seemed bizarre to go to another country for groceries, but I enjoyed the game of “I wonder what this is” all the same. When all the evidence suggests that you are wrong, you should change your mind. There is an accumulation of small but frequent errors that results in a staccato, disjointed and sterile attack. In 2005, when the Allianz Arena was finished, both clubs moved there. The match descended into a cross-stitch of misplaced passes, late tackles, poor control and calamitous timing. All bets are off with any GPS at this point, as many of the roads are closed. Whether you've loved the book or not, if you give your honest and detailed thoughts then people will find new books that are right for them. The thought of scaling the wall, just like at the park next to OH Leuven, was given unduly serious consideration. It has parking aplenty, as though anticipating a Golden Age of commerce, inhibited only by the absence of commercial outlets. One large Marinara pizza and a cuddly red wine later and I was ready for a nap, until I stepped back outside into the torrents, immediately exfoliating any remnants of fatigue. A half car space emerged so I tried to sneak in, inducing incandescent rage from the Gammon in a white Skoda, who was very prepared to spank his car into mine to prevent me schalking in. We were not as talkative and excitable as we would normally have been, given the previous night’s skinful and general lack of sleep. However, contrary to popular belief, trains in Germany are not especially punctual. Gliding quietly and comfortably along, in a seemingly frictionless manner, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation three seats down.

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