Kaunas 2005

[TLW]

TALES FROM OUR TRAVELS

Written by Steve Horton

BACK IN THE USSR

Champions League QR2, 1st Leg, FC Kaunas 2005


After the initial shock at being told by UEFA that our season would begin in July, I soon managed to turn the negative into a positive. The early start would mean we’d get drawn against teams from places that UEFA don’t want in the group stages, giving me the opportunity to sample something completely different. Given my married with young son status means family travel is limited to Spanish resorts, this was a fantastic opportunity I couldn’t miss no matter what the cost. Even if we had got the team from Kazakhsan I’d still have gone.

Hence to be drawn against TNS was very disappointing, although I’d later learn that someone up above was looking after me. A few days later my wife broke her foot and was put in plaster for three weeks, meaning leaving the country during the first round would have been impossible. But the day after the TNS away leg the plaster came off, despite our fears it wouldn’t and she was told she could drive again. Taking time off work to look after her during her immobility meant I only had one days leave left so independent travel was out. Nothing would top me so within an hour I was on the phone to Lonsdales, who added £299 to my Mastercard, with the promise I’d get £30 back if they could fill the plane for their day trip.

I never would get the discount, as just 132 fans booked on the trip and assembled at John Lennon Airport for the 10am flight. Sky TV cameras were there to film us, such was the lack of other football news on 26th July. The sight of an Eirjet plane brought back memories of being stuck on the tarmac for two hours prior to going to Istanbul after a missed slot but there were no such problems this time. Two and a half hours later we were in Kaunas at an airport with a terminal not much bigger than the National Express coach station in Norton Street. Ours was the only plane there and despite Lithuania’s recent entry into the EC customs officials still scrutinised everyone while many asked for passport stamps of this unusual destination.

The old roads and drabness of the first buildings we saw left us in no doubt that we were in eastern Europe, but once we reached the city it was much more modern than I expected. There were few soulless apartment blocks, with many people living in wooden chalets that appeared to belong in Switzerland or Austria. There were plenty of small retail parks and one of the most bizarre sights was a bar/restaurant with a full scale working windmill outside.

We got dropped off about 3.30pm outside a hotel on the main street and were told to be back at 8pm be bussed to the game. There were hardly any Reds about and it was quite clear that the bulk of fans had gone on the charter flight. I decided to get some sightseeing out of the way first and had a quick look at an old church and an island in the middle of the river. Then it was time to find food and drink, only for the heavens to open with a downpour of monsoon proportions. This went on for about 20 minutes during which time I sheltered under the entrance to a department store and admit the thought briefly crossed my mind the game could be rained off. That would have been something I could never have lived down but the sight of clouds clearing in the distance dispelled that from my head.

Sure enough the sun came out and my attention turned to liquid refreshment, but I did have the problem of having a 200 lita note to change first. With beer costing 4-5 litas (about 80p) I didn’t want to get growled at in a bar so did an unusual thing for Euro away games and bought some souvenirs (well a bottle of vodka and some local beer). The next three hours were really enjoyable sampling some excellent local brews and chatting to locals, many of whom were suspicious of us at first and couldn’t understand why we just wanted to sit there and have a drink rather than a fight. The reputation of the national team goes before us I suppose.

One of the best places was a kebab shop which also sold beer. It wasn’t like your average local greasy takeaway. It was spotlessly clean and having waitress service if you wanted to eat inside. The best doner I’ll ever have cost £1 and was given to me on a proper plate. Most of the other bars I saw were restaurant/cafes that tolerated you having a drink, while the smaller normal bars were so sparsely populated that a few told me they were closing when I went in, unless they just didn’t like the look of me. As far as I could see there was no big congregating point for Reds fans but there is an Irish bar that I didn’t come across so maybe I did miss something. In terms of pre match atmosphere it was certainly enjoyable going where I did but it was strange having no big sing song and hanging up banners anywhere.

The bus to the ground only took about ten minutes leaving plenty of time to wander around. It was in some sort of sports park with tennis courts and the like and there were plenty of souvenir stalls, allowing me spend the excess litas on a t-shirt and scarf and plenty of programmes to distribute once back home. The chemical toilets left a lot to be desired and once in the ground our section was the only one with empty seats, with less than half the 600 we had been allocated being filled. The ground only had two sides, two being covered by trees. Despite the running track the view wasn’t that bad, as we were quite high up but not too far back.

It was the first time they had filled the stadium, despite its tiny capacity of 8600 and rather than sing, they just sounded klaxons all the time. The only visible sign of their support was a huge Kaunas Ultras banner behind the goal. Despite our small number we still made ourselves heard, with everyone trying that extra bit harder to get behind the team.

We seemed to start off reasonably well, but on twenty minutes some dodgy defending left us a goal behind and the klaxons went into overdrive. The next five minutes led to thoughts of not even having the UEFA Cup to fall back on and the humiliating taunts we’d get from Blues. Luckily Cisse turned the ball in to send me hurtling across two or three rows of empty seats in jubilation then Jamie Carragher, whose name was sung more than anyone’s before kickoff scored a rare goal. It was well deserved but just a shame he did it in such a low key setting. Half time was spent risking the chemical toilets again and the second half was very much a blur. We added another and the home fans didn’t stop sounding their klaxons, which were becoming damn annoying by now.

We were kept in for a minimal period then taken to the airport to be let loose in the duty free shop that was about as big as your average bargain booze. Most of the time our hosts just want us out the terminal but the Lithuanians weren’t letting us anywhere till we’d spent our excess litas. There was a further delay while we waited for the pilot to turn up then the one bus couldn’t get us all on, but nobody seemed to tell the driver to go back and get the rest. Why our plane couldn’t park up right next to the terminal when it was the only one in the airport I don’t know.

I was asleep before we got up in the air, but woke somewhere over the North Sea with a desperate urge to shite out the beer and kebab from earlier. There’s no way I’m putting my arse anywhere near a plane bog seat so it was a case of waiting in discomfort till we got home. That was about 330am and with work the next morning there was no larking around trying to catch the highlights on Sky. A neighbour had videoed it for me anyway so I was content to wait. It had been a great trip and for once we had the best of both worlds – east European UEFA Cup venues but in the Champions League. Somehow I doubt I could ever afford to start the season off in July every year, but I feel privileged to have been one of the small band of supporters who followed us into our preliminary round adventure.