This is a special Euro edition of my Captains Log, boldly going where no club has gone before! My experiences here come direct from the ex-communist state of Poland.
When we arrived in Poland we were bussed directly to a crumbling hotel. Press men were waiting for us and we had to push our was through to our rooms. The room had a double bed, which i had to share with an annoying Tubby Morton (who kept stealing all my covers), that was covered with stains of all sorts. The windows never had glass in the pane, and snow was lining the streets, it's the coldest I've ever been. The food we got was of poor quality, and we were advised not to eat it by one of the press men.
On the television in the lounge we saw the threats from Lech players. They would beat us easily, not at football, at rugby! One particular player threatened to break my legs, and make sure i would never play again. We made our way to the stadium the night before the game, and were greeted by noisy Lech fans watching us train. Missiles were thrown onto the pitch and security had to hold the fans back, fans with knifes and god knows what else. When we left the ground and got back to relative safety in the hotel, i found a call waiting for me.
On the other end of the receiver was a man, who claimed to be in association with Lech's ultra fan-base. He told me if i wanted the team to survive we were to either throw the game, or refuse to turn up. If not, there would be another Basran-type casualty. I didn't know what to do, but when i saw how demoralized the team was, i knew i had to be strong for them. I was rooming with my son Rocky that night who slept on the floor, and we went over this situation a million times. It had to work, it just had to.
I told the team not to be intimidated, and that Uefa wouldn't allow anything to happen to them. If the crowd caused any trouble we were all to run to one corner together and the security would take care of it. Then to tactics, and we had to focus and not be scared of these absolute thugs. I led the team out onto the pitch and the national anthem played, the crowd were letting off flares and setting fires in the stands, we genuinly feared for our lives. The final whistle blared and right away the defender crunched my legs with a tackle. The ref waved play on, and i realized we weren't the only terrified ones here. The ref was quivering with fear, i knew what had to be done. I won the ball and booted it directly at the ref's face, making it look accidental. He was to injured to carry on and the sub ref was called upon. We hoped he would be fairer, but couldn't count on it. Right away a neat pass from Blackie set me away on the wing, and CRACK! The defender had dived at my legs, and i felt like subbing myself off. I couldn't bring myself to let down the lads like that and got back up and asked the defender " Is that the best you got?" I decided if the lads weren't scared, then we could easily beat these thugs. The ref manned up and booked the *******
I winked at Rocky and he knew what to do, i put the ball where i had been brought down, and booted the ball towards the right hand side of the box. The ball then phenomenally curled to the left hand side where Rocky was waiting to head home. The lads then went on to bang in another four (one from me) and completely avoided all tackles from the criminals we were playing. Except one, and it was horrifying to see. 18 year old wonderkid Wesley Benguigui, who had been the year above Rocky at school, got his leg snapped in three places. Simply running down the wing, he stopped and looked up, only to see the face of the man about to ruin his season, and possibly his career. I ran over and saw the bore sticking out just abouve his shin guard and blood everywhere. It is a sight that will never leave me. The ref said it was accidental and never sent the player off, but pictures in the paper the next day showed his face, alive with evil.
We got on the bus and were driven to the airport, where i was given a call saying i was as good as dead. The men never got in touch again, and as of now, i'm still alive. I lived to see Wesley Benguigui in hospital, talking to his team-mates and having a laugh. He has been told the injury should keep him out for up-to 6 months if he's lucky. This trip was the worst experience of my life, and if the rest of the tournament is like this, i wish we hadn't qualified.
Straight from the pen of Roy Race! :wub: