GARBO’S EURO DIARY

CHAMPAGNE FOOTBALL

The city of Reims calls to mind a number of images: the famous cathedral, model for the Gothic splendour of Cologne: the great champagne houses of Mumms and Kruger: the rolling hills covered in vineyards that supply the raw material to create the most famous sparkling wine in the world. Football may not figure too highly in most people’s instinctive first thoughts on the city, but to those who know their European football history the capitol of the Champagne region holds as distinctive a place as it’s famous grape product holds in the world of viticulture.

 Their glory days may now be a memory nearly half a century old, but Stade de Reims were in their heyday not only the most famous club in France, but also a powerhouse of the early European Cup. This small city club from rural northern France twice contested the final of Europe’s most prestigious competition in the 1950s, losing 4-3 after leading twice against Real Madrid in one of the all-time great finals in 1956, and 2-0 to the same opponents three years later. The first of those sides featured Raymond Kopa who later defected to Real to play in it’s team of international all-stars; he was replaced by Just Fontaine, a name to rival Michel Platini and Zidedine Zidane in any discussion as to the identity of France’s greatest ever footballer. Fontaine scored 13 goals in the 1958 World Cup Finals, including four against reigning World Cup holders West Germany, a record that still stands.

Since then, the club have become something of a French Nottingham Forest, their glorious past forgotten, having faced liquidation and relegation to the regionalised third division in 1989. Reborn as Stade de Reims Champagne they regained their second division status in 1995, but have since drifted alongin mid-table obscurity. Yet if Forest have become victims of a British football culture that now reflects the commercial primacy of the big city teams, le Rouge et Blanc don’t really have that excuse. While France’s major cities are represented in the national first division, there is also room for many teams based in smaller conurbations. Indeed, there is something refreshing about the French league in that while it’s relative lack of commercialisation has led to most of the best French players plying their trade abroad, the positive aspect is an openness of competition.  

While Olympic Lyon have a sugar daddy backer who seems intent on buying a hegemony, the remaining Champions League places are up for grabs, with challenges regularly coming from a variety of sources. Particularly noteworthy are Lens, a team from a small former mining town about the size of Llanelli, who regularly give the big names of France a run for their money and feature in Europe’s most lucrative competition. Whereas England’s Champions League places are now the exclusive property of an elite, the French equivalents of Norwich and Ipswich remain serious contenders. 

The advent of cheap air, rail and ferry fares has made the possibilities for European football weekends much more feasible, particularly since British clubs have hiked their admission prices. Famously, one journalist from a national newspaper recently went to see AC Milan play at home at an overall price that was less than the cost of a seat at Chelsea. While the ecological issues raised by cheap air travel may make some people uneasy with such outings, the ease of access to northern France by rail or ferry can allow even the most environmentally conscious football fan to combine a weekend of sightseeing and gastronomic pleasure with something a little different and slightly exotic on the football front. 

Stade de Reim’s current second division status doesn’t make them the most obvious destination – Lille, Lens, Valciennes or Paris St Germaine all offer first division football with easy accessibility from Calais or Boulogne – but the city’s more traditional attractions had marked it out as a worthwhile weekend break. The news gleaned from a local paper that the Champagners were due to play Stade Brest in the opening competitive match at their revamped stadium did provide an opportunity to experience another aspect of the City’s cultural life. Well that was my argument, anyway. 

The French second division is largely played on a Friday evening, so having spent the afternoon taking in the city sights and sampling the region’s most famous drink, we found ourselves following an increasing red and white clad throng walking over one of the bridges across the River Marne. On the south bank of the river stand two futuristic pencil thin floodlight pylons, angled in over what turns out to be a partially reconstructed stadium. Tickets at a variety of prices are readily available at a kiosk outside the ground, and 16 Euros (£11) secures a seat in the most expensive section in the upper tier of the new stand along the wing.  

The Auguste Delaune ground, like many in France, used to feature a cycling track in it’s heyday, but judging from pictures of the ground before the current rebuilding, this had been partly built over in recent years by a series of clumsy modern stands, while much of the original stadium lay derelict. The solution has been to completely reconstruct the ground in two phases. Consequently, the ground currently consists of two elegantly roofed stands, while the area behind the goal stands cleared and ready for the third phase. The fourth side awaits demolition, but the absence of building on that side does afford a superb view of the cathedral on the hill on the north side of the river.  

It also has to be said that many of the new French grounds seem to offer an architectural flair sadly lacking in so many of the identikit British stadia. Last year I visited Nante’s superb Le Beaujoire stadium, one of the most elegant in Europe. The new Delaune may not rival such aesthetic heights, but when finished, the 22,000 capacity ground will provide excellent facilities and a superb view, yet it’s modernist architecture will be distinctive and unmistakably Reims. British architects should take note – can it really cost that much more to show just a little imagination in design? Judging from Huddersfield, apparently not, and one is left with the impression that too many of the authorities in Britain have been too ready to accept anonymous “shopping superstore” architecture instead of something genuinely distinctive. The French, in contrast, give the impression that to accept a design that was lacking grace or impact as tantamount to civic failure.  

For tonight, however, the half completed stadium will only hold around 10,000. By kick off time a healthy crowd of around 7,800 has built up, including a vociferous hardcore of Reims supporters on the lower tier behind the goal who manipulate an impressive array of flags. Less welcome are the attempts by the on-pitch announcer to lead the singing, the imbecile’s total inability to keep time frustrating any attempts by the crowd to join in. Few fans have travelled from north-west Brittany to support the visitors, the combination of distance, kick off time and indifferent form last season probably contributing to a turnout of around 50. Rather strangely, some carry cross of St George flags, although whether this is explained by Brest’s normal white and red home strip or through a wish to be identified as “hooligans” is hard to tell. 

One can sense the expectancy in the home crowd as Reims kick off in their Arsenal style shirts. The summer has seen them sign seven new players in an effort to improve on last season’s fourteenth placing. However, it is their new goalkeeper Liebus who is immediately called into action as Brest force a golden chance in the opening minute, blocking a shot from the Bretagnes’ tall black striker N’Jock. Indeed, the goalkeeper who at 27 is in only his third full professional season, is to prove one of the evening’s most impressive performers, commanding his area and collecting crosses impeccably despite the attentions of the awkward N’Jock. 

Brest look the better side in the opening minutes, passing the ball intelligently and accurately, and forcing a couple of corners. Meanwhile, Reims look as disjointed as one might expect of a side with so many new faces. Yet it is the home side who open the scoring after eight minutes when Julien Ferret, a tall rangy forward playing a withdrawn role in what is loosely a 4-2-3-1 formation bursts into the penalty area, benefits from a lucky ricochet and hammers the ball past the Willy Gueret lookalike in the Brest goal.  

The remainder of the half is virtually one way traffic as Brest continue to probe intelligently, with Digne in midfield looking particularly useful. This is typical French football with plenty of intelligent running, crisp accurate passing and a willingness to take men on. In contrast, Le Rouge et Blanc continue to struggle to find any pattern, and become quite “English” in their style of play, regularly giving the ball away and seeking relief through hopeful long balls down the channels. After twenty minutes Brest’s midfield playmaker Digne releases the tricky and skilled de Carvalho who beats the offside trap and is left one on one with the goalkeeper. The little Brest forward has looked a handful thus far and seems odds on to score. Yet Liebus intelligently narrows the angleand wins the battle of wills as de Carvalho shoots outside the post. Brest continue to look the more coherent team and an equaliser seems only a matter of time, but a combination of bad luck, poor decision making in the penalty area and the commanding presence of Liebus mean that half time arrives with Reims still ahead. 

One diversion in the first half has been the presence of one of the Reims staff on the building site behind Liebus’s goal to retrieve any wayward balls. The rotund and balding man in a tracksuit looks set to become something of a cult figure amongst the Reims regulars. Hardly has he returned to his position near the goal line from scampering over mounds of earth and around excavators and pile drivers then he is off again, to the great amusement of the cheering crowd. One suspects he encourages the Reims coaching staff to spend regular sessions practicing more accurate shooting. 

The second half follows a similar opening pattern to the first. As expected, Brest continue to press, but once again it is Reims who score after just a few minutes. This time Feret wins a race to the corner of the penalty area, and instead of playing safe and holding the ball up he touches it forward and beats his man in the process. As he bears down on the goalkeeper he looks set to score, but instead unselfishly pulls the ball back to striker Cedric Faure who turns it into an empty net. The Bretagnes seem shaken by this turn of events, and for the next few minutes are rocking. Reims might have added a third as a free kick is headed against the post, and minutes later Feret cleverly chips the goalkeeper who has been caught in no mans land, only to see his effort go narrowly over. 

Brest slowly force their way back into the game, and once again set up a one on one with the goalkeeper as N’Jock, a forward who bears a similarity in style of play to Mamade Sidibe bears down on goal. However, Liebus is having a fine game, and once again presents himself as a formidable obstacle, staying on his feet as the forward eventually shoots straight at him. That really represented Brest’s best chance of getting back in the game, and despite a large amount of possession the feeling grows that however long they played, and whatever gilt edged chances they created, Brest simply will not score tonight. The game peters out into a fairly comfortable home win, much to the joy of the red and white flag bearers behind the goal. Brest have been the better footballing side for much of this match, but the old adage of needing to take chances was once again proved correct. 

Comparing the French and English second tiers is difficult. The game is certainly slower and less intense in France, and as this doesn’t always make for compelling viewing there were a number of lulls in the action. The atmosphere in the ground was rendered slightly odd by having the crowd on only two sides, and it must be a fairly strange experience for the players in such circumstances. It should also be said that the crowds in this division are often moderate and more in line with the English lower divisions, possibly reflecting the small city nature of many of the teams.Yet the general level of skill was good, with Brest in particular attacking with imagination and interplay that is rarely if ever seen in the Coca Cola leagues.  

If the Championship reflects quintessentially English values with the emphasis on physicality and speed, the French game places a greater emphasis on ball skills and retaining possession. It is also noticeable that the crowd are more patient than their British counterparts, and there is no equivalent of the cries of “get it forward” often heard in Britain if players attempt to string more than two passes together. It is also noticeable that the tackle from behind is outlawed even if the perpetrator succeeds in getting the ball without the man, and the players appear to accept this. Similarly, the game seems mercifully free of the flying elbows that seem to be accepted as part and parcel of the game in Britain.  

This arguably not only reflects a difference in the football cultures of the two countries, but may also be indicative of the overview that the French authorities have taken of the game. The French system revolves around the values inculcated at Clairefontaine, where not only are the best young players coached, but arguably more importantly, the coaches are coached. The whole system appears more coherent than the piecemeal English system of football development, with its myriad of conflicting interests. To this extent the French national team may benefit through the club scene being less developed and intense.  

In some ways the football culture of France appears naïve and undeveloped as compared to Britain, particularly in a commercial sense. Perhaps this is unsurprising as the professional club system was a lot later developing, and generally does not wield the same power. Yet in some ways this can make for a refreshing change. A visit to a game in France can seem like a step back in time in the sense that the game doesn’t yet seem wholly distorted by commercial interests, that most clubs are in with a chance of some sort of success, and that ticket prices don’t leave you seriously out of pocket. If the game isn’t as fast and intense, the chances are that it will be at a better technical standard and will encourage the type of skilled play regarded with suspicion by too many British managers and coaches but apparently taken for granted throughout most of the rest of the world. In essence, lovers of the “beautiful game” will see much to take pleasure from in France, but those who prefer the blood and thunder kick and rush represented by so much of the Championship need not bother.

Throw in that your weekend will also probably feature some excellent food and drink in an atmospheric café-bar, and it makes for an attractive combination. The French league may not have the intense hurly burly action of England, the attacking prowess and stars of Spain, the quality and passion of the now tainted Italian league or the huge crowds of Germany. Yet for “something different” a weekend away in France is highly accessible, presents a host of interesting destinations that don’t necessarily require airline flights, and can supply good quality football in a competitive league at reasonable prices. Well worth a try.

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