LOSC In Translation

LOSC In Translation: An Idiot’s Trips to Lille

It all started three years ago when I was handed two French roommates from Lille, while working on the International College Program at Walt Disney World, Florida. We immediately struck up a friendship, fuelled greatly by our interest in football. As you can imagine, these guys speak fantastic English, which is in stark contrast to my severely limited French.

Me with my homeboys from Lille.

I had applied my best efforts to keep up to date with French football on television in England, but eventually live games and highlights were no longer being shown on satellite TV. How was I supposed to see what was going down in Ligue 1? The Lyon monopoly had been broken, and suddenly it became an interesting league to watch, one where any number of teams had a realistic chance of becoming champions. Bordeaux were champions in 2009, then Marseille in 2010, and finally Lille in 2011.

For the first of my trips, it was my birthday in May 2010. I took two English friends with me, and we tried to attend Lille at home to Marseille, but due to OM being top of the pile and LOSC chasing Champions League football, we were unable to obtain tickets. My French friends went to the match, and instructed us English guys to watch the game in an Australian bar. They made it sound far more enticing by informing us it even had real Australians!

The carnage and destruction left from the PSV fans obliterating the town centre.

The bar was packed with LOSC fans attempting to watch the match on the big screen. My mates, although too shy to try their luck, were constructing chat up lines in broken French. Phrases such as “Ouvre mon pantalons” and “Mange mon penis” were constructed. How I would have loved to have seen them in use. Although I felt like the only one interested in the game, the intensity and high pressure situation had them forgetting their pickups and turning their attention to the television. LOSC came back from 2-1 to win 3-2 in late and dramatic fashion. Returning from the game, my French friends were exhausted, clearly overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of a game and thrilled by the win. All were convinced that Lille would take one of the Champions League places, but they blew it in the remaining games.

He spent the entire match warming up and was never given his chance to get on the pitch.

Driving back on the Eurotunnel, French officials were asking us questions as we tried to pass through customs. What were we doing? Why were we here? Where did we stay? The place we stayed was my friend’s apartment on a street called Avenue du Peuple Belge, which is notorious for its prostitutes. Though these prostitutes may dress like women, they look like men. Broad shoulders, large hands and a bit of stubble quite easily give the game away. Upon reciting the address, the customs agent immediately changed his dour expression to a cheesy grin. “Ah, for the ladies, no?” he asked. No. God no.

PSV and LOSC lineup before the match.

The very next season, and what was to be the famous double winning season, I was back, though by myself this time. It was the night after Arsenal beat Barcelona 2-1. I’m not sure how I got a ticket to that, but it greatly aided my studies as I had to do a presentation on how to beat Arsenal if I was Barca manager. Watching the game in such great detail, it made me realise how much of the match is missed when watching on television.

After returning home very late to Portsmouth from the Emirates, I endeavoured to gain as much sleep as possible before driving to see Lille play my favourite Dutch side PSV Eindhoven in the Europa League. If ever you’re in Eindhoven, go to their Eetcafe and try one of the burgers. This has me salivating as I type, but I had to imagine I was eating one of those when tricked into buying a sausage like delicacy from one of the vendors at the Stade Lille Metropole. My friends had told me to try one, but would not tell me what was in it until after I had eaten it. Repressed memories have hidden that information deep inside my psyche, but I do believe there may have been some horse meat in there.

Anyone who has been to the Netherlands can attest to how friendly Dutch people are. Though I felt no evil amongst the PSV fans, they had really made a mess of the Lille town centre. All day drinking had left the whole area covered in broken beer bottles and McDonald’s wrappers (many will think that sounds like a great day out). What I did notice is that the Dutch rip the French very much in the same way us English do. Whilst walking to the ground, a group of PSV fans were behind us uttering words like ‘baguette’ in their best French accent. I tried not to giggle, but it was exactly what I would be doing.

PSV fans set off a flare.

Finally, I was inside the stadium. The athletics track seems to have taken away some of the intimacy that can be experienced at other grounds. We were sat at least twenty yards from the touchline, and even had to contend with subs benches and media men. In quite an entertaining game, being two goals up after half an hour, Lille threw away a 2-0 lead late on. The second leg saw them lose 3-1, making it 5-3 to PSV on aggregate. Very much disappointing, but considering this team went on to win the league and cup, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise.

The most difficult part of this trip was coming home. As a young male in his early twenties travelling alone late at night, trying to cross borders, some at border control look at me very suspiciously. I was chatting to a UK official this time who was talking to me for half an hour. He eventually took some paper from my car to test it for drugs, but not before finding out every little detail, including what career path I want to go down, what it was like working for Disney, and what my French friends do for a living. He was not convinced by my story that I had only been to the match, despite my shirt, matchday scarf, recent destinations on the sat nav, and countless pictures on my phone. He wanted tangible proof, such as a ticket, but I did not keep hold of mine. Later on I realised I had visited the club shop and even retained a receipt, which probably would have allowed me to be on my way, but then I wouldn’t have gained an addition to the Christmas card list.

Lille about to attack a throw in.

LOSC made the Champions League, and I vowed to return. Sadly I was unable to get across, and les Dogues were knocked out, finishing bottom of their group, meaning not even Europa League football. I did all I can and made it over to see Lille play Bordeaux in the league. There was much speculation over whether the game would go ahead due to the snow, and the game was even moved forward by two hours to avoid the weather.

My French had improved since trips gone by, but I still did not know that one does not rubs one’s hands on his jeans when eating, but instead uses a napkin. A visit to an American family restaurant saw a few dodgy looks on the way in. There was only two of us, and we went straight to the front of the queue of this busy diner when a table for two had become available. Some families, waiting patiently with their kids, voiced their discontent. Unlike the Australian bar, there were no Americans in sight. Instead, I saw many posters with adult themes, but the words were in English, perhaps protecting young children from the innuendo.

LOSC and FCGB lineup before the match on a freezing cold Sunday afternoon.

It was at lunch the next day when I mentioned that young football coaches in England are being encouraged to go over to Europe to see how they train. This caused a chuckle to emerge from my two French friends who informed me that we (The English) are part of Europe, and referred to us as their brothers. I tried to defend myself by saying that we are a hostile island nation, and that we have no land borders with the main continent, but they insisted we are European whether we like it or not.

The day before the match I was shown the new stadium, though not completed yet, it does look impressive. I was told that it will have a lot of corporate facilities to take advantage of the large number of businesses that call Lille home. The current stadium is old and just feels like a bunch of plastic seats with people sat on them. It is cold and lifeless, and to remain on the top of French football LOSC need to modernise. There was an empty feeling around the place, knowing that players like Gervinho, Yohan Cabaye, Moussa Sow and Pierre-Alain Frau had all moved on.

Currently they have a very involving set of methods that take part during the pre-match routine. All fans rise to their feet and sing the Lille Anthem, which is an adapted version of ‘Amazing Grace’. When the players are announced, a clip of them appears on the screen, as the announcer reads the first name and the fans shout the surname. I still giggle when recalling 18,000 people chant for Idrissa Gueye.

With the weather and many empty seats, this game had somewhat of a laboured feel to it. Only around thirty Bordeaux fans had made the trip, but the ones who did will never forget what they saw. All in attendance that day saw something extraordinary. FCGB spent most of the match defending, yet managed to score five goals. The LOSC defence was incredibly poor. They looked slow and as if they were lacking determination. In my mind I could hear many Sunday league managers screaming clichés such as “pull your finger out” and instructing players to roll their sleeves up.

After only three minutes, Bordeaux were in the lead. It took another five for David Rozenhal to equalise, but inside twenty minutes Ludovic Obraniak put FCGB back in front. There was a light applause, and I was informed that Obraniak was sold around two weeks before the match, and that the fans still liked him. It pointed to how different we are in England as football fans. I’m certain he would have been abused by most clubs in similar a situation.

At half time I bumped into two other Englishmen, one of whom was a Liverpool scout, there to keep an eye on Joe Cole. Cole was still on the bench, but was warming up with great eagerness. He eventually came on, but after an hour it was 4-1 to Bordeaux. Nicholas Maurice-Belay, who scored the first, put in his second, and was joined on the scoresheet by Yoan Gouffran. LOSC looked deflated, but the fans weren’t on their back like I have seen other clubs do. It certainly helped that Bordeaux did not wish to keep hold of the ball, relieving possession at every available opportunity.

Joe Cole warming up.

Then it happened. Perhaps divine intervention, but it happened. Lille were awarded a free kick in the 65^th minute. It was in the middle of the pitch and around twenty five to thirty yards from goal. I like to take pictures and videos throughout the game, but all the free kicks and corners up until that point had been dreadful. I put my camera away. Then a thought entered my head. “What happens if this flies in the top corner and you miss it? Won’t you feel like an idiot?” So I whipped it back out just in time to see Eden Hazard hit a free kick that did just that – it flew into the top corner. The picture quality is terrible, but it is one of my proudest captures.

That goal made it 4-2, and inspired the Lille comeback. Joe Cole looked threatening, working hard to create chances. Debuchy scored ten minutes later, and the fans and players began to believe that it was possible. Could they do it? On the 90^th minute Nolan Roux made it 4-4, sending the fans and players into jubilation. The comeback was complete. This day would be remembered for generations. Men and women were already forming ways to frame the story when telling it to their grandchildren.

The party was not over. Was it really possible for LOSC to grab a fifth? They looked comfortable, perhaps too comfortable. Obraniak, the new Bordeaux addition that recently left Lille, scored the winner in the 93^rd minute. The Lille fans went to curse, but saw it was an old friend and stopped themselves. With only a handful of FCGB fans, most of whom were probably frozen, the sound around the ground was near silent, much like an audible gasp at a cinema when the bad guy reveals himself to be the good guy’s father.

An incredibly strange game, and one that will live long in the memory. As a neutral I did not experience the heartache of the Lille fans, but I certainly can relate to them. Currently, they look too far off the pace to be able to defend their title, and Hazard has likely been checking out how his former teammates have been getting on abroad. An exhilarating talent, and one in a world where money talks, one can only speculate where he will end up. Perhaps the Champions League and a new stadium can help keep him there as well as drawing new players in, but it can’t be all bad for LOSC fans, currently outperforming Marseille, Lyon, St. Etienne, Monaco, Bordeuax and fierce rivals Lens.