Champions League Final 2007 Athens May 23rd Offical Thread

[Syd The Sailor]

The good thing about this final will be that it will prove for once and for all how fookin lucky Liverpool were 2 years ago. I fancy 3 0 at half time and that it stays 3 0 this time.  No drink allowed at half time in the Milan dressing room either, because I know for a fact they uncorked a couple of bottles in the dressing rooms 2 years ago and they therefore deserved to get beat then, I would like to think they will be more professional now. Anyway Liverpool should stop crowing about history as they are in for one hell of a tanking in 3 weeks and everything they say now will come back at them.  Any team that cant defeat Charlton shouldnt deserve to be in the champions league.     

Is this another case of premature ejaculation on a message board?

[realredhandfan]

Anybody going to the match?  Dont know if I can go yet or not?

[An Fear Rua]

As im in a good mood (contimplating another championship) Id like to offer the following advice, based on having been to Athens on a few Euro aways and having worked there for a while

If possible try and get digs in Kolonaki, this hotel is good www.sglycabettus.gr, there are a few others near by as well.

This is a nice part of Athens, good bars etc and a fantastic kebab place too.
The ground itself is miles away so leave lots of time to get there, a Taxi will only get you part way as the traffic is a disaster. Watch out for Plaka, its a tourists mecca, and rip off central, if you go to the ruins, walk back to plaka and get a taxi from there.
Local beer is Mythos, not bad, but most bars serve amstel as well which is quality.

If your in Kolonaki, say hello to blind dog for me, if you meet him you will no who im talking about.

[T Fearon]

Its brilliant to have somebody to support in the Final, due to the fact that its not between two sets of Shitebags from NW England.

I hope Milan hammer the scousers.Lets face it, if they play with the same power and commitment (as epitomised by Gattuso last night) they will, (Man Ure are a better team that Liverpool after all) and with the scent of revenge in their nostrils the scousers could be in for the mother of all tankings. Hope Maldini makes it as well, as it surely must be his last. He is up there with Puskas, Di Stefano, as one of the true European legends

PS With AC Milan easily accounting for Man Ure (unlike the extra time scenario they needed to beat Celtic), and Celtic effectively winning the two legged affair with Man Ure in the qualifiers, does that make Celtic a better team than Man Ure.

[An Fear Rua]

link works for me,

basically anywhere on the Kolonaki side of the hill gives easy waling distance to anything in athens , you could also look at stuff in and around plaka

http://www.sglycabettus.gr

if iwas you id take the first available bed you get, you could also consider a room out near the ground as will make it a lot easier to get there on match day. The traffic is a mare, and Public Transport was basic when I was there

[An Fear Rua]

Ive used this site for many of my Euro Awaya, and usually ended up with great digs at a low price
http://www.cheaphotels.co.uk

[Mayo4Sam]

the scousers could be in for the mother of all tankings.

Ya could easily be 2 or 3 nil by before half time

[GalwayBayBoy]

the scousers could be in for the mother of all tankings.

Ya could easily be 2 or 3 nil by before half time

That would be tough alright. Hard to see us coming back from 2 or 3 down.

[An Fear Rua]

Not surprised.

Ah the memories of Athens,

heres an alternative travel report from one of our trips.

try that cheap hotels site, Omonina is an alright place too, right near the metro to the ground


http://www.m-u-f-c.co.uk/matches/matchreport.php?reportid=14

Merry Monk's Panathinaikos Away Report
"They tried to break us, looks like they'll try ag
by Merry Monk

Tuesday 6th March 2001

And so it came to pass that at daft o'clock one cold pre-Ides morning, Vas, Paz, Redbyte, MGA, Red Avenger and the Merriest of Monks congregated in the dark recesses of some coffee bar or other in Manchester Airport's hastily refurbished Terminal 3. The trip had been conceived by Redbyte within minutes of the cup draw revelation that Manchester's best-supported team would be taking the field alongside Athens' second-best supported team. Delivered in his now-familiar celtic verbal swagger, it didn't take long for the residual pentet to capitulate to this mental no-brainer, our only input being the provision of 16 little numbers and an expiry date. As if the lure of three days in a sure-to-be-sweltering Athens wasn't enough, we had the additional incentive of spending two nights in the 5 Star St. George Lycabettus hotel, "nestling in the bosom of one of Athens' most picturesque hills...." Oh, and there was a roof-top swimming pool and bar

Following a brief plane-change at Gatwick we headed out on an aged 737-300 bound for Athens. The flight appeared to be exclusively United, save for quite possibly the most unattractive cabin crew that the author has ever had the misfortune to receive three cans of Holsten Pils and one mini-bottle of Claret from. Furthermore, MGA unpleasantly discovered that those five inch wide middle-seats-of-three which people always thought were just to put bags and newspapers on are in fact meant to have arses parked on them

Early afternoon saw our arrival Athens airport (sorry, no idea of the name – probably Spiropaxos Popodopolis International or something), half expecting to see a comical "Welcome to Hellas" banner. After surprisingly collecting our full quota of luggage we took a couple of rank taxis from the taxi rank outside. Twenty minutes and thirty four fingernails later we gazed upon the luxurious splendour which was to be our home for the next two days or so.....or rather, we tried to gaze, but the dust being generated by the workmen cutting paving stones barely allowed us to make out the five stars adorning the doorway (have I mentioned the five stars before ?)

Even before checking in, I had to ask the question about the roof-top pool. "Is it open ?" I enquired. The receptionist started "Not yet, but it will be open in......." and then paused, looked at her watch, looked at the clock on the wall and looked back at her watch again. I must admit, none of us expected her to say "June"

After a hurried pit-stop, and with our watches showing 4:30 (except RA's whose stubbornly was still displaying GMT) we took the steps down towards Kolonaki square, dressed simply in shirts. After all, this was Greece, and the sun was out. Between the hotel and the bars of the square lies a fashion street. You know the sort - shops with two pairs of shoes on a white plinth in the window which inexplicably need fourteen assistants to sell them. Just down this street was a small bar which Redbyte claimed did the cheapest beer and tastiest souvakis in the whole of Greece. Admittedly both were pretty good. Andy Williams couldn't have crooned it better as we sat there, next to a high fashion Diesel store, and watched the girls go by

It was during the brief walk from hotel to bar that we encountered the first of many dogs. The grammatical phraseology of my observation that Athens appeared to be overrun with "wild domesticated dogs" was eagerly corrected by Paz, who pointed out that such beings are usually called "strays". One such "Wild Dog" was swiftly christened "Blind Dog", on account that he wobbled around and walked into tables and walls. Blind Dog had made the patch outside the Diesel fashion emporium his own, and, despite being unable to see them, took great delight in warding off vagrants and hawkers with an alarming tenacity. One particular vendor, whose grubby outstretched cupped hand was to become a familiar sight over the next few days, was a dirty old crone whose goods for sale consisted solely of blue biros and packet tissues. Despite the most intense cerebral efforts, none of us could imagine the type of lorry which these had fallen off

Since our last proper meal had been in Swiss airspace some hours ago, viz. the second of two identical BA in-flight breakfasts, we felt an urge to seek out a suitable culinary establishment. By this stage, the decision to wear only shirts was being regretted by the majority of the group as the temperature had plummeted to something reminiscent of Captain Oates' honourable suicide. Redbyte assured us that Plaka was the place to go, so off we went. Four mules, three sherpas and six re-soles later we took our seats outside a traditional Greek taverna. An aged Roberto Baggio was directing passers-by to come and sample his fayre, and who were we to refuse such a tempting offer ? The meal was certainly edible, although the mixed seafood platter we had for starters looked a bit as though we were second to it. Vas decided that octopus was his main course choice, but the requisite mastication suggested that Wrigleys had extended their sponsorship to squid-life. Roberto's ever-present sidekick was one of those two guys out of Los Lobos, and he, like us, watched in awe and admiration as the Divine Ponytail attempted to trap and verbally manhandle groups of tourists into his restaurant. Highlights of this spectacle were the four young Japanese who made a last minute dash for freedom, and the party of thirty Bulgarians who collectively dipped their shoulders and rounded a stranded and desolate Italian has-been. After a swift bottle of Mythos (not the world's best beer, but quite pretty labels) in a small tourist-ridden square, we gratefully flagged down two taxis and set course back for Kolonaki

Kolonaki square was now far more lively than when we had left it, and we met up with LOS, Lowey and Jules-too. Chat was almost exclusively football-based as we began to remember there was a game the next day. A couple of hours later we all wandered back up to the glamour of Lycabettus, via a kiosk where we stocked up on cans of cheap Amstel and Heineken. Earlier in the day we had marvelled at the view afforded by our hotel's sixth floor Grand Balcony, and now felt that a relaxing hour or two was in order. Cradled in the lights of the chapel of St. George which proudly mounts Lycabettus hill, and sat facing the dominating vista of an artificially-illuminated Parthenon, one would be hard pushed to conjure up a more endearing image


"Pre-can", it's all smiles


Well, almost all smiles

However, the serenity of "red hot soccer chat" was rudely interrupted by two factors. One, outside our control, was the Siberian weather conditions. The other was the surprising decision by one of the more educated members of the group to lob his can of beer from the roof. A mental trip into the remnants of O-level Physics reminded me that v2 = u2 + 2as. Entering the values for u, a and s, one could crudely calculate that the rogue aluminium cylinder - had it survived the burn up on re-entry - would have had a terminal velocity of over 400 mph. It's no coincidence that the can-chucking perpetrator's identity is revealed quite clearly in this particular equation

Bed beckoned – the end of the first day

(Apparently LOS, Lowey and Jules-too spent an eternity trying to get out of the hotel, briefly circumnavigating the basement kitchens before finally feeling the welcoming dusty paving stones of the hotel forecourt)

[An Fear Rua]

Wednesday 7th March 2001

Despite the entire workforce of Lord Alfred McAlpine having been seconded to drill, bang and clatter outside our bedroom windows, I don't think that any of us actually experienced anything before midday, with Paz and Redbyte being the laziest of lazy bastards. MGA, RA, Vas and MM decided that an ascension of Lycabettus Hill would blow the cobwebs away. After a failed attempt to find the funicular at the first time of asking, Vas and MM elected to take the scenic winding path, whilst RA and MGA went off in search of the railway. After five minutes of lung-bottoming climbing, Bonnington and Hillary were stopped in their tracks by the most bizarre of sights. Around one hundred caterpillars were wandering nose-to-tail across one of the clay steps. A closer examination showed that there were in fact a few hundred more ascending in similar fashion through the undergrowth to join their compatriots. However, unfolding before our very eyes, disaster soon befell the leading insect when he tumbled over a particularly nonnegotiable twig and fell away and back towards his faithful followers. After an eternity of nose waving, the second caterpillar found Number One and the trail was reformed. However, at some loss, as the leader had unwittingly jibbed in at about position 20. So, we had caterpillars number 21 and above stood still wondering what the hold up was, and the first 20 caterpillars wandering aimlessly in an eternal loop. It would be a brave gambling man to suggest that they aren't still circling there to this very day


All going so well

Getting tricky


We reached the summit at the same time as the Railway Children and despite the magnificent view over a desperately sprawling capital, the gale force winds and biting cold dictated that we should hurriedly take the next available descending train. Redbyte and Paz had finally bothered to get up and were sat in the hotel reception with Badger and The Lawman. Collectively we ambled down to Kolonaki, met up with Ige, and spent the next couple of hours forcing down Mythos and eating unintentionally-chilled meatballs. At this time we were blessed with a further visit from the "tissue and biro" hag, this time with only tissues on vend. Clearly some unpublicised Greek tragedy had forced some pen panic-buying


The "Diesel" bar

Anyway, it was at this stage (approximately 2:30 pm Jim-time) that we made the decision to add a little culture to the proceedings. The Lawman must be congratulated by correctly surmising that ".....it would be rude to come to Athens and not see the Acropolis", so Paz, RB, Vas, MGA, Lawman and MM dived in a couple of joes and headed for the Acropolis. As is now customary, our slight climb through the Acropolean gardens up to the Parthenon was accompanied by a myriadical cacophony of wild domesticated canines. However culturally-unaware a person may be, it would be impossible for anyone to be anything less than amazed and awestruck by the Parthenon



Amazingly, we all resisted the "losing your marbles" jokes

Considering it was built nearly 2500 years ago it's lasted pretty well, despite the "removal" of the Elgin marbles at the turn of the last-but-one century. Anyroad, by this time, the afternoon's beer had taken its toll on all our bladders so we optimistically followed a series of "WC" signs which had been crudely sellotaped to trees. Ten minutes later it was clear that this was some hilarious Greek hoax, so we took to the undergrowth. I'm sure Zeus must have seen the funny side of us pissing on his roses


Hunting the Zeus Memorial Conveniences

Leaving the Acropolis we were faced with a choice of two waiting taxis. The first driver asked us where we were going. After being told "Kolonaki" he boldly quoted 3000 drachma (about £6). We politely told him that this was unacceptably high. Witnessing this, the second driver wandered over and entered the fray, demonstrating a peculiar bargaining technique, insofar as he tendered 2000 more than the first bloke. We walked. And how ! Accompanied for a good 30 minutes by two more Wild Dogs we negotiated our way through a slightly dodgy looking part of town. One Wild Dog soon gave up, but his colleague walked with us all the way, frequently displaying his hardness by head-butting passing cars, before waving us goodbye at his territory boundary. Unable to walk another yard, we took a couple of fairly unroadworthy taxis back to Kolonaki. Impressively, Badger was still in the same bar and we mooched in. After ten minutes, it is to Paz' eternal credit that he pointed out a young lady sat in the middle of the bar with her Nick Hornby lookalike boyfriend. This individual possessed the most magnificent pair of breasts which this author has ever seen. It didn't take long for the twenty or so Reds in the bar to make blatantly unnecessary journeys to all corners of the bar in order to afford themselves a clearer view of their visual prey. Everyone's joy was massively evident when she made the trip through the throng to the downstairs conveniences, and when she left the bar with Nick a few minutes later the cheers confirmed that things had indeed reached Fever Pitch

Time was now pressing, so three taxis worth of us headed back up to the hotel, ordered the necessary transport, imbibed quite possibly the most expensive beer this side of the Copenhagen Hilton and took to the road. It should be noted for the record that up until lunchtime that day, a number of our party were in fact unaware that the game was to be played at the Olympic Stadium rather than Panathinaikos' own ground (which, as it happens, was only a stroll from our lodgings). I will hold my head up and admit to being one of the venue-change information pygmies....I'll leave the others' consciences to do the right thing by them. The ground was about seven miles to the north east of the city centre, and traffic was ludicrous. The police at the ground were no help at all in helping us locate our turnstiles (in fact, none of the exterior turnstiles were even graced by numbers). Meeting up with Lowey, LOS and JP we "hip-dip-dog-shit" picked an entrance and made our way up to the second tier. The first thing that struck us was the proliferation of green Panathinaikos hats amongst United. Why ? I mean, really, why ? Oh, and the scarves too

Estimates put the figure at around 1700 United, of whom just 12 were singing and the vast majority of the remainder were wearing green head and neck gear. Despite the development of arctic climactic conditions which would have surely troubled Roald Amunsden, I still saw no point in green bobble hats. We 12 disciples took to the upper reaches of the tier and tried in vain to get people sing, shout, chant and generally get behind the team, but in fairness, the attitude and input of the majority of "fans" was shameful


They're singing, so why can't we ?

That said, the game was tedium personified, the away team being unable to string three passes together. Panathinaikos richly deserved their goal, and were it not for our "Numéro Un" it could easily have been five or six. Our insistence to play till the end certainly works well in Europe, and when Uggers' speculative cross-cum-shot was turned in by Scholes it was clear that Zeus was indeed smiling on us

We had been told we were being held in the ground for 15 minutes post-match, but by my watch it was nearer 50 by the time the gates were opened – of course, by RA's watch, it was only just kick-off. During the wait, a few more of the "fans" had decided that they would finally get behind the team. In fact, by my reckoning, they were around 10 miles behind the team which was probably boarding a Manchester-bound charter. We were marched to the nearest (!) metro station and prodded onto a already heaving carriage. Ten or so stops later we were dumped at Omonoia which is where Lowey, Lawman and few others were staying. By this stage, it was about one a.m. and the night was obviously still young. A rusty 1979 yellow Corolla was our means to get back to Kolonaki and we settled in the nearby 24 hour bar. By this stage, hypothermia was rife amongst the group but solace was found 'neath one of those huge gas heater tower things. A round of Mythos was eagerly taken as RA, MGA, Vas, Paz, Lawman, RA and MM began to feel like that kid off the Ready Brek adverts, you know the one with that Sellafield-warm glow around him. It is to Lawman's acclaim that his flight was only a handful of hours away, yet he felt that staying up and swallowing turbid beer was preferable to having twenty minutes sleep back at Omonoia. Just when we thought that things couldn't get any better, we had a visitor. Blind Dog clearly wanted to say goodbye, had wandered down the street and was hanging around, looking for vagabonds to chew. We keenly invited him to share our peanuts, whilst Vas demonstrated a highly controversial way of patting a dog's head, viz. high intensity slapping with an outstretched hand. In the same way that one of David Bowie's eyes changed colour when he was hit on the head by a teacher, it would be easy to imagine the incarcerated hound enjoying a brief regaining of sight by the cranial blows which rained down upon his filthy head. It was only right that we should strengthen our reminiscences of such a comical but tatty creature by Polaroid means, so whilst the heir to the Barbara Woodhouse crown placed a pair of shades over the bemused creature's eyes, we all snapped frenetically like Japanese tourists. Given Blind Dog's eternal oblivion to all this, and Vas' beaming face, one couldn't help expecting a modern-day version of the Peters' and Lee classic "Welcome Home" to ring out


"Come on in, and close the door"

At around 4 a.m., food was in order. Our favourite souvaki establishment was closer to opening time than it was to closing time so we went to the local Everest all-night eatery. Whilst munching on our sausage and beef burger delights, our eyes were drawn to a dishevelled being wandering around. It was a 50 or so years old long-haired tr**p, well-tanned it has to be said, wearing a rammy shawl and very little else. Even though we all collectively agreed that to laugh at such a pitiful form would be sinful, a trip to the confessional would be a small price to pay. Lawman came back to the St.George and sat up watching MTV with MGA and myself for a bit before deciding that he better get back to his hotel and pack before the flight left without him

The sandman took us

Thursday 8th March 2001

Later that morning Vas and myself had a stroll down to the old Olympic stadium, this being the final piece in the cultural jigsaw which we had undertaken, on the way passing a couple of those Ministry of Silly Walk soldiers who are always seen falling over on You've Been Framed during a particularly tricky swivel. The stadium is, as one would expect, highly impressive. We guessed that it would hold somewhere between 25 and 30 000, although given the steepness of terracing in the upper echelons, even the most dedicated of TTCs would be firmly ensconced onto their marble seats. The track was a funny shape too, longer and narrower than is now conventional, although this didn't seem to bother a couple of gimmers who spent half an hour or so just walking lap after lap. And they kept to their lanes too (British 4 x 100m team take note)


"Oh I say, nice discus Odysseus"

Back at the Diesel bar, MGA, Paz, Redbye and RA were demolishing souvakis, toasted sandwiches and sausages so we introduced our own boccal ball-wreckers into the equation. Oh, and apparently Des Lynam had walked passed a couple of times.......


Elegance, sheer elegance

Blind Dog was clearly still recovering from a headache as he appeared to not even see us. We'd been chucked. Took the now-biblical steps back to the hotel, checked out, got in a couple of quite acceptable taxis for a change and made our way to the airport. We'd allowed ourselves a good 40 minutes to make a 20 minute journey, and despite our driver breaking each and every law of the admittedly-thrifty Greek Highway Code, we still had little time to relax in the departures lounge. Security appeared fairly mediocre as I beeped my way through the electronic doorframe. When asked if I had anything metal on me, I simply showed him my Seiko. He waved me through with no corpal prodding, seemingly convinced that I had nothing else metallic concealed on my person. Very trusting these Greeks ! Surely it's just coincidence that Pan Am 103 started its journey here?

Frugally uneventful journey back to Manchester. Steve Coppell sat in front of us on the flight to Gatwick, and BBC reporter Tim Sebastian sat in front of MGA on the shuttle. MGA took offence to the journalist's reclined seat, and gave a few gentle nudges. Redbyte, who by this stage was actually turning into a gin and tonic, gave the interviewer's chair-back a real thump, almost sending the ignorant BBC bastard into the cockpit. To give him his due, being shot at in Freetown and almost being held hostage by Mugabe's henchmen in Harare had given Sebastian the patience of a saint, and no retaliatory comments were forthcoming. Back at Manchester, RA discovered the financial perils of leaving your car for three days in the walkable short-stay car park rather than in its bus-ride-away bigger brother

And so ended a trip eastwards, to a land where ancient gods smiled on foreigners and where foreigners urinated on ancient gods, where an MOT is a laughable concept and car tax is the name of a cheap local brandy, where cataract-ridden hounds and naked tramps rule the streets, where pre-packed tissues are the staple currency, where the pollution makes Middlesbrough resemble a sanatorium, where insects are anything but individuals and where girls are a cup size or two bigger

"Wild dogs never lose it
Wild dogs never chose this way
Wild dogs never close your eyes
And wild dogs always shine"
© MM 11th March 2001 

[The Real Laoislad]

The good thing about this final will be that it will prove for once and for all how fookin lucky Liverpool were 2 years ago. I fancy 3 0 at half time and that it stays 3 0 this time.  No drink allowed at half time in the Milan dressing room either, because I know for a fact they uncorked a couple of bottles in the dressing rooms 2 years ago and they therefore deserved to get beat then, I would like to think they will be more professional now. Anyway Liverpool should stop crowing about history as they are in for one hell of a tanking in 3 weeks and everything they say now will come back at them.  Any team that cant defeat Charlton shouldnt deserve to be in the champions league.     

So im sure you'll agree the same can be said about a team that can't beat Middlesborough/West Ham??

Also Liverpool have played Charlton only once this year and Liverpool beat them 3-0 so i don't know where you get that statistic from

[realredhandfan]

Laois Lad, you highlighted my last statement -  do you believe any team that cant defeat  Charlton should be in the champions league?  I want you to give me your immediate answer to that question - the statemnt stands alone - it has f**k all to do with Liverpool.  Do you believe any team that cant defeat  Charlton should be in the champions league? If so the future of the champions league is fucked and Liverpool are welcome to it, glorified intertoto cup it has become.

[The Real Laoislad]

Laois Lad, you highlighted my last statement -  do you believe any team that cant defeat  Charlton should be in the champions league?  I want you to give me your immediate answer to that question - the statemnt stands alone - it has f**k all to do with Liverpool.  Do you believe any team that cant defeat  Charlton should be in the champions league? If so the future of the champions league is fucked and Liverpool are welcome to it, glorified intertoto cup it has become.

Sour Grapes

And what are you on about regarding Charlton im lost?

[Square Ball]

An Fear Rua

where some of those boys from the Red Issue?

[GalwayBayBoy]

Laois Lad, you highlighted my last statement -  do you believe any team that cant defeat  Charlton should be in the champions league?  I want you to give me your immediate answer to that question - the statemnt stands alone - it has f**k all to do with Liverpool.  Do you believe any team that cant defeat  Charlton should be in the champions league? If so the future of the champions league is fucked and Liverpool are welcome to it, glorified intertoto cup it has become.

I believe if you look at AC Milan they've lost to some fairly crap teams in Serie A this season. Does that mean they don't deserve to be there either?

Should only undefeated teams be allowed into the Champions League?