Stockport have never actually won anything, except the 'fair play' award which is given to teams who come last, but the organisers want to come back next year. Invariably the winner has been football itself. I love spending the week with old and ageing friends, going to places you wouldn't otherwise go to, playing football and having fun. It is a fabulous distraction from normal life and we can pretend to be teenagers again.
Since my vertebral artery dissection last year I haven't really played much, and this year is only going to involve a cameo performance, if required for the team. As it happens it was required because, as usual, by the last day there are barely eleven players who can walk, never mind run around in thirty degree heat. We have played teams from Italy, Spain, France of course, but also from as far away as Argentina, Algeria and Australia. In fact last year I was shouting for the Aussies when they were playing our team. Only for fun you understand. This year I have been presented with an Australian football shirt, but we didn't end up playing them after all. Pity really, it was fun last year. It was the occasion of the, now infamous, fart-off between my champion, Tim (pretty boy)Hennel, and Dave (Buttons) Pickering.
My 'friend' Phil, of which more later, made the mistake of putting up his own champion, Dave, against mine. In an awesome display of at-will wind-breaking Tim devastated the opposition. It ended up as a 'no-contest' as Dave couldn't even muster a squeak. Tim rounded off his performance by skipping up the touchline, during the game, whilst dribbling the ball and parping all at the same time. What a guy!
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Back to Porec and a bit of historical context. You can skip this bit if you like. Poreč is a town on the western coast of the Istrian peninsula of Croatia. Its major landmark is the 6th century Euphrasian Basilica, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1997. We didn't see this of course. Poreč is almost 2,000 years old, and is set around a harbour protected from the sea by the small island of Sveti Nikola (St. Nicholas). The town's 17,000 population live mostly on the outskirts. It has a 37 km long shoreline stretching from the Mirna River near Novigrad in the north to Funtana and Vrsar in the south. The area has been inhabited since prehistoric times. During the 2nd century BC, Roman Castrum was built where the town centre is now. Emperor Augustus in the 1st century made it part of the Roman colony of Colonia Iulia Parentium. In the 3rd century the settlement had an organized Christian community. The earliest basilica contained the remains of and was dedicated to Saint Maurus of Parentium and dates back to the second half of the 4th century.
The floor mosaic is preserved in the garden of the Euphrasian Basilica.
After the fall of the Roman Empire in 476, Porec fell under the control of various rulers. First, it was held by the Ostrogoths and after 539 was part of the Byzantine Empire. From 788 it was ruled by the Franks. A short period of independence followed before it was ruled again by the Patriarchate of Aquileia. In 1267 Poreč became part of the Republic of Venice. The city adopted the Venetian style of architecture. In 1354 the city was destroyed by the Genoese, but in 1363 the town was given the City Statute by the Venetain government. The population was decimated by plague at the end of the 16th and the beginning of the 17th century. After the fall of the Venetian Republic, Poreč came under the sovereignty of the Habsburg Monarchy.
Between 1805 and 1814, Poreč was part of the Napoleonic Kingdom of Italy and then of the Illyrian Provinces, nominally part of the First French Empire. After this period it was returned to the Habsburgs, with the Monarchy reorganized into the Austrian Empire. Towards the end of the 19th century close ties grew with the city of Trieste.
In 1861, Poreč became a shipbuilding center. It was also a popular tourist resort for the Austro-Hungarian aristocracy. Between 1902 and 1935 the Parenzana (from the name 'Parenzaner Bahn'), a narrow-gauge railway line connected the town to Trieste.
After 1918, Porec was annexed by the Kingdom of Italy. During the second World War the city was bombed by the Allies 34 times, damaging much of the historic city. In 1947, it became part of Croatia. Most of the Italian population left the city and was replaced by Slavic people from various parts of Yugoslavia. From then Poreč was a city of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. In 1991 Croatia became an independent state.
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By the time we arrived in Porec, Stockport had already lost 9-1, 6-0 and 2-1. Mine was a 'demi-tour' from Tuesday to Saturday. With me were Phil Roberts & Dave Pickering, as previously mentioned, Obe and Cranny. We had an early start on Tuesday and flew to Venice. A beautiful city. I have been before, but as a student on 'inter-rail' and couldn't remember much of it. We had a beer in St Marc's square. It was so hot I swapped my trousers for my shorts. We couldn't get to see much, the temperature was high and we had our luggage with us, so we went for a meal. A passable meal, a little rushed, and a couple of bottles of wine.
During the meal Dave received some tragic personal news and had to fly home, but the rest continued. By now a little squiffy.
We had to check in for the ferry crossing. For this I needed my passport. Nowhere to be found. 'Come on Roberts, what have you done with it?' Phil looks blank 'I haven't got it.' I'd believe most people, but not him. 'I don't trust you, I'm sick of you!' I pretend to be angry to lighten the mood. On this occasion I know that he really doesn't have it. 'Oh God, where've I left it?' I pray allowed. I'm trying to think but it's hot and the wine is affecting my concentration. Obe takes control. 'Right empty out you bags'. So in the middle of a busy ferry terminal, my bags get emptied onto the floor. Then Roberts asks the key question 'when did you last have it?' Through customs of course. 'And what were you wearing?' Genius. I reach for my folded trousers, and remember taking them off in St Marc's square.
'Phew'. There, safe and sound, is my passport. We may proceed. I hand over all responsibility to the others now. Let's just get on board. The ferry port is quite dark and I don't have my glasses, it is bustling, I'm feeling a bit weak from having been in a panic and the wine is taking a hold of my brain. We queue up to join the ferry. People milling around everywhere. Are we in the right queue even?
'Have you got your boarding pass?' asks Phil. 'What boarding pass?' 'I've got mine' he grins. I look round. 'Here's mine' says Obe, and shows me. Cranny too. 'Where's mine then?' another panic. We reach the large check-in person, a stern looking Venetian sailor, with folded arms. What now.
'I've got it here' says Roberts eventually, 'but we need to teach you a lesson not to be rude to me, you'll have to beg for it'. The room is spinning, people crowding, queue staring, soon-to-be ex-friends laughing. So I get down on my knees and beg. Ha ha. How amusing. Very funny.
It is a three hour crossing from Venice to Porec, no doubt lovely on a calm day. Today is choppy. Very choppy indeed. It started off as fun, as we were thrown six inches into the air by the increasingly high waves. A bit like a funfair, we were throwing our arms in the air with each bump.
Then the vomiting started. As quickly as the smell of sick spread, so did the vomiting. Loose shopping is being thrown about. Limp or fainting women are dragged off to the back of the boat. They say it is less bumpy at the back. I think they just threw the weak ones overboard, hoping for the same effect as throwing Jonah to the fish in the Bible story. If that's what they had in mind, it didn't work. I have a pretty strong stomach, but this is nearly too much for me too, especially with half a bottle of wine swilling around my stomach.
Eventually we get to dry land. I managed to hang on to the venetian food and wine. Finally we're in Porec old town. We find a bar and call for coffee, while we watch the Holland v. Uruguay game. The Dutch win of course. Once the coffee settles our nerves it's on to beer.
I expected Porec to be more rustic, but in fact the waterfront is quite modern. After the game we head off to the hotel. It is said to be three star, but it is fine for me. The restaurant has kept us some food as it is now quite late.
My room is on the second floor, and the next day I discover it has a shared veranda with Roberts. No doubt there'll be more pranks. I'd better get in there first. The rooms overlook the pool which in turn overlooks a wood and then the sea. I think it's quite lovely. Our time in Porec was to be too short, but I would very much like to come again.
While we were there we played two games and I contributed to both in a small way. It's more to feel part of the lads, and join in the after match banter. Anyway I think I performed reasonably well considering I've hardly played in the last year. By next year I'll be back to full fitness and hope to play more, although it will always be an anxiety to head the ball. Thing is, I could never head the ball anyway.
One of the days was a day off from football. We spent the day in Porec town and had lunch in a roof top restaurant. The place is quite beautiful. I had a huge sea bass an felt quite full. Marvelous, this is the life.We didn't win any of the remaining games either. The opposition are quite happy to make short passes and run into spaces until the last third. Then shoot, dribble or cross into a goal scoring position. Cheating really.
Our team seem to lack the confidence to take our time on the ball, pass to each other to build up that confidence, and work our way up the pitch. Instead, it's the long glory ball, hard to control, and loose it under pressure. Sound familiar? I wonder? Does our National Psyche make us do this, and is that why our England team is so crap?
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