Memories of Porto? My two sons, both early 20's arrived Wednesday morning (after having paid for flights and hotel in Istanbul, which meant no refunds but at least they can have a week in Istanbul later in the year). I arrived in Porto with my brother, both in our 50's, on Friday afternoon. Totally stressed after all the hoops we had to jump through with expensive PCR tests, anxious wait for results, forms to fill in, trouble printing boarding passes (after Ryanair had changed outbound and inbound flight times three times, all requiring new online check ins and changes to the forms), had two addresses for our hotel with no confirmation, etc etc etc. All this on top of none of us getting match tickets due to all four of us only having 10,000 to 10,500 points when it sold out at around 13,000, not to mention difficulty getting through on the phonelines and even waiting in online queues to get on City and EUFA's websites, etc etc etc. My old mobile phone, with a battery life of fuck all and all memory used up, didn't help for storing test results and forms and receipts for return UK 2 day tests all stored on it which I had to show at numerous times during the trip.
We arrive in Porto and get a taxi drive to our hotel by a mad taxi driver who insisted on texting whilst driving fast all the way, resulting in me and my brother in the brace position. Eventually get to the main river front where most Blues are boozing and some blue on blue shenanigans and a few blues baiting the Chelsea fans at their bar next to us. Met up with my two sons and a few mates who reassured us that it wouldn't kick off as it had already kicked off the night before on the Thursday. Good night drinking cut short by the 10.30pm bar closures. Choice of beer with blues or going for food before 10.30pm; the beer won. Me and my brother walked to the stadium Saturday morning with a view of buying match tickets from the touts and sussing out the security for potential jibbing in nearer match time. With what breath we had left after walking what seemed like the City of a thousand hills, we chatted to the touts. No fans were around but plenty of stadium staff, security, Police and stewards knocking about. The small outside ticket office wasn't due to open until around 6.00pm. The small number of touts were only offering etickets via phone links, all at £600, and all potentially from some Nigerian Prince who couldn't attend due to inheriting many £ millions in Nigeria and hiding from the government! No paper tickets so we didn't take the chance. We also concluded that the chances of jibbing in the ground later were almost impossible, due to high numbers of stewards, security and Police, plus ticket and covid checks at the outer roads, more ticket and covid checks at the barriers outside the ground, then further ticket checks at the turnstiles all manned by plenty of stewards who would be keeping a very close eye on a small maximum crowd of only 14,000. So not just one checkpoint but three, all heavily stewarded.
We got back to the City fans unofficial area by the river early Saturday afternoon and immediately went on the booze. We had plenty but not too much as the bars were heaving and it took ages to get served. Met up again with my two sons and a few friends, the sun was shining, blues were in good spirits and singing, and a good pre match atmosphere all round. Had photo's took with Andy Morrison (great bloke) and Buzzer, then serenaded Vinny and Zabba in the hotel near the river front. Persuaded my two sons to watch the game with us at the City Fan Zone further up the river as it was impossible to jib in the ground without bone fide tickets. We all went to the City Fan Zone around 6.00pm after a fair few beers and a fair bit of sunburn. Me and my brother decided to give it one last go at getting tickets from the Ticket Collection Portacabin outside the Fan Zone. No spares, returns, cancellations, nothing. So, with beer talking more than sense, we borrowed a ticket from a mate, showed it at the covid check in window together with our negative covid tests and bravo, we've both got yellow neg check wristbands. In a mood of optimism we told my lads to get into the Fan Zone to watch the game on the big screen, as we were going to the stadium to try our luck getting in without having any tickets on us.
We manage to get onto a shuttle coach. Great atmosphere with everyone singing and excited, with me and my brother slightly subdued due to the fact that we didn't have match tickets. But being on the official fan coach meant that we drove past the first security check no problem. One down, two to go! We've got less than 2 hours before kick off to find a way in. It was heart breaking watching everyone else go through the second barrier security check with their tickets and covid wrist bands. I won't describe how we got through the second outer security check for obvious reasons, but we did! One last security check to get through, the heavily stewarded turnstiles, and its now 7.30pm. We are so close. Two down and just one to go! Tantalisingly close. We've both had season cards for nearly 50 years, been to hundreds of aways, been attacked many times, been on the CL scheme since its inception, jumped through hoops to get this far in Porto. We deserved, like so many, many Blues, to be there. We were 30 minutes and 30 metres away from being in the ground. So, so close. I won't describe how, but we were both in the ground standing at seats in the City end just as the teams kicked off!!! Result. It felt like The Great Escape but in reverse.
Have we ever gone to a stadium without tickets before in our lives? Yes. Once, when we bought tickets off a tout outside Bradford City in 1989. Was we stupid to even try to get into a heavily stewarded and Policed CL Final without tickets? Yes. We could have easily missed the game, whether live in the ground or on TV. Was we lucky to get in? Yes, very, very lucky. But he who dares Rodders, he who dares.
After the game finished, we didn't hang around and walked a long way with plenty of Blues back into the city centre. We eventually stopped off at a local cafe which sold cheap beers to drown our sorrows. The owners didn't really have a choice to refuse us all beers until the Police called at around midnight and shut the place down. We eventually got back to our cheap hotel room with beers in the fridge and the American Chelsea fans staying in the room next door gave us their genuine commiserations over the outside balcony.....a nice touch, as we might not have recipricated it if it was the other way round. Sunday morning came, a few more beers and a local Francesinho (they are perfect for a hangover), and flag a taxi back to the airport Sunday afternoon. Long queues at Porto airport and all the electronic notice boards were down so no one knew which gate to go to, plus no one to ask either. Piss poor and meant plenty of Blues missed their flights back home. A very, very heavy touch down at Manchester Airport, resulting in a broken aircraft windshield no less, but we were home. Just three days away but a lifetime of memories and stories.
