A Russian Revelation

[EvilDave]

Welcome one and all to another EvilDave adventure. This is a little different, something I've tried before but lost control of. I hope you find it enjoyable and interesting, and can forgive my own Russian obsession!

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The idea seemed simple enough when we were 19 and dreaming wild dreams over a map of what was then the Soviet Union. Sean and I were obsessed with all things Russian, but above all its football - while our friends watched as British clubs did battle in what would become the Premier League, Shaun and I longed for the early rounds of European competition, when the likes of Torpedo Moscow, Dinamo Minsk and Ararat Yerevan would take to the field against the best NATO had to offer them. We loved the exotic names, the foreign sponsors, the political intrigue between every match. Those halcyon days, however, were never long enough, and so The Plan was born.

The Plan was, by hook or by crook, to travel across the USSR watching as much football as we possibly could. In those days it was little more than a pipedream - the odds of two Cambridge students being allowed into the country, let alone into football stadia in several closed cities, were non-existent - but it was a pipedream that we would not let die.

Of course, friendships don’t last forever, and while Sean and I kept in touch, even meeting up every now and then for a pint or three, we were never close enough to make the vision a reality, even after the fall of the Iron Curtain. Our lives led us down two very different paths - me down the road of mind-numbing middle management, unhappy marriage and divorce, and he into entrepreneurship, financial success and a beautiful family. He never changed, but I suspect our different paths were a reason behind our drifting apart.

But then a routine health check-up came with devastating news - malignant cancer, and two years at most. He fought well, mainly for the sake of his three kids, but ultimately he couldn’t beat the killer disease. His funeral was a perfect summary of the man - full of joy, much-loved, and dearly missed.

Although I feel bad saying it, Sean’s death not only made me question my own mortality, but made me increasingly jealous. Here was a man who had touched the lives of many, a man I had the honour of knowing as a friend, and yet if I put myself in his shoes it seemed unlikely I would receive even a fraction of the send-off. Shamefully, those were the thoughts that occupied my brain.

But when I received a letter from a solicitor I had previously had no dealings with, Sean did not cross my mind. When he was fighting in hospital I had visited on a handful of occasions, reminiscing about our own glory days. Although we mentioned our old dreams, the thought of living them again didn’t even occur.

Yet with that letter came a cheque for several thousand pounds - Sean’s business had taken off far beyond the UK - and a simple note to go and fulfil The Plan. Do it, Sean had written in his own hand. Do it, do it well, and do it memorably. Do it for him.

It didn’t take me long to weigh up the options. I could stay, continuing my day-to-day routine of the 9-5 in the same four walls, coming home and drinking myself to an early death in my shabby excuse of a London flat. Or I could take the money, tell my energy-sapping vampire of a boss where to stick his performance-based pay, and take the trip of a lifetime across the country that had fascinated me since birth.

The following day, I did two things. I told my boss I was quitting with immediate effect, and I bought a map of Russia to pin up in the flat. This would take some planning.

[jdoyle9293]

Very intriguing start here, mate. Will definitely be a reader and hope it will rival your other story, which I know it will.

[Greyfriars Bobby]

I'm in from the start, too. Looking forward to what will come!

[mark wilson27]

Can only echo what the previous two posts have said Dave. Looking forward to reading this

[EvilDave]

Thank you for the encouragements kind sirs, hopefully the intrigue is well-placed!

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The plan, when it did come together, was beautifully simple. I would fly out to Russia for the first day of the domestic football season, and using the yet-to-be published fixture lists as my guide, would meander my way eastwards to the Pacific coast of that great nation. Assuming I had not run out of funds by then - something which seemed almost impossible thanks to Sean’s generosity - I would make an about-turn and come home in similar fashion, reaching the conclusion of my trip at the same time of the season’s climax.

The hardest part would be the travelling, but having visited both Moscow and St Petersburg since the collapse of Communism, I at least knew my way around the Russian rail booking system, and having done my best to keep my language skills up to speed since university - although this was something I had not always been great at - I hoped to make the most of the extensive bus links around the country where the trains would not go. I had no wife to miss, no children to cry over, not even a job to worry about - I was free, and I was going to make the most of it.

I even toyed with the idea of writing to various football magazines to see if they were interested in a feature, but in the end decided against it. I didn’t want to be tied down by any commitments but my own, and ultimately the idea of trying to meet deadlines for the sake of a few column inches just didn’t appeal. Besides, I’m no wordsmith.

And so it was with a joyful heart that I purchased my tickets. I decided not to go straight to Moscow - where there is much football to be seen - but to St Petersburg, connecting in Frankfurt for the cheapest tickets. I arrived just 15 minutes behind schedule, breezed through customs with little more than a case full of clothes and a brand new laptop, and set off for my accommodation for the next few days - a cosy little hostel on the banks of the Neva.

The owners laughed when I told them my plans, but quite frankly I didn’t care. They laughed even harder when I told them I’d be starting not with a game hosted by title hopefuls Zenit, but their smaller, almost insignificant cousins Dinamo. That I could understand, but they were missing the point of my journey. I was not just travelling the top flight, but the entire professional game - Sean had told me to do it well, and had given me more than enough money to do so. I intended to keep my side of the bargain.

[EvilDave]

7th July 2013

Match #1

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Petrosvky Malaya Sportivnaya Arena

Dinamo St Petersburg vs Torpedo Moscow

The journey: Arrival in St Petersburg could not be easier - a connecting flight in Frankfurt making my journey from Heathrow a little over seven hours before landing at Pulkovo, the airport of Russia’s second city. ‘Piter,’ as the city is casually known by the locals, is often seen as the cultural capital of the nation, a window on Europe which often puts it at odds with the distinctly Asiatic feel of long-time rival Moscow. Most Russians prefer one to the other, but as a tourist it is perfectly possible to enjoy both in equal measure - particularly for those with an interest in history.

St Petersburg holds particular resonance for me - the main reason I choose to begin my journey here rather than the capital - due to a trip that Sean and I made shortly after the Berlin Wall came down. We were here for just three days, but were amazed at the otherworldliness of the place, the cultural differences between our own Western comforts and those enjoyed by the Russians, and the biting cold - we foolishly visited in early March, with snow still on the ground. It was my first true taste of Russia, and a memorable one.

The match: In terms of quality, I will be very disappointed if I do not see a better game within the next week, let alone year. Dinamo are St Petersburg’s second side - lagging light years behind the giants of Zenit - and with the advent of two new clubs in the regional Vtoroi Divizion, are in real danger of slipping even lower. In the last few years they have endured real financial struggle, and are on a slippery slope.

Their opponents today, Torpedo Moscow, were once one of the big clubs from the capital, taking Soviet titles in the 1960s and led by the ‘Russian Pele’ Eduard Streltsov, whose name is now immortalised on the club’s ageing stadium. Today, after numerous failed takeovers, ill-advised buyouts and a handful of rebirths, Torpedo are also a side in danger of real decline. On the field, they lack a certain quality, although the likes of defender Ivan Novoseltsev and veteran winger Denis Boyarintsev - a former star with rivals Spartak - should keep their heads above water.

Today, it was the keen mind of Boyarintsev that settled the match in the first half. After 25 minutes of little to no action, the winger’s first touch allowed him to cut inside his hapless marker, and his second saw him drill a low drive beyond Aleks Chikradze in the Dinamo goal to give his side the lead. In the second half, it was Boyarintsev again at the heart of a rare positive move, his weighted ball to loanee Irakly Logua deserving of a second, but the Dinamo Moscow youngster fired over to keep the score at 1-0.

That was how things ended, and while the action on the field was poor, I was already hooked. The enthusiasm of the sparse but vocal crowd was intoxicating, the thrill of being back in Russia was enduring, and the buzz of being back in the stands was overwhelming. This was going to be a wonderful journey.

Dinamo St Petersburg 0-1 Torpedo Moscow

Scorers: Denis Boyarintsev (27)

Attendance: 919

Teams Seen: 2

Goals Seen: 1

[EvilDave]

17th July 2013

Match #2

Prem’er Liga

Stadion Petrovsky

Zenit St Petersburg vs Volga Nizhny Novgorod

The journey: Just over a week since my last game, I found myself once again taking the underground train to Petrovsky, crossing the slow-moving Neva once more to the city’s famous arena. This time, rather than joining a trickle of fans heading into the smaller of the two venues on site, I was one of thousands queuing to enter the main event. Petrovsky is a small, compact ground which when full produces a simply electric atmosphere, and with almost 18,000 people packed in for Zenit’s first game of the season, the noise was quite something.

The match: What a difference a week makes! Last time I was here, it took almost half an hour for anything to happen. This time, Just 40 seconds after kick-off the ball was in the net. Almost all of the 18,000-strong crowd were on their feet in appreciation, and a handful of those in the press box were already awarding the 2013-14 title to Zenit.

Poor Volga didn’t even touch the ball before picking it out of their net, such was the pace of the attack. Brazilian forward Hulk, purchased for a Russian record fee to the shock of the footballing world, fed the ball from kick-off to local hero Aleksandr Kerzhakov, who in turn fed Portuguese attacker Danny. He beat not one but two men before slipping a pass to Oleg Shatov, and the young midfielder clipped a lofted pass into the area before the defence could close him down. Hulk’s head knocked it down into space, and there was Danny to lash in a powerful half-volley which no goalkeeper would have saved.

For the rest of the half, Zenit’s expensively-assembled side simply toyed with their poorer rivals from Nizhny Novgorod, and were unlucky not to double the lead when Shatov’s drive cannoned back off the far post. Volga, a side punching above their weight in the top division and with hopes merely of survival, created nothing, and were powerless to resist the many attacks of their Gazprom-back hosts.

In the second half, the tempo dropped somewhat, with Shatov and midfield partner Axel Witsel - another big-money signing from the Portuguese league - dictating play and allowing their counterparts very little of the ball. One foray forward from the Belgian brought about a penalty and a chance to wrap things up for the hosts, but Hulk opted for power over position, and could only watch as Sergei Pareiko’s firm hand turned the ball round the post.

In the end it mattered little, as Volga recorded just a single shot on target in the course of the 90 minutes, an effort from range that Yuri Lodygin was more than equal to. The home fans would have preferred more goals, their millionaire players left frustrated, but ultimately it was three points on the board as they looked to claim back the title from CSKA Moscow. It may only have been 1-0, but it could have been more, and the football on show was far superior to that of their less esteemed cousins of last week.

Zenit St Petersburg 1-0 Volga Nizhny Novgorod

Scorers: Danny (1)

Attendance: 17974

Teams Seen: 4

Goals Seen: 2

[EvilDave]

28th July 2013

Match #3

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Zapad’

Stadion Kirovets

FK Tosno vs Sever Murmansk

The journey: There were three main reasons for wanting to see this particular match. The first was purely selfish - St Petersburg is a beautiful city, and by waiting for another few days to visit Tosno - a team based not too far outside the city - I was able to stay a little while longer in the self-proclaimed ‘Venice of the North.’ The longer I stayed, the longer I wanted to stay.

The second was today’s opposition. The lack of professional outfits and the sheer time spent travelling to the far North of Russia meant I was unlikely to see Sever Murmansk on home soil, and so being able to at least watch them on an away day was a welcome bonus. I wanted as broad a picture of the Russian game as possible, and life at the extremities certainly ticks the boxes.

The third was an interest in Tosno, a very young club who were trying to make their way into the nation’s elite. For a small team they had a very respectable budget, and there were already rumours that Zenit were looking to take a controlling stake in the club and run it as a farm team in the lower reaches of the league. Whether the goals of both sides would conflict, or whether Gazprom’s wealth could propel a second team up the table remains to be seen.

The match: The first thing I noticed about Tosno was just how far they had to go if they were to build themselves into a credible contender for fans’ affections. Whether the rumours of Zenit’s involvement was putting people off, whether the town was simply not interested in its fledgling football team, or whether there were other reasons stunting the side’s growth in the community I know not, but the fact that I was one of just 82 people who turned out to watch them in their bid for promotion did not bode well for their hopes of financial stability.

The second thing was that they seemed a very reasonable outfit - at least compared to their opponents from the frozen north. Within 15 minutes Tosno had the lead, and the goal was beautiful in its simplicity. One crunching tackle in midfield, one quick ball to the flanks, one curling cross from deep, and one towering header from beanpole forward Aleksandr Radchenko were all it took to break the deadlock, and cause all 81 of my compatriots to celebrate - no-one had made the trip from Murmansk to back a losing cause.

A second goal came around the half hour, this time from a dead ball. The rangy Radchenko was fouled attempting to control a long ball on his chest, and from the resultant free kick his strike partner Dolmatov simply smashed a shot past a badly-placed wall and beyond the reach of the goalkeeper. At half-time the game was all but up for Sever, and they faced a long journey back with absolutely nothing to show for their efforts.

Nothing was all they could claim, and in the dying moments Tosno rubbed salt in their gaping wounds. A corner came in, two defenders collided as they leapt for the ball, and defender Sergei Osadchuk was left with the simplest of tasks to prod the ball home from inside the six-yard box. The 80 or so fans left happy, and I left impressed with Tosno’s efficiency and pleased I hadn't gone all the way to Murmansk to watch such a poor performance from the opposition.

FK Tosno 3-0 Sever Murmansk

Scorers: Alex Radchenko (14), Ilya Dolmatov (29), Sergei Osadchuk (87)

Attendance: 82

Teams Seen: 6

Goals Seen: 5

[WLKRAS]

I'm liking this

[oche balboa]

I am enjoying this story, how far have you run the Russian league down too?

[EvilDave]

Thank you gents, your kind words are much appreciated. Oche - I'm running the three tiers you've seen so far, as unfortunately the mod I'm using does a fairly shoddy job of anything lower. Hopefully it's enough to keep you folks entertained!

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4th August 2013

Match #4

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Zapad’

Stadion Spartak

Dnepr Smolensk vs Pskov-747

The journey: Frustratingly there is no train which runs directly from St Petersburg - where I had to return due to Tosno’s lack of transport links - to Smolensk, so my first major journey of the entire trip was conducted in the stifling heat of an old Soviet-era minibus, the temperatures tipping 30 degrees in the middle of the day and only really cooling as we drove on through the night. Russia’s roads have very little in common with the motorways I am accustomed to in the UK, and the bumps and lumps lurking round every corner made sure that while me and my fellow passengers were on the road for around 10 hours, I did not sleep for more than five minutes at a time.

When we did arrive in Smolensk, it was the dead of night and the city slept. Over the coming days I would have ample opportunity to walk its streets, streets which always seem to be tinged with sadness. Over the years Smolensk has been the scene of both bloody battles and deep tragedy - the plane crash which claimed the life of Polish President Lech Kaczynski took place at the city’s airport - and there is a sombre cloud which seems to hover the lives of all who dwell here.

Yet there is no doubting that this city of some 300,000 people has played its part in Russia’s history, particularly in the Second World War. As one of the first major settlements reached by the Nazis under Operation Barbarossa, the majority of the city was destroyed as German forces overran it, but the remainder survived until its liberation in 1943. Now one of a handful of ‘Hero Cities,’ Smolensk bears its scars with a strange cocktail of sadness and patriotic pride.

The match: When the fixture list sent me to Smolensk, I was pleased with the opponents. Pskov was a city I had bypassed on the way, and so the chance to catch up with their side was a welcome bonus to the trip. Home team Dnepr have been struggling to make their way into the national leagues for some time, and there seemed to be a more optimistic mood among the fans this year - their manager Sergei Gunko having brought in several new faces.

It was one such face who got things off to a strong start for the hosts. Andrei Prudnikov, returning to his old club after a brief spell in Belarus, opened the scoring after 25 minutes with a poacher’s finish, a low ball across the face of goal deflected into his path by an unfortunate defender with the goalkeeper nowhere to be seen. Just eight minutes later, Pskov’s luck got worse - the ball worked its way out to Sergei Davydov on the Dnepr right, and his overhit cross swirled in the wind before dropping under the crossbar with the goalkeeper stranded once more. Dnepr had two goals, and both were extremely fortunate.

Pskov came out fired up for the second half, and almost immediately pulled a goal back, lone striker Khaliulla smashing home a bouncing ball in the penalty area, but much of their momentum was lost when the same man headed home what would have been the equaliser if not for the late flag of the assistant referee. Heads dropped, as did the pace of the game, and as it picked up again in the final few minutes, the visitors were caught out on the break. With just one man left back from a corner kick, substitute Andrei Arlashin ran clear for the hosts and showed a cool head to slot beyond the goalkeeper, who must have felt hard done by to concede three. The three points went to Dnepr, and for a brief moment the gloom lifted from the city streets.

Dnepr Smolensk 3-1 Pskov-747

Scorers: Andrei Prudnikov (25), Sergei Davydov (33), Andrei Arlashin (85); Rinat Khaliulla (47)

Attendance: 2828

[EvilDave]

11th August 2013

Match #5

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Eduarda Streltsova

Torpedo Moscow vs Neftekhimik Nizhnekamsk

The journey: If my journey from St Petersburg to Smolensk sat somewhere between a nightmare and a sauna, my five-hour train ride from the frontier city to the capital was positively luxurious. Buoyed by the knowledge I now had a significant amount of time to explore and enjoy Moscow in addition to my footballing adventure, my brief jaunt in second class passed by in what seemed like no time, the Russian Railways staff’s sour mood doing little to detract from my own contentment. Moscow was another place which held strong memories of the man who had sent me on this unlikely journey, and it was with happiness that I allowed myself to reminisce.

For anyone with an interest in Russia, Moscow is the city to visit. Spanning centuries, the capital is a melting pot of the various rulers and regimes that have at one point reigned over the vast Russian nation, and is at its heart a giant, sprawling monument to its own past. From the picture postcard walk around Red Square, taking in the mighty Kremlin, Lenin’s final resting place and the iconic twisted domes of St Basil’s Cathedral, to the decadence of the metro and the magnificent views from Sparrow Hills, there is little of Moscow that cannot be enjoyed. The ‘new Russians’ with their ill-gotten gains have ramped up prices in the very centre, the market for tourist tat is booming, but the city’s beating heart still pumps out Russia’s very lifeblood. It simply must be experienced.

The match: As in St Petersburg, I chose not to begin my stay in Moscow with one of the big sides, but with the poor relation - Torpedo, who emerged victorious in the first match of my travels. Eduard Streltsov is long gone, his talent unseen in the famous white shirt for decades, and even his stadium is now suffering the decay which has infected much of the nation’s industry and architecture. Yet Torpedo remain, and after a stronger than expected start to the season have heightened hopes of the upper reaches of the table.

Conversely, opponents Neftekhimik have made a lengthy journey from Tatarstan, and are expected to do little more than survive. A de facto farm club for Rubin Kazan, they rely on their parent club’s famed defence and the individual flair of one or two loan stars for their goals. Given that they had found the net just twice this season, they needed more if they were to match expectations.

On this occasion, it was the defences that won out, handing me my first goalless draw of the journey. It was the visitors who went closest to claiming the win, Colombian forward Walter Chala clipping the crossbar with a looping header that had the goalkeeper beaten, but the point was a fair outcome for both sides. The Tatar club returned outside the relegation zone, while Torpedo’s unbeaten run continued into another week. The fans seemed subdued by the lack of goalmouth action, but the expletives were also largely absent, a simpler sign of their satisfaction.

For my next match, I had something even lower key planned, and so I enjoyed being in the company of hundreds rather than handfuls. Torpedo’s fan have developed a reputation as a racist bunch, prone to acts of hooliganism, but in neither of the two matches I had seen had I witnessed anything of the sort. I only hoped the city’s other teams would not blacken their reputations in such a way.

Torpedo Moscow 0-0 Neftekhimik Nizhnekamsk

Scorers: None

Attendance: 857

Teams Seen: 9

Goals Seen: 9

[EvilDave]

18th August 2013

Match #6

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Tsentr’

Stadion Spartakovets

Spartak-2 Moscow vs Lokomotiv Liski

The journey: Second only to my first inter-match journey in St Petersburg - a return to the same stadium - this takes the prize for one of the shortest trips of the entire Plan. From the Eduard Streltsov, Spartakovets - also known by the name of Spartak’s founder, Nikolai Starostin - is a short underground journey away, although of course with a week between games I was making the trip from my accommodation rather than Torpedo’s residence.

Having spent another week in the capital, its draw remains every bit as strong, and while in my old job I would be priced out of all but the very limits of the suburbs, if Sean’s generous bounty were to take the place of a salary, I would find myself very much at home here. Staying away from the very centre and the lines of tourist traps, I have found great pleasure in wandering the streets, frequenting the bars, and slowly but surely discovering the vast metro network that dwells beneath the surface. I will be here for a little longer, and will almost certainly return.

The match: I mentioned last time that this game would be particularly low-key, and so it is. At Tosno I was one of 82 in the stands, and Spartakovets breaks the record with a paltry 74. However, whereas Tosno are a side with genuine ambitions and a hope of achieving them, there is understandably less interest in spending a Sunday afternoon watching Spartak Moscow’s reserves.

For me, however, it was a chance to get a glimpse of some of the talent that could well be making its way into the first team in the coming years, and could even play for their countries. As a bonus, there were one or two senior players making their way back from injury - goalkeeper Artem Rebrov and midfielder Denis Glushakov - including in the matchday squad for the home side, meaning I would have a rare chance to watch them up close rather than from a much greater distance for the first team.

But for those expecting Spartak’s seconds to steamroll their opposition, they had not done their homework. Like many sides at this level, Lokomotiv Liski sent out a physical team, specifically designed to bully the Muscovite youngsters off the ball at every opportunity, and there were one or two anxious moments in the opening minutes as visiting players tried a little too hard to make their mark on their opponents. Still, their ploy worked, and 10 minutes before the break Artem Struchkov outjumped his man to head a free kick past Rebrov for an unlikely lead.

But those in the red and white of Spartak were always going to be able to outplay their rivals, and as the second half wore on the technical gap between the two sides became increasingly apparent. When the equaliser did come shortly after the hour, it followed a sweeping move of 10 or 11 passes, the youngsters moving the defence around at will. Eventually the gap emerged, and through went Alexei Kozlov to tuck away the goal that ensured a share of the points for the young hosts. On today’s showing, Spartak’s future will be just fine.

Spartak-2 Moscow 1-1 Lokomotiv Liski

Scorers: Alexei Kozlov (63); Artem Struchkov (36)

Attendance: 74

Teams Seen: 11

Goals Seen: 11

[tenthreeleader]

Love the idea, ED. This is going to be a fun read.

[Greyfriars Bobby]

I'm enjoying this, too. You write up a match extremely well. KUTGW!

[EvilDave]

Thank you gents, glad to have you along for the ride. Match-writing is something I'm looking to improve, so I'm glad you're enjoying it Bobby.

--

19th August 2013

Match #7

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Tsentr’

Stadion Trud

Vityaz Podolsk vs Spartak Tambov

The journey: The wider Moscow Region is absolutely littered with professional football clubs, some more successful than others. One of the most famous, Saturn Ramenskoye, went bankrupt and has rebooted in the amateur ranks, while another, Khimki, played at home at the same time as I was occupied with Spartak-2. However, when I realised that Vityaz were at home the day after that very game, I could not resist.

Accordingly, I hopped on one of the pleasant suburban electrichki that run from the centre to the edges of the vast urban sprawl, watching the world go for around an hour before alighting in Podolsk. Big enough to be classed as its own town, it has a respectable sporting pedigree - a KHL side also named Vityaz were also based here until recently - and the football club are reading themselves for another push into the national leagues.

As a town, there is little to report. That suited me just fine, as I was only ever going to be here for the football before returning to Moscow.

The match: Before today, I had already seen six matches, and only three of them had generated more than a single goal. I had hoped that the visit of Spartak Tambov - the early league leaders who were averaging 2.5 goals per game - might go some way to rectifying that statistic, but a look at how the sides lined up, Vityaz deploying a flat back five, suggested I would be in for a disappointing evening.

However, my hopes were once again raised when Igor Boyarov turned in a cross at the far post with just five minutes on the clock. The crowd, numbering almost 1,200 - more than Torpedo Moscow in the division above - celebrated their unexpected start, and I settled down waiting to see just how the team from the Black Earth region would attempt to fight back.

In truth, I was disappointed. As soon as it became clear that Spartak were not the all-conquering force they had perhaps suspected, one of the Vityaz defenders moved into midfield, making a conventional 4-5-1 that successfully stifled any hints of creativity from the visitors. The leaders began to show their frustration well before half-time, and it was only a spot of leniency from the referee that ensured all 22 players made it to break.

Vityaz continued to try to suffocate the game in the second period, and in their end their lack of adventure let them down. With a quarter of an hour remaining, a spot of keep-ball in defence went horribly wrong, and Mikhail Tynyany found himself in possession with just one man and the goalkeeper to beat. He decided he didn’t need to expend any extra energy, and instead bent a curling shot into the corner from 25 yards. The home keeper could have done better, but it was a fine way to claim a point.

Leaving Podolsk, I felt pleased they hadn’t been able to hold on for the win. Sean had wanted me to show off the Russian game for the exciting sport it is, and watching a team base its entire strategy on defence succeed would have flown in the face of that spirit. Such thoughts were hopelessly idealistic, but they were equally easy to justify.

Vityaz Podolsk 1-1 Spartak Tambov

Scorers: Igor Boyarov (5); Mikhail Tynyany (77)

Attendance: 1187

Teams Seen: 13

Goals Seen: 13

[EvilDave]

24th August 2013

Match #8

Prem’er Liga

Stadion Lokomotiv

Lokomotiv Moscow vs Rubin Kazan

The journey: When I set out on my travels, I had little intention of spending so much time here in Moscow, but the city continues to surprise and excite me. Yes, it is almost too big to remain a single city, and travel can take an extortionate amount of time if you aren’t familiar with the underground system, but at each new turn there seems to be something new to entertain, inform or interest. What is more, I have even met people here who seem interested in my Plan, and it will be hard to leave their company. Still, that bridge will be crossed in due course.

With the national Luzhniki closed for refurbishment ahead of the 2018 World Cup, Lokomotiv’s home is the largest stadium in the city and certainly the most up-to-date. Known locally as Cherkizovo due to its location in the region, it is little surprise that the national side has made the ground its temporary home, and there would be plenty who advocate staying here even when Luzhniki opens up again. It has the feel of a modern European stadium, far removed from the romantic but antiquated concrete blocks in the Eduard Streltsov family. It lacks a little character, but makes up for it in comfort.

It is also remarkably easy to reach, and another ride on the metro brought me out just a brief walk from the gates, where I joined thousands of others ready to take my seat for the biggest game of my trip so far.

The match: Under Slaven Bilic last season, Lokomotiv slumped to 9th in the table, their worst finish since the Soviet era. With the Croatian departed, Leonid Kuchuk has been handed the reins, and made a handful of changes to what on paper should be a top six squad.

On the other side, Kurban Berdyev leads Rubin into his second decade of management having transformed the Tatar club from second tier also-rans to two-time Russian champions. While his defence-first style has perhaps cost the Turkmen the chance to manage in a bigger league, his tactical acumen is renowned throughout the country.

As expected, it was Loko who stormed out of the blocks, with lone striker Dame N’Doye twice going close in the opening exchanges. Much of the play seemed to be flowing down the right wing towards Aleksandr Samedov, but one slip would prove costly for hosts - with Samedov dispossessed, Rubin countered at speed, and Finnish international Roman Eremenko pierced the defence with a ball for Gokdeniz Karadeniz to side-foot beyond Guilherme in the home goal. To hear 11,000 people fall silent is a strange sensation indeed, but such was the effect of Rubin’s gameplan.

The next hour passed with no further scoring, but some of the highest quality football I had seen thus far. Eremenko and his French partner Yann M’Vila’s battle with the Lokomotiv pair of Magomed Ozdoev and Lassana Diarra was technically brilliant and absorbing from my neutral perspective, while both defences put on a clinic, much to the chagrin of their opposing strikeforces.

But there was to be a second goal, and it came from another Rubin counter. M’Vila this time proved the catalyst by pouncing on a poor Loko touch, and his ball into the channel found substitute Sardar Azmoun in full flow. Drifting inside, the Iranian teenager slipped past one man, drew the keeper out, and then knocked a pass sideways for fellow replacement Anton Soroka to roll into the unguarded net. There was still time to be played, but it was a fitting end to what was an engaging game between two impressive sides.

Lokomotiv Moscow 0-2 Rubin Kazan

Scorers: Gokdeniz Karadeniz (18), Anton Soroka (74)

Attendance: 10996

Teams Seen: 15

Goals Seen: 15

[EvilDave]

28th August 2013

Match #9

Prem’er Liga

Arena Khimki

CSKA Moscow vs Amkar Perm

The journey: I had earlier convinced myself that I had already spent too much time in Moscow, but when I saw the chance to witness the champions at home, I could not refuse. Leonid $lutsky led the Army Men to the title last year after a remarkable unbeaten run following the winter break, and with their settled squad they were one of the favourites for this year. An early wobble - defeats to Kuban and Zenit - has led to doubts, but they are still a strong side.

Another reason for taking up the opportunity to watch CSKA is the location of their home. Whilst I had given up on catching Khimki, I was at least able to travel to their hypothetical home - the Arena Khimki was opened for them in 2008, abandoned by them shortly afterwards due to their relegation from the top flight, as is now used by both CSKA and Dinamo while they have homes of their own built. this game provided an opportunistic compromise at worst.

However, the match would certainly mark my departure from Moscow after almost three weeks. With such a lengthy winter break, time was certainly going to be become an issue, and the bright lights and hidden gems of the capital had kept me distracted for a little too long. If this was my own journey, I would have seriously considered settling, but I had to remind myself that I was here on Sean’s business - this was his Plan, his money, and his journey as much as mine. For now, I would have to wave goodbye to this great city.

The match: If CSKA were hoping to restore their title credentials, they would have to do so against an Amkar side determined not to go home on the end of a thrashing. Having the worst goal difference of any top flight side at this point in the season did nothing for their confidence, and it was perhaps little surprise to see them take a more defensive approach for their trip to Moscow.

Perhaps more surprising was that it seemed to be doing the trick. The hosts’ front four of Alan Dzagoev, Zoran Tosic, Seydou Doumbia and the lightning-quick Ahmed Musa found little room to weave their intricate patterns, while Amkar defended so deep as to deny Musa the space he needed to make those untrackable runs into enemy territory. With the towering figure of Martin Jakubko a lone target up front, they did possess a rare threat of their own, but the experienced CSKA defence had little to do in the first half.

In the second the game of attack vs defence continued, and on roughly the hour mark we thought we had a breakthrough. Tosic and Dzagoev somehow worked a gap, and the former’s diagonal ball was gleefully tapped in by Musa racing in from the opposite flank. Unfortunately for the Nigerian, he had made his move a split-second too soon, and the officials rightly called play back for offside. Amkar lived to fight another day, and a point was in their grasp.

It remained there until the 87th minute, when a wonderful piece of play settled things for CSKA. Substitute Aleksandrs Cauna took the ball in midfield, cut inside off the left flank past one man, dummied a second with a drop of the shoulder, and then played a beautiful reverse ball between the two Amkar centre backs. Only Dzagoev had read the play, and as the defence scampered back to cover their error, the playmaker drilled a left-foot shot across the goal and in off the far post. Up went the roar of 13,000 fans who had just seen their frustrations turned to joy in an instant, and at full time I left the stadium highly satisfied. I had seen the champions, they had attacked to the death, and their endeavours had been rewarded. I would leave Moscow a happy man.

CSKA Moscow 1-0 Amkar Perm

Scorers: Alan Dzagoev (87)

Attendance: 13063

Teams Seen: 17

Goals Seen: 16

[EvilDave]

1st September 2013

Match #10

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Shinnik

Shinnik Yaroslavl vs Rotor Volgograd

The journey: I had determined to leave the capital, but I wasn’t going far. Not initially, at least. This time my train lasted a mere four hours as I rolled past the ancient city of Sergiev Posad and into the fabled Golden Ring, eventually pulling into the 1000-year old city of Yaroslavl on the mighty Volga river. With such a rich history, it was little surprise to be greeted with church after church as I made my way along its streets, the local trolleybuses seemingly passing every onion dome in the city as a matter of course.

To say that the match would be my 10th since arriving in Russia, and that I had only made it to Yaroslavl was a little worrying, but there are certainly worse places to wind up. A morning spent strolling the strelka - a pleasant area of reclaimed land at the confluence of the Volga and Kotorosl rivers - and an afternoon exploring the city’s ancient kremlin - climbing the bell tower for a stunning panorama of this storied city - was just one of several activities a casual tourist could enjoy, as while at this stage I had few points of comparison, Yaroslavl was certainly ahead of Tosno, Smolensk and Podolsk in my affections.

Indeed, I found it difficult why those with an interest in the Golden Ring did not focus more of their attention on Yaroslavl rather than nearby Suzdal or Vladimir, but I had not visited either of those cities. A million miles removed from the vibrant hustle and bustle of Moscow, Yaroslavl was a fine breed of provincial city - plenty going on, enough to see and do, but with a more relaxed and wholly more enjoyable pace than in the capital. I warmed to it instinctively.

The match: It took just four minutes for the visitors from Volgograd to take the lead, and things looked rather bleak for the navy and black stripes of Shinnik. But while Andrei Mikheev’s placed effort was greeted by a stony silence from the 2,500 or so in attendance, Eldar Nizamutdinov’s bullet header just moments was greeted with greater joy. We had only been playing for 10 minutes, and already we had a goal apiece. I was enjoying the teams’ scant regard for defending.

Sadly, that was as good as we got in the first period as both sides seemed to wake up at the back, Shinnik’s Ivorian full-back Alli N’Dri in particular excelling as the half wore on. Yet when the two sides emerged for the second period, it was the white-shirted visitors who once again exploded into life, netting with their first attack of the half through the right boot of Ruslan Valeev.

That stung Shinnik into action, and it was only a miraculous chain of events that prevented them taking the lead. Vladimir Korytko tested the hands of the visiting goalkeeper with a fierce drive from range, and his hands were found wanting, the ball bouncing out into the path of the onrushing Nizamutdinov. The striker’s first-time effort struck the outstretched boot of a defender and looped over the keeper only to strike the crossbar, and bounced back into the stranded stopper’s leg, only for him to turn and watch the ball trickle past the post.

It was as close as either side got before the final goal of the game, and it was Rotor who were rewarded for their adventure. Alexei Pugin got the credit for turning the ball beyond Aleksandr Malyshev, but it was Mikheev’s teasing ball in from the right which made the goal, the cross bending away from the keeper and leaving him unsure whether to come and claim or not. In the end his decision was the wrong one, and it proved costly.

With comical defending, relentless attacking and a moment of two of sheer madness, match number 10 ranked highly - for my first major milestone, it was a suitable celebration of the game I was attempting to chronicle.

Shinnik Yaroslavl 1-3 Rotor Volgograd

Scorers: Eldar Nizamutdinov (10); Andrei Mikheev (3), Ruslan Valeev (46), Alexei Pugin (75)

Attendance: 2341

Teams Seen: 19

Goals Seen: 20

[EvilDave]

4th September 2013

Match #11

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Zapad’

Stadion Tekstilshchik

Tekstilshchik Ivanovo vs Spartak Kostroma

The journey: From the beauty and history of the Golden Ring to, well, Ivanovo. Perhaps that is a little harsh on the old Soviet city - I managed to at least overlook the monstrous tyre factory on the outskirts of Yaroslavl - but the raw truth is that Ivanovo, like so many of the old one-industry towns and cities that litter the vast landscape, is on its last legs.

A few hours in the city make it easy to see why. There is very little to bring people here to visit, few institutions of prestige to attract people to stay, and meanwhile the bright lights of Yaroslavl and even brighter lights of Moscow lie within reach, drawing away the city’s sharpest minds to study, work and spend their money elsewhere. Here, as across the country, the population is ageing and declining, and nobody seems to know how to help.

It is just as well then, that my stay will be brief. Both this and my next stops will be short and sweet, acting as jumping-off points for the next great city on my route from West to East. However, as long as the city has a football team and they happen to be playing, I am interested enough to at least pay a visit out of courtesy.

The match: Local side Tekstilshchik were once a decent outfit, competing on a national level several times throughout their history. However, much like the city itself, modern times have proven to be harder times, and so for the time being they seem content to paddle in the upper reaches of their regional league, occasionally threatening promotion but little more.

Visitors Spartak Kostroma may bring a famous moniker, but they are even less ambitious, most likely satisfied with survival at this level. Even if they were to be promoted, the cost of nationwide travel would probably be far too great for a side from what is a sleepy yet picturesque dome-topped town from within the boundaries of the Golden Ring. Until recently, Kostroma boasted two professional outfits. Now, with Dinamo down in the amateur ranks, Spartak are left to carry an historic but largely insignificant flag.

With two sides so decidedly unambitious, and with little appeal of either city drawing the finest talent to their teams, it was perhaps not surprising that the match that unfolded before me was a distinct step down from the end-to-end game I witnessed in Yaroslavl. Between them, the two teams registered just five shots on goal, three of which found the target, and one of which found the net.

It was a defender, Denis Fomin, who nodded in the all-important goal, glancing in a corner at the near post midway through the first half. It was enough to leave the home fans celebrating at the final whistle, at which point I made a quick exit from the stadium. My next destination was unlikely to rekindle the romance in me, but I had little desire to stick around in Ivanovo.

Tekstilshchik Ivanovo 1-0 Spartak Kostroma

Scorers: Denis Fomin (32)

Attendance: 1359

Teams Seen: 21

Goals Seen: 21

[EvilDave]

7th September 2013

Match #12

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Khimik

Khimik Dzerzhinsk vs Torpedo Moscow

The journey: For this particular trip between two unremarkable cities some 250km apart, I was once again at the mercy of the post-Soviet bus system, which has changed little in the last 30 years aside from a few name changes to the destinations. Mercifully, this journey lasted a mere five hours, and for the second half of the ride we were within spitting distance of the majestic Volga river, that great waterway which flows from Baltic to Caspian and is as storied as Russia itself.

My travels would take me to Dzerzhinsk - not a city I had hoped to travel to, but with the absence of a suitable match in Nizhny Novgorod, I was forced to look for alternatives. Formerly closed to foreigners, it was not a place I intended stay for very long - for my own health as much as the complete lack of appeal.

For decades, Dzerzhinsk was the centre of Soviet chemical production. For industry, agriculture and weaponry alike, the fertilisers, pesticides and poisons were all produced in this 250,000-strong city, and with the USSR’s track record on pollution less than stellar, the inhabitants are still suffering the consequences. Life expectancy for local men has been recorded as low as 42, around 2.5 people die for every birth, and even the local water supply can wreak havoc with your internal organs. For no reason other than football would you visit Dzerzhinsk, and not all that many people bother with that.

The match: Yet for football it was that I came, and the fixture list afforded me a third meeting of the season with the side it all started with - Torpedo Moscow. Victorious in my first match and proud participants in my first goalless draw, the old club had settled calmly into midtable in the country’s second tier, and were beginning to look like they belonged.

Home side Khimik, on the other hand, had started well very indeed, sitting in fifth place in the early standings. Newly-promoted and an unknown quantity in the division, their stubborn defence and efficient finishing had drawn them many plaudits - although few really believed they would last the pace and compete for promotion.

Yet if they could combine those two crucial quality for the remainder of the season, they would almost certainly be in the race come May, and they were on show for me today. The deadlock was broken surprisingly by full-back Vitali Chochiev, whose overlapping run was simply not followed by his visiting counterpart midway through the first half, and Chochiev himself then played a key role in repelling Torpedo’s response. In the second half, Khimik fired just three more shots at the Torpedo goal, but the third one found its target, Oleg Makeev’s angled drive bouncing in off the woodwork, and so his side claimed another three points to add to their growing collection.

I left Dzerzhinsk the very next morning - you can taste the pollution in the air as you walk the streets - but a small part of me wished their developing football team every success. From my brief visit, I could only conclude that its citizens needed some small means of escape from their poisoned existence.

Khimik Dzerzhinsk 2-0 Torpedo Moscow

Scorers: Vitali Chochiev (27), Oleg Makeev (85)

Attendance: 3152

Teams Seen: 22

Goals Seen: 23

[neilhoskins77]

The research that must have gone into this story is immense. Great work EvilDave. Really good read.

[WLKRAS]

Incidentally, Dzerzhinsk is named after the first chairman of the Cheka (which turned into the NKVD, which turned into the KGB), Felix Dzerzhinsky

[EvilDave]

Incidentally, Dzerzhinsk is named after the first chairman of the Cheka (which turned into the NKVD, which turned into the KGB), Felix Dzerzhinsky

Indeed, despite having his Moscow statue taken down Iron Felix seems to have gotten away with most of what he got up to in the Soviet days. Most towns and cities have a 'raion' - which I guess roughly translates as a quarter or estate, named after him too. Popular guy!

Also, thanks Neil - I am something of a Russophile, having studied the language and lived there for a year, so the research was all part of the fun!

--

19th September 2013

Match #13

Europa League Group D

Kazan Arena

Rubin Kazan vs Club Brugge

The journey: Kazan. Although Novosibirsk might have a thing or two to say about it, I would consider the Tatar capital to be Russia’s third great city, irrespective of population and how many government institutions happen to be located therein. If St Petersburg is Russia’s take on Europe, and Moscow is Russia’s take on itself, then Kazan is almost certainly Russia’s take on Asia, although with limited input from too many ethnic Russians. Tatarstan has one of the highest levels of autonomy of any Russian region, and a few minutes in the capital makes it very clear.

Here, the skies are not pierced by the traditional onion domes of Orthodoxy, but by the minarets of Islam. Street signs give two names rather than one - Tatar given equal footing with Russian - and even the atmosphere in the city centre differs noticeably from the equivalent sensation in Moscow. Kazan is the first city outside of the two capitals for which identity is no longer a problem, which takes pride in itself and which makes no apologies for any difference. It is unashamedly Tatar, and unashamedly not Russian.

Yes, there are Russian influences on every street - anywhere just a few hundred miles from Moscow cannot escape its reach - but the focus is more exotic, the outlook more Asian. With the skyscape dominated by the lavish Kol Sharif mosque and cultural Isam seeping out of every coffee house, it is easy to imagine yourself in Uzbekistan than Russia.

And yet all of this is just a mere seven hour bus journey - the train was available, but is so heavily diverted it would have taken 18 hours - from Dzerzhinsk, a belching factory city which bears all the hallmarks of a decaying Soviet past. Kazan, different and distinctive, is the complete opposite. I arrived more than a week in advance of the match, and thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

The match: I had not anticipated European football on my travels, but when Rubin’s participation in the Europa League was confirmed, the group fixtures fell almost perfectly into place. The two-time Russian champions were placed in a group with Valencia, Slovenian outsiders Zilina, and Belgian outfit Club Brugge, who were in town to coincide with my own arrival.

In the league, Rubin were off to a good start, and having already watched them beat Lokomotiv in Moscow I was hopeful of more excellent football. The impressive pair of M’Vila and Eremenko started once again in central midfield with the experience of Karadeniz and pace of Alan Kasaev ahead of them, and as the fans began to filter into the brand new 45,000-seater Kazan Arena - built for both the World Cup and recent Universiade - there was an air of expectation about the place.

Even they could not have anticipated the start we saw from Rubin. Inside five minutes, young centre-back Taras Burlak got the jump on his marker to head home Eremenko’s free-kick, and after a further five the lead was 2-0. This time, it was the veteran Karadeniz who did the damage, jinking free of his marker on the right side of the penalty area before placing a shot through the legs of the Belgian goalkeeper at his near post. The impressive new stadium may have been less than a quarter full, but it was certainly noisey.

But what followed was most unlike Rubin. Their title wins, successful European runs, and indeed decade of competing at the top table, has been built on sturdy defence and uncompromising solidity at the back. However, when the previously impressive M’Vila earned himself a straight red card for a reckless challenge in the centre circle five minutes before the break, the famed organisation fell to pieces.

It took two minutes for the visitors to net, de Bondt ghosting in unmarked to beat Sergei Ryzhikov, and nine more in the second period for Erik Sabbe to repeat the trick and level the scores. In truth, it was only due to some impressive stops from Ryzhikov that the match ended 2-2 - Rubin’s defence proving conspicuously absent on a number of occasions - and so the final whistle brought mixed emotions to the assembled crowd. A point was better than none, and it could so easily have been none, but 2-0 up at home should provide so much more. A strange result, but a thoroughly entertaining game nonetheless.

Rubin Kazan 2-2 Club Brugge

Scorers: Taras Burlak (4), Gokdeniz Karadeniz (10); Florentin de Bondt (42), Erik Sabbe (54)

Attendance: 8632

Teams Seen: 24

Goals Seen: 27

[EvilDave]

25th September 2013

Match #14

Prem’er Liga

Stadion Zvezda

Amkar Perm vs Ural Ekaterinburg

The journey: Between Kazan and Perm lies around 450 miles, a rail journey of around eight hours, and what seems to be several worlds of culture. On the one hand, Kazan and Tatarstan feels like Central Asia transplanted into European Russia. On the other, Perm and the wider region feels like the fringes of Siberia. The difference is marked.

Whereas Kazan is the seat of moderate Islam and religio-cultural tolerance, Perm carries with an association of grizzly murders and the gulag. One of the Soviet regime’s most notorious ‘correction’ facilities was based on the outskirts of the city, and today a group has taken over with the aim of preserving the legacy for future generations. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Russian government is not always pleased with their activities, not least when on-site festivals attract the sort of dissidents that would once find themselves inside the camps.

Yet Perm is not truly Siberia, and geographically is not even in Asia, lying as perhaps the last major city west of the towering Ural mountains. Still, for citizens of a certain age, the name generates the same shudders as the word ‘Lubyanka,’ that famous Moscow stronghold of the secret police which to this day causes people to fall silent as they pass by. Its history, uncensored, is morbidly fascinating, and to ignore it would be a disservice to those who suffered before.

The match: The local side, Amkar, have good pedigree in the top flight. One-time Europa League contestants, they have carved out a niche as midtable makeweights for a number of years, occasionally having to dig themselves out of a relegation dogfight but mostly hovering around lower midtable. This year, at least so far, seems little different.

Opponents Ural - at 250 miles east providing one of the closest things to a derby that Amkar play - on the other hand, are typical relegation battlers, attempting to remain in the top flight by virtue of hard work and the occasional spark of inspiration - in their case from Chilean midfielder Gerson Acevedo and enigmatic Armenian Edgar Manucharyan - to cash in the goals when needed.

On this warm September evening, Manucharyan had to make do with a spot on the bench as he returned from injury, while Amkar were far too preoccupied with hitting long balls to the sizeable target of Martin Jakubko to really think about trying to play anything resembling football. Neither side looked particularly likely to score, and with the two teams keen to keep their sheets clean, both seemed to settle for the goalless draw that seemed inevitable after the opening 15 minutes.

It was not a game for the neutral - something I am slowly learning to become despite my natural tendency to will on the home team - and not one I will recall particularly fondly over the coming months. Sean would have appreciated me coming, but he would not have enjoyed the dire excuse for a spectacle. Still, if I were to fulfill The Plan, I could not be overly selective.

Amkar Perm 0-0 Ural Ekaterinburg

Scorers: None

Attendance: 11858

Teams Seen: 24

Goals Seen: 27

[EvilDave]

29th September 2013

Match #15

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Vostok’

Stadion Krasnaya Zvezda

Irtysh Omsk vs Radian-Baikal Irkutsk

The journey: At this point, the journeys begin to take a little longer. Having endured a number of lengthy bus rides on my travels so far, the train seemed something of a luxury as we rolled from Perm to Omsk, but it was not without its sacrifices. Whereas a point-to-point car journey would take around 12 hours, the equivalent passage by rail takes the best part of a whole day - meaning I battled with the extreme heat and stiff bunk of the cabin as I tried in vain to sleep.

My failure to win that particular battle did, however, mean I was able to sample Siberia for the first time. Passing through the Eurasian border city of Ekaterinburg meant that for the first time the tundra and taiga of the vast Siberian landscape came into few, and while I was a little saddened by my failure to reach the site of the Romanovs’ grizzly murder, I was enthused by the chance to step into the semi-mystical world of the cold, sparsely-populated horizons.

Omsk, however, is no peasant village. With more than a million citizens it is a fully-functioning political, industrial and indeed sporting settlement, and is proud of being so. However, Omsk’s interest in football is far from deep - this Siberian fortress is a hockey town, with local side Avangard claiming amongst their alumni the considerable talent of Czech NHL star Jaromir Jagr.

Still, with a curious blend of classical Russian and brutalist Soviet architecture, an emergent middle class catered to by a growing leisure industry, and a temperature dropping to the edge of comfortable, Omsk was somewhere that piqued my interest for much longer than some of the other regional cities I had seen thus far.

The match: On a footballing level, Omsk are far behind their hockey-playing counterparts. Irtysh, having once or twice made forays into the national leagues, are once again in the third tier, their Eastern region by far the largest of the five and encompassing journeys of thousands of miles to the likes of Komsomolsk on the Amur river and Sakhalin above the northern tip of Japan. It is easy to see why sides from these parts struggle to make progress.

Irtysh’s style, in this match at least, is direct. Midfield is very much a concept as defenders launch long balls to their front two, a little-and-large partnership straight out of the English lower leagues. To their credit, the tactic acknowledges two crucial facts - the pitch at Krasnaya Zvezda is abysmal, rendering a passing game all but impossible, and both full-backs possess unerring accuracy with their forward passes.

Evidence of the first came quickly as visiting Radian-Baikal tried and failed spectacularly to zip the ball round on the agricultural surface. The second was shown almost as quickly and with brutal efficiency - a pass from centre-back to right-back, an arrowed diagonal ball onto the head of one forward, and a first-touch half-volley rifled into the back of the net from his partner Bagaev. The 800 fans seemed very pleased, and there was more to come.

The match itself was no great spectacle, but the consistency of the full-backs’ ranging passes were something to behold. Just before the break, the same move produced the same result, and while this time Bagaev opted to dribble a little closer to goal before firing home, the effect was the same. Radian-Baikal had no response, Irtysh had no need for a third, and the second half fizzled out undramatically. The match did pose a challenge to my own ideals, however - was the fast-paced passing game always the right option? According to one team at least, one alternative proved far superior.

Irtysh Omsk 2-0 Radian-Baikal Irkutsk

Scorers: Anton Bagaev (7, 39)

Attendance: 810

Teams Seen: 26

Goals Seen: 29

[EvilDave]

4th October 2013

Match #16

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Spartak

Sibir Novosibirsk vs Khimik Dzerzhinsk

The journey: If Omsk represents perhaps the first major city in Siberia, Novosibirsk is its undoubted capital. One of the many cities to claim the title of Russia’s third - behind the undisputed top two of Moscow and St Petersburg - Novosibirsk is a thriving metropolis in the harshest of surroundings, a beacon of civilisation on the banks of the River Ob that has grown and grown into an important centre away from the traditional powerhouses.

My journey from Omsk took just eight hours on the train, and as I gazed out of the window it became apparent that we were most definitely in Siberia. Away from the foothills of the Ural mountains, the landscape stretches out seemingly forever, snow already covering some of the cold ground and masking what little civilisation we passed. Winter is technically a month away, but already the temperature is dropping.

Inhospitable climate aside, there is much to admire about Novosibirsk. It functions as any major city should - pleasant, walkable streets in addition to the more functional passageways of the inner city, a sprawl somewhat subdued by the Russian tendency to high-rise blocks, and numerous green, open spaces for leisure and enjoyment. It may not be as beautiful as Yaroslavl or as distinctive as Kazan, but as a place to visit and even live, it rates highly.

The match: Sibir may have provided one of Russian football’s unlikely fairytale stories - reaching the cup final in 2010, a match which whilst ending in defeat resulted in a Europa League clash with PSV Eindhoven, a famous 1-0 home win and then a crushing 5-0 away loss - today they are a shadow of side which lost to Zenit in the showpiece encounter. Relegated to the second tier and losing the fight for fans to the hockey team of the same name, the club seem to be on a downward trajectory.

It was hard to judge how well they play their football, however, due to the howling winds which swirled around Spartak for their clash with my old friends from Dzerzhinsk. Once or twice the ball had to be retrieved for set plays as gusts moved even grounded objects, and as a result any hopes of crossing the ball or even launching long passes were quickly dashed.

Accordingly, the goal was somewhat lacking in quality, neither side particularly well suited to the ground game imposed by the conditions. The sole moment of sustained quality - a seven-pass move from back to front - resulted in the only goal of the game for three-time Russian international Roman Adamov, and the depleted crowd seemed happy enough.

Adamov did bring about a second flashpoint when he saw red for a flailing elbow in the dying moment - shortly after shanking a shot horribly wide of goal - but even with the numerical disadvantage Sibir remained comfortable and content to play out time. Not the best game I have watched so far, but certainly a lesson in how the weather can affect the spectacle. I only hoped the last month of the pre-winter schedule wasn’t all this bad as I continued eastwards.

Sibir Novosibirsk 1-0 Khimik Dzerzhinsk

Scorers: Roman Adamov (25)

Attendance: 3223

Teams Seen: 27

Goals Seen: 30

[EvilDave]

7th October 2013

Match #17

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Tsentralnyi Stadion

Yenisei Krasnoyarsk vs Alania Vladikavkaz

The journey: Another train journey, another night of poor sleep on the Russian railways. From Novosibirsk to Krasnoyarsk takes 13 hours across a mixture of taiga and tundra, and the scale of nothingness to which you are exposed en route seems to warp both distance and time. The vistas are both stunning and empty, the towns and villages along the way increasingly stereotypical of Siberian myth, and the train as painfully slow as any outside of Moscow.

Yet Krasnoyarsk itself is a gem in the this wintery desert, a gem recognised by no less than Anton Chekhov, the great wordsmith labelling it the most beautiful city in Siberia. From an hour outside the city itself, the natural world seemed to come alive with awe-inspiring panorama, and even the more barren sections of the trip seemed a little more enjoyable than before.

Today, the city is a something of a rival to Novosibirsk, and is growing in industry, education and finance. The wide Yenisei river rushes through the city, creating numerous islands in the middle of the city, while all around the inhabitants are surrounded by the natural world. Mountains, cliffs, crags and forest - for the adventurous spirit, Krasnoyarsk is the perfect base. For the traveller journeying on from Novosibirsk, it is undoubtedly more beautiful. For the wandering soul looking to make a home, only its climate detracts from its many attractions.

The match: Krasnoyarsk’s football team have adopted the moniker of the river which flows near the Tsentralnyi stadium, and are one of only a handful of eastern teams to cement themselves in the second tier. Promotion into the Prem’er Liga seems out of reach, but consolidation is a reasonable aim. Conversely, for visiting Alania - national champions back in 1995 - anything less than a return to the top table is unacceptable, as their current third place belies.

The side from North Ossetia have struggled financially, but the talent they can field remains a cut above the selection offered by Yenisei. From the outset the home side set themselves out in a defensive formation, clearly happy to take a point from the pre-season title favourites. Yet, as time grew on, so the red and blue shirts of the hosts began to grow in confidence, penning Alania into their defensive third for long portions of the first half.

Just two minutes into the second half, their hard work came undone in the cruellest of circumstances. An unfortunate full-back slipped when attempting to play the ball back home, and Georgian forward Otar Martsvaladze pounced with glee. One touch brought the ball under control, a second dummied the helpless goalkeeper, and the third rolled it calmly into the empty net.

That led to further pressure from the visitors, and the Georgian striker was denied a headed second only by a dubious offside call from the linesman on the far side of the field. Yenisei’s players could not be faulted for effort, but ultimately their ability came up just short. Surprisingly, their fans seemed to understand, applauding their heroes off the field generously. It was warming to see on such a cold October evening.

Yenisei Krasnoyarsk 0-1 Alania Vladikavkaz

Scorers: Otar Martsvaladze (47)

Attendance: 3187

Teams Seen: 29

Goals Seen: 31

[EvilDave]

20th October 2013

Match #18

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Vostok’

Stadion Metallurg

Sibiryak Bratsk vs FK Chita

The journey: With almost two weeks between my next matches, I was in no rush to leave Krasnoyarsk. On something of a whim, I booked a bed in a cabin in the forest, and spent four days enjoying the wilderness of the Stolby national park with nothing but my own thoughts for company - a refreshing experience if not a little cold. The city zoo proved another day’s excitement, although the condition of some of the more exotic creatures left much to be desired.

From the beauty of Krasnoyarsk I was heading eastwards to the Angara river, enduring another overnight train to the riverside city of Bratsk. The towns on the way - Targiz, Turma, Yurty - sounded a little more Asiatic than some I had passed previously, but alongside other, typically Russian-sounding settlements - Kamensk, Rybinsk, Vikhorevka - and the frosty world outside my mercifully heated cabin made it evident that we were still very much in SIberia.

Bratsk itself is a trip back in time to the industrial majesty of the Soviet Union. Once a humble village, a call to resettle Siberia - and in particular to build the world’s largest hydroelectric dam - led to Bratsk becoming a boom town as young enthusiasts attempted to channel the power of the Angara. Channel it they did - the dam remains the central attraction of the city - but the remainder of the city is barely worth mentioning. Natural beauty is restricted to the now-mechanised Angara and there is little of interest elsewhere. Unlike Krasnoyarsk, I will not be staying for long.

The match: The local team, Sibiryak, are one of approximately half the eastern division with realistic hopes of promotion. The club, boasting an impressive bear as its badge and mascot, are not amongst the favourites, but at this stage lie second - just a single position away from the elusive promotion place.

They have got there on the back of a shaky defence and free-scoring attack, which was one of the reasons I was pleased to be able to see them in action. I was not disappointed by their clash with Chita, and two goals in the opening 10 minutes - a curling free kick from the hosts and a powerful header from the visitors - showed both sides of Sibiryak’s coin.

On the half hour Sibiryak again took the lead, a defence-splitting pass latched onto and calmly finished by Artem Kozlov, and that was how it remained until the break. The second half saw more of the same - both teams pushing and pushing for more goals with little regard to defending - and it was something of a surprise that the fourth goal took so long.

When it did, it settled things. Kozlov was again involved in the build-up, his pass leading to the cross which opening scorer Tikhomerov deftly diverted beyond the Chita goalkeeper to make it 3-1. As some fans began to shuffle out of the stands, there was one final twist in the tale - Chita’s Almaz Fatikhov grabbing his second of the game with a poached effort - but irrespective of the result I was just happy with a handful of goals and two teams willing to attack. With that in mind, I was more excited than I had expected about my next destination.

Sibiryak Bratsk 3-2 FK Chita

Scorers: Vladimir Tikhomerov (6, 83), Anton Kozlov (29); Almaz Fatikhov (8, 90)

Attendance: 624

Teams Seen: 31

Goals Seen: 36

[EvilDave]

27th October 2013

Match #19

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Vostok’

Stadion Lokomotiv

FK Chita vs Radian-Baikal Irkutsk

The journey: Logically, the next step from Bratsk would be Irkutsk on the banks of Lake Baikal, or even Ulan-Ude, the famous stop on the Trans-Siberian. However, with no suitable game in the former and no professional outfit in the latter, I was instead heading onwards to Chita - the home of the team I had just seen play a game of basketball with Sibiryak Bratsk.

By skipping two of the major checkpoints on the Trans-Siberian, I was in for a long journey. In total, my train took 39 hours, heading back briefly west to Taishet before turning South-East to Irkutsk, traversing the southern tip of Lake Baikal and then passing less than 100 miles north of the Mongolian border on to Chita. With such a long, slow journey I had ample time to think, read and even sleep, and I arrived feeling surprisingly refreshed in the early evening.

Chita itself is no outstanding beauty of a city, but it is an interesting one. The punishment of choice for the famous revolutionary Decembrists, the ‘City of Exile’ is an eastern melting pot of culture. Once the capital of the Far Eastern region, Mongolian, Chinese and Japanese all once mixed with Russian and Central Asian locals in its streets and markets. Despite being a closed city for much of the Soviet period - largely due to its proximity to China - such diversity continued to flourish.

Thus the Chita of today, somewhat less significant than in years gone by, is still one of the most diverse in the Russian East. Japanese architecture hosts Sino-Russian business, Mongolian children play with Korean immigrants in courtyards, and local cuisine is a strange mix of those from across Asia. For the tourist, Chita holds little but passage along the railway. For anyone with a wider interest in Russia, there is plenty to intrigue and provoke curiosity.

The match: It seems to me that the entire East division is goal-obsessed. The quality of play may not be the highest, but the majority of the teams I have seen so far have all seemed to forego the defensive side of the arts in exchange of extra attacking potency. I have seen four of the eight teams in the league, four of them twice after today, and only once has there been a clean sheet.

Today’s defensive efforts were spoiled after just 10 minutes, Almaz Fatikhov seeing his low shot deflected past the visiting goalkeeper and rolling unobstructed into the bottom corner. As he wheeled away towards the corner flag, it seemed as if Chita’s attacking prowess - which had been their undoing in Bratsk - was to bring them three points today.

But on a bitterly cold Sunday afternoon, the visitors from Irkutsk were not about to roll over. Despite hovering in the middle of the smallest professional division in Russia, they have the second highest goal tally in their league, and on the stroke of half-time their forays forward brought a reward. A clever one-two on the edge of the penalty area released Pavel Garannikov, and his angled effort clipped the underside of the bar on its way in.

In the second half, they continued to press, and ultimately claimed the points. Not long after the hour another quick passing interchange saw Garannikov tripped inside the area, and Alexei Nekrasov stepped up to blast home the resulting penalty. Five minutes later, the same man was more fortunate, his attempted header actually bouncing off his shoulder and in, and the result was beyond doubt.

What I enjoyed was that Chita, despite conceding three for a second time in a week, did not relent for their own attacks. Twice they forced saves from the Irkutsk keeper, and twice more they could have conceded a fourth. By the final whistle, this far-flung corner of Russia had become synonymous with the all-guns-blazing style of football that Sean so admired in his teams. Had he been here, he would have been thrilled.

FK Chita 1-3 Radian-Baikal Irkutsk

Scorers: Almaz Fatikhov (10); Pavel Garannikov (43), Alexei Nekrasov (66, 71)

Attendance: 1806

Teams Seen: 31

Goals Seen: 40

[EvilDave]

3rd November 2013

Match #20

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Vostok’

Stadion Amur

Amur-2010 Blagoveshchensk vs FK Sakhalin

The journey: As much as I had enjoyed my time in Chita - footballing and otherwise - I had to make an early escape the morning after the game. To my next destination, I had another 40 hours ahead of me, including a change of trains on the windswept platform of Belogorsk.

Whilst my last journey took me parallel to the Mongolian border, this trip carried around the northern tip of China - the Manchurian territory which was so famously occupied by Japan prior to the Second World War - and then further south as the border turned with us. What little I saw of Belogorsk was thoroughly uninspiring, yet arriving in Blagoveshchensk it became apparent just how close I was to China.

At night, the glittering lights of China’s Heihe are visible from any balcony, just a stone’s throw over the flowing waters of the Amur. The Chinese influence, forged over years of border skirmish, migrant work, intermarriage and business opportunism, has filtered down into every aspect of life in the city - from the large number of distinctly non-Slavic faces to the style of buildings and numerous Chinese restaurants. Much like Chita, from a purely touristic perspective the city is not worth the diversion from the Trans-Siberian, but in its own right has plenty to offer.

The match: On paper, this should have been one of the more one-sided of the matches, I have witnessed thus far. Visiting the Chinese border were Sakhalin, the team based on the island just off the Russian and Japanese coasts, and who for the first time looked like putting up a real flight for promotion and the chance to ruin travel plans for everyone in the second tier. The home team, Amur-2010, have existed for just three years after the old Amur club dissolved, and found themselves struggling at the wrong end of the table.

Had both clubs employed the ‘attack at all costs’ strategy of Chita, this would have ended 8-1 to the visitors. As it happened, Amur were far too sensible for that, their team of youngsters evidently realised that to over-commit in the final third would leave them exposed in defence, and so instead sat deeper, waiting for their opponents to make the same mistake and take advantage of the gaps.

This would have been successful were it not for the skill and experience of Sergei Vinogradov, the division’s leading scorer. After around 20 minutes of play,the laid off the ball back into midfield, made an untracked run between two defenders, collected a beautifully-weighted pass in return and finished well into the top corner. Five minutes after the break, with Amur penned back almost into their own penalty area, he turned his man before unleashing a rocket of a shot which flew past the home goalkeeper before he could move. There would be no way back from here.

Like Amkar on their trip to CSKA back in August, Amur did not offer a great deal in return. Any possession was soon broken up by the Sakhalin midfield schemers, and their attempt at a direct style was hindered by their wayward passing. There was one comical consolation - an aimless punt forward skipping off the turf, over the head of a defender and into the path of an almost embarrassed Amur forward - but in the 89th minute it meant very little. The better team had won and won comfortably, and that caused a certain satisfaction as I left.

Amur-2010 Blagoveshchensk 1-2 FK Sakhalin

Scorers: Soslan Revazov (89); Sergei Vinogradov (22, 47)

Attendance: 1238

Teams Seen: 33

Goals Seen: 43

[EvilDave]

8th November 2013

Match #21

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Lenina

SKA-Energia Khabarovsk vs Torpedo Moscow

The journey: During the 13 hours I spent on the train between Blagoveshchensk and Khabarovsk, winter arrived. Thankfully, I had rejoined the Trans-Siberian at Belogorsk, meaning the heating on board was more than adequate, but I would not have enjoyed being outside without a hefty coat. As the snow fell, so we continued along the Sino-Russian border, and so the temperature continued to drop - the station thermometer in Khabarovsk read -8, and it felt even colder.

As a city, Khabarovsk and Blagoveshchensk are similar in that both are clearly influenced by their proximity to nearby China. Stretching for several miles along the banks of the Amur, in warmer months the river would no doubt provide a most pleasant walk for most of the day. In the snow, I could endure only a couple of hours before retreating into one of the many cafés along the riverbank.

For many, Khabarovsk is the final stop on the line before Vladivostok, and the bragging rights that come with having completed the Trans-Siberian route. For me, this city of professional speed skaters, Chinese businesspeople and military development was not the penultimate stop but just one of many - and one which had merit in its own right.

The match: For the fourth time on my travels, I came across Torpedo Moscow, which must surely have made me one of their superfans - there cannot be too many who travel as far as Khabarovsk in support of a second tier team. However, it was not Torpedo who attracted my attention, but SKA-Energia and their imaginatively-named Lenin Stadium.

The red and blue striped shirts of Khabarovsk played a breed of football I had not yet seen in the eastern reach of Russia - patient passing combined with a ferociously aggressive press - and indeed one rarely attempted outside of the European elite. There were holes in their play - the veteran Boyarinstev almost exploited one as early as the third minute - but it made what could have been an unremarkable game very interesting.

SKA’s relentless pressure did not take that long to yield results. Half an hour in, Torpedo coughed up possession in their own half, and within four touches the ball was in the penalty area. The ball in from wide was low and drive, and Vasili Karmazinenko was alert to drift between two static defenders and slot home the loose ball. Five minutes later, the same man doubled the advantage, this time winning the ball himself before heading in a deeper, curling cross. Two goals up at half-time, things looked very comfortable for the unorthodox hosts.

The second half saw them ease off their pressing - a decision perhaps based on fitness as much as their two-goal lead - but even in the face of reduced pressure Torpedo were still unable to get a foothold in the match. Defender Ivan Novoseltsev’s red card with 20 minutes to go effectively ended the match as a contest, and SKA recorded an impressive victory with the minimum of fuss. Looking at the table later that day, I wondered how they were only 9th in the league.

SKA-Energia Khabarovsk 2-0 Torpedo Moscow

Scorers: Vasili Karmazinenko (32, 37)

Attendance: 910

Teams Seen: 34

Goals Seen: 45

[EvilDave]

11th November 2013

Match #22

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Dinamo

Luch-Energia Vladivostok vs FK Ufa

The journey: Winter had arrived during my time in Khabarovsk, and by the time I reached the Pacific Ocean at Vladivostok, it was bedded in and not about to leave. I had just two full days to make the half-day journey between the last two major stops of the Trans-Siberian, and when the train was delayed for some four hours because of the heavy snow, I began to worry, even calculating the cost of a taxi. Thankfully for both my heart and my wallet, Russians are used to dealing with poor weather.

The wind off the sea and a temperature two figures below zero meant my leather coat, fur-lined and freshly bought in Khabarovsk, was essential to getting around what was once another of the Soviet Union’s closed cities. Not far from the Chinese border, only a little further from North Korea and with its port providing easy access to Japan, a strong Asian influence was evident in what little of the city I did see - although the weather resulted in me spending a little longer in my hostel than I had otherwise intended.

Mercifully, the extra time with Wi-Fi access did mean that the next stage of my journey would take an interesting twist - one which would hopefully bring yet another cultural experience and footballing style to my travels…

The match: Back in the second tier once again, the fixture list had done me a favour by throwing up two teams I had yet to witness, and one from a city I was unlikely to be able to visit. Luch-Energia were comfortable in midtable but unlikely to make a return to the Prem’er Liga where they once dwelled, while Ufa, making the long journey from Bashkortostan, were fighting for survival in the second division. They had been brought there by none other than Andre Kanchelskis, but his departure had left the Bashkirs firmly in the lurch.

With temperatures well below freezing and fans in the stand few and far between, it was little surprise that those of us who braved the conditions did not see a repeat of the goal-filled thrillers I have witnessed elsewhere. This was attritional football, trench warfare replicated on the pitch, and neither side was willing to lose after putting themselves through such awful weather.

The lack of goalmouth action did not result in a goalless draw however, to the delight of the frozen fans. Ten minutes before the break a corner swirled in the wind, bounced in the area, and in the ensuing melee was turned home by Ruslan Koryan to give the hosts a lead they barely deserved. Shortly after the break, Ufa squared the game when top scorer Dmitri Golubov converted from the penalty spot, and at that both sides seemed happy to take the point rather than risk injury in the conditions. They could not be blamed.

Originally, I had planned Vladivostok to be the turning point of my travels. However, with one more round of fixtures before the winter break and a new opportunity seemingly there for the taking, I made for my hostel with haste. It would make a big hole in the budget, but Sean had supplied me well, and I could not imagine him turning down such a chance…

Luch-Energia Vladivostok 1-1 FK Ufa

Scorers: Ruslan Koryan (37); Dmitri Golubov (50)

Attendance: 1711

Teams Seen: 36

Goals Seen: 47

[EvilDave]

14th November 2013

Match #23

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Vostok’

Stadion Spartak

FK Sakhalin vs Amur-2010 Blagoveshchensk

The journey: This would be the final match of my travels before the long winter break - the season resumed again in March - and I had already arranged to spend the time between with old family friends in Japan. The Richards family had moved out to do missionary work some 15 years ago, and I was ashamed to say it was my first visit to see them in Nagasaki. They had been delighted to hear of my coming, and the prospect of several weeks in their company was highly appealing.

But to even get here, I had cleared several hurdles. From the Monday evening match I returned to my hostel, collected my belongings and immediately hired a taxi to the central bus station. There would be just two buses that night - one for Khabarovsk and a second for the little-known town of Vanino, some 800 miles away. I made it in the nick of time, took a seat in the minibus along with just two fellow travellers, and we were off. In theory, that was the easiest part.

We followed the Amur north past Khabarovsk before continuing towards the Pacific, arriving in our frozen destination some 17 hours after departure. From there it was a race to the harbour, and sheer ecstasy - the very boat my landlord in Vladivostok had told me about was bobbing in the dock. However, there was no hint of an owner or an imminent departure, so I decided to loiter nearby - any owner worth his salt would find me suspicious and come to investigate.

Thankfully, the ploy worked and within minutes I was confronted with a burly tattooed Russian. I needed to get to Sakhalin, I explained, and Vadim had told me he could help. At Vadim’s name his frown turned into a smile, and he gestured me aboard. Three hours later, we docked on the island of Sakhalin.

My captain’s name was Valeri, and he and Vadim were old naval conscripts. They stayed in touch, almost as brothers, and a friend of Vadim was a friend of Valeri. That meant vodka, and in copious amounts, and so the remainder of my onward journey to the island’s capital of Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk was made in something of a drunken haze. Still, I made it to my hotel for the night, and that was all that mattered.

Chekhov once described Sakhalin as hell on earth - although admittedly he was studying prison conditions - and in truth the island has few attractive qualities. The weather is harsh, particularly in mid-November, any coastal beauty is drowned out by the countless oil rigs and gas extractions scattered around the island. For a traveller, however, the sheer novelty and elusiveness of the place was enough to satisfy - and the knowledge that Sean would almost certainly have wanted me to be here.

The match: If Sakhalin itself was grey and uninspiring, the high-flying football team were painting a very different picture. Winners by two goals to one against Amur in the away game, they welcomed the Blagoveshchensk side onto the island and simply blew them away. I had been enamoured with Sergei Vinogradov on the mainland, but on his island home he was simply irresistible.

I watched one with a few hundred hardy souls as the unheralded maestro claimed the perfect hat-trick - a flicked header into the bottom corner, a more fortunate left-footed strike which was scuffed into the opposite side of the net, and a ferocious right-footed effort from 20 yards which made the net bulge for the final time with 10 minutes to play.

Not content with three goals, he also had a hand in one of the other two scored his side, a clever reverse ball playing in Andrei Klimenko to make it 3-0 just seconds before half-time. The other goal came from winger Aleksandr Gagloev on the hour mark, and only a number of saves from Amur’s exposed goalkeeper prevented the score running into double figures.

Vinogradov and his colleagues were on top form, and their home record was impeccable - just a single point dropped more than halfway through the season - but in truth Amur’s weaknesses were just as important. Half of the team were still teenagers, unused to such harsh conditions, and their defensive discipline was almost non-existent. Nevertheless, to come to Sakhalin and be treated to five goals and an attacking masterclass was more than I could have wished for - even if Amur’s poor display did generate more than a little sympathy.

FK Sakhalin 5-0 Amur-2010 Blagoveshchensk

Scorers: Sergei Vinogradov (11, 13, 80); Andrei Klimenko (44), Aleksandr Gagloev (60)

Attendance: 623

Teams Seen: 36

Goals Seen: 52

[jdoyle9293]

Haven't commented since the beginning but I've been lurking in the background.

Russia is a very elusive place, both politically and geographically, especially for the West. This is fascinating in terms of its historical links and geographical references. Liking this so far - and the football has heated up a bit as of the last update with a 5-0 thrashing!

[EvilDave]

Thank you Mr Doyle - if I believed in the idea of 'spiritual homes' then Russia would be mine, so I'm glad you're enjoying my self-indulgent sharing!

--

Having decided to spend the festive period with the Richards clan, my only dilemma was how much time to spend and how to finance the operation. The winter break in Russia lasts for a mammoth four months - which seems a long time until you consider just how long snow remains on the ground in these parts - and I was uneasy about spending Sean’s money on what was effectively a holiday within a holiday.

In the end the decision was easy. I would stay as long as the family were willing to have me, explore a little of Japan if I outstayed my welcome, and then return to Russia in time for the resumption of the football season. Sean, as much as his famed generosity would have allowed it, would not be paying for me. For once, this would be all me.

Yet if I had allowed my pride to swell by trying to treat my new host family at Christmas, I was humbled by their simple love, warmth and affection. Almost 20 years of struggling ministry in a notoriously closed culture had not diminished the fundamental love for their fellow man which had taken them there in the first place. At no point during my stay did I feel preached at or rebuked, but their humble example certainly challenged me and my own lifestyle, and I made a note to reconnect with the church I had once attended back home. This was a family who knew and loved their God in the everyday, and for a wandering soul such as mine it made a significant impact.

But I would be manipulating the truth if I pretended my Christmas holiday was solely a spiritual journey. Even though I had not seen Carl or Deborah for the best part of two decades - and had never met any of their three beautiful young daughters, I was welcomed into the family with open arms. Carl proved an excellent tour guide to Nagasaki, and Debs’ unique blend of English and Japanese cuisines was the finest food I had tasted for years. To the girls - Amelia, Susie and Alice - I was a long-lost uncle, a new favourite playmate and above all a friend, whether throwing snowballs in the park or reading them bedtime stories. It was as if I had lived for them for years.

Indeed, while I had been worried about overstaying my welcome - or, to my shame, growing restless with the same people for so long - I was genuinely sad to leave them at the end of February. I had been with them for almost three full months and yet would happily have stayed for several more, had Russia not been calling once more. The offer was there for me to stay, and it was not something I dismissed out of hand, but Carl and Debs both knew I couldn’t really stay.

The thought did occur to me though, and it was not easy to shake. After all, the original Plan that Sean and I concocted said nothing of travelling back across Russia after making it to the Pacific. Yet for me to abandon my initial itinerary at the halfway stage, and to do so with Sean’s money sat in my pocket, would not seem fair - not fair on Sean, who no doubt knew exactly how far the cheque would carry me, or on Carl and his family, on whom I would surely become a burden at some point.

No, I would continue, my soul suitably stirred and searched for the right decision. Carl, who I had chatted to at length about almost everything - the result of his genuine openness and interest, and my travelling alone for so long - seemed to understand where I was coming from and my motivation behind it, and was not in the least bit offended when I told him I would forego his hospitality for the end of the Siberian winter. The tears in my eyes were genuine as I boarded my ship to Vladivostok, and I promised myself and my hosts that I would not let another 15 years pass before my next visit.

[EvilDave]

13th March 2014

Match #24

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Dinamo

Luch-Energia Vladivostok vs Baltika Kaliningrad

The journey: As I had decided in Japan, I would not be taking shortcuts on my back across Russia, even though this meant I would be severely squeezed for time. On my way out, I had taken in 22 matches in roughly five months. In order to make it back in time for the end of the season, I would have to cover the ground in just two. It would be a struggle, but I would rather fail trying than give up on The Plan without giving it my best shot.

What that meant in practice was a return to Vladivostok and the Pacific coast, determined to get back to somewhere more central as quickly as was reasonable. The southern region of Russia remained untouched, but I had no desire to spend several days non-stop without taking in a game or three.

Accordingly, I had a Thursday night game in Vladivostok before a lengthy journey slightly off the beaten track. I had watched Luch before, and they had struggled in the wintery conditions. Now, with the snow finally beginning to melt and the sea breeze cooling rather than chilling, I felt it was only fair to give them another chance to impress.

The match: Besides my desire to get back across Russia ‘properly’ - it would have been far too easy to hop on a plan to Novosibirsk or transfer to Krasnodar - the fixture list gave me good reason to once again venture into the stands of Dinamo and watch the former Prem’er Liga side make their way in the second tier.

That reason was Baltika Kaliningrad, the team based in Russia’s western extremity. Hailing from the exclave locked between Poland and Lithuania, they made up one half of what must be the world’s ridiculous domestic football match. To reach Vladivostok, the Baltika side had already travelled through nine time zones and covered roughly 6,500 miles before they stepped onto the pitch. Had this been at any time other than the first game of the spring season, they would almost certainly have been jetlagged.

However, as it happened, the Kaliningrad side had been able to fly in a week ahead of schedule to overcome their body clocks. What also helped them was a moment of madness from Luch’s Vladimir Ponomarev who, with no visible provocation, decided to turn and punch his marker square in the nose in an off-the-ball incident, earning him a straight red card after just a quarter of an hour.

That paved the way for Baltika to take the lead shortly afterwards, and then conserve their energy by playing comfortable keep-ball in their own half for much of the game. As a spectacle, it was uninspiring, but to witness a league game with half the world between participants was certainly something Sean would have been proud of, and an unexpected bonus to add to a growing list.

Luch-Energia Vladivostok 0-1 Baltika Kaliningrad

Scorers: Aleksandr Minchenko (18)

Attendance: 2688

Teams Seen: 37

Goals Seen: 53

[EvilDave]

16th March 2014

Match #25

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Vostok’

Stadion Avangard

Smena Komsomolsk-na-Amure vs Sibir-2 Novosibirsk

The journey: For the next leg of my journey, I was effectively retracing the majority of my steps that I had made on the road from Vladivostok to Vanino, although instead of veering east to the meet the coast, our minibus taxi stayed firmly by the riverside, following the twists and turns of the Amur as it headed further north.

My destination was the city of Komsomolsk, a city built from nothing in the 1930s by the power of the Communist Party’s youth wing - hence the name of the city. In truth there is little drawing anybody here away from the main Trans-Siberian route - the city is primarily industrial, its geography makes the climate both cold and windy, and even finding a hotel proved a task far harder than one would usually expect.

Still, to see the monuments to the young pioneers who had left the comforts of home for a new life in the Russian Far East, to walk where they walked and admire the same river they saw such value in was at least a little inspiring. While being a puppet of politics or ideology is not something I would ever wish anyone to aspire to, I could not help but be moved by their dedication to the cause, and the sacrifices they made in pursuit of their ideals.

What’s more, the trip to Komsomolsk ensured I would not have retrace my steps later down the line - skipping Khabarovsk and making an alternative route back to Siberia. I was again aware of how precious time was becoming, but I was determined to stick to those original principles I had outlined.

The match: Terrible weather is not conducive to attractive football, as I have found out previously on my travels. The first time I was in Vladivostok I witnessed two teams squaring off against the wind and cold as much as each other, and here on the banks of the Amur I witnessed something very similar between Smena and the reserve team from Novosibirsk.

Sibir’s fledgling Eagles did at least have a little more technical ability on their side, and in the opening exchanges were quick to assert their dominance over the home side. They were assisted by one or two fringe first-teamers trying to earn a place with the main squad, and the gulf in experience was evident on the field. The first shot on goal of the match, a weighted, wind-assisted lob which clipped the top of the crossbar on the way over, could only have come from the visitors.

The same trick almost yielded a goal on the stroke of half-time, but it took almost an hour before Sibir finally broke the deadlock. Young Nikita Yerlin got the breakthrough, firing through a crowd of bodies after a free-kick bounced back off the wall, and that was good enough to claim all three points.

With a full week before the next game - something which weighed heavily on my mind - I had no need to rush out of Komsomolsk, but with so little to keep me around I was little quicker to leave the stadium than usual. I had a long journey ahead, and to a far more appealing city.

Smena Komsomolsk-na-Amure 0-1 Sibir-2 Novosbirsk

Scorers: Nikita Yerlin (54)

Attendance: 465

Teams Seen: 39

Goals Seen: 54

[EvilDave]

23rd March 2014

Match #26

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Vostok’

Stadion Lokomotiv

Radian-Baikal Irkutsk vs Sibir-2 Novosibirsk

The journey: The reason I needed a week between matches had little to do with sloth, but rather the sheer amount of ground I was covering. Having decided to forego a second trip to Khabarovsk, I found myself passing through on the train anyway less than 24 hours into a mammoth three-day ride to Irkutsk on the shore of Lake Baikal. Never before have I spent so long on one mode of transport, and while my comfort was not lacking, it was not an experience I am keen to repeat.

After spending such a long time skirting the Chinese and Mongolian borders, Irkutsk proved to be a breath of traditional Siberian air in a region so often influenced by Russia’s Asian neighbours. The city, particularly outside of the immediate centre, is dominated by classical Russian architecture, while its numerous museums testify to the traditional Siberian life through the centuries. Irkutsk is a city very aware of its place on the Trans-Siberian, and has made the most of it very tastefully.

The main attraction is, of course, Lake Baikal itself, just a short journey away. The world’s oldest and largest freshwater lake, around one fifth of all the earth’s fresh water is believed to be contained within. Home to tourists and travellers, Buryat nomads and city-dwellers desperate for something more wild, it is undoubtedly the focal point of the region and rarely out of the news, whether for a new species discovered or activists protesting against a proposed nuclear plant in the vicinity.

Like Krasnoyarsk before it and Yaroslavl even earlier, Irkutsk is a city that would perhaps not be at the top of many people’s list of Russian cities to make a point of visiting. Nevertheless, it made it comfortably onto my list of cities I would happily make a home in.

The match: A trip to Irkutsk also meant a reunion with two clubs I have seen before. The visitors would be Sibir-2, who I witnessed grab victory over Smena in Komsomolsk just a week previously, while home team Radian-Baikal had enjoyed my presence in the stands for defeat in Omsk and victory over Chita. On the one hand it was a disappointment not to add any new teams to the list after three days of travelling, but on the other it was pleasing to return to two teams which favoured attack over defence.

Before today, I had witnessed just the one hat-trick on my travels - that of the magisterial Sergei Vinogradov on Sakhalin. That was a perfect treble and unlikely to be beaten, but Sibir-2’s Vladimir Azarov became just the second member of that exclusive club with his display today. His first opened the scoring with cute dink over the onrushing keeper, his first header settled things just after half-time, and another headed effort two minutes later ensured the reserve club would head back to Novosibirsk with all three points.

But it was the home team who won the prize for the best goal of the day, as Pavel Garannikov - who also netted in the win over Chita - picked up the ball a full 30 yards from goal and smashed in a swerving shot which flew past the outstretched arm of the visiting keeper for a spectacular and ultimately meaningless consolation. He celebrated with a mere wave to the home fans, and there was little time for anything else.

The weather may have been cold - the thermometer was still yet to break beyond freezing in 2014 - but here there was none of the surrender to the elements I had witnessed closer to the coast. This was attacking football with little compromise, and it was a joy to see. I only hoped the style would persist even when the stakes were raised.

Radian-Baikal Irkutsk 1-3 Sibir-2 Novosbirsk

Scorers: Pavel Garannikov (90); Vladimir Azarov (13, 50, 52)

Attendance: 402

Teams Seen: 39

Goals Seen: 58

[EvilDave]

26th March 2014

Match #27

Prem’er Liga

Stadion Trud

Tom Tomsk vs Anzhi Makhachkala

The journey: Of the three days I had to reach the next city on my list, I was forced to spend one and a half on the train. Tomsk, one of the northernmost cities I could realistically visit, lies off the main Trans-Siberian line, meaning a slower train instead of the express line to Novosibirsk. Firmly in Siberia and with the permafrost still covered in the last of the winter snow, it would have been easy to both romanticise and revile such a hasteless roll across the taiga.

Tomsk itself is a pleasant if unremarkable city, with the traditional architecture of the area once again taking pride of place. Perhaps more significant than its ancient wooden buildings, however, is the population itself - Tomsk is the student capital of Siberia, with around a fifth of the city studying at one of the many educational institutions which seem to appear on every street corner. In a country where youngsters are so keen to flee to Germany, the US or Britain, Tomsk stands as a bastion of sorts, a hopeful beacon of youth when all others are abandoning ship.

The youth of the city makes it a cultural hotspot, and indeed in the Soviet period it was home to any number of directors, musicians, poets and artists who were keen to make their name either with the help of the state or in opposition. Siberia, so often associated with the gulag and exile, should be thankful for Tomsk - a young, promising and exciting city where youth can flourish and ideas formed. Simply to be around such youthful promise was reinvigorating, and I wondered how many of them would spread their horizons beyond their immediate surrounding in years to come. The answer, I hoped, was many.

The match: For all the promise of the city, Tomsk’s football team always seems to be in trouble - both on the field and off it. Twice in its history the club has been bailed out financially, with the Russian government itself stepping in to ‘persuade’ sponsors to come forward. Something of a yo-yo club between the top two divisions, Tom crave stability in the top flight, and with a current position of 14th - just above the dreaded bottom two - that goal is no different this season.

Visitors Anzhi are also an interesting case. Formed in the 90s and eventually making their way into the upper echelons of the national game, they too slipped into the second tier, and when they re-emerged were given the backing of locally-born billionaire Suleyman Kerimov. In came big names on the global stage - Samuel Eto’o the biggest of them all - and the domestic one - Igor Denisov and Aleksandr Kokorin to name but two - along with Guus Hiddink as manager, finishing 3rd and breaching Europe.

However, egos fought and Hiddink left, Kerimov tired of the bickering and the big names were sold. This season, Anzhi have a thin squad reliant on loans after something a firesale, and in 11th place are still at risk of the drop. It is little surprise my first Prem’er Liga game since September proved a cagey one.

In a game of few chances, it was appropriately the youth of the hosts that came through against the visitors’ experience. After a scrappy midfield battle, promising forward Kirill Panchenko found himself in the right place at the right time to prod home a ball in from the Tom left, and in the second half it was his partner Igor Portnyagin - on loan from Rubin - who sealed the win, twisting and turning in the area before finally finding space to fire past the Anzhi keeper. The win moved Tom up to 12th, just a point behind the visitors, and small step closer to safety with just a few games to go.

Despite my dislike of a team being bailed out by the state, I hoped they survived. The Russian game needs the likes of Tomsk as much as it needs the billions of Kerimov and his ilk. Whichever way it is developed, youth is the future, and Tom are giving it every chance of succeeding in the present.

Tom Tomsk 2-0 Anzhi Makhachkala

Scorers: Kirill Panchenko (38), Igor Portnyagin (60)

Attendance: 4958

Teams Seen: 41

Goals Seen: 60

[EvilDave]

1st April 2014

Match #28

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Neftyanik

FK Ufa vs Arsenal Tula

The journey: Another match, another mammoth journey to complete - such is the way when you are trying to traverse a country as large as Russia against the clock. From Tomsk to the Bashkir capital of Ufa, a city I did not think I would be able to lay my eyes on, I actually saved a few hours by paying for a transit visa through Kazakhstan. Our train - which still took the best part of two days, but five hours fewer than the alternative - entered into the largest of the Central Asian republics for around 150 miles, but even in the northern extremity the vast emptiness of the nation was evident.

However, as we crossed back into Russia - the border guards thankfully disinterested in my few belongings - we again seemed to be entering a land very different from the one I had left several hours before. Away from the harsh climes of Siberia and with the temperature finally beginning to climb, the lush grasses and rich forests of Bashkortostan were worlds away from what I had been used to for the past few month in the East.

Not strictly a tourist destination owing to its position off the Trans-Siberian route, Ufa has plenty to offer. Similarly to Kazan, the city is clearly proud of its Bashkir heritage, and culturally is distinct from the Slavic Russian majority in the rest of the country. Again, Islam is the dominant religious force if only on a social level, and the mosques and minarets make a striking change from the Orthodox crosses and wooden churches seen through Siberia.

Whether it was the new life of spring working within me - the mere sight of grass brought me substantial joy - or the thrill of being somewhere different, but I found Ufa to be a charming city for one of its size. I had enjoyed my time in Siberia immensely, even if I had struggled with the conditions at times, but by now I was glad to be leaving it in the past. Ufa was the first beneficiary of my glee.

The match: For all the joys of the city, Ufa’s eponymous football team are enduring a fairly terrible side. Rock bottom of the second tier and almost certain to drop down into the regional leagues so dreaded by those above them, they found themselves short on wins, confidence and belief that they could ever turn the season around.

By contrast, visiting Arsenal Tula, promoted at the same time as their hosts, still held a faint hope of play-off push under the guidance of Spartak Moscow legend and one-time Champions League winner Dmitri Alenichev. His side employed the same style of pressing game I had witnessed in Khabarovsk, but with less of a focus on possession and instead a drive to get the ball forward along the ground. Khabarovsk’s triangles became vertical lines for Arsenal, and their style was an intriguing one to behold.

Yet even as Ufa struggled to figure out how to combat such an unusual tactical approach, Arsenal were unable to turn their clear superiority into goals. Five minutes after the break, Ufa’s limited but nevertheless aggressive play earned them a reward - former CSKA Moscow youngster Anton Zabolotny the scorer, a crisp volley from the edge of the box after the initial cross had been headed into his path.

Ufa settled after taking the lead, but at the same time never seemed fully confident - as if they knew a mistake would eventually come. When it did, it came too late for them to respond - Arsenal’s on-loan Rubin defender Abisov was quickest to react to a hapless flap at a corner by the home goalkeeper. Just shy of 2,000 fans went home disappointed once more, and an excellent chance of victory slipped through Ufa’s fingers once more. It would take better displays than this to stay afloat this season.

FK Ufa 1-1 Arsenal Tula

Scorers: Anton Zabolotny (50); Ruslan Abisov (85)

Attendance: 1744

Teams Seen: 42

Goals Seen: 62

[EvilDave]

4th April 2014

Match #29

Prem’er Liga

Stadion Metallurg

Krylya Sovetov Samara vs Volga Nizhny Novgorod

The journey: It had been some time since I attended a weekend game, and at this point time itself was beginning to prove a limiting factor in just how long I could afford to spend in each city. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend a couple of days exploring Ufa, but with matches coming thick and fast over the next few days, I feared Samara might be the first sacrifice to my relentless schedule.

As it happens, the two days I had in the city after arriving on the overnight train from Ufa were more than sufficient to take in the limited sights. Much of that time was spent enjoying the bank of the Volga, that mighty river which I once again acquainted myself with, as the city itself offered very little of appeal. Perhaps it was unfair of me to compare it to the Bashkir capital, which seemed to lift my soul, but the old home of the Soviet aviation industry was decidedly bland by comparison.

The riverfront aside - admittedly one of the most pleasant I have had the good fortunate to happen upon - I could think of very little that Sean would have found interesting. I could find precious little commemorating the aircraft industry which is synonymous with the city, and the fact that it used to be closed to foreigners has resulted in a tourist industry slow to grow and bereft of ideas. Functional but with the blessings of a beautiful backdrop, Samara is a strategic stopping point, but little else.

The match: Samara’s local side is perhaps the most enduring legacy of its aviation history. Krylya Sovetov - the gloriously-named Wings of the Soviets - have become a mainstay in the Russian top flight since the Soviet Union fell apart, and despite flirting with relegation on a number of occasions, remain largely unthreatened. Generally unremarkable, usually functional, they are a fitting tribute to their unspectacular city.

In the first period against visiting Volga - the side who suffered defeat in my first Prem’er Liga game - Krylya were the more dangerous of the two sides without ever truly threatening the goal. One-time Blackpool striker Sergei Kornilenko seemed frustrated by the lack of a killer final ball, but on the one occasion he was picked out, he powered a header comfortably over the crossbar and into the crowd.

On the other hand, Volga scored with their first genuine chance of the game. Showing his fellow powerful striker how things are done, Ajax reject Dmitri Bulykin required two touches to score after coming on at the break - one to kick off and another send a header of his own beyond the reach of the goalkeeper. It would be Volga’s only shot on target of the match.

Yet the Wings could not battle back, attack after attack breaking on the waves of the Volga defence. Kornilenko was replaced in the final quarter as his manager tried desperately to inject some pace into his attack, but the lack of a focal point seemed to hinder rather than help his side. There was a certain inevitability about the result, and when the final whistle did come, the handful of boos from the stands were half-hearted at best. Krylya, like the city they represent, had been thoroughly underwhelming.

Krylya Sovetov Samara 0-1 Volga Nizhny Novgorod

Scorers: Dmitri Bulykin (48)

Attendance: 7641

Teams Seen: 43

Goals Seen: 63

[EvilDave]

6th April 2014

Match #30

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Tsentr’

Stadion Lokomotiv

Sokol Saratov vs Avangard Kursk

The journey: My journey from Samara to Saratov ticked off another first on an ever-growing list - it was the first match to which I took my belongings and headed straight for the station.

Just nine hours down the Volga from Samara is Saratov, and on a Friday night the midnight train was perfect. After forking out a little extra for a first-class compartment, I boarded, showed my ticket and slept right through, being loudly but courteously awoken at my destination by the rail staff. As I strolled out into the sunshine of Saratov, I wondered whether it might have been my favourite of all the journeys I had made.

Saratov, much like Samara, is a city brought into existence by the Volga. Like Samara, the riverfront is a highly pleasant place along which to spend hours or even whole days. Unlike Samara, there is another side to the city - a side which takes pride in its famous sons, which is eager to teach others it past, and which reserves special honour for none other than Yuri Gagarin.

The first man in space was not born in the city, but it was there he learned to fly, and therefore begin his trajectory towards the cosmos. His name and face are almost ubiquitous in Saratov, and it is clear he is loved as much for his character as for his achievement - something not entirely common in modern Russia.

On the whole, the city seemed to emit an far more welcoming aura than its northerly neighbour, and with the temperature still rising - the mercury had risen to around 15 degrees by now - the brief days I spent in Saratov were almost infinitely more enjoyable.

The match: In terms of third tier Russian football, the match I had come to see was a clash of the regional titans. Sokol Saratov, a top flight outfit at the turn of the millennium, were top of their league table and looking good for promotion to the national league. Behind them, Avangard Kursk were their only realistic challengers, four points behind and on a seven-match unbeaten run. A win here, and the title race would be well and truly on.

With two in-form teams on display and the prize for victory high - a seven-point gap would surely be enough for Sokol to seal promotion, even with a month of the season remaining - I would not have been foolish to expect a high-quality game. However, I would have been naive - as with cup finals and any big occasion, often the fear of losing overwhelms the desire to win.

And so as both teams employed single-striker systems designed to pack the midfield and limit their opposition, it appeared that avoiding defeat was the first priority for both managers. For Sokol, the league’s leading scorers, it was a minor surprise, but with Avangard boasting the best defence, at least one team were playing as expected. First point to the visitors in that regard.

Yet while the scoreboard remained untroubled, the action on the field was not without incident. With just three minutes remaining, Sokol defender Aleksandr Gorbatyuk thought he had all but sealed the title for his side when he rose to send a corner into the back of the net, but his celebrations were quickly curtailed as the referee adjudged him to have fouled his marker as he leapt. Relieved by the let-off, Avangard retained possession for much of what little time remained, and the draw damaged neither team’s chances. A fair, predictable result from an enjoyable but unspectacular match.

Sokol Saratov 0-0 Avangard Kursk

Scorers: None

Attendance: 3498

Teams Seen: 45

Goals Seen: 63

[EvilDave]

This will be the last post in here for a couple of weeks, as I'm heading off to Georgia (the country, not the US state) on holiday for a short break. Normal service will resume on my return.

--

8th April 2014

Match #31

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Tsentralnyi

Rotor Volgograd vs Alania Vladikavkaz

The journey: So far in April I had seen matches on Tuesday, Friday and Sunday, and my own fixture congestion was only about to get worse. Overnight trains would become my regular hotels, cities would have to make do with whistlestop tours apart from in exceptional circumstances, and sacrifices would have to be made.

Mercifully, the overnight route to Volgograd from Saratov was again a pleasant one, and a 4am arrival gave me ample time to explore the centre of what was once Stalingrad. Almost completely rebuilt since the war, modern Volgograd is a shrine to its history, with embankments and main streets named after entire army divisions, heroes of the war and glorious generals, while every museum bears witness to the devastation that once rained down on the city.

Topping off the tribute is the mighty Mamaev Kurgan, a towering image of Mother Russia, taller than even Liberty, beckoning her country to follow her onwards to victory. Leading up to the imposing monolith is a gauntlet of memorial - huge stone sculptures showing heroic Soviet soldiers, pools for reflections, bed upon bed of roses, and the vast eternal flame taking centre stage in a hall lined with the names of the war dead. It is impossible not to be moved by the spectacle.

Elsewhere, Volgograd is a dirty city - industry stills reigns supreme outside of the immediate and rather metropolitan centre - but there are ample opportunities to breath in calm and cleanliness. Whether by crossing the Volga to an unspoiled beach or simply enjoying a coffee on the Alley of Heroes, Volgograd strikes me as the ideal summer city. Even in spring it proved thoroughly enjoyable, and moved high up on my list of favourite destinations.

The match: However, I was not here for a history lesson, even if the football seemed determined to give me one. Both Rotor and Alania were powerhouses of the domestic game in the first half of the 1990s, and while both have fallen on hard times more recently, they draw a following which belies their relatively lowly positions. Sat in the stands with Mother Russia looking down from her hilltop perch, the match seemed to take on a grandeur which was otherwise lacking.

Happily, the two sides on the field seemed to draw strength from the swelling crowd, and launched themselves into a fine display of attacking football - even if defensive errors also played their part. A frantic opening half hour brought no score, but that soon changed when Latvian midfielder Ivans Lukjanovs sent an arrowed shot into the top corner from the edge of the box, sending most of the 10,000 fans in attendance into delirium.

Yet the lead did not last until the break, with Alania bouncing back admirably. First the Georgian Martsvaladze saw a shot bounce out off the post, and then their homegrown talent Georgi Gogichaev latched onto a through ball to level the scores. Half-time was needed as much to draw breath in the stands as to give the players a rest, and before we knew it we were going again.

The pace only slightly reduced, the two sides again went at each other from the off, and Martsvaladze soon had the ball in the net only for it to be ruled offside by the officials. With the game flowing from end to end, the only surprise was that the third goal took as long to come as it did, Lukjanovs becoming the hero of the day as he cleverly dummied his defender before beating the keeper low across goal. All Rotor had to do was hold out for another 25 minutes, and they would put a serious dent in Alania’s promotion bid.

But Alania were not chasing the title for nothing, and it was Martsvaladze who had the last laugh, finally getting his name on the scoresheet legitimately with just five minutes to go. A clever backheel from Gogichaev found him in a yard of space, and as two Rotor defenders lunged at the danger, he sent a shot over their despairing legs and beyond the home goalkeeper.

That was the end of the action, and quite possibly the finest game I have witnessed on my travels. That it came between two historic clubs that have fallen from grace, in a city I would happily make my home, with a stunning view and a oversized crowd all helped, but the football on display was quite spectacular. I would miss Volgograd, and indeed Rotor.

Rotor Volgograd 2-2 Alania Vladikavkaz

Scorers: Ivans Lukjanovs (34, 67); Georgi Gogichaev (43), Otar Martsvaladze (85)

Attendance: 9942

Teams Seen: 45

Goals Seen: 67

[EvilDave]

13th April 2014

Match #32

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Yug’

Stadion Tsentralnyi

Volgar-Gazprom Astrakhan vs Terek-2 Grozny

The journey: At a mere six hours, the train from Volgograd to Astrakhan was the shortest I had enjoyed in months. In the Far East, a journey of six hours would rarely get me halfway between destinations - here in the South, the major cities were much closer together, the vast open spaces of Siberia transformed into a more compact environment. It was easy to forget I was still travelling hundreds of miles.

Down on the Caspian coast, Astrakhan could be mistaken for a little corner of Persia in the middle of Russia. Although the influence is not as strong as it was in the days of the local khanate of old, Astrakhan remains a strong bridge between the Russian Federation, former Soviet territory in Azerbaijan and the Islamic stronghold of Iran, the melting pot of cultures in the Russian South drawing in added spice from the Asiatic world across the Caspian.

Here, churches and mosques live comfortably alongside one another, the local citizens apparently well aware of the city’s rich past and cultural origins. The city kremlin, a magnificent white structure at the highest point in Astrakhan, is a strange cross between a palace court and an outpost for battle, with features from every cultural influence seeping into its walls.

Down on the Volga, as the river draws its last breaths before plunging into the Caspian, life goes on as it presumably always has done. Yes, there are now glass-walled cafés giving people like me the chance to enjoy a cool beverage while looking out over the river, but along the front, people stroll, fish and work as they always have. Astrakhan is a fortress of the past, a timeless clash of cultures, and a most pleasant place to be. Another success story in the South.

The match: In Volgograd, I witnessed a second tier game with almost 10,000 people in the stands, an impressive figure given the level of the match and the fact that interest in the Russian game, outside of Zenit, Spartak and often Kuban, is dwindling. Here, however, I faced an entirely different proposition.

Joining me to watch Astrakhan’s premier club team, who have competed at a national level on numerous occasions on the years, were just 60 others. On this balmy Sunday afternoon, with a cool breeze and 18 degrees on the thermometer, only a few dozen people determined that the best use of their time would be to get behind their local football team. Local rivals FK Astrakhan were away, but Volgar are undoubtedly the bigger of the two teams, so to witness such poor support was disappointing.

Their opposition - the reserve team of Prem’er Liga Terek - may have accounted for a slight fall in the numbers, but away support is always weak due to the distances involved. Terek’s youngsters did not seem to know what to make of it all - although I suspected it was not the first time they had been able to hear every word uttered in the stands - and a lethargic first half had a training ground feel to it as the two teams went through the motions.

Indeed, only late it the second half did the players remember there were points at stake, and important ones too - Volgar were chasing promotion, while Terek were in a battle for survival at the foot of the table. With 10 minutes to go the result swung the way it was supposed to when Kirilenko won and converted a penalty, and that was that for the goalmouth action. Astrakhan may be a wonderful city with much to see, do and experience, but a game at Tsentralnyi is unfortunately not yet worth the visit.

Volgar-Gazprom Astrakhan 1-0 Terek-2 Grozny

Scorers: Denis Kirilenko (80)

Attendance: 63

Teams Seen: 47

Goals Seen: 68

[EvilDave]

15th April 2014

Match #33

Kubok Rossii Quarter-Final

Anzhi-Arena

Anzhi Makhachkala vs Dinamo Moscow

The journey: Strictly speaking, it was probably not entirely sensible for me to head into Dagestan, given the well-publicised insurgency in the region that flares up from time to time. Islamist militants and areligious separatists alike have made their presence known in the area, and Makhachkala itself, the region’s capital, has been the location of numerous shootouts and explosions through the years.

However, turning down the opportunity to visit one Russia’s most mysterious locations was not to be missed - I could not have imagined Sean skirting round it. Flashpoints rarely involve foreigners, and while the region brings certain risks, it also brings the promise of spectacular scenery, famed hospitality, and an other-worldly atmosphere that can only exist in the foothills of the Caucasus. It was a gamble, but I also knew that as long as I steered clear of religion and politics I would probably be safe.

So it proved as I travelled for some 12 hours down the Caspian coast into the hive of Islamic activity that is Makhachkala. Here there are few Orthodox cupolas, but minarets by the dozen, and a heat and spice in the air that could transport the imaginative traveller to Tehran or ancient Babylon if they desired. In the crowded, bustling central bazaar, it felt as if I had stepped back in time to the height of the Persian Empire.

My time in the city was brief - just long enough to peruse numerous markets and enjoy the stunning Caspian seafront - but at no point did I feel the sense of danger which numerous governments had tried to convince me of. The atmosphere was not one of fear but excitement and tradition, and I would not hesitate to return. Any prejudices I had taken in were well and truly removed.

The match: Makhachkala would also provide another first on my list - a cup match. Despite an indifferent league season, Anzhi had managed to reach the last eight of the domestic cup competition, and with a Europa League spot on offer for the winners, they were taking it more seriously than most. Visiting Dinamo had their eyes on a Champions League place through the league, and so the home fans were perhaps more confident than usual against the Muscovites.

However, they had reckoned without the impressive link-up play of Dinamo’s front four. Comprised of Hungarian Balasz Dszudszak, former Chelsea man Yuri Zhirkov - who traded Anzhi for Dinamo in the pre-season fire sale - German target man Kevin Kuranyi, and the national team’s great hope Aleksandr Kokorin. The four of them zipped the ball about with ease in the Anzhi half, and the home side seemed to be struggling to contain them.

It was little surprise then, when Kokorin got on the end of a Kuranyi flick-on to open the scoring midway through the half, nor when in the early stages of the second period it was he who got his toe on Zhirkov’s whipped low cross - much to the chagrin of the home fans. Anzhi’s attempts to get back into the game came largely through Spartak loanee and the man who was once Everton’s record signing, Diniyar Bilyaletdinov, and the unpredictable Olexandr Aliev, but the two experienced creators were unable to break down a disciplined Dinamo defence.

There would be a last-minute consolation for the home side, youngster Serder Serderov turning home Aliev’s cross at the second attempt, but in the end it was Dinamo who moved into the final four with relative ease. Anzhi’s season was effectively over - safe in the league and out of the cup - and their focus would turn to the next campaign. For Dinamo, they remained fighting on two fronts, and yet could so easily end up with nothing.

Anzhi Makhachkala 1-2 Dinamo Moscow

Scorers: Serder Serderov (90); Aleksandr Kokorin (23, 55)

Attendance: 6490

Teams Seen: 48

Goals Seen: 71

[EvilDave]

19th April 2014

Match #34

Prem’er Liga

Akhmat-Arena

Terek Grozny vs Spartak Moscow

The journey: For the first time in a while I was back on the buses, foregoing a 12-hour train ride for the five-hour alternative along the M29 to Grozny. As we twisted and turned our way through numerous Caucasian villages, the terrain changing with each mile we travelled, it was easy to forget we were just a couple of days away from Moscow.

In terms of perceived danger, the ancient metal box I had entrusted my life with was taking me out of the frying pan and into the fire. Chechnya, thanks almost exclusively to the two Kremlin-waged wars in the region, is a byword for separatism and religious fanaticism. On numerous occasions certain rebel leaders have declared independent republics within its borders, but all have been either crushed by force or dismissed out of hand.

Yet in reality, Chechnya today is a much safer place than in years gone by - to the extent that the local government is trying to lure tourists from the rest of the country. That leadership, led by the ubiquitous Ramzan Kadyrov, has come under intense criticism from the Western world - accusations of gangsterism, kidnapping and other human rights abuses ignored by Moscow in exchange for a stable Chechnya - has transformed the capital Grozny from war-torn bomb sire to modern Muslim mega-city.

Among its extravagant new shopping complexes and illuminated skyscrapers, there is most definitely a sense that everything is for show and without substance - the prosperity of the city has clearly not trickled down into the lives of its citizens. Yet for all its faults, Grozny did not seem dangerous - perhaps a sign that progress, albeit slow, is being made at a cost.

The match: Say what you like about Chechnya, but when it comes to football, the locals are obsessed - particularly when the big Moscow teams come to town. For the first time on my travels I was part of a crowd approaching 30,000, and I was confident the number would not be beaten.

The main reason for the boost in attendance was the visit of Spartak, who not only boast fans the length and breadth of Russia, but also seem to inspire a particularly strong dislike among supporters of other teams. In the top flight, Spartak’s arrival is almost guaranteed to bring the biggest crowd of the season - making them both a target for abuse, and the cup draw everybody wants.

This year, Spartak found themselves down in 6th and only a place ahead of Terek, the darlings of the local fans. Over the years the club, owned by Kadyrov himself, has been embroiled in numerous controversies and sacked managers at the drop of a hat, yet seem to have finally established themselves in the Prem’er Liga through a combination of the finest local talent and overpaid foreigners using Russia as a stepping stone to greater things. This year’s star, Brazilian forward Ailton, was sadly injured for this clash, meaning Terek were forced to make a change from their usual tactic of looking to spring the pacey forward in behind opposition defences.

As such their play became stodgy and uninspired, and while Spartak were far from their best they were evidently better organised and had a more coherent plan than their rivals. Exploiting the width of the Akhmat Arena, cross after cross came into box, with the powerful frame of Yura Movsisyan the target.

In the end it was not the Armenian who got the decisive goal but lifelong fan and youth product Dmitri Kombarov. Raiding forward from his left wing berth, he took a diagonal ball from twin brother Kirill, forced his way into the box and smashed a rising shot beyond Yaroslav Godzyur in the Terek goal. With half an hour still to play Terek offered little, and it was Spartak who deservedly claimed the points. The swelled crowd left disappointed - I was simply pleased to have seen so many at a football match.

Terek Grozny 0-1 Spartak Moscow

Scorers: Dmitri Kombarov (61)

Attendance: 28566

Teams Seen: 50

Goals Seen: 72

[EvilDave]

22nd April 2014

Match #35

Futbolnaya Natsionalnaya Liga

Stadion Spartak

Alania Vladikavkaz vs Angusht Nazran

The journey: If a student decided to make the journey I had embarked on over the past couple of weeks, their parents would have had a fit. From the relative safety of Volgograd, I had travelled through Dagestan and Chechnya - two of Russia’s most dangerous regions - and in order to reach my next destination, booked my place on another wheeled box to traverse first the equally troublesome Ingushetia region and the beginnings of the Georgian Military Highway.

The journey of 80 miles took almost four hours as we snaked our way through the lowest of the Caucasus range, our driver thankfully seeming to have at least a sense of the danger of the road. Even at four hours it was a much quicker route than the alternative - a 15-hour train journey taking in a huge diversion which more than doubled the distance covered - and in truth I was glad of the mountainous view from the road. In its rawest form, nature was enough to distract from the fact that time was very much running out.

As such I would have three days in Vladikavkaz, the southern fortress built centuries ago as the Tsars waged war against the mountain tribes of the Caucasus. A bastion of imperial might against the unruly civilisations of the hills, it later became the strategic centre of the Soviet Union and indeed Russia’s operations in the area. An obvious target for militants yet in recent years largely free from incident, the city is a symbol of the reach of Russia’s military.

Perhaps due to the influx of Russians into the region on military duty, the Asiatic influence on Vladikavkaz is decidedly subdued when compared to other cities in the region. North Ossetians are far more likely to be Russified, adherents to Orthodoxy and loyal to the state than their Ingush or Chechen brothers, and so the city feels far more like a Yaroslavl or Samara than a Kazan or Makhachkala. Perhaps a sign of the times, or just a hint that my travels were taking me back to the Russian heartland.

The match: Yet for the many differences between the residents of Vladikavkaz and Grozny, their passion for the beautiful game runs equal. While Alania can fall back on a rich history, they can also look back on more recent years of financial struggle, liquidation and rebirth, so to call upon some 18,000 fans for a second tier game against the division’s no-hopers was particularly impressive.

Visiting Angusht made it something of a local derby - I had passed through Nazran on the bus here - but on paper this was a mismatch of significant proportions. Whereas Alania retained some of the players who had been relegated from the Prem’er Liga, Angusht brought up with them a team of predominantly local Ingush teenagers and journeyman, the club unable to attract more talented players to Ingushetia with either wages or geography. As such, they were fighting it out with Ufa for the league’s wooden spoon, and were already doomed to relegation.

But Alania too pride themselves on giving homegrown talent a chance, and it was one such player who stole the show for them on this sun-drenched Tuesday evening. Midway through the first half, Taras Tsarikaev drifted infield and hit a 25 yard drive which skidding into the bottom corner, and already the heads of the Angusht players began to drop. They had barely had a sniff, and already they were behind.

Alania’s domination continued for the remainder of the match, their midfield controlling possession and carving their inexperienced opposition open at will. Angusht had performed a miracle to win promotion the previous year, but were clearly not ready for the national stage. Tsarikaev put them out of their misery with a second goal late on, and the huge crowd left happy with a win over their Caucasian brethren. I only wished things had been less one-sided.

Alania Vladikavkaz 2-0 Angusht Nazran

Scorers: Taras Tsarikaev (23, 77)

Attendance: 18314

Teams Seen: 51

Goals Seen: 74

[EvilDave]

25th April 2014

Match #36

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Yug’

Stadion Tsentralnyi

Mashuk-KMV Pyatigorsk vs Olimpia Volgograd

The journey: With less than a month to go before the end of the season, I was travelling north. Deciding against a half-day on the train for another four-hour jaunt in a Soviet minibus, we passed through the tragic town of Beslan - home of the 2004 school siege which saw almost 400 killed - and the Kabardino-Balkarian capital of Nalchik as we wound up the M29 to my next destination.

Pyatigorsk, where I arrived two days before the next game on my schedule, may be the most beautiful city in Russia. Famed for being the final resting place of poet, author and renaissance man Mikhail Lermontov - who died in a duel conspicuously similar to the hero of his masterpiece, ‘A Hero Of Our Time’ - the Soviet sanitorium city epitomises the beauty of the Caucasus.

Rising up in the centre of the city is Mount Mashuk, a short climb or shorter cable-car journey to the summit. From there, the twin peaks of Beshtau dominate the northern view, while the snowy plateau of Elbrus, Europe’s tallest mountain, fills the east. To the south the city sprawls out, an illuminating foray towards the Georgian border some 40 miles away, while a westward glance sweeps across seemingly endless steppe, the vast flat expanse out of place compared to its mountainous surrounds.

For its relatively few foreign visitors, Pyatigorsk is the source of hot spring waters both soothing and sulphurous, or the site of a literary pilgrimage to honour the man whose name dominates this sleepy Caucasian city. Yet whether walking through its leafy centre or sampling the delights of its market stalls, Pyatigorsk is the perfect Caucasian city - wonderfully hospitable, stunningly beautiful and with a pace of life far removed from the competitive, dog-eat-dog world of the big cities.

There have been many places to have captured my heart over the last few months, but Pyatigorsk has claimed top spot in my own personal league table. Few places have left such an impression in such a short space of time, and on leaving I already began to miss it.

The match: As a team, Pyatigorsk’s Mashuk epitomise their city well - technically pleasing, often over-elaborate for the sake of aesthetics, and trapped firmly in the Caucasus, their strong home record and poor away form keeping them safely entrenched in the southern zone of Russia’s third tier. Prisoners of circumstance, they simply refused to change.

Visitors Olimpia are Volgograd’s second team, poor relations of once-mighty Rotor, and perennial candidates for relegation back into the amateur leagues. This season they will avoid the drop due to the incompetence of Terek’s second string, but they are perhaps a step too high on the Russian footballing ladder.

Yet for all their advantages, Mashuk seemed intent on gifting Olimpia at least a point. Rarely have I seen possession dominated so emphatically without an end product, nor with such gifted interplay. One of the few sides at this level with a settled side, Mashuk’s midfield weaved pattern after pattern of intricate passes, keeping the ball moving far faster than the legs of their weaker opponents. However, shot after shot landed either in the grateful arms of the goalkeeper or comfortably wide of the target, and as time moved on they only grew more tired in the heat of the evening.

As the sun began to set on the working week, so did Mashuk’s chance of three points from the game. The final whistle brought an end to the most one-sided goalless draw I have witnessed, yet those in attendance seemed unfussed by their team’s profligacy. I imagined it was due to their contentment with their lot in life - in reality, they had probably seen the same match plenty of times before.

Mashuk-KMV Pyatigorsk 0-0 Olimpia Volgograd

Scorers: None

Attendance: 1697

Teams Seen: 53

Goals Seen: 74

[EvilDave]

27th April 2014

Match #37

Vtoroi Divizion, Zona ‘Yug’

Stadion Yunost

Torpedo Armavir vs Vityaz Krymsk

The journey: Originally, there was no match planned for this date - I had instead decided to head further along the M29 to another top level game and take the opportunity to use some of my limited time to rest and recuperate. However, a pang of conscience instead led me to Armavir - this was, after all, a once in a lifetime journey, and I could not imagine Sean passing up an intriguing city because of fatigue. Ultimately, it was his money I was spending.

And so I boarded the five-hour train from Pyatigorsk, deciding to at least take the more comfortable option instead of another metal deathtrap. With temperatures hitting 20 degrees and the train’s heating system still working overtime, it was a hot and sweaty journey, but still infinitely more pleasant than making the same journey by road. Armavir station seemed unremarkable, but I expected little else.

Armavir stood out only on the map because of its history. Settled by Armenian immigrants centuries ago and named after a corresponding town in their homeland, the city grew into a major industrial centre while still retaining a significant Armenian influence. Many of the businesses which adorn the city centre are still run by members of the diaspora, and even many of the Russians who now occupy the high-rise flats are somewhat proud of the city’s unusual heritage.

For the tourist, there is little to see. In fact, for any journey other than my own - perhaps excluding those with Armenian heritage - Armavir would hold little to no appeal. However, as a quirk of history and a distinct anomaly in a country usually keen to downplay the influence of other cultures, it proved an interesting distraction.

The match: At this late stage in the season, local team Torpedo had everything to play for, chasing down promotion favourites Chernomorets to sit within two points of the Novorossiysk side atop the table. Vityaz Krymsk, on the other hand, arrived with nought but pride resting on the result their safety secured and promotion now impossible.

So when the visitors took the lead after just five minutes, there was an understandable stunned silence in the Yunost stadium. Their side was caught napping by a routine long ball, a central defender found himself caught under it, failed to atone for his error and could only watch as his mark broke free, sliding the ball calmly under the Torpedo keeper and sliding on his knees in celebration.

A minute later, some of those same fans would have been tempted to leave. From the kick-off, Torpedo were robbed, the ball fed forward by the Vityaz midfield and then crossed into the box from wide on the left. The cross was headed out, recycled back to the winger, and whipped in a second time for Artur Grigoryan - by cruel irony an Armenian - to stoop and all but end Torpedo’s promotion push with a firm header.

Torpedo fought back, and after a sustained period of pressure finally gave their fans something to cheer about just before the break. Arsen Kaitov started the move by winning possession 30 yards from goal, and finished it with a powerful shot from just inside the penalty area. With all the momentum and the fans behind them, they looked good for at least a point.

But despite intense second-half pressure, Vityaz held out for a win which meant little to them and everything to their vanquished opponents. With news of a win for Chernomorets, Torpedo moved five points off the pace - surely too much of gap for this proud club.

Torpedo Armavir 1-2 Vityaz Krymsk

Scorers: Arsen Kaitov (41); Artem Katashevsky (5), Artur Grigoryan (6)

Attendance: 2430

Teams Seen: 55

Goals Seen: 77