As most of you know, Cartilage Free Captain, or rather, yours truly was on the ground in person to experience Tottenham Hotspur’s preseason tour of Sydney as they took part in the aptly named Sydney Super Cup.
This presented a rare chance for many fans to get up close and personal with the team that they love. Though this is the third time Spurs have made trips to Australia in four years (the most recent being against West Ham United in Perth and Newcastle United in Melbourne), it was the first time in a decade
the Lilywhites had made an appearance in Australia’s most densely populated city.
Once on the ground, I had the idea to write up a bit of a summary of the trip, but from a slightly different angle. Here at Cartilage Free Captain, we are not journalists; we are fans. But we always try and write from a balanced, factual, and analytical perspective. As such, at times we try and remove the fan angle from our writing in order to deliver you, our readers, the best analysis money can buy. Or rather, the best analysis you can get for free. We like to think we’re at least on par with the Metro.
But like I said, we are massive fans – and so I thought: why not let my flag fly a bit? What has this tournament and trip been like from a fan perspective… but also from having access a fan might not usually have? So this piece (and two to three others that will follow in a series this week) are being written from that point of view: part travel blog, part human-interest piece, part fan boy experience. Maybe that’s of interest to you; maybe not!
But I plan on talking about the trip; about fans I talked to in Sydney; about my experience as a fan walking into the press box and seeing Spurs play for the first time. Hopefully you enjoy.
Getting there
Now, I’m not going to go too in depth as to the details of my trip – I do want to focus on the Spurs-related elements. But I did think it could be fun to talk about my experience (read: misfortune) travelling overseas to get to see the team we know and love, for your amusement as much as anyone else. The referee blows for kick-off in the match of Worth It vs. Not Worth It, with the home side heavy favorites. Editor’s note: please be aware that this is very much (mostly) in jest – I am hugely grateful to Dustin and to Spurs for getting to experience this!
I left my house at 4:30 am local time, with the local temperature a balmy 28 °F. Not Worth It took an early one goal lead. After an almost 4-hour flight (which in all honesty is not too bad) I landed in Sydney, with my first port of call getting my phone / data sorted. I had things all lined up to load in an esim with a particular travel plan, and was in the process of purchasing this when the site crashed… after charging my card. Not Worth It is up 2-0.
I head to the kiosk of the Telco business, where I spend over half an hour trying to get it sorted. They then offer to sell me a certain deal with more data (that I didn’t need) for twice the money. Thanks for that. Telco knocks in a double, and Not Worth It leads by three. I tell them where to shove it and end up through some technical wizardry managing to sort it myself, before getting a pretty decent coffee and donut nearby. We’re now at 1-3 with a goal against the run of play.
I then get on the wrong bus. In my defense, it was the same route number, at the same time, at the same stop (it was just going the other way: there’s a loop at the airport that means both directions hit the same stop, and the one I was supposed to be on was running late). 1-4. I realize this reasonably quickly though, note that the bus will be stopping near a train station and get off there, just to see the bus I was supposed to be on depart on the other side of the street. Two saves by the keepers on either side keeps things at 1-4.
There’s a train leaving in 5 minutes. I’m still kind of dressed for 28 °F, and lugging a large suitcase. In Sydney it’s around 70 °F. After rushing down a couple of flights of stairs and up a couple more to get to the platform, I realize I’ve made another mistake: I’ve confused the train number and platform number. I quickly correct said mistake, and make it to the train just in time; albeit sporting a heavy sweat. We’ll call this 1-5, though it did go to a VAR check.
I then doze off on the train. While doing so I accidentally close out of my Google Maps session and wake up in a tunnel with no GPS signal. I think back to the initial route I queried, and note that the train has just departed the stop at which I was supposed to disembark. Feeling tired and frazzled, I get off at the next one instead, only to realize that the previous route I remembered was based on catching the original bus, not the updated route, and I got off the train four stops too early. I have to wait 10 minutes to get BACK on the same train. It’s a hat-trick for Sydney Public Transport, all assisted by my own stupidity and tiredness as Not Worth It takes a mammoth 1-7 lead.
After the latest train ride, I hop on another bus, and finally get to my friend’s apartment… on the fourth floor of an apartment building with no elevator. I’m hot, tired, and with a too-large suitcase. 1-8. I get to see my friend though for the first time in over a decade, and his partner (who is absolutely lovely) makes me a fantastic coffee and I finally relax. Two goals for the Power of Friendship, and it’s 3-8.
Leading up to the match
The next day is the day of Spurs’ first match in Sydney, a friendly against Sydney FC. I do some prewriting to prep for the evening’s events, before heading out into the sunshine. It’s a beautiful day, so I decide to head to the beach and do the Coogee to Bondi walk along the coast. It’s incredible weather, and the route (being a reasonably popular tourist attraction) has a fair few people walking along it. I regret not bringing a change of clothes so I could for a swim, that’s how nice it is. I wade in at the Bondi end to my knees regardless. The home side has got a couple back, and the score is at 5-8.
What surprises me (and surprised me through the trip, honestly) is the amount of Spurs fans I see out and about, with probably about a dozen seen just on this outing. Most of the kits are newer ones, and unnamed, though I see one or two older kits, a Kolo Muani away from last season, and a solitary Chelsea kit. Ugh. 6-8, though slightly tainted by a rough foul in the buildup on a Worth It player.
A few recognize the black kit I’m wearing from last season (Bergvall on the back) and nod their approval, with one going as far to exclaim, “Go the Spurs!” It’s very nearly an own goal, but blocked at the far post by a vigilant defender. Come On You Spurs is the correct vernacular, though I would have accepted Up the Spurs as well. Bloody Aussies.
I get to the ground, Allianz Stadium, nice and early. My contact in the Spurs accreditation office has gone oddly quiet over the last few days, so I want to make sure I have plenty of time in the event of mishaps. I head to a security checkpoint under the stadium on the western side; I try to tell him I’m from Matty from Cartilage Free Captain, but there’s a fair bit of noise, we’re separated by glass and the microphone / intercom is rubbish. After a momentary back and forth, he just hands me a green all-access wristband. 7-8, as the home side scores after an atrocious error at the back by Not Worth It.
The pitch is less than 20 yards away; I could run on if I wanted. I’m on a mission though. Nothing’s well signposted in this area, and after a couple of false starts, I find the elevator up to the third floor. I wander around looking confused, as I don’t actually really know where I’m supposed to be; this is noticed by a couple of stadium staff who note that I was supposed to pick up my accreditation at a window next to the box office. Ah.
They’re very kind though, and it’s just a momentary annoyance. I head down and back outside where it has got very cold and windy, and go along to the accreditation window I completely missed on my way in. I explain who I am (Matty Flatt from Cartilage Free Captain / SBNation / Vox Media) and the man on the other side of the window says, “You’re not on the list.”
It’s a late goal by the away side, in what could be the killing blow. 7-9.
Now the gentleman I’m talking to is very kind, and very patient. He asks who my contact is, I say the Spurs accreditation office, he makes some calls. He asks if I can call them; them being Spurs. I check the time in London, and think I might be in luck: it’s just after 9 am. A brief phone call and I’m informed the Spurs phone line doesn’t open until 10 am. Slackers. I reference the email trail between my contact at Spurs and the man behind the window makes some more calls.
Eventually he asks to clarify what kind of accreditation I should be under; I say I believe it to be written press, but given we’re a fan-run site, we could have been logged under Content Creator. He gives me a Content Creator pass, says if I have any issues to come back to him and we can chat further, and directs me towards Gate 8. I head to Gate 8. There are ticket scanners there, for which I don’t actually have a ticket. The security there clarify that the Content Creator pass doesn’t have access via that gate (which is the gate by which I access the elevators to the press box) and tell me to go back to the accreditation window. 7-10.
At this point, I’m feeling a little frustrated, but more anxious. I’ve flown a long way (at my own cost), left my wife and two daughters at home in New Zealand, only to potentially not be able to experience the very thing for which I travelled. I go back to my friend at the window (who I reiterate was very kind, and very patient) and he takes some screenshots of my email exchanges with Spurs. He makes more calls. It’s extremely cold now, and the wind has picked up, with me only having a blazer to provide warmth. 7-11 with bad club communications scoring a hat-trick.
After approximately another 20 minutes in the cold, he beckons me over. They have found my record; apparently an email somewhere along the way had got stuck in somebody’s outbox, or something along those lines. My anxieties are quelled; he issues me my press pass.
I finally head back to the elevator up to press box; this whole process has taken over an hour, and it’s less time than that now until kick-off. I need to get in front of my computer. I wander awkwardly into the press box, trying to pretend like I belong amongst the actual journalists and recognizing some familiar faces.
And then I see the view:
Not Worth It has suffered a calamitous red card, and Worth It have run in a deluge of late goals. It’s 17-11.
Check back in tomorrow, where I’ll talk through the events of the match and the aftermath.
