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“You goin in,” a Fulham fan asked a Portsmouth rival from the line at Fratton Park’s visitors gate? “Of course,” the hefty Pompey supporter said smiling, his PFC jersey stretched to the brink over his belly. “Once in a lifetime isn’t it?”

Yes sir. My first two English Premier League games go down as not just historic for me, but for Fulham as well. My week in England comes to a close, but Fulham and its American quintuplets will be in the Premiere League next season, thanks to the greatest ugly win I have ever seen. (Reading and Derby County’s American players were not as lucky).

Walking into Fratton Park was like walking back in time, the stadium pressed up against row houses with laundry hung on lines out to dry in the searing mid May heat.

More than an hour before kickoff the Milton End visitors’ stand was filling while the rest of the stadium sat relatively empty, a sign no doubt about who this game meant more to. Indeed, the first words out of the public address announcers booming voice was a reminder of the FA Cup Final at London’s Wembley Stadium next week where Portsmouth would face Cardiff. Portsmouth fans would remain quiet and seated the entire match.

Block Q. Row E. Seat 111. I was in row B, seat 11 at Craven Cottage the week before and decided my strings of ones was a good omen for a team looking to string together a few things itself. Fulham had never won at Fratton Park before today, never won three Premiere League games in row, and it has been four years since they won three away games in a row.

Just a bit of pressure on the boys, and it showed. In the faces of fans as well, who stood for 90 minutes, singing and chanting throughout the game. Ah yes, the game. It was just horrid. No talking around this one. Not a single player stood out. Even fan favorite and media darling Jimmy Bullard had more bad moments than good, and the fans started letting their players hear it. But the effort, though jittery, was there, you could see it in the Fulham faces. On what must have been the hottest day of the year in Portsmouth, they never gave up, even improved as the game went on.

Anguished text messages and cell phone scores made it apparent Fulham would have to win in order to maintain their top flight status.

The second half was much more productive than the first, not that the soccer was any prettier. But the ball did actually spend some time bouncing around the Portsmouth penalty box and low and behold in the 76th minute one of the several free kicks Bullard had during the day finally found a wide open Danny Murphy. The aging Englishman didn’t disappoint. An easy header really, but under the circumstances I wouldn’t describe it as such. The roar from the fans was otherworldly, a first breath after nearly drowning.

Of course they then needed to hold that breath for another 15 minutes of regulation and injury time, but in the end it happened.

Effort got Fulham through today. Another miracle, rarer than even the five days of undisturbed sunshine that rained down on my first trip across the pond.

What a crazy sport to turn us crazy…

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welcome to Fratton Park

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looking ahead to the FA Cup Final

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This wall of fame was but one piece to the Fratton Park puzzle–other pieces were graffiti, chain link fencing, wholly separate entrances for visiting fans, tight security for visiting fans, no walking around other parts of the stadium for visiting fans, poured concrete everything, no merchandise or program booths, a single (mobbed) concession stand –that had me feeling as if I was behind the Iron Curtain. That’s not to say it was bad. Other than the acute separation of fans (a bygone leftover from more hooligan times?), the no frills atmosphere kept the attention where it should be. On the field. All U.S. sports could learn a lesson there.

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visitor’s entrance. you must enter here.

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nervous waiting

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a net and security guards remained all game separating the visitors’ section from the home fans. After the game, several Portsmouth fans reached across the nets to congratulate the Fulham faithful, including that large gentleman seated with a Pompey crest tattoo on his calf, one of the best fans I have ever seen.

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baloons bouncing helped pass the pregame wait.

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you just can’t get away from Red Sox fans.

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crazy thought: why not lie a player down behind the wall with his back to the ball on free kicks? So when the wall jumps, the ball can’t go under.

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unlike Red Sox gear, it’s always nice to see the stars and stripes

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Dempsey made his presence felt on defense, making several solid clearances, one perfect slide tackle in the box and a bicycle clearance deep in the defensive corner to save a corner kick. Until Fulham finds a way to open up their attack, this is how their attackers are going to have to play.

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unsuccessful corner, but later…

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GOAL!

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Will Keller be Back? McBride? Bocanegra? Pals Clint Dempsey and Eddie Johnson appear the only Americans to definitely return to the South London club at the end of the summer. I’d guess McBride makes one more go of it as well.

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topless dancers

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singing: “we are staying up. we are staying up.”

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My favorite smack-talking line: “scoreboard”

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