The big day was finally here: Wednesday 30 July, Fulham v Al-Itiihald. The Whites were in action against Saudi Pro League opposition, but due to the club’s contempt for their travelling support, no-one know where it would take place. The morning began with the conclusion of our investigative work from the previous weekend. Al-Ittihad’s website proclaimed that the match was an hour and a half away on the Scottish border, at a stadium, with walls that left your correspondent – height, 5’7”- unable to see over, even with a stepladder.
There was rumblings Al-Ittihad’s training camp at The Campus. The uncertainty was overwhelming. There was only one place we could regroup: the pub. I manfully pushed through a painful hat-trick, asking every Albufeira Old Town bar owner whether would screen the match for 20 or 30 Fulham fans. The aptly named ‘Underdogs pub answered in the affirmative. I spread the word and soon those thirty spots were full. Twitter and Tik Tok meant more Fulham fans arrived, the St. Georges’ flags proclaiming our love for London’s first professional side went up, and three founders of the Fulham Lillies graced us with their presence.
Ten minutes before kick off, word came that someone had a good view of kick off at an undisclosed location. Forty minutes away by car. Down went the lagers and the lads and lasses piled into a trio of Ubers, with tinnies purchased. We were completing that transaction when disaster struck. The sole Fulham follower at Qunta do Lago had been apprehended by the Portuguese police. The Campus now came with the potential of prosecution. “F*** that,” said a young lad in front of me. The tinnies made their way back to the shelves and Underdogs was bursting full of black and white. Bar, sun and Silva’s stylish side. Could be worse, couldn’t it?
6pm: kick off time. But the appointed hour came and went with nothing on the screen. ‘Senor, where’s the football, mate?’ He didn’t know. I was pacing in a panic now. I’d told all and sundry they could catch all the action here. But they couldn’t. I was in big trouble. To make matters worse, the Whites waltzed into a two-goal lead. Finally, just after Emile Smith Rowe had floated in the second, we got the game.
For a few seconds. The picture stroppier than Lawrie Sanchez in his six months in SW6. People got their phones out and followed that why until we got going having paid the seven quid several times over for FFCTV and the big screen limbered into life again to catch Jorge Cuenca’s cracking half-volley. 4-0 at the stroke of half time was worthy of toasting with another round. The second half wasn’t worth watching until Karim Benzema scored twice in two minutes and we wondered if we were watching Fratton Park 1985 in reverse.
Silva’s stylists clinched a fourth win of pre-season with a six-goal thriller and the Fulham faithful sung our songs. It was sometime after the stream had finished when a Brentford fan, complete in red and white, offered a ditty of his own outside. Our party quickly told him where to go. He wasn’t taking the Michael out of the mighty Whites; no chance. Peans of praise for Harry Wilson and Joe Bryan took the smile out of face. In fairness to the Hounslow bus stop boy, he took it. He must be used to the embarrassment by the now.
Our night was just getting started. A poor man was forced to sing Andy Williams on repeat, with Freed from Desire and Hey Jude following for good measures. They were many more Fulham classics and a bucketload of beers. We soon set off to the strip. Well, I say we, but someone stole my spot in an Uber, so your correspondent cantered along plenty of Portuguese highways on foot with several Super Bock in hand. An hour later and I had arrived. Cheers, fellas …
I can’t share too many of what happened next, but safe to say there wasn’t anyone left who didn’t know that Marco Silva’s a genius. I don’t want to think about how much many I’ve burned through for just ninety minutes of live football. Never mind a game of two halves, the Algarve diaries delivered four quarters. I’m sure it wasn’t what Hammyend’s esteemed editor expected – and that makes two of us. From Albu-Fulham, over and out, ladies and gents.
CJ’s column will be back – by popular demand – throughout the 2025/2026 campaign. Parts 1, 2, and 3 of his Algarve diaries are worth a look. You can locate London’s Original on Medium and Youtube or browse @BlancosAway on Twitter/X.
