Mistakes I WILL NOT repeat on this year’s soccer trip to England

Once a year some buddies and I make a little cross-Atlantic hop to take in a few matches in England. It’s usually a long weekend: leave Thursday, return Monday and catch two or three matches in between.

There might be a beer or two involved. Ahem.

This year’s itinerary rolls out a little differently. We’ll leave earlier to see Wednesday’s Champions League biggie at the Emirates (Arsenal-Partizan). Friday we’ll take in a match at Loftus Road, where Queens Park Rangers’ fine season in England’s second tier has the west London club well positioned for promotion into the Premiership for next year. Then on Saturday, we’ll see Fulham take on Sunderland at cozy Craven Cottage.

Since this isn’t my first rodeo, I’ve learned a thing or two about how to better manage this trip.

• I will have tickets in hand. Nothing kills the buzz on game day like dealing with the touts on the street. They’re all so dodgy. And some stadiums there have gone to a card system, where you swipe your piece of plastic (it’s like a credit card) and then proceed to your seat. We got into some trouble at West Ham one year dealing with those screwy things. So, we’re all set on seats this time.

• I will not take a roller bag. Actually I wasn’t the one who learned the tough lesson on this one. Frankly, I detest those things. I can carry a damn bag. But to watch my pal Mark drag his clunky roller bag through the snow two years ago after our trip back to London from Liverpool and Anfield … that was more memorable than hearing the We’ll Never Walk Alone at the ground.
• Speaking of song and chant: I’m going to do some Googling to find out what the supporters will be chanting at the Emirates, Loftus and Craven Cottage. You’re sitting there enjoying the game, hoping the little wager you made at the shop on site pays off, taking it all in … and the only thing that could make it all better is if you knew what in the hell they are singing and chanting. Not this time. I'm on it!
• I will stop at my local bank and grab some British pounds. Because the foreign money exchange is such a freakin’ buzz kill. As you land at teeming Heath Row, you’re all fast-twitchy and giddy about your trip – and then the first thing you do is get screwed on the foreign exchange rate. And don’t tell me about ATMs being the best way to get cash abroad. That may be true from a technical standpoint. But I get so beaten down from the number of hits you take on this one. Once the bank levies its transaction fee AND the percentage for currency conversion (WTF?), and the ATM gets its pound of flesh, I really can’t tell how much money I’m out on the deal. At least with the currency conversion, you take your ass whuppin’ at once. You know, the ol’ “Let’s just get this over with” effect.

Oh ... and remember last year's disclaimer, for those of you who know where the Daily Soccer Fix central is located:

The boarder collie will fold in a fight. The rottie mix is a sweet, sweet dog, but he will defend the castle. Still, you might be able to wrestle him to the ground if you're tough. But the Great Dane ... he will definitely eat your junk. You've been warned.