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Ever sat in the home end at an away game?
- Thread starter HelloCity
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Always Ali
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- Statistically, the greatest English football team ever
The Swamp twice 1st when Brightwell scored his 30 yard beauty, in the paddock behind the dugout it was full of Blues and we all went mental when it went in, got abuse and gobbed on but too many Blues for the RAGS to have a pop at us, 2nd when Hendry scored the own goal (the press like to think that RAG tosser scored on his debut) so nowt to jump up for on that occasion!
Luton twice no trouble.
Luton twice no trouble.
Paul Lake's Left Knee
Well-Known Member
BOMBER7967 said:The Swamp twice 1st when Brightwell scored his 30 yard beauty, in the paddock behind the dugout it was full of Blues and we all went mental when it went in, got abuse and gobbed on but too many Blues for the RAGS to have a pop at us, 2nd when Hendry scored the own goal (the press like to think that RAG tosser scored on his debut) so nowt to jump up for on that occasion!
Luton twice no trouble.
Most of us did Luton at some point, we werent really there though ;-)
Stevinio
Well-Known Member
Done it a few times at the swamp, and they say it's hard to get a ticket! Last one was the munichfest last year. It was great being able to join in with the cockneys to abuse and boo the rags for playing so shit. It was funny as fuck. The missus (she's a rag) wasn't happy.
Been in the main stand at Blackburn, Holt end at villa, gallowgate at toon, Kop at Anfield, kicked out of port vale to name a few. I'm reasonably good at keeping quiet but a few times the emotion has taken over!
Been in the main stand at Blackburn, Holt end at villa, gallowgate at toon, Kop at Anfield, kicked out of port vale to name a few. I'm reasonably good at keeping quiet but a few times the emotion has taken over!
DancingBadger
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- 3 Jan 2009
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- 93
Hmmm, done this a few times, never very pleasant, and wouldn't do it again, it's just not enjoyable, but I have a memory to share which might amuse ....
27 April, 1974. I was just 17. I could only get a ticket for the Stretford End (although by all accounts it got pretty hairy in the Scoreboard). I went with a mate, Dave - I've long since lost touch with him. We'd been in the Manchester Arms before the game (for those under about 40, it was on Corporation St by Victoria Station, and a popular spot for a pint - it had lunchtime strippers) and Dave had got into a Guinness drinking competition with an Irish red called Francis, and lost - heavily. He was much the worse for wear.
Into the bear pit, scarves down the front of our jeans - did we look odd with no colours and apparently huge knackers? Nobody said anything, nobody looked at us, although I felt as though I had a big blue neon arrow pointing at the top of my head with "Blue" written on it.
We found a spot in the middle of the terrace, about half way up, behind the goal - good spot. Part way through the first half, the news comes over the PA that Birmingham were losing. You may recall, if Birmingham lost, and the rags beat us, they could escape the drop. This news made the reds around us a little over-excited, and there was a lot of pushing and shoving and getting carried yards down the terrace which was a feature of football back in the day.
Somewhere amongst all this pushing and shoving, Dave was thrust against the crush barrier. He was not a happy bunny, and in his foetidly inebriated state, elected, to my utter and lasting horror, to share his unhappiness with those around us. He turned slowly and majestically (he was a big lad, was Dave) spread his arms out wide, and addressed the assembled red slime, thousands of the ugly swine, as follows,
"Come on then you red bastards, we'll have you all on!"
Those were his exact words, they are imprinted into my brain, I can still hear him saying it in my head, and it still gives me the heebie-jeebies. I couldn't believe it, I still can't believe it, and if I'm honest, I have no real idea how I got out in one piece to tell this story. I'm not ashamed to admit that I have never been so scared in my life as I was at that moment.
But I think maybe the reason we got away with it is that nobody else believed it either - I don't think any of the rags actually believed that a blue would stand in the Stretford End on derby day, on his own (I was trying very hard to look like I wasn't with him!) and say something like that. Nobody could be that stupid, surely. Did they think he was just another red, and was messing about? Was it just that nobody really heard him properly - it was pretty noisy in there? In any event, nobody said anything, nobody did anything.
When Denis Law scored, you won't be surprised to read that I didn't celebrate. What I actually did was grip Dave extremely firmly by the arm, firmly enough that he's probably still got the marks, and hiss into his ear something along the lines of, "Shut it, just shut the fuck up!" Fortunately, he had sobered a little and kept quiet. If there were any other blues in there, they kept quiet too.
Not an experience I would ever want to repeat, probably the most nerve-wracking experience I've ever had, but, at the end of the day - result!
27 April, 1974. I was just 17. I could only get a ticket for the Stretford End (although by all accounts it got pretty hairy in the Scoreboard). I went with a mate, Dave - I've long since lost touch with him. We'd been in the Manchester Arms before the game (for those under about 40, it was on Corporation St by Victoria Station, and a popular spot for a pint - it had lunchtime strippers) and Dave had got into a Guinness drinking competition with an Irish red called Francis, and lost - heavily. He was much the worse for wear.
Into the bear pit, scarves down the front of our jeans - did we look odd with no colours and apparently huge knackers? Nobody said anything, nobody looked at us, although I felt as though I had a big blue neon arrow pointing at the top of my head with "Blue" written on it.
We found a spot in the middle of the terrace, about half way up, behind the goal - good spot. Part way through the first half, the news comes over the PA that Birmingham were losing. You may recall, if Birmingham lost, and the rags beat us, they could escape the drop. This news made the reds around us a little over-excited, and there was a lot of pushing and shoving and getting carried yards down the terrace which was a feature of football back in the day.
Somewhere amongst all this pushing and shoving, Dave was thrust against the crush barrier. He was not a happy bunny, and in his foetidly inebriated state, elected, to my utter and lasting horror, to share his unhappiness with those around us. He turned slowly and majestically (he was a big lad, was Dave) spread his arms out wide, and addressed the assembled red slime, thousands of the ugly swine, as follows,
"Come on then you red bastards, we'll have you all on!"
Those were his exact words, they are imprinted into my brain, I can still hear him saying it in my head, and it still gives me the heebie-jeebies. I couldn't believe it, I still can't believe it, and if I'm honest, I have no real idea how I got out in one piece to tell this story. I'm not ashamed to admit that I have never been so scared in my life as I was at that moment.
But I think maybe the reason we got away with it is that nobody else believed it either - I don't think any of the rags actually believed that a blue would stand in the Stretford End on derby day, on his own (I was trying very hard to look like I wasn't with him!) and say something like that. Nobody could be that stupid, surely. Did they think he was just another red, and was messing about? Was it just that nobody really heard him properly - it was pretty noisy in there? In any event, nobody said anything, nobody did anything.
When Denis Law scored, you won't be surprised to read that I didn't celebrate. What I actually did was grip Dave extremely firmly by the arm, firmly enough that he's probably still got the marks, and hiss into his ear something along the lines of, "Shut it, just shut the fuck up!" Fortunately, he had sobered a little and kept quiet. If there were any other blues in there, they kept quiet too.
Not an experience I would ever want to repeat, probably the most nerve-wracking experience I've ever had, but, at the end of the day - result!
Done it a few times when we've got tickets through corporate, so I tried not to go mad. However for the Mydtilland game in europe last year we only got tickets on the morning of the game from some other blues at the airport. We were in the away end but right next to the City fans, so much so that we went to the City fans at half time for a chat. When the goal went in in the last minute we went mad, along with about 200 other blues in our bit!
chestervegasblue
Well-Known Member
Was in the director's box at the Swamp this season with my dad and his mate. There were 5 blues behind us and 2 in front we went absolutely mental when Bellers scored his goals. No trouble, none of the stewards even said anything. Just shows how plastic they all are!
Back in the 70's there was no segregation, so you had to be careful wherever you went, some grounds more than others. You were always in the home section when you went away!
In the early or mid 80's I went to watch Portsmouth v City and managed to get myself in the home end behind the goal. I did'nt realise this until I was standing at the 'Refreshment Stall' and asked for whatever it was I asked for, and sudenly became aware of many faces turning in my direction! My northern accent, you see.
Anyway, nothing happened, but the game started and I found myself standing amongst some of the most lunatic fans in the country. I'm not saying I was'nt that bothered, I just thought as long as I keep my mouth shut, I should be OK.
City got a penalty late in the game, which was scored, and the City fans on the open terrace opposite were going mental. The Portsmouth fans surrouding me were going mental, as well, and I can tell you now I don't think I have exercised such self control in my life.
My head was down, and I kept telling myself over and over again 'don't react'.
I did it once, never again.
In the early or mid 80's I went to watch Portsmouth v City and managed to get myself in the home end behind the goal. I did'nt realise this until I was standing at the 'Refreshment Stall' and asked for whatever it was I asked for, and sudenly became aware of many faces turning in my direction! My northern accent, you see.
Anyway, nothing happened, but the game started and I found myself standing amongst some of the most lunatic fans in the country. I'm not saying I was'nt that bothered, I just thought as long as I keep my mouth shut, I should be OK.
City got a penalty late in the game, which was scored, and the City fans on the open terrace opposite were going mental. The Portsmouth fans surrouding me were going mental, as well, and I can tell you now I don't think I have exercised such self control in my life.
My head was down, and I kept telling myself over and over again 'don't react'.
I did it once, never again.
Bobinho
Well-Known Member
Sat in the home end when we played Blackpool in the cup when Andy Morrison was playing for Blackpool and kicked lumps out of our players