The old days

By and large, I've been travelling to games for over 50 years, and predominantly with the same group of mates. Indeed the day I lose the pre match anticipation and camaraderie, (whilst arguing over the quickest route to the ground) will be the day I stop going.

I've always believed that when we yearn for the old days, we're really yearning for our youth, and our first experience of the collective emotional bliss that only football can bring.
Similar to music, yet almost the opposite when so many opponents are simultaneously suffering on the other side of the fence.

Of course we recognise their pain, because we've been there. We've suffered far worse, and for longer periods, albeit some dark moments become funnier with the passing of time:

John Hawley scoring a hat trick for Sunderland: the countless SWALES OUT demonstrations: the all yellow away kit at Highbury: 4-0 and 6-0 defeats at the Baseball Ground: the Eric Nixon Red Card v Palace: Michael Hughes missing a penalty in the last minute: losing 2-1 at St Andrews after taking the lead in the 90th minute: Steve Lomas time wasting when we desperately needed another goal: 3-0 down after 30 minutes at Stockport.

Now it's our turn to laugh at Zebra Pants and MIGHT AS WELL BE CELTIC

Fuck em
 
The bogs on the Kippax stunk. You could smell them from the terracing.
It was the river running along the middle that was the worst. Would splash over the edge of your shoes and if you needed more than a pee you were in trouble with one bog on the end from memory which you used at your peril.
 
It was the river running along the middle that was the worst. Would splash over the edge of your shoes and if you needed more than a pee you were in trouble with one bog on the end from memory which you used at your peril.
One habit I got into back in the day was having a dump the night before or on the morning of a match because of the state of the Maine Rd bogs. Oh, and no Westler's hot dogs, which were probably accurately named.
 
One habit I got into back in the day was having a dump the night before or on the morning of a match because of the state of the Maine Rd bogs. Oh, and no Westler's hot dogs, which were probably accurately named.
Had to leave a game rather than use the bogs on the last occasion I needed a dump at maine road, Newcastle league cup game in the 90s, think Rosler had just scored and had been on a full days session with pre match curry. and could hold out no longer. Headed straight for nearest pub at pace rather than risk that toilet. The younger fans don't know how we suffered.
 
Some people enjoy the old fish wives tales more than they actually enjoy football.

Do they come away from these negative conversations and rants feeling energized & happy, or do they feel angry and depressed?

It's worth reflecting on these motivations, and how it impacts on others.
 
The olden days are all well and good, I watched a re-run of the '99 playoff final on sky yesterday with the 17 year old This! Chap. The dikov moment...
The aguero moment.
The Gundo moment.
The gundo 13 seconds.
Rodri in Istanbul...

Loved the olden days, fucking love now...
 

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