Contested Ground #2

Introduction

By Phil Chokeword This zine is really late. Which is such a standard way to open an introduction to a zine its basically a given – and also implies that everyone is sat around, desperately checking their Facebook feeds every ten minutes and waiting for a Post to appear saying issue 2 is finally in print. Which I’d suggest is probably not the case. But still, the vague plan was that this issue would be out some when in the second half of the 2015-16 season. Meh. In a sentence, real life is to blame for my general tardiness, alongside a general funk around if I wanted to make something I’d have to consider selling. Let’s move on.

Happy 2016-17.

This zine remains a collection of stories written by punks, hardcore kids and fellow travellers about football and their complex relationship with it. I’ve never been one for train spotting when it comes to trying to engage with football; for me, it’s the stories that are interesting, not an encyclopaedic knowledge of minutiae that you can use in a pissing contest to make yourself feel better.

Half the time, Jon will talk to me about a game I’ve been to and watched with him in a previous season, and assuming I remember anything, it’s the drama around it or something dumb that happened along the way. So I remember getting off the bus at Norwich and watching people take photos of Carrow Road across a comically bleak industrial landscape, just as I remember laughing at how painful the innuendos were in Tossed at the servo on the way. I can remember meeting my godfather in the tea queue and talking about records, but I don’t remember much about the game, except we lost and something about Mane being shit.

I make this point because it’s kind of a statement of intent. This is a football zine but it’s as much about supporter culture, about the experiences and opinions of ordinary people sat in bucket seats and stood on terraces as it is anything else. This is our culture in the same way that DIY hardcore punk is our culture. We don’t own it but we contribute to it and it’s the experiences and stories of thousands of us that make it what it is. Just as punk is a lot less interesting when it’s reduced to just a product to be consumed, football is diminished when you take away the history and culture, agency and dynamism of the supporters.

Of course, you could argue that some football teams ultimately want you to know your place and to fuck off and buy an overpriced half time tea - but I don’t think that’s completely their choice to make. Which is why, despite all the

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delays and all the will-I-won’t-I’s, I find myself sat in on a Friday night trying to put this together.

Of course, this statement is also another way of dealing with the responsibility of editing and putting out another football zine. Who the fuck am I? No one, just a bloke with a season ticket and a laptop. I feel awkward sometimes, like I somehow don’t know enough, like I’ve not been to enough games, like those years when I was pre-occupied by other things somehow discredit my opinions. Certainly, in the stat-quoting-boring-pub-twat stakes, your plume of urine is always going to be higher than mine. Well done, I hope you spray yourself in the eye.

But... For all the punks trying to navigate the paradoxes of being anticorporate and into football - for anyone whose club crest sits on their Harry jacket next to a band pin - I hope you get something out of this zine about our experiences.

Phil Chokeword – October 2016 PS: I had every intention of making this look old school as fuck and laying the text out cut and paste over some old ticket stubs and photos. But basically, I had too much content I wanted to include so I had to opt for a cleaner look. I’m not sorry about this – I’m really pleased to put out something sizable to read whilst not breaking my tiny budget – but I do miss doing layouts by hand.

Maybe next time.

CG#2: Andy Davies // Ben Smith // Jonatan Wilderness// Marv Gadgie // Mr T // Phil Chokeword // Simon Gaunt // Smithy // All photos/layouts by Phil except - FC United of Manchester by Andy Davies // Babelsberg 03 by Simon Gaunt // front cover by Smithy // cover lay out by Jonatan Wilderness // More: cgzine [dot] blogspot [dot] co [dot] uk // Up the punx

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The Worst Away Game ... Ever

By Marv Gadgie Now then gadgie, Driving back from Nottingham and passing between the two football grounds, a well worn path, that many years ago was the scene of probably the most disastrous footy trip I have ever been on always raises a grin. Picture the scene, the home time bell goes on Friday, and excited Boro mad scamps run home for an early night, as we are going to an away game tomorrow. Our loyalty is taking us to shout on the mighty Middlesbrough at Notts County for a top of the table clash in the old second division. Travelling down on the travel club bus the next day the excitement mounts. We had to go on the official supporters club bus as we were but mere bairns, so none of us had a car, and our mam’s wouldn’t let us go on our own. There’s something special about an away game - the partisan home crowd who outnumber you and the feeling of following your team to another town is something that always gives me a thrill.

So, nearing Nottingham all was going well, until that is we had a crash. Some dozy bugger had stopped at the side of the road for a waz and our bus had to swerve outside it to go past. Sadly for the car on the other side of the road this meant a head on collision. Oops. Now, I was sat in the middle seat at the back, and my mate Towser was kneeling up on the seat in front. The impact sent me up and over his seat careering in to the poor lad. We landed in the aisle, with me on top of him and his bag that he was just opening. Fortunately, nobody was hurt in the calamity but we all had to get off the bus and wait at the side of the road. All the other Boro buses carried on Notts-wards leaving us anxiously to wait as a bus from Nottingham (I think) came to pick us up. We arrived ten minutes late and can you believe it(?) they hadn’t even held up the game for us. Arse. It was a cracking game, and would have been even better if Ian Baird hadn’t blazed that last minute penalty over the bar. Boro went down 3-2 and the Ayresome Angels headed back to Teesside.

Except us.

Of course.

We were stood outside the ground long after everyone else had dispersed, as we had to wait for a new bus that had started driving down from Middlesbrough to collect us an hour after the crash or something. Daley, the fall guy in our tale, and in many more to be fair to the lad, (he was the chap involved in the infamous “Porn Tennis and Naked Yoga” incident) was caught short and looked for some suitable place for a piss, so sneaked off down what he thought was a quiet alley to answer natures call. At the other end however 3

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appeared the one and only Ian Baird, the bustling Boro front man, who was our hero, despite missing that flipping penna. With shouts of “Hey! Look it’s Bairdy!” the group of stranded supporters all ran to the top of the alley and started cheering. Daley turned around, wondering what was going on, and faced the sight of fifty odd Boro fans clapping and cheering, apparently at him, as he stood with his wanger in his hand turning a shade of red that matched his Boro top. Ian Baird walked passed and gave him a cheeky “Alright” coupled with a titter. The fun didn’t end there. Towser, who was now most hungry was getting right on our tits, telling us how much he was looking forward to his egg sangers when we got on the bus. At last the bus arrived and we all piled on. Upon opening his bag, Tow was met with a heart sinking sight. His egg sarnies where now wafer thin as he remembered his bag taking the full force of me and him flying through the air. A pancake flat slice of kitchen foil, with a huge arse crack imprint in was not as appetising as he had initially hoped. Of course, half way home on the new bus, the blummin’ thing broke down. Of ruddy course it did. Again a bus set off from Teesside and picked us up somewhere on the hard shoulder.

So we pulled up alongside the East End of Ayresome Park at some ridiculous hour of Sunday morning, long after everyone else had returned home and gone to the pub to talk about missed chances and the size of midfield psycho Trevor Putney’s chobber (massive, legend has it). We were offered a refund or free travel to Cambridge the next week. I opted for the dosh, not wishing to risk the bus of doom again, which in hindsight was the right decision as we lost 2-0. Driving through that area of Nottingham nowadays always brings a smile to my face, as I look forward to a foray into the record shops and a belly busting meal at Annie’s Burger Bar, thinking to myself “That’s where Ian Baird saw my mates nob!” In later years I actually saw some bloke getting a blow job against the Jimmy Sirrel stand, now that would be summat to write about. . .

FC United Of Manchester

By Andy Davies I’ve been going to FC United of Manchester for a few years now and it really is a unique club. FC was formed by disgruntled Manchester United fans as a response to the Glazers mismanagement of the club, as a way to challenge commercial football and as an attempt to do football in a different/better way.

The club is fan owned, with a one member, one vote system. FC does absolutely loads for the local community, challenges the many negative aspects of modern football and attempts to make football affordable and viable for everyone. But I guess if you are reading a fanzine like this, you probably know quite a lot of this already.

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So when I was asked to write an article about my experiences at the club I didn’t really know where to start. It would be easy to write something about how the club started, or how fans came together to build an amazing ground through a community shares scheme, but these things have been covered by many writers and even in the mainstream media. My next thought was to write something about how the club challenges prejudice within football and how the atmosphere at the ground reflects this, but again it’s an area which has been covered by many writers. Check out the FC United fanzine, ‘A Fine Lung’. It is well worth a read. I then considered writing about the connections between FC and the DIY punk rock scene. The club often has a ‘gig before the game’ and my band has been lucky enough to have played that twice. It’s another thing that makes the club so unique and it’s not just punk music. All sorts of diverse sounds could be heard emanating from Starkey’s bar (aptly renamed ‘Course You Can Malcolm’ for FC games), when we were still using Bury’s Gigg Lane ground and hopefully that will continue at either the Miner’s Club or under the stand at our new ground. Former darlings of the NME, Wu Lyf once graced the event, as did folk singer, Josephine Oniyama and apparently there has also been a harp player. These nods of recognition from the world of music all hint at what makes FC so special. But I’ve had the honour of writing the match day programme notes on two occasions and both times I discussed the parallels between my experiences with punk rock, compared to my experiences of FC United; a true ‘punk’ football club. So I didn’t really want to rehash something I’ve written before. Next I considered writing about how FC had endeared itself to an alternative crowd, including punks and anarchists and how many non-Manchester United fans who simply align with the clubs ethics have started going to games. This has caused a split in opinion with some fans. There are some die hard Manchester United fans, who want FC to be the Manchester United they have taken back for their community and you totally have to respect that stance. However, at the same time, a club run in the way FC is, will clearly not just have left wingers on the pitch, but in great numbers on the terraces too (see what I did there…). Most supporters I know see this growth in the fan base of the club as a huge positive, but I guess it highlights that not everyone involved with the club will agree on everything. The fact that there is a platform for debate about these issues is surely an enormous positive. And not everything is cut and dry when you try and do things the ‘right’ way. So that, finally, brings me on to what I decided to actually write about.

On 9th November, FC’s first round game in the FA cup against Chesterfield was somewhat controversially moved to a Monday night so that BT Sport could televise it. As I stood outside the ground, boycotting the first half action (no huge loss football wise, we got destroyed by a far superior Chesterfield side) in the freezing cold alongside 3/400 others who had made the same decision, I began to contemplate just how important everything about FC 6

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actually was. And I also realised just how difficult the challenge of questioning modern football actually is. We stood there expecting a barrage of criticism that would inevitably come our way and discussed how difficult it was going to be to achieve some of the clubs goals, but at the same time, just how important it was to have a voice within the sport that doesn’t just accept the way football is run.

Not everyone protested by standing outside the ground. Many bought tickets but boycotted the whole game (after all our ticket money still goes into a club we actually own). The final attendance was far lower than the number of tickets sold. Others stayed in pubs for the first half; an option which I imagine was quite a lot warmer. Others decided that cheering the team on was more important, so instead sang anti BT songs inside the ground for BT to broadcast (something that increased significantly in the second half). For me personally, whilst I 100% respect everyone’s choices and wouldn’t want anyone feeling pressured into a protest they were uncomfortable with, as a member of a trade union, I couldn’t cross what some described as a picket line. I also knew where the atmosphere would be best and that was Under the Boardwalk.

To give a little context to this story, FC have always maintained that wherever possible games should be played on a Saturday afternoon, making football accessible to as many people as possible. I’m sure we’ve all seen examples in the top tiers of football where a club has had to play at the opposite end of the country on a weekday, making it impossible for fans to travel or meaning that people have to take time off work to support their team. This has become ‘just the way it is’ for so many football fans, but it’s clearly not a good thing for people who actually go to matches. Issues such as childcare, working hours and actual logistics of travelling all come into play. I’m totally aware that in the lower leagues there will very often be matches called off due to weather during the winter period or issues with ground shares that mean midweek fixtures are sometimes unavoidable. But moving games for TV seems to be something that is avoidable, particularly in a competition such as the FA Cup, where a non-league team can be drawn against a bigger club and it could be their biggest ever fixture. Surely the FA should be making these games as accessible to loyal fans (especially those who support grassroots/lower league football and who may well ordinarily attend every match) as possible, rather than pandering to an armchair audience?

As I mentioned earlier, we expected to get a lot of criticism for our protest from FC Fans themselves (I’ll come to that later), from the media and from other football fans. The Guardian comments page was particularly fun. “If this club is supposed to be Manchester United they should be used to games being moved for TV…”. Brilliant. The most common criticism I saw was “well, you’re 8

not turning down the money are you?”. This is a somewhat irrelevant point in many ways. If FC was just about money, they would have taken many more shortcuts already. This is a not-for-profit club. Of course the money is useful, but the way in which FC has been developed as a club has been ridiculously difficult. If it was just about profiteering there would be many easier routes to make money more quickly (check the club ethos online). The club actually took a vote to see if members/owners wanted to enter the FA Cup, knowing that there would be difficult decisions to make due to the competitions rules (one of which being matches moved for TV). The vote resulted in a decision to enter, but for many the yes vote was with the caveat that the competitions rules could still be protested. The club had already challenged the competitions minimum first round ticket price of £10 (as fans had voted to cap all FC games at £9). Obviously it’s only a pound, but it’s the principle. There was a plan to give everyone who paid in £1 back in food/drink vouchers to counteract the extra charge, but eventually concessions were made. I’ve heard some fans saying that they believe that the FA deliberately moved the game to a Monday to put the ‘small club full of trouble makers in their place’.

I’m not saying that’s what I think, we’ll probably never know, but when the Monday fixture was announced the club did request that it be moved to an alternative day. That request was turned down. So it was left to the fans to make their protests heard.

There was recently an extensive club survey to gauge fans thoughts on every aspect of the running of FC United. One area which was particularly unanimous was that if a game did have to be moved for whatever reason, a Monday would be the worst possible day. I’ve seen people arguing that Chesterfield is not too far from Manchester, so it shouldn’t cause too much disruption to fans, but what if it had been a team from much further away?

Again it sets a precedent. After so unanimously saying as a group of supporters that we didn’t want a game being moved to a Monday, especially for TV, how could we not make a stance about this?

I do actually enjoy watching football on TV and until more football is easily accessible to all I feel that TV coverage is a good way to get young supporters watching games, but to move a game with a non-league side to the most inconvenient day possible, so that armchair fans who don’t support either club can watch it, turns football into the sporting equivalent of The X Factor for me.

“Will this plucky underdog get through to the next round? Oh they didn’t, I don’t really care… did I really miss Eastenders for that…” Grassroots football is worth so much more than this and I certainly don’t just mean FC United.

There are amazing clubs and supporters everywhere.

What we have here are actual communities based around a club. People who socialise together and people who win and lose together and something like 9

that should be at the heart of a community. This is something really important and it is lost to an extent in the modern game. That’s something I feel is really sad. Football should not just be about TV, money and as daft as it sounds, winning. The problems with the way in which football is run epitomise many wider issues in society in general. The powers that be in the game cannot relate to the fans, particularly not those at grass roots level and that is not good.

So, we stood singing FC songs outside the ground for 45 minutes. Estimates at the time were that there were 3-400 people. Obviously the media reduced that estimate to as low as 50 in some instances (I’ve been on enough protests to know that is inevitable). It was good to see so many familiar faces, many of whom I knew from the ‘gigs before the game’. I don’t think there is any coincidence that the people who supported that musical strand of the club were some of the first to take up their spot outside the ground. There was a great atmosphere even without the match. We knew we were losing, but at half time we entered the ground, swelling the capacity significantly for the cameras and then supported the team more passionately than ever, whilst also making it clear that BT Sport were not welcome (they had to apologise on air for some of the songs; punk as fuck eh?). We were comprehensively beaten, but as with so many things related to FC, the result was somewhat irrelevant, it was the wider implications of the protest that were important. It will still go down as one of my most memorable FC experiences.

And the next day the expected criticism rolled in. Some was from other FC fans. “We are getting a reputation as trouble makers”, “You should have supported the team”, etc, etc. I’ve seen people outside the club dismissing our protest because “we can’t even agree within our club”, which seems laughable to me. What, a load of largely left wing thinkers can’t agree on the specifics of how we should protest? Surely not? For me the fact that we have a platform to debate (and disagree) about these issues, whilst still largely moving in the same direction and making compromises is one of the very best things about FC United. Then there were the inevitable comments from the wider football community; “attention seekers”, “an embarrassment”, “bringing politics into football”, etc, etc. Those are probably best ignored I guess. Then there were the more upsetting ones. The ones that were sympathetic to the problems we were protesting, but accepted the inevitability of defeat. “It’s just the way it is and you won’t change it” or “it’s shit for all clubs, so why do you think you are above conforming to the rules”. The sort of race to the bottom comments you could compare to those of people who have accepted that The Conservative Party are shitting on us from a great height. Yet another example of football reflecting attitudes of wider society.

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I learnt a lot that night. It was reiterated to me that if you do anything that others consider to be slightly radical, such as a protest, however ethical your stance, you will be massively criticised and you will struggle to explain your stance to people outside of that viewpoint. It also reconfirmed that even people fighting for the same outcome will not always agree, but it is important to have that platform for debate. And it really highlighted how in many ways football culture could be considered a microcosm of other issues in society.

But the thing it really hammered home is that after spending the last 15 years of my life in Manchester, there is no other club I can support. I have been inspired by a club that echoes many of my wider views about the world and standing outside Broadhurst Park that night was a really important thing to do.

We all choose to live our lives in certain ways. The group of people I attend FC games with are involved with DIY punk, not-for-profit and benefit events/festivals, small labels and bands who tour playing in small venues. We avoid mainstream music culture, so why would we buy into mainstream football culture? FC has given us the chance to support football in a way that fits in with our other life choices and whatever difficult decisions the club has to make along the way (the more successful we become, the more difficult it will be), we can be safe in the knowledge that we are trying to make a difference to both football culture and the world around us. Even if we ultimately fail, that is a wonderful thing.

West Ham

By Mr T - Lights Go Out Being a West Ham fan has never been the easiest over the years. We’ve never really been a club who win titles or cups, hell not even as many games as I would like us too. But the club I have supported all my life have always been there for me and have provided me with some of my favourite and of course my saddest memories.

Obviously life is full of moments and memories. Like for instance I will never forget becoming a parent for the first and second time. And soon for the third time which I’m sure will also be super memorable. But it’s amazing how many of my memories end up being football related, whether they’re good or bad.

I was at a bit of a loss as what to write for this amazing zine and in the end thought I’d recollect some of my memories of good and bad times throughout my 30+ years of Hammer fandom.

I vaguely recall my first ever match, which Google tells me was on 1st Oct 1979. Southend away, my Dad took me and I remember not much apart from 11

being totally enthralled by the floodlights. I think my Dad was always pretty disappointed I never opted to support the same team as him, his heart was probably broken the day I said I was a West Ham fan. My Dad is Leyton Orient but in my family he would be the odd one out amongst the rest of us Hammers.

Memories of games are odd through my childhood years. My Dad was a good sport and did take me to a fair few games along with plenty of Leyton Orient ones, I think he was always hoping that I might change my allegiance at some point. Memories of the West Ham club shop as a kid, which was literally a shoddy port-a-cabin you could hardly move in out the front of the entrance to the ground. Where of course I wanted everything and moaned at my old man to buy me stuff. The same happens nowadays to me, but my daughters want glitzy stationary, not photos of players like Tony Cottee, Frank McAvennie or Phil Parkes.

But some of the more memorable incidents have happened in my more adult years and generally ended up involving going to matches with a friend of my dad’s, Paul.

Now Paul is a proper top chap, West Ham through and through. Sadly when I was just a kid Paul had a pretty horrific motorbike accident and is paralysed in his lower body. A season ticket holder still, this means that Paul is expected to take a carer with him to games, who gets in for free with the season ticket.

On occasions when Paul’s partner cannot make it I have been able to head to games I would not have been able to attend and enjoy some football. Most of the incidents involve games I have been at with Paul. Now, I’m not saying he gets us into trouble, because to be fair it’s not always his fault, a lot of the time it’s down to poorly designed stadium or stewards who haven’t got a flippin clue what they’re doing. I definitely can’t blame him for the time we had Millwall at home a cup match and there was a pitch invasion. Well we got locked in the stadium for safety and couldn’t get out as they’d shut off all the electricity to the elevators, which means wheelchairs were stuck and going nowhere. This did mean we missed all the commotion outside. Which was probably a pretty good thing to be honest.

I can still remember the first time I really saw Paul go raring off on one at football. We’d travelled down to Southampton away. Now my memory may be a bit off here but I am pretty sure this was the first game when Glenn Hoddle was in charge of Southampton, must have been around 2000.

Anyways, this was of course after Hoddle’s comments about how people who are disabled must have been sinners in their former life. Well let’s just say Paul and his mates had positioned themselves right next to the tunnel the players walk out of at what was The Dell. Hoddle comes out and let’s just say 12

I definitely learnt a few new words that day! We had stewards pushing us away, trying to get everyone to behave. I fully supported Paul on what he did that day I can tell you but for me the main issue was some of the language used as there were kids around and you can see it was worrying for some of the parents there. But we won on the day 3-2 and let’s just say Paul gave Hoddle some more stick as he disappeared down the tunnel at the end of the match.

Then there was the time we went to Stamford Bridge. At the time we weren’t in the Premiership and had drawn Chelsea in the cup. So the fools at Chelsea seem to think it’s a great idea to stick disabled away fans in with the home fans. So there we there, sat surrounded by people in blue shirts and with it being a passionate game between London rivals I’m not quite sure what they were expecting. I can remember it well. I know we lost but there was one massive highlight for us Hammers that day. I am sure most football fans are aware that there is absolutely no love lost between West Ham fans and Frank Lampard Jr. His old man is a legend! But his son, well let’s just say we don’t think very much of him. So when Chelsea got a penalty and he stepped up to take it obviously we all dreamed he’d miss. This is the moment that goalkeeper Jimmy Walker became an instant legend for us! As Lampard struck the penalty, low and hard to his left, it cannoned of a diving Jimmy Walker and ballooned out of the area! He’d only bloody saved it! We of course went mental with delight and in turn this riled up the Chelsea fans we were sat with. Well before the stewards could do anything there were punches flying between Paul and a couple of Chelsea fans, I had to pull him off before the stewards came over and calmed the situation down. Crazy times, but still Lampard missed a penalty! I repeat, Lampard missed the penalty!

Villa away was the same, we got stuck in with the Villa fans and we had a shocker on the pitch that day. I think it was the opening match of the season and we got done 3-0. Winston Reid made his debut and just looked like a bloody amateur that day, glad to say he’s drastically improved since. The display on the pitch had incensed Paul and again there was constant banter between him and some Villa fans in front of us and yep once again blows were traded.

Oh yeah, the time we were bloody lucky we didn’t get a hiding. So we’d decided to do the Millwall away thing. Now people know how much the fans of West Ham and Millwall don’t get along. So we ventured into their territory and made the decision not to wear our claret and blue on show that day. We park up and get into the ground. The West Ham fans are all up on the top tier, with the bottom one being left empty, that is apart from Paul and me. Who are sent to the very front in full view of the Millwall fans and Paul has stuck his 13

claret and blue hat on to keep his bald head warm for the next 90 plus minutes. Of course the fans spend more time goading each other than they do watching the match (which I am sure we lost sadly). There’s coin chucking galore, Dennis Wise gets involved and picks all the coins up, handing them to some kid in the Millwall end. But then at the end of the game the stewards hold the away fans for a bit, which is customary expect for us. They usher us out of the stadium and then we see there is a huge fence and a couple of rows of police to ensure that the two sets of fans don’t mix and start something. But these clever stewards have only gone and bloody stuck us in the wrong side, two of us in with the Millwall fans. You have never seen me move so fast as to rip Paul’s hat off his head and shove it in my pocket before we got spotted.

I feel like that was definitely a narrow escape that day for sure!

I did say there were good memories as well as just potential violence related ones. With West Ham you get the good and the bad. We went to two successive play off finals in Cardiff. The first one saw us lose and that really hurt. We also got locked in the stadium as we’d parked there and were unable to leave until the team coaches have left. Pardew got it wrong that day big time and to be stuck wallowing in that stadium was not a nice thing. Even if I did get to have a chat to local sports legend Andy Steggal.

But the year later was amazing as we won the play off final. A goal from Bobby Zamora saw us beat Preston and as that goal went in, right down in front of the end we were in, the crowd went mental. We seemed to surge forward about 5 or six rows, which was crazy considering it was seated and I bumped into a mate of mine during the celebrations called Daz. Incidentally to tie this up nicely, Daz used to play in a metalcore band local to me called Stegel. And yes, they were named after Andy Steggal who I’d seen at the play off final the year before. Cracking day out that one was I can tell you!

The year later, the 2006 FA Cup final. I was amazed we’d even got this far to make the final. Sadly we’d booked a holiday and there was no way I was being allowed to cancel it or try to rearrange it. So I made sure to check the complex had a bar and would be showing the match, which they were. I ensured we left in more than enough time to get there, get booked in, unload the car and for me to get to the bar to watch the match. This was back in the days when I did drink alcohol and I settled in with a small child and the ex to watch what was bound to be a Liverpool victory. But damn we gave it a good go that day. Yes we lost on penalties but what a match, we came so close. I don’t really recall the 1980 FA Cup win very well being 3 and a half and not sure I’ll ever see us win the FA Cup. But trust me that day I cried my eyes out with a mixture of sadness but also pride at what the team had achieved to get that far and be so close.

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It feels that in life friendships, loves, people they come and go. But your team are always there for you. Through the good and the bad times. It’s been a rocky relationship that’s for sure, but my love has never been lost. And it never will be.

Half Time [An Open Letter]

By Jonatan Wilderness “Inside the stadium, for most of the crowd, the eating options are little different from the 1980’s: long queues; fizzy drinks, tea and a variety of bad instant coffees; chocolate bars, crisps and bags of sweets; worrying pale hot dogs.

Resistant to innovation, impervious to the arguments of the healthy eating lobby, stadium food is perhaps the one element of match day that has stubbornly resisted the tide of change. The emblematic football snack remains the meat pie...” – David Goldbatt, The Games of our Lives: The Meaning and Making of English Football Hello there.

I'm Jon.... A human entity who carries with him a season ticket. I've been in touch before actually, regarding a similar subject. I had a brief back and forth which, in all honesty, didn't amount to much in the way of change. I don't expect earth shattering results or to be taken seriously. One has to have realistic expectations I find in dealing with what is essentially a large corporation.

I'd also like to add that I'm not one of those people who goes to restaurants and complains about micro-follicles on a plate of food, or who makes disgusted noises if someone blows their nose within a 1 mile radius. What I am is someone who ploughs what to me is a substantial amount of money per year into an institution that I care about, and hope that in turn that 'care' is in some way reciprocated.

My email to you today is in regards to my feelings about 1) the efficiency of your match day staff and 2) the ethics regarding your food and beverage.

Starting with No.1, and bearing in mind that my experience in this respect is limited to the [xxxxxx] stand and beverage section. My feeling is that you have been having problems with the speed and efficiency of service and the quality of that service for years now. You implemented an app a year or two ago that was designed to 'pre-order' food and drink and pick it up at HT. This clearly didn't work, and I think I know why it didn't work and why any system that you

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try to implement won't work until you address the root of the problem: The staff.

They are not trained properly, if at all. I've been coming to the ground long enough to know that. I've also been a manager of a catering business so it irks me no end when you have a catering section that is completely reliant - and should be focused on - speed and efficiency, but doesn't achieve either.

This is not an isolated incident, this is time and time again we are greeted with an innocent looking child (poor things) who look like a rabbit in the headlights with no control over his/her arms of legs and has developed absolutely no system whatsoever for the onslaught he/she is facing. It is unfair to put people in that position without adequate training - they have one primary objective, as I see it, to get through as many people as possible in a 15min window.

Each section needs a team-leader, that person has plenty of time during the quiet periods to train the staff and teach them how to serve people quickly and efficiently. If there’s two slots available for the filling up of a tea cup with hot water, then use two hands to pump water into both cups, rather than doing one at a time. This isn't rocket science, there just needs to someone there to tell them how to do it. Not all the time, but at least until they can prove they can do the job, otherwise you're doing the fans a disservice, which in my opinion is made even worse by my next point.

The second point is the question of price. In respect of a cup of tea for example. £2. As a fellow human entity do you think that it's a fair price to charge someone for hot water and a tea bag in a cup [half filled unless you make a point of asking for a full cup – Ed]? I think personally that it's on the wrong side of an ethically fair price. I'd love to see Southampton make a stand on this kind of thing. I mean unless the water is from a Himalayan spring there's no justification for that in my opinion, on the contrary I would imagine the water is unfiltered and full of fluoride, with milk from GMO infested cattle.

It's at this point that you ask why I bother queuing up in the first place. Well, I'm stumped, you've got me there. I'm not sure anymore either, maybe I'll go grab myself a travel flask and shut up eh?

Oh, one more thing. When a fan joins an epic queue to pick up away tickets for the West Ham game and stands there for 30mins, consider updating your LED display system with something along the lines of 'Don't stand there like a sheep if you're queueing for West Ham tickets because the buggers haven't bothered to send us them yet'. Rather that than having the display informing us that the game we had just witnessed was sold out, as was the case on Sunday. Again, this is a point about efficiency. I hope you understand.

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#AMF?

By Phil Chokeword Both of my granddad’s have been Southampton FC season ticket holders since long before I was born. Now both in their 80’s, they still sit together at St Mary’s in the same row as me and Jon. Given that the issues that many supporters have with modern football, I thought it might be interesting to interview them to get the perspective of two people who had lived through different eras of the game. After all, I sometimes wonder if the past is viewed through rose tinted glasses, even though I can think of many things to be critical of in the Premier League era.

Rather than steer the conversation, challenge an answer or argue a position, I tried to ask broad, open questions and get both interviewees to just talk generally. This was so that their answers reflect where they’re coming from instead of where I’m coming from as the interviewer. I’ve tried to keep the responses as close to how they were relayed to me, with minimal editing. I also decided to mostly forgo fact checking in favour of the vagaries of memory. Hopefully you’ll find this approach insightful (I nicked it from my degree course work).

Thanks to both granddads for taking the time to let me ask them questions over a cup of tea, and my Nan for the occasional prompt.

What’s your earliest memory of football?

Granddad A: 1947. I used to go to the Dell from Marchwood with George on the bus and the buses used to be cram full with people going to the football cos there was an army camp up the road. So it was a job to get on the bus so I had to go upstream to get on the bus. So one of the earliest games I went to was West Brom and there was over 30,000 people standing at the Dell. And I got squashed – to be honest, I nearly shit myself [laughs] cos [of a] combination of nerves and getting pressed.

[I was] 11. I suppose it was [unusual to be going that young]. It was just that George, my brother in law, he used to play football. And I also used to go up to the army camp and watch some professionals that were still in the forces play football there. Well, no, [it wasn’t just George], my uncles and aunties, Uncle Fred, and my father went when he wasn’t in the navy, wasn’t sailing.

Yeah it’s been in the sort of genes all my life. I’ve been a season ticket with [your other Granddad] for 40 years. A season ticket holder, that is. Yeah [it’s a long time].

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Granddad B: Playing Arsenal, I suppose, at the old Dell in 1939. Professional football. Yeah, that’s about the – that was in the war time league. But the Saints, if you was a soldier stationed near, they took them in the team. So it were like a combination league. And then I followed them, I followed them ever since 1939 so... No, I can’t remember the result.

Is there anything you miss about football pre-Premier League?

Granddad A: Yeah the camaraderie with the opposition. You know, I can remember when it was the 1976 – well, I never went to the cup final, I went to the games just after that, and, Nottingham Forest supporters, we were standing by them, we were shaking hands, we lost but we shook hands. But now I really get disgusted when I hear “we hate Pompey! We hate Pompey!” and the venom in the supporters or so called supporters. You know, I know you got to have rivalry, it gives you a little spice to the - but I think it’s like that Aston Villa match when they’re booing the players. Well, that’s not the way to support a team.

I think the culture today is, perhaps it’s a substitute for war, I dunno, they seem to want to vent their feelings and the more it goes on, the more people that do it so it catches on, you know. In the end, little kids are [doing it].

There were hooligans [in the pre-Premier League days]. I remember one – must have been the 70’s I suppose, we played Chelsea and they came roaring out of the game and ripping off fence panels and throwing them at the crowd and so there was definitely an element, but you know, I think it was probably the yob culture of London coming down here. It certainly [was the exception not the rule].

Granddad B: There was more comradeship, and there was more local people, where as now they has [more] foreign [players] and the club got more money now so they bypass local people. That’s what I think myself, you know. [It’s more international] as a team, not produced in this country, you know. I mean, you always had people come in from the different towns, but [now there’s] not so many locals.

Your academy is for sale instead of developing, and that’s what I object to.

And I think academy people should, should give something back to the club without going to other teams. [Graduates should have a] two years contract after the academy. Providing that the home club wants that way, but the trouble is money. So that is the trouble. [The clubs see them as something to sell on], that’s how a lot of them survive, I suppose. Yeah.

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The stadiums was better and the atmosphere was better I suppose. Other than that, with the old Dell you had more of a close atmosphere. Whereas they’re all spread out now. So, I’m not so excited with it [laughs]. I did [think it was better at the Dell] yeah. Cos it were, you were on the pitch, right on the pitch.

Is there anything you don’t miss from the pre-Premier League days?

Granddad A: Well the toilets! [laughs] I don’t miss them! There used to be a queue of blokes in one toilet and the stench...

If I was younger, I’d prefer to stand. But you got to take into consideration you’ve got all age groups and once one person stands, the whole – all the people behind have got to stand. And so really I think it’s a good thing, generally speaking, to [have seating]. I do think they ought to have standing sections though.

That’s about the only thing I don’t miss, I can’t think of anything else.

Granddad B: I think the seating’s better, myself ,as if you got down the front it was all leggy, you know, and then the police if they cordoned it off, you couldn’t see through their legs [laughs]. We get a better view but I don’t think the atmosphere is as good.

What would you say is better about going to football now?

Granddad B: I think you’re seeing better players and the game is more technical now, whereas you didn’t have that in our day. Well, the managers analyse the game more than what [they used to] and you don’t always pick the same players cos they don’t suit the team that [your playing]. In the old days, you never had the many players to pick from did you? So [they picked the same team every week].

The players, yeah. I think they’re a lot better players now, but then again, we had a heavier ball and it changed the game. So we haven’t got the old lace now which when you headed it, it hurt ya [laughs]. So you haven’t got that.

I don’t think they’d ever take a corner like they do now. And you couldn’t swerve the old ball so much as what you do there now, so.... I don’t think half of them would kick it that far with the old ball. And another thing, the pitches are better now where we played a lot on mud. And the ball used to stick. [laughs] [You don’t see that any more], only in the semi-amateur, in the cup games, you know. You see it then. And when that ball, that heavy ball stuck in

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the mud, you had a job to get it out of the puddles. It’s a different type of football now. It’s fast and furious.

I don’t think [those old footballers] would be [as skilful as modern footballers under modern conditions], I don’t think they would. I think that [modern footballers] train more and they can work the ball better now than what we could. Yeah, [they’re more athletic].

Granddad A: Well the stadiums are obviously much better. The organisation in general is a lot better. There’s still areas that need improvement but I do think that the big clubs are trying to get a better rapport with the supporters, where as in the old days – perhaps that’s something I don’t miss, they used to treat you like shit, back in the – I’m not saying the likes of Ted Bates or the directors but the actual employees of the company. They used to look as though they were doing you a favour selling you a ticket. Yeah that’s it, customer service [is better], yeah.

There’s still room for improvement, but generally speaking, yeah, I do feel quite engaged with the club. Well, I was engaged with the club even in the early days, but you know, mainly it was a local club and it was more local than it is now.

Is there anything you would change about the modern era of football?

Granddad B: Well, I don’t think you got the, I suppose, the family atmosphere so much in, in the teams because as more money comes into the club, they go for the money instead of the football, I think myself.

Granddad A: I think getting to the ground is a lot more difficult now because of the volume of traffic than it was. I do think with Southampton in mind, there’s a lot of possibilities that they haven’t even tapped into. I actually wrote to Krueger saying why don’t they look into the possibility of ferries from the Waterside and even Hamble docking at that little place, the cement place opposite. They’ve only got to have an alley way through and a hut, they’ve already got a wharf.

And the other thing is the station. Why don’t they halt there? Yeah [the train passes right by]. It’s like Crystal Palace, they’re coming down last game of the season ,they’re coming on a steam train. Well it’d be [the] obvious choice if they could get off at the stadium.

It was [easier at the Dell] from the point of view of parking and getting there – no, thinking about it, it was just there was more people walked in those days.

And I think that was probably the reason [access seemed easier].

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What would you say was your best Saints memory?

Granddad B: Beating Manchester United 6-3 at the old Dell. [laughs] Seeing Ferguson walk by me with a face black as thunder. They wore a grey-ish kit and they’ve never worn it since. So that’s one.

Oh when they won the cup, yeah, yeah, that was different. Up in Wembley.

Well it’s a very good memory, that is. That goal went in and I think everybody was [happy]. Yeah, yeah [I went up for that], I’ve still got the rosette now and the programme of that game. I kept that. Went up on coach. [The atmosphere] was excellent, yeah, yeah. Very good.

Granddad A: I think I’m right, Saint’s played Newcastle – no Saint’s played Man United one evening match, when they changed their shirts. Yeah [the grey kit game]. That’s one of them. As now, Man United was a top team, and achievement to win against them alone but we actually hammered them. And I think we won 5-2 [Note - it was actually 6-3] was it in the end? Another one is Matt Le Tissier, when he got probably his best goal of his career. He punted the ball over the blokes head, ran on, then got through another and scored.

I’m not sure whether – no, that was a Newcastle game, that was. And going back to the very oldest, used to have a bloke called Charlie Wayman playing.

He came from Newcastle and everybody said “up the middle to Charlie” and the whole stadium used to chant that, you know. To single out one game, I suppose [is really hard].

Yeah [the 90’s was a good era for Southampton] because they’re home grown players, it was more of an achievement. Like when McMenemy reached the cup final and that [in 1976]. It was more of an achievement then, because even when I went to Cardiff and watched them play Arsenal in the last cup final they were in, it was good, it was memorable but it wasn’t quite the same feel about it.

What’s your worst Saints memory?

Granddad A: I think it was a game against Stoke. We were winning 3 0 at half time and they came back to win 4-3 but the killer blow came in the last few minutes of the match. You know, and I always remember that one. That was, I think it was just prior to Strachan coming. Yeah, we were all over them. And the fact that it was a stroll in the park. I remember walking away sort of all disgruntled on that one.

Yeah, obviously when they throw away matches and players are not performing, that’s disappointing. But sometimes I can get over a loss that day but other times it takes me two or three days to get over it. [I’m particularly 21

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rattled by] players not – given the money they get – players not putting in a proper shift.

I’ll tell you what, one of my worst moments was when Nigel Adkins got sacked.

I was gutted over that. I thought, you know, he brought us up from the divisions didn’t he, and we won 4 0 I think the week before he got sacked. I’m glad bloody Lowe is gone and I’m glad, what’s his other bloke, Nicola Cortese, [is gone too]. I said at the time, I would have supported them even if they’d been relegated, cos it’s your home team. Yeah I thought that was a bit ruthless.

I tell you what, I went to a board meeting once, somebody gave me their ticket and Lowe was at the front and Laurie McMenemy, his wife was there. And it turned out to be – not chaotic... a shambles. Lowe had a painting, I don’t know if you’ve read this in Laurie McMenemy’s book have you? Lowe had a painting given to him from Doncaster Rovers. They took Laurie McMenemy’s photograph with the cup and put this one in its place – And I think Laurie McMenemy might have taken it home, I’m not sure, but the point I’m trying to make is, Lowe didn’t realise it was part of the culture of the club, it’s part of the history of the club and he did it like that. And Mrs McMenemy says “why did you take that painting down?” And everybody sort of, yeah, started agreeing with her and it was proper [shambolic].

Granddad B: Well there was some disappointments I’ve had at the old Dell, you know, where the cup, in the cup I remember Luton coming up here and beating us 6 something with a reserve side [laughs] so... Oh that was way before they come to St Mary’s but I can’t remember what year it was, but I know it rained and it rained. I was disappointed.

I can’t say any bad memories. If they were beaten by a better team, I accepted it, you know. But as long as they tried and they were beaten by a better team, you accepted the result, don’t you? I mean up here, Everton beat us this year and yet we goes up there, we should have won but we drew. Oh there’s games that – but football is a great disappointment at times, isn’t it. It is. You expect more than what you get. [laughs] That’s the trouble with football.

The most disappointed one was when we went up Aston Villa’s ground, and Dennis Law laid on the floor and kicked the ball in the net. [laughs]. He slipped up on – I don’t know whether it was muddy or not -but he slipped up but he laid on the ground and tapped the ball in the net. That was a great disappointment. No, he was playing for Manchester United, I think at that time.

[The match was at Villa] cos in them days, the semi final was always a neutral ground. So being Southampton I suppose they allocated Aston Villa’s ground.

There used to be Aston Villa’s ground and Sheffield Wednesday’s ground.

That’s Hillsborough, yeah. That’s the two because they were big clubs, big 23

grounds, so that’s why they picked them. He didn’t accidently [kick it in], I suppose he kept his wits [laughs].

What does football mean to you?

Granddad A: Well its theatre. You get the actors, you get the audience, you get the involvement, you get the barracking, and the – it’s just the excitement of the occasion. Oh no [it doesn’t stop when I leave the stadium], it lasts for days, you can be flattened as you probably know, flattened one moment and then sort of excited the next, on a high.

Oh no, [it's not just a game], as Bill Shankley said, it’s a religion. It just gives you a little bit of pep in life really, you know especially when you get local players. When the likes of Matt Le Tissier was playing and Steve Williams, home gown players, there was a lot more – you felt a little bit closer to the team than what you do now. It’s mercenary at the moment. Yeah, I think [those players had more loyalty]. They didn’t get high money. They played for the sheer pride, privilege of playing for Southampton.

I think, when I used to go, when I was young and used to go, it was far too low [paid] then. They were only picking up the same amount of money as somebody working a 40 hour week, you know, but depending on where they were in the leagues, referring to Southampton, someone like Terry Paine was probably only getting about hundred pounds a week or something like that when he first started. Maybe even less than that.

And they used to have – like Terry Paine had a fruit and vegetable shop, somebody else might have a pub and was a sort of level that they entered their [pay]. That was after they played – actually, Terry Paine had one when he was still playing, you know, [supplementing his wages]. Definitely, yeah [its gone too far the other way]. I know it could be argued that they’ve got a very short, narrow window cos if they don’t earn it when they’re playing like that – its gotta last them their life, but it’s still a lot more money that they earn. When you take it [that] the doctors, even politicians, when you balance it up with that...

Granddad B: Well, I always liked football, I always played football, the atmosphere, you always got your friends round you. So it’s entertainment and you didn’t used to pay a lot of money at one time. I mean, I’ve got, I had programmes up[stairs for a] six pence. [laughs] But now it’s got a rich man’s – it’s a business now instead of football.

You used to be squeezed in like sardines where was now you got nice seating. You don’t get pushed and shoved [laughs]. [But I liked] the 24

atmosphere at the time, yeah. Well, I remember one time up the old Dell I never got in the ground to see the game. Birmingham City come down here cos they were a big club then. And they come down for a cup or end to the league I think and I never see the game. I got jammed in the entrance. You couldn’t move. And they packed them all in. Yeah [it was common that] they packed them in there. They didn’t have a limit, they just sold the ticket. And I remember being in there, there was about [a] ten foot wall on the side [laughs], you couldn’t get in and you couldn’t get out. It was quite scary, yeah.

I don’t know what the year was, but way before the Dell finished, you know.

Yeah, oh yeah, must have been [the 70’s], I don’t remember.

Well I never, when I started with [your granddad] and them, I never, it was only about 4 or 5 years we had a seat. We had a season ticket then. But I always used to go in and buy a ticket and go what gate wasn’t full up, you know? I mean they was always up the trees then watching [laughs]. You might get half a dozen people up one tree, where they couldn’t get in or they couldn’t afford it. And everything was – the players never used to like coming to the Dell cos it was so close to the pitch, all you had was a little path way didn’t you? The atmosphere was different, wasn’t it?

If you were a teenager now, do you think you’d get into football?

Granddad A: Yeah, probably would. I tell you what I probably wouldn’t do, I wouldn’t be a plastic supporter. Cos all they want is the glory and not the loyalty. To me, its feudal battle, and you want to be on the side that wins and be with your area. But that’s probably an idiosyncrasy of my age group. Nah [I don’t think I’d pick up a non-league side rather than a Premier League side] because it’s in my genes I would probably – its hypothetical, you don’t know what you’d do, do you, a lot of its to do with your upbringing for a start – but yeah, I would still follow my local team.

Granddad B: Well I preferred playing as a teenager and I didn’t go to the Dell then cos once you’re committed to [playing for] a team, you support the team don’t you? So, but I still supported Saints. Then I went in the army for 7 years, I mean I was away abroad for 6 of them 7 years so – well just over 6 years. I supported them when I come out.

I loved to play football years ago. At that time, I wouldn’t have gone to the Dell.

But if it was an evening match and we didn’t have a match, I’d go.

I think I would [still get into football as a kid], yeah. I think I would. I mean, I like to watch a game of football. I’d sooner watch [live] than I would on the telly. Even though you get more detail on the telly and you can see the faults of the referee more. Oh yeah, you can’t beat a live game [for atmosphere].

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Do you feel like football coverage is over saturated these days?

Granddad B: I suppose football has benefitted by getting the money off the TV. And also if you happen to be on telly, you see the mistakes being made so it’s a different sort – everyone what’s up at St Mary’s sees a different game to what – everybody sees a different game cos the angles are different. No, [you're not focusing on the same things]. That’s why you can’t blame the referees or the lines man at times because they can’t keep up with the ball, can they? It’s true, innit? The only way you’d have that I think is to have 4, 4 lines men on each side [laughs]. But he’s got a leggy view, we’ve got a bird’s eye view. So we see a different to what the officials do.

Well, you get more money from [TV] and that’s what governs the game at the moment. More money, you get better players, do you, which I don’t agree with at times but – I’d sooner see local people. But if they haven’t got the skills, the local people, you goes for the professional, don’t you?

I think TV’s a good thing. It allows like us old folks, if I couldn’t go to football, I can see it. But other than that, I think the money and TV have ruined football anyway [laughs] in a certain way.

Granddad A: You haven’t got to watch it if you don’t want to. What I do feel, I think I mentioned it before [in the car], it’s a shame that people can’t watch their, supporters can’t watch their favourite team on a Saturday we’re not playing at home. I mentioned the monopoly of Sky and BT Sport. Yeah [I’d like to see more away games shown]. Well, I don’t go to away matches anyway. It would probably cut – I dunno, you’d get the ardent supporters, I’m sure there’d still be the hard core away supporters group.

How Not To Be A Football Fan.*

By Ben Smith 1.

Let’s get the confession out of the way first. I am the world's worst football fan.

Most seasons I'm excited in late August and early September, have a dip then bounce back at Xmas before slumping until the end of the season when I lazily look up to see where my team(s) have placed. Now I could blame this completely on the fact that 'my' team is Grimsby. I would say that for the first 10 years of being a Grimsby supporter the above pattern describes the match day performances season after season.

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I'm sure there are rules on picking a football team and by birth I should be a Leicester fan, by heritage, well, I should like rugby! However aged five years old I lived in the village of Waltham just outside of Grimsby. The player Neil Woods lived around the corner and I rode BMX bikes with his son over shonky homemade ramps. I bought a scarf in the local sports shop which I've subsequently lost in an end of a relationship house move.

So it all started well, Panini albums, a brief glory Arsenal phase when I moved to Dorset aged eight but a return to supporting Grimsby. I played football for the village team as a teenager, we were shit. I also played for another team after that who were worse. However the Scouts five a-side team had some success and the team I was in for the annual summer carnival five a-side won it one year. In fact I continued to play on and off despite a lack of talent until about 2 years ago when I lost my astro-boots in another end of relationship house move. So football and I go way back it should be in my blood. I've been to watch Grimsby both home and away, I've even been to see a St Pauli game, my other adopted team.

So now the problem, the issue. I just don't care anymore.

I try occasionally. I had a memorable mid-week birthday night out to watch Farsley but I feel I've lost all passion for the game. I know I can still sit through 90 minutes and enjoy the spectacle but struggle with anything more.

Occasionally inside something will register and I'll feel something, want a particular outcome to occur. Generally though I muster nothing but apathy.

Now to be honest this isn't a football problem. If you asked someone to associate a sport with me, they would probably say cycling. I have spent literally years riding thousands of miles. The issue is the same though with the sport of professional cycling. I enjoy the spectacle but have no connection with the sport. I am not invested in who is victorious.

Maybe it's a money thing - I definitely enjoy the lower leagues more than watching the Premier league. Maybe I just can't put aside the big business that football has become and how it seeps down into every tier of the game.

Maybe it's to do with politics and culture and feeling I can't relate to most stereotypical football fans. Or maybe that is my prejudice. Maybe I'm just lazy.

So come late August I'll probably flick on final score or check the Bundesliga results online but realistically don't expect me to keep it up. I'm sorry, I'm the world's worst football fan.

2.

After writing the above something has happened. I've been to five live football matches this season. Something has appeared out of nowhere that has sparked me to be interested in football again. That thing is football as a social 27

activity. I'm not suddenly turning up every Saturday at my local ground, nor am I likely to be buying a season ticket for a club any time soon. However I've discovered that it's actually fun to meet my friends and wander to a ground somewhere and watch a game. There is discussion of both the game, the sport as a whole and naturally, the wider world.

The last game I went to was the Grimsby fixture at Eastleigh. Frankly it was probably the best football game I've been to since watching St Pauli lose to Aachen about 8 years ago. Something has happened to Grimsby fans since I last went to a match. They are positive! This is unheard of, the last time I went to Blundell park for a home game I was surrounded by depressed and sarcastic fans bemoaning our woes. Jump forward to 2015 and suddenly there are 450 supporters at an away game miles from home. They're singing, they're dancing, they're confident we're going to get promoted back into the football league this season. The atmosphere was fantastic and naturally I got caught up in it, stamping my feet and singing 'our' songs as Grimsby gained a deserved 1-0 victory in what was an important match.

So now the euphoria of that day has subsided and faded into memory what of the rest of the season? Well I'm not about to rush out and by a new Grimsby scarf or shirt. I know myself well enough to know that it's a long time until May. However I have been looking through the fixtures and seeing where there are more local away games which I might be able to attend. I've started to use social media to keep me more in touch with the club and results. In the long term I do know that this is just another phase of interest and attention, but you never know, maybe I'm not such a terrible football fan after all.

3. ...and so we reached the end of the season. Grimsby hadn't managed to secure promotion automatically but had made it to the playoff final. I looked at buying tickets and decided at around ÂŁ50 a pop plus travel, food etc. it was out of my budget/price range. However the hand of fate had other ideas.

Grimsby's opponents were south Gloucestershire side Forest Green Rovers, owned by Ecotricity founder Vince Dale. So when an email circulated at my partners work (Bristol based environmental charity Sustrans) asking if anyone wanted complimentary tickets to the match, two tickets were suddenly ours.

Not only was this two tickets to the match it was a hospitality package including a meal. The game was now affordable.

Now there were some strings attached to said tickets/hospitality the first being there was a dress code of 'smart casual'. Cue putting on my only pair of suit trousers, the one smart shirt I own and the single pair of smart shoes in my possession. Getting dressed up for the football felt wrong. Also as we were 28

guests of Forest Green it seemed sensible to try to keep my support for their opposition quiet, well that was the plan.

Upon arriving at Wembley, which was my first time at the new version there was some palava in securing our tickets to get into the game/meal but it was all sorted and we found ourselves seated with the Forest Green marketing manager (and family) who had been co-ordinating the hospitality. Again it's odd having a semi-formal meal before a football match however this did include free beer and because it was Forest Green a vegan meal. Winner. I did hear some Forest Green supports however suggesting they might nip across to the Grimsby side of the dining room to secure some meat.

Time for kick off rolled around and we took our seats which to be honest were ok but no great shakes. In line with the centre line but quite high up in the stadium. Despite being on a row with other Forest Green supporters who had brought scarves with them (club shirts were banned) I couldn't contain myself during the game and it would have been clear where my allegiances lay.

However the seating in the hospitality area seemed mixed so it wasn't that bad. Naturally the atmosphere wasn't quite the same as being within a large crowd of all rooting for the same team.

The result? Grimsby won 3-1 with two goals from Omar Bogle in the first half.

A goal from Forest Green in the second half put me on the edge of my seat and fearing the worst. However Nathan Arnold scored to secure Grimsby's place back in the football league after a six year absence.

We stuck around after the final whistle and this was when I realised the hospitality seats are underneath the royal box. So we watched the Grimsby players walk up steps less than 10 metres away to collect the trophy. They then promptly dropped the lid of said trophy which landed about four rows in front of me. It was really good to see the reactions of the players so close up and you could see the victory meant a lot to them.

So hospitality. Would I pay for it (i.e. Club Wembley)? Not a chance. The foods good, the beers free but the view is average and the atmosphere is crap. Plus getting dressed up for the football, well that just isn't me. ...and this season. I'm out of the loop. I don't know what's going on (I just checked we're 'mid-table'). Business as usual for a terrible football fan! *This is a nod to Paul Merson's autobiography. Unsurprisingly I haven't read it.

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When Guy Fawkes Goes To Watch The Footie

By Simon Gaunt 6th December 2015, SV Babelsberg 1903 vs BFC Dynamo.

Stood in the Nordkurve of Karl-Liebknecht Stadion in the early December sunshine after trooping past what seemed like half of the police force in the whole of Brandenburg, I finally got through the gates and into the Babelsberg home end to find my mates where anticipation was already feverishly buzzing.

This Nord-Ost Liga fixture is always regarded as a bit of a derby/grudge match, depending on how much notice you take of the political affiliations of the clubs’ respective fan bases: Potsdam based Babelsberg have an openly antifa core of ultras on their terraces whilst conversely Berlin club BFC Dynamo have a somewhat renowned and uglier side to a section of their supporters (sieg-heiling dickheads also made it through the turnstiles into the away end at this match). So with that in mind, and the fact that only a couple of points separated the teams before this fixture, expectations and tensions were high.

The whistle blew and the game was on. The first 4 minutes showed a strong start for the two sides: mid-air battles for possession and structured defensive plays up field seemed to be the order of the day for both sides. Just as the more adventurous forward passes began to direct the ball towards one end of the field a sudden screeching cut through the air. As eyes turned towards the direction of the noise it appeared that one fan in the Dynamo block had set off what the Germans call a ’Silvesterbatterie’ (a battery of smaller fireworks contained in one box). Given that folk don’t really want to be stood too close to an impromptu fireworks display there was a bit of a scuffle to put space between bodies and the box of pyrotechnics, and as a result of the movement or because the box was damaged, the battery tipped and began to fire rockets into the crowd in the away end. As it span out of control, the battery also shot a couple of rockets towards the unassuming Dynamo goalie who at that point had his back turned to the stand. Play was stopped for a short while and stewards waded in to try and calm the melee and figure out who was responsible. It seemed no-one had been hurt and the stewards did their job to get things sorted so that the game could carry on.

Now, as a Babelsberger having witnessed thuggish stupidity from BFC fans before, I immediately assumed it was one of the Dynamo ultras trying to show off their own capabilities or to make a point about slackness of Babelsberg stewarding. ’Pfff! Idiots made a right mess of that,’ I nonchalantly thought to myself. As it turned out, the individual responsible was a regular visitor to Babelsberg (home end) but, curiously enough, was also a BFC fan and for 30

this match had bought a ticket to stand with his fellow BFC fans, according to a PNN Potsdam newspaper report. As fireworks were very clearly prohibited the NOFV (North East German Football Association) was bound by its own regulations to impose a fine for the incident.

This then raised the dilemma of which club should be fined as the fan in question had managed to breach the stadium security organised by Babelsberg (by burying the box underground near the away end fence the night before the match!) but had bought his ticket through the official channels set up by BFC Dynamo therefore delegating them a part of the responsibility.

Feeling somewhat befuddled by the unclear boundaries of responsibility in this situation the NOFV imposed a fine on both clubs for the actions of the individual. In this case there arose a bit of a grey area which, to be fair, must seldom occur but if someone has already been identified for what amounts to dangerous and plain stupid behaviour that has clearly threatened the safety of others then why not slap the fine on him/her instead of struggling lower league clubs? I have no idea whether situations such as this have arisen before but hopefully it will encourage the policy makers behind the rules for fining to consider other possibilities and to make decisions based on the culprit rather than how much money they can glean from easier targets.

Having witnessed all of this on that December day (it turned out a 0-0 draw in the end, by the way) and debated it within my circle of football loving compadres I began to wonder about the extent of firework use at football matches. Should they be allowed? Should there be a blanket ban on all unofficial use of pyrotechnics? Can there be a happy medium for fans, clubs and league officials alike that tolerates their usage?

In my time as a spectator I have never seen fireworks or flares used by fans at a football game in the UK that I have attended and although it is a while since I went to a game in the UK it is certainly much more of a European tradition.

Fans in Europe have been lighting up their terraces to celebrate their teams by conducting choreographed flare waving or setting off some kind of pyrotechnics in the club colours to celebrate impending victory for decades.

Some of the scenes you see from the bigger European clubs league games look simultaneously insanely impressive and scary- the display from the stands like a bonfire night of its own but in a football stadium. Within the UK it seems that this fan organised spectacle is also taking hold amongst more daring supporters. Over the last couple of years there has been a notable increase in the use of flares at English and Scottish league games, one which the league authorities are openly worried about.

Safety issues aside, there is something to be said for the effect these pyro displays have on the atmosphere within a ground. Two minutes before the kick off of the Brandenburg cup semi final last season between Babelsberg and 31

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Energie Cottbus I found myself amid such a display. I was suddenly a couple of metres behind a masked brigade of fellow fans armed with flares of blue and white, as though part of some subterranean conspiracy to torch their own stadium. The chants got louder, my heartbeat accelerated and as the Nordkurve block glowed proudly with the club colours I stood gently weeping at the vision before me (actually I’d caught a bit of ash from one of the flares in my right eye and was feeling like a bit of a knob, dabbing away at my sodden cheeks with a tissue). For the fans there is added excitement when there are pyro-antics going on but for the players it must be a pretty thrilling experience to be greeted by a stand of burning beacons streaming away in the team colours as you walk out onto the pitch. Nevertheless when flares or fireworks end up on the pitch it is a different story. Play has to be stopped, and not only does it kill game momentum but pyros that end up on the pitch threaten players’ safety and more often than not are likely to have been lobbed with interruptive or malicious intent. This tends to happen more at bigger games where within a larger number of fans then the greater occurrence of brainless fans who are there to stir shit for the hell of it than they are for any reasons of sporting interest or healthy camaraderie.

Of course another aspect of the attraction of bringing fireworks, flares and incendiaries to a match is the risk element. For those smuggling these forbidden pleasures into a ground, the risk is surely part of the fun in itself.

And then there is the simple fact that since man discovered fire all those years ago, playing with fire is basically good fun. The majority of folk tend to repress this gunpowder lust until their once-yearly orgasm of explosive activity on bonfire night or New Year’s Eve but clearly some football fans have a sparkier libido that needs tending to a little more regularly. So, given that safety is obviously a massive concern when considering the use of fireworks at football matches, is it feasible to find some kind of middle ground where certain fireworks or pyrotechnic devices are allowed in the ground or whereby the clubs put on displays themselves? Well, for the aforementioned reasons I would predict that any club-organised ’fireworks display’ would be looked on with disdain by the fans and would probably end up being a watered down version of what fans want anyway: flares in their own hands, not the hands of some mascot dressed as a massive furry animal or a raffle winner from last month’s fundraising dinner. Additionally there would be the cost of such displays for clubs and the mass of red tape from health and safety officers to plough through, in the UK at least, before anyone would be allowed to even look at a sparkler.

The DFB (the FA of Germany) has in the past considered relaxing its ban on fireworks in stadiums and allowing fans to bring in their own to matches. I`m not sure that this would extend to bringing in a ’Silvesterbatterie’, as the culprit at the Dynamo game did, but at least with a fair and sensible regulation of 33

what fans would be allowed to bring in to football games then there would be less chance of getting a stray rocket shot up the leg of your jeans. That said, rules will inevitably be bent and broken whatever allowances are made and even if a liberal, fan-oriented review of the laws were to appear among some leagues within Europe or the UK then the more extreme factions of fan groups would still be operating autonomously to do pyrotechnics on their terms rather than anyone else’s.

Perhaps the biggest downside for smaller clubs are the fines that they receive for what supporters get up to in the stands. Fans obviously care about what happens to their club but if they feel suppressed by blanket rules which affect a tradition they are a part of, and which attempt to ruin their fun with zerotolerance policies then fans aren’t likely to change their ways. UEFA has much stricter rules about the use of pyrotechnics at their games and the fines they dish out to clubs can be considerable but in comparison to the amount of capital these clubs represent it’s hardly affecting them in the same way as it is their lower league counterparts who rely on every ticket sold to keep them afloat.

Fireworks are an inseparable part of football culture in mainland Europe which fans use to celebrate their clubs and inject a bit of danger and showmanship into proceedings on their own terms. Guaranteeing the safety of everyone at a football game is crucial but so long as folk are sensible and respectful to their fellow fans then it seems there can be a place for fan initiated firework usage. I have only ever witnessed these things done sensibly and with the right spirit from the side of the fence I’ve ever been stood on. Personally I can’t help but feel a buzz when the flares are blazing, lighting up faces, flags and banners as the chants are booming around the stadium. It is without doubt a sticky topic, with its many avenues of debate, and is probably a massive headache for those whose job it is to create legislation in order keep fans safe whilst also representing the wishes of clubs and fans alike. So long as this tradition continues there will be issues to contend with but if it keeps football fan culture exciting, vibrant and beautiful then long may it safely continue.

And so, to round things off here’s a joke I came up with all by myself (must be the exposure to all the shit jokes in Xmas crackers over the past month) : Q. Why did Guy Fawkes always get picked first for his school football team?

A. He had a certain flare that the other players lacked.

Boom! Ta for reading and stay safe on them terraces.

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Non-League Day 2015

By Phil Chokeword 1. It’s a bit of a running joke that when I say I’m going to meet Jon in time for a pre-match coffee, South West Trains will fuck it up with an absent train, pending arrival who knows when. So I don’t know why I’m surprised that my best laid plans go to shit early on because of a train disaster. Apparently this time a freight train has broken down and a carriage has burst into flames somewhere between Winchester and Eastleigh. Not to cast aspersions but there is a conspicuous lack of smoke. There is, oddly, a faint waft of cow faeces.

2. Wimbourne Holland and Barrett don’t have a fridge so I am denied a porkless pie. Out of disgust, I deliberately put a flap jack back in the wrong box. This teaches them a valuable lesson.

3. Wimbourne Town FC. We turn up late after two trains, a bus and a ten minute stomp to what is actually a good game of footy against Marlow.

The ground isn’t too bad, with a decent cup of half time tea for a quid.

Turn out: 234, which feels pretty substantial.

4. MOTD Highlights reel: long, aerial shot of the pitch sloping sharply down hill (you make do with what you got); crowd shot focusing on someone blowing a farty sounding hunting horn periodically; repeated close ups of the ref looking nonplussed about the sort of tackles that would result in blood splattered rolling around in the grass anywhere else; and, since there is a brick wall at waist height round the pitch, slow motion shot from multiple angles of someone running into it at high speed. Minutely dissected. Repeatedly.

5. Pretty sure that guy ended up with his hand strapped up actually. This must happen on at least a fortnightly basis.

6. Non-league tourism. We go to watch our local National League club on a fairly regular basis despite holding Premier League season tickets so it’s not as if this is a total one off. And although we’ve travelled an hour to get here, this is in part because Eastleigh FC are away so we’re visiting Ben, for whom Wimbourne Town are the closest local team. It still costs less including trains, buses and gate than the average ticket for a top tier game incidentally... But as we enjoy the experience, I can’t help but wonder if this is an essentially patronising thing to do. Rocking up late as a one-off what for other people is a regular meaningful experience and trying not to laugh every time the horn farts out across the ground. Are we taking the piss or supporting grass roots footy? At least we’ve given them an extra £40 odd quid they’d not have had. And really, what else are we gunna do, watch England on TV? 35

7. It ends 3 – 2 Marlow, by the way.

8. On the way back, I spot a house with Police tape around it. On closer inspection, the building is looking very concave but somehow hadn’t collapsed. Someone has obviously driven a car into it. There is a metaphor for my life in there somewhere.

9. POST MATCH CURRY REPORT: We go out in Poole. I order a curry I’ve never heard of that is described as “the most beautiful curry on the menu.” It is full of cardamom seeds and weird twiggy bits that I keep having to pick out of my mouth with grubby coffee-stained claws.

Make of that what you will.

10. Non-League Day 2016: Eastleigh do North Ferriby United 2-0. I miss both goals – one because I’m trying not to tip tea over someone and the other because I’m looking at a poster for a show on Stu’s phone. I am filled with self loathing for the rest of the game for being THAT supporter (although in my defence, said poster at least features pink cats and flying saucers).

The Best Away Game ... Ever

By Marv Gadgie Now then gadgie.

The day we went down the motorway to deepest, darkest Yorkshire to see Boro against Barnsley at the end of the season is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in football (and I’ve seen Sunderland play). Middlesbrough were safely sat a playoff position in the old second division so long as we avoided a 56-0 defeat or summat bizarre, but Barnsley had it all to play for. It was one of those last day of the season, loads of permutations over what could happen if ... scenarios. I seem to recall something to do with Sheffield United and Brighton. Defeat for Barnsley meant they would not make the play off but if they managed a win and United lost The Tykes could steal an unlikely place in the play offs. I think that was the stats situation, but you get the picture even if my memory has got a detail wrong. Barnsley had a really old fashioned ground that seemed to be one huge terrace. On the way in we saw it from the top of a hill and recalled the time we were last here, a 1-1 draw. Passing loads of kids all giving us the finger from behind their garden wall we got the “behind enemy lines” feeling that away matches inspire.

The boisterous home crowd soon filled their terraces and the Boro had brought an impressive away following which filled the huge, roofless away end. The game got under way and people clutched radios for goal news from other games – that typical, nervous end of the season affair where your 36

teams result can be rendered redundant with a goal at the other end of the country. Or some boring bugger would relay every single goal that was scored that day to a crowd of folk who really don’t care. One particularly unfortunate fellow who was cruelly named “Droid” was such a bloke. “Tottenham have scored, they’re 1-0 up!” or “Oooh Motherwell have scored again” were typical unwanted updates that stopped after some gadgie shouted “So what, are you gonna drop yer wabs and have a wank about it?” The updates stopped then.

Barnsley took the lead to an almighty cheer and held out till the end to record a 1-0 victory. It was a decent game and we were pretty much looking forward to the play offs as were our victorious hosts who, all being well, with their win, would be too. Someone, somewhere else, probably Brighton, were also 1-0 up and the radios around the ground crackled and fizzed as excited Barnsley fans invaded the pitch! Hugging, dancing and taunting us, they made it quite clear that they were “going up” and we weren’t. The stadium tannoy announced the Sheffield United/Brighton score as the necessary defeat for the Steel City club (I reckon, but forgive me if my memory fails me) and the jubilant home fans mobbed their players as they made for the tunnel and the waiting champagne that was allegedly cracked open that day. Then out of the blue, a young blond haired lad, who was on the pitch, ran over to the fence that kept us penned in and lifted his shirt up to reveal a Boro shirt! 12,000 Barnsley fans, not happy that he had spent the whole game in “their end” gave chase! “Go on son!” applauded the Boro end as the youth legged it and, with Spiderman like dexterity, scaled the fence and landed in the safety of the hollering and hooting away supporters. This obviously enraged our Yorkshire hosts and they stood metres away from our fence hurling all sorts of abuse and “We’re going up!” gubbins at us.

Then a moment of sheer magic.

The sort of thing that only happens in your dreams.

As hundreds of Barnsley supporters ran around smiling, jumping, shaking hands, laughing and celebrating, trying their best to annoy us, the stadium announcer came back on and said “Erm, um, sorry, but a late amendment to that last score “Bzzzt Crackle! Fizz! Hove Albion 1 Crackle Hiss United 1!”

Someone had scored a late equaliser and it was them that sneaked in to the last playoff spot and not Barnsley! Celebrations turned to heartache on the pitch as the marauding home fans sank to their knees, the champers went flat, tears started to flow and the dancing ceased. Have you ever heard 2000 men and women laugh really loudly (in a Teesside accent) and simultaneously? I did that day as the away end erupted as if Boro had scored, wildly cheering, dancing and clapping, revelling in a classic slice of schadunfreud. We lost the game, but had the biggest “E-I-O” of the day, rarving about and carrying on followed by a journey home spent smiling at a 0-1 defeat.

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