Crowd packers?! Like on Japanese trains?!Poor you! I remember the crowd packers at the Goldstone. They made sure every inch of the terraces had someone standing on it. Put it like this - if you farted it stayed in your pants.
Crowd packers?! Like on Japanese trains?!Poor you! I remember the crowd packers at the Goldstone. They made sure every inch of the terraces had someone standing on it. Put it like this - if you farted it stayed in your pants.
Nostalgia ain't what it used to be.Nostalgia, it's so ..... yesterday!
Yes, really! They would try and make sure the aisles were free and then tell everyone to budge up to let someone else in. By kickoff it was a free for all and every man and his dog stood wherever they could. Nice and cosy. If you ever see old photos of the crowd at a packed Goldstone you’ll know what I mean.Crowd packers?! Like on Japanese trains?!
Those Grimsby fans were something special. I was chased down the road by a local carrying a railway sleeper as a cosh. Yup it slowed him down long enough for me to escape.For the whole football experience, no glory hunters, train travel was good, standing, good old fashioned songs, more tight knitted mates, younger, more stamina for the all day benders, coming out of coasters and getting the 4am train to Oldham etc. I'm an old bastard now but those were the days for me and we knew we were shite and we knew that reality, but there were great games in between. Getting chased down an alley in grimsby on a Tuesday night and welcomed into an old ladys house with a broom to save me from a pounding. Forgive me for this mini rant, but that's how I feel and love reminiscing about those eras. Happy days
Then there was the other side of the coin in joys of those days long gone. Coming out of the Boleyn Ground at West Ham after the Albion drew 0-0 back in 1980(?) was an old boy, probably around seventy, wearing a Brighton scarf. He’d just been attacked by West Ham’s finest and was lying in the gutter in a pool of blood.But there were joys in those days long gone now.
The midnight train to Brighton with buffet bar in full flow, bacon butties and Annie Nightingale holding court.
23.00 from Manchester direct to Brighton.
Drinking on the bus,
The sense of achievement having escaped from Ninian Park in one piece.
The choice of running the PVFC outside Vale Park or ducking into the supermarket to get a thumping from the cops.
Those were the days.
Oi, I resemble that remark!
No.For the whole football experience, no glory hunters, train travel was good, standing, good old fashioned songs, more tight knitted mates, younger, more stamina for the all day benders, coming out of coasters and getting the 4am train to Oldham etc. I'm an old bastard now but those were the days for me and we knew we were shite and we knew that reality, but there were great games in between. Getting chased down an alley in grimsby on a Tuesday night and welcomed into an old ladys house with a broom to save me from a pounding. Forgive me for this mini rant, but that's how I feel and love reminiscing about those eras. Happy days
You were never cold in the North Stand! If you wanted more room or a better view then start a surge!Yes, really! They would try and make sure the aisles were free and then tell everyone to budge up to let someone else in. By kickoff it was a free for all and every man and his dog stood wherever they could. Nice and cosy. If you ever see old photos of the crowd at a packed Goldstone you’ll know what I mean.
That reminds of an incident in the early 1970s. It was the end of the season and the Albion were playing a testimonial game at the Goldstone - can’t remember who for. I was with friends in the North Stand before the match kicked off when we noticed a teenage ginger skinhead running up and down the terrace. Okay, each to their own I suppose. Anyway, his antics continued while he chanted “You’re going to get your f***ing heads kicked in!”. It was during his one man I’m hard rendition that he tripped and collided with a barrier - balls first! Ouch. My first thought was - he won’t be dunking his ginger nuts anytime soon. Cool story eh!You were never cold in the North Stand! If you wanted more room or a better view then start a surge!
No barriers and slam door trains versus the 100 yard stare as you are held back and point out to the barrier staff that there are half empty carriages on their "full service". I can't speak for the service, but my personal reliability was much better.I mean a return to class 47s dragging old Mk 2s half way round the country does have some (trainspotting) benefits.
The old Persil tokens used to make travel up north very affordable.The only thing I would add is that it was a lot more affordable - ticket prices, young person rail card.
What strikes me on my infrequent visits back home is how middle class and middle aged football has become.
For the whole football experience, no glory hunters, train travel was good, standing, good old fashioned songs, more tight knitted mates, younger, more stamina for the all day benders, coming out of coasters and getting the 4am train to Oldham etc. I'm an old bastard now but those were the days for me and we knew we were shite and we knew that reality, but there were great games in between. Getting chased down an alley in grimsby on a Tuesday night and welcomed into an old ladys house with a broom to save me from a pounding. Forgive me for this mini rant, but that's how I feel and love reminiscing about those eras. Happy days
Actually the attendance was 35,779 if we’re being pedanticAs long as you're not burnt alive in a wooden stand, squashed to death behind a pen, or caught outnumbered by 20 skinheads at Millwall and have the shit nearly kicked out of you and spend the day in a hospital bed. (I remember that happening to an Albion fan in 1984, and it didn't even make the headlines)
I'm being a bit facetious here as I grew up loving football in that era, but people get very misty eyed about that period in time. Crowds were shockingly crap for all but the biggest games - the biggest 2 clubs in the country averaged 6,000 more than we do now! When Palace lost 9-0 at Liverpool, the gate was 35,000. The refs were still shit, defenders could pass back to the keeper when under any pressure, world cup groups were fixed, so were promotion/relegation fixtures, and half of clubs had nothing to play for with 15 games to go.
Apart from atmosphere (and that's debatable), the only thing that was genuinely better was the FA Cup. As for atmosphere, I remember games at the Goldstone where the place was a morgue - and that was in 84, 85 when we were still quite good and vying for promotion back to division 1.
Certainly was that side. West Ham ambushed us a service station in the 80'sThen there was the other side of the coin in joys of those days long gone. Coming out of the Boleyn Ground at West Ham after the Albion drew 0-0 back in 1980(?) was an old boy, probably around seventy, wearing a Brighton scarf. He’d just been attacked by West Ham’s finest and was lying in the gutter in a pool of blood.
Okay, you could say that was an isolated incident and should never have happened but it did. The football may have good in the 1970s and 80s but watching it brought it it’s own health warning - anytime, anywhere and by anyone. On balance I much prefer today’s offering, however sanitised, that some on here disapprove. At least now the chances of getting your head kicked because you’re wearing the wrong colours are minuscule compared with thirty and forty years ago.
I had forgotten that. I remember some supermarkets got raided for the boxes alone leaving heaps of washing powder in the aisles. Those were the days.The old Persil tokens used to make travel up north very affordable.