Your First Experience of the Albion

[whitelion]

I wasn't aware of professional football as a six year old and wasn't particularly sporty at that age.

A neighbour not much older than myself (could have been ten or eleven) asked my Ma if he could take me to a match and she agreed as I'd be out of the house for a while though I didn't really spend much time at home unless it was raining or my local mates were doing other things. I didn't know then that I was seriously short-sighted so couldn't really enjoy the spectacle.

My over-riding memory was playing kick about with some other lads at the back of the North Stand which was essentially a giant puddle. Remember the smells of liniment and pipe tobacco. This was early sixties.

 

[BBassic]

Dad took me to my first game in 1991 / 1992 (I think) against Wycombe and he got what seemed like the entire ground to join in a slow clap for one of their players who had gone down injured. For a six year old, that was about the most impressive feat I'd ever seen.

 

[Hammer15]

My first game was Jan 1994 v Blackpool. Probably the only fan who can day the first Albion goal they ever saw live was by Mark Flatts.

 

[Sompting_Seagull]

1985 as a 8yo - parked up in poets corner and walked through to Conway st past bus depot and took my seat in the west stand with my older brother, my dad and my grandad. Had all the supplies needed...flask of Oxo, chocolate digestives etc. Spent half the game watching the North stand, (see kids doing this at the Amex and this season moved me n my boy over as he too wanted to be in with the rabble), don't remember the score, think we beat Pompey that day. Oh and the sweet smell of St Bruno pipes wafting across the stand. Happy days.


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[Gwylan]

Probably the only fan who can day the first Albion goal they ever saw live was by Mark Flatts.

My first Albion goal was an own goal - summed up my first few years of watching them.

The main thing I remember about those early games was the smell of tobacco - every adult in the crowd appeared to be a smoker

 

[The_Viper]

8 years old, Worthington Cup 2nd round away at Northampton and lost 2-1. Storer scored ours. Never looked back.

 

[ForestRowSeagull]

1999 at Priestfield v Peterborough. Aged 3. Just looking it up it turns out we won 1-0 but doesn't say who the scorer was.

 

[Petee]

First game was vs Carlisle at Withdean in 2000. Don't really remember it as I was only 6. We won 4-1 with a Watson brace, Zamora and Steele scoring.

Thinking about it, as a fan, I must have a high win % as I rarely saw us lose and then have had ST since last season at Withdean so only one bad season.

 

[RandyWanger]

1992 as an 8 year old. I don't really remember much.

 

[barnden10]

Sunderland game just after they had reached 92 Cup Final. 2-2 draw and remember singing it's just like watching Brazil

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[Hammer15]

First game was vs Carlisle at Withdean in 2000. Don't really remember it as I was only 6. We won 4-1 with a Watson brace, Zamora and Steele scoring.

Thinking about it, as a fan, I must have a high win % as I rarely saw us lose and then have had ST since last season at Withdean so only one bad season.

I remember that game, my first at the Withdean. Carlisle were having a miserable old time of it and the stadium PA (Attila?) played Something Better Change by the Strangers for their fans as an act of solidarity. Funny the random things you remember...

 

[AK74]

Age: 8
Match attended: home game against Norwich City in the FA Cup
Date: March 12th 1983
Location: East Terrace

And so it began.

 

[Raleigh Chopper]

My Dad had a contract to put this rustproofing stuff on the North Stand and one day he took me with him, I was about 10.
Frankie Howard, the grounds man let me kick a ball about on the pitch.
Later that following season he took me to a game but I can never remember who it was against or even the exact year but Swindon or Oldham rings a bell, Pat Saward was the manager and we had players like Ken Beamish, it was probably around 1973 something like that.
My Dad also knew Eric Gill and we used to go to his hotel, Simpsons, on the seafront.
I was more or less hooked straight away but the Mullery, Ward years got me totally addicted.

 

[Paul Reids Sock]

Bournemouth 2003 as a 15 year old. Down with a Cardiff supporting mate.

Walked into Withdean and felt amazed by the place. Just as i said with a big smile 'I'm home' my friend was muttering 'what a shithole'

Sounds odd but I love the place immediately, I had been on here and followed the club as best I could but it was something else to actually be there

 

[Hiney]

Absolutely football mad in the mid-sixties. My Dad took me to The Goldstone on 28th August 1968 and that was it.

Hooked

 

[Weststander]

Jan 1976. Saw division three mid-table BHA beat Colchester 6-0. Local boys Piper and Towner were in the team. 16,000 crowd.

I already liked football on TV from the 1974 World Cup, FAC finals, Match of the Day and The Big Match.

The live experience got me hooked for life.

A month later, watched us beat CP in front of 33,000, under lights. That was just the official (declared to Customs by Bamber & Pavey) attendance! Loved the atmosphere, songs and swaying terrace crowds.

 

[StonehamPark]

8 years old, Goldstone.
1996
Brighton 1-0 Doncaster Rovers

I had never witnessed anything like it, the atmosphere, supporters, people crying, pitch invasions, I had no clue what the hell the club was about and never understood the reason for all of the above until a few years later.

I couldn't ask for a better Albion baptism.

 

[pearl]

1983 against Newcastle, I hadn't been living in Brighton that long and tbh I only went to see what it was all about. Remember having a laugh with away fans in the pub at Hove stn after. Went to match against Leeds (1984?) as my friend supports Leeds, we stood together and drank mini cans of Special Brew at half time .... I was 24/25 and remember FA about the actual games, bad fan

 

[Brovion]

Honestly can't remember. But it was before England won the World Cup! Sometime in Feb/March 1966 at a guess, I went with some of my new schoolfriends after I'd moved to Lancing.

PS - Now unlike POTS this thread I DO remember! Still, it's nice to have a repeat every few years.

 

[The Large One]

I wrote up my first time in The Goldstone Days programme. It went something like this...

In the mid-late 1970s, my father was a self-employed carpenter. Most Saturday mornings he would head to the small industrial units in Newtown Road, Sackville Road and Conway Street where there were painting and decorating shops or an electrical store or a general hardware store.

These stores always stank of white spirit – whatever they were selling – and ran by a kindly old fella called Reg or Stan. Think The Two Ronnies’ Four Candles sketch, and you’ll get the picture. This was way before the DIY sheds came along.

His eight year-old son (me) being keen to know what his Dad was doing, would merrily bowl along, in the oft-forlorn hope that he would be abble to take a left turn to watch Brighton play at The Goldstone Ground.

In those days, Brighton were on the up. Recently-retired firebrand Alan Mullery was the new manager, and a cocky upstart called Peter Ward was banging the goals in for fun. It was a good time to start being interested in football in Brighton.

Every Saturday afternoon, we’d have to traipse to my Nan and Grandad’s house to see the rest of the (large) family. The room was full of cigarette smoke and endlessly boring chatter. My Nan and I would watch the wrestling on ITV; Nan spitting venom at the baddies, me waiting for the football results to come up.

I’d sit patiently waiting for the Division III scores to come in, not having a clue where the Albion were playing, nor against whom on any given day. But we seemed to win most weeks, and we were always near the top of the table.

I’d been pestering Dad about when we could go to the Albion. I had no idea how dangerous it might have been – there was a lot of hooliganism back then – I just wanted to see my (as yet unseen) heroes play.

So it came to pass, we were on another visit to Hove one Saturday lunchtime in September 1978. I assumed I was merely accompanying Dad on another white spirit-sniffing escapade. We parked up somewhere nearby and, as we were walking along Old Shoreham Road past the North Stand turnstiles, he turned to me and said, “fancy watching the game...?”

HALLELUJAH!

We eventually found a turnstile to Dad’s liking leading to the terrace in the West Stand, north end. I had to go in a separate entrance to him, so Dad gave me my 20p to get in, and in I went. From there, everything was simply magic for me. All the things I’d dreamed going to a football match would be was all perfectly true.

I can vividly remember so many details – the sunny day, the loud noise from the North Stand about Peter Ward being magic, all being sung by skinny blokes in their late teens and early twenties with massively flared jeans and ridiculously androgynous hairdos. Scarves – blue and white, of course – were worn on wrists, and everyone smoked.

And I also learned a fair few words of Anglo-Saxon I only thought the naughty children in the playground said. I had no idea adults swore; I thought they’d grown out of
it by then.

We won 1-0 against Oldham Athletic. Wardy claimed the goal, but it went down as an own goal. I couldn’t see the south goal from where I was standing. So it was great when I saw Gary Williams (I recognised him from the Evening Argus) taking a corner. Peter O’Sullivan was flying down the wing. Brian Horton bawled lumps out of everyone, friend and foe...

As much as I’d pestered Dad to go before, this was nothing compared to how much I wanted to go again. He never did take me again though, so as soon as I could, I went on my own.

From the age of 12, I walked from our home near Preston Circus to The Goldstone Ground every home match, and took my place in the North Stand. I met up with a few of my schoolfriends there, and we had a good time. In the 19 years between my first and last game at the Goldstone, I probably went about 300 times.

While we’re at it, let’s call the Goldstone for what it was – a dump. Behind the North Stand, the food kiosk was next to the toilets, and most times you couldn’t tell which was which. As the years passed, the terraces were crumbling, neglected by the arrogant local businessmen who ran the club who seemed to care not one jot for the welfare of the lifeblood of the club – the supporters. But it was our dump, and we were proud of it. It was home.

So when it came to the club announcing that they were selling the ground and moving to Portsmouth, I was intrigued, then concerned, then outraged.
I’d kept my spot in the North Stand for years (aside from the times they closed it to build the new roof – and the time they handed it over to Pompey fans for one match). Now it seemed someone wanted to end all that; not just the Goldstone, the club. Some things are sacred; this must not happen.

The story of how things turned out between 1995 and 1997 is now the stuff of legend, and everyone who played their part knows who they are – as should every single Brighton fan. Me, I did more than some, less than others – but i can confidently raise my glass high and say with satisfaction that I was there.

But, like the Bobby Goldsboro song, I’ll go back in my mind, to the very first time - and that piece of magic, going to the football with my Dad, will stay with me forever.

As for now, 39 years on...