[Football] Your First Taste Of Football Hooliganism

[Eeyore]

All of my experiences were around 77-78.

The scariest was a home match against Portsmouth on 6th April 1977. Pompey had just lost 4-0 so their fans were already more than a little upset and looking to even the score in some way.* I was 15 at the time and two post match incidents from that game are ingrained in my memory.

The first one was particularly gruesome and the worst thing I ever personally saw at a match. Walking down Goldstone Lane (behind the East Stand) after the game there were a few interspersed skirmishes going on between rival fans.

I then saw a small group of Portsmouth fans approach a solitary Brighton fan and then one of them smashed a bottle over the*Brighton fan's head before ramming the broken shard full into his face leaving it streaming with blood. A few moments later a female police officer was trying to attend to him. The Portsmouth mob who were still hanging around then walked up to the female officer and the bloke they'd just glassed and started trying to pull him away from her, telling her he was their mate and they'd look after him. He resisted their attempts to pull him away, screaming that it was them who'd glassed him, whereupon they quickly disappeared.

Things were still kicking off all around us and in the confusion I got separated from the mate I was with. I eventually ended up outside Hove station still trying to find him, but there weren't any Brighton or even Pompey fans in sight.

Still on my own I decided to walk back down the steps at the side of the old Cliftonville pub at the top of Goldstone Villas, but as soon as I turned the corner and took the first step down I walked staight into a mob of about 100 or more Pompey fans who were surging up the steps towards me. It was too late for me to try and turn and run back up the steps as I'd literally walked straight into them before I realised my predicament, so trying to run away wasn't a feasible option.

Trying desperately to hide the sudden fear and panic in my eyes, especially after the gruesome event I'd witnessed earlier, I instinctively* thought on my feet and took*advantage of the fact that the blue and white striped scarf I was wearing matched Pompey's own colours. I tried to look pleased to see them as they surged up towards me, and rather than try and turn and run which would have been foolhardy, I simply turned round and walked back up the steps with them as if I was one of them. It was a little disconcerting as this manoeuvre meant I was now at the head of their mob, leading the way like their newly self-appointed "top boy", albeit a not very convincing looking one.

The knowledge that they were all immediately behind me with some having also drawn up level was extremely unsettling. I had no idea if I'd raised any suspicions as they wondered who this upstart was who was now leading their way, but I didn't dare look around me as I didn't want to meet anyone's eyes so I kept my gaze fixed firmly in front of me. I was terrified that at any moment I would be rumbled and pounced upon and given the kicking of my life.

I did my best to immerse myself in the role I'd accidentally stumbled into and as we marched along I let out the occasional feeble chant of "Pompey" in my desperation to give a more convincing performance. It obviously worked as the hiding I was expecting at any moment never materialised.

After a while I managed to peel myself away from them, but finding the right moment wasn't easy. I had to make sure I wouldn't be noticed doing so otherwise I could have drawn attention to myself and put myself in even greater danger. I was a bit trapped as I felt safer sticking with them than trying to seperate myself from them, but it had to be done otherwise I would have ended up catching the train back to Portsmouth with them, and I didn't think I'd be able to carry off my subterfuge for an entire train journey all the way back to Hampshire.

Years later I was watching The Walking Dead on Netflix and it came to the scene where the survivors smeared themselves in zombie blood and entrails so they could walk undetected amongst the zombie hoards while making their escape. Watching that scene immediately evoked memories of my own walk with death 40 years earlier.

I've got sweaty palms reading that.

 

[Pretty pink fairy]

View attachment 122159

i trust you were at this game
https://footballviolence.wordpress.com/2012/11/21/brighton-sheffield-utd-80s-2/
regards
DF

 

[The Wookiee]

The first season I started going regularly to away games was 87-88 in the Third Division. I've never been one for looking for trouble but that season it just found you over and over again. Southend away - went by coach with a mate from school but it still kicked off in the ground in the big corner terrace .

I’m pretty sure at that Southend game we were all in a big terrace behind the goal, the opposite end to where away fans are now.

Couple of pitch invasions and chaos after the game, think it made the front page of the argus.

Like you said, loads of trouble that season. Northampton away in the cup was bad !

 

[Guinness Boy]

I said i wasn't going to bother with this thread

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2lohm6
is this you
regards
DF

 

[Guinness Boy]

I’m pretty sure at that Southend game we were all in a big terrace behind the goal, the opposite end to where away fans are now.

Couple of pitch invasions and chaos after the game, think it made the front page of the argus.

Like you said, loads of trouble that season. Northampton away in the cup was bad !

Yep - Southend away end used to be a terrace at the other end to the current away end. Don't think it was that big behind the goal but it opened up into a big corner.

 

[Pretty pink fairy]

View attachment 122177

i'm off now, honest
regards
DF

 

[Mr Bridger]

All of my experiences were around 77-78.

The scariest was a home match against Portsmouth on 6th April 1977. Pompey had just lost 4-0 so their fans were already more than a little upset and looking to even the score in some way.* I was 15 at the time and two post match incidents from that game are ingrained in my memory.

The first one was particularly gruesome and the worst thing I ever personally saw at a match. Walking down Goldstone Lane (behind the East Stand) after the game there were a few interspersed skirmishes going on between rival fans.

I then saw a small group of Portsmouth fans approach a solitary Brighton fan and then one of them smashed a bottle over the*Brighton fan's head before ramming the broken shard full into his face leaving it streaming with blood. A few moments later a female police officer was trying to attend to him. The Portsmouth mob who were still hanging around then walked up to the female officer and the bloke they'd just glassed and started trying to pull him away from her, telling her he was their mate and they'd look after him. He resisted their attempts to pull him away, screaming that it was them who'd glassed him, whereupon they quickly disappeared.

Things were still kicking off all around us and in the confusion I got separated from the mate I was with. I eventually ended up outside Hove station still trying to find him, but there weren't any Brighton or even Pompey fans in sight.

Still on my own I decided to walk back down the steps at the side of the old Cliftonville pub at the top of Goldstone Villas, but as soon as I turned the corner and took the first step down I walked staight into a mob of about 100 or more Pompey fans who were surging up the steps towards me. It was too late for me to try and turn and run back up the steps as I'd literally walked straight into them before I realised my predicament, so trying to run away wasn't a feasible option.

Trying desperately to hide the sudden fear and panic in my eyes, especially after the gruesome event I'd witnessed earlier, I instinctively* thought on my feet and took*advantage of the fact that the blue and white striped scarf I was wearing matched Pompey's own colours. I tried to look pleased to see them as they surged up towards me, and rather than try and turn and run which would have been foolhardy, I simply turned round and walked back up the steps with them as if I was one of them. It was a little disconcerting as this manoeuvre meant I was now at the head of their mob, leading the way like their newly self-appointed "top boy", albeit a not very convincing looking one.

The knowledge that they were all immediately behind me with some having also drawn up level was extremely unsettling. I had no idea if I'd raised any suspicions as they wondered who this upstart was who was now leading their way, but I didn't dare look around me as I didn't want to meet anyone's eyes so I kept my gaze fixed firmly in front of me. I was terrified that at any moment I would be rumbled and pounced upon and given the kicking of my life.

I did my best to immerse myself in the role I'd accidentally stumbled into and as we marched along I let out the occasional feeble chant of "Pompey" in my desperation to give a more convincing performance. It obviously worked as the hiding I was expecting at any moment never materialised.

After a while I managed to peel myself away from them, but finding the right moment wasn't easy. I had to make sure I wouldn't be noticed doing so otherwise I could have drawn attention to myself and put myself in even greater danger. I was a bit trapped as I felt safer sticking with them than trying to seperate myself from them, but it had to be done otherwise I would have ended up catching the train back to Portsmouth with them, and I didn't think I'd be able to carry off my subterfuge for an entire train journey all the way back to Hampshire.

Years later I was watching The Walking Dead on Netflix and it came to the scene where the survivors smeared themselves in zombie blood and entrails so they could walk undetected amongst the zombie hoards while making their escape. Watching that scene immediately evoked memories of my own walk with death 40 years earlier.

I was waiting for the bit at the end where you forced to find the bloke who got bottled and give him another shoeing

 

[sams dad]

Millwall away at the old Den in 1966 was the first serious trouble I encountered. I was 13 at the time and it was my first season of following the Albion away from home.
A large Brighton following had congregated in the Cold Blow Lane end, and right up until a few minutes before kick off all was quiet.
Then the Millwall fans surged in from behind the terrace, and proceeded to kick and punch all and sundry.
Brighton fans scattered in all directions, and things quitened down.
Millwall scored 2 early goals which placated the locals for a while, but when the Albion had the temerity to score twice to even things up, it all kicked off again.
Millwall scored again and won the game, which probably saved the Brighton fans from further trouble.
It was a very scary walk back to the station, and I was glad to finally get on the train and get out of New Cross.

 

[rogersix]

you know nothing about what i do or don't do though
regards
DF

problem is, neither do you barren

 

[Weststander]

Millwall away at the old Den in 1966 was the first serious trouble I encountered. I was 13 at the time and it was my first season of following the Albion away from home.
A large Brighton following had congregated in the Cold Blow Lane end, and right up until a few minutes before kick off all was quiet.
Then the Millwall fans surged in from behind the terrace, and proceeded to kick and punch all and sundry.
Brighton fans scattered in all directions, and things quitened down.
Millwall scored 2 early goals which placated the locals for a while, but when the Albion had the temerity to score twice to even things up, it all kicked off again.
Millwall scored again and won the game, which probably saved the Brighton fans from further trouble.
It was a very scary walk back to the station, and I was glad to finally get on the train and get out of New Cross.

A very early story of organised football trouble. Previously, I’d read stuff about the beginnings being huge numbers of supporters of clubs such as Liverpool travelling the country by train for violence in the early 60’s.

With a lack of TV cameras, 60’s hooliganism rarely gets mentioned.

 

[el punal]

In the late 60s when Albion weren't playing at home I used to go up to London with a mate to catch a game. We saw Fulham vs Leeds, at some stage a hoard of Leeds supporters (probably no more than 10) ran through the open terraces causing mayhem and stopped by my mate & I, "if you Leeds supporters you're coming with us, if you're ffffing Fulham we'll punch you in the teeth, what are ye we're Brighton Supporters we replied ehhhh? and they ran off.....

I posted something like this before, anyway here goes - in 1978 I was working in Manchester and decided to go to Maine Road for a mid-week match between Man City and Nottingham Forest. At the time Forest were top of the old Division One and close to winning the title.

When I arrived at the ground the queues to get in were enormous so I rocked up at the shortest line which were for the Forest fans and in I went. As the match progressed I was getting strange looks from the Forest fans, probably thinking I was a City interloper, and some hostile evils from the City fans close to the segregation fence where I was standing thinking I was Forest. Luckily I had my Albion scarf in my coat pocket so in the name of neutrality and my well being decided to wear it. It did the trick and I got some friendly comments from both lots of fans and so enjoyed the rest of the match in peace and tranquillity.

 

[Harry Wilson's tackle]

A very early story of organised football trouble. Previously, I’d read stuff about the beginnings being huge numbers of supporters of clubs such as Liverpool travelling the country by train for violence in the early 60’s.

With a lack of TV cameras, 60’s hooliganism rarely gets mentioned.

My dad was a Millwall supporter in ths 1930s. Sharpened coins were thrown. If that is fit for warm reminiscence, or any of the other bollocks that passes for a good day out, tell that to Mark Raven of this parish

 

[Easy 10]

.

Southend Utd v Cardiff c1977

Sitting in the car with my school friend and his dad waiting to get out of the car park, 8 'diff fans 4 on each side of the car trying to flip it over...

Lucky it was a British Leyland lump

More lucky that they were thick enough to have 4 on each side of the car when they were trying to flip it.

Not the smartest, Cardiff.

 

[Tokyohands]

Was that the game where a dozen or so Pompey kicked out the wooden hoarding at the top of the East Stand causing the North Stand to run away?

I do especially remember that as I was on the pitch being a hard 12 year old giving them the V..... Then ran away....

 

[pasty]

My first Albion away match was the same season at Spurs age 12, that was pretty scary.

I was at that one, and a similar age to you. Myself and a few mates were right down at the front when it kicked off in the Brighton end and got lifted out and moved to an empty section by a policeman, My older brother then managed to get hold of another policeman to ask what had happened to us, only to be told "they've probably been ****ing nicked mate"

 

[Dr Bandler]

Millwall away at the old Den in 1966 was the first serious trouble I encountered. I was 13 at the time and it was my first season of following the Albion away from home.
A large Brighton following had congregated in the Cold Blow Lane end, and right up until a few minutes before kick off all was quiet.
Then the Millwall fans surged in from behind the terrace, and proceeded to kick and punch all and sundry.
Brighton fans scattered in all directions, and things quitened down.
Millwall scored 2 early goals which placated the locals for a while, but when the Albion had the temerity to score twice to even things up, it all kicked off again.
Millwall scored again and won the game, which probably saved the Brighton fans from further trouble.
It was a very scary walk back to the station, and I was glad to finally get on the train and get out of New Cross.

January 1978 at the Old Den was my first introduction to scary away games, while a callow teenager. As you remember, there was no segregation at The Den in those days, and we stayed quiet for the whole game, including when Peter Ward scored a brilliant goal. It might have ben becuase an older chap was brandishing a broken bottle when we arrived. When that goal went in, a load of Albion in the seats jumped up to celebrate (we didn't even know any were there), but they soon disappared down the exits!

Unique place, Millwall in those days. Cardiff was also horrible then.

 

[Freddie Goodwin.]

In the late 60's - early 70's we had a bitter rivalry with....Luton Town.
They had a really good team with the likes of Nichol & Rioch and were going places. having won Div 4 they were storming Div and taking huge numbers away.
They came to the Goldstone in numbers and were in the North(I was in the west. Looked like all sorts going on and, after the match, in Hove Park too. Luton missed out on promotion that year but succeeded the following season with Albion missing out but there was an infamous game at Kennilworth Road which made the national news.

 

[Weststander]

Only looking up an old Albion match, I came across this. Extracts from a book by Nick Lowles.
https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=g_hmDwAAQBAJ&pg=PT217&lpg=PT217&dq=1976+palace+goldstone+ground+smoke+bombs&source=bl&ots=IY1kUER4D2&sig=ACfU3U2HgKrhEqUvz4nkTUXtJ_N_V5uJcA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwirj6jKgbfpAhX-UhUIHY2lBHUQ6AEwC3oECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=1976%20palace%20goldstone%20ground%20smoke%20bombs&f=false

 

[neilbard]

Start of the 2016-17 season some bloke had a tear up when Barber took the free teas and coffees away in the 1901.

 

[Neville's Breakfast]

I remember a group of Southampton fans with attitude walking up Queen's Road on a bank holiday years ago. I looked it up recently and it was January 1978. it was a bit threatening, although there was no fisticuffs. I was 8. Where was PPF to protect me from my angst ?

My first proper experience was at my, I think, sixth away match. Oldham Athletic in 1986. There were always problems there. It's nearly always at the smaller places.

Oxford springs to mind.
Also Chesterfield. Rounding up the family in the car park outside the Labour Club while it all went off around us after the game.
No idea what my first experience was though as they all merge into one in the old Goldstone days. I remember having stones thrown at us when we accidentally ended up in the midst of Fulham fans being chased by Brighton when heading back to the car after a game.