TWO wins on the bounce. Ah yes, I remember this. Wins by two clear goals. Must be Christmas.
Leicester City was great. A nice pub before the game, a load of mates going up, something called a ‘Morrissey burger’ beforehand and, in my case, a new ground. Hi, my name is Karl and I am a ‘new ground’ bore. (‘Hi, Karl’).
Leicester’s new stadium/newly-titled stadium is alright, I suppose. It’s safe and clean and commands an excellent view of the pitch, which is not a boast our Main Stand can make. The stewards are friendly too, particularly the man who laughed when I inadvertently tried to gain access to the ground with an expired Morrissey ticket I’d left in my pocket from Saturday night. Turns out he’s a fan and wished he’d gone.
It’s not the real ground though. To my mind, Leicester, or Leicester Fosse if you want to be even more retro, always played at Filbert Street so the Walkers Bowl/King Power Whatsit can sod off. I’m pleased enough to walk past the actual Filbert Street though. If you’re interested and a fellow new ground bore, you’ll be delighted to know that it’s now a car park with a large circular office tower on the corner. I didn’t take a photo or anything. I’m not dangerous.
There’s a risk to all this. Nostalgia comes easy to a man running headlong into his fifties and I appreciate that misty-eyed reminiscence of grounds/car parks/factory sites don’t hold much allure for the younger fan, but give an old man his moment. Some people just collect grounds, that’s all.
I’d never been to Filbert Street, Ayresome Park, the Baseball Ground, Vetch Field or Burnden Park. I’m no stranger to their new incarnations save for Derby but I feel like I’ve missed something. I’ve walked past Roker Park and not gone in. Why did I do that? Why? I bitterly regret that moment of nonchalant, laissez-faire attitude. I have, however, broken into the stand at the Aggborough Stadium, Kidderminster when a) a gate was open and b) so was the toilet. That somehow makes up for it.
Maybe, you collect them too and can reel off favourite stands or mentally point to a leaky roof at Turf Moor or a rusted stantion at Bramall Lane. I’ve kicked a ball around Gigg Lane, Bury. I can say I’ve lived.
Yes, Leicester was great. Cambiasso’s miss came minutes after I’d told my neighbour that he ‘still has it’. Then there was Mignolet’s magnificent flapping at their goal. After a while it’s healthy to take the stress out of moments like that and wonder just how funny it would be if it happened in any other goalmouth in the world other than that one. Then there were the goals – Gerrard’s two fingers up to everyone apart from those gathered before him and, my favourite, Jordan Henderson’s 1970’s run with both arms above his head. I half expected him to raise one arm and hold his sleeve with curled fingers like Leeds’ Allan ‘Sniffer’ Clarke.
As for the ground though…well…
Look, it’s tiresome when people say ‘yes, but it was better when…’ but so many of the new grounds are mere identikit stadia. Paint the King Power white and it becomes Pride Park. Add a heavy coat of red and it’s St Mary’s. They’re all the bloody same. I like unusual grounds. Cardiff’s has much to recommend it – mostly because there’s a section in the away end that can’t be accessed from any row of stairs. Instead, you have to play the ‘scuse me mate’ game to dozens of fans as they stand to let you through. If anyone was there last season I’m talking about the back rows in the away end on the side, not behind the goal. How that’s safe is beyond me.
I also like that the stewards gave out an ‘Away Fan Pack’ outside the turnstiles. It contained detailed instructions about how to get to the ground. I can’t help but feel that that particular vessel of useful information had long since sailed at that point. Still. New ground. Done.
The worst loss is Highbury. Jeez, I loved that ground. Everything about it was traditional. Tucked into a housing estate, you had to queue in a street with no sight of the ground unless you were 10 or 12 people away from the front. One minute you were outside someone’s house, the next you were at the gates. It was like a surprise when you realised that you were going in. Also, and this is a big deal, the sides weren’t filled in. I like that. That massive space between the North Bank and East Stand was beautiful. Ewood Park used to have a whole sloped field where you could watch the game from outside. Ibrox had something similar involving a railing gate.
Highbury had proper ends too. The Clock End was nice but those who were stuck in the low, corner flag bit of the West Stand had little chance of seeing anything that went above head height. This was the same letterbox view that many towards the back of the lower Annie Rd will recognise. It was a great ground, but that’s all gone now and what has progress given us? The Emirates Stadium. The nice big comfy Emirates. It’s beautifully constructed. You can see every blade of grass from every seat, it’s easy to get in and the seats are padded sufficiently to welcome the gauntest buttock. It’s lovely.
I absolutely hate it.
That’s not a football ground. That’s a picnic area for families. That’s a cinema. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot. Even the food is nice. Who asked for this? What brave new world did we ask for?
I know, I know. Safety, merchandise, fan experience, family occasion, friendly game, lovely facilities etc. Sod that. I want to stand under a giant clock in the rain. That was half the fun. The Emirates is too nice, too big. A mate of mine claims that the larger a pub is the worse it is. I fully support that view. I’ve taken to middle age like a natural.
I’ve also just realised that this could be a call for the Blues not to be redevelop Goodison. I didn’t mean to but I’m taking the opportunity. Don’t do it. It’s great because it’s horrible. The rotten wood really sets it off.
In 2008 I visited all 92 grounds with a couple of mates. We liked Saltergate, Chesterfield and Brunton Park, Carlisle United the best. We frowned and harrumphed at the Withdean and the Riverside. This is common for new ground bores.
So, Leicester is done and judging by last night it may be a while before we go back. I just need Forest, Ipswich and Rotherham to go up in May.
Actually need.
Pics: David Rawcliffe
Loved this Karl,
As a young boy in the early eighties living on the west Coast of Ireland I had an odd obsession with English football grounds,
Kick started by one years panini sticker album that had pics of grounds in the background of each teams page,
Which lead me to spend most of my school days drawing imaginary stadia from a birds eye view,
My first visit to Anfield was 84/85 season versus Sunderland (1-1 Paul Walsh) but I spent most of the game gawking at the stadium (to my dads disgust) but I just couldn’t help myself.
Hey derek,
Must have been something in the water out in the West of Ireland. I was worryingly obsessed with English and Scottish football grounds.
I too was collecting Panini stickers from around 1984, and for some inexplicable reason I loved the Hearts strip and crest…. (probably because they copied the Galway United colours!)……perhaps this is why I ended up in Scotland. The weirdest parallel though is the obsessive artwork. My mum at home, still has drawings I sketched of Anfield from four different perspectives, flags, scarves, steps between sections, floodlights, fans, players in action, scoreboard (in my drawings we were always winning!) ….the lot! I guess the magic that I dreamt of then is really in perspective with the Spion1906 organised flag/banner protest over spiralling ticket prices. Oh to be young and carefree…and to be winning titles nearly every year.
– (in my drawings we were always winning!) – haha back then we always did!
Brought on a bout of nostalgia for me reading that. Hope you don’t mind me sharing it but for me the article provoked memories of Chester’s new ground compared to the old one. The old ground was a huge part of my life growing up.
The ground was less than a mile from my house. We lived on the estate and you had to cross 3 fields to get to it. My mum still lives in the house and surprisingly the fields are still there. When you cross the fields though the difference is unbelievable, well actually it’s completely believable in 2014.
As a kid in the early 80’s I made that trip across the fields a few times a week at least. When you arrived at the end of the third field there was a brook you had to cross. It was so full of shopping trolleys you could always get across. On the other side you climbed through a hole in a concrete wall and you were in the skateboard park. It was all grey concrete covered in graffiti. In the centre of the bowls was about a foot a putrid green water with breeze blocks in. In the 70’s it was used for skateboards but by our time it was decaying and people only used it with bikes.
Chester’s training ground was next to the skateboard park so if the ball went over the bar it would end up in the skaty. 10 foot off the touchline was the back of the away end. That was a kop with big rocks sticking out the ground. As you got over the back of the kop it sloped down into a 100 foot wide scrubland with trees and broken concrete then a barbed wire fence which led onto the training ground. That was the way in for us. We then had to climb a 5 foot mesh fence to get into the main stand, when the police weren’t looking, and from there you were allowed into the Sealand Road end, behind the goal. My memory as a kid is sitting on the wooden beam across the back stand watching the fans and police have 20 minute brawls. Not saying that’s good but it’s incredible to think back what football was like then. Eventually, I played for Junior Blues and we had matches on the training pitch on Saturday morning, then at midday we’d clean the players boots and then get in free so we’d be in the ground from about 1 running riot.
As you came out the main stand you walked 20 metres and you were in the greyhound park. They were just brilliant days. On a Friday night we were always there, everyone was. It was always the same crowd there and they’d put 10p on a dog for us (but always took the stake back if it won). The atmosphere was electric. It feels like a dream now because it was gone by about 1986. I can still remember the sights, smells and sounds of it.
As you come out of the Sealand Road end there was a main road with a Kwik Save on the other side. It was in there I got my first experience of knowing I had a weird name. It’d never crossed my mind beforehand. 4 of us got nicked shoplifting white socks (they were must have items at the time). Anyway, the police asked my name and when I told him he said ‘yeah, and I’m fuckin father Christmas, now what’s your name’. Same thing happened at Anfield a few years ago when I got pulled for supposedly touting (I wasn’t). He threatened to take me to the van unless I gave my real name. His colleague thought it was the funniest thing ever.
Apologies, I just wanted to share that because now the whole area is a huge retail park called the Greyhound Park. It’s a soulless, homogenised place in comparison. The ground moved a mile further out down an industrial road on a brownfield site. Unfortunately, for Chester it’s now in Wales as we’re on the border. Again, it’s a soulless place, all perfect with it’s 4 new stands and light grey (new) concrete. The worse thing though is it’s remoteness. There’s no town in England with a ground further away from the train station than Chester. There are no buildings down there even. I’ve been to nearly all the grounds of the north and they were all in housing estates. It added to the ambiance. The song ‘Wasteland’ by The Jam best sums up those days for me. Dilapidated concrete, rusty corrugated iron, shit everywhere but then equally a thing of real beauty. I think The Stone Roses also used that concept with the stone being dull and grey and the roses being the thing of beauty. It also reflected their music – jangly guitars and tender lyrics. Growing up in the 80’s was an amazing thing and football and the ground played a huge part in that. I honestly feel sorry for my kids that their lives are so sanitised. They too go to the Greyhound Park but they sit in Macdonalds.
Nice story, Robin, and although I’m sucker for this sort of reflective memory stuff myself, there’s a very good reason why we look back on times like that with such fondness. It’s not because going to footy in the 80s really was better than today, but because *we were young*.
“There’s no town in England with a ground further away from the train station than Chester.”
I love football-related facts like that. By way of thanks:
Which league club plays its home games the closest to the Mersey?
Come off it Brownie, Stockport.
Bastard.
Okay, that’s one for southerners. I admit.
Haha. Jesus mate, my favourite programme is the Eggheads and you try that old chestnut on me. Dear me.
I’m off to Barnsley on Sunday. FA Cup 2nd round. We’ve got over 2000 going yet remarkably its pay on the door.
Here’s a simple one for you. There’s only one letter that’s used once in a British football clubs name. What’s the letter and what’s the club. So it can’t be x as you have Wrexham, Crewe, Halifax, Oxford etc.
J, St Johnstone?
Yeah, too easy mate. That’s the only football trivia question i know. Heard it in the 80’s and still try it.
For what it’s worth, I’m really glad you posted that, a really interesting insight into an era before my birth.
Is a stupid place for a football ground that, unless your coming by car from Wales. Did a bit of work in the chronicle and post print site up there about 10 years ago and the stadium just didn’t look right where it was. Where was the original ground then closer to the raceground?
The ground now is at the bottom of a long road. If you go back up that road to the main road then the ground was directly opposite the junction on the site of the current Tesco Home.
The walk from the train station to seal and road was miles, never mind the new ground. I remember vividly a Sherpa van trophy tie in the 80s Roger Preece on the score sheet for us who later went on to play for Chester. 2-0 to Wrexham final score. The reason I remember it so vividly is that on returning home that evening across the border into North Wales the story of the Lockerbie bombing was breaking on the radio.
I remember being in the Kop one day in the sixties when our perspiration condensed on the roof and fell like rain.
I remember being on the Kop one day in thr sixties when we scored at the Annie Risf end but it was foggy and we couldn’t see…chanted “Who scored the goal, who scored the goal?” They answered “Roger Hunt! Roger Hunt!!”
I remember being on the Kop one day in the sixties when someone peed down my leg.
You tell the kids that today, they wouldn’t believe yer…
‘The stewards are friendly too, particularly the man who laughed when I inadvertently tried to gain access to the ground with an expired Morrissey ticket I’d left in my pocket from Saturday night. Turns out he’s a fan and wished he’d gone.’
Uncle went to that. Said he was in top form which is nice.
Enjoyed that, Karl. Cheers.
“I just need Forest, Ipswich and Rotherham to go up in May.”
Despite not going to games too often, I’ve actually been to two of those (though sadly not to see Liverpool). I’ve probably been to more slightly random grounds with mates than the big places, weirdly…
J – St Johnstone
Yeah mate, well done!
I gather Brentford are about to make the same mistake in leaving Griffin Park.
I loved the way you could have a beer, go around the corner and enter the ground.
It was surrounded by houses and people were just stepping out their front doors, walking 20 yards and into the ground. The way it should be.
Sigh.
Always remember going into the North Bank for the FA Cup Semi-Final against Pompey in 1992 with my Dad and Uncle. Had a piss in the urinals, which were open to the elements and had weeds and plants growing out of them. Earthy, real and edgy. Loved it! Went back a few years later to watch an Arsenal game against Leeds, with my cousin (an Arsenal fan). Bruce Rioch was in charge, the football was dire, the crowd constantly wanted Ian Wright to come off the bench and even Bergkamp was average. The North bank had been redeveloped and it was just a soulless void.