Post by gazz on Dec 4, 2013 23:30:56 GMT
Dennis (playing associate of BBLW)
bringbacklenwhite
I will not refer to Dennis by his surname for obvious reasons (mainly because it doesn't start with D). He was the leading U16's goal scorer in North West Derbyshire in the late 60's and early 70's. I hold the distinction of being the only goalkeeper he never scored against mainly because he played in the same Sunday League team as me and on the day we played against his school he was injured and out of the game.
Dennis was signed by Stockport County as a 15 year old and made his way through the youth set up and reserves. The end of the season approached and he had made superb progress. On the Wednesday he was playing for the reserves when the manager informed him that he was going to give him a start in the first team on Saturday - the last game and of no importance to either team.
Sadly, that night in the reserve team match, Dennis broke his leg in an innocuous challenge. Not only did that put him out of the next match, but he never played competitive football again.
So children (and adults), the moral of the story is do your homework, try hard at your exams because nothing is ever written in tablets of stone in this life. Fortunately Dennis had an education to fall back on.
Determination
bigfudge
A feeling shared by every single fan of this great club, we may not be the biggest and we certainly aren't the best but County means something to every one of us, as said before County is like a family member or best friend, you don't always get on, but you'll never stop loving them.
As parents, children, friends and co-workers, we feel determined to make sure everybody knows that we are Stockport County fans and we are proud of this, we are determined that we will never switch our alligences to our more glamourous neighbours United and City, we are determined that however many false dawns and relegations we have to suffer, we will be there when the sun finally does come out over Edgeley, and we will stand together, knowing that we have done, ourselves, our club and our town proud with our weeks, months and years of unconditional, unwaivering, blind love and passion.
We are determined to be Stockport County!
Danny Bergara Day
Sir Roger
“Stockport County have designated Saturday's friendly against Cardiff City as Danny Bergara Day as tribute to their former manager who sadly passed away on Wednesday morning.
County boss Jim Gannon and his Cardiff counterpart Dave Jones, who were both brought to Edgeley Park by the Uruguayan, will lay floral tributes in the Cheadle End goalmouth before the game.
And both sets of players will wear black armbands as a mark of respect to the man who was, without question, the catalyst for the Hatters outstanding success in the 1990s
The Uruguayan will always be remembered for leading County to promotion from Division Four in 1991 after two decades in the basement division.
Four Wembley appearances followed in just two years before he left the club in 1995 to be replaced by Jones who, in 1997, lifted the Hatters into English football's second tier for the first time in 60 years with a number of Bergara's players at the heart of his team.
A feature of the games at Wembley was the vocal support given by the County faithful and the non-stop chant of 'Danny Bergara's Blue & White Army' against Port Vale in 1993 has gone down in Hatters folklore.
And, at the request of a number of supporters, the club will break with tradition on Saturday and encourage fans to give a two-minute rendition of the same song, rather than the usual minute's silence or applause, as their own personal tribute to one of County's best-loved and greatest ever managers.
How about dusting down your early 90s shirts and wearing them as well?
Kick off time against the Bluebirds is 3.00pm.”
Nothing more for me to add to that, other than to say it was a very emotional day and am very proud and privileged to have been there.
Danny Bergara, a true County Legend.
Disappointment
sandbachhatter
By the bucket load.
Danny Bergara
dudleyhatter
Sir Rog, I was on holiday in the south of France when the news broke. I spent about 3 hours reading all I could on line and then went down and sat looking at the sea for a long time. He was the man who turned our club from a laughing stock (amongst those who had heard of us) into a club to be respected. He gave me a true reason to have pride in our club. That is to say it was a rational pride rather than the current irrational pride I still have!
Darlington (away)
bringbacklenwhite
My first ever away game was at Darlington. FA Cup - late 60's again.
New Mills Grammar School had a hard core following at the time and we arranged our own bus to the game. A misty trip across the Pennines via Barnsley, Huddersfield and Scotch Corner, to what felt like the end of the earth.
Darlington is a pleasant market town totally unprepared for 1500 county fans descending on it. The old ground (Feetham's) being next to the cricket pitch which you had to walk round to gain access.
A boring 0-0 draw - but the highlight of the day was when 2 of our tribe decided to cross the street at different times whilst carrying our 8 foot banner head high. The material ripped in half and instant repairs were needed.
The dear old lady in the haberdashery shop nearly passed out when half a dozen teenage "yobs" walked and asked for "a box of safety pins, please".
Repairs concluded, the pins did there job and the banner remained in place throughout the game only to be ditched in the river before the journey home.
Footnote - drew the replay at home 1-1, lost the 3rd game 4-2 at Leeds Utd (no pen shoot outs in those days)
Recent events at Darlo bring the memories flooding back.
Dragonfly
Sir Roger

Sybil Fawlty: [to a customer who has just given Basil a tip for a horse race] Basil doesn't bet on the horses anymore, [to Basil]
Sybil Fawlty: Do you?
Basil Fawlty: No, that particular avenue of pleasure has been closed off.
Sybil Fawlty: And we don't want it opened up again, do we?
Basil Fawlty: No, you don't dear.
Manuel: Mr.Fawlty! You horse. It win!
Basil Fawlty: Manuel, shhh-shh-shh *you* *know* *nothing*.
Manuel: You always say that, Mr. Fawlty. But I learn. I learn, I learn.
Basil Fawlty: No-no-no, you don't understand.
Manuel: I do. I do understand!
Basil Fawlty: Shhh-shh. You know nothing about the horse.
Manuel: I know nothing about the horse. Which horse? Which horse I know nothing?
Basil Fawlty: My horse, nitwit!
Manuel: Your horse Nitwit.
Basil Fawlty: No-no-no. Dragonfly.
Manuel: Dragonfly. It won!
Basil Fawlty: Yes, I know!
Manuel: I know it won too! I put money on for you. You give me money. I go to betting shop.
Basil Fawlty: Yes, I know, I know.
Manuel: Why you say I know nothing?
Basil Fawlty: [desperately] Look, you know the horse.
Manuel: Dragonfly or Nitwit?
Basil Fawlty: Dragonfly! There isn't a horse called Nitwit. You're the Nitwit!
Manuel: What is Witnit?
Basil Fawlty: It doesn't matter. Oh, I can spend the rest of my life having this conversation. Please, please, try to understand until one of us dies. You're going to forget everything you know about Nitwit.
Sybil Fawlty: You're looking very happy Basil.
Basil Fawlty: Happy? Ah yes, I remember that.
Sybil Fawlty: You know what I'll do if I find out that money is yours?
Basil Fawlty: [calling after her] You'd have to sew 'em back on first.
Sunday, 17th January 1993: Millwall -v- Brentford - Adventures of a Neutral at The Den
hatter in macc
I've visited some pretty scary, and sometimes downright dangerous, places in this big old world, and if ever I get around, as blokes are wont to do sometimes, to listing them in rank-order, I'd be sure of including Millwall's former ground.
There is a very loose County connection to my one and only appearance at The (old) Den, as it fell on the Sunday of a weekend which I had spent down in London ostensibly to watch us getting beaten by the odd goal in three by Fulham. My Sunday train home was not due to leave until the early evening, and, for want of anything better to do, I decided to head south-eastwards and watch my second game in as many days.
The old ground where the 'Lions' plyed their trade and sharpened their claws was nestled within a maze of dank and depessing streets around New Cross, and, wending my way through them from the local station, I could all too easily imagine how they would have provided the setting for many a Dickensian-type alleyway murder. On reaching the ground, I decided that, with it being a local(ish) derby, I would probably be safest standing with the home fans, and, having had my overnight bag checked by the 'Old Bill' for crowbars, machetes and pices of lead piping, I took my place by a barrier approximately halfway up a terrace behind a goal.
All was relatively quiet around me as kick-off approached, even though the terrace had become pretty crowded - but, just as I was beginning to think that I was in for a relaxing afternoon, I was suddenly conscious, as the teams walked onto the pitch, of a humming from the locals stood around me which, within moments, rose to a near-deafening crescendo of "M-M-M-I-I-I-L-L-L-W-W-W-A-A-A-L-L-L-L-L-L!"!
I had never heard anything so meancing, or loud, in my footballing life. And then the chanting REALLY started...none of which I can repeat in full on here. Suffice to say, the Macc Songbook that I carry around in my head was...how shall I put it...'educated' in the ninety minutes that followed that day.
Not that I had a great deal of time to get my thoughts around the new songs. For, with less than ten minutes on the clock, Millwall scored...and there I was, all of a sudden, a few steps further down the terrace, having been flung forward by the surge that greeted the goal. I was separated from my overnight bag in the process, and very relieved to find that it had remained wedged behind the barrier where I had left it - although it did take me more than a few minutes to climb through the crowd back up the steps to regain my original position...and I felt, frankly, knackered from the ordeal.
"My God", I thought to myself, "I hope they don't get another goal..."
That afternoon saw them score six. The b*st*rds.
Of course, by the time the 'Wall - playing, incidentally, what looked like some pretty classy stuff (urged on by their Manager, one Mick McCarthy), when I was able to concentrate on the game itself - popped in their sixth, I had perfected a way of simultaneously hanging on to my bag and to the barrier which meant that I was no longer thrown around during the goal celebrations. But, by that time, eighty minutes of the match had passed, and, with a 'New Den' being ready to open its gates at the start of the next season, there was no chance of my ever being able to put this technique to good use again.
"Facking great that, wannit?", said a chirpy bloke who'd ended up standing alongside, and nattering with, me for the latter part of the game. (He'd probably been right at the top of the terrace when the game kicked off.) "Coming next time, mate?"
"Yeah, sure", I replied - knowing full well that, when he didn't find me there, I'd always have the excuse of having gone with the flow of the crowd...
More experiences of the Den
archie
Started work in London in September 1970 and set about checking out all the grounds asap - certainly an entry in 'J' for Tommy Jenkins when we get there. All in all that season I managed over 60 games as a spectator despite playing on most Saturdays myself but, given that I would usually nominally support the away team, the trip to the Den was an education to someone who'd been to most of the grounds in the North West and the West Midlands with no problem at all.
The problem was, basically, that Millwall got beaten by Sheffield United who, I think, were promoted that season. Everything was ok if a little fevered at the start but then United scored and the atmosphere became poisonous. I'm not certain about the rest of it but I remember that United won 2-1 and that there was absolutely no prospect of supporting them in public. It really was the worst and most dangerous atmosphere I've experienced in football.
downunderhatter
downunderhatter
1970 - Born, Stepping Hill Hospital.
1976 - Got taken to my first game... at Maine Road!
1981 - Played for Stockport Junior Blues.
1982 - Went to first County game.
1992 - Moved to Edgeley, became a regular at EP and in Royal Oak. Started playing in the SDSFL.
1999 - Moved away from Edgeley.
2000 - Became secretary/chairman/treasurer/kit-washer/confidante/psychologist/money-lender for aforementioned SDSFL team.
2001 - Trips to EP become less frequent due to family/work/football commitments.
2003 - Became disillusioned with UK.
2005 - Quit SDSFL team and played in Manchester Vets League.
2007/8 - Saw last ever County game away at Wrexham.
2008 - Emigrated to Perth, WA.
2010 - Started playing in the Masters (Vets) league.
2011 - Won Players' Player Of The Season.
2012 - Who knows?
Dressing Room
bringbacklenwhite
Have been treated to a variety of changing rooms from the shared tap (Birch Vale) the communal bath (Curzon Ashton) the open plan 30 teams at a time (Princess Way - I think - Manchester) to a tin bath per team (Didsbury) with a water heater that was about to explode..
Worst professional changing room - The Old Wooden Bloomfield Road, Blackpool - referees' room. 2 metal chairs with stretch canvas seats (1 ripped), 5 nails on a wooden frame, a black and white TV and a shower that looked like something out of Belsen. Witnessed and survived when I was officiating at the Blackpool Schools' Cup Final.
There is a well worn story about a top manager (no doubt someone will come up with his name) who painted the home team room in vivid red to fire up his own players and had the away team room done out in a relaxing pale blue. Mind games !!!
Worst thing though is when the manager has "lost the dressing room" making it sound like something that would be handed in at the Lost Property Counter at the local police station. It may be there next to the "crowd" lost by an old favourite player and the "legs" lost by the winger who went on too long in his career.
What is your best and worst experience of the dressing rooms you have endured ?
Dressing Room pt2
archie
Worst changing room experience was undoubtably playing for United Banks against the Royal Marines down in Hampshire. Chilly day, muddy pitch, only cold showers. Ok, plenty of park facilities as bad or worse but not what you'd expect at that level and not ideal if you've a long coach trip back to London to follow.
Playing on the Banks circuit in the early 70s, most had decent facilities but they were generally hosting half a dozen sides so could be quite crowded. Best was probably the Bank of England ground at Roehampton which was a smaller complex but perfectly formed and used by the national team for training.
The only league grounds I played at were Orient and Dagenham (non-league in those days but still the same ground I think) and they were ok but no more than that.
Dogs in Football
bringbacklenwhite
Most famous football dog has to be Pickles who found the World Cup in 1966 (re-edited from my original faux pas where I typed 1996 !) when it was stolen on tour of England prior to the Finals in that year.
Jimmy Greaves famously went down on all fours to "collar" a canine pitch invader during his career.
And we must not forget John Terrier and Didier Drogber (over to you punsters for other candidates).
My favourite circus act was the one with two teams of boxer dogs playing football with a balloon. One side in red and one side in blue. My goodness how we laughed at those cannine capers !!!!
Latest addition to the hall of fame has to be Rosie47. Well done Harry.
Dogs in football - pt 2
hatter in macc
Another dog (for whom I don't have a name) of footballing infamy was the one that ran onto the pitch at Colchester some forty years ago, and upended the Brentford 'keeper, Chic Brodie, breaking Brodie's kneecap and ending his professional career in the process.
Brodie's phlegmatic take on the (televised, and oft-shown) incident in the years that followed: "The dog may have been small...it just happened to be solid."
D is for Dudloy
dudleyhatter
Doe wuree fowks eye ay gunna spayk lowcul
Born 71 in Wythenshawe
Lived in Didsbury and Heaton Mersey until age of six attending St Winifred's but luckily moved Hazel Grove before the choir got on top of the pops!
Went to a rugby playing school and discovered I could run with a pb of 10:90 for 100m no Usain but still pretty quick.
Moved to the midlands in 1989 and so missed out on the glory years being a poor student or father of young kids. Made of course to all 4 wembley trips.
Always wanted to be a primary school teacher and am still doing the job I love.
My son's first game was at EP we were rubbish and lost 1-4 to Crewe. He is now a season ticket holder at St Andrews with his grandad but still takes pity on his dad and attends games with me!
Still sulking about the lost epistle from earlier so that's your lot!
Dressing Rooms pt 3
bringbacklenwhite
Found this on Wiki:-
The athletic director of the University of New Mexico wasn't trying to be funny when he decorated his football team's dressing room in bright red and their opponent's quarters in pale blue pastels. Alonzo Stagg, while head coach at Chicago, employed similar strategy when he had two dressing rooms for his players - one painted blue for rest periods, and the other painted red for fight talks. Both men were simply using smart color psychology.
With a name like Alonzo Stagg I expect the Punmeisters to have a field day !!
Coaching should be about providing football for children, not children for football !
bringbacklenwhite
I will not refer to Dennis by his surname for obvious reasons (mainly because it doesn't start with D). He was the leading U16's goal scorer in North West Derbyshire in the late 60's and early 70's. I hold the distinction of being the only goalkeeper he never scored against mainly because he played in the same Sunday League team as me and on the day we played against his school he was injured and out of the game.
Dennis was signed by Stockport County as a 15 year old and made his way through the youth set up and reserves. The end of the season approached and he had made superb progress. On the Wednesday he was playing for the reserves when the manager informed him that he was going to give him a start in the first team on Saturday - the last game and of no importance to either team.
Sadly, that night in the reserve team match, Dennis broke his leg in an innocuous challenge. Not only did that put him out of the next match, but he never played competitive football again.
So children (and adults), the moral of the story is do your homework, try hard at your exams because nothing is ever written in tablets of stone in this life. Fortunately Dennis had an education to fall back on.
Determination
bigfudge
A feeling shared by every single fan of this great club, we may not be the biggest and we certainly aren't the best but County means something to every one of us, as said before County is like a family member or best friend, you don't always get on, but you'll never stop loving them.
As parents, children, friends and co-workers, we feel determined to make sure everybody knows that we are Stockport County fans and we are proud of this, we are determined that we will never switch our alligences to our more glamourous neighbours United and City, we are determined that however many false dawns and relegations we have to suffer, we will be there when the sun finally does come out over Edgeley, and we will stand together, knowing that we have done, ourselves, our club and our town proud with our weeks, months and years of unconditional, unwaivering, blind love and passion.
We are determined to be Stockport County!
Danny Bergara Day
Sir Roger
“Stockport County have designated Saturday's friendly against Cardiff City as Danny Bergara Day as tribute to their former manager who sadly passed away on Wednesday morning.
County boss Jim Gannon and his Cardiff counterpart Dave Jones, who were both brought to Edgeley Park by the Uruguayan, will lay floral tributes in the Cheadle End goalmouth before the game.
And both sets of players will wear black armbands as a mark of respect to the man who was, without question, the catalyst for the Hatters outstanding success in the 1990s
The Uruguayan will always be remembered for leading County to promotion from Division Four in 1991 after two decades in the basement division.
Four Wembley appearances followed in just two years before he left the club in 1995 to be replaced by Jones who, in 1997, lifted the Hatters into English football's second tier for the first time in 60 years with a number of Bergara's players at the heart of his team.
A feature of the games at Wembley was the vocal support given by the County faithful and the non-stop chant of 'Danny Bergara's Blue & White Army' against Port Vale in 1993 has gone down in Hatters folklore.
And, at the request of a number of supporters, the club will break with tradition on Saturday and encourage fans to give a two-minute rendition of the same song, rather than the usual minute's silence or applause, as their own personal tribute to one of County's best-loved and greatest ever managers.
How about dusting down your early 90s shirts and wearing them as well?
Kick off time against the Bluebirds is 3.00pm.”
Nothing more for me to add to that, other than to say it was a very emotional day and am very proud and privileged to have been there.
Danny Bergara, a true County Legend.
Disappointment
sandbachhatter
By the bucket load.
Danny Bergara
dudleyhatter
Sir Rog, I was on holiday in the south of France when the news broke. I spent about 3 hours reading all I could on line and then went down and sat looking at the sea for a long time. He was the man who turned our club from a laughing stock (amongst those who had heard of us) into a club to be respected. He gave me a true reason to have pride in our club. That is to say it was a rational pride rather than the current irrational pride I still have!
Darlington (away)
bringbacklenwhite
My first ever away game was at Darlington. FA Cup - late 60's again.
New Mills Grammar School had a hard core following at the time and we arranged our own bus to the game. A misty trip across the Pennines via Barnsley, Huddersfield and Scotch Corner, to what felt like the end of the earth.
Darlington is a pleasant market town totally unprepared for 1500 county fans descending on it. The old ground (Feetham's) being next to the cricket pitch which you had to walk round to gain access.
A boring 0-0 draw - but the highlight of the day was when 2 of our tribe decided to cross the street at different times whilst carrying our 8 foot banner head high. The material ripped in half and instant repairs were needed.
The dear old lady in the haberdashery shop nearly passed out when half a dozen teenage "yobs" walked and asked for "a box of safety pins, please".
Repairs concluded, the pins did there job and the banner remained in place throughout the game only to be ditched in the river before the journey home.
Footnote - drew the replay at home 1-1, lost the 3rd game 4-2 at Leeds Utd (no pen shoot outs in those days)
Recent events at Darlo bring the memories flooding back.
Dragonfly
Sir Roger

Sybil Fawlty: [to a customer who has just given Basil a tip for a horse race] Basil doesn't bet on the horses anymore, [to Basil]
Sybil Fawlty: Do you?
Basil Fawlty: No, that particular avenue of pleasure has been closed off.
Sybil Fawlty: And we don't want it opened up again, do we?
Basil Fawlty: No, you don't dear.
Manuel: Mr.Fawlty! You horse. It win!
Basil Fawlty: Manuel, shhh-shh-shh *you* *know* *nothing*.
Manuel: You always say that, Mr. Fawlty. But I learn. I learn, I learn.
Basil Fawlty: No-no-no, you don't understand.
Manuel: I do. I do understand!
Basil Fawlty: Shhh-shh. You know nothing about the horse.
Manuel: I know nothing about the horse. Which horse? Which horse I know nothing?
Basil Fawlty: My horse, nitwit!
Manuel: Your horse Nitwit.
Basil Fawlty: No-no-no. Dragonfly.
Manuel: Dragonfly. It won!
Basil Fawlty: Yes, I know!
Manuel: I know it won too! I put money on for you. You give me money. I go to betting shop.
Basil Fawlty: Yes, I know, I know.
Manuel: Why you say I know nothing?
Basil Fawlty: [desperately] Look, you know the horse.
Manuel: Dragonfly or Nitwit?
Basil Fawlty: Dragonfly! There isn't a horse called Nitwit. You're the Nitwit!
Manuel: What is Witnit?
Basil Fawlty: It doesn't matter. Oh, I can spend the rest of my life having this conversation. Please, please, try to understand until one of us dies. You're going to forget everything you know about Nitwit.
Sybil Fawlty: You're looking very happy Basil.
Basil Fawlty: Happy? Ah yes, I remember that.
Sybil Fawlty: You know what I'll do if I find out that money is yours?
Basil Fawlty: [calling after her] You'd have to sew 'em back on first.
Sunday, 17th January 1993: Millwall -v- Brentford - Adventures of a Neutral at The Den
hatter in macc
I've visited some pretty scary, and sometimes downright dangerous, places in this big old world, and if ever I get around, as blokes are wont to do sometimes, to listing them in rank-order, I'd be sure of including Millwall's former ground.
There is a very loose County connection to my one and only appearance at The (old) Den, as it fell on the Sunday of a weekend which I had spent down in London ostensibly to watch us getting beaten by the odd goal in three by Fulham. My Sunday train home was not due to leave until the early evening, and, for want of anything better to do, I decided to head south-eastwards and watch my second game in as many days.
The old ground where the 'Lions' plyed their trade and sharpened their claws was nestled within a maze of dank and depessing streets around New Cross, and, wending my way through them from the local station, I could all too easily imagine how they would have provided the setting for many a Dickensian-type alleyway murder. On reaching the ground, I decided that, with it being a local(ish) derby, I would probably be safest standing with the home fans, and, having had my overnight bag checked by the 'Old Bill' for crowbars, machetes and pices of lead piping, I took my place by a barrier approximately halfway up a terrace behind a goal.
All was relatively quiet around me as kick-off approached, even though the terrace had become pretty crowded - but, just as I was beginning to think that I was in for a relaxing afternoon, I was suddenly conscious, as the teams walked onto the pitch, of a humming from the locals stood around me which, within moments, rose to a near-deafening crescendo of "M-M-M-I-I-I-L-L-L-W-W-W-A-A-A-L-L-L-L-L-L!"!
I had never heard anything so meancing, or loud, in my footballing life. And then the chanting REALLY started...none of which I can repeat in full on here. Suffice to say, the Macc Songbook that I carry around in my head was...how shall I put it...'educated' in the ninety minutes that followed that day.
Not that I had a great deal of time to get my thoughts around the new songs. For, with less than ten minutes on the clock, Millwall scored...and there I was, all of a sudden, a few steps further down the terrace, having been flung forward by the surge that greeted the goal. I was separated from my overnight bag in the process, and very relieved to find that it had remained wedged behind the barrier where I had left it - although it did take me more than a few minutes to climb through the crowd back up the steps to regain my original position...and I felt, frankly, knackered from the ordeal.
"My God", I thought to myself, "I hope they don't get another goal..."
That afternoon saw them score six. The b*st*rds.
Of course, by the time the 'Wall - playing, incidentally, what looked like some pretty classy stuff (urged on by their Manager, one Mick McCarthy), when I was able to concentrate on the game itself - popped in their sixth, I had perfected a way of simultaneously hanging on to my bag and to the barrier which meant that I was no longer thrown around during the goal celebrations. But, by that time, eighty minutes of the match had passed, and, with a 'New Den' being ready to open its gates at the start of the next season, there was no chance of my ever being able to put this technique to good use again.
"Facking great that, wannit?", said a chirpy bloke who'd ended up standing alongside, and nattering with, me for the latter part of the game. (He'd probably been right at the top of the terrace when the game kicked off.) "Coming next time, mate?"
"Yeah, sure", I replied - knowing full well that, when he didn't find me there, I'd always have the excuse of having gone with the flow of the crowd...
More experiences of the Den
archie
Started work in London in September 1970 and set about checking out all the grounds asap - certainly an entry in 'J' for Tommy Jenkins when we get there. All in all that season I managed over 60 games as a spectator despite playing on most Saturdays myself but, given that I would usually nominally support the away team, the trip to the Den was an education to someone who'd been to most of the grounds in the North West and the West Midlands with no problem at all.
The problem was, basically, that Millwall got beaten by Sheffield United who, I think, were promoted that season. Everything was ok if a little fevered at the start but then United scored and the atmosphere became poisonous. I'm not certain about the rest of it but I remember that United won 2-1 and that there was absolutely no prospect of supporting them in public. It really was the worst and most dangerous atmosphere I've experienced in football.
downunderhatter
downunderhatter
1970 - Born, Stepping Hill Hospital.
1976 - Got taken to my first game... at Maine Road!
1981 - Played for Stockport Junior Blues.
1982 - Went to first County game.
1992 - Moved to Edgeley, became a regular at EP and in Royal Oak. Started playing in the SDSFL.
1999 - Moved away from Edgeley.
2000 - Became secretary/chairman/treasurer/kit-washer/confidante/psychologist/money-lender for aforementioned SDSFL team.
2001 - Trips to EP become less frequent due to family/work/football commitments.
2003 - Became disillusioned with UK.
2005 - Quit SDSFL team and played in Manchester Vets League.
2007/8 - Saw last ever County game away at Wrexham.
2008 - Emigrated to Perth, WA.
2010 - Started playing in the Masters (Vets) league.
2011 - Won Players' Player Of The Season.
2012 - Who knows?
Dressing Room
bringbacklenwhite
Have been treated to a variety of changing rooms from the shared tap (Birch Vale) the communal bath (Curzon Ashton) the open plan 30 teams at a time (Princess Way - I think - Manchester) to a tin bath per team (Didsbury) with a water heater that was about to explode..
Worst professional changing room - The Old Wooden Bloomfield Road, Blackpool - referees' room. 2 metal chairs with stretch canvas seats (1 ripped), 5 nails on a wooden frame, a black and white TV and a shower that looked like something out of Belsen. Witnessed and survived when I was officiating at the Blackpool Schools' Cup Final.
There is a well worn story about a top manager (no doubt someone will come up with his name) who painted the home team room in vivid red to fire up his own players and had the away team room done out in a relaxing pale blue. Mind games !!!
Worst thing though is when the manager has "lost the dressing room" making it sound like something that would be handed in at the Lost Property Counter at the local police station. It may be there next to the "crowd" lost by an old favourite player and the "legs" lost by the winger who went on too long in his career.
What is your best and worst experience of the dressing rooms you have endured ?
Dressing Room pt2
archie
Worst changing room experience was undoubtably playing for United Banks against the Royal Marines down in Hampshire. Chilly day, muddy pitch, only cold showers. Ok, plenty of park facilities as bad or worse but not what you'd expect at that level and not ideal if you've a long coach trip back to London to follow.
Playing on the Banks circuit in the early 70s, most had decent facilities but they were generally hosting half a dozen sides so could be quite crowded. Best was probably the Bank of England ground at Roehampton which was a smaller complex but perfectly formed and used by the national team for training.
The only league grounds I played at were Orient and Dagenham (non-league in those days but still the same ground I think) and they were ok but no more than that.
Dogs in Football
bringbacklenwhite
Most famous football dog has to be Pickles who found the World Cup in 1966 (re-edited from my original faux pas where I typed 1996 !) when it was stolen on tour of England prior to the Finals in that year.
Jimmy Greaves famously went down on all fours to "collar" a canine pitch invader during his career.
And we must not forget John Terrier and Didier Drogber (over to you punsters for other candidates).
My favourite circus act was the one with two teams of boxer dogs playing football with a balloon. One side in red and one side in blue. My goodness how we laughed at those cannine capers !!!!
Latest addition to the hall of fame has to be Rosie47. Well done Harry.
Dogs in football - pt 2
hatter in macc
Another dog (for whom I don't have a name) of footballing infamy was the one that ran onto the pitch at Colchester some forty years ago, and upended the Brentford 'keeper, Chic Brodie, breaking Brodie's kneecap and ending his professional career in the process.
Brodie's phlegmatic take on the (televised, and oft-shown) incident in the years that followed: "The dog may have been small...it just happened to be solid."
D is for Dudloy
dudleyhatter
Doe wuree fowks eye ay gunna spayk lowcul
Born 71 in Wythenshawe
Lived in Didsbury and Heaton Mersey until age of six attending St Winifred's but luckily moved Hazel Grove before the choir got on top of the pops!
Went to a rugby playing school and discovered I could run with a pb of 10:90 for 100m no Usain but still pretty quick.
Moved to the midlands in 1989 and so missed out on the glory years being a poor student or father of young kids. Made of course to all 4 wembley trips.
Always wanted to be a primary school teacher and am still doing the job I love.
My son's first game was at EP we were rubbish and lost 1-4 to Crewe. He is now a season ticket holder at St Andrews with his grandad but still takes pity on his dad and attends games with me!
Still sulking about the lost epistle from earlier so that's your lot!
Dressing Rooms pt 3
bringbacklenwhite
Found this on Wiki:-
The athletic director of the University of New Mexico wasn't trying to be funny when he decorated his football team's dressing room in bright red and their opponent's quarters in pale blue pastels. Alonzo Stagg, while head coach at Chicago, employed similar strategy when he had two dressing rooms for his players - one painted blue for rest periods, and the other painted red for fight talks. Both men were simply using smart color psychology.
With a name like Alonzo Stagg I expect the Punmeisters to have a field day !!
Coaching should be about providing football for children, not children for football !