Circus Clown Union Man
Winger
God, I remember the 30yd diameter lake of piss at Bootham Crescent, and not in a good way.
My first (junior) season ticket was £2 for the season
Aye, eh!!!!!!
Follow along with the video below to see how to install our site as a web app on your home screen.
Note: This feature may not be available in some browsers.
God, I remember the 30yd diameter lake of piss at Bootham Crescent, and not in a good way.
My first (junior) season ticket was £2 for the season
I may be young but bright boots I mean orange, pink etc aren't boot colours. While I do have a older pair of pink ones, I much prefer black and white ones.
the wolf his his nickname ain't it
At the chippy on the corner of Bede street? Loved them like.Have the "Cowboy Specials" been mentioned?
Cracking grub.
Wolfie the window cleaner from Fulwell.
Or Triple H as my kids call him.
Aye franny diving lee for one
There sure was, but it was not as rife as it is today. People used to hurdle tackles or run round opponents, rather than ensure there is contact and throw themselves to the floor.
It was a different ethos for me. There was more of a stigma attached to diving or cheating. I remember England playing Italy in the 1970s and the fans and commentators going mad over the rolling around on the ground from the Italians. Tame stuff compared to the current breed.
I am probably looking back through rose tinted glasses, but I don't care. I liked 1970s football, it's what I fell in love with. We were shite then too.
Standing, a togetherness you felt, the surges forward (f&ckin dangerous at times) the daft chants, the characters who were part and parcel of the crowd, shocking catering and 'toilet facilities' but that was part of the fun!! Basically the experience at home was on a par with the experience you tend only to touch these days on some away trips.
Have the "Cowboy Specials" been mentioned?
Cracking grub.
It has completely taken away any of the enjoyment derived out of the anticipation and the feeling that a match was something special, an event to be looked forward to, to savour, that wasn't just the cheap throw away plastic import that it is now thats chewed up digestated and spat out quicker than you can say 'latest analysis'.
It's exactly the same as f***ing Christmas. I can't remember the last time I was able to look forward to something. You're not allowed to just imagine how good it will be, dream about what it will be like. Instead your force fed it all. And then instead of dwelling on what might have been after the event, you get told what might have been, shown what might have been, analysed what might have been on 24 hour rolling tweeting breaking news.
.I went to Bristol City in the 70's once -fell asleep pissed on the terraces at about 2.30 - got woken up at 4.40 to find we had been beaten 4-1 -- cracking day out
Done this a load of times. As a youngun part of the excitement for me of an away match was not knowing how many fans would turn up. I can honestly say i was never ever disappointed.Deciding to go to an away match on a Friday night in the pub..."got a space in the car for Barnsley tomorrow, fancy it?"..."Aye gannon"
None of this tickets months in advance malarky, just turn up and pay in.
Them cowboy mealsThe waft of tobacco smoke on a cold day drifting over the terraces.
Getting in early to get the atmosphere going.
That shop near Roker that used to stick the scores up on bits of paper after the match.
Cowboys from Whelans (?) near the New Derby.
Brenda's (RIP) Colliery Tavern pre match with the old boys watching the racing 'Ye bring back the points, we'll bring back the pints'.
Getting out of Sunderland in about 10 minutes post match.
Deciding on a Friday you were going to a random away match cos you had a tenner.
The novelty of away games in the rare seated stands like the upper tier at Bramall Lane.
Standing with your mates & being able to move to where the singers were or away from bell ends.
Denis Smith's Red & White Army
Thats what I fell in love with. Thought I was the bees knees in the Fulwell as a teenager. Getting a bottle of Maxim bought in the Roker Vic as a young un. It tasted fowl, but you made on it was nectar. The excitement and danger of away games, it was micey at most aways then. No tickets, van full and on the drink at 7 in the morning. Holed up in boozer at 11 atmosphere in pub building then off to the game. Stop for a night out, chinese sleep on way back and up for football on Sunday morning. Happy happy days. I regret the generations of SAFC fans to come who can never experience Roker Park at its best.
Standing in the Fulwell
Cheap prices (including pies etc)
Ridiculously bad toilets
Blokes walking away from the match with transistor radios pressed to their ears trying to listen to the other results while everyone else tried to hear too
Aye did that many times, wake up on Tennicks bus with your Friday night togs on.
happy days eh
.
Me mate did the same down Swansea one year.
Done this a load of times. As a youngun part of the excitement for me of an away match was not knowing how many fans would turn up. I can honestly say i was never ever disappointed.