On a wintry March 18 many moon's ago nursing a spotty teenager's Paddy's hangover , nobbling me dads hooch me and the lads have a meet at Liverpool St Station a grim smokey shed with barely a panini or nail bar to distarct us from the johnnys in the basement barber or birds in micro Nana like mini skirts of the era.
Most my mates were Spurs fans in the era of the Spurs double , they were the Man Ure of the day with fans in every nook shotten alley of Albion, me and Woody Chelsea , my minder Nick QPR and Pete (Hammers) who tho Irish was related to the Kitcheners and Redknapps (tho wsn't everyone with whiff of the Old Jago?)
The filthy old slam door trains were dangerously crammed like sardines full of steaming bodies , 3rd class and ladies carriages de rigeur I recall.
Once thru the turnstiles there were 2 Ends at spurs Park Drive and Woddbines oh yes smoking was legal almost compulsary and many players had a fag at half time.Most fans smoked continuosly between swigs of beer and snacks .
People didn't waste bananas on the players but toms cabbages were tossed and all and spirts quaffed, no cameras or searches then.
Cold Blo or Hot Blo, while Chelsea were hated for being posh n flash, Spurs derbies with any of London teams QPR Charlton even were violent with of course a special edge to near neighbours and rvals the Gunners who despite glorious history were in the shade of an unbeatable Spurs era 1960s
You could barely see the game for burly adults, tossed stremers , cigarette smoke and waving arms/fists.
But there were the Spurs heroes Dave McKay Alan Glzean Pat Jennings Clff Jones for Spurs
For visitors Chesea the regular line Peter "the cat Bonetti" in goal ruthless Chooper Harris and Eddie McCreadie at tee back , Osgood(maybe) Hollins the magical Charlie Cooke and on that one day barely 16 years old Ian CHICO Hamilton
It was Chicos debut and these teams were very good and met shortly after in the cup final.
I can find no footage but suffice to say the lad scored not just a goal but a screamer against probably after Lev Yashin the fnest keeper in the world Pat Jennings,
I loved Shilton,Bonetti Banks Zoff Seaman and many others as a keeper myself but Pat was something else a legend who regularly scored a few goals with his massive punts.N Ireland were very lucky to have him and Georgie in the same team.
I can fnd no footage of the game, very few were recorded or televised in the black and white era. If you wanted to watch you went to the match.
The clip here shows mature Chico who played so well at Villa later.
Half time mad stampede to the urinals, A cup of Bovril seemed compulsary , you either bought one or 30m later had the same wet warm glow as the bloke behind relieved himself on the specatots ahead.Somehow you'd find way to same unreserved bit of concrete.
For our colonial cousins Bovril is a beef tea like Vegimite for grown Ups, I later learned it is made from parts unsaleable in polite society.
Foul mothed but friendly Cops tossed people in and out of turnstiles queues for fun and were happy to chin, trip anyone with no recourse.Get back you buggers and I'll kick your arses were their sole weapons as unlike US thugs he had no gun just personality and a whistle,
I later realize like the St Johns Ambulance the cops got to see the match free and work out any domestic issues on the public for free.
Any gifted player was an Iron,
"Go on Hutchison hit him wth your handbag"
was encouragement form HIS OWN fans etc
Were not many foreign players at that time, but any Welsh Irishman or Jock on opposing side would get stick.
Chanting swearing, gobbng, tossed toilet rolls were the norm the atmosphere a mix of the Roman Coliseum, a riot and a carnival, considering the swaying unfenced crowd sthe frequent punch ups, thrown pennies that there were so few casualities. The banter and profanity, wiit and shit made TD look like Neverna's ladies knitting circle
I played once at a treianing session on the muddy valley (Charlton's old huge pitch) as a non pro at the wintry smoggy days were almost as bad as the Black and White, you could barely see the ball, pulled off at half time and half an orange what's not to like.
Post match in era where no fans dressed as players but sported bobble hats like Where's Wally ,scarves ,rattles, rosettes it was the choice of disgusting piece of salami called an "OT Dog or a slice old dog neat rom Westlers can called a Burger" Of course the smell of geasy onions had us queuing then a wagon wheel a couple cans and spalsh on the brut on the tonic to go on the pull, to be young cashed up and at large in the West End was to be "In ones element" we were all Michael Caine for a moment until that alarm on Monday mornng.
For those as yet unborn I should add all the world smelt of tobacco , deodorants were on ration in UK and most football stadia had a unique aroma of piss Bovril, tobacco and sweat on and off the terraces. Chesea tried runnig dogs around to keep the players fresh.
I've seen better games in the slums of Loftus Rd Marsh at his peak,Stan Bolwes , Geoff Astle , Shilts at Stoke , greater goals from Keegan and Shearer but that afternoon a lad of our age did the biz for our side, ecstasy , the rapture , few other thrills have such sweet memories, the sun shone and all was well with the world as we strode like giants back through Northumberland Park Station.Rinse with a pope on a rope soap, and hope for a grope at the Disco.