At last the day has arrived. One of the most significant days in the football calendar. No, not Liverpool v Manchester United in the Premier League: Bristol City v Walsall in the final of the Johnstone’s Paint (AKA Paint Pot) Trophy at Wembley.
I have many, many friends (honest!) who are, as I write, en route to our national stadium. All of them are supporters of a team of which I am not entirely fond – how could I be having spent most of life as a one-eyed Bristol Rovers supporter? But as friends, how could I be so petty-minded and spiteful, how could I wish them anything other than a great day out? I cannot bring myself to wish for a City win – now that would be going too far – but I am not blind to the fact that a lot of people support Bristol City and some of them are my friends.
As you might expect, there has been plenty of banter from Bristol Rovers fans about City’s day in the sun and quite right too. In a divided city, you would not expect fans of both clubs to take the piss, as we call it in football. We don’t have to hit each other, although it has been a tradition for some to enjoy the odd punch up or two over the years (I was too much of a coward!), but there is no need to support them either.
Some of the stuff I have been hearing and reading has somewhat overstepped the mark. Some of it has been the stuff of envy and bitterness, other stuff has been little more than abuse. And a lot of people have been content to belittle the very tournament itself. Well, hang on a minute. I was at the Memorial Stadium in 2007 when Rickie Lambert thundered the ball past a flailing Adrian Basso to send Rovers to the final, then at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. For some odd reason, I don’t remember it being a minor, irrelevant tournament back then. What’s changed? Is it because Rovers aren’t in it?
The final in Cardiff was a terrific day out too. I remember little of the game although I do remember that Doncaster did win. We visited countless pubs, bumped into lifetime friends and acquaintances and saw our team in the final of a tournament. We endured plenty of banter too, all of it well meaning. No one said to me, “I hope you have a shit day.”
Above all, it is a day out at Wembley. Wembley is not my favourite stadium – give me the Millennium anyday – but not many things are better than seeing your team run out onto the hallowed turf. It is a day out for loyal supporters and it is a day out for people who call themselves City but rarely, if ever go. And the outcome is that City will make a shedload of cash, they’ll come home, with or without the Paint Pot Trophy, and resume their seamless path to the League One title.
I am far more interested in Liverpool v Manchester United, as befits a Liverpool supporter who rarely even sees them and has no familial nor geographical connections with the city, so I probably won’t be watching alongside the other couple of hundred people on Sky, but I am not going to spend the afternoon hoping that friends of mine have a horrible day.
2 comments
Hey Rick,
I would ask if maybe your Father, like mine, took you to both clubs games ? When I was deemed old enough, around 5 years old, it was seen bu my Mum as obligatory for Dad to take us with him and in the late 60’s Football was indeed a true working man’s game and one where Dad could afford the entry for me, one of my Brothers and himself. He and his workmates, at what was then Robinsons, usrd to regularly attend both teams home games. That’s just how it was. I always loved doing anything that involved my Dad and my Brothers.
On a personal note, I just didn’t feel at home at Ashton hate but I did makesny lifelong aquaintances and a couple of true friends who I could steal Horsrs with ( an old Polish saying when Horse theft was punishable by hanging)
To be frank, the friends I have that are Cittay fans, are the ones I could call at 05:00 hrs and they would be there for me but I am not complaining as to have one REAL friend is a true blessing and I truly do appreciate the real friends I do have, albeit few.
I recently talked with another die hard Rovers fan, who actually started out his football supporting days at Cittay but then was converted to the true colours. He told me that the fighting and real bitterness started at around the same time that I would have stopped going to Ashton gate, around 1968 onwards. I cannot really understand why this happened but, at a guess, I think we had more disposable income and each team had their own music tastes and dress sense. The tribal nature seems to stem from pretty basic stuff in reality.
The hardest part, for me, was that I come from Polish Catholic family and many of the old and grizzled Polish warriors seemed to prefer Citteh and that was simply because they played in Red and Poland had a Red & White flag.
Unlike yourself, I did get involved with the terrace way and had to fight my way out of trouble a few too any times. I was a young kid and was still going through a poor attempt at pitting myself higher in the pecking order and, to be frank, I was also an idiot savant.
In those days we had the Gloucester cup and many now do not believe me when I tell them of crowds of 20,000. I come from Kingswood so, to stand in the old Tote end meant I had to run the gauntlet of the Cittay fans on my way home as they were always there in November numbers, on the old Muller road end. It was bloody frightening and I know the true meaning of the saying “I shat myself” although I stopped just shy of pinching a loaf lol.
Anyway, enough of my journey into the past as there are many things I feel shame about & wish I could take it back.
I am not and never will be an hater. I have too many friends and aquaintances who support the franchise Bristol sport club ( see I could go even one piece without a little dig)
If Rovets ceased to exist and, let’s face it, it is now a distinct possibility, I woud not hesitate to go watch the Cittay when they played the more established and deemed better clubs. No doubt I would get a good ribbing but I know I would be welcomed, with open arms.
I believe this is why Citteh fans can get heated. The bulk of gashead, God I hate that nomenclature, would NEVER venture South of the River and truly are Rovets till they die. The Citteh fans have seen the gates actually go up after the club have got relegated, again, they cannot understand it as I also cannot get it. One thing I can say, as a real truism, Rovers have some of the most loyal and maybe even stupid fans in the country. This is bound to anger some of the more base fans of the old enemy.
In closing, I know for a fact that every final Rovers have been in, going back to the Watney cup, saw a good few Cittay fans turn up. Make of that what you will.
I hope they win today but know I will beside a pariah, by some, for feeling that way. After all, when either of the two clubs play, most commentators will use the term Bristol rather than Citteh or Rovers, much to the chagrin of the bulk of support. I sed our Red Cousins as representing Bristol today and I hope they come back with the trophy. We both know only too well, how it feels to have that awful losers drive back.
Once again, a great and thought provoking piece Rick.
Keep it up fella.
I cannot understand why, for the life of me, you have not been snapped up as a columnist for one of the better read newspapers.
Good luck fella.
Sorry for the typos, I had typed it using my iPhone and there is no way of editing what I wrote.
I hope that anyone who reads it can see past these. I really can be a scatty brain a lot of the time.
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