King Martin - Hoolifan: thirty years of hurt

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Epub ISBN: 9781780573908

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Copyright Martin King and Martin Knight, 1999

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Introduction John King, 1999

First published in Great Britain in 1999 by

MAINSTREAM PUBLISHING COMPANY (EDINBURGH) LTD

7 Albany Street

Edinburgh EH1 3UG

ISBN 9781840181746

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Acknowledgements

Martin King would like to thank: Martin Knight, his wife Val for the cups of tea and the children Michelle, Billy, Zoe, Daisy and Joe for the entertainment; Stuart and Jimmy Craig for kick-starting the project with their enthusiasm; Stuart for the research; Dawn and Robert Bunker for trusting me with a computer; John King for his unswerving support; Michelle Perry; Mandy, my wife, and the kids Kortney and Rory-Ben for being so understanding; Denise and Jeff; my brother Alan, Hazel, Sophie, Emily and Lucy for their encouragement; my Mum who told me not to be so daft; and the following people who one way or another shaped my football-going days: Bobby Reader, Peter Marney, Danny Smith, Ida and Jack, Steve Woodley, Pear Brewley, Martin, Steve and David Ballard, Steve Whiting, Steve Watkins, Mickey Potter, Tass, the Ginger twins, Sol, Seamus, Tony Aldworth, Jeff Hack, Chimpey Stockley, Micky Beard, Peg and Ted, Dave Thurston, Keith Perland, Dave Perks, Susan and Deb, Ravindra Saravanamuto and all the Pollards Hill gang, Peter Stevens, Brian Wilkes, Maisie, Johnny Irish, Peter Clark, Colin Bourner, Kevin Burden, Dougie Ayres, Dave Metis, Sammy Hance, Mal and Coe, Tony and Denise, Uncle Patsy, Lyons, Michelle and Lisa, Jaffa, Danny Peacock, John and Sally Bloomfield, Dennis Price, Andy Till, Nan, Grandad, Tiger Lyons, Emmy and Winnie, Linda and Bill, Leonard Hance, Davey Small, Steve King, Micky Wheeler and his red setter, Terry Robson, Steve Prentice, Dave Griffin, Martin Thoust, Kenny Aird, Terry and Micky Coates, Steve Harris, Richard, Amey, Elliot and Grant Millett, Stewart Merrill of Sheffield, Vinny, Eccles, Babsy, Skitzy, Nashy, Dawn and Andy Duncan, Dave Kinshett, Roy and Bruce, Bill with no coat and his sidekicks Les and Andrew, Barry and Julie, Anthony Dillon, Les Ward, Danny and Jackie Smith, Peter and George Clark, Johnny Dixey, Sian and Lee, Danny and Robert, Mickey Ford, Ally Mclean, Mark Banks, Matt and Lee, Ian Cooper, Alex Mac, Christian Leiframilch and Mavis, Len Aherne, Jimmy Barrs, Trevor Hill, Sharpey, Micky Brown, Stephen, Peter and Tony Brown, Stewart Gee, Alan Gadd, Sarge, Glen Williams, Micky Wragg, Eddie, Barry Coles, Rusty Munden, Joe Nelson, Ginger Bill, Mike from Manchester, Muscles, Chris Tudenham, Mark Cator, Kev Sweeney, Puncho, Mark Lyons, Freddie, Helen, Billy, Joe Harley, Scottish Jimmy Wilson, Big Les, Dainton, Big Bill, Brentford Pete, Gardner, Caz, Swallow, Icky, Time Warp Terry Knowles, Geordie Phil, Melvyn, John the Greek, Mick, Pete the Feet, Longways, Paul Lyons, Theo, Bodger, Barney, Whitney, Zola, Copper, Andy, Mark Johnson, Paddy, Fonzie, Tommy Tindall, John Goff, John the Horse, Charlie and everyone else I have for the minute forgotten. Finally, a big thank you to all the birds Ive ever shagged, too numerous to mention.

Martin Knight would like to dedicate the book to Eamonn Devaney old friend, died young and would like to thank: Terry and Atty Knowles, Mick Woodham, Tony Jones, Kevin, Barry and Peter Merchant, Black Pete Harrison, Chris and Derek Mallows, Clive Aldridge, Alan Sleuman, Paul Fletcher, Tony Miller, Clive Fentum, Steve Fisher, Nicky and Marcus Wade, Bernie Fauld, Dave Pink, Mark Reynolds, Gary Allam. Terry Leonard, Billy Owen, Peter and Mike Bromley, Andy Clarke, Glen Connett, Kirk Stevens, Roy Browes, Dave Williams, Gavin Harkness, Micky Trent, Black John, Tony and Nigel from Edenbridge, Geoff from Hounslow, Dave and Peter Goodsell, Pommy, Woody, Jimmy Ryan, Punky Al, Eccles Babs, Big Anthony, Jointy, Kevin, Eddie, Alan Hudson, Lofty, Micky Greenaway, John King, Phil Lattimore, Dog, Lianne and Chris Collis, Paul Collis and Geoff, Andy Fellowes, Ian Macleay, Gary Nash, Andy Hall, John Masterson, Paul Hearne and Paul Hearne, Willie, John Taylor, Vic Ware, Billy and Steve Claridge, Bucko, Ian Cox, Sean Wickens, Bob Burns, Tom Sweeney, Steve from Brixton, Danny, Akim and Mark from York, Tony Brand, Derby Steve, Crix, Jim the Builder and anyone else who contributed to this book in any way.

Introduction by John King

I was in the crush of bodies outside Stamford Bridge with my dad, queuing up to see Chelsea play Southampton in 1970, about to watch my first live football match, when the thunder of clapping and the roar of ENGLAND filled the air. The sound came from the other side of a massive wall rising up inside the ground, from under a small metal roof. It was urgent and powerful, with a hard, threatening edge. I felt the excitement race across my skin as the chant was repeated four or five times before stopping dead. I had goosepimples. Still do, all these years later, as I remember the moment when I realised that going to football was about so much more than twenty-two men kicking a ball around a patch of grass. I asked Dad why the crowd were singing England when it was Chelsea playing, and he grinned and said that they were practising. I couldnt wait to get through the turnstile and find out what was behind that wall.

Inside the ground I was in heaven, seeing my heroes in the flesh. They seemed to have halos around them, the television and poster images coming to life in front of my eyes, but as well as watching the players I spent a lot of the game watching the end from where the singing came. Thousands of heads were packed in tight under the roof swaying, swearing, chanting, clapping. It was the focal point of the ground and a hundred times more exciting than where we were standing. This was my first impression of the Shed, and this experience is probably very similar to that of thousands of others going to football for the first time, whatever club they support. I knew the Shed was where I wanted to be. The home end was passionate and out of control, the police moving in to grab boys and youths and chuck them out of the ground.

The 90s have seen the mass commercialisation of football, with a parade of media darlings spotting a good career move and suddenly swearing how much they love the game. They pretend they never went to football in the 70s and 80s because it was violent and racist, when what they really mean is that they found it common. They say football has never been so popular, but this is a lie. Everyone I grew up with was into football. It was part of our lives as teenagers, up there with music, drink, clothes and girls. There were over 44,000 people at that Southampton game, and attendances in the 70s were generally huge compared with those of today, while crowds in previous decades were higher still. What these media whores really mean is that there has never been so much money available, and they want their share.