Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Birmingham City F.C.

From our yard we could hear the cheers when goals were scored, and the very air in Small Heath would be filled with excitement so tangible one could almost feel it - I could certainly smell it! Some of the boys would race along to the homes of friends in Garrison Lane, there to climb on the roofs of the toilets in the hope of seeing into the ground. I often wished I was a boy so I could join them! Our Jim climbed to the top-most point of the tip in order to catch a glimpse of what was going on.During my fifth year at school I sometimes accompanied some of the girls, during the lunch-break, to the Garrison Lane entrance of St. Andrews, in the hope of seeing our heroes. The gate-keeper often pretended he didn't see us, turning his back so we could "sneak" past him. I saw Bertie Auld and Jimmy Bloomfield, albeit from a distance, and hugged the knowledge to myself in case our Jim told Mother!The younger girls were green with envy when we regaled them with tales of the discussions we had with the players! All told for effect of course, in my case anyway, for I would simply have fainted away if one of them had really spoken to me!I loved the blue and white hats and scarves the supporters wore, and longed for the day when I could show I was a true fan. I tried for years to get Denis to take me, but to no avail. He was far too grown-up to be seen with his little sister at a match. I despaired of ever seeing my heroes so contented myself with reading all the match reports in the local paper, excitement churning in my stomach if we won, searing disappointment filling my soul if we lost. Sometimes Mrs H would let us watch the sports news on her television, especially when Blues were on, so I lived, second-hand, the joys and excitement of a football match.Mother couldn't understand why I was so interested in football, considering I couldn't participate in school sports. Patiently I explained I didn't want to play the game, simply be able to go and watch, cheering and shouting with everyone else. I thought it was marvellous that we had our own football team, just around the corner, and felt that everyone should support them!My chance came, at last, in 1963. Some Friday nights my parents took me out with them to a favourite pub of theirs in the city centre, The Birmingham Arms. I quite fancied Gwyn, the middle son of the Licensee, and tried all my girlish "wiles" to lure him, but was beginning to despair of ever going out with him.One evening, we were helping his father to clean up, I stepped outside the double glass doors of the bar to lock the outer, wooden ones, but couldn't reach the bolt. The boy of my dreams came out to assist, and suddenly the glass doors were bolted behind him. His father, knowing we were both too shy to show we cared, had locked us out on purpose, for he called through the closed doors, "Now you can ask her out, son!"Embarrassed I looked down at my feet, casting surreptitious glances at Gwyn, puzzled when I saw him gazing at the stars. Quietly he muttered, "It should be a good day for the match tomorrow!" Heart leaping in my breast I said, quite casually I thought, "Are you a Blues supporter too?" knowing full well he was, having gleaned every bit of information from his sister! The upshot of it was he asked me to go with him the next day to see Blues play Sheffield Wednesday, and my excitement knew no bounds.It rained heavily the next day, and no matter how much I protested that I didn't mind standing in the rain to watch the match, Gwyn said he wouldn't expect it of me. Disappointed we went to The Futurist cinema, my clothes soaking wet, the fake fur collar of my coat emitting a strange, musty smell - I think it came from my being over-zealous with Mother's Rosewater cologne before leaving the house! Although I was happy to be, at last, going out with Gwyn, I was sorely disappointed that, once again, my dream of seeing the Blues in the flesh was denied me. On leaving the cinema we learned the match had resulted in a draw, so I wasn't as disappointed as I would have been if we'd won!During the days of our courtship many things transpired to prevent my going to a match, and I finally relinquished my childhood dream, which was resurrected on December 28th 1963. My birthday is on Boxing Day, and as a treat Gwyn took me to watch our team play Arsenal. My excitement knew no bounds as I put on my blue and white scarf and "bobble" hat (purchased during my days as a Saturday girl, but never yet worn), preening in front of my bedroom mirror. My sisters all thought I was mad to actually want to stand out in the freezing cold, the day after Christmas. I didn't care - all I could think of was that I was actually going to fulfil a long-held dream that day.It was freezing, but the heat of the bodies in the queue, all the men much taller than me, helped a little bit. Once inside the ground I wanted to shout out my joy for all to hear! The smell of hot-dogs, damp clothes, and clean, cold air assailed me and I loved every bit of it. The men on the terraces kindly moved me along to the end of the row so I could watch the action. I actually ended up standing on the steps dividing the terraces, to avoid getting a crick in my neck.My whole being was filled with so much joy and pleasure I thought I would burst! I was very surprised at the size of the ground, and the number of people who had turned out on such a cold day. Gwyn told me the usual "gate" for a Blues match was between 35,000 to 40,000, even more when cup matches were played. I don't know how many were there that particular day, only that as one man swayed so did everyone else, causing a wave-like roll along the terraces. Seeing me clasp my arms to my body to try and keep warm, an elderly man at the end of one row handed me a bright blue flask, saying, "Take a drink of that love, it'll warm you up!" After taking off the cap, and unscrewing the plastic cup, the delicious beefy aroma of oxtail soup drifted into the still, cold air. Greedily I gulped down a whole boiling mouthful, before remembering that I hated oxtail soup! Well, until that moment, I thought I did!It was a wonderful experience, and I was totally surprised when, suddenly it seemed, it was all over. I had shouted, stamped, cheered, booed, sang, whistled, and jumped up and down each time a goal was scored, becoming so excited I even cheered when Arsenal scored! I didn't cheer for them again - they beat us 4-1!The best, most memorable part of that day for me was when, towards the end of the match, everyone started to sing "Keep right on to the end of the road", thousands of voices singing as one and tears filled my eyes. As we left the ground, Gwyn's arm around my shoulder, one man patted me on the head as he passed and said, "Don't cry bab, we don't lose 'em all!" Smiling through my tears I didn't bother to explain why I was crying, as I don't think he would have understood!Walking back to the Birmingham Arms, the cold winter air seeping into my bones, the smells from the discarded hot dog wrappers drifting into my nostrils, I couldn't stop talking about the match. At last I understood why men loved football so much - not only for the excitement it created in what was, for most people then, a very hard life, but for ninety short minutes they could let off steam, pretend they were out there on the pitch, scoring goals, the peoples' heroes!Whole families attended at Blues matches in those days, children as young as eight or nine accompanied by at least two, sometimes three, of the older generation, knowing they were quite safe. There was never any trouble as far as I remember, no matter how big the gate. We were so lucky having a great football club just around the corner.On our wedding day, August 29th 1964, Gwyn's first words to me as I reached the altar were, I suppose, not really surprising: "They've just kicked off!" As we exchanged vows amidst the scent of lily of the valley, roses and incense I smiled, so glad I was marrying my soul-mate! Blues may have lost that match, to Stoke City, but our "match" is still going strong, and in a roundabout way it's all thanks to the Blues! Long may they reign!
[IP address logged]

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home