Just noticed this post from a great mate, Mick Turnbull, on Facebook. This was our routine almost every week, whether it was home or away, and the away games were often closer. As we were exiles, and had no advice from police as to parking, we'd just turn up at Cardiff, Millwall, Bristol, Sheffield, Portsmouth, etc, and bale out of the van. In many cases the locals didn't take too kindly to twenty pit lads turning up so there'd be all kinds of bother. But we stuck together, supported the lads and only fought if we were attacked. I remember one trip to Southampton when we had a three piece, a coffee table, lights and music in the back of the van with lads sleeping, drinking or playing cards. Robin Connolly, now back in Shotton, would usually win the cards. Looking back it was all absolutely crazy, dangerous and clearly illegal to have twenty unsecured louts rolling around in the back of a hired van. But the love of the Lads blinded us to all of that and we'd just turn up and take whatever came our way. Thanks to Mick, Keith, Trev, Robin, Pete, Tommy, Sean, Glen and all the lads who gave me so many great memories. Wonderful days that can never be repeated. I'll be on the Edinburgh train for the Watford game and getting down to Preston somehow ... ... hope it all comes close to those games for all the madness, excitement and wonderful friendship.
Brings back memories of travelling to Southampton for 10 hours in the back of a van only to see us lose 1-0. Must have been mad
Great stuff Smug, remember going to Hull in the late 60s to see the lads v Leeds, second FA Cup replay in my brother's Morris minor traveller, six of us all over 6' two in the 'boot' two over 20 stone it was a bit tight....getting there packed out with our fans, one lad had hand painted his car in red/white stripes. Bonkers. We were cheated that night by a dodgy last minute penalty, Jimmy Greenhaugh diving like Tom Daly, Herd and Mulhall sent off utter madness at the end. Pelted with bricks leaving the ground how nobody was killed I'll never know...it was a long ride home that night but you couldn't wait to do it all again..exciting times as we have now.
Great times… A yellow ‘Wentworth’ removal hire van cost £13.50 for the weekend… always at least a dozen of us piled into the back paying £2.00 for the privilege. A right good earner for whoever hired the van!
You're dead right there mate .. as I hired, and drove the van, I'd go for free. I ran a thirty seater coach for two seasons until they refused to carry us. I'd put any surplus aside for speeding/parking fines. It wasn't easy, no mobiles and most didn't have a house phone. If I couldn't contact people I'd drive round the various pit villages, on the Thursday or Friday, knocking on doors. If we'd had serious bother, or the team weren't doing well, I'd sometimes have to bully lads into committing to come the next week and, if any were skint, I'd sub them from the surplus. But it was all a mad adventure driving down to London or Plymouth with a bunch of lunatics. We were once leaving the big dusty car park, at Bristol Rovers, which only had one exit. The Bristol Gas Squad arrived looking for Sunderland supporters. They were just getting themselves all pumped up and excited when our shutter door went up and the lads piled out. They scattered like a herd of wildebeest when the lions arrive
. Absolutely crazy back then. I have traveled in removal vans and even a milk float with a tarpaulin sheet through over.
Six of us used to go to matches in one of the old VW beetles, my mate said he was going to paint it before the next match as it was just a heap of rust, next match he picked us up with the car totally painted in red lead, everything but windows
The lad who posted on FB, Mick Turnbull, once lost the draw to be inside the car, so went to Bristol City in the boot. He was a heavy smoker and lying next to the petrol tank. When we'd pull up at traffic lights smoke would be coming out of the vents ... ... people would be shouting, "Your car's on fire mate," and we'd be sitting there in hysterics Mick would be screaming, "Please help me, I'm being kidnapped!" Laughing until you can't breathe is much more rare these days I find.
I remember doing this in the 80's - the van hire companies got a bit wise to it so if we were playing say Leicester away we would work out the mileage and then say we were going to somewhere in Scotland of roughly the same mileage. I'm sure they knew what was going on but they were able to say that the hiring was for legitimate business purposes if ever the police got involved!!!
You don’t see it these days but we also had three bare arses stuck to the windows until we were out of the town
One of our worst was Birmingham away. The furniture van got a puncture which we changed and put the spare back under the van. It wasn't fastened properly and came off when I braked sharp in Birmingham. It flew off and rolled along the road until it smashed into an Asian shop's fruit&veg display outside. The stuff went everywhere and the fella came out shouting, one of the lads jumped off the back, grabbed the wheel and flung it back on without us stopping. You'd be cctv'd these days and be up in court ... ... we never heard another thing
Coming home from a match ( Man City I think ) inside the coach was boiling and one of the lads stood up and opened the roof light only for us to watch it disappear over the cars behind on the M62
I was there and for the first and only time took part in a pitch invasion, but the hatred of Leeds and Revie in particular went further back, some of the games earlier orchestrated by that nasty scoundrel were the worst I have ever witnessed, and will never forget of forgive, hence I cant join in with the Charlton debate as I will always link Jack to his Don. .
Absolutely love this. Mate of mine (older then me) has told me some cracking stories of aways days from "Borrowing" a car for a trip to London then returning it. Getting snowed in at a village and had to spend the night in the church hall as the residents took pity on them all 4 coaches worth of them, and thanked them by drinking the village dry. Residents then make up a load of bacon sarnies for them all and fes them. Playing rock paper scissors to work out who would be traveling to Southampton in the boot of the car, to getting lost in London, the driver stopped to ask some fella minding his own business for directions, growing inpatient the residents nutter sunderland fan got off the bus kidnapped the bloke and told him to give the directions in real time. Once at the ground, said nutter told everyone to get their hand in their pocket for the real life satnav, kiddnapee ended up 50 odd quid better off. I absolutely love hearing stories like this and it's time there was a daft lads away book written before it's all lost to time and myth.
I’ve always maintained that Hunter deliberately broke Bobby Kerrs leg during those cup games iirc It was the game at Roker when Bobby stretched for a ball he was never going to get and Hunter put his foot in, happened right in front of me, I was in the main stand paddock. Have detested that club ever since but Bobby got the last laugh in 73.
Great post mate, really had me laughing. I'll start writing the book as soon as the season's done, hopefully not tomorrow A few people have asked me and I have a mate who's said he'll help with the publishing. He's Dave Ashfield who wrote 'Relentless Misery' amongst others. https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1789964377/?tag=not606-21
