BD8 & Beyond, page 16
We were still getting to plenty of Leeds games and the boys were ‘living the dream’ under manager David O’Leary. We went to Rome to play AS Roma in the UEFA Cup in the 4th round in March 2000. Our group of 4 flew out from Stansted Airport and in the group was myself, Hayton, Trevor, and a guy called Chaddy. Chaddy was once working away in Gambia, (or the like) and after getting a cab from the hotel, was kidnapped, driven into the wild and held at gunpoint. A few Gorilla types turned up and after a load of shouting, it was apparent that he wasn’t the chap that they wanted, so they just left him there! The local law said that it was a miracle that they didn‘t shoot him dead! Anyhow, we had a train journey into Rome and on our arrival, flagged down a cab. The cheeky bastard took us in a big circle to the hotel, which was actually a ‘shit and a piss’ form the train station! We were running quite late, so, checked in and got a cab to the ground. The cabbie wouldn’t take us up the main road to the ground, he said it was dangerous, so we were on our toes. There was quite a bit of ‘fisty cuffs’ outside the ground and a few casualties running around with ‘claret’ leaking from their wounds, all part and parcel really. We were caught up the middle of large groups of Leeds lads running at the Roma boys and visa versa, this was quite a volatile atmosphere.
It was a typical atmosphere with English fans getting showered with objects from the home fans but the game was ok and Leeds held their own. Just before half time I noticed that the local ‘Plod’ were pulling their face scarves up and drawing their batons! We moved into the middle of our section and I told a mate of mine, Gary Kilmartin, who was there with his young lad Josh, to do the same. Shortly after, the law waded into blokes, women and kids, hitting anyone with those damn batons, for no reason at all…bastards!
The game ended in a 0-0 draw and the fun was about to begin. Outside the ground were lines of armed police, who’s only concern was to get the Leeds fans onto the buses, which were going either to the town centre or the airport. If you argued, you got battered and thrown on the nearest bus! I was with Hayton and we’d lost Trev and Roger. Apparently Trevor managed to get off the airport bus after been whacked by a lawman and knocked about. This was his first ever match and he had no idea that this kind of thing went on, he was pretty put out!! Ha ha. After jumping from the bus in the centre, Paul and I were a fair trek from our hotel and set off walking, only to find that The Ultra’s, Roma’s firm, were patrolling the streets in cars as well as on foot. These arseholes have a bad reputation but very rarely stand toe to toe with other mobs (as Man U proved more recently), they pick groups off and use ambush methods. We were struggling to dodge the large groups that were tooled up on the streets and almost got run down by a couple of motors. We ended up ‘legging’ it into a restaurant and having some feed until the situation eased off.
Next day we walked round Rome, admiring the sights and stopping off for beers at numerous boozers. We met up with a few mates from Bradford, Chris, Timmy, Royston and Phil Mac and together we had a damn good session on the ale! Paul and myself also took in a few sights, incorporating the Coliseum and the Vatican. That evening we came across a bar on a main street that looked half decent and headed passed the doormen and down the steps inside. We got beers and I looked around the drum, only to find that there was only one way in and out. It was a long cellar bar with three or four rooms and I noticed we were getting eye-balled and surrounded by a couple of dozen local faces. This was a naughty gaff and after a few choice words, we quickly hit the exit before the shit hit the fan. We found another bar and to our surprise, the great John Charles was present with a small group of his friends. We got chatting, shared drinks and were having a decent time when half a dozen Leeds lads came in. these young arseholes started slating the Leeds legend and myself and Paul fronted them up before fucking them off outside onto the cobbles. All in all, a good away trip and a decent result.
A month later Leeds played Galatasaray in Turkey in the first leg of the semi finals and it was a game that I’m glad I didn’t attend. Numerous Leeds lads were ambushed and stabbed in various locations in and around Istanbul and two of these were Kevin Speight and Chris Loftus, who were tragically murdered. Ironically, the game went ahead and naturally, with the two deaths overshadowing everything else, Leeds lost the game 2-0. Now if the deaths had been caused by an English club’s fans, there is no doubt whatsoever that all English clubs would have been banned from European competitions, as was the case after the Hysel Stadium incident. Many teams have been involved in serious violent scenes at games involving Turkish teams, Man Utd, Leeds, Arsenal and Panathanaikos to name a few. There are also plenty of stabbings and the odd shooting at the derby games involving Galatasaray and Fenerbahce. On arrival in Turkey, opposing fans are welcomed with banners stating; “welcome to hell” and “Die”, amongst others. Very little action is taken against the Turks, or any other country really regarding football violence, yet the English are punished severely at the drop of a hat….why the fuck is that then!!??
Leeds drew the second leg at Elland Road 2-2 two weeks later and went out of the cup under a very volatile atmosphere, with Galatasaray fans being stopped from attending the game for their own safety.
November that year and we were on our way to Milan in the Champion’s League. We’d beaten them at Elland Road a couple of months earlier but needed a result in the famous San Siro stadium to progress in the competition. No English club had ever won there and nobody really gave us a prayer in hell.
We’d travelled from Stansted airport to Venice and then up to Milan on the train. We were six strong in our party, Pollard, Hayton, Mal, Chad, Trevor and myself. This was only Trevor’s second football game and after the incidents in Rome, I didn’t think he’d be ‘batting’ again but fair play to him.
The train journey up to Milan was a few hours long and the attendants weren’t up to supplying us with very much alcohol, so we made do with some ‘blow’ that was kindly brought along by one of the lads. We were all giddy as fuck when we reached the hotel and went straight on the lash. There were a group of Blackburn Whites in the hotel bar and as usual in these situations; there was a loud mouth twat making a pillock of himself and slating the barman off. After an hour or so of ‘bad mouthing’, the lad said he was shutting the bar and after slinging the loud mouth prat out, I persuaded the barman to keep the bar open for us……..he was quite amused that we’d christened him’Frank’! we went on to get quite hammered that night and to Pollards amusement, I even made a ‘barfing’ deposit in the flowerbeds!! (I personally put it down to too much ‘blow’)!!
Next day after a solid breakfast, w were looking forward to a good day on the beer and hopefully getting a result against Milan. Unfortunately, a couple of Leeds fans had been stabbed, one in the stomach with a broken bottle, so the lawmen, in there wisdom, had decided to close all the bars in Milan!! Now, imagine 7,000 Leeds fans wandering around the centre of Milan, all looking for a bar that was willing to serve them and constantly being refused. The atmosphere just got more and more tense until it ended up with violent confrontations with the law.
Our group were lucky enough to find a licensed side street café that was owned by an Inter Milan fan and he was more than happy to welcome us in with open arms. All our phones were constantly ringing, as fans all over Milan were looking to find a gaff where they could get a drink but if we’d disclosed our location, we’d have been swamped. We spent around six hours in the bar/café and as well as having a bite to eat, we drank every drop of alcohol that the guy had on the premises.
The journey to the San Siro was manic!! The tube trains were packed with an army of Leeds fans and the excitement of the walk up to the ground was highlighted when the stadium came into view. The Italian lawmen didn’t give a monkey’s arse about the fan’s safety and proceeded to filter all the Leeds lads into the nearest entrances as quickly as possible. Behind the goal at the ‘Leeds’ end was absolutely packed as thousands of fans were crammed into the same area! It became really dangerous with fans almost being crushed under the constant stream of bodies and eventually it kicked off. There were battles with the law and the ‘Whites’ even turned on each other to save being crushed as the surge through the turnstiles continued.
I’d had a small op a few days previous and had half a dozen stitches in my groin, which wasn’t really the best preparation for a game of this stature but what the hell! As the melee continued, I ended up in between the seats a few rows further down than when I had started and knew that the wound in my groin was bleeding! Just my fucking luck! The law seemed to have calmed things down slightly but through the gaps on the terrace, I could see an old mate of mine, Nicky Muff, throwing punches for all he was worth at anyone in striking distance, ha, damn barmpot!
Milan missed a penalty before Matteo put Leeds in front, which had Leeds fans in Heaven and had every A.C fan snivelling in their soup. Hee hee. The game ended in a 1-1 draw, which put Leeds into the last 16. Milan fans were nowhere to be seen when we came out of the ground and we went the ‘lush’, having a serious drink to celebrate!
The next morning I visited a chemist, with Pollard in tow, to try and purchase some dressings for the groin wound, there was quite a spill of blood that had leaked from the split stitches. We were struggling in the chemist, as neither the bloke nor the woman could speak our lingo and in the end, I just dropped my strides and pointed to the bleeding wound!! Pollard was on the floor howling with laughter but it did the trick and I got a pile of dressings and anaesthetic cream.
On the train back to Venice we misheard the announcement and got off at Vicenza. We had to jump on the next train and although all worked out ok, we nearly missed the sodding flight. So home we went, with the Christmas break looming on the horizon.
CHAPTER 13
It was a few days before Christmas and after breaking up from work, foremost on everyone’s mind was going out on the beer and partying. Bradford had always had some great pubs and a good night life but in recent years a lot of the pubs had been replaced by crappy wine bars that were full of young trendy tossers and student types and most of the ‘town boys’ seemed to have disappeared.
We were on a mission to let our hair down and have a top day on the booze. A few back street pubs with a few old mates and we were on our way into town to meet up with all the guys from work. We entered the Queens after a good gallon and we were buzzing. It was busy with Christmas ‘finishers’, spirits were high and the atmosphere was tripping. There were five of us in our direct group and the other four mingled with all our workmates while I had a chat with one of the doormen, who I’d known for a number of years. After a couple of drinks, everyone started to move to the next pub, I was with my mate Si and after bidding John, the bouncer, farewell, we went to catch up with the crowd. As we approached the next bar, there was a little bit of a queue and as we got to the door, Si started to enter but one of the two Asian doormen said I’d had too much to drink and couldn’t come in. I tried to explain that I hadn’t and had a dodgy knee but they were so arrogant and full of themselves and were having none of it. A couple of mates came out and after a short conversation, common sense prevailed and we persuaded the two ‘jobsworths’ to let me in. Less than half an hour later and it was time to move on but on the way out, one of the doorman thought he’d make a few smart ‘quips’ and have a laugh on our behalf. Well, words were exchanged and the smaller of the two doormen took a cheap shot and punched me on the back of my head, as I turned, the cheeky ‘tool’ digged me straight in the middle of the cheek. Well all hell broke loose and the two fellas had to earn their pay, or, rather not! I managed to land a decent shot on my assailant and sent him flying backwards, his partner, who was a lot taller and a bit of a boxer, so I learned later, came forward and although I was stood a step lower down, I caught him with an uppercut that went straight through his guard and he ended up with an open wound from his eye to his hairline. These two had opened a hornet’s nest and got well stung as three or four, pissed off guys got weighed into them. They were very good with the verbal but after having the shit knocked out of them in the foyer, they ended up running into the bar, crying for help and covered in ‘claret’. Start it………. finish it.
Unfortunately for me, it hadn’t crossed my mind that the two so called ‘doormen’ would get the law and start searching all the pubs in the surrounding area but hey ho, that’s exactly what these two clowns did and inside the hour, both Si and myself were sat in the cold cells for the rest of the night…………………..
We were arrested as we left a bar in the middle of Bradford and the law weren’t exactly light gloved about it. The Bobbies quizzed and chased, wanting to know who else was involved in the incident at The Bank pub and when no other names came forward, they said that Simon and myself would carry the whole load. The doormen said that I used a bottle, causing one of them to have the top of his head glued and that I had called them ‘Black Bastards’. A right load of bollocks on both counts but the lawmen were going to nail me, no matter what. Now, these two ‘doormen’ said I’d gone off on one and attacked them with the back up of a couple of mates after arguing with them on the steps. Now then, there were no cameras, no bottle, no witnesses on the prosecutions behalf and the doormen even said that I didn’t even go inside the pub!! Not a lot to work with but the CPS were adamant to go ahead and put a case against us. My brief said there was no way that it would get to court as they had nothing………..how wrong.
Back at work, I seemed to receive the full backing of the management and the General Manager, told me to keep him, personally, up to speed with the progress of all proceedings and he’d support me fully.
I didn’t get to many footie games that year for obvious reasons, plenty of maintenance work, a reasonably low profile and numerous court appearances taking their toll.
Lucy had managed to earn a place on the Great Briton Skating Squad the previous year and had moved up to Aire so she could train at the Centrum Arena with most of the other squad members. Half a dozen of the skaters stayed in a large house with the coach, Joy. The cost was crippling but we were managing to sustain it…..just. Still travelling all over the UK for competitions, along with accommodation costs and constantly driving up to Aire and back, all added up. The biggest joke was the National Lottery’s input. Lucy was entitled to funding after making National squad and we were sent a cheque for £200 for the year from The Sports Aid Foundation, which was laughable, as this covered less than one weeks expenses…….I almost sent the cheque back telling them to stuff it! Although Lucy had been winning plenty of competitions, she was having more than her fair share of injuries and the fees for consultants and physio’s were an extra ‘bag of coal’ to carry. Week after week she was having treatment for hip, thigh and back pains and even the hospital scans were inconclusive as to the cause of the problems. We were open to any suggestions that could point us in the right direction and our next port of call was a physiotherapist in Halifax who had treated some of the Halifax Blue Sox players. She straight away told me to stop Lucy skating and diagnosed major damage to the spine!! We had further scans that confirmed Lucy had three vertebrae that were badly worn and two that were cracked…………..that was that, no more freestyle skating. She was offered a place in the British Squad as a dance, pairs skater but after a short ‘test drive’, decided against that option. So, skating career over, a potentially great skating talent lost and one devastated teenage daughter. It was back to school sixth form with the view of heading off to University.
Kirrane was to get married to Sally in August that year and had arranged a stag weekend in Newcastle for a large group of us. Some really good lads, Pete, Shaun, Craig, Peg, Merv, Scott, Matt Adams,just to name a few. We went Quad biking on the way there and there were a few crashes but the funniest thing was the starter shouted to go and Merv just sat there as the rest of the Quads set off! Merv is totally deaf!! The hotel was in Gateshead and we met up with my brother Pete near the bridge and headed into Newcastle, stopping off at quite a few boozers on the way. The shit hit the fan in a pub near the Quayside, Pete, big Shaun and Craig were at it but the bouncers came running from all the boozers in the area and we definitely had to do one! We all got split up and as I was on the phone to Shaun, I was knocked over by a taxi! One minute I was chatting to him and the next, I was rolling over the bonnet and hitting the floor. I was still talking to Shaun as I lay on the deck and the taxi driver was all I a panic asking if I was ok!
The next morning I had a large black bruise, covering the outside of my thigh and was limping slightly to say the least. A few beers at lunchtime at Scotch Corner and although I was feeling sore, I was in a more relaxed state! We’d had a decent trip and we were all slightly worse for wear. Poor Matt just ‘barfed’ all the way home…..not in a good state at all!
Simon wanted to press some charges against the law for ‘knocking’ him about on the night of the arrest but had been well advised to stay clear of that avenue, although we both thought he had pretty good cause! The charges against Simon were dropped by the CPS but I was charged with actual bodily harm and assault with a weapon, although they did drop the racist factor and the affray charge. It turned out that one of the doormen at the Bank pub had done some work for us at the Rio club, a few years previous. Although I hadn’t recognised him, I remembered the name and also remember, after giving him numerous chances to prove himself, having to lay him off because he wasn’t right cracking as a doorman!! Maybe this was why the guy was feeding the law a load of old shite and trying to have me nailed. There were one or two magistrate court hearings and things seemed to be coming on top a little. I was advised to drop all contact with any doorstaff and basically told that it would be in my favour to stay well clear of any involvement to the supply of security in any shape or form. If not, the prosecution would do their up most to use it against me. The case was to go to Crown Court but my Barrister was adamant that there was very little evidence and no witnesses so in his opinion, it was highly unlikely that I would be found guilty. This was turning out to be a shitty year……….. the skating, this pile of crap on my toes and to cap it all, Leeds losing in the semis of the Champions League.
