Football Ground Map
Football Ground Map
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Are there any other right thinking people out there who also feel that after Lawrie McMenemy and Keith Burkinshaw walked on to the pitch at the Dell in 1978, hand-in-hand on the last day of the season to precede the chanceless 0-0 draw that sent Spurs up on goal difference at Brighton's expense, that the following should have happened to Southampton:
a) The Football League should have expelled them from the league for
not trying.
b) A plague of locusts should have been visited upon them to ravage
their crops.
c) The first born son of each family in Southampton should have been
killed by God as a warning to other non-triers?
Oh, all right then, but the Football League should have taken strong action against Southampton - a minimum of denying them the promotion that they had won would fit their crime. I noticed that Spurs fans wrecked the Dell anyway that day.
And weren't Blackpool impossibly unlucky to be relegated that season. They fought tooth and claw in a desperate 2-1 win for the Albion on that last day - only, of course in those days, it was not the last day of the season. an improbable series of results going against them conspired to send them down. A better advertisement for the current last day showdown I cannot conceive.
Brighton 3-0 Doncaster, 1970, Division Three. Six years old and sitting in the South Stand. Brian Powney, our goalie, could have worn the same clean kit the next game. Mind you, it would have been a bit smelly by then.
Liverpool 1-2 Brighton, FA Cup 5th round, Anfield 1983. Not close. No, not remotely close. We had been to see Everton-Spurs the day before and read the morning papers in which Howard Kendall was asked, "Who would you like in the next round?" Answer "Brighton" - cue roars of laughter as we were at Anfield that Sunday afternoon. An evenish first half saw us take a 1-0 lead into the break, courtesy of Gerry Ryan; then Liverpool, the champions, undefeated at Anfield in the Cup since Lord knows when, emerged for the second half. They didn't just boss the game, they took it by the scruff of the neck and they scored an inevitable equaliser. Bang! Less than a minute later Jimmy Case has rifled one past Clemence from 30 yards out. For the last 25 minutes the ball barely, if ever, came out of the Albion half, with Liverpool playing pinball in the Brighton goalmouth. How many of you have seen Phil Neal miss a penalty? He missed one that day as outlandish hope grew to a slow realisation that we were watching something special. We were watching something that we might never see again. (Actually, I think Liverpool fans have seen them lose at home in the cup since then.) Catching the bus back to the station in a horde of unsmiling scousers was quite entertaining too!
Second best. Brighton 2-1 Sheffield Wednesday, FA Cup semi-final, Highbury 1983. Our four year spell in the First Division was coming to an end - not absolutely confirmed, but inevitable - as a direct consequence of one of football's worst ever decisions. The sacking of Mike Bailey - "too boring" we were told. He had one full season with us, got us to our highest ever league position and was on the way to consolidating the Albion's position - and replacing him with Coco the Clown - sorry, that should have read, Dancing Shoes Jimmy Melia. Jimmy was on a one way trip to Division Two and we all came along for the ride - but what a ride it was. We were probably underdogs in all our cup ties that season, but, whatever else he did, Jimmy Melia did get us to the Cup Final. THE BLOODY CUP FINAL! And we so nearly snuck past United whilst they weren't looking.
Grimsby 5-0 Brighton, February 1985 (maybe '84). And we were lucky to keep it so close. A tortuously slow train journey, with two changes, got me to lovely Lincolnshire and all that Cleeethorpes had to offer. No matter that it was the coldest day of the year and black skies poured drenching rain - it merely enabled you to soak up the local atmosphere encapsulated by the Findus fish factory. But it would be all right at the ground - it was covered on all sides, wasn't it? Yeah, right. The away end faced the North Sea, pushing the decision to provide the stand with a roof into the realms of fanciful architectural whimsy. At least the fight against hypothermia distracted us from the nonsense unfolding on the pitch. Freed at last, we were given a police escort to within 400 yards of the station. "It's just up there, lads!" cried the departing police, with a cheery wave. And it was so nice of the home fans to meet us a 100 yards further on to ensure that we did not lose our way.
No, now you come to mention it, I haven't been back.
At home, light years in front of the 2-8 shocker to Warboys and Bannister (at least they could play a bit) was the 0-4 first round replay cup exit to Walton & Hersham, also under Cloughie, for pities sake.
Big seat for a big man, perfect view and free beer. It didn't matter that the gooners were"just tea and scones" (to quote the bhoys behind me), because the away end knew a few ditties.
Are you kidding? If London is a village, then in the 1980s most of its idiots seemed to frequent Cold Blow Lane. The journey to the gound got you in the mood - dismal estates served as a backdrop for angry dark clusters of seething, staring malevolence. At the ground untethered, violent, hysterical children, seeking to impress their elders, were given free rein to harrass and aggravate the away end, with an indulgent police looking on - they only had eyes for you. If you won - for goodness sake, if you won - your very best hope was to be bundled into the back of a police van to be let out at Clapham Junction. A thoroughly unpleasant experience - until you remembered the scoreline.
