RIP Gary Speed

I usually try to make anything I write interesting. Try being the main word. You can’t fault a try-er. Much has been said about Gary Speed, but here’s my little take on the situation I found myself in this afternoon.

I was walking by Bramall Lane on my way to interview some people at a homeless shelter (I know, what a joyful day), and saw a shrine in the main car park. A shrine I have seen pictures of on the internet. I popped by to see it for myself. I took the picture below.

The shrine starts at one statue (Joe Shaw) and finishes at another (Derek Hooley). It’s about 10m long. I took my headphones out my ears and started viewing the tributes from one end. Flowers, pictures, shirts, scarves.  It’s very rare I get a lump in my throat (apart from the constant one that is my Adams apple), but on this occasion I did. It was deftly silent. The rain had soaked many items through, but the messages and colour still stood out.

I was then joined  by a middle aged woman, a teenager, and an old couple who replaced some old flowers with a new bunch. Then a mother and her son turned up. Her son was about 8 and he had an a4 sheet of paper with a photo of Gary Speed on it. On it he had written “Sleep tight with the angels Gary. I’ll miss you”. The moment was ruined slightly when the sheet blew off. At 8 years old one would imagine someone would be aware that paper blows away in wind, but, it was no problem. His mum weighted it down with a bunch of flowers and called her son a wally.

Sheffield United items led the way, but also on show were Newcastle shirts, Leeds shirts and Sheffield Wednesday scarves. Any other time, these items would have probably been urinated or spat on.  Not on this occasion.

On my way out I passed a vessel who goes to the gym I go to. He's a security man for Sheffield Hallam University and is the biggest man to go in the gym. When he comes in, I quickly go out, because he puts what I can lift to shame. He has a shaved head, tattoo’s all over, and has enough muscle to rival Fatima Whitbread. You simply do not mess with his type. He turned up to the shrine with his young daughter to pay his respects. He’s a Sheffield Wednesday fan.

I brushed shoulders with Gary Speed at Pride Park in September for the John Hartson charity match. I was armed with a FlashMic ready to interview all the famous people, but I was too star struck to say anything to him. He stood out.

I’ll never forget the Sunday just gone. Never before has the death of a famous person got to me, but this one did. It ruined my Sunday.

RIP Gary Speed.

An insight into the life of a West Ham hooligan

I sat down on the train after a hectic afternoon, hoping for a peaceful journey. In front of me two Hull City fans were being congratulated by the most infuriating Red Dog for their victory over the Rams. A talking dog on the train? A red talking dog on the train? Nope, just a Forest fan, unfortunately. I shook my head to let the neutrals on the train know I disapproved of this stupid adolescent, and it was from here I gained an insight into the mind of a West Ham hooligan first hand.

“Is anyone sat here?” he said. “Not that i’m aware of” I replied. “Fuck em” he charmingly said back, and plonked himself down. There was no-one sat there, so why he felt he needed to “fuck em” I’ll never know.

“You not a Forest fan then?” he said. After explaining in a few words my thoughts on Nottingham Forest, he chuckled and told me he’d been to Coventry supporting the ‘Appy ‘Ammers. This chap: Bald head, Stone Island jacket covering a ‘going out’ shirt, his body riddled in tattoo’s. The combinations spell out ‘hooligan’, don’t they? One particular tattoo really grabbed my attention. On his ear, the bit that gets pierced, was a green/blue mess. I thought the poor man had a disease where mould infested his body. About 15 minutes later after I plucked up the courage to look again and realised it was a tat. Panic over.

I asked him how it was at Coventry, knowing that the Hammers had taken almost 7,000 fans. I was expecting him to give me a bit of a match report, but what I got was “Ahh fuckin nuts. Kicked off under the stand. Went down and police were being heavy handed, putting barriers up, so we just kicked the fuckers down. Too many of us. Brilliant”. Gone were my hopes of wondering how Carlton Cole played, or if Rob Green had made yet another howler, this journey was going to be about hooliganism. And whilst I don’t condone hooliganism (in the slightest), I do find it fascinating.

I chanced my arm. “You go to Millwall then this season?” He did, so I followed up with asking how it was. “Fuckin quiet. There were too many of us”. At this point I was thinking, “ang on, too many of you, but it was quiet?”, but obviously we were on different wavelengths. “We said we’d meet em on Tower Bridge, but they just ran off. Too many of us, we’d have slaughtered them. We’d arranged it before but they just didn’t fancy it”.

I asked about policing, because West Ham v Millwall is notoriously disgusting for fan behaviour. “They were alright. They gathered us up at Stratford Station, and told us we could take our beer on the tube with us. Worked out better for them. Cause if they’d have tried to stop us it would have got nasty”. He continued “I just walked into the ground (at Millwall) without a ticket. I told a copper I was waiting for my mate who brings me tickets every week (for this chap lives up North) but we’d got separated by the police and couldn’t leave their escort. The copper told me to just go in ‘cause we aren’t leaving any of your lot out here on the streets’”. Brave move from the police.

“I hope they let us take 5,000 to Leeds. They can’t cope with us up there. Last time 500 of us walked out early and the police didn’t know what to do. Leeds fans were nowhere to be seen. Too many of us”. This hooligan business seems to be about safety in numbers.

His mate rang him to say he was arriving in Heuston, so the journalistic side of me started twitching. “How come you’re returning to Yorkshire on your own? How did you start supporting West Ham? Fami...”.
“I just liked the colours when I was young. Supported em ever since. Got to support your team haven’t you? Started going on my own and met the lads through years of going”. Forgetting the fact this chap likes a scrap at football, I admire how he had the balls to just travel up and down on his own for years. His knowledge of football was also excellent.

Conversation moved on to me living in Sheffield. “I’m in Sheffield next week for a clothes show” he said. I asked him what that was in aid of, as this wasn’t a man I associated with catwalks. “Me and my mate hire pubs out, buy clothes and then sell em on. We’re doing it with some of the BBC boys”. Just as I was about to say “Ahh i’ve worked for the BBC today actually, answering phones from angry Derby fans” I had a moment of inspiration that spared my blushes. There are two meanings for BBC. Bristish Broadcasting Corporation, and the Blades Business Crew. I realised he was on about the Sheffield United hooligan firm. I have read books about the BBC, so asked this chap if they are still going. He twitched his head, did a funny thing with his lips and said yes. He confirmed the fact they are ‘nasty fuckers’.

I then asked if they get on with each other, and whilst his answer didn’t make me feel like they exchange Christmas cards, he said that they do get on. I imagine they’ve had a good scrap over Carlos Tevez though.

The train pulled into Sheffield. I squeezed past my mate (I believe if you can hold conversation for 40 minutes with someone then you are mates) and told him I enjoyed the chat, and I wasn’t lying. I’d quite like to do a series where I integrate with hooligans (what’s that? Louis Theroux, Ross Kemp and Danny Dyer have already done that?). “Yeah mate. See ya. Good luck” he said.

Good luck with what?

Every Little Helps

I have been going to Tesco Metro in Sheffield now for 2 and a half years, in my quest to stay alive through the consumption of food and drink. They say Tesco will take over the country. I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but they do say it, honestly. Before Tesco contemplate nationwide domination though they need to speak to me about a few of their offers. And I’m going to share the best one’s with you, cause I’m really that nice.

1)     Lager

      Allow me to start off with the classic, will you? My friends (both real and of the Facebook variety) may already know this one as I have harped on about it in the past, but it’s a good’un. 4 cans of Carling for £2.99 instead of £3! Alcoholics across South Yorkshire would have been making pilgrimages to Ecclesall Road to stock up on this offer had I alerted them. I presume the NHS weren’t too happy though, because if people know they can save 1 pence per 4 cans, they’re going to binge drink, aren’t they?

I think I went for the 4 cans of Fosters option in the end, to allow those less fortunate than me to take the reduced Carling.

2)      Pate

Pate has a strange accent above either the a or e but I don’t know how to get them up on here. Anyway, fancied some pate today to have on toast instead of Tesco’s wheat biscuits (Weetabix) in the mornings. I was delighted to see it advertised for 59p. Next to it was a boast that it’s the same price as Aldi. Well that’s not telling us anything is it? It’s neither cheaper nor more expensive than budget supermarket Aldi. Surely a supermarket that is going to take over civilisation has bigger fish to fry? I liken it to a modelling agency offering an hour of my services for the same price as an hour of David Beckham’s services.  I wanted to take a photo but I was surrounded by shelf-stockers and feared they’d throw me outside to stand with the singing Big Issue man.

“Good morrrrning, Big Issue, have a nice dayyyy. Good morrrrning, it’s a lovely day, have a nice day sirrrr Big Issue”

3)      Kiwi’s

You can get a box of 6 kiwi’s for £1. In the 2 and a half years i’ve been shopping in Tesco, there’s been a yellow price tag saying ‘£1. SAVE 49P’. It makes me think that Kiwi’s always have been, and always will be, £1.

4)      Tissues

Another cracker here. I’ve been unfortunate to contract the common cold this week. It’s a partially debilitating virus that robs one of their dignity. A box of tissues was in order to cope with the outpoor of what can only be described as snot. The shelf stockers were nowhere to be seen so I can share pictorial evidence with you. And once again, the folk at Tesco have come up with an offer too good to refuse. I managed to get my box of 100 2ply mansize tissues for £1.60. Had my cold arrived a week earlier, who knows, I may have had to pay £1.61?!?!

All week i’ve been counting my lucky stars for the timing of my cold. What a price drop!

5)      Fish fingers

This is my favourite of all. No picture evidence I’m afraid though cause this offer was spotted on a busy Saturday. The fear of standing outside with the Big Issue man must have been at the forefront of my mind again. Anyway, over in the freezer section they had an incredible offer on. Birdseye Fish Fingers. 99p for a box of 10, or two boxes for £2!!! Well, my heart nearly skipped a beat. Thankfully it didn’t cause I wouldn’t be alive to tell the story if it did. What an offer! Fish finger lovers in Sheffield must have had a field day. I didn’t take them up on the offer for some reason, but if I had it would have been a case of...
“Hello duck, can I have these two boxes of fish fingers please, but I want to buy them separately, ya know, to save me 2 pence”

Every Little Helps.

GREEN ARMY!

Plymouth away is a trek that only the hardiest of football fans will embark on. It is the furthest south, and the furthest west ground in the country, so unless you’re from Exeter or Torquay, you’re in for a journey. When Newcastle took a hiatus from the Premiership a year or two back, they travelled to Plymouth by plane such is the ridiculous distance between the two. I’ve been to Plymouth twice to watch Derby, and the journey by car is a rather bland one, so if you can afford to fly you’re probably better off doing that. If not make sure you’ve got some nice sucky sweets and a few decent cd’s, or a funny friend.

Don’t let the journey put you off though because to landlocked citizens, Plymouth is a lovely place. I’d advise a walk to the Hoe to grab some of that sea air that is meant to cure you of your ailments (just for the record, that’s a myth). You get lovely views out to sea from the Hoe and a glimpse at Plymouths military activity. A walk along the Barbican (streets surrounding the harbour) is also advisable, if only to get some fish and chips. It’s a nice part of the city.

If you take my advice and go to my suggested places of interest, be wary that Home Park is a sizeable walk, and it’s high up, so make sure you are wearing comfortable shoes and trousers; blisters and chafing put a dampener on things. If you’re driving and happen to have a phobia of Plymouth and intend on only seeing the match itself, you’re lucky, because there is a large free car park at the ground. Get there in good time though, if you can stand to be in Plymouth that long. If you don’t have a phobia of Plymouth (i’m not sure Plymophobia is widespread) then street parking is also available for miles around. If you travel by train, once again, wear something comfortable because the station is a good 1.5 miles away. I’ll not give you directions because that’s what Google Maps gets paid to do.

At the ground, get yourself a pasty. Plymouth isn’t quite in Cornwall, but their Cornish pasties do the neighbouring county proud. The hot dogs and burgers are standard (according to those who went down that option). Beer is served in plastic cups and isn’t cheap, but i’m assured nothing is cheap down south. Coca Cola rots teeth, but should you like some of that to drink, they do sell it, along with other soft drinks.

The away end. It’s fully seated (as is the rest of the stadium) with a roof over your head. What more can you ask for? You are situated in the Barn Park Away End, which is behind a goal and there are no viewing restrictions. You will be sat in the left of the stand, unless your team can muster a decent travelling support, in which case you will probably have the whole use of the stand. Seating tends to be unreserved so if you get there early you can pick your spot. If you want to stand, go to the back and you shouldn’t be troubled by the power hungry stewards.

To the left, in the nearest part of the Grandstand, your eyes and ears are greeted by some of the more angry Plymouth fans; the Green Army, or as I refer to them, chavs. A few of them have paid money for season tickets in swearing and goading the away fans (most teams have them). There is no roof on the particular part that the chav brigade stand in, so if your team ever happens to be winning 3-0 and it starts raining, they soon waddle off after wishing you a lovely night with their nice hand gestures. Don’t be alarmed if you are taking children though as the stands aren’t connected and they pose no real threat. The most vocal support comes from the corner to the right, but they are too far away to have any banter with; they might as well be in Cornwall. As a whole, atmosphere in the ground wasn’t fantastic on either visit, but the club was starting their long road to almost liquidation back then, so i’m not too sure i’d be making a song and dance either.

Me and 8 other males visited Home Park on the last occasion, and from memory 6 of us were wearing Derby County apparel. Some of the Green Army appeared to be on day release from Her Majesty’s local prison, and started following us after the match. We stood by the train station to have our picture taken by a big PLYMOUTH sign, don’t know why, but this gave them valuable time to catch up. Once they did, they walked through us in an intimidating fashion, but the tags around their ankles probably gave them a reminder they needed to behave. So, if you plan on wearing your colours, it’s fine, because as in life, the majority of people in Plymouth are nice, but just keep your wits about you.

Most pubs in the centre looked as if they would accept all comers. The Roundabout pub; If you are looking for acceptance in life, go there, because they don’t discriminate between football teams when they are taking your money for fantastic all-day breakfasts and pints of lager. It’s a city though there’s plenty of choice.

I’d advise going to Plymouth. My mates and I had a great time. If you have a young family, make a weekend of it. If you don’t have a young family, there’s plenty of time left yet so don’t worry.

Green Army!!

As an away day experience...8/10

Do you agree? Let me know below.