Football Warfare
A trip to the north – the good, the bad and the ugly
Today was a contrast between peace and war. I wish you’d been here to enjoy the peaceful times, touring the beautiful English country side of the Yorkshire and Derbyshire Dales. But not the war…
First the peace…
The Dales are superbly sweet, and spiritually soft. Bit like where a hobbit should live. Many roads have cattle grids, after which there’s nothing but forests and lakes, mountains and waterfalls, and wild horses and sheep. Village cottages, and walls around countryside fields, are all made from slabs of local stone, unique and quaint.
But the dearest heart’s delight is the food. Many towns and villages cook their own ancient recipe, food you can’t buy elsewhere – such as Derby Oatcake Veggie and Cheese Crust Bake from Derby; Bakewell tart and Bakewell pudding from Bakewell; Eccles cake from Eccles; Chorley Cake from Chorley; Yorkshire pudding beef dinner from Yorkshire, Wensley Dale cheese from Wensley Dale cheese factory and so on. Yummy and heavenly... Hope you’ll be with me to enjoy it too one day.
One morning relaxing was spent calmly watching a sheep auction, where thin, poorly dressed local farmers sold horned, black-headed, or spotted sheep, and fat richly dressed men bought them. And tasting my way around first a cheese factory and then a chocolate factory. In between, I stopped at Olde Englishe Afternoon Tea Rooms etc, each time writing some more of my next book. Next book now finished (hooray – you’ll be almost as pleased as me)…
So there was much peace. But later came the completely contrasting war. I’m not a sports fanatic – I just enjoy everything possible on this little planet. So I've travelled this country and abroad to watch sports games of all types, and rarely saw problems between rival fans. That was, until being amongst Leeds United Soccer Club 'fans' this week.
I drove to Elland Road – the Leeds soccer ground, to support Manchester United against Leeds hours too early. So I parked on the forecourt of the near-empty Old Peacock pub opposite the ground, and went in for a drink and to start typing my next book on my laptop.
Soon, the pub filled with blue and white clad Leeds fans chanting about Manchester United players dying in a plane crash in 1957, and yelling at each other about how many Manchester United supporters they'd tear heads open. I wore a red jersey, the colour of Manchester United, luckily without Manchester United insignia. Amongst all the abusive singing, yelling and screaming, two huge guys came over to me. One, a strapping skinhead, just stared at my red jersey. Then asked, ‘Do you support Manchester United?’
‘Yes’, I replied innocently, not realizing I was in danger.
The skinhead looked incredulous. ‘What the…? I was joking! Are you joking?’.
Still not understanding, I replied quietly, ‘No, I’m not joking, I support Manchester United.’
He repeated again that he was joking, and was I joking?
And again. And then plonked himself angrily on the seat next to me.
‘Don’t you realize NO-ONE comes in this pub unless they support Leeds? The last guy that tried got his head split open. He pointed to marks on the floor. They’re blood stains. That’s what we do.’
I think I was supposed to be scared, but I don’t scare easily. I never fight – just use positive energy. After run-ins with the Mexican Mafia, Russian Mafia, and IRA (the latter on tape with them threatening to blow my kneecaps off if I didn’t leave the country), the crowd of chanting skinheads didn’t really seem too bad. That was, until the skinhead next to me scowled, lowered his head and pointed to his crown. A huge scar encircled most of his head.
I was getting the message I wasn’t welcome. The rest of the skinheads were spitting drink over each other and shouting which of them could tear most Manchester United supporters apart. The skinhead next to me again jabbed his finger at his scar.
It was obvious. As the only person wearing red in an angry tide of blue and white, I wasn’t welcome.
But life is always just fine! If we have a job of work to do on Earth, to help relieve the suffering of Mankind, we’re protected by the Gods. And as an angelic soul myself, there is a deeper knowing about safety in tough situations in which some might say, Angels could fear to tread.
The guy was still jabbing his finger at his scar. ‘Nice scar!’ I said. ‘Brilliant! How did you get it?’
The thing is, tough guys expect you to be tough back, or to run. Not to commend him on what a nice scar he had. He showed me other scars on his tattooed arms and legs, and told of the time he was abroad watching an England international match, and took a dislike to opposing fans. So he charged into them all, just by himself. And was ‘bottled’. He was imprisoned and banned from England games, but still charges into fans whenever he can. ‘Seriously’, he ended, ‘tell me seriously. I was joking when I asked if you were a Manchester United supporter. Were you joking?’
I deal with energy, and could feel his vicious energies recede. He just couldn’t believe a supporter from Manchester United had dared enter the Leeds United pub.
‘No I wasn’t joking,’ I said for the final time.
‘You know’, he said, a bit more calmly. ‘I swore to all my mates in here, that if ever a Manchester United supporter came into the pub, I’d rip his head open first, then when he’s on the floor, I’d bite the nose off and swallow it so it couldn't be stitched back on.’
I believed the guy. But could sense his aggressive energy had almost left, and felt safe.
‘You’re different’ he said. ‘You haven’t confronted me. If you had you’d be dead. Look, I’ll help you. Don’t tell anyone else in here you’re a Manchester United supporter – you’ll never leave in one piece.’ He pointed to my laptop. ‘I’ll tell everyone you’re a reporter from the Yorkshire Evening Post. My mates here like that paper.’
I was safe. Time for a photo for the records. He refused at first. Cheekily, I sat between the two guys, on the skinhead’s knee and the knee of his friend who’d just sneered and stared at me all the time. So although they were much bigger than me, the photo makes them look small. The skinhead grinned into the camera, as he pointed a finger at me. ‘Show that to your Manchester United mates – they’ll never believe it otherwise.’
A few minutes later I realised how lucky and protected I’d been. A local radio reporter was in the pub, and made comments on air about the Leeds chairman. He was forced to leave because Leeds fans hated his comments and would have attacked him if he’d stayed.
I went outside soon after. My ticket was for the entrance to the ground opposite. But scenes seemed as bad as the London or LA riots. Maybe the scenes were worse, because the London and LA riots were spread over days – this was all within an hour. According to the police I spoke to after the game, about 1,000 police, horses, dogs, helicopter, video vans etc tried to cordon about 5,000 Leeds supporters and prevent Manchester United fans being attacked.
Police with riot helmets and shields marched around in squads of about 30 to 50. In front of the stadium entrance were numerous police with video cameras, and rows of police with dogs. Behind them were lines of riot police like foot soldiers. And behind them were lines of riot police on horses, like cavalry behind the infantry.
In the mayhem, the police didn't see the bottles, stones, bricks, etc being readied for Manchester United fans' arrival…
Coaches and buses full of Manchester United fans stopped to let them out far from the stadium. It was a feeble attempt at safety – bus windows were smashed by waiting Leeds fan’s bottles before the buses even came to a stop!!!
Police gathered Manchester United fans in one long line. When all 3,000 Manchester United fans were together, the police, dressed in full riot gear, marched alongside them, escorting them to the soccer ground.
As soon the Manchester United fans arrived near the stadium, bottles and bricks rained like meteorites. Bricks smashed into the police lines and Manchester United fans. Even the side of the stadium was smashed by bottles, showering broken glass over Manchester United fans and police.
I don't scare easily, but... Especially as I seemed to be the only Manchester United supporter (luckily not recognizable) caught amongst angry, running, screaming Leeds crowds trying to charge police lines to battle MU fans.
Again and again Leeds ‘fans’ tried to charge through police lines. I witnessed much violence and many arrests.
But I felt so proud of our police, who contained violence without resorting to violence themselves.
And, considering the immense pre-meditated provocation, I'm proud Manchester United fans didn't react with like for like violence.
I waited until the road cleared and the game had started before entering the ground. Inside was a soccer match!! I'm proud the Manchester United team weren't intimidated, and won so easily, 3-0.
After, I waited inside the ground with other Manchester United fans for over half an hour. Loudspeaker messages stated we were held back for our safety. When we eventually left the ground, the police had cleared the area. There was no Leeds supporter in sight, just squads of police and countless broken bottles and bricks, a reminder of the darker side that sadly still exists in pockets around the world.
In a way, the Leeds skinheads reminded me of the sheep auction. They just follow each other, like sheep, but aggressive ones. I pray that by making a friend of one of the most violent skinheads, a chink of light can start to appear in their darkness. And one less sheep might begin to diminish the herd and its mentality.
Chat soon xx
Allan xxx
A trip to the north – the good, the bad and the ugly
Today was a contrast between peace and war. I wish you’d been here to enjoy the peaceful times, touring the beautiful English country side of the Yorkshire and Derbyshire Dales. But not the war…
First the peace…
The Dales are superbly sweet, and spiritually soft. Bit like where a hobbit should live. Many roads have cattle grids, after which there’s nothing but forests and lakes, mountains and waterfalls, and wild horses and sheep. Village cottages, and walls around countryside fields, are all made from slabs of local stone, unique and quaint.
But the dearest heart’s delight is the food. Many towns and villages cook their own ancient recipe, food you can’t buy elsewhere – such as Derby Oatcake Veggie and Cheese Crust Bake from Derby; Bakewell tart and Bakewell pudding from Bakewell; Eccles cake from Eccles; Chorley Cake from Chorley; Yorkshire pudding beef dinner from Yorkshire, Wensley Dale cheese from Wensley Dale cheese factory and so on. Yummy and heavenly... Hope you’ll be with me to enjoy it too one day.
One morning relaxing was spent calmly watching a sheep auction, where thin, poorly dressed local farmers sold horned, black-headed, or spotted sheep, and fat richly dressed men bought them. And tasting my way around first a cheese factory and then a chocolate factory. In between, I stopped at Olde Englishe Afternoon Tea Rooms etc, each time writing some more of my next book. Next book now finished (hooray – you’ll be almost as pleased as me)…
So there was much peace. But later came the completely contrasting war. I’m not a sports fanatic – I just enjoy everything possible on this little planet. So I've travelled this country and abroad to watch sports games of all types, and rarely saw problems between rival fans. That was, until being amongst Leeds United Soccer Club 'fans' this week.
I drove to Elland Road – the Leeds soccer ground, to support Manchester United against Leeds hours too early. So I parked on the forecourt of the near-empty Old Peacock pub opposite the ground, and went in for a drink and to start typing my next book on my laptop.
Soon, the pub filled with blue and white clad Leeds fans chanting about Manchester United players dying in a plane crash in 1957, and yelling at each other about how many Manchester United supporters they'd tear heads open. I wore a red jersey, the colour of Manchester United, luckily without Manchester United insignia. Amongst all the abusive singing, yelling and screaming, two huge guys came over to me. One, a strapping skinhead, just stared at my red jersey. Then asked, ‘Do you support Manchester United?’
‘Yes’, I replied innocently, not realizing I was in danger.
The skinhead looked incredulous. ‘What the…? I was joking! Are you joking?’.
Still not understanding, I replied quietly, ‘No, I’m not joking, I support Manchester United.’
He repeated again that he was joking, and was I joking?
And again. And then plonked himself angrily on the seat next to me.
‘Don’t you realize NO-ONE comes in this pub unless they support Leeds? The last guy that tried got his head split open. He pointed to marks on the floor. They’re blood stains. That’s what we do.’
I think I was supposed to be scared, but I don’t scare easily. I never fight – just use positive energy. After run-ins with the Mexican Mafia, Russian Mafia, and IRA (the latter on tape with them threatening to blow my kneecaps off if I didn’t leave the country), the crowd of chanting skinheads didn’t really seem too bad. That was, until the skinhead next to me scowled, lowered his head and pointed to his crown. A huge scar encircled most of his head.
I was getting the message I wasn’t welcome. The rest of the skinheads were spitting drink over each other and shouting which of them could tear most Manchester United supporters apart. The skinhead next to me again jabbed his finger at his scar.
It was obvious. As the only person wearing red in an angry tide of blue and white, I wasn’t welcome.
But life is always just fine! If we have a job of work to do on Earth, to help relieve the suffering of Mankind, we’re protected by the Gods. And as an angelic soul myself, there is a deeper knowing about safety in tough situations in which some might say, Angels could fear to tread.
The guy was still jabbing his finger at his scar. ‘Nice scar!’ I said. ‘Brilliant! How did you get it?’
The thing is, tough guys expect you to be tough back, or to run. Not to commend him on what a nice scar he had. He showed me other scars on his tattooed arms and legs, and told of the time he was abroad watching an England international match, and took a dislike to opposing fans. So he charged into them all, just by himself. And was ‘bottled’. He was imprisoned and banned from England games, but still charges into fans whenever he can. ‘Seriously’, he ended, ‘tell me seriously. I was joking when I asked if you were a Manchester United supporter. Were you joking?’
I deal with energy, and could feel his vicious energies recede. He just couldn’t believe a supporter from Manchester United had dared enter the Leeds United pub.
‘No I wasn’t joking,’ I said for the final time.
‘You know’, he said, a bit more calmly. ‘I swore to all my mates in here, that if ever a Manchester United supporter came into the pub, I’d rip his head open first, then when he’s on the floor, I’d bite the nose off and swallow it so it couldn't be stitched back on.’
I believed the guy. But could sense his aggressive energy had almost left, and felt safe.
‘You’re different’ he said. ‘You haven’t confronted me. If you had you’d be dead. Look, I’ll help you. Don’t tell anyone else in here you’re a Manchester United supporter – you’ll never leave in one piece.’ He pointed to my laptop. ‘I’ll tell everyone you’re a reporter from the Yorkshire Evening Post. My mates here like that paper.’
I was safe. Time for a photo for the records. He refused at first. Cheekily, I sat between the two guys, on the skinhead’s knee and the knee of his friend who’d just sneered and stared at me all the time. So although they were much bigger than me, the photo makes them look small. The skinhead grinned into the camera, as he pointed a finger at me. ‘Show that to your Manchester United mates – they’ll never believe it otherwise.’
A few minutes later I realised how lucky and protected I’d been. A local radio reporter was in the pub, and made comments on air about the Leeds chairman. He was forced to leave because Leeds fans hated his comments and would have attacked him if he’d stayed.
I went outside soon after. My ticket was for the entrance to the ground opposite. But scenes seemed as bad as the London or LA riots. Maybe the scenes were worse, because the London and LA riots were spread over days – this was all within an hour. According to the police I spoke to after the game, about 1,000 police, horses, dogs, helicopter, video vans etc tried to cordon about 5,000 Leeds supporters and prevent Manchester United fans being attacked.
Police with riot helmets and shields marched around in squads of about 30 to 50. In front of the stadium entrance were numerous police with video cameras, and rows of police with dogs. Behind them were lines of riot police like foot soldiers. And behind them were lines of riot police on horses, like cavalry behind the infantry.
In the mayhem, the police didn't see the bottles, stones, bricks, etc being readied for Manchester United fans' arrival…
Coaches and buses full of Manchester United fans stopped to let them out far from the stadium. It was a feeble attempt at safety – bus windows were smashed by waiting Leeds fan’s bottles before the buses even came to a stop!!!
Police gathered Manchester United fans in one long line. When all 3,000 Manchester United fans were together, the police, dressed in full riot gear, marched alongside them, escorting them to the soccer ground.
As soon the Manchester United fans arrived near the stadium, bottles and bricks rained like meteorites. Bricks smashed into the police lines and Manchester United fans. Even the side of the stadium was smashed by bottles, showering broken glass over Manchester United fans and police.
I don't scare easily, but... Especially as I seemed to be the only Manchester United supporter (luckily not recognizable) caught amongst angry, running, screaming Leeds crowds trying to charge police lines to battle MU fans.
Again and again Leeds ‘fans’ tried to charge through police lines. I witnessed much violence and many arrests.
But I felt so proud of our police, who contained violence without resorting to violence themselves.
And, considering the immense pre-meditated provocation, I'm proud Manchester United fans didn't react with like for like violence.
I waited until the road cleared and the game had started before entering the ground. Inside was a soccer match!! I'm proud the Manchester United team weren't intimidated, and won so easily, 3-0.
After, I waited inside the ground with other Manchester United fans for over half an hour. Loudspeaker messages stated we were held back for our safety. When we eventually left the ground, the police had cleared the area. There was no Leeds supporter in sight, just squads of police and countless broken bottles and bricks, a reminder of the darker side that sadly still exists in pockets around the world.
In a way, the Leeds skinheads reminded me of the sheep auction. They just follow each other, like sheep, but aggressive ones. I pray that by making a friend of one of the most violent skinheads, a chink of light can start to appear in their darkness. And one less sheep might begin to diminish the herd and its mentality.
Chat soon xx
Allan xxx
