The Travelling Hordes

Bryn Jones is a Racecourse steward. He's based in and around the Eric Roberts Builders Stand, so he gets a fantastic insight into the psyche of visiting fans...

No.38 - Shrewsbury 'non-league' Town

Fantastic match. Fantastic atmosphere. Fantastic away fans. Yep, I'll repeat that. Fantastic away fans. I'm constantly amazed by all of this. On Saturday we had 300 or so Rushden fans. Most were fine but a handful of drunks were a pain in the B.T. More of them elsewhere. Along come 2,000 or so hyped-up cross-border "enemies". The club calls on 80 stewards, the copper chopper, dogs and 200 bobbies to be ready for Armageddon. One Helluva game, a dodgy ref, a fight on the pitch and the scene should be set for The Mother of all Scraps in the Marston's.

And what do we get? A handful of drunks, a lot of "Sheepshagger" chants, but, otherwise, a truly fantastic atmosphere. Weird and wonderful.
I must admit, I've always liked Shropshire. If I had to live over the border, it would be my choice of location. I find the scenery great and the people very friendly. I like the accent, which sounds like an old tractor falling asleep. Don't worry, I've not gone soft. I know the anti-Welsh thing is always there, but it lacks the arrogance you get in Chester.

I'm not deluding myself either about events during the game. It could have gone off, and maybe it did elsewhere. But, in the Marston's there was mostly a lively, but non-violent, atmosphere. I chucked one drunk out right at the beginning, but this was partly at the request of the Shrewsbury fans, anyway.

He was a forty-something who was so well oiled he could have lubricated an aircraft carrier. He was not obnoxious. He was just about as drunk as it's possible to be without actually sinking into a coma. He kept jumping up and falling down, much to the annoyance of the fans around him. The trouble was, the first bobbies on my step were Shropshire Lads. They seemed to know him and kept humouring him, rather than helping me remove the daft sod. Luckily, shortly after kick-off, two North Wales bobbies joined me. The next time he refused to leave at my request, they removed him for me, to the general thanks of the nearby fans.

One of the bobbies stayed on the step. He had been drafted in from Shotton and was quite friendly. Some of them can be a bit aloof to be honest, which I suppose is a necessary part of the job. We were able to chat a bit because the atmosphere stayed frenetic, but friendly.

At one point the Shrewsbury fans started the 'Shit Ground, No Fans' routine. Then their brain cells must have flown back home and showed them little pictures of Gay Meadow on a typical Saturday. So they quickly shut up. It was like that.

After the match I watched the police in action shifting both sets of fans. It all seemed to pass off quite peacefully, although the Wrexham kid bitten by the dog might have a different view. Is it my imagination, or are police dogs getting smaller? None of the ones on duty seemed to be as big as Eric, my lurcher. I seem to remember alsatians being big hairy jobs with paws like shovels. Or was that the coppers? Maybe it's our old friend, political correctness. 

Sorry Chief Constable. I'm afraid you can't refuse that corgi there a job. That would be discrimination on the grounds of size.

What about this one then. It's a labrador.

Nope, otherwise we'd be guilty of discriminating just because it's stupid.

What about this sausage dog?

Yep, give it a job, otherwise the Society For the Terminally Naff will be after us.

What about his one, then?

Yep, and that one.

Even though it's a hamster.

Yep, C.C. Even though it's a hamster.

I don't know about you, but I like people to fit the job they're doing and not just get it to satisfy some pressure group. I like my coppers to be big and fit, and able to stand up to thugs, and I like coppers' dogs to be odds-on favourites to win their next fight with coppers' cats. I also like my teachers to be able to spell properly and my chart-toppers to be able to sing. I like my footballers to be blokes (does anybody outside of Doncaster look for Doncaster Belles' results on Ceefax?). I like my bouncers to be bigger than brick shit houses (brains optional). I expect our lads in the Gulf to be just that - lads - and, no matter how drunk I have been, I expect the person in bed with me the next day to have breasts. And that does not include Phil Jupitas. I don't give a Castlemaine XXXX whether they are black, white, green or lilac. I don't care what language they speak, what church they go to (if any) and their politics is irrelevant. 

Oh yes, and I like my football team to be able to kick a ball and their manager to talk straight and motivate. I like my matches to be exciting and the whole event to be an ENTERTAINMENT. And on those last four counts, I feel quite satisfied this past few days. Thank you, both clubs and both lots of fans. Let's have some more, please. Brilliant night.

THE TRAVELLING HORDES WILL BE BACK NEXT SEASON