Why do we support who we do
My Dad never got to excited about football, the only time I ever saw him go
mad was in 1966, Hayling island on holiday in a caravan with two of my
uncles and cousins, they was watching the world cup final on a little black
and white telly while me and my cousins were playing football outside, the
noises coming from that caravan and the way it was rocking you would
have thought there was a small orgy going in there but then they all came
out dancing and cheering, we had won the world cup, Dad was happy, me,
I couldn’t care less.
If you asked my Dad who he supported he would say Millwall, how he
came to support them I don’t know but he did but he hardly ever went to
see them, he would go to the Hatcham Arms on a Saturday lunchtime and
at kick off he would still be in there talking rubbish with his mates until
one day he said to me” I’m taking you to watch Millwall tomorrow” a
short statement that would change my life forever.
I was five it was 1964 and to be honest I wasn’t that excited but at 2.15 on a
Saturday afternoon there I was, standing outside the Den, we walked in
and he sat me on a barrier on the halfway line, as the teams came out the
crowd all cheered and clapped and I turned to my Dad and said” I wanna
go home I don’t like it” shut up and watch the match was the reply, you
have to remember this was my first ever football match and the crowd and
the noise made me nervous until this old bloke standing next to me offered
me a sweet from the paper bag he was holding, ok maybe this aint so bad
after all. As the game went on I started to get into it and then all of a
sudden everyone was jumping up and down screaming and shouting, we
scored a goal I think I even waved my arms as well, about 20 sweets later
we had won 1-0 and as we was walking home I said” Dad I wanna go
again take me again” we’ll see he said. I was now a Millwall fan.
He never did, about 3 months after we moved to the other side of London
to Ealing a 3 bed family house that my uncle was living in but he was
moving out to start a business in Boston Manor so we moved in, I never
got back to the Den until I was 14, my Dad had a heart attack, he was ok
but he wouldn’t take meso I asked my Mum when I was about 11 I wanna
go to Millwall but she wouldn’t let me travel across London on the tube on
my own “your not mixing with them bloody hooligans” little did she know
what her son would get up to later on in life, at 14 I managed to blag going
to Millwall without her knowing but that’s another story.
Now fast forward to 1992 and I am the proud father of a baby boy dressing
him up in Millwall baby grows and hat and thinking I’m going to take him
to football and get to experience watching Millwall with my son,
something my Dad only did once but as he was growing up he had no
interest in football, he was more into fishing with his mates.
When he was six I took him to Wembley to watch England u21’s play, his
first ever football match but he screamed and cried and we had to leave at
half time, where was that old bloke with the bag of sweets. Despite all my
efforts he would not go to Millwall and to be honest if he was going to act
like how he did at Wembley I was wary of taking him. Then out of the blue
he said to me “I don’t want to support Millwall I want to support someone
else, at this point I had to lay down the law “ok but your supporting a
London team, you was born in London and you live in London and you
ain’t going to be supporting West Ham, Palace or Charlton” no way was I
having his bedroom decked out in claret and blue or palace pics and
posters all over the wall. “I’m going to support Arsenal, my best mate
supports them and they win things, Millwall don’t.” ok fine best you fuck
off to your room then, he was 12.
In 2010 there was a glimmer of hope, Millwall were playing Swindon at
Wembley and I asked him do you want to go with me to Wembley to
watch Millwall in the play off final, he said yeah ok, great tickets bought
and off we went. Walking down Wembley way I remembered the last time
I took him here when he was six and maybe this time if we win he will see
the light and become a Lion, maybe, if we win.
We was near the halfway line right next to the Swindon fans and he was
really enjoying it, seeing him giving dogs abuse to the Swindon lot filled
me with pride and when we scored he was jumping up and down with the
rest of us, this is what it’s all about, this is Millwall. On the way home I
said to him “maybe we can go to Millwall next season you will love it”.
“nah Dad but you can take me to Arsenal if you want. Bastard.
We support who we support for whatever reason, that Wembley game is
probably my greatest memory of watching Millwall, we won and got
promoted and I got to watch it with my son a day I will never forget.
Written by Chris Brown.
That was funny. My Dad was a Lions’ fan, but he didn’t often have the time or money, as he worked at two jobs, to keep his family going. He took me to the old Den when I was a kid, but as we couldn’t see the game, we left. Fast forward to my thirties, and I started going myself, and when I met my future wife, she started coming with me (even though she came from a West Ham area). After we married, we both became season ticket holders in the old Cold Blow Lane end, and once she protected my head from a wayward shot at Kasey Keller’s goal, while we were sitting in the upper tier. We were both season ticket holders at the New Den, in the Barry Kitchener stand, upper tier, but after a few years, she had a heart operation, and was told not to get too excited about anything, so that ended her Millwall appreciation. She had always previously been most vociferous, and after the op that wasn’t possible. I carried on going for some years, until we moved to Suffolk four years ago. Now I am dubious about attending, as with increasing age and lack of exercise, I am rather unsteady on my feet. Maybe one of these days.
Cheers Steve hope your wife is well and doing ok. I’m in Milton Keynes so if you fancy doing Ipswich away i could pick you up and drop you back. If you want.