Born Without a Name Part Five
By Robbie Ashcroft April 5 2008
Friday night was “WISPA” night, the WISPA was a local club in Litherland, it was dead handy to get too and a great place to go too. We all met up in the Nethy and walked up to the club. The place was bouncing every man and his dog was in here getting some drinking practice for the next day.
By Robbie Ashcroft April 5 2008
Friday night was “WISPA” night, the WISPA was a local club in Litherland, it was dead handy to get too and a great place to go too. We all met up in the Nethy and walked up to the club. The place was bouncing every man and his dog was in here getting some drinking practice for the next day.
Can’t remember what I had too drink, but I remember I was stone cold sober, I was far too excited thinking about the Cup Final.
Next day, we made our way to Lime Street, flags and scarf’s hanging out from the top deck of the bus, singing our heads off like there was no tomorrow. Lime Street was choker block full of suitably attired Koppites, everyone seemed to be well up for this one.
The journey to Wembley seemed to take an age, we took some cans of ale with us but these didn’t calm us down in the slightest, we where all to excited. The twin towers of Wembley were sighted on our left the people on our train went absolutely ballistic, your ears just ached with the noise we all made.
Wembley Way was very special, all manner of people in every conceivable state of drunkenness Red and White and Black and White mixed together all singing all dancing all excited at being at Wembley. The ground was a dump, what a letdown, grotty railings between the car parks and the concourse had rubbish everywhere on it.
I confess at that time I had no idea where Newcastle was and had no idea what Geordies sounded like? I couldn’t understand a word they said.
The Geordies we bumped into were great people we just seemed to get on with each other, “Howay the Lads” they sang at us “No way the Lads” we boomed back. “Super Mac” they retorted to us, in a flash “Super Mouth” was spat right back at them. They sang the “Blaydon Races” we came right back at them with our own special version.
Oh me lads we're never off the tele
We hate the fucking coppers
Cos they murdered Jimmy Kelly
United are the bastards
City are the runners
And when we get to Highbury
We'll kick fuck out of the Gunners
Newcastle Brown it has to be a winner
Twenty five pints on a Saturday night
And twelve for Sunday dinner
We taught the Geordies how to sing
We taught them how to sup
But most of all we taught them
How to lift the FA Cup
Around the ground were various huge trees, those without tickets climbed up them and straddled planks of wood across to the windows in the stairways, (thirty or forty feet above ground level) hundreds of supporters got in for nothing this way. Others tied flags and or scarfs together and climbed up, whilst their mates held on the other end.
This was the first game I saw “scouse snakes” out in large numbers, these were streetwise lads who mingled in with the crowd and snatched tickets from unwary supporters. My ticket stayed very safely in my pocket gripped by my hand.
Once inside (after the two turnstiles) Wembley exposed itself in all its glory, an open expanse with a sea of red and white and black and white at each end. “God Save our Gracious Queen” the tannoy system blasted out, “God Save our Gracious Team” boomed out from the travelling Kop.
Then minutes before the kick-off, one of the best ever versions of “You’ll never walk alone” was rendered to the unsuspecting Geordies and millions of television viewers. It was sung very slowly, sang correctly, and sang from the heart.
During the week prior to the final, all we got in the papers was how “Super Mac” Malcolm Macdonald was going to destroy us and win the Cup for Newcastle, yes even then a lot of the press were anti-Liverpool its not a new thing?
We had our very own “secret weapon” to combat “mighty mouth” Macdonald, a certain young local lad with big blonde curly hair and sparrow like legs, Phil Thompson.
The first half was a stalemate as both teams prodded each other trying to find a weakness, “Super Mouth” Macdonald had one half chance which he ballooned very high into the jeering travelling masses from Liverpool. The second half was a different kettle of fish, Shanks and the backroom boys certainly made sure we were up for it. We came out and tore Newcastle United apart in what is generally accepted as one of the finest footballing displays ever witnessed in any Cup Final. Poor old Alec Lindsay, scored one of the best ever goals seen by mankind, only for it to be ruled offside by the referee.
The final whistle was blown and the biggest atomic bomb ever went off. I swear the noise from the travelling koppites could have been heard halfway around the Earth, it was out of this world.
Everyone went ape, grown men hugged grown men, everyone grabbed anyone like a long lost friend the place was buzzing. With hindsight I think this is where the punks first saw “The pogo” the place was jumping, we had won the FA Cup again?
The history books say “Liverpool 3 Newcastle United 0” but in fact the real score line was Liverpool 4 Newcastle United 0. They forget to mention the “goal” the Spion Kop achieved in out singing the Geordies, the twelfth man? Had yet again played its part in full.
Once outside the ground we walked back to Wembley Central, everyone was having a ball, it was party time “BIG TIME” people were singing and dancing in the streets giving each other piggybacks rides, just going mental?
The Geordies on the other hand slowly and quietly walked single file devastated back to their train platform, then one of the most memorable things I have ever witnessed in all my years of following the Tricky Reds occurred. The Newcastle United supporters started throwing their scarves around us and shaking our hands, even hugging us, I still have my Liverpool silk scarf, red beret and a Newcastle United scarf from this game they remain amongst my many treasured Liverpool possessions.
The trip home was one long singsong with many conga lines going backwards and forwards right along the full length of our train. Lime Street was awash with red and white, as wives, girlfriends, mums, dads, aunts, uncles, sons and daughters waited for the Spion Kops return home.
No body could have imagined what was in store for us in the years ahead, nobody cared about tomorrow, This was a very special moment for the thousands and thousands of Liverpool supporters from that era and indeed a special moment in the history of our beloved Liverpool Football Club.
Next day, we made our way to Lime Street, flags and scarf’s hanging out from the top deck of the bus, singing our heads off like there was no tomorrow. Lime Street was choker block full of suitably attired Koppites, everyone seemed to be well up for this one.
The journey to Wembley seemed to take an age, we took some cans of ale with us but these didn’t calm us down in the slightest, we where all to excited. The twin towers of Wembley were sighted on our left the people on our train went absolutely ballistic, your ears just ached with the noise we all made.
Wembley Way was very special, all manner of people in every conceivable state of drunkenness Red and White and Black and White mixed together all singing all dancing all excited at being at Wembley. The ground was a dump, what a letdown, grotty railings between the car parks and the concourse had rubbish everywhere on it.
I confess at that time I had no idea where Newcastle was and had no idea what Geordies sounded like? I couldn’t understand a word they said.
The Geordies we bumped into were great people we just seemed to get on with each other, “Howay the Lads” they sang at us “No way the Lads” we boomed back. “Super Mac” they retorted to us, in a flash “Super Mouth” was spat right back at them. They sang the “Blaydon Races” we came right back at them with our own special version.
Oh me lads we're never off the tele
We hate the fucking coppers
Cos they murdered Jimmy Kelly
United are the bastards
City are the runners
And when we get to Highbury
We'll kick fuck out of the Gunners
Newcastle Brown it has to be a winner
Twenty five pints on a Saturday night
And twelve for Sunday dinner
We taught the Geordies how to sing
We taught them how to sup
But most of all we taught them
How to lift the FA Cup
Around the ground were various huge trees, those without tickets climbed up them and straddled planks of wood across to the windows in the stairways, (thirty or forty feet above ground level) hundreds of supporters got in for nothing this way. Others tied flags and or scarfs together and climbed up, whilst their mates held on the other end.
This was the first game I saw “scouse snakes” out in large numbers, these were streetwise lads who mingled in with the crowd and snatched tickets from unwary supporters. My ticket stayed very safely in my pocket gripped by my hand.
Once inside (after the two turnstiles) Wembley exposed itself in all its glory, an open expanse with a sea of red and white and black and white at each end. “God Save our Gracious Queen” the tannoy system blasted out, “God Save our Gracious Team” boomed out from the travelling Kop.
Then minutes before the kick-off, one of the best ever versions of “You’ll never walk alone” was rendered to the unsuspecting Geordies and millions of television viewers. It was sung very slowly, sang correctly, and sang from the heart.
During the week prior to the final, all we got in the papers was how “Super Mac” Malcolm Macdonald was going to destroy us and win the Cup for Newcastle, yes even then a lot of the press were anti-Liverpool its not a new thing?
We had our very own “secret weapon” to combat “mighty mouth” Macdonald, a certain young local lad with big blonde curly hair and sparrow like legs, Phil Thompson.
The first half was a stalemate as both teams prodded each other trying to find a weakness, “Super Mouth” Macdonald had one half chance which he ballooned very high into the jeering travelling masses from Liverpool. The second half was a different kettle of fish, Shanks and the backroom boys certainly made sure we were up for it. We came out and tore Newcastle United apart in what is generally accepted as one of the finest footballing displays ever witnessed in any Cup Final. Poor old Alec Lindsay, scored one of the best ever goals seen by mankind, only for it to be ruled offside by the referee.
The final whistle was blown and the biggest atomic bomb ever went off. I swear the noise from the travelling koppites could have been heard halfway around the Earth, it was out of this world.
Everyone went ape, grown men hugged grown men, everyone grabbed anyone like a long lost friend the place was buzzing. With hindsight I think this is where the punks first saw “The pogo” the place was jumping, we had won the FA Cup again?
The history books say “Liverpool 3 Newcastle United 0” but in fact the real score line was Liverpool 4 Newcastle United 0. They forget to mention the “goal” the Spion Kop achieved in out singing the Geordies, the twelfth man? Had yet again played its part in full.
Once outside the ground we walked back to Wembley Central, everyone was having a ball, it was party time “BIG TIME” people were singing and dancing in the streets giving each other piggybacks rides, just going mental?
The Geordies on the other hand slowly and quietly walked single file devastated back to their train platform, then one of the most memorable things I have ever witnessed in all my years of following the Tricky Reds occurred. The Newcastle United supporters started throwing their scarves around us and shaking our hands, even hugging us, I still have my Liverpool silk scarf, red beret and a Newcastle United scarf from this game they remain amongst my many treasured Liverpool possessions.
The trip home was one long singsong with many conga lines going backwards and forwards right along the full length of our train. Lime Street was awash with red and white, as wives, girlfriends, mums, dads, aunts, uncles, sons and daughters waited for the Spion Kops return home.
No body could have imagined what was in store for us in the years ahead, nobody cared about tomorrow, This was a very special moment for the thousands and thousands of Liverpool supporters from that era and indeed a special moment in the history of our beloved Liverpool Football Club.
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StumbleuponRe: Born Without a Name Part Five
Posted by: Waspy (IP Logged)
Date: 2008:04:06:20:14:02
Outstanding reading, well worth taking time to read that all
thanks to Robbie...
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2008:04:06:21:24:12 by Waspy.
thanks to Robbie...
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2008:04:06:21:24:12 by Waspy.
Re: Born Without a Name Part Five
Posted by: carra (IP Logged)
Date: 2008:04:06:21:03:50
Well in Robbie lad, your a bit older than me but think we all had the same rights of passage to go on the KOP .Claiming your peice of barrier hours before the ko ,learning how to avoid the barriers in front in a surge.Nothing will ever replace the standing kop we were just lucky to be around at that time.You forget as well as kids we actually seen buuuger all of the game , all the dockers ,working men would fall out the pubs at ko and barge their way in .The place reaked of the pungent smell of brown bitter n ciggies.Great memories ,by the way always make salmon butties for me away trips brings me luck.Red of course
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