colenall funch
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Hey folks, first time poster, long-time reader and CFC since '68 (when I was born into a CFC family). This topic hits home because I spent a large part of my childhood away from UK, in the caribbean, and was therefore brought up in a much more sensitive-to-racism environment. Well, let's just say, as a white kid, I was a minority so out-and-out prejudice towards somebody of colour was not even something my little mind was instructed on since I played with kids of all different creeds (the Carib'n is full of mixes... you even get Chinese people talking patois) and therefore heard my first racist comment in my life when I was about 10 or so after living in UK for 3 years. The island I grew up on has a national hero in that he was one of the first black professionals to have made it the Football League and we were all proud of him: such was the atmosphere I grew up in as far as appreciation for black players goes... So I get to the UK (while my dad forever remained in the Sunshine Isles) and eventually I'm a socialized Londoner... my accent gets beaten out of me, bullying on the schoolground is just about the way it goes. In character, most people saw me as a freaky curiosity so I didn't get beaten up to much, but I did stick up for the other black kids. Which is funny, because later on once we became friends, they black kids told me their first impression of me was that I was right real SUCK UP (which was almost as bad as being accused a snitch)... ok so I got through becoming a regular-style South West Londoner being around my older brothers (who had not gone to live in Carib for several phases like me) and another major Londonization in me came from going down the Football. I'd go the Shed, started just as the '86-'87 season finished but I would have to say my first full season was 87-88. I went to pretty much every match at home and at least ten or twelve away matches during that relegation year just to give you a bit of background. (I went with my older bruffa who stand with his mates elsewhere or even sit in the East Stand (!)) So much of my time joining in the songs and learning the ropes was spent alone in the mosh of the Shed, pretty confident nothing bad would ever happen. And hilarious because I went to a lot of matches where trouble was reported yet hadn't heard a thing.
But one thing I did hear was racist chants, and of all the things I would join in on, this one was the strangest and most alien to me (trust me, as a teen i was full of aggro and yelled blue-bloody-murder like the rest of them. I was also EXTREMELY LAZY so apologies to the Crew and Firms for not joining in the fighting... I wouldn't have been much help anyway... I got chased by Middlesbrough fans along the Brompton Road a couple of hours before the relegation rip off in '87. I was just walking alone, no colours... mindin' my own bizness. They yelled out of their windows 'poofter' or something and I ignored them. Next thing I hear is the "Crunch-crunch crunch-crunch crunch-crunch" of the car doors opening and shutting and soon there were three of them. One with a knife. Sorry lads for not standing my ground, but one bit of athleticism I can be proud of is I am extremely FAST over 20 yards, it's my most offensive weapon should you need me to catch your daughters' handbag snatcher. In this case I used it in defense and was soon losing the fat gits within twenty paces and could just cat call them all sorts ugly crap knowing their car was double parked and there was NO WAY the fat lumps could ever catch up to me... HOWEVER, back to racism and any isms. I really can say it was weird to hear 'There's on one p@ki copper" or the 'N' word or the monkey sounds. I didn't know what to do. I certainly was going to start saying to the blokes around me to STFU. My only way out was to stand somewhere else. So I would. But the humour and the banter and the aggro and the charm and the history and the spirit and the omnipresent excitement that danger could kick off at any moment kept drawing me back to the Middle of the Shed. I was once at Highbury, that night we lost 0-3 in winter weeknight play... and a bunch of whackos were lighting fires with bundles of the Evening Standard on the terraces of the Clock End. I sort of stamped the fire out near me (but didn't boss them around or tell them what to do, just didn't want to get burnt myself). Once this gang realized I was stamping it out near me, it egged them on to really make it happen. (We were 0-3 down and what else was there to sing about?) So I stamped the fire out near me again and this time sort of mouthed it up about how this was kind of how the Bradford fire started (we were pre-Hilsborough) I was told to shut it and "Go stand with those arsenal 'f@ggots' if I din't like it' and basically figured, yeah, they were right. The Clock End won't burn down and I squeezed to another place in the crowd. I remember groping my way through the dark to the Tube while the cops were yelling at people to 'STOP RUNNING'... It was the only time ever thought I put myself in danger by going alone to a football match--basically by opening my mouth. So the racism has died down like a major campaign to stop smoking. I wish for those old days to be shared by the young, to know the amazing loss of ego that would occur as grown men and strangers danced in ludicrous loss of all control at the point of a goal going in... and having the wit to match every event on the pitch: this was what the Shed End was about. In fact, if you 'saw' what was happening, you were doing it wrong. But if you yelled out some racist crap, well you made me feel sad at your ignorance and how much the people on the island I grew up on admire English Football and talk about it as if it might be inclusive. And then there was the homophobic stuff too. I'm not homophobic at all, but gee, I gotta say I helped make songs about Elton John and Ron Atkinson and stuff like that... and yet I know in my heart I am not homophobic, and if it were to happen to day, I would not join in. So that's to say in the same way you couldn't believe the changes that have occured in the last two decades like not being able to smoke on the top deck of the 24 bus to Pimlico anymore... and the tolerance for shouting ludicrous ignorance is to be welcomed. I would plead, despite all that trash talk, some of the most humourous timeS I've ever had in my life (AND I LOVE HUMOUR, COMEDY LAUGHTER, IN FACT I hunt it for a living) were had standing in the rain at say, Notts Forest or Palace... and some quick spark ignites the crowd to respond to what's happening on the pitch, or elsewhere in the ground and that unifying theory of life is suddenly driving through your veins... and it doesn't matter any more...any of it... coz you're no longer thinking. Your living, breathing, jumping and dancing Chesea
But one thing I did hear was racist chants, and of all the things I would join in on, this one was the strangest and most alien to me (trust me, as a teen i was full of aggro and yelled blue-bloody-murder like the rest of them. I was also EXTREMELY LAZY so apologies to the Crew and Firms for not joining in the fighting... I wouldn't have been much help anyway... I got chased by Middlesbrough fans along the Brompton Road a couple of hours before the relegation rip off in '87. I was just walking alone, no colours... mindin' my own bizness. They yelled out of their windows 'poofter' or something and I ignored them. Next thing I hear is the "Crunch-crunch crunch-crunch crunch-crunch" of the car doors opening and shutting and soon there were three of them. One with a knife. Sorry lads for not standing my ground, but one bit of athleticism I can be proud of is I am extremely FAST over 20 yards, it's my most offensive weapon should you need me to catch your daughters' handbag snatcher. In this case I used it in defense and was soon losing the fat gits within twenty paces and could just cat call them all sorts ugly crap knowing their car was double parked and there was NO WAY the fat lumps could ever catch up to me... HOWEVER, back to racism and any isms. I really can say it was weird to hear 'There's on one p@ki copper" or the 'N' word or the monkey sounds. I didn't know what to do. I certainly was going to start saying to the blokes around me to STFU. My only way out was to stand somewhere else. So I would. But the humour and the banter and the aggro and the charm and the history and the spirit and the omnipresent excitement that danger could kick off at any moment kept drawing me back to the Middle of the Shed. I was once at Highbury, that night we lost 0-3 in winter weeknight play... and a bunch of whackos were lighting fires with bundles of the Evening Standard on the terraces of the Clock End. I sort of stamped the fire out near me (but didn't boss them around or tell them what to do, just didn't want to get burnt myself). Once this gang realized I was stamping it out near me, it egged them on to really make it happen. (We were 0-3 down and what else was there to sing about?) So I stamped the fire out near me again and this time sort of mouthed it up about how this was kind of how the Bradford fire started (we were pre-Hilsborough) I was told to shut it and "Go stand with those arsenal 'f@ggots' if I din't like it' and basically figured, yeah, they were right. The Clock End won't burn down and I squeezed to another place in the crowd. I remember groping my way through the dark to the Tube while the cops were yelling at people to 'STOP RUNNING'... It was the only time ever thought I put myself in danger by going alone to a football match--basically by opening my mouth. So the racism has died down like a major campaign to stop smoking. I wish for those old days to be shared by the young, to know the amazing loss of ego that would occur as grown men and strangers danced in ludicrous loss of all control at the point of a goal going in... and having the wit to match every event on the pitch: this was what the Shed End was about. In fact, if you 'saw' what was happening, you were doing it wrong. But if you yelled out some racist crap, well you made me feel sad at your ignorance and how much the people on the island I grew up on admire English Football and talk about it as if it might be inclusive. And then there was the homophobic stuff too. I'm not homophobic at all, but gee, I gotta say I helped make songs about Elton John and Ron Atkinson and stuff like that... and yet I know in my heart I am not homophobic, and if it were to happen to day, I would not join in. So that's to say in the same way you couldn't believe the changes that have occured in the last two decades like not being able to smoke on the top deck of the 24 bus to Pimlico anymore... and the tolerance for shouting ludicrous ignorance is to be welcomed. I would plead, despite all that trash talk, some of the most humourous timeS I've ever had in my life (AND I LOVE HUMOUR, COMEDY LAUGHTER, IN FACT I hunt it for a living) were had standing in the rain at say, Notts Forest or Palace... and some quick spark ignites the crowd to respond to what's happening on the pitch, or elsewhere in the ground and that unifying theory of life is suddenly driving through your veins... and it doesn't matter any more...any of it... coz you're no longer thinking. Your living, breathing, jumping and dancing Chesea
