Ok. First thing to say is that you can't have a full understanding of what it was like in those days unless you were there. Going to away games was often a dangerous occupation. So it's not so much that "other people did it" is an excuse but that sticking together was a matter of safety and survival. I've been caught on my own a few times, not least at White Hart Lane (not the game I wrote about elsewhere but another occasion, details of which I don't currently wish to go into). Let's just say I was very very lucky to get home in one piece. And that was a common enough experience.
There was a racist element undeniably, but this was a societal problem. Just as there were racist policemen, racist landlords, racist employers, racism was far more widespread back then. Is this a justification? No of course it's not. Despite what Thatcher and her sycophants would have had you believe, football supporters were a part of society and as such would have reflected that society.
Dark days? Sorry I have to disagree with you again. Imagine the situation. You're a young lad, in your teens or early twenties, going to an strange town every other weekend. You look forward, not only to the match, but to the events surrounding the match, with anticipation. And no wonder, there was an incredible sense of adventure about going away. I'm not talking solely about the violence here by any means. Violence was something that happened, in some ways it was incidental, sometimes unavoidable. More so it about having the craic. Having a laugh with your mates is what it was all about. Maybe you'd meet a girl, stay for a night out, even the weekend.
There were a few dark days to be sure, but the same could be said of any walk of life. Highs and lows, it's what happens. But when I look back, even without the rose blue tint of nostalgia, I can honestly say that overall I had a bloody fantastic time.