At the tail end of the 84/85 season Manchester City were struggling for promotion out of the old 2nd division. In the middle of April we were playing Blackburn Rovers with about five games to go in a "must win" situation.
With Blackburn only a few miles up the road City took a massive following of around 10,000 fans. The away end was seriously overcrowded and 100's of Mancunians were just paying into the sections normally reserved for the home fans. The Yelloways lot made our way to the Blackburn end behind the goal. Upon reaching the turnstiles the police were quizzing fans in an attempt to quell the invading Mancs.
"Who's your favourite Rovers player?"
"Simon Garner"
"Okay, you're in"
"Who scored the winner for Rovers against Barnsley?"
"No idea"
"Fuck off back to the City end"
"Where are you from?" one asked me
"Er... Middleton?"
"Okay, you're in"
Fucking result, I thought I was dead lucky until one of the older lads explained that there was a place called Middleton in most northern cities or towns.
Anyway all of our group got in without any problems and we made our way onto the terraces.
The Ewood Park I entered was before Rovers benefitted from Jack Walker millions and was a bit of a dump. In the days before Shearer, Dalgleish and Sherwood Rovers had to make do with the likes of Noel Brotherston and Derek Frazackerly.
The ground was in even worse shape than their sorry team and with City fans in every stand in huge numbers, there were big scuffles occurring all over the place. Fans were getting chucked out by police left, right and centre. We didn't mind a fight but having to pay in twice was not something we fancied.
We walked through the paddock at the side of the pitch and towards the City end, as we were doing so a fan who'd obviously got a bit of a kicking was being lead past us by the St John's Ambulance with a huge bandage around his head. In a voice mimicking the popular Anadin adverts of that era I shouted across the stand at him, "Headache? Tense, Nervous Headache?" he wasn't amused and gave us the "V" sign.
Oh well, it certainly made dozens around us chuckle.
We eventually made it to the away end and stood directly behind the goal.
To the right of the City end we saw Langley village idiot Daft Donald and his kiddie mob emerge from a massive brawl and a huge sway in the crowd, then they were herded up and packed into the away end to a standing ovation.
Then it kicked off big time again in the Blackburn end behind the goal directly opposite from where we were. There was a big parting of the crowd and we could actually make out members of our coach party in the middle of it all in the distance.
After things quelled down we saw somebody being carried around the pitch on a stretcher, doubled up and obviously in agony.
"Fucking hell, it's Colin Wilson" said one of our lot.
"He looks in a real bad way"
I bet he's been stabbed"
***Now these events happened 25 years ago so the following dialogue may or may not be 100% as it was spoken at the time, but you get the general idea***
"Yeah, I bet he's been stabbed, look at him"
"Yeah, he's definitely been fucking stabbed"
"Those fucking Blackburn bastards"
"We're gonna do them after the match"
"Cunts, we'll smash up the town"
"Yeah"
"We'll kill their kids"
"Yeah"
"We'll rape their pets"
"Fuck yeah"
We spent the next 25 minutes plotting a murderous revenge attack on any Blackburn fans after the game and searched out any Yelloways travellers informing them of the plan, everyone was up for it. But just as our outrage was reaching boiling point who should appear holding a pie and pint looking cool as a cucumber and in perfect health but Colin Wilson?
"Fucking hell Colin are you alright?"
"Yeah"
"Did you get stabbed?"
"No"
"Badly beaten?"
"No"
"But we saw you get carried around the pitch in agony"
"Oh that?" he replied, "I had stomach cramps and had to flag down the St John's Ambulance before I shit myself. They took me around to the City changing rooms and let me go in the bog in there. Billy McNeil was giving the half time team talk while I was behind the door farting up a storm. The players were fucking pissing themselves laughing, but Billy didn't look too pleased when I walked out.
I just let on to him and wished them luck for the second half, his face was as red as fuck.
No more dodgy late Friday night curries for me from the Akash lads"
Obviously Colin pebble dashing the visiting teams shitter did the trick, we wondered why City ran out for the second half so quickly. We won the game 1-0 and got promoted at the end of the season at Rovers' expense, were we always fated to go up or was it just bad korma because of the piss taking actions of the Blackburn St John's Ambulance Brigade?
With Blackburn only a few miles up the road City took a massive following of around 10,000 fans. The away end was seriously overcrowded and 100's of Mancunians were just paying into the sections normally reserved for the home fans. The Yelloways lot made our way to the Blackburn end behind the goal. Upon reaching the turnstiles the police were quizzing fans in an attempt to quell the invading Mancs.
"Who's your favourite Rovers player?"
"Simon Garner"
"Okay, you're in"
"Who scored the winner for Rovers against Barnsley?"
"No idea"
"Fuck off back to the City end"
"Where are you from?" one asked me
"Er... Middleton?"
"Okay, you're in"
Fucking result, I thought I was dead lucky until one of the older lads explained that there was a place called Middleton in most northern cities or towns.
Anyway all of our group got in without any problems and we made our way onto the terraces.
The Ewood Park I entered was before Rovers benefitted from Jack Walker millions and was a bit of a dump. In the days before Shearer, Dalgleish and Sherwood Rovers had to make do with the likes of Noel Brotherston and Derek Frazackerly.
The ground was in even worse shape than their sorry team and with City fans in every stand in huge numbers, there were big scuffles occurring all over the place. Fans were getting chucked out by police left, right and centre. We didn't mind a fight but having to pay in twice was not something we fancied.
We walked through the paddock at the side of the pitch and towards the City end, as we were doing so a fan who'd obviously got a bit of a kicking was being lead past us by the St John's Ambulance with a huge bandage around his head. In a voice mimicking the popular Anadin adverts of that era I shouted across the stand at him, "Headache? Tense, Nervous Headache?" he wasn't amused and gave us the "V" sign.
Oh well, it certainly made dozens around us chuckle.
We eventually made it to the away end and stood directly behind the goal.
To the right of the City end we saw Langley village idiot Daft Donald and his kiddie mob emerge from a massive brawl and a huge sway in the crowd, then they were herded up and packed into the away end to a standing ovation.
Then it kicked off big time again in the Blackburn end behind the goal directly opposite from where we were. There was a big parting of the crowd and we could actually make out members of our coach party in the middle of it all in the distance.
After things quelled down we saw somebody being carried around the pitch on a stretcher, doubled up and obviously in agony.
"Fucking hell, it's Colin Wilson" said one of our lot.
"He looks in a real bad way"
I bet he's been stabbed"
***Now these events happened 25 years ago so the following dialogue may or may not be 100% as it was spoken at the time, but you get the general idea***
"Yeah, I bet he's been stabbed, look at him"
"Yeah, he's definitely been fucking stabbed"
"Those fucking Blackburn bastards"
"We're gonna do them after the match"
"Cunts, we'll smash up the town"
"Yeah"
"We'll kill their kids"
"Yeah"
"We'll rape their pets"
"Fuck yeah"
We spent the next 25 minutes plotting a murderous revenge attack on any Blackburn fans after the game and searched out any Yelloways travellers informing them of the plan, everyone was up for it. But just as our outrage was reaching boiling point who should appear holding a pie and pint looking cool as a cucumber and in perfect health but Colin Wilson?
"Fucking hell Colin are you alright?"
"Yeah"
"Did you get stabbed?"
"No"
"Badly beaten?"
"No"
"But we saw you get carried around the pitch in agony"
"Oh that?" he replied, "I had stomach cramps and had to flag down the St John's Ambulance before I shit myself. They took me around to the City changing rooms and let me go in the bog in there. Billy McNeil was giving the half time team talk while I was behind the door farting up a storm. The players were fucking pissing themselves laughing, but Billy didn't look too pleased when I walked out.
I just let on to him and wished them luck for the second half, his face was as red as fuck.
No more dodgy late Friday night curries for me from the Akash lads"
Obviously Colin pebble dashing the visiting teams shitter did the trick, we wondered why City ran out for the second half so quickly. We won the game 1-0 and got promoted at the end of the season at Rovers' expense, were we always fated to go up or was it just bad korma because of the piss taking actions of the Blackburn St John's Ambulance Brigade?
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