I'm So Gwlad

Likes!
Lads, there is a "like button" on each posting, CLICK IT if you like the post. Its daft that I have 52 likes and Eddie Mac only 32. He is the main man here who has gone to great lengths to supply us with the video. I like my likes as I know I have a lot of input into this era but please, click on Eddies films if you like them.

>.......... but if you've been to Hull and back, on a rainy Tuesday night, it sure learns you to appreciate the good times.
Hmmm. I dunno about you but I thought I was the only one who went to Hull and back on the Tuesday night.
As follows.....
We drew 0-0 with Hull on Monday 18th January in the 1982 FA Cup 3rd Round. The replay was 72 hours later on Thursday 21st January - There was a national railstrike announced for Wednesday and Thursday. On the Monday night it turned bitterly cold and a snow blanket swept the country. The snow continued to fall on the Tuesday morning. Not only this, we were banned from all away games and received no tickets. So on the Tuesday morning I went up to Hull by train. By chance I sat with Arthur Scargill on the train (who travelled 2nd class, good man).
When I got to Hull I jumped in a taxi and went to the ground. The taxi driver asked me some questions. We chatted away and I asked him to wait. The tickets were on sale (I had phoned the club in the morning). It was a bitterly cold Tuesday evening with horrible rain and as far as I know I was the only Chelsea fan there. I held out money and got one ticket without having to speak. I put it in my sock and went to another window. There I introduced myself as the President of the Ipswich branch of the Hull City's supporters' club. I got 82 tickets, paid cash and turned to go back to my taxi. The taxi driver was standing behind me. We went back to the cab. Now he started getting very personal. He said he was on to me as a Chelsea fan and that he knew I was from London and that Chelsea were banned. I maintained I was from Ipswich and that there was a team of builders from Hull working on a building site plus som Hull dockers in Felixstowe who were coming up for the Chelsea game. As I was about to get out at Hull he asked to see my train ticket to prove I had come from Ipswich. I said I had travelled via London. I got out the cab, paid the fare, gave a tip and walked into the station.
I had about 30 minute till the last train out of Hull. The last train to move anywhere for 3 days as the train strike was to go ahead. I phoned a few people from the telephone booth to tell them of my success. Cathy, Matt, Terry Last and a few more. I took a few orders and I told them what time I would be back in London. Then I saw the taxi driver with a policeman walking through the station. I hung up and ducked back out of the rear of the station. I crossed the road and hid by a burger bar in the shadows. I was panicking. I hid 60 tickets in the lining of my jacket. I thought if I get stopped I can hand over 20 and say that's all I have. As we were banned I was actually not allowed to have those tickets and I'd bought them under a false pretext. I was unsure of the legal status in British law but I didn't want to find out. If a policeman decided to take the tickets away he his going to do that.
I waited till there was a minute left for my train. I ran full pelt into the station, I already knew the platform and where the gate was. I sprinted at it holding my rail ticket out. This was the last train to roll in the UK for 3 days. The guard held the gate open and shouted "run". The train started to move. I opened the door - lots of practice from my London commute after oversleeping and nearly missing trains in the morning rush hour - and jumped in. Made it. Success! - But - The train stopped. My heart raced. Had the policeman been there and flagged the train down having seen me? Before I could move the door opened again. I prepared to hand-over 20 tickets to the police in the hope I could keep the rest. A young lass in got in and smiled. They had held the train for her. The train pulled out of Hull. I was in the clear. Chelsea mission accomplished for the lads back home. I don't know if the police were still around or what they would have done. Didn't matter at the time. With 83 tickets on me I had pulled it off. Having travelled behind enemy lines and pulled off a covert action I allowed myself a beer or two on the mainline connecting train from Doncaster. I fell asleep.
Arriving back at Kings Cross at 10 to 1 I jumped off the train and started the walk towards the gates. Then I heard a familiar sound. "He's a boy, He's a boy, He's a boy, He's a boy." It was my reception committee; Terry Last, Wayne and boys from around the home counties. I done my orders and we had a coffee in the all nighter outside the station. Someone - Fuzzy Wayne, I think said "You can't ban a Chelsea fan" - I am unsure if that was ever said before but a week later badges and tee-shirts appeared. Not that I lay claim to any credit for it but my mission epitomises the phrase even if it was not coined that night. I went back to Kent by night bus to Bromley and then a 4 mile walk. Arriving home at 4-30 in the morning in a rural Kent completely covered in snow.
Wednesday I was on the morning bus at 7 and with a couple of changes got to work in the city about 9.30. Met up with Cathy, she got her quota of tickets. These late nights and early mornings were helped by the Original Lucozade. (Thank God for that drink). After work I did 2 buses over to Fulham and then Wandsworth. Sold my tickets in the usual Chelsea hotspots, York Tavern being my last port of call. Tweeky had also got hold of a few so most of the lads in there had them. Then back to Kent via 4 buses. Home around midnight. Up at 5 and on the morning bus up town. 2 buses to Charing Cross and the tube to Victoria and then the National Express Coach Station. Met up with Cathy, Matt and other mates. Sold a few more tickets. Made sure everyone had one. We changed in Sheffield and went for a beer there. Arriving in Hull in the evening. I met Kenny Salford and a few others and done my last tickets. In the ground.
This was in spite of - a ban - a snowstorm - a trainstrike - poor team performances - 72 hour notice of a game - subzero temp - a belief by many that the game would not be played. In contrast I saw Chelsea fans leaving the ground on TV today when Man Utd scored their 3rd in the 3-3 draw. Don't they realise if they are going to support Chelsea then that's what they should be doing. SUPPORT.
What does Support mean?
1. To bear the weight of, especially from below.
2. To hold in position so as to keep from falling, sinking, or slipping.
3. To be capable of bearing; withstand:
And these fans are none of that. They do not have the right to hold a Chelsea flag or wear a Chelsea shirt. That right has to be earned. The way we earned it in days gone by. I have now decided to write my book. These last few days have convinced me. There is a story that must be told. Supporting Chelsea is a chore and a privilege. When the team need it and are suffering your support is most needed. When they bang goals in its nice for you to be able to jump around like a moron for a few minutes but you can not just take the cherries out of the cake. You have to get behind the team when they are playing bad and making mistakes. Show them love. Show them understanding and guide them to great honour. In short - Be there for them!
So what of that rainy night in Hull? We won 2-0. And we went on to reach our only cup q/f between 1972 and 1992.
I had to double check this.
> .......... but if you've been to Hull and back, on a rainy Tuesday night, it sure learns you to appreciate the good times.
Maybe I stand corrected. I thought you were referring to 1982. (When I was the only one there on the Tuesday to buy tickets - with the game being played on a Thursday).
However I see that these games were also played on Tuesday nights in Hull:
8th November 1975 drew 1-1
25th October 1988 lost 3-0
So, maybe the above posting I just wrote was uncessary after all?
Cheers for now.....
PS
Any upload of Chelsea Soton 1977 when we lost 3-0 at the Bridge coming?

Yes the football was very very good. They entertained us. With the rub of the green this team would have gone from strength to strength. You may remember Bolton collapsed at the end of 76-77 and let Forest in. Here is a "What If". What if "WE" had collapsed instead? Think what another year in the 2nd might have done for this team. Eddie Mac would have stayed and the young team would have had another year to train, gel and blend. We might have just gone on to be the team of the decade in the 80's. It wasn't to be of course. But seeing many of these games again for the first time since they were played brings it all back. I even remember my home journey to Petts Wood. Fulham Broadway about 5 pm and arrive at Victoria for the 5.42. Back home about 20 past six in time for me mum's 2 giant sausage rolls with chips and beans. Saturday Night in front of the TV, Generation Game, The Cilla Black Show, The Sweeney and then "Match of The Day" at 10 pm. Sunday mornings over the park with the local lads. Roughly ten-a-side with jackets as goalposts. First to ten won. A litlte chat about the football and then back to Sunday joint and "The Big Match".
But throughout this era there was an underlying dream. Not of Premier league and foriegn players and sitting in stadiums with people claiming to support Chelsea who didn't really give a toss. Not even of winning the First Division. And not (God given the chance) to take the end at West Ham or Millwall and run their home fans rugged. No; the dream of these days was to stand at Wembley with my father who came from Roehampton and had bought me up on Chelsea. I wanted and dreamed of us standing there at the Tunnel End side by side. Year after year throughout the 70's this dream was shattered. But each year come January I believed, I yearned and I prayed. Just to stand there at Wembley. I used to think of the lyrics in "If I were a rich man" and my version was "Would it spoil same vast incredible plan if we made the cup final?". It was ALL I wanted. One day, I thought, one day, we could be there, the Chelsea manager would lead the team out, 11 Chelsea men would follow proudly out onto Wembley's hallowed turf. We'd cheer, we'd sing and we'd smile at each other. To see 11 blue heros at Wembley in May. The band would pick their instruments. The crowd would fall silent. Then building up slowly we'd sing, we'd sing:
ABIDE WITH ME; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, ABIDE WITH ME.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see—
O Thou who changest not, ABIDE WITH ME.
I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s pow’r?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, ABIDE WITH ME.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou ABIDE WITH ME.
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;
Heav’n’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, ABIDE WITH ME.
Each year it seemed possible. I remember dancing with my father in the Shed End when Langley banged that 3rd one in against Liverpool on 7th January 1978. We were leading 3-0, Liverpool were the Gods of football and European Champions (read World Champions) which meant anything was possible. That dream, as all others, died at home to lowly Orient on 27th Feb (3 days after my father's 50th). Two years later it was Wigan at home on 14th January, we lost 1-0 having just slaughtered Newcastle 4-0 in the league 2 days previously. Well there's always next year! Always! Always? - Tragically it was not to be. The day after Preston away in April my father died suddenly and unexpectedly on 13th April. I was 18. The dream was over. (Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away) Never would we and never could we stand together at Wembley and sing Abide With Me. I continued on flying the flag and didn't miss a match home or away for a few more years. But I could not take it any more living so close with so much pain. I emigrated to Sweden and have lived here ever since.
If you have not lived through these days I fail to see where any genuine Chelsea passion can come from. Eddie Mac's videos have bought it all back. I have relived these moments again for the first time since these games were played. I have the knowledge that in many of these games I was there with my Dad - in the Shed. Oh for the Carefree days of innocent youth and childhood dreams. Abide with me boys, abide with me and my dreams of what might have been. I have shed many tears in these last few days looking at footage I had never even considered the possibilty of seeing again. Abide with me - but it's taken an outer shell off of me and cut to the bone of genuine feelings of love and..... and nothing, genuine feelings of love. That suffices.
In love and in life abiding with all feelings, all defeats, all victories for those alive and those blue fans who now stand proudly in the Shed End in the sky - We'll meet again! - And Dad - get me a bag of Monkey Nuts at half-time will you?