by Twizzle » Sat Mar 09, 2013 2:47 am
My dad was a Thirds supporter and took me to see them most Saturday afternoons. The custom then was to lift your kids over the turnstiles, and I enjoyed this ritual. I can't remember what he paid for himself to get in. The terraces were full of men, and they all seemed to be wearing the same raincoats. Broken buttons and broken teeth spring to mind, along with a lot of coarse shouting. The raincoat thing was a real pain for me when dad sent me to get two cups of bovril (no pies for us....) at half time - it was easy to find the bovril stand, but try to find your own dad in a sea of men all dressed the same! The isles weren't numbered, so it was really easy to get lost.
The terraces were covered in compacted ash and on a dry day I hated it when Thirds scored - all the men started jumping up and down, and the dust was choking - it was all very well for them at five or six feet, but I was down around knee height in the thick of it. Once after a match, when we went back to dad's car, he realised he had left his key on the inside, and had locked us out. To save a half fare, he left me "standing guard" by the car while he took the 105 trolleybus home to get a spare key, then came back some hours later. I don't think many people would do that nowadays.