Trentside Tales - Nottingham Forest F.C & Notts CCC
- Neil Harrison
My Forest & Notts/England Cricket Tales (Reflecting on just a few 'Amusing' Moments from time
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I think the best way for me to do these is completely randomly and adding to them from time to time. I hope they are at least mildly amusing, they will be absolutely true but there is of course the danger of 'you really needed to be there!' So hopefully I won't bore you.
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12/2/80 - Liverpool v Nottm Forest at Anfield - League Cup Semi-Final 2nd Leg
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​I'll first set the scene. In the 1st leg in Nottingham on 22nd Jan, Forest had beaten Liverpool 1-0 with a late John Robertson penalty. We had also, over the previous 2 seasons, certainly had the better of them in a variety of competitions and as a result of Forest, they were no longer dominating English football, at least for this short 3 year period. In short, their players and fans hated us & in all honesty we couldn't stand them either.
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In the previous season also, a number of Forest coaches had been smashed when we tipped them out the European Cup. They were not good losers.
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Anyhow, upon arriving in Liverpool, there was definitely a tension in the air in more ways than one. Whilst queuing up at the away turnstiles, everyone was being searched and it did not go down all that well with one of the Police Constables picked up a chissel that some bright spark had chosen to drop on the floor on the basis that they were likely to be searched.
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If anyone has ever stood on the old Anfield Road end at Liverpool, you will know that the segregation between home and away fans was not all that adequate. It wasn't very high & it wasn't really what I would call a 'fence' at all. Anyhow plenty of objects were hurled both ways throughout the game and certainly all sorts of, lets call it 'banter'!
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It does make me laugh when television type people used to comment how sporting the Liverpool fans were and how friendly Anfield was to go to even as an away fan. Well, all I can say is that was never my experience, certainly in the late 70's and most of the 1980's. It definitely changed after the Hillsborough disaster mind.
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Anyway back to the game and a John Robertson penalty gives us a lead on 23 mins and we know they are not gong to come back from that. Their fans know it too and dispose of their loose change. They do get an equaliser on 89 mins on the night but we are through to Wembley again, and they don't like it... again.
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It's mayhem outside. The police decide not to hold the away fans back. Soon there are running battles in the streets & police sirens going off all over the place.
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By now, we have all got split up, just leaves me and my brother. Do we go the long way round or do we cut across Stanley 'Knife' Park? We go for the latter ... big mistake!
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Now, like others, I had heard all the stories that a favourite trick of Liverpool fans was to 'ask you the time' ... Even by the age of 19, which I was at this point, I knew that not everything that people said happened actually 'did' happen in reality, and indeed it had not happened to me before. I figured it was a load of bollocks... perhaps!
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Half way across a pitch black Stanley Park, some Scouse Scally approaches us and asks us the time! I whisper to my brother, 4 years my junior, let's f****** leg it. He stops and impersonates a scouse accent and say's "I dunno mate" .... Scouse replies "Eh where are you from?" ... Antony responds "Liverpool" ... I say a bit louder "f****** run" ... Scouser says "you lying c***" ... Antony says "honest -Birkenhead" ... By this time, many more Scouses have stopped to see what's going on ... I've decided that receiving a severe kicking will be better than going home and telling Mum & Dad, I left Antony in Stanley Park and in all honesty I never would have gone without him.
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Miraculously, he pulls it off, which is just as well as one of us (I think me) has a huge Nottm Forest flag underneath my jacket.
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We make it 'safely' to the street where all the dozens of Forest coaches are parked. At least one has already had it's windows broken, just to add to the ambiance of a lovely night on Merseyside.
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Our coach is not where it was when we got off so we wander up the street and then back down it with scuffles and sporadic fighting still breaking out all over the place. We eventually see our coach, just as someone must have clocked we were struggling to locate it and I get a nasty boot on my knee ...but it doesn't stop me remaining upright & 'diving' on the coach.
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It's fair to say a bit of adrenalin flowing and we can now dish out plenty of gob etc from the safety of the coach and laugh about the previous 20 mins or so.
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You may think the story ends there but...erm... No! Plenty of miles outside Liverpool we pull in at a motorway service station. 5 or 10 mins later a coach load of Liverpool fans, going back to (from memory) Milton Keynes of all places, pulls in and before you know it's chaos, carnage and mayhem. The police arrive, arrest a couple of people off our coach before we finally head on our merry way.
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1 week later, we played them again...at Anfield, this time in the league, a game we lost 2-0.
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Our 1981 FACup run also brought with it a few mildy amusing moments. After a 3-3 draw in the 3rd Round against Bolton, we headed for the replay 3 days later. I managed to get home early from work (in Nottm) & we set off from Newark about 5.45pm. It was cutting it fine if we would make kick off but what did not help is that as we were looking for somewhere to park, we headed up a one way street ... in the wrong direction!
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It was only a few seconds before we had blue lights in front and behind us & when the Officer made a saracstic remark in a question he asked us, the answer he was not looking for was "yeah, we come this way every week" ... He proceeded to then take quite a while to check the driver's (my old friend Martin Smith) details. We eventually got into the ground about 5 or 10 mins before half time. The first thing that happened was a horrible challenge on one of our players ... a torrent of abuse followed form some or all of our mouths which caused our 2nd bollocking of the night from the 'boys in blue', who threatened to eject us!
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Fortunately, we won 1-0 in extra time thanks to a Trevor Francis goal. That set up a 4th Round tie with Man Utd at the CG in front of a packed 34,110, which we won 1-0, the day before my 20th birthday, again courtesy of a Trevor Francis goal. In the 5th Round we beat Bristol City 2-1 also at the CG so we would play Ipswich at home in the Quarter-Final. That was a classic 3-3 draw in front of 34,796. Sadly, all 3 games brought with them significant crowd trouble outside the CG, especially the Man Utd & Bristol City games.
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I thought we were going to win the Cup & promptly set about making plans for the replay at Ipswich 3 days later on the Tuesday night. At that time, I was working in Nottingham travelling on the train each day from Newark. In those days, the Bank had granted me study leave every Monday so I could 'study' for my Bank Exams (not much fun and not my forte!) so I had to phone work on the Monday and negotiate an early departure time which I did successfully. A friend I used to work with, a fellow Forest fan had also asked to leave early so we ended up travelling together.
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So, on the Tuesday morning I was up as usual at 6am; walked some 3 miles to catch the train to work; did a days work ,& we left Nottingham at 4pm. We arrived outside the ground about 1/4 hour before kick off with masses of Forest fans still outside and still trying to get in. I think it is fair to say, they had underestimated how many would be travelling and in those days for such games, i.e) replays, rarely was there time to make games all ticket etc.
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Whilst outside, we scored but it was disallowed and eventually we got in about 1/2 hour after the kick off! The away end was so overcrowded that some fans were allowed to sit in front of the wall on the pitch. We were crushed up against the very high (as they were at Portman Road) segregation fences with a crap view and packed in like sardines, very uncomfortably so really.
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Anyhow, needless to say we lost 1-0, with some irate and upset Forest fans subsequently looking for trouble, as a result of which the Police sent us a completely different way when exiting the stadium. Now, I have driven to or been in cars to hundreds of away games and this is the only time that we actually lost the car! To cut a long story short we eventually 'recovered it' some hours later. I finally got back to Newark about 3.30AM, quick bath or shower ... 1 1/2 hours sleep & up againat 6 AM for work ... all good fun watching the Reds ... oh and we were out of the Cup!
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When you think about it, many football fans do plenty of crazy things to watch their teams play that people in the rest of society would and do struggle to understand.
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For decades we were subjected to some of the most appalling facilities imaginable, including the old Wembley and the totally inadequate toilet facilities for starters. Caged in like animals for years and just accepting it, rip off ticket prices, crap food and so on.... At times and at certain places, you really did put yourself at serious risk in more ways than one.
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In what is now my 47th season (2013/14), I will be well on my way towards having attended well in excess of 1,500 matches. I don't profess to be 'the' greatest Forest fan of all time, but in terms of loyalty and number of matches attended etc, I would like to think I'm probably in the top 10 or 15% al factors considered.
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I've seen us abroad. I don't see that as daft; I consider it a privilege, although Madrid on a Wright's 50 seater was not my best idea ever. But I have been to the likes of Plymouth on a Monday night, Carlisle on a Tuesday night, Yeovil on a Friday night and so on. I've seen us lose at the likes of Accrington & Chester and many others I could mention.
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I've seen us thrashed at places ike Oldham (5-0), Blackburm (7-0 ) & countless other humiliations, not to mention all the heartbreaking moments. I've been thumped and kicked, but only a few times: fortunately I have always been quite a quick runner, which was handy in my younger days as I probably did occasionally have a bit too much gob.
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But, and there is a big 'but', all the tough times make the good times, when they come, even better & we have had plenty of those too.
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I may have spent a fortune, as a family we still do... Has it been & is it all worth it ? You bet it is!
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Aside from the lengths you might go to see your team, there are at times risks you take too. I'm not just talking about some of the dodgy grounds & surrounding areas, especially in the 70's & 80's, but in a variety of other ways.
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I remember a few occasions in my 6th form at school, where I nipped off early to get to several away games & it did come close in the end as to whether or not I would in fact get as far as the exams! They may as well have kicked me out as I did not do well in my A'Levels. I put that down to not doing any work , as I had secured my full time job at NatWest in January 1979; 6 months ahead of my exams. With a starting date in August 79. I was also working part time delivering milk; much more fun than school. In hindsight, I should have left, but at least I left with many happy memories.
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In my early days at work, getting to away games from the Bank was very rarely a problem. Provided you worked hard, which I did - always, they were really good with me. From 1991 I worked in the Financial Services side of the business, initially as a Financial Adviser until 1994, then thereafter as an Area Manager, looking after teams of Advisers. That gave me much felixibility & I could almost always get to any games. Again, I worked bloody hard and at times very long hours, but give and take is usally a recipe for success.
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Unfortunately, there were a couple of exceptions to this. One such occasion, I had been booked on some study course (April 1990) which was supposed to start on Mon 30th April. The 'joker' running it insisted everyone had to be there on the Sunday, the 29th, late afternoon to start and for a pre-brief, or some nonesense like that. I was doing some banking exams at the time (yuk!), hence the reason for the course. I politely asked if he would mind me joining the course early evening on the Sunday & explained why. He told me that if I couldn't be bothered to get there on time, not to bother at all. No brainer really! I told him I wouldn't be coming and I don't think the clown believed me. Obviously, he reported me to work but I managed to bullshit my way out of that one.
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Then, again in my early days in the Bank, I had moved from Nottingham to Southwell & there was some 'old fossil' Admin Manager there responsible for admin type staff matters. He was like something out the 18th century, & not your run of the mill bloke. He managed to catch me out a couple of times when I had nipped off to various away games, when I was supposed to be on 'day release' at College. Again, somehow I managed to blagg my way out of those too! When I was at Trent Poly in the early 80's doing more banking exams, I had an agreement with the lecturers who took the evening classes. They said, and this was more relevant to the home games, provided I turned up at 6.30pm for the register, they would record me as being there. I think one of the times the 'old fossil' caught me out, was on a trip up to Man Utd in a League Cup tie in 1983. I got my comeuppence that day as we lost 4-0 and the train's heating packed up on a freezing cold night.
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On an entirely separate note, I've been on a few bricked coaches and that doesn't half wake you up! There was a game at Barnsley in recent times (league one) where the coach was bricked and another occasion, years ago at Leeds, I think in 1980, where our Coach driver slammed his brakes on and essentialy ordered some of the lads to chase after the culprits, which they dutifuly did. I will end that story there though I think.
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The worst ground I have been to for damaging the away coaches is Millwall & Liverpool based on what I have seen.
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Finally, for now, back in Aug 89 we were having a break in Gt Yarmouth, (2 families). The 1st day of the holiday coincided with Forest's 1st match of the season at Norwich. We were in a bit of a hurry to get back from Yarmouth to Norwich in time for kick off. I could have sworn I was not blocking anyone in, but came back after a 2-1 defeat to find a flat punctured tyre, so ended up changing my wheel much to the amusement of Norwich's carrot crunching fans.
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Nothing mind blowingly exciting in there,just a few examples of the lengths you go to for your team. You hope they appreciate it!
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A FEW THINGS LOST ...
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Many years ago in the wonderful city of Madrid, after we had retained the European Cup , I lost one of my Nottm Forest scarves to a nice young blonde female SV Hamburg fan, well I gave it to her really (the scarf!) & I like to think she probably still has it, as up in my loft somewhere I have the SV Hamburg scarf.
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In significant contrast, I lost my trainers at an away game at Wolves in March 2001. The previous season, we had been hammered 3-0 there; the 3rd goal coming after 25 mins, a Michael Branch goal when our keeper Dave Beasant had tried to put the ball out of play to allow a Wolves player to receive treatment, only to be picked up by Branch, who ran on to score. Beasant chased after him to no avail, then on the stroke of half time, Prutton was sent off reducing us to 9 men, Vaughan having already been sent off for brawling on 7 minutes.
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Anyhow, back to the story and March 2001, Andy Johnson sent off this time on the stroke of half time for punching Kevin Muscat (nobody would blame anybody for doing that to that thug! Indeed our on loan legend Ian Wright had been sent off the previous season for 2 bookable offences, one involving Muscat). Within 3 mins of the restart we were 1-0 down, thanks to an own goal and 2-0 down on 62 mins. The usual crap fayre, Platt football was being dished up so with about 5 mins to go we decided to leave. Walking back to the car, a Wolves fan shouts something to me from his car, so I go over to him to as I can't hear him clearly. I stand in a pile of dog shit & he proceeds to tell me Forest have just had another player (Harewood) sent off! Trainers definitely not going in the car, especially as I wasn't driving that day. Binned! Another lovely trip to Wolverhampton, a nasty place at the best of times.
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And finally, for today, not me this time but the bloke that used to run our away coaches in the late 70's / early 80's...an away game at Chelsea in 1977 I think, from memory, & we are greeted by some Chelsea nutters baying for blood, he gets smashed in the mouth and his false teeth drop out! ... strange but true ...and he saw the funny side as the police restored order!
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A Serious waste of time! - October 3rd 1981 ...
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A routine away game at Tottenham ?, the difference was that this was the 1st away game I had driven too, on the basis I had a couple of weeks earlier purchased my 1st ever car, a Mark 1 Ford Escort, from my cousin at a price of £525. We set off in good time & the plan was we would drive to my mate's who had recently 'emigrated' to Walthamstow.
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Anyhow we had progressed some 70 miles South when some bright spark on the back seat decided to open the back window ... the problem being, the window was one of those old fixed ones which theoretically don't open ... well this one did but in many thousands of pieces all over the A1. Detour required ... can't remember where exactly but in the vain hope of finding some scrap yard where we could pick a window up and glue it in the now big hole. We did eventually find one but it was back in Newark ... quick check of the clock ... 12.45PM! ... off we set again at breakneck speed to arrive incredibly in Walthamstow inside of 2 hours. Quick transfer of cars to my mate down there's car and off we go to WHL. From memory, we either just got there on time or missed a few minutes ... after a 3-0 battering I wish we had missed it all. Back in my mate's car from Tottenham to Walthamstow, stuck in terrible traffic and trying to avoid eye contact with prowling Tottenham fans looking to see who they could attack or indeed whos's car they could, I had to question whether this had been my brightest ever idea.
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To add final insult to injury, we drove back in torrential rain for most of the journey, could barely see the white lines in the road but all in all just another 'fun' day out watching the Reds.
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28/5/80 - European Cup Final - Nottingham Forest 1-0 SV Hamburg - Bernabeu Stadium, Madrid
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​Our journey began just before Midnight on Sunday 25th May 1980 as we climbed aboard our 'Travel Wright' 50 seater coach and departed on the 1,200 mile (approximately) journey South to Madrid.
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This was by far the farthest I had ever travelled to watch Forest. Plymouth (a) on a Monday night after a 3-2 defeat due to a late penalty may have felt longer however ... & Madrid was also some 360 miles further than the mere 840 miles to Munich where we lifted the trophy for the first time in 1979). Fear not though, I am not going to regale you with all the long journey stories but the Madrid one was certainly 'eventful' to say the least.
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I often ask myself why we did not fly? But, back in 1980, the coach seemed the most simple to a partly naive 19 year old.
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I guess the majority of the 50 on board had spent most of the day or evening in the Pub, myself included. So, after a few had waved us on our way, we tried to settle down and grab a bit of kip as we made for Dover. I will leave it to your imagination as to how fresh the air was by the time we arrived there.
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I will do my best to remember events as accurately as I can, but 33 years on the memory has dimmed a little. In my loft at home, I have a picture somewhere of my old friend Jon Howsam throwing up over the side of the ferry at around 6 A.M on the Monday morning and he wasn't the only one.
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Without wishing to incriminate anyone I will just say there were only a few minor incidents aboard as we steamed for Boulogne.
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The journey through France was pleasant: we did not have any overnight stops booked but we had plenty of breaks at 'Motorway' service stations etc, but it was tiring. It was a little time consuming crossing the border into Spain and the guards did search the coach and make a bit of noise but eventually we were allowed on our way.
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Crossing the Pyrenees very early Tuesday morning (natural France/Spain border I believe) was quite an experience: many long and winding roads but eventually we were back on the main roads, weather now hot.
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As near as I can remember we arrived in Madrid around midday Spanish time on the Tuesday, some 35 hours after leaving Newark. Some had brought their tents, not me ... I hate camping ... so the rest of us set about trying to find a hotel. You can see how well prepared we were!
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Myself and a couple of my friends spent hours trying to find a half decent place to stay (not that easy as English football fans were not made very welcome in those days) but eventually after having been chased down the road, carrying bags and all, by an angry Madrid cab driver ( I will let you work that one out) we did find somewhere to stay. I would say in our defence by the way, the cabi was trying to rip us off!
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Speaking of rip offs, we paid over £100 equivalent for room only, 2 nights, with the most basic of ammenities: 3 single beds, a shit view out the window, a shower, a toilet and a sink ... but at least it was clean. Some of the shit holes we had been in defied belief, others waved us away (don't think they liked the Union flag for starters) & others were incredibly expensive. £100 was a lot of money in 1980.
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It would essentially become more expensive stll! When returning from a night club at 4 A.M Wednesday morning, after going out on the Tuesday night, I couldn't find the hotel, so I grabbed a couple of hours under a flag somewhere in a square in Madrid.
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Anyway, wind back a bit ... to late afternoon Tuesday. Having completed the 3 x S's (shit, shower & shave) we strolled out into Madrid to locate the Stadium, stopping several times for refreshments along the way. The game was not until the Wednesday night of course so there was no rush. The weather was lovely and already thousands of Forest fans were in the City. In Munich, we had over 25,000 fans and again, there was wonderful support in Madrid with officially 20,000 making the journey from Nottinghamshire. I have to say in both cases there looked many more and in both cases we massively outnumbered the opposition.
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We also met some Hamburg fans, most looked like something out of Meatloaf, or a cross between Meatloaf and Status Quo (and that's just the women - only joking) but for the most part the 'banter' was good natured.
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Sadly, I can't say that was the case between the Forest fans and the Para-military Spanish Police. You have to remember that this was only some 5 years after the Franco dictatorship had ended in Spain and I don't think they took too kindly to the "General Franco's dead and gone" chants.
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They were even more unimpressed with some Forest fans taking a dip in a fountain in one of Madrid's many squares. Hundreds had congregated in some bars near the said fountain and the atmosphere was noisy but good humoured for the most part. For no reason they decided ... very forcefully, to remove the lads from the fountain ... pretty unpleasant and being smashed across your back with one of those fucking batons they carried must have hurt.
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Needless to say, some of the Forest fans took issue with this and for 5 minutes or so we had carnage. It seemed much longer at the time but I think it was only 5 minutes or so. It culminated in a table going through a window, glass everywhere, folks running all over the road, a taxi driver getting his window kicked in before more 'troops' arrived, dragged a few fans away and restored order. I am not looking to condemn or condone but it was all a little heavy handed and unecessary to say the least, as most fans were just having a bit of fun, enjoying a drink and a sing song in the sunshine.
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At some point in the evening, we did find somewhere to eat before moving on to a slightly dodgy night club as the drinking continued. Having left the club at 4AM, had a bit of a sleep in the square and eventually rediscovering the hotel, it was out to the bars again by Wednesday late morning.
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In all honesty, Wednesday day time was largely a repeat of Tuesday, mainly good natured stuff with a few skirmishes with some fans along the way. There had been a lot more trouble in the Semi-Final in Amsterdam and in the previous season at Liverpool. Also, there would be a lot more in the EUFA Cup in Anderlecht in 1984 but sadly more to come in this one after the game in Madrid.
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The Forest support in the Stadium was fantastic. Our end of the ground in the massive Stadium was pretty full which was not the case in the Hamburg end and where I was, behind the goal, was still terracing. The difference between the two ends is very noticeable if you ever watch the game on you tube or wherever.
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Anyhow, despite being massive underdogs and up against it much of the night, we retained the trophy, courtesy of a John Robertson goal on 19 minutes.
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There is much talk these days of how it is more of an achievement to win the 'Inappropriately' named Champions League. I don't see it that way at all. Whilst I would agree to rate winning the old European Cup format on a par with winning the Champions League, l loved a comment I read which described the Champions League as a glorified EUFA Cup.
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Additionally, it is many of the same teams that have won it whatever the format. Only 22 teams have been crowned 'Champions of Europe' ... of those only 12 have won it twice or more. Of those 12, 10 have won both formats. (Forest & Benfica the two that have 'only' won the old version). It is also woth noting that only 8 clubs have ever retained the trophy and only ACMilan since Forest.
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Right then, back to the stadium as John McGovern lifts the trophy again to a sea of Red & White as we all celebrate wildly. We are stood right behind the goal but on the corner the para-military are at it again launching tear gas into the Forest end just because some fans are scaling the pen fences and it's all slightly unpleasant again.
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Ouside the ground it is still mainly good natured between the Forest & Hamburg fans as the bars begin to fill ... again, and I end up trading one of my Forest scarves for a Hamburg scarf with a nice blonde German girl, who definitely did not look like something out of Meatloaf! Moving on ...
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We eventually found ourselves somehow back at the same night club as the previous night (not sure why or how really as I've never really liked night clubs, it was pretty grim and I could barely neither walk or see straight).
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We must have made our way back to the hotel succesfully at some point as I remember grabbing a much needed shower before boarding the coach at 10am for the mere 1,200 mile journey back home.
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There were a few entertaining moments along the way, I cannot remember them all but I do remember pulling into a service station where there were already 2 'Bartons of Nottingham' coaches in, and in the car park a game of about 40 a side football ensued much to the amusement of the locals.
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I also remember stopping off in Biarritz, a nice town! But at some point, as we went through the town centre, there was a parked car blocking our way and we could not get round a corner. Needless to say, several pilled off the coach and said 'obstruction' was calmy lifted up, moved a few yards, 'gently' put down - and we were on our way. I should say, there were a few other issues during our short stay there.
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By the time we were back on the ferry I was now definitely feeling the worse for wear but sadly my prayers for a calm crossing were not answered.
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We got back to Newark around 11PM on the Friday night after some 38 hours travelling and headed straight for the Fish & Chip shop. I ate them then walked a short distance home. I rang the doorbell, my late Mum answered and said "Good grief boy, get in the bloody bath!" My parents were glad I was back safely really ... I think. Somehow, I got up at the normal early time on the Saturday morning but when I went to bed that night, I slept until 2PM on the Sunday ... that represented more hours sleep than I'd had during the whole of the previous week.
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The following week, I was still on holiday from work so I went to the Trent Bridge Test Match - England v West Indies (more bloody alcohol). When I went back to work the week after that at NatWest, Nottm Trinity Square Branch, my old Admin Manager told me he had seen me on the television whilst in Madrid - I sincerely hoped he hadn't really or my Bank career may have been over before it started.
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If we ever play in Europe again, it's Eurostar or flying but all in all it was a lot of fun and it still makes me proud when I hear our chant "We went to Europe, we won the cup twice"
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Benson & Hedges Cup Final at Lords - 24th July 1982 - Nottinghamshire v Somerset:
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http://cricketarchive.com/Nottinghamshire/Scorecards/42/42665.html Scorecard
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A highly amusing day began for us with a lager breakfast at around 6.45 A.M before boarding our Travel Wright coach bound for Lords, St John's Wood, London. Notts had reached a 'one day' Final for the 1st time in thier history and we certainly set off in high spirits. (I should point out that if I attempted the same now ... i.e) a 6.45 A.M lager breakfast, I would probably not get past 10 A.M).
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Anyhow, we were confident of a victory, especially as we were current County Champions having won that title in 1981 (after a 52 year wait) & had won a thrilling B&H semi-final at Trent Bridge against Lancashire to make the Final.
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We boarded the Coach at 7.15AM. Approximately half of the 50 seater were going to the Cricket & the other half were on a day trip to London. In those days things like alcohol bans on coaches did not exist so as we got closer to London, we were becoming increasingly hammered and by the time we arrived and were 'dumped' at the Ground, we were well gone.
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The expected 'finish' time for the Cricket was 7.30 P.M but the coach driver said 'not to worry, if the cricket went past that time, they would wait for us' ... park that comment for now.
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Just as quickly as we entered the Ground, we were nearly ejected but managed to overcome that hurdle with some quick thinking charm. Back in 1982, you could still 'sit' on the grass at Lords on the boundary edge, and by 11 A.M, the prospect of a bit of a lie down seemed more appealing than the 'bench style' seats, so we went for that option.
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The drinking continued and play was underway at 11 A.M. You have to be mindful that there have been massive changes to 'one day cricket' down the years and it was very different back then to what it is today. For the most part, scoring rates were nowhere near what they are today and of course rules also changed to enhance this. That did not however excuse what followed:
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Notts batted first and by the end of our innings we managed to 'achieve' the lowest ever score in a one day Final, all out for 130 in 50.1 overs of a 55 over game. The only 'highlight' of the innings was when a Notts fan, dressed as Batman, ran on to the pitch with a pint which he subsequently offered to Notts batsmen Basher Hassan, who had just hit a 4. (It wasn't one of us from our coach).
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From memory, each of the 2 clubs had been allocated some 6,000 tickets and Lords was full that day, with 25,000 or so. As the drink began to take effect several were ejected and the taveners was temporarily closed.
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Back to the cricket ... we still believed with our excellet bowling attack, we could make a game of this ... messrs Hadlee, Rice, Hemmings etc ... erm ... not so. Somerset (who would be a pain in the arse for us many times more over the coming & recent years) knocked the runs off in less than 2 hours for the loss of just one wicket & as such thrashed us by 9 wickets.
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The one amusing part of their innings being when they lost their one wicket and thousands of Notts fans, piss taking themselves celebrated as if they had just won the trophy. Football style chants of 'Nottingham, Nottingham, Nottingham' reverberated around Lords (football style because many of those present were Forest fans anyway).
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Wind back now to the coach driver ... he would pick us up at 7.30pm and wait for us if necessary. Problem, it was still only 5pm ... nothing to do other than drink. This was a problem in itself as Lords for me literally was already spinning. Anyway, we met up with some Somerset fans who wanted to share thier cider & scrumpy with us ... and were happy to pour it down our throats out of these funny shaped containers as we littered the streets & bars of St John's wood.
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When the coach finally picked us up, I and others were seriously the worse for wear. I can't remember getting back to Newark but we did & I ended up sleeping on the floor at my lifelong mate Graham's house, who's parents were away on holiday, fortunately.
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By the middle of the afternoon the next day things were still not good but it had all been good fun. The Times newspaper did an article on the Monday (cricket was Saturday) and made reference to the 'behaviour' of the Notts & Somerset fans. In all honesty, it must have looked pretty bad but it was all good natured stuff.
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Worst of all, we had lost but even though Notts have had some excellent successes down the years, we have had plenty of heartache too, so with Forest & Notts CCC combined you really do get a rollercoaster of emotions, and I am sure over the coming months I may be reciting a few more.
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