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[Albion] My father and the Goldstone



The Large One

Who's Next?
Jul 7, 2003
52,343
97.2FM
Someone told me that NSC can be a place of catharsis; of sharing, so I hope I can beg your indulgence and tell you a story of my Dad, me and The Goldstone Ground. I wrote this last year for the Goldstone Days evening at the Theatre Royal.

Why am I posting this? My father, my mentor, my friend, and the man who took me to the Goldstone Ground for the very first time, passed away yesterday. I'd wanted him to take me, and when he finally did, it was brilliant. This is for my Dad - I hope it strikes a chord with you...



In the mid-late 1970s, my father was a self-employed carpenter. Most Saturday mornings he would head to the small industrial units in Newtown Road, Sackville Road and Conway Street where there were painting and decorating shops or an electrical store or a general hardware store. These stores always stank of white spirit – whatever they were selling – and ran by a kindly old fella called Reg or Stan. Think The Two Ronnies’ Four Candles sketch, and you’ll get the picture. This was way before the DIY sheds came along.

His eight year-old son (me) being keen to know what his Dad was doing, would merrily bowl along, in the oft-forlorn hope that he would be able to take a left turn to watch Brighton play at The Goldstone Ground.

In those days, Brighton were on the up. Recently-retired firebrand Alan Mullery was the new manager, and a cocky upstart called Peter Ward was banging the goals in for fun. It was a good time to start being interested in football in Brighton.

Every Saturday afternoon, we’d have to traipse to my Nan and Grandad’s house to see the rest of the (large) family. The room was full of cigarette smoke and endlessly boring chatter. My Nan and I would watch the wrestling on ITV; Nan spitting venom at the baddies, me waiting for the football results to come up.

I’d sit patiently waiting for the Division III scores to come in, not having a clue where the Albion were playing, nor against whom on any given day. But we seemed to win most weeks, and we were always near the top of the table.

I’d been pestering Dad about when we could go to the Albion. I had no idea how dangerous it might have been – there was a lot of hooliganism back then – I just wanted to see my (as yet unseen) heroes play.

So it came to pass, we were on another visit to Hove one Saturday lunchtime in September 1978. I assumed I was merely accompanying Dad on another white spirit-sniffing escapade. We parked up somewhere nearby and, as we were walking along Old Shoreham Road past the North Stand turnstiles, he turned to me and said, “fancy watching the game...?”

HALLELUJAH!

We eventually found a turnstile to Dad’s liking leading to the terrace in the West Stand, north end. I had to go in a separate entrance to him, so Dad gave me my 20p to get in, and in I went. From there, everything was simply magic for me. All the things I’d dreamed going to a football match would be was all perfectly true.

I can vividly remember so many details – the sunny day, the loud noise from the North Stand about Peter Ward being magic, all being sung by skinny blokes in their late teens and early twenties with massively flared jeans and ridiculously androgynous hairdos. Scarves – blue and white, of course – were worn on wrists, and everyone smoked.

And I also learned a fair few words of Anglo-Saxon I only thought the naughty children in the playground said. I had no idea adults swore; I thought they’d grown out of it by then.

We won 1-0 against Oldham Athletic. Wardy claimed the goal, but it went down as an own goal. I couldn’t see the south goal from where I was standing. So it was great when I saw Gary Williams (I recognised him from the Evening Argus) taking a corner. Peter O’Sullivan was flying down the wing. Brian Horton bawled lumps out of everyone, friend and foe...

As much as I’d pestered Dad to go before, this was nothing compared to how much I wanted to go again. He never did take me again though, so as soon as I could, I went on my own.

From the age of 12, I walked from our home near Preston Circus to The Goldstone Ground every home match, and took my place in the North Stand. I met up with a few of my schoolfriends there, and we had a good time. In the 19 years between my first and last game at the Goldstone, I probably went about 300 times.

While we’re at it, let’s call the Goldstone for what it was – a dump. Behind the North Stand, the food kiosk was next to the toilets, and most times you couldn’t tell which was which. As the years passed, the terraces were crumbling, neglected by the arrogant local businessmen who ran the club who seemed to care not one jot for the welfare of the lifeblood of the club – the supporters. But it was our dump, and we were proud of it. It was home.

So when it came to the club announcing that they were selling the ground and moving to Portsmouth, I was intrigued, then concerned, then outraged.

I’d kept my spot in the North Stand for years (aside from the times they closed it to build the new roof – and the time they handed it over to Pompey fans for one match). Now it seemed someone wanted to end all that; not just the Goldstone, the club. Some things are sacred; this must not happen.

The story of how things turned out between 1995 and 1997 is now the stuff of legend, and everyone who played their part knows who they are – as should every single Brighton fan. Me, I did more than some, less than others – but i can confidently raise my glass high and say with satisfaction that I was there.

But, like the Bobby Goldsboro song, I’ll always go back in my mind, to the very first time - and that piece of magic, going to the football with my Dad, will stay with me forever.



RIP Dad. And thank you. UTA.
 






Gwylan

Well-known member
Jul 5, 2003
31,323
Uffern
Sorry to hear of your loss, Al. That first time is always special and it's a memory you'll always have.
 


Pogue Mahone

Well-known member
Apr 30, 2011
10,719
My dad died nearly six years ago. It still hurts, and it affected me massively at the time - I was desolate, quite destroyed.

I'm so sorry for your loss - it's brought those feelings back to the fore. They will never go away.

That is a lovely tribute. RIP your dad. keep strong, fella.
 






The Andy Naylor Fan Club

Well-known member
Aug 31, 2012
5,144
Right Here, Right Now
Nice words Al. My wife used to work with your mum at the Post Office, Preston Road. I have just mentioned your father's passing and she remembers him and your mum fondly. Both she and I pass on our deepest condolences to you and your family.
 






The Large One

Who's Next?
Jul 7, 2003
52,343
97.2FM
Nice words Al. My wife used to work with your mum at the Post Office, Preston Road. I have just mentioned your father's passing and she remembers him and your mum fondly. Both she and I pass on our deepest condolences to you and your family.

Thank you. Excuse the bluntness, but... who are you? Sorry, I mean - if you're happy to betray your anonymity...
 


Thunder Bolt

Ordinary Supporter
My dad died nearly six years ago. It still hurts, and it affected me massively at the time - I was desolate, quite destroyed.

I'm so sorry for your loss - it's brought those feelings back to the fore. They will never go away.

That is a lovely tribute. RIP your dad. keep strong, fella.

It's 20 years on Friday since I lost my Dad. I agree, it's devastating. He took me to the Goldstone when I was 13, but didn't start going by myself until I was 16.

So sorry for your loss Al, and it's a lovely tribute. Take care of yourself.
 


The Andy Naylor Fan Club

Well-known member
Aug 31, 2012
5,144
Right Here, Right Now
Thank you. Excuse the bluntness, but... who are you? Sorry, I mean - if you're happy to betray your anonymity...

You may know my wife ( Tracey, apologies should have made that clear in the original post) but I believe that we've never met.
 




Jam The Man

Well-known member
Jul 5, 2003
8,110
South East North Lancing
Sorry for your sad loss Al.
#neverforgotten
 








Telboy

Who Are You
Jul 6, 2003
663
WSU
My Dad took me to my first game against Pompey 1959. I now go with my Son, Daughter and her Partner, Grandson, Brother, Nephews and from next season another Grandson.
 


Aveacarlin'

New member
Jul 5, 2011
1,177
Sorry for your loss. Lovely story and one I can relate to although my father is still with us. It transported me back to the early 80s' when we'd visit family in Shirley Street and you could hear the crowd roar when the Albion scored. Then one day my dad took me and like you, never looked back. Nothing can take those memories away. My condolences to you. Take care.

Sent from my SM-G900F using Tapatalk
 


AmexRuislip

Trainee Spy 🕵️‍♂️
Feb 2, 2014
33,727
Ruislip
This is what NSC is all about, comradery.
My father introduced me to the Albion in 1976, not bad going for a Spuds fan.
He unknowingly keeps an eye on what they're doing. :)
 








Jul 7, 2003
8,571
Sorry to hear of your loss and thanks for sharing the story.

I started not long before you when my Dad took me along to the Goldstone and this put something of a lump in my throat as I have just got back from visiting my Dad in hospital where he is thankfully recovering from a mild heart attack.
 



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