Gordon the Gopher
Active member
Am a little embarrassed to admit that an old mate of mine used to belong and sent me a copy of a book all about them. Have pasted a couple of stories from it of interest. Could be a load of old bollocks of course!
Brighton was the last away match of the season and a few decided to go down on a minibus to London on the Friday before the match. Dave Lee, Geordie Andy, Dean from Oldham and some other North East supporters met in Leeds along with and a lad called Kenny, who resembled Lemmy from Motorhead and who brought his girlfriend and son. He spent practically the entire journey snogging his girlfriend with his son looking on, embarrassed. He and his little party left the lads to go off and do their own thing on arrival, with the others settling in one of the pubs. The lads later saw them at it again in the pub, with the son sat nearby looking awkward. Before the match, trouble erupted between the police and Leeds fans in a park by the ground. There in the middle of the argy-bargy, sat on a bench, was Kenny and partner in yet another passionate embrace, with his poor son looking thoroughly bored.
Later on, as a group of forty Leeds were mooching about on the beach, they heard the sounds of someone having sex in a boat on the shore. They surprised the couple, who turned out to be two blokes who jumped up and ran away after being disturbed.
The last game of the season at Brighton and Hove Albion saw the Sussex club relegated to the Third Division after Leeds beat them 1-0. Groups travelled down to Brighton the night before the match and it wasn’t long before fights broke out with late-night drinkers in the town. Two hours before kick-off, shops and an amusement arcade were targeted as well as tourists on the seafront, who quickly dispersed as deckchairs, stones and bottles were thrown. Six Leeds fans were arrested, with five charged with public order offences. Leeds vastly outnumbered the home fans and police with dogs tried to keep them in check in the East Terrace but failed to stop some climbing over the fence and onto the pitch to carry Brendan Ormsby aloft. A football was produced and the lads proceeded to have a kickabout by one goal as others tried swinging on the crossbar. The police drew their truncheons and mounted officers eventually cleared the pitch.
Brighton away a couple of months later was, however, a day that some Leeds lads can’t be too proud of. It was cold and wet and only 600-odd tickets had been made available but a few headed south to watch Leeds play in front of the smallest crowd of the season. Lee was among the visitors:
Brighton, a place for a weekend of sun and sea and, of course, homosexuals – so never any trouble in the Eighties! We used to take 5,000 and dominate the town, so when someone said they had a spare ticket and do I fancy it for the weekend, I said yes. I knew there wouldn't be many of our lot going but a weekend away is a weekend away.
The match was crap but we stayed to the end for some reason. Around 10pm, about thirty of us found ourselves in the area known as the Lanes when someone said Brighton were on the phone. I looked around the pub and thought, no worries. Through the windows I then saw twenty lads coming towards the pub. I told a couple of lads and went outside to be faced by two ugly twats, one a skinny wanker, who said, ‘I’m Hibs, who are you?’
I hate Hibs. While he spoke he put one hand in his inside jacket pocket – shitbag – and with the other he launched his full pint at me. As I turned away, his fat, Boris Johnson lookalike mate came at me and stuck his fist in my face, with the weight of his twenty-two-stone body.
More lads started to come out the pub, ten of us in total. Brighton backed off and decided instead to bombard us and the pub with anything they could get their hands on – bottles, glasses and about fifty pub chairs. There was not much ten of us could do but at least it was more than the twenty inside who didn't come out. They backed the ten of us into the pub and went on to destroy the outside of it until the Old Bill turned up. The night didn't do much for my good looks.
Brighton was the last away match of the season and a few decided to go down on a minibus to London on the Friday before the match. Dave Lee, Geordie Andy, Dean from Oldham and some other North East supporters met in Leeds along with and a lad called Kenny, who resembled Lemmy from Motorhead and who brought his girlfriend and son. He spent practically the entire journey snogging his girlfriend with his son looking on, embarrassed. He and his little party left the lads to go off and do their own thing on arrival, with the others settling in one of the pubs. The lads later saw them at it again in the pub, with the son sat nearby looking awkward. Before the match, trouble erupted between the police and Leeds fans in a park by the ground. There in the middle of the argy-bargy, sat on a bench, was Kenny and partner in yet another passionate embrace, with his poor son looking thoroughly bored.
Later on, as a group of forty Leeds were mooching about on the beach, they heard the sounds of someone having sex in a boat on the shore. They surprised the couple, who turned out to be two blokes who jumped up and ran away after being disturbed.
The last game of the season at Brighton and Hove Albion saw the Sussex club relegated to the Third Division after Leeds beat them 1-0. Groups travelled down to Brighton the night before the match and it wasn’t long before fights broke out with late-night drinkers in the town. Two hours before kick-off, shops and an amusement arcade were targeted as well as tourists on the seafront, who quickly dispersed as deckchairs, stones and bottles were thrown. Six Leeds fans were arrested, with five charged with public order offences. Leeds vastly outnumbered the home fans and police with dogs tried to keep them in check in the East Terrace but failed to stop some climbing over the fence and onto the pitch to carry Brendan Ormsby aloft. A football was produced and the lads proceeded to have a kickabout by one goal as others tried swinging on the crossbar. The police drew their truncheons and mounted officers eventually cleared the pitch.
Brighton away a couple of months later was, however, a day that some Leeds lads can’t be too proud of. It was cold and wet and only 600-odd tickets had been made available but a few headed south to watch Leeds play in front of the smallest crowd of the season. Lee was among the visitors:
Brighton, a place for a weekend of sun and sea and, of course, homosexuals – so never any trouble in the Eighties! We used to take 5,000 and dominate the town, so when someone said they had a spare ticket and do I fancy it for the weekend, I said yes. I knew there wouldn't be many of our lot going but a weekend away is a weekend away.
The match was crap but we stayed to the end for some reason. Around 10pm, about thirty of us found ourselves in the area known as the Lanes when someone said Brighton were on the phone. I looked around the pub and thought, no worries. Through the windows I then saw twenty lads coming towards the pub. I told a couple of lads and went outside to be faced by two ugly twats, one a skinny wanker, who said, ‘I’m Hibs, who are you?’
I hate Hibs. While he spoke he put one hand in his inside jacket pocket – shitbag – and with the other he launched his full pint at me. As I turned away, his fat, Boris Johnson lookalike mate came at me and stuck his fist in my face, with the weight of his twenty-two-stone body.
More lads started to come out the pub, ten of us in total. Brighton backed off and decided instead to bombard us and the pub with anything they could get their hands on – bottles, glasses and about fifty pub chairs. There was not much ten of us could do but at least it was more than the twenty inside who didn't come out. They backed the ten of us into the pub and went on to destroy the outside of it until the Old Bill turned up. The night didn't do much for my good looks.
