Villa memories or something similar

I remember going to Turf Moor years and years ago. Went with my cousin. It started snowing early in the game and by half time we couldn't see the other end of the pitch.
Went to Highbury and got abused by a young girl who was sitting in front of me with her dad. Villa scored first and he had a hard time persuading his darling daughter not to headbutt me.
Went to Wolves with my mate's dad who bled orange and black. Massive police presence outside the ground and I remember the horses sidling up to us and pressing us against the side of the ground (so we didn't riot in the street I suppose) I got my foot broken from a horse standing on it. Watched the whole game being held up by my shoulders as it was so packed I couldn't put my feet to the floor. After the game I went to hospital lol
Went to Antwerp, got so excited I passed out and missed the whole game. British Ambassador lectured me for being a hooligan, my mum was not pleased - got grounded for months.

De Kuip wrote:VR and George absolutely class stories I love them - keep the stories coming folks - I tell you what there's a book here somewhere. Never mind official club biographies or books about football days covering the same group of lads - what about a social history of Villa told by loads of people who pretty much don't know each other but share a common bond and have loads of great stories.  I'd buy it.
Oh and Trotters please please can we change the name of this thread to "Villa memories" or something similar. ..pleeeeeseee?

Brilliant idea DK and it would make a change from all the books glorifying thuggery and those who ruined the game for the rest of us in the 70's and 80's. Real stories from real fans not those just going to the game for a fight rather than because they loved the Villa.

De Kuip wrote:...
Oh and Trotters please please can we change the name of this thread to "Villa memories" or something similar.

Done

WendyOz wrote:
Went to Wolves with my mate's dad who bled orange and black. Massive police presence outside the ground and I remember the horses sidling up to us and pressing us against the side of the ground (so we didn't riot in the street I suppose) I got my foot broken from a horse standing on it. Watched the whole game being held up by my shoulders as it was so packed I couldn't put my feet to the floor. After the game I went to hospital lol

I forget how old I was - maybe 8 or 9 - and the scenes after a home game against Wolves like like a bad day in Beirut. Bricks, bottles, car parts, all sorts were being launched in every direction. A cop on a horse rode past and watching one of those in action was terrifying. Some poor sod will be on the end of that swinging truncheon (a real truncheon in the cops hand, not a euphemism for the horse). Turns out one of those poor sods was my brother who collected a lovely bruise across his back for his troubles.

That was a family day out never to be repeated. Mum used to yell out "Come on, Tone!" when Morley was in full flight but that Wolves game saw the end of that.

I never understood the anger of the game at a young age and, living where I do, it's still lost on me. I get the banter, I get the songs....I'll never get how that extends to wanting to beat 7 shades of shit out of someone for simply supporting another team.

Trotters wrote:I'll never get how that extends to wanting to beat 7 shades of shit out of someone for simply supporting another team

Me neither. Makes no sense and is bloody borderline retarded. 

I was once sat in a bar in the Arcadian for an old missus' birthday and some twat claiming to be Villa Youth struck up convo with us about how they're going Arsenal tomorrow and it'll be a right tear up. With Arsenal. He then got all uppity telling us to ask around and people will know his name. At this point I used to, on occasion, drink with some of the old Zulu lot (who were about 25 years older than me!) due to an association with a bloke who ran some doors in Brum and was silent partnered with Cuddles. 

Long story short, he got mouthy so I decided Villa fan or not he was clearly a cnut so I shoved him over a table and told him the next time I put my hands on him he's going through the window. Quite reasonable I felt at the time seeing as he'd nearly ruined her night. The hardlad decided to leave because we were "villa fans and he doesn't fight his own"

I've met some old hooligans who are nice lads, but they aren't really footy fans at all.

The biggest night I experienced was the season after we had won the European Cup, the first leg against Juventus at Villa Park, this was the first time I ever needed a ticket to get in (25'000 was a big crowd back then) , it was a school night & me & my mate arrived at what we thought was a reasonable time to get in, we had a shock at the number of the people trying to get in.

We were "herded" by the Police horses but as we were still waiting to get in , there was a muffled cheer which could only mean Juve had scored.

On finally getting into The Holte, the only room left was right at the top right, I asked the chap next to me
"Who scored mate?"
"Me no speaka English" was the reply, "shit I thought" shuffling out of his way, I later learned Paulo Rossi had put the Italians ahead, their line up included Zoff, Gentile, Platini & Boniek, players I had watched on the tele in the 82 World Cup.
Cowans equalised, the surge forward, doubled up over the cow catchers, for a brief moment I couldn't get my breath, such was the crush.
Boniek went on to score the winner & although we lost, this evening stuck with me, even more so on ringing my old man to tell him we had missed the last bus home & could he give us a lift?
"Tough" he said, "walk", thirteen miles walk back to Brownhills was not what I had in mind, thanks Dad!
We lost the return leg 1-3 & we were out, we obviously haven't qualified for the competition since, but on that one night as defending champions, when The Holte sang
"We are by far the best team, the World has ever seen" it was true.