February 19 2006

The Den

Jamesey left the New Den after our 1-1 draw feeling sad... and not just because we squandered what would have been a priceless victory in the last minute of ordinary time.

At London Bridge I was wondering who the cheerful and noisy fans in red and white were. Then I realised it was Brentford on their way to Charlton for a Cup game which they unfortunately lost. Hard luck, fellers. If only.

As far as my personal day went, the answer is badly.

I have been going to Millwall derbies away for several decades now although I did cease attending in some periods when hooliganism of the physical type made it a risky business.

I thought the move to give unreserved seats in the Upper North was quite a good idea, in principle. But when you apparently over-sell tickets so that there are too many supporters looking for seats and having to stand in the aisles, perhaps it is not such a great idea.

And, of course, because fans were standing in the aisles and many of our own supporters were determined to stand themselves, I had to bloody well stand for the whole game. Not so good for my arthritic old legs. But who cares, eh?

Why do we bother to try and improve English football, with well designed all-seater stadia when idiots still insist on standing? And there was a totally absent stewarding presence (unlike Sheffield Wednesday at Hillsborough last week) to tell anyone to sit down.

Now, I am not naive enough to expect Millwall away to be like a vicar's tea-party. But the level of Palace obscene chanting and gestures far outdid any game I have ever been to at the Den, old or new.

There were young children and old ladies who were subjected to this and looking round at some of my fellow Palace supporters' rabid faces, contorted with hatred, I began to wonder whether I was in the Millwall area.

Perhaps the supporters who brought families and young kids to the game imagined we were high enough in the evolutionary scale, as a civilised and family-orientated football club, that they would not have to listen to, or observe, such nastiness. Weren't they wrong!

You can be loud and proud without being verminous and disgusting.

Just because we were playing a load of Stone Age retards doesn't mean we have to behave like them.

A few morons behind me screamed "ref, you're a f***ing c***," every time the official gave the Lions a free-kick. Terribly witty.

And getting mugged in the last minute just about put the seal on it.

Barman, another double vodka, please...

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