Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting
An unpublished chapter from my memoir Boy About Town.
This morning, by midday - it’s an early kick off for reasons that may become apparent - I will be at Selhurst Park for possibly the only time this season. It’s a match I could not miss: Crystal Palace vs. Millwall, in the 5th Round of the FA Cup. It’s a fixture I have attended before, as far back as 50 calendar years ago, as the story below lays out in graphic 1970s terrace detail. Today therefore seems the right occasion to publish my weekend post a day early. What follows for paid subscribers is a chapter that was excised from my memoir Boy About Town, my editor (fairly enough) noting that the book was primarily about my musical childhood and that this account of football, and its attendant violence of the era, was something of a tangent.
I trust it still makes for good reading, though - all of it written in the language of the author at the time, i.e. aged 11-12. Originally, it was positioned at Number 44 in the Top 50 countdown by which I presented my stories. If you have the book, you can always print it out and squeeze it in-between. If you don’t, you might be able to get it through the familiar channels. And if you don’t have the book and can’t get it, fear not: I will be republishing it myself shortly.
A reminder: paid subscriptions keep this page going. Seriously, I couldn’t maintain the pace otherwise. They are just $6/£5 a month, with 20% discount for a full year. You get the Crossed Channels podcast, ALL the archives, and occasional exclusive posts like this one. Thanks to those who took the leap and showed the faith. Enjoy…
NUMBER 44: SATURDAY NIGHT’S ALRIGHT FOR FIGHTING
Millwall were Crystal Palace’s closest neighbours, one of only two other South London teams in the Football League. They had a tough reputation, and when we were drawn against them in the second round of the FA Cup, ten days before Christmas 1975, none of my older friends talked about “taking” their end the way they did when we’d gone to places like Swindon and Gillingham and I’d been brought along for the ride. But still, we were Palace, and our away following dwarfed most club’s home crowds, Millwall’s paltry six thousand included. We’d be just fine.