GavinBelfast

I’ve been going to Linfield matches most of my life, I recall a few years where watching the Saturday afternoon wrestling show seemed more important though.
Some of my earliest memories are from Windsor Park and for someone with such a bad memory, I remember certain aspects very clearly.

I can still remember when the South Stand was two seperate stands, don’t think I was ever in the old part, (Balmoral Stand?), was cordened off at the time, I can remember the back of it for some reason, there was a set of concrete steps that led to a sort of pavillion that led to the seats and toilets, think that’s right.
I remember thinking it was really good being small cus I could near enough run under people instead of stand in queues to get in and out.

I remember when Windsor was still getting good crowds, the place felt packed, depending on who we were playing they’d sometimes open the Spion Kop to us, that was cool looking back now.

Under ya go!
Everyone has this one… Your da would make you crawl under the turnstile, or at away matches you’d be sent off to find a wall to climb over, if you couldn’t climb, tough, learn how to climb fatty.
As we got older we were forced to smuggle tins of beer into grounds, I think there was a few bottles of vodka stuffed into my keks too.


The GFC Matchball…
Love this one. Me and a current Linfield player retrieved a matchball off the roof of the Glenavon social club during a match and kept it. Fuckin amazing ball, proper Umbro job, worth about £60 in them days, heavy a fuck, lasted for years. We got a few others down the years, Ballyclare was a gift, Carrick too, I think we nabbed one from Omagh as well. Near got a crackin Mitre ball at Ballyskeagh but for two wee fuckers touting on me to the peelers, bet them bastards kept it too, black bastards!


The Distillery Corner Flags…
The day David Beckham scored that goal from the halfway line against Wimbledon, Linfield were playing Distillery (before they realised Lisburn was beside them) at Ballyskeagh, fuck knows what the score of our match was, was one of them “can’t be bothered” early season Ulster Cup group matches, anyway, as thieving wee fuckers from the Glencairn do, we decided, know what’d make good goal posts? Thon big corner flags. How good is that logic, really? So we wait to just before fulltime, mount the fence around the pitch and dog track, fulltime whistle blows, everyone starts leaving, we drop down onto the dog track like a coupole of fuckin ninjas and in broad daylight proceed to remove the corner flags, poles and the wee bit of material with “DFC” on it.


Don’t smoke blow and drink on the way to Coleraine when you’re 15…
Our wee supporters club was great, mostly cus my da and uncle ran most of it. We’d get at least a minibus for EVERY match apart from European away games.
This meant if we happened to be playing Coleraine on a Tuesday night in December, we’d be there, and we’d be drunk and more than likely stoned to the dick. When you’re 15, this probably isn’t a good thing. Again can’t remember any match details, we might’ve won 2-1, not sure.
The important thing is, when I returned from the burger van with food for the troops, I handed a burger over to my uncle and promptly vomited all over the place, really loud and really noticable, so noticable that the Coleraine supporters at the other end of the ground fuckin’ cheered at it! Needless to say, school the next day was pure hell.


The Forrest Gump of Portadown….
For some reason the Linfield supporters buses would get bricked while leaving Portadown after matches at Shamrock Park so one time we decided to make the bus driver stop so we could get out and chase the bastards that were doing it. This the same time I’d really fucked my ankle up playing football so I was walking with a serious limp. So the Glencairn/Ballysillan Linfield Supporters Club mobilize, chasing the fuckers through a load of trees beside some estate, full Vietnam style. I wasn’t missing this show so I go too, only limping like a fucker. The brickers are gone so we all head back to the bus but because of my gimped ankle I’m last back, coming out of the trees hobbling, panting and sweating, Maxie’s waiting at the door of the bus and shouts “Hurry the fuck up Forrest Gump!”…. Bastard!


Clifton Street Ambush….
Used to get bricked passing Clifton Street, you can see where this is going. Not me this time thankfully. Again, the bus stops, empties, the rats scatter, where’s Maxie? Chasing after 2 of the wee fuckers down an entry, 20 seconds later he reappears and fuck, I’ve never seen the man move so fast in all my life, 10 or 15 dirtbags appear about 10 meters behind him, fully ambushed Bob, fully.

There’s tons more of these memories, stuff I either can’t remember clearly enough or stuff where it’s probably better I don’t post.