Millwall away 1978 – How it was, when it was

It is 19th august 1978 and first game of the season, at that time, following Newcastle United was for most part a depressing business, as we had just been relegated and the heart and soul of the famous old stadium had been ripped out a few months earlier with the demolition of the Leazes End.

It is fair to say that all was not good (when was it ever?) for anyone of a black and white persuasion, well not quite everyone.

Me as an excitable 14 year old had a few days earlier picked up his first membership for the Newcastle United Supporters Club.

The Tuesday before had seen me and a mate head down to the Bridge Hotel to pick up our memberships and bus tickets, I can remember walking down from Eldon Square bus station with my pocket money hidden deep in pockets, thinking what a dark scary part of town it was with the shadow filled arches and dimly lit streets, far from what it is today. Upstairs we go and within minutes we had our £4.40 Armstrong Galley bus tickets and shiny new memberships, I could not wait until Saturday.

At school the next day bragging to jealous friends that we were off to the match on Saturday in London, until one of the teachers said with a sinister grin ‘you do know you are going to Millwall don’t you…’

Now in those days footie violence was rife and I had only been to a couple of away games, Boro in 1976 and Sunderland in 1977 and of course we had huge followings, but I was at the infamous Forest game in 74 (my dad took me home as the pitch invasion started) and also the cup game against Man City up here in 1977 where again there was major trouble, so I had seen it close up, but as a fearless 14 year old I hadn’t thought about Millwall at all.

So Saturday comes and I can vaguely remember getting a lift to town at something like 5am where we headed to Morden Street armed with a carrier bag full of sandwiches and pop to wait for the buses. Morden Street, for those who are interested, is behind the Percy where the multi storey car park is today, the buses duly arrive and it seemed about five had been fully booked and within minutes we are on our way for a long but uneventful journey that saw us reach the outskirts of London just after midday.

I thought we had arrived and was gibbering away… until told to shut up by the rather rotund steward as navigating London would take quite a while, at this point people were talking about this fearsome reputation that surrounded Millwall and the name ‘Harry the Dog’ was mentioned several times.

It all meant nothing to me, it was my first ‘proper’ away game. Anyway, when we got near to the Old Den the buses pulled over onto some wasteland and we were told to wait… and wait…. .and wait, the other Armstrong Galleys had arrived but still we were told to wait, apparently other buses were being directed to the same place, at 2pm (ish) it seems we were ready to move and were told the buses would be escorted and drop us as near as possible to the ground where we would then be escorted on foot.

So off we go and apart from a few V signs from locals there was nothing remotely scary, suddenly the buses stop and its on foot from here, except there was no police escort at all, just a few on duty officers standing about, we were simply pointed in the general direction and told it’s everyone for themselves.

You now have five or six coach loads of fans of varying ages and needs, needs meaning some went to the nearest pub, some separated off to walk quietly, while some were quite simply ‘up for it’. As excitable as we were, we decided to stay with the numbers and walking to the ground was also uneventful, in fact we did not see many home fans until we were inside, where was this reputation?

Plenty Newcastle fans had travelled by other means and it would seem those that came by train had faced a few problems, there were also plenty latecomers, which seemed the norm in those days. The match itself was disappointing, we lead at half time through a Dave Barton header but succumbed in the second half and we lost 2-1.

After the game we were kept in for an age before being let out and I was soon to find out what Millwall was about. The police were trying to split us into two groups, buses and trains, but for what seemed like an age we were being being showered with bottles, bricks and coins from our London friends, who the police were struggling to keep back.

To make matters worse (or better, depending on your ideals) there were plenty within in our numbers who were more than game, in later years I was to see many of these faces at away matches, huge fearless blokes who were game for anything, and sure enough the police cordon broke and dozens ran straight toward the Millwall fans who took off in the opposite direction, and this was how it was until we got back to the buses. A shower of missiles being followed by our lot setting off after them, it must have happened half a dozen times, it was bedlam and chaos and seemed to go on for ages, for a 14 year old it was intoxicating, until disaster nearly struck, a stray coin hit me just above my right eye and there was a bit of blood, a sense of realisation dawned on me and while I had a battle scar to show my friends at school I could easily have lost an eye.

We got back on the buses and there was a large if unsympathetic police presence, their remit was to get us out of the way as soon as possible, and indeed that’s what happened, as soon as the buses were filled they were off under police escort away from the area. Of course for a few minutes the odd missile was still thrown, but our bus remained unscathed, others were not so lucky as we saw one with a side window totally gone.

An uneventful but long journey was had home and we arrived back in Newcastle at about midnight, when I got home I checked my wound, would I need the ‘badge of honour’ stitches? In fact it was a very minor cut but still could have been a whole lot worse, however, I had to keep it ‘unhealed’ until school on Monday where I could tell tales topped up with masses of exaggeration.

I went to the Old Den a couple of times after, the promotion season in ’93 where we had about 4,000 there and I can remember a very hostile atmosphere. Also a game in 1988 where it seemed every nutcase and fruit bap from up here had decided to go, a game which was infinitely more lively off the pitch than it was on the pitch, as the then Sports Minister Colin Moynihan will testify as his corporate portakabin was set alight by our lot. In fact, I think because of the numbers waiting outside, we were taken to the other end of the ground to be let out to fool the waiting Millwall masses.

These days I work a lot in London and know quite a few Millwall fans, all good blokes but who still take pride in their reputation. Easy to wind up though when I tell them them my version of the times we went to the Old Den. Of course, none of them have ever been to St James’ Park and that is how it was back in the day, they seldom travel very far and in any great numbers, apart from the odd notable exception.

So come on someone, remind me of the 4-0 defeat in 1988…. That was the day it really went off!