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Is it just me getting disillusioned with the game today. Back when I was growing up in the 60's watching the game it was so simple. There was no VAR, the offside rule simple and handball was handball, There was only one camera high up above the stands broadcasting, calm commentary from the likes of Brian Moore, Motson or Kenneth Wolstenholme dressed in sheepskins or heavy raincoats. Not a hint of some squeaky voiced dolly bird dressed in the latest fashion nodding furiously at every comment made by those who knew what they were talking about.
, The referees decision was final and the linesman generally so. Goalkeepers caught the ball and also took goal kicks unless injured. Players went down only if they had a broken leg and any other injury play was waved on until it went out of play. The object of the game was to score more goals than the opposition, none of this sideways, sideways, sideways and back, before sideways. sideways again. I remember the boos and the slow handclaps if they dared pass back to the keeper in those days.
And then there is the allure of the players themselves. Never mind the allure of going to the games to watch our own players, Bobby Moore, Geoff Hurst, Billy Bonds or Trevor Brooking, I would go to games to see the oppositions special attractions, The Stan Bowles, Rodney Marshes or the George Bests and Bobby Charltone. Even the lower teams like Spurs had their Jimmy Greaves, Burnley's Ralph Coates, or Leicester Citys Frank Worthington. Even goalkeepers would get me out on a freezing snow driven day like Pat Jennings, Gordon Banks or Peter Shilton. So many names from nearly all teams but there isn't a single Premier League player that would tempt me to part with my hard earned today.
Of course, I can't stop whinging without a mention to the sterilised grounds of today. The day the demolition of the Twin Towers of Wembley was the start of the rot in my opinion. Highbury, The original Den of Millwall, White Hart Lane and of course our own Boleyn Ground. Gone are the roasted peanuts, hot chestnuts braziers, burgers dripping in greasy fat and onions and the spit and sawdust pubs of the day. I won't mention the price match tickets these days. Corporate Hospitality? That was for those who had a seat wasn't it?
Anyone feel the same?








most of our generation do Deluded
I miss just going to a game no have you got a ticket booked nope just turned up paid on the gate and got in...nowadays it seems such a trial i just couldn't be bothered.
yes agree deluded
with out fear of being called an old codger they were the good old days and how i miss them singing on the bus or train going to the ground being diverted away from the away supporters when leaving and buying the evening news to read the reports of all the London sides,having a good drink down the old kent road getting home late at night to get up early to play club footy sunday mornings great times
Agree with all of the above,
Agree with all of the above, I'm firmly in the old codgers club. Most of all the simplicity of going to the match and knowing you were gonna see a game. Getting the train and tube to Upton Park. Not having to worry about a ticket. Just pay at the turnstile and away you went.
I touched on this previously one of my greatest ever memories was Dec 1979 on a Fri night watching us beat Cambridge Utd. I was in my usual place of the West Side near the Southbank corner. A bloke in front of me hopped over the hoarding ran to the centre circle. Dropped his pants and began dancing to Mike Oldfields Portsmouth. It was a full on blizzard. Never knew at the time that 11000 of us would create a lasting memory.
Where have all the good times gone??
I feel exactly the same,to go
I feel exactly the same,to go and see them players live was something else,i dont feel anything watching any player now,thats one of the reasons i threw the ticket in,i was getting more out of watching the bar maids in the pub.
Watching the barmaids Essex
Did they have two up front or like to play off of one another and slip one in when nobody else could see it?
Lol!!!! Love it Mac,with good
Lol!!!! Love it Mac,with good form and thighs.
Was she called Beertrix essex
Was she called Beertrix essex? On account of her balancing 2 pints of Watneys Special on her thrupenny bits and gripping 3 bags of cheese and onion between her beef curtains?
She reminded me of a set of
She reminded me of a set of spanners Boogers,she made my nuts go tight lol!!!!!
I reckon we're all around the
I reckon we're all around the same age bracket and nostalgia is a natural part of every day life ,we all look back on those days with joy ,to my shame , it must be 15 years or so since I attended a match ,bit to ancient to travel anymore ,I've lived on the west Coast of Ireland for nearly 50 years now ,but I will never forget those days ,I used to travel up from Kent on the train then the tube ,walk down Green st ,taking it all in, and at the end that bleedin never ending line for the tube . Nostalgia!!! ,what a beautiful thing it is .
Agreed Burkie, walking down
Agreed Burkie, walking down Green St from Upton Park tube was a special time. The badge and scarf sellers in front gardens, Queens Market, the boozer, Hamburger vans, programme sellers, the smell the sights, the songs. The crowd, the Police Horses. Glad to be a part of it for so many years and look back fondly...
I have a very serious regret
About that walk down Green Street from Upton Park. I never got to have a stop at the famous Kens Cafe. Every time it crossed my mind to stop there the place was heaving. A serious big mistake on my part. Should have gone in on non match days when I was there,
Another regret after a quick look on Google Maps shows me that the clock above Sycamore on the corner at Redclyffe Rd has gone. Many is the time I had a quiet chuckle at the slogan " Don't Kill Your Wife, Let Us Do It"
https://hammersintheheart.blogspot.com/2016/04/a-brief-history-of-kens-c...
Wouldnt it be good if we
Wouldnt it be good if we could all meet at up one day in a pub,have a few beers,we could put faces to the names,and thrash out our differences.