Football Loyalty is misplaced

By Simon Wright

 April 26 1986 was one of the great days to be a Halesowen Town follower.  The Vase holders were back at Wembley defending their trophy, and defended it brilliantly. After defeating Southall 3-0, the Cup was back on the team coach heading back to the Black Country.  I was in North London for that extraordinary day.  Only I was at Highbury, not Wembley.

I hadn’t missed a WBA game for 5 seasons.  Every fixture, home and away including friendlies. I was the fanzine editor, Argus columnist, on the WBASC committee etc, with proper full-on support. I could never see that changing. I was openly scornful of apathetic people who stopped going just because they’d lost ten games in a row.  85/86 was a horrible year to support the Baggies with only 4 League wins all season. The side included a very young Carlton Palmer and even a very raw Steve Bull.

I lived in Halesowen and the odd midweeker to see the Town in action was a treat. In those pre-Sky, pre international break day, opportunities were limited. The annual 3 games a week end of season backlog offered the best opportunity.  The Joinson twins were guaranteed to entertain, so too Russ’s dad “Penna”.  I had it in my head defender Mark Penn was tall but alongside the twins, everyone looks tall.  They were backed up by Malcolm Hazelwood and the buzzing Stew Moss in the middle. Every direction l looked at the Grove or at away games, I saw WBA people just as enraptured.  A win was nailed on. A win with style was expected too and delivered.   I had no complaints with Halesowen Town.  They were my footballing cream cake.

 Until the Cup Final and a set of unfortunate circumstances. In 1986, executive coaches with video, reclining seats, wider aisles, coffee machine and toilets were very rare.  The WBA Supporters Club had a contract with National Express for use of their then cutting-edge Rapides. They had just one at their Edgbaston depot as most of the new fleet were in London. Its comfort and style offered consolation after yet another loss. The vehicle offered much the same as the team coach.

A “prominent very local senior official” on the WBA Supporters Club committee decided he was organising a coach to Wembley. Zealots like myself were unimpressed when he touted for passengers at Albion events.   There was no evidence he could even name a Halesowen player yet here he was encouraging supporters not to travel to Arsenal with WBA.

There was worse. Said official contacted National Express for a vehicle.  The coach company gave him the Rapide.  With hindsight, that was wholly the company’s fault. “Gloryhunters stole our @@@@ coach” was one of the milder reactions.

Come the Final day and a solitary WBA coach picked up across Stourbridge and Halesowen. This was a Bowens vehicle as National Express were dumped for their discourtesy. Its 30 odd inhabitants were not enamoured by the hordes wearing Halesowen Town gear all-round the town.  I kept quiet.  The coach party made up about one third of the total away support at Arsenal. Many of the rest were London Exiles. Relegation had come several weeks previously. Happily, West Brom scored twice in the last ten minutes to pinch a 2-2 draw. That lifted everyone’s mood even in a dead rubber game.

 On the way back, we passed many coachloads of Halesowen watchers. And then we saw the Rapide. Somebody had to be blamed for Albion’s all-round imbroglio and the “coach stealers” would do nicely.  As we drew alongside the Rapide, there was real venom aimed at its occupants. Accusations of theft, gloryhunting and umm “committing unnatural practices” were screamed through the windows, accompanied by finger gestures.  I was as guilty as anyone else. I was only young (26).  It felt cathartic but if you were one of the startled Rapide occupants on that day, I do apologise. I thought differently in those days.

Fast forward a lot of years.  To be precise, April 29 2023.   The Yeltz were doing battle v Spalding in the Step 4 Play-Off Final.  The all-or-nothing fixture sold out quickly.  I’m barely 100 steps from the turnstiles and I was off to the game. But not that one.  Instead, I was heading with Frank Williams to Blyth Spartans. As you do. 

Obligation, the nagging cousin of loyalty, came into play.   Frank’s station, Radio Hereford FC, had covered every game including friendlies that season so the final fixture also had to be covered.  The audience wanted a service.    As I was picked up at 8.30am, I did look across to the Grove and think “why am I doing this?”  I was at the Semi-Final too..

 Many hours later, Frank and I manhandled the kit into Blyth’s main stand. Spartans had to win to stay up. For Hereford, this was a routine end of season 14-hour slog.   Except it wasn’t.  Even though we were media, we were not supposed to know that the new manager told the squad two days earlier that they were all leaving.  We were tipped off by the grim-faced video analysis crew who were also given the chop and didn’t care who they told. Key players developed a mysterious injury and didn’t travel.  Those that did get on the coach were clearly disinterested.  Blyth strolled to a 2-0 lead by half time and found even more space in the second half to complete an embarrassing 5-0.  

On the radio, we could only report what we saw, not what we knew. I’ve never had such a wretched afternoon on air. There was probably no audience left by mid- second half. To keep talking was tough enough. Trying to be “upbeat and positive” as the club contract insisted was beyond us, especially with celebrating home supporters all round.  The last minutes ticked by very slowly.  Our post-match analysis lasted less than 20 seconds.

Retreating to the bar, we looked silently into our beer as the locals capered about around us.  A tedious 4-hour journey home awaited.  Text news that Jamie Insall put away the winner for Halesowen helped a little but we were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Contrast this with the memorable day at the Grove. You were there.  “A fantastic spectacle of a game this is due to be” exulted commentary supremo Matt Ponter back in the Black Country.  And he was right.  

Life is short.  You don’t get many chances to be part of history.  Loyalty is a tired old concept these days, especially loyalty to bigger football club. They don’t notice, let alone care.  Go with your gut, go with what feels right.