First of all, a bit of perspective. The previously perfectly healthy 23 year old son of one of the mates I sit with, who usually also sits with us, is in intensive care with heart failure believed to be brought on by long Covid. However terrible last night’s match v ‘Boro was, I’m sure he’d have loved to be there.
That said, what a truly horrible night. On the way in, Mick had met a Boro fan and told him “You’re in real trouble if you can’t beat us.”
”I’d say the same,” replied the visitor.
We’re in proper trouble.
Matches v Boro always bring back a few memories. For reasons best known to herself, my Mum chose the 29th March 1978 to finally gave in to incessant pestering to let me travel on the Forestrail with some older lads off our road. This was a midweek match, which entailed her sending in a sick-note to school. I remember very little about it, but a quick check now shows it was a 2-2- draw in front of twenty-five and a bit thousand at Ayresome Park.
I went back to Ayresome a few times after and always liked it in a weird, rather grim sort of way. A proper ground. I recall another midweek match there and being stood in front of the legend that was Paul Scarrott. Back then, Scarrott was tagged in the media as ”Britain’s Most Notorious Football Thug”, perhaps best known for threatening to use tear gas in riots at the World Cup and his bottom-lip Forest tattoo. I can’t claim to have known him, but media reporting of his sad demise, dying broke and alcoholic and living under an assumed name in Benidorm, looks horribly celebratory and gloating. Many of those who did know him paint a picture of a volatile character, capable of humour and random acts of kindness to others and I know there will be those who mourn him.
I was also at Ayresome on the tragic day in 1980 when violence took the life of 17 year old Boro fan, Craig French. Craig had watched the match from the Clive Road End and got swept up in a vicious brawl between about 200 Boro and Forest fans. He died in hospital from injuries caused by a blow to the head. A witness reported him being on the floor taking a terrible kicking. A number of Forest fans, who reportedly had travelled ‘under cover’ on a ‘battle bus’ were arrested and charged, including one who was sentenced to 4 years for manslaughter. As with so many of these tragedies, there was a terrible irony in that Craig, a quiet lad by all accounts, had more or less given up football because of the potential for trouble and also to save up to get married the next year.
Different stories, may both be resting in peace.
Of course, it is impossible to think of Boro without thinking of the spiritual home of one Brian Howard Clough - a statue of Cloughie can be found in Albert Park there. He was born at 11 Valley Road, sixth of nine children and enjoyed a childhood he repeatedly described as “heaven”. He went on to play for Boro 213 times from 1955 to 61, scoring an astonishing 197 goals. As much of a legend there perhaps as he is to us in Nottingham.
Quite what BHC would have made of last night’s fiasco, God alone knows. He famously expected players to be able to do the basics well and there looked no one in a red shirt capable of that last night. We can’t even take a proper throw-in. John McGovern tells a story of Cloughie threatening to hook off a player who had taken an aimless long throw down the line. “One more time and you’re fucking off, son.” Now we do it every single time.
What we ended up with was a home crowd taking the piss out of its own players: Olé when we managed to string a succession of pointless sideways passes together; responding to Boro fans taunts with “It’s only 1-0, how shit are you?” and “You’re nothing special, we lose every week,”; joining in with “sacked in the morning” and “going down, going down, going down”.
When Boro scored, a decent goal to be fair, I don‘t think anyone even flinched; it’s come to be expected. In line with my stated “if you can’t say something nice…” philosophy here, I’m not going to get into slagging individuals (there’s all you need of that on Twitter!), but they all need to take a long, hard look at themselves as professional footballers. And sorry, Man Utd fans, but we seem to have broken poor James Garner. I’m sure he’s a talented player, but we’re not doing him any good, surely. Ironically, given the amount of celebration online at dropping out-of-form keeper Brice Samba, to bring in recent signing Ethan Horvath, a horrible howler from the latter gifted Boro their second. It’s just so Forest.
On the final whistle, the few that were left in the ground seemed apathetic - notable exception the enraged guy in the Peter Taylor Stand who went into a fabulous, “We‘re not Olympiacos reserves” rant towards the Directors Box.
Will the manager be there at the end of the day? it seems unlikely. A fundamentally decent man and it can’t be entirely his fault we’re saddled with such a poor side, but the style of play is unwatchable and he could surely have addressed that. It says it all that the bed sheet hung out on the Clough Stand even managed to spell his name wrong…
Spot the difference. On so many levels!
All very depressing - but hey - young Mikey coming up to NTU tomorrow - a fresh start is what is required - new impetus - new hope