Brighton & Hove Albion

Vicente: From the Mestalla to Falmer

The year is 1997 and on England’s South Coast, things are far from sunny, writes David Hartrick.

Brighton and Hove Albion are facing an uncertain future as the Goldstone Ground has been sold as a result of an asset strip from a board led by a man with little to no regard for the club. On the pitch, elimination from the Football League has only just been avoided on the last day of the season in a dramatic game between the 91st and 92nd placed teams in English football. While some bemoan the fall from grace of a side who just 14 years previously were in Division One as well as being FA Cup finalists, others more in the know are silently concerned that the club is on the verge of tumbling into the abyss forever.

Meanwhile in Spain, Levante Unión Deportiva are playing in the Segunda División and embarking on a season that will eventually finish in relegation. Despite what will prove to be an ultimately disappointing campaign, one of the high points is a promising debut by Vicente Rodríguez Guillén. Destined to become more simply known as ‘Vicente’, at the age of just 16 several of Europe’s scouts are purring over the left-winger and he is immediately installed in the Spanish national team’s youth set-up, making his debut at U16 level and going on to also play in the U17, U18 and U21 teams in the next two years.

Fast-forward to the year 2000 and a new millennium is here. Vicente has continued to impress and grow as a player, helping to steer Levante back into the Segunda División at the first time of asking and then to a comfortable 7th place finish. He is the standout performer at the club, destined for bigger things and a move to Champions League runners-up and Supercopa winner’s Valencia is made.

Despite Kily González standing in his way Vicente forces his way into the first team and hits the ground running. In his first season he helps Valencia reach another Champions League final that disappointingly he spends on the bench watching them lose to Bayern Munich on penalties. He has already shown signs that the left-wing berth will be his long-term, he is now on a mission to prove it.

Back in England there are green shoots of recovery in Brighton as a consortium led by Dick Knight has chased the businessmen out of Albion’s boardroom and replaced them with people who care about the club’s future. After leaving the Goldstone in 1997, two seasons have been spent laughably calling Gillingham’s Priestfield Stadium ‘home’ as the club has been forced to play their games at the ground, a mere 150 mile round trip from Brighton itself.

The 1999-2000 season sees a return to the city at the far from perfect Withdean Stadium but it brings a long-sought sense of hope and by the turn of the millennium, a small amount of pride is returning to the club. In February of 2000 they make their own move for a youngster and sign an unproven striker named Bobby Zamora. Brighton once again feels like a club with a future.

Journeying through time again to 2004 and Brighton and Hove Albion have been making headlines for their football as well as their finances. A double promotion with Zamora at the head of a bristling and industrious side had brought hope, relegation from Division One (now the Championship) a brief bump back down to earth. However, bubbling behind every move the club makes is the saga that’s slowly beginning to define its existence - the move to get planning permission to build a new and permanent home in Falmer.

A fight is raging between Lewes’s District Council and local residents potentially affected by the proposal, and the club’s board and fans led by Dick Knight’s determination to get the plans through. Having been through the courts and still with no resolution imminent, the government itself is being called in to intervene and Brighton’s long-term future once again rests with people with no direct investment in the club or its future. Another promotion to the newly named Championship is earned via the Play-Offs but the doubts remain, the Withdean is a short-term solution and without a permanent home, Brighton still feel like nomads in their own city.

In Spain Vicente had easily become one of La Liga’s top performers over the last three seasons and had just recorded his best ever campaign, tearing apart defences across the country and into Europe as Valencia won the title, the UEFA Cup and the UEFA Super Cup. He returns 14 goals in a season that sees every major club in Europe linked to his signature, he is by now established in the full national side having played in every game of Spain’s poor Euro 2004 tournament in Portugal, and his magnificent season is suitably rewarded by his club with a new contract and mountains of praise from his normally reserved manager Rafael Benítez.

Despite signing a four-year extension with a suitable pay hike included, with Ryan Giggs’s form supposedly waning at Old Trafford and a more central role beckoning, many are sure that Vicente would provide Manchester United’s attacking thrust from the left-wing at some point in the very near future.

And so we come to 2011, to today, and to Brighton and Vicente’s improbable marriage sealed with a one-year contract formally signed on the 2nd of September of this year.

Brighton’s long battle to gain planning permission was finally won in 2007 and Vicente’s new home was not the athletics stadium butchered into shape enough to host Football League games at Withdean, but the £105m Falmer site now with naming rights sold and resplendent in it’s guise as the American Express Community Stadium. With a capacity of 22,500 and with new chairman Tony Bloom and now ‘Club President for Life’ Dick Knight’s vision complete, the necessary icing on the cake for any truly great football story had come in the form of manger Gus Poyet leading Brighton from the League One wilderness back to the Championship in title-winning style in their last season at Withdean.

Vicente’s career undoubtedly stalled from that truly wonderful 2003-04 season with Valencia thanks to a combination of ankle injuries and what he claimed were incorrect treatments and diagnosis from medical staff. While each comeback has showed the capabilities of a truly gifted player, the body has broken down each time and failed the spirit. As Brighton took the 2010-11 League One title playing arguably the most entertaining brand of football ever employed by an Albion side, Vicente was preparing for an inevitable exit from a club he admitted to loving. At the age of 29 a player who had been potentially one of Europe’s best left-sided midfielders found himself without a club and desperate to shake off the injury-prone tag he felt he didn’t deserve.

As a Brighton fan, Vicente’s signing felt like ‘that’ moment in a recent history filled with an almost unheard of amount of joy. This is without any shadow of doubt a player of such talent he could be gracing far bigger stages but he chose to rebuild his career with us. This is our Robert Prosinečki to Portsmouth moment, the realization that you’ve got a player so unlikely you find yourself casting furtive glances left and right looking for the wind-up to end. Whether his career at Brighton ultimately proves to be a success or failure, his hero status was all but sealed the moment he picked us as his new employers.

With a new stadium, a city back in love with the game, one of the most sought-after young managers in the English leagues and now a player with La Liga, Champions League and international pedigree to call our own, this is a very special time to be a Brighton fan. Having weathered the storms of the nineties to emerge happy to still have a club to call our own, then spent the noughties biting fingernails through legal battles and potential rain at the horrifically exposed Withdean, this feels like it just might be our time.

Do we want to storm into the Premier League and start challenging for Europe immediately? No. A trouble free few seasons enjoying mid-table, non-headline baiting campaigns in the Championship and financial parity would do just fine.

As for Vicente?

Well he just might be here on loan to us for a year before a bigger club realises we’ve got him but do you know what, I’m going to enjoy every minute.

----------------------------

David Hartrick is an editor at In Bed With Maradona and author of the soon to be released '50 Teams That Mattered'.

This article originally appeared in the first edition of Spiel Magazine. Simply click here to purchase Issue #2

Photo credit: Paul Hazlewood

Brighton & Hove Albion v Crystal Palace - The thoughts of Kevin Day

Brighton & Hove Albion v Crystal Palace - The thoughts of Kevin Day....

Brighton entertain their fiercest rivals Crystal Palace tomorrow for the first time in six years. European Football Weekends has one foot in the Brighton camp. On the other side of the fence is Match of the Day 2 regular, Kevin Day....

I just want to get this over with now. I've been as nervous as Ryan Giggs in a newsagent for the past six weeks and I never get nervous because I'm old enough to believe that football is just a game. But this one is so not  just a game.  So I just want to take the inevitable stuffing, turn the  phone off and hide under the duvet until the seaweed fans switch their gloating searchlights elsewhere - and if you think the eye of Sauron is an unforgiving and exhausting gaze, it's nothing to what Palace fans have been subjected to from the smugness of Sussex recently.

And if that strikes you as a tone of weary resignation then congratulations, you've caught the mood of Palace fans.  Our away form is dismal:  the defeat at Doncaster being the latest proof that Palace could make a fortune by hiring themselves out to shit teams desperate for a win.  And although our financial fortunes have improved, the seaweed are officially on a roll.  They've got a brand new environmentally friendly stadium powered solely by self-righteousness (I'm not saying it's middle class but I believe Sandi Toksvig is the pitch announcer).  They've got money to burn and a team playing free flowing attractive football.  Not only that, but they seem to be in the wank bank of every journalist and pundit south of the river - I have been told off many times for shouting "get a room" at Steve Claridge as he bats his eyelashes and tells us how brilliant and gorgeous Brighton are.

"But Kevin” I hear you say (and I really do hear you, the voices in my head won't go away until this is over),  "Why such bitterness about a team that play fifty miles away from you?"  It is odd that they are our bitterest rivals.  Millwall and Charlton carry on their scrap dealing ways unhindered by our contempt, they don't even register.   It's all reserved for Brighton. And the odd thing is, it's all so new.  It's only since an FA Cup game that went to a third replay at Stamford Bridge in 1975, that this passion has been unleashed.  I was there, it was one of my first 'away' matches a kid and I still remember Alan Mullery's face contorted with rage, attempting to confront Palace fans, which being Alan Mullery he obviously failed to do (if I was the Navy Seal that found Bin Laden and Mullery was next to him, I would have been in a real pickle).

Both teams were in the old Third Division then and got promoted and relegated together in several seasons to come.  Within five seasons it became a lifelong enmity and some of the pre and post match fighting was horrendous (and let's face it, out of character, neither team had any sort of reputation for trouble).

I'm also aware that dispassionately, the Brighton story is a good one. A team saved from oblivion, travelling from ground to ground, being refused permission to come home then returning triumphant to their own
patch.  A romantic football lover like me should be all over that.  But I can't be dispassionate about them. Especially not when people I never knew were Brighton fans have crawled out of the woodwork to tweet and
text me about how good they are.  My God, I wish I had gloated when they were two divisions below us and really shit, but I didn't because Palace fans are too nice.  And now it's too late. We're going to lose
and they are going to gloat.

Like this? You might like the EFW interview with Kevin Day

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Brighton & Hove Albion v Doncaster Rovers

A Swash Buckley Homecoming

Brighton & Hove Albion 2-1 Doncaster Rovers (06:08:11)

14 years ago Brighton & Hove Albion played Doncaster Rovers in the last ever game at the Goldstone Ground. Fast forward to the present day, and they were at it again - for the first ever league game at The American Express Community Stadium. EFW favourite, Larry from Lancing was there.....

Beginning a sentence “no disrespect but...”, usually means one thing. It’s one of football’s clichés that is carelessly trotted out, usually just as reputations are shown to matter little when it comes to 90 minutes on a pitch. Let’s turn this particular football speak nonsense upside down, give it a good shake and come up with a new take on it.

First weekend of the football season and whilst the premiership nambie pambies are having their toe nails painted, hair weaves shampooed and  conditioned and snoods fitted , the Football League gets under way with some crackerjack fixtures and EFW has given me the tough job of picking out the days top Championship game to christen the new season properly.

So, no disrespect to former double champions of Europe Nottingham Forest, or to World Cup winners West Ham United, or to self appointed Champions of Europe Leeds United, or to kings of the Football League Derby County or even to recent Premiership entertainers Blackpool, but there is no Championship club we would rather be watching on August 6th than Doncaster Rovers. Other than of course Brighton & Hove Albion, who by fate, fortune or fix, Rovers happen to be playing in the first league fixture at Brighton’s brand spanking, shiny, bouncy new stadium. Why a fix you ask? More of that in a minute. By the way, I happen to think it’s all three, fate, fortune and fix that is. Any type of fixing in football is of course wrong and should be shooed out like the bad smell it is, let’s call this fix the exception that proves the rule.

Rovers have heroically established themselves as a good Championship side; it wasn’t always like that though. Doncaster Rovers are quite possibly unique amongst professional clubs in having been eclipsed by their female counterparts for much of the 1990’s. The Belles would regularly give their male counterparts the run around in pre-season kick abouts and it’s a little known fact that several of the ladies did on occasions turn out for the male squad. It was the eagle eyes of a Stockport County kit man who first spotted something suspicious afoot and raised the alarm when he saw chest wigs being laid out with the players’ kit alongside the sock garters and jock straps. He was only prevented from blowing the whistle by a proposition from three of the said ladies which was believed to be too good to turn down for a divorced, balding and overweight 58 year old Stockport kit man. Suffice to say it put a spring in his step, once he could walk properly again, and another footballing scandal was effectively covered up, up until now that is.  

Why does this fixture have a whiff of the fix about it? Well, if awarding Qatar the World Cup was a fix that stinks of 10 week old rotten horse manure then this particular fix smells of the sweetest English rose. It’s not often you’ll hear these words, so sit back, raise a glass and give three hearty cheers for the authorities for adding a bit of good old fashioned romance and poignancy to the opening day Championship fixtures. Who would have thought that the cold, grey plastic lump of techno wizardy that sends Carlisle to Torquay on Boxing Day has indeed a beating heart full of kindness and sentimentality. Fourteen very long years ago Doncaster Rovers were the last visitors to the Goldstone Ground. What happened that day, and in the years after, meant that there was only one team many Brighton officials and fans had on their list for sharing the first competitive fixture at their new stadium.

Fourteen years on it is only thanks to the passion and dedication of both sets of fans that either club exists at all. What’s more, this is a Championship fixture in front of a 22,500 sell out and comes just twelve years after both clubs were slugging it out to see who was the most inept side to grace the professional game. A battle Donny won as despite Brighton’s best efforts they could only manage 91st position two years running, whilst Rovers comfortably held on to the coveted 92nd spot.

To say the stakes were high fourteen years ago would be underplaying the occasion. On that day there were four possible results; a win for either side, a draw and if things went horribly wrong the possibility that for the second year in a row a match could be abandoned at the Goldstone.

Defeat for the Albion would have meant probable relegation to the Conference, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the thought of having to travel 90 miles to play home games in another county. Of the grounds and towns within a 90 mile radius they chose Gillingham. I know, it gets worse doesn’t it. I’m no Einstein and my mathematic ability doesn’t stretch much beyond working out goal difference, but I think the equation of non-league football + playing at Gillingham + no hope + probably no players would have equalled the end of Brighton & Hove Albion.

On a moody, grey, rain soaked and emotionally charged April afternoon the players and supporters of Doncaster Rovers earned their place in Brighton folklore. In a show of solidarity and decency they not only let us win a dreadful game 1-0, they stood up for those who were battling to save a football club. In a gesture which today would no doubt be adjudged as bringing the game into disrepute, the Donny team paraded a banner before the game which powerfully and simply read “Rovers players salute Brighton fans.”  That image can still bring a tear to the eye today.

*wipes away tear* (photograph: Tim Colville)

Tears o'clock. Again. 

The solidarity shown by a fellow club was all the more real as they knew Brighton were suffering a fate that could befall any number of clubs. At the time honoury membership of Clubs in Crisis was limited to a select few, how that has changed as clubs from across the footballing pyramid have clamoured to join the crisis club. Some through greed, some through over ambitious chairman, some through the collapse of TV deals; all share one common factor and that is it’s the fans who suffer the most. Players move on, bent chairman find the next scam.

The footballing world, like the world outside, has certainly spun on its axis over these last 14 years. Down in the basement league that year who were the top two? Why, say hello to established Premiership outfits Wigan and Fulham. Dicky Bird and Parky shed Tetley tears as Barnsley clinched a place in the top flight. Who were up there in the top 10 of the Premiership? None over than Wimbledon, not AFC, not MK, just good old Wimbledon. And to go off piste for just a second, a big welcome back to the league fort the proper Wombles this season. Just to re-assure you though that the World hasn’t completely turned upside down; Man United and Arsenal were top and second.

The story then jumps from April’97 to Valentine’s Day February’98 and Fans United mark 2. Who said romance was dead? My missus did when I told her I was off to Gillingham to watch the 91st and 92nd placed teams in the football league compete for the unofficial title of the most bobbins team in the league. Naturally enough it was a 0-0 draw. That Saturday, as with every Saturday, it’s fair to say that beer had been taken. My recollection of events may therefore be somewhat cloudy, so let’s take a peep at what the erstwhile journos of the papers made of this particular affair...

The Guardian opened up with the line “When God created Gillingham he had misery in mind.” Can’t disagree with that. “Dickens knew what he was doing when he chose it as the setting for Great Expectations, a story of arson, betrayal and thwarted desire – subjects the fans of Doncaster and Brighton could all write books about.” Funnily enough, they did! Onto the football then...”The football hardly matters when your club is one step from oblivion, it didn’t. It was woeful.”

Now for my favourite bit, and for the kids this is truly how madcap life following the Albion and Donny was: “Love was in the air. Both sets of terraces serenaded each other, players threw roses into the crowd, rival fans exchanged bouquets and kisses and pop star Louise, squeeze of Liverpool’s Jamie Redknapp, sent her best: ‘Jamie has my heart but Seagulls have my soul.’ Page 3 model Jordan posed in a Brighton shirt. Her message to the players less lyrical, ‘keep your peckers up!’ It was as surreal as the February sunshine...” Keep your pecker up, it’s no wonder pop poet Peter Andre left her if that is what he was serenaded with. After wooing her with mysterious girl you’d think he’d be after a bit more creativity than keep your pecker up.

Poyetry in motion. 

The Times dispatched Lynne Truss with her bag full of apostrophes and commas to cover the game: “In terms of footie symbolism, then, it was a strange, complicated day and one wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. With a crowd of 6,339 turning up here was excellent gung-ho support for the ‘culture’ of football, alongside one of the most pitiful displays of the sport I’ve seen.”

To be honest it’s a shame there had to be a game of football to ruin the fun. Both teams should have run on the pitch – a quick lap of honour, shake hands and call it a draw. We could have been back in the pub by 3.10 and I don’t think anyone would have complained.

That day the football didn’t matter. What mattered was that the people of Brighton and Doncaster decided to fight for the survival of their clubs and refused to give up on the hope that there was a way through the carnage and turmoil. Football United will never be defeated. Only the desperate know how real the struggle can be, that’s why fan campaigns to oust the Glazers or other premiership owners will not succeed – life there is too comfortable. The class of ’97 and ’98 take a bow, without you there would be no 2011 opening day celebrations.

This was my third visit to the new ground, and as 80’s electro outfit Depeche Mode would say “I just can’t get enough.” It still feels unreal sitting there, in a ground which I honestly thought would never be built.

I say new ground as I’m not sure yet what I’m going to call it. The branding and marketing men want it called the American Express Community Stadium. You might get club officials clumsily trotting that out at press conferences, but let’s be honest it doesn’t trip off the tongue does it. So, at a push they’ll accept the AMEX for short. I’m a realist and accept that for new grounds naming rights are now an established part of the deal and help pay for my padded seat. That said I can’t call it that. Its location is Falmer, but grounds can’t be named after a village. Roads and Parks, yes of course, but a village would be stretching it. I’ve made the decision that for the time being it is just so special that it doesn’t need a name. I won’t be telling people I’m off to the AMEX, or Falmer, I’ll be off to watch the Albion in the theatre many thought to be beyond our dreams.

Everywhere was blue and white and everyone was singing....

Such a momentous occasion does of course merit a momentous pre-match build up. And if we’re honest, if it wasn’t for the frolics and froth that go with pre-match there probably wouldn’t be European Football Weekends.

For this one a number of EFW regulars and associates rolled back the years and re-enacted the early Withdean year’s routine. On returning to Sussex from those two dreadful years in the Medway, we celebrated for about five seasons with a pre-match routine that more often than not resulted in the need to check the Sunday papers to see what the score was. I knew if we had won, drawn or lost; but the specifics could be a bit blurry.

Stomach lined in the Bystander, into The Railway Bell for liveners at 10.30am with men in brown trousers who look like they haven’t been home for a month, then around the corner to the Caxton Arms where 20 or so of us would turn the place into our private club for three or so hours. The old landlord welcomed the custom with open arms and the entrepreneur in him came up with a drink that he could charge us £4 for and of which we simply could not get enough. It gets better. There were two versions of the drink, home and away. They were known as Zamora’s. The home version - blue Aftershock with a floating top of Baileys to create a blue & white(ish) vision. The away version; yep just replace the blue with red Aftershock. Four or five of these on top of seven or so pints and believe me you are ready for anything; except remembering anything between the hours of 3pm-10pm on a Saturday.  

Via the Railway Bell and Evening Star we rocked up to the Caxton for the belated 12 o’c opening. New landlord now in situ and before long he was receiving a lesson in cocktail making. At this point we should raise a glass to absent friends; Clarky shame you couldn’t be here, we toasted you. Compadres from the Goldstone north stand are re-united, older in the tooth and some with a new generation in tow. A team photo taken and another moment of history captured.

Like the old days. One for the album and that....

Oh go on then; whilst we're going down the misty eyed route....

The pubs around the station were all bursting at the seams, it’s a very long time since over 20,000 fans have descended on a Brighton home game. Many of those going today will never have experienced a 20,000 plus home crowd, those who had probably thought they would never see such crowds again. It may seem small fry to the big boys, but trebling your crowds over night is a big deal.

The packed, short train ride from Brighton to Falmer is one of anticipation. Thousands are making their first trip to the ground. The atmosphere is Cup Final like; colour everywhere, familiar faces returning to the fold and the expectation is intoxicating. It’s not an expectation of glory, it’s one of pure relief and delight that one chapter can be closed and that there will be another chapter.

Nobody used to take too much notice of the results from the opening day games, of course it’s nice to notch up the first three points but just like a park and ride bus after the game there’s another match along in a minute and the chance to get some scores on the doors.

Sky’s incessant hyperbole has changed all that, at 3.03 on the first Saturday when the first goal goes in you’ll hear Chris Kamara explode with “unbelievable Jeff, if the season ended now would be playing Premiership football.” The live league table will flash up and the team one down will be calling for the head of the manager as they languish in the early doors bottom spot. All after three minutes. They never used to bother with the table until after three games. Phone ins and message boards will be awash with depressed / elated punters and inevitably all sense of perspective is chucked well and truly out of the window, as it will be every week between now and May. Welcome back to the football season after what has seemed like the longest close season ever. 

The heart of the matter

When clubs dish out the flags for a champions league shindig it looks a bit cheap and desperate. It can smack of a last ditch attempt to inject a bit of atmosphere into a dead end no-one could give a hoot qualifying round match. So, I was bit apprehensive when I heard that flags were the order of the day. Fair play though, they worked and added to the theatre and atmosphere and created an almighty buzz around the ground. The new massive screens played a greatest hits of Albion moments, including Storer’s goal against Donny 14 years ago, and pumped to the full 20,000 Albion fans roared the team into the new era.

As ever with our match reports we issue the EFW statement that if you want to know who played well, who won the tactical battles and who lined up 4-3-3 or whatever, then re-tune now. People are paid to knock out that nonsense. We pay to drink, sing and be merry.

The early exchanges were even, though Rovers settled into the groove of the new season and looked likely to spoil the party. The Rovers fans, looking like a Where’s Wally convention in their red hoops, were warming to the occasion. Albion’s loan star from Newcastle, Lua Lua, was getting outmuscled and out manoeuvred and it was no surprise when Billy Sharp pounced to give Donny the lead. Albion had their chances, but the shots lacked snap and they went in one down and with manager Poyet banished from the bench, probably not for the last time this season.

Where's Wally? #ObviousComment

So, to cut a long story short. Sadly for Donny fans and football fans in general, shortly into the second half Billy Sharp was stretchered off. Rovers never looked the same without him, and the eight minutes it took to treat him came in handy for the Albion. The pressure built, the noise from a packed stadium built to a crescendo. Poyet introduced new signing Will Buckley, and immediately his size and pace made a difference. Noone was creating and Buckley gave an outlet. The 82nd minute saw the stadium erupt in unbridled joy. The 97th minute saw the hinges shake and the roof take off. From one down, Brighton were two one up and the stadium bounced. Sense of perspective? Nah, this wasn’t about the season ahead, it wasn’t an indicator of how Brighton would cope this season, the steam valve of 14 years of frustration had been released and that steam was still blowing into the Sussex skies in the early hours of the morning.

Twelve years on from the nadir these two clubs served up a great game of football, played in a great atmosphere. You’d have got long odds on this all those years ago, good job Brighton chairman Tony Bloom is a betting man. He knew the odds and knew he was on to a winner.

D'ya know what I mean?

Like this? Larry from Lancing also interviewed living legend, Paul Heaton for EFW

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Brighton & Hove Albion v Tottenham Hotspur

American Beauty

Brighton & Hove Albion 2-3 Tottenham Hotspur (30-07-11)

Brighton's new stadium is landmark architecture, designed to inspire. Premier League calibre. Beautiful inside. A mansion for the homeless. Paul Hayward

I didn't actually want to attend this match. I'd waited so long - 14 years to be precise - to see Brighton play in a "proper" home stadium again that I promised myself one more week wouldn't hurt and I would save that emotional, magical moment for the Seagulls first league game at Falmer. Friendlies are bobbins after all, no matter what stadium they're played in. And then, like everyone else, I got swept up in all the hype and hoopla, cracked, and before I knew it, the cash had been hoovered up from my pockets and sucked straight into the clubs coffers.

A stadium costing £90m, million pound (million pound!) players and Brighton & Hove Albion mints (mints!) for sale in the new club mega store. Jesus H. Christ, this is going to take some time to sink in. It's not all cats kissing dogs in Sussex though; one fan had complained on the fans 'North Stand Chat' forum that his new season ticket, smart card if you will, had already started attracting traces of dust and fluff. No really. Get that hoover back out. No doubt cometh the season we'll all be moaning about having to pay £30 for Portsmouth away tickets. Actually, that's already started as well. Football fans eh?

Dabbing away tears isn't my normal pre-match routine, but that's what happened as I strolled up to the new place for the first time. All those years of protest, marches, fans united, pitch invasions, letters, petitions had paid off. Good things do come to those who wait. Brighton are officially back. And it feels good.

Walking up the ground you pass the Albion legends gallery. It's brilliant. You marvel at the giant new club badge positioned high up on the outside - They've gone back to the old badge this season, but with a modern twist and I could have kissed them on the lips for doing so - it's ruddy superb. There's the aforementioned new Seagulls Mega Store. I bought mints. And then we reach the supporters bar, "Dick's Bar" in fact. Laugh all you like but this bloke [Dick Knight] that helped rescue the club in its darkest hour. Fans can toast a drink to him every day in this place. It's a fitting tribute, and if opposition fans take the piss, then so what? We do things differently at Brighton.

He shot, he scored, it must be Peter Ward. 

The old badge*. *With a modern twist. Lovely. 

[Dick] Knight in shining armour. 

A swipe of my smart card - happily devoid of dust and fluff - later, and I was in. The concourse at the back of the West Stand is plush and - Watford take note - spacious with high definition plasma televisions everywhere you look. There's frothing pints of Harveys Ale for sale to wash down the butternut squash pies. I'm not making this up. Honestly, if you took along a deck chair, sat in the concourse for 90 minutes watching Jeff and the boys on Sky, and not watch any live football, you'd return home and say you'd had a tip-tip afternoon out. Possibly.

These mobile Harveys pubs were the stars of the show. I want one for my garden.

This chap was caught trying to steal a framed photo from the wall. 

My season ticket for 2011/12 is in the North Stand where the club expect the majority of vociferous, and dare I say raucous, fans to gather. I know this because, upon closer inspection, it's the only bit of the ground where they've pinned up protective covers on those plasma screens; presumably in case they meet with a disproving shower of ale following news of an unlikely Crystal Palace victory elsewhere filtering through on Sky Sports News. Anyway, I was in the West Stand for this match as it's the only opportunity I'll get this season. I will save my North Stand experience for that game with Donny Rovers next Saturday.

Not even "England's Winning Tenor", Martin Toal operatic nonsense could dampen my mood as I took my seat. I've slatted him on these pages before so I won't go into it again. Nothing against him personally, I just don't think he belongs within a country mile of a football stadium. In truth, today he sang "Abide With Me", and it sort of fitted the bill perfectly. There wasn't a dry eye in the house.

And what's all this? Noise? At a Brighton home game? Yes sir. Our vocal support away from home is right up there with the best, but it's barely registered on our own patch since we left the hallowed turf of the Goldstone Ground. The acoustics are magnificent. They were factored in during the design of the ground, and it's one of a number of attentions to detail that set this place aside from the modern "identikit" stadiums. Small touches like projecting images of opposition legends onto the concourse walls of the away end, guest ales from that clubs region, seats the size of a bus, and proper blooming food for once means it gets 5 (five) Fifa stars from me.

Water bout that then? The North Stand faithful get a pre-match soaking. 

Brighton are back

Ah, the actual match. Yes, well this day was always going to be more about the occasion and the stadium as opposed to the football. Pre-season friendlies as we've already established are normally turgid affairs. Danny Baker reckons clubs shouldn't even charge for them. But having said that (nod to Larry David) here was a game that ebbed and flowed with goals raining in willy nilly. The pick of the bunch was a LuaLua special in the second half; he cut inside Corluka and unleashed an unstoppable drive from twenty-five yards. Delicious. I wouldn't have got carried away if we'd have won this match (I probably would), and I didn't mind losing. It was, however, thoroughly entertaining.

LuaLua's effort prompted the singing of a song for a full twenty minutes which looks set to split opinion among the Albion faithful: "We are the North stand, the North stand, the North stand,The North stand of the Albion, the Albion, the Albion, The Albion of the Sussex, the Sussex, the Sussex, The Sussex by  the sea, the sea, the sea". Controversial because it's an adaptation of a tune made famous by our bitterest of rivals, Crystal Palace. These guys to be precise.

I'll wager that not one Brighton fan will refer to our new gaff as the 'American Express Community Stadium'. It'll be either The Amex or simply, Falmer. But after those 14 years of nomadic existence, I'll readily take it as my new home. To me, for now anyway, it'll be referred to as the "American Beauty". Cheers Tony Bloom.

Up for the cup

Got any spare change mate? EFW meets Albion's new million pound man, Craig Mackail-Smith.

A couple of arty ones from The Ball is Round's Stuart Fuller to finish with.

For lots more photos from the day CLICK ME.

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Notts County v Brighton

County Stamp Out Relegation Threat

Notts County 1-1 Brighton (07:05:11)

A warm welcome back to Brighton fan and all-round genius David Hartrick....

Okay, I suppose we better address the EFW match-report shaped elephant in the room.

My last article from the Oldham vrs Brighton game this season may have contained one or two factual errors. I know that it's been some time since Earl Barrett was the mainstay of the Oldham defence. I'm fairly certain you can't buy a strawberry daiquiri at half-time at Boundary Park. Bernard Cribbins never told me a filthy story about his time voicing the Wombles.

Now in my defence this situation was partly caused by the fact I may not have *actually* attended the game. I understand that this is an unconventional approach to writing a report about an untelevised match but I wanted to see if I could pull it off.

I couldn't.

Before we leave the subject I suppose I ought to mention that I also knew Oldham didn't play on a plastic pitch anymore but how would you have crow-barred in a Katie Price gag?

Destination for the day & conclusive proof I was at the game (.ish)

Therefore it was decided, if I wrote a second match report for EFW Danny had some ground rules, first among them to actually attend the game. Weighing up my options I agreed this was probably the best way to go about things and tossed my pre-prepared Nottingham research in the bin. I say research, I bought a copy of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves from Amazon. It wasn't even very good. Kevin Costner's accent was rubbish.

My journey from Huddersfield should have been straight forward enough train wise but thanks to the good people at the rail company, they contrived to give me two options. The first was I go from Huddersfield and face a journey back that would piss Phileas Fogg off. The second was to cajole the wife into driving me to Leeds station and have a slightly easier time of things all-round. Luckily the wife agreed to do me the favour and it only cost me several nights looking after our daughter, an agreement that I would load the dishwasher for the next six months and £250's worth of vouchers for selected clothing stores of her choosing (last time she negotiated the same clause without specifying and £250's worth of Anne Summers didn't go down well. She did get some lovely pyjamas though).

And so that's how I found myself on the train from Leeds with virtually every exhibitor at the International Stamp exhibition to be held in Sheffield on the same day. Now these are serious men with a serious hobby, albums and suitcases were being guarded like they held the deeds to heaven itself. Once I'd exhausted my stamp banter by asking how much a first class goes for nowadays, I opted to sit back and watch. Around me pockets of horse-trading were in full swing but in hushed tones, stamp swaps being conducted in the same fashion as most drug deals occur. I decided to amuse myself by trying to think of stamp based footballing puns and I'll be honest, after Phil Stamp and Kingsley (Penny) Black there's nothing.

As we passed Sheffield and they exited the train I have to confess I felt a little sad. I had just witnessed a conversation between two men, one of whom was as mad as ten bears that North Sea gas isn't called British Gas. When his friend interjected that you can go with British Gas as your supplier he was quickly shot down with a Partridge/Tanoy-esque 'that's the company not the product'. I felt lonely, the only other passenger in the carriage was reading the Daily Mail and clearly not up for a discussion about utilities but undeterred, I made my connection in good time and hit Nottingham already writing paragraphs of this report in my head.

Having met up with Danny Last of this very parish and a suitably merry band of men (damn you Costner, get out of my head) a few sleeves were downed in preparation of the game ahead. The use of the word sleeves by myself prompted some heavy discussion as to what pints can be called across the country. After a journey through bevvies, yards and pots it was decided that sleeves was better than all of them as 'short-sleeves' could be used for whisky, gin etc. It was now 2:30 and we were yet to talk about football in any capacity. After another 15 minutes spent talking about the wonder of Greggs, we were just about ready to head to the game.

Greggs: The most fun you can have with your clothes on

Now this was an unusual game for a Brighton fan as technically, it was a dead rubber and for the very best of reasons. As title winners there was somewhat of a party atmosphere as fancy dress appeared to be the order of the day. Having spoken to Jesus, the Queen, Osama bin Laden (he'd had a busy week), several Captain Americas, a tiger having a cigarette and a special Brighton-blue Morph, costume of the day for me personally was the Dalek.

(Doctor) Who are ya?

Not often you go to a game and see a Dalek but I would suggest they could be a welcome addition to the fancy dress pantheon, but only if you're prepared to sweat for your art.

And so to the game (I know what you're thinking - at last! - but if you do come to me for a match report you can usually expect a good 700 words of nonsense before the main event).

County needed a win to guarantee their safety, a draw would do depending on Dagenham and Walsall's respective results. This was a last day where right across the league's nearly everything was settled and to be fair, County were in the box seat themselves to escape. The dream scenario for us Brighton fans was that County survived thanks to results elsewhere so nothing soured the mood, it's a long way to come to have a load of disappointed fans scream at you as you walk to the station wearing a Spiderman outfit otherwise. Kick-off time came and after locating a completely empty bar to purchase drinks and sausage rolls (pastry to meat ratio poor) as and when required, we made our way to our seats in high spirits.

Despite the nerves of a last day relegation possibly hanging over their heads the County fans were in outstanding voice but had bought a drummer with them. Ten minutes into the first half I offered to leave the safety of the Jimmy Sirrel Lower and hunt the drummer down in order to place said instrument somewhere where it is almost impossible to beat a drumstick rhythmically. I'm not a killjoy but if there's one thing I can't stand at a football ground its bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

Brighton scored early, Ashley Barnes curling in from the edge of the box but in truth many of the Albion players were playing with their flip-flops and swimming shorts on. There was a lazy feeling to proceedings and when Gordon Greer's own goal bought County level plus results were going their way elsewhere, the jovial atmosphere among the Brighton fans spread to the whole ground. By halftime it had become reasonably clear that County were going to do just enough and Brighton were going to make it back to the Spanish coast without serious injury.

Just an example of some of the fun to be had at halftime

The second half started with County on top but then as news of Walsall and Dagenham both having mountains to climb filtered through, the game reduced to the deadest of dead rubbers. County finished on top, Brighton finished getting their money changed into Euros. The final whistle was greeted with a good natured pitch invasion as the best of all possible worlds had indeed occurred. A love-in between fans of both clubs then ensued as essentially it had never mattered for Brighton and County had played well enough to show their fans even if results hadn't gone their way, they could still have possibly got the win.

And so home-time loomed and what had we learnt? That 'sleeves' is the best word for pints, stamp collectors are quite possibly the best people to share a train with for an hour, British Gas is the company and not the product and that Greggs is wonderful and the one in Huddersfield stays open till 2 o'clock in the morning. All in all a productive day then.

Maybe you were right and there is something to be said for actually going to the game Danny.

Meadow Lane panoramic action, tick

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Oldham Athletic v Brighton

Even Better Than the Real Thing

Oldham 0-1 Brighton (19:03:11)

Brighton & Hove Albion continue to set pulses racing in League One. Dave Hartrick went to investigate their progress at Oldham. Or did he....

I should've spent Saturday afternoon at Boundary Park watching my beloved Brighton play Oldham Athletic but due to unforeseen circumstances, I couldn't go. Further to missing the game, I also promised Danny a match report so I have two choices - go cap in hand and explain my absence in the hope that he won't beat the back of my legs with a ruler, or do what any respectable journalist would do and make it up.

As I made my way to Oldham I couldn't help but be excited - this was after all once one of the most productive cotton spinning mill towns in the world (thank you Wikipedia). Coming from Huddersfield, t'is a mere hop, skip and a jump across the moors but in my 21 years living in the North, I have never visited the home of the Inspiral Carpets. As I made my way down the A627 and on towards Hilbre Avenue (thank you AA Route Finder) the anticipation of potentially bumping into Clint Boon was almost feverish. As the stadium loomed in to view, I remembered that if there's one thing EFW loves besides a poorly-judged pun it's a photo, so *ahem* out came my camera.

First glimpse of Boundary Park. I might not get away with this

As I'm sure you'll agree it looks quite magnificent, just the 3 stands because they don't need another. After parking the car in any one of the spots you can see in the photo above, we made our way into the ground hopeful of a great game and some warm hospitality ahead.

I've just had a thought - didn't Oldham have a plastic pitch? They must have got rid of it by now, no one has plastic pitches any more do they? It reminds of that Only Fools & Horses where Del and Rodney are pretending to be tennis players and a girl asks 'do you prefer grass or Astroturf?' for Rodney to reply 'Don't know, never smoked Astroturf.'. I had a friend who smoked Astroturf once, nasty business, always a shame when one dies so young. Also a shame when the word 'halfwit' is used repeatedly at an inquest. Cover your ignorance with another picture quickly.

A pie that I ate. It tasted 'Oldhamy'. I don't know why they do their sauce in the shape of a map of Australia.

So onto the game. Oldham lined up as usual, Earl Barrett and Denis Irwin in defence, Ian Marshall and Andy Ritchie up front. Playmaker Mike Milligan looked to pull the strings in midfield and with Nick Henry, Graeme Sharp and Gunnar Halle on the bench, the Seagulls had an uphill task ahead.

As the game kicked off certain things became clear. Firstly, the plastic pitch could be a factor but coming from Brighton - Katie Price's home town no less - immediately the Albion looked adept at coping with a load of pointless plastic. Oldham looked to pump long balls towards Marshall, manager Joe Royle clearly believing Brighton could be exposed but their back line was simply magnificent.

.I've just realised, if I'm making this up, I may as well go the whole hog.

As the Albion found their stride, the Oldham crowd looked at each other and almost to a man the talk of who's the better footballing side started - Brighton or Barcelona? Among the away fans we were used to such lavish praise but when the home fans began chanting 'It's just like watching Brazil' at Brighton, some of us blushed. I didn't check the official possession stats but I'm pretty certain it was about 85% Brighton, 13% Oldham, and 2% a cheeky little bleeder in the crowd who wouldn't give the ball back at a throw in.

Now throw in an action shot - you're getting away with this my old son.

Earl Barrett in action, it even says so at the side

Brighton surged forward but the half finished goalless despite the away side hitting the woodwork on no less than 14 occasions. After the pie before the game I decided against something to eat but did have a strawberry daiquiri which was an unusual option, but also a delightfully summery one. As the crowd mingled I got talking to a few of the locals, the Oldham born and bred Bernard Cribbins told me a cracking but utterly filthy story about his time voicing the Wombles and a few minutes later, Professor Brian Cox and I got talking about the density of the average neutron star.

Having to cut the Professor off mid-flow seemed cruel but I wanted to get back to the game. With the away end now in buoyant mood, fuelled by a mix of daiquiris and typically Arsenal-esque pace and movement, the second half kicked off with high expectations.

On 67 minutes Brighton had the breakthrough their dominance deserved, Ashley Barnes scoring after beating all 10 Oldham outfield players, several substitutes warming up at the side and 2 over-enthusiastic stewards. Mazy run complete not even the Brighton fans expected him to flick it up and volley in the finish from some 40 yards. As the Albion fans rejoiced, several Oldham fans wept knowing they would never see anything as beautiful again like that weirdo in American Beauty who videoed a plastic bag blowing about - honestly, if he thinks that was good I could take him to a tip in Huddersfield that would blow his socks off. After the high came the low and the game then fizzled out to end 1-0.

To cap things off for the away side, a few miles over the Pennines Huddersfield Town were held to a draw to allow the lead at the top of the table to be stretched by a further 2 points. Even Jeff Stelling admitted on Soccer Saturday it was a great day for Brighton but I didn't see that, I was at the game and not at home in the front room up to my neck in baby sick, Kettle Chips and a half eaten Greggs Mexican chicken sandwich.

So a great day had by all, Oldham saw how the game should be played, Brighton continued their march to the Championship and I was definitely at the game. Definitely.

As you'll have gathered by now, Dave Hartick is a genius. Follow him on Twitter.

You can also read more of his work HERE and THERE.

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Brighton and Hove Albion FC

Up, Up, and Away

Larry from Lancing sums up the emotions of many a Brighton and Hove Albion fan as another new dawn beckons...

Sporting life sometimes, just sometimes, transcends reality. “You couldn’t make it up...” screams the castrato commentator. In 1986, and having served a 63 day ban for smoking marijuana, Ian Terrence Botham returned to the England fold against New Zealand. Derided as a drug addled shadow of his former glorious self, his first delivery back saw Bruce Edgar dab a lifting delivery to Gooch at second slip and I.T Botham equalled D. K. Lillee's record of 355 Test wickets. The ever pragmatic Gooch enquired “Who writes your scripts Beefy?” Some sportsmen (and of course women) and some sporting institutions have that certain something that you just couldn’t make up, who indeed writes their scripts. There are many more examples and you know what, I think we may be just about to experience another one...

As those twin evils of gluttony and greed brought down the curtain on the crumbling Goldstone the reality of what lay ahead was only all too clear. Or, so we thought. What followed has been a schizophrenic journey between football grounds in different counties, up and down leagues, play off drama, managerial comings and goings, joy and despondency, campaigns and confusion, politics and pop. The chapter is drawing to a close with a dream new home on the horizon, a charismatic and inspirational manager, a Chairman with the blood of the club in his veins and a team playing a style of successful football as good as anyone can remember. Brighton & Hove Albion, who writes your scripts?   

Let’s not forget that some went to prison for this story to come true, people with families and responsibilities put their freedom on the line, people put their lives on hold to fight for a future and many, many more did what they do best – stick by their heritage. Sounds dramatic, it was. A script writer needs heroes and a supporting cast, Brighton has these in abundance. This one as they say is for you.

We can now say that 26 April 1997 was not the end. Yes, we’ve had a base in Brighton, we haven’t though had a home and a club and its fans need a home.

The Brighton v York City "riot" 

Football belongs to the FANS

Most fans enter their new era in a new stadium reluctantly, moving to identikit stadia in the middle of nowhere, leaving behind an atmospheric ramshackle ground full of history and ghosts. We have had more than enough time to mourn what was unceremoniously taken away, more than enough time on the A23, M25, M26, M2, more than enough time getting soaked in a wobbling mass of green plastic and steel. Like any good story, the twists and turns and dramatic developments have added to the anticipation. Those who have sweated to make the stadium a reality have left no stone unturned in their quest for perfection, striking a balance between a state of the art modern stadium and the commercialism that accompanies this, with the history and heritage of a club and its fans.

As the goal posts fell in 1996 and as the turf was lifted in 1997, who would have scripted what was to follow? In that time we’ve seen some of the worst professional football ever played on these shores, Donny Rovers of course take their share of the blame for that game, and we’ve seen some of the best. We’ve had the worst of times and it feels like we are now approaching the best of times. 

The last ever game at the Goldstone Ground

Like this? Larry has also written on the Brighton v Crystal Palace rivalry. 

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Brentford v Brighton

Seagulls are the Bee's Knees

Brentford 0-1 Brighton (08:03:11)

We sent roving reporter Nick Goodwin to Brentford to watch the mighty Albion....

Since EFW’s last League 1 outing in February, Brighton and Hove Tika Taka FC have notched up five league wins, scoring four goals in four of those games to boot. Minor blips at Franchise FC in the league and Stoke in the cup have quickly been forgotten. Time for Brentford to put a spanner in the works then.

Why do you say this, crazy fool? Mid-table team who have just been tonked 3-0 at the weekend putting a spanner in the works? Well here’s why. And here. You see, despite EFW Towers laughing in the face of loonies who spout superstition and all things supernatural, Brentford away is jinxed. Fact. Here’s the science : 0-0, 0-1, 0-4, 0-4, 0-2. But I’m a mere beginner and so had to turn to King of EFW, Danny Last, to recount a wondrous tale involving legend Garry Nelson before the Griffin’s spell was cast.

The Bees find themselves slap bang in the middle of the table, almost certainly too far off both the play-offs and the relegation zone to send any hearts-a-fluttering in the league. But their season has not been without fireworks. An exciting dispatch of Everton in front of the cameras in the League Cup was one of five (five!) penalty shoot outs that they’ve been embroiled in so far this season, with the short trip to Wembley still to come for the final of the Johnstones Paint Trophy. With the relatively safe position in the league, recently appointed boss-till-the-end-of-the-season Nicky Forster (I was wondering when you would get to him – Ed) has a decent chance to make a go of his start in management without the added pressure of fighting a relegation battle. Planning for Brentford’s 2011-12 league season starts here. We wish him well. Forster, of course, joined Brentford from the Albion, with a loan spell at Charlton sandwiched in between, and scored a remarkable 51 goals in 119 appearances for the blue and white stripes. There’s also added interest with the recent public acknowledgement by Brighton’s Jake Forster-Caskey of the support that Nicky, his step-dad, has given him whilst growing up and embarking on his playing career.

Brentford are also in what is still a select, but growing, group of clubs to be owned, or part-owned, by their fans. The group of blokes we spoke to outside the Princess Royal pub on a sunny day last season had all paid into the pot that made up the majority shareholding that is Bees United. A future EFW column or two in its own right no doubt. Coupled with this new set up are plans to build a new community stadium about a mile from Griffin Park. This site is visible from the Kew Bridge to Brentford pub crawl route that EFW took tonight, and although plans are stalled and at the early stages, it’s potentially going to be an interesting and pioneering project that will be worth following.

Did I say pub crawl ? Oh yes, so I did. Brentford, being closest to an overhead rail station rather than a tube, has always generated circa 73 pages of posts on North Stand Chat, with the Ruffians keen to know how to get there, what pubs to go to, what time the dry cleaners shuts, that kind of thing. As you by now know EFW prides itself on meticulous, Territorial Army-style reconnaissance and preparation ahead of every game. And today was no different. Seagull 1 (yours truly) was coming in from central London, Seagull 2 (Loud Ross) from Harrow, so Gunnersbury tube, and the Pilot pub nearby, was our first port of call. An early start in a backstreet boozer didn’t present the best of atmospheres of course so after a quick pint of Seafarers (what else?) it was off to the magnificent Bell and Crown. It was still early enough to enjoy some of the early Spring sun on the Thames, washed down with some sun-inducing Fullers Chiswick. We had to remind each other that we weren’t here for the duration and dragged ourselves towards Kew Bridge for the delightful time warp that is the Express Tavern. Remember what I said just now about meticulous planning? Well, last season we turned up to this place on a Saturday lunchtime and it was closed! No such trouble this time around :-

“ Express Tavern “

“ Hi, I’m just ringing to make sure that you are open early Tuesday evening as we’re planning to make a visit “

“ Yes, we open at half past five “

“ Ok, great, so you’re open and half past five “

“ Yes, that’s right “

“ Smashing, we’ll see you at half past five then. On Tuesday “

  Click, brrrrr….

The magnificent Bell and Crown. *applause*

Loud Ross County

Worth it for the boozer?

Our plan to walk straight to the ground was curtailed by our inability to walk past the warm and welcoming Watermans Tavern, which was the first pub of the afternoon to contain a good number of home and away fans. This pub serves the local Irish community well with plenty of Black Stuff and Murphys pumps shining from the bar, and Irish sport shown regularly. We fondly recalled watching Sussex win their Twenty20 Cup semi-final in this pub before last season’s game. The food is also tremendous with a rollicking good Bangers and Mash (£5.50 to you my good fellow) polished off by Loud Ross in under six minutes.

Wanting to get off to the ground not too late we forfeited the next pint of IPA and made a beeline (tut tut) for Griffin Park. Now, eight paragraphs into our report, here it comes, are you ready? The obscure fact of all facts that is so unobscure that even my three year old knows it : Brentford has a pub on EACH CORNER OF THE GROUND! Yep, sorry, but it’s impossible to stop the words jumping right out of my fingers. We’ve never managed to complete all four at the same fixture and tonight was no different, so it was straight to The Griffin, the traditional ‘away’ pub. Although this is generally where the most vocal of away fans congregate prior to games, none of the pubs are off bounds to either sets of fans, and all of them contain a mix in varying degrees. Unfortunately the overwhelmed bar staff were unable to serve us a pint within three minutes so we bolted past the on looking horse-police to the other corner of the away end and into The New Inn. Not sure which part of this place is ‘new’, maybe it’s just the youngest of all four pubs, but we got served straight away by very friendly staff and we were settled for the final pre-match slurp. After a very strange encounter with a Brighton fan in the gents who claimed to be an attendee of our board meetings and started reeling off all sorts of information about contract details between Bloom and Poyet we had to get some fresh air. 

Did you know that Griffin Park has a pub on ever...[snip - Ed.]

Google street view of the Braemar Road before the match, tick

You like that did you? Have another on me

So, to the game. After a ten minute queue around the block to get in we made kick-off with three minutes to spare. And then it All. Came. Flooding. Back. Terracing, where have you been? This has been the first, proper packed-in standing game we’ve attended for quite a while (Peterborough was roomy in comparison) and my how much of a difference it makes. The noise, the passion, the chants, the shocking view, what more do you want? Some highlights for you, and I make no apologies for this being a list :-

· Upon realisation that Gus had changed our style for this game to a more traditional approach : “ We want our tippy-tap, we want our tippy-tap"

· From the 34th minute until half-time, non-stop (and still in my head) : the Elliott Bennett Heartbeat song, da da da da da, da da da da da

· Disparaging (but tongue in cheek) chants already being sung about the forthcoming split between the new North and West Upper Standers

· After the miss that we knew would miss : “ Penalties, penalties, we’re the famous Brighton and Hove Albion and we’re shit at penalties" (Albion have missed six of out of ten penalties this season)

· Tremendous “ One Marcus Painter “ singing whilst he lay prone for 5 minutes and then was stretchered off for what, thankfully, turned out to be nothing too serious

· The lone, and ultimately successful, attempt by a chubby teen in the Brentford stand nearest us to get himself ejected from the ground. 8 police officers required, overtime claimed

· And last but not least, upon receiving the usual unoriginal, homophobic chanting from a group of spotty pwoper nawty lads at the station, “ Tracksuits from Matalan, tracksuits from Matalan"

As mentioned above we took some time to absorb the fact that Triangles were out for this game. Clever counteraction from Gus? Yes, I think so in the end. The pitch was shocking and as we saw at Orient some teams are now combating quite well our passing game, so this was maybe an attempt to surprise Forza Forster. It worked, just. Not the most technically adept of games, but good proper football nonetheless, both teams creating mainly half-chances after our initial domination of the first half of the first half.

My one shot of our stand from above the heads came out all blurred, gutted.

After Murray was bundled over in their box we prepared ourselves for the inevitable penalty save that would follow. And lo and behold I just managed to see, whilst peering between the ears of the punters in front of me, our crossbar and the roof of our stand, the ball rebound off their keeper. Boo. But it wasn’t too long before that jinx was broken, and I guess in the only way these sorts of things can be, with a ridiculous goal. Murray would have been proud of the finish by the Bees defender which cued The Surge. It took us a few seconds to remember that you’re meant to run into that gap in front of you on the terrace when you score, and push and jump and shout and turn and push and jump and shout and turn. And this we did with beaming smiles. Brentford never really gave us the nervous stomachs that the closing stages of games like this often do and our confidence was confirmed when the final whistle was blown on 97 minutes (to accommodate the previously mentioned Painter pause.)

Just before we zoomed off to catch the first train back we were able to witness the joyous fist-pumping of Poyet to us behind the goal, gritted teeth an’ll. I think this one meant a lot to him and he has said as much in the post-match interviews to be found elsewhere.

So, despite our shouts of ‘We’ll never play you again’, of course we will sooner or later, maybe at Griffin Park, maybe at a new Community Stadium. At least we can now go a few seasons without losing here in the league and hold on to the memory of our hero, Mr O. G.

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