I wish I could remember the first time my Dad took me to Selhurst Park as a little girl but unfortunately it's lost in a blue and red haze. I think I must have been around 8, maybe 9 and I knew right away it was the start of a beautiful relationship.
Going to a home game was, and always will be despite our league position or the final score, a delight. A quick cuppa at the Greenbrook house in Upper Norwood (thanks Mum) always started proceedings before a drive to Grangewood Park to leave the car and a saunter to the ground alongside other expectant fans. Sometimes you could hear the stadium crowd already chanting as we made our way down Ladbrook Road and if it was an evening game, from the hill you could see the bright glare of the floodlights illuminating the sky. I always liked it when the weather was cold and brisk - wrapped up warm in hats, gloves and a vibrant red and blue scarf I never felt a chill as I held my Dad’s hand.
A quick detour over the petrol garage courtyard on Whitehorse Road for a match programme and sweets, then hurriedly past the orange glaze of the rather ugly Sainsburys and the heaving Club Shop bursting with memorabillia. A final squish through the click, click, clicking of turnstiles and suddenly I was spurted into the club's ground - a sea of red and blue bordering the centrepiece of the green pitch.
Even now, there's such a sense of energy within that red and blue community. Every time I go there, I swear I see the same programme sellers from years gone by. Ever present is Pete the Eagle (and his girlfriend in mascot-land, Alice), whose importance even merits a Twitter following @PeteEagle_CPFC
Pre-match events in recent times also involve a real Eagle taking flight around the pitch before kick off and, rather unfortunately, the Crystals, Palace’s own ‘cheerleading squad’ who were ‘brought in to inspire the players’ and even made the Metro in March 2011 when accused of affecting the team’s form. Sorry ladies, I’m sure you’re harmless and you're certainly popular with the fans, but you whiff too much of the hideous Sky Sports ‘Soccerette’ in my eyes and I do wish we could just enjoy the game.
Attendance has possibly decreased somewhat over the years, but that hasn't quietened the thunderous roar of the crowd, quashed the jumping up and down of the Holmesdale Fanatics or the playing of '25 Miles by The Three Amigos' when Palace score. Even the most prudent of fans forget themselves when the announcer leads the crowd into repeating the scorer's name loudly - Darrrrreeeen AMBROSE! etc.
It’s never an easy 90 minutes. It can be exhilariating. Surprising. Full of ups and downs. Gut wrenchingly, agonisingly painful. But it's always special.
This little team from South London has a fascinating history. Crystal Palace Football Club was formed in 1905 by the builders of The Crystal Palace and originally played its home games at the cup final ground at The Crystal Palace. They moved to the purpose built Stadium Selhurst Park in 1924, where the team have shared the ground with Wimbledon FC and Charlton Athletic.
Dougie Freedman, a former player, is now providing paternal leadership to both Palace's young starlets fresh out of the Academy and the experienced older players. We once walked in a Freedman Wonderland but we're now watching him lead our red and blue army hopefully to some form of success. 18 months ago we were on the brink of administration, players were playing for free and fans didn't know what the outcome would be. Now Saint Dougie nearly led the team to Wembley. An amazing feat.
Going to Selhurst Park for me is like finding a big book of memories, blowing off the dust and getting lost in the nostaligia.Sometimes when I look over to the Holmesdale end, I imagine it's 1988 again. I can see little me and my sister Michelle at the front of the terraces with the other children, excited at the arrival of the players coming out of the tunnel and waving back at our Dad. I'm almost waiting for David 'Kid' Jensen to come out at half time and announce a competition.
Fast forward to the 1990/91 season where Palace finished an astonishing third in what was then the First Division. The squad was full of a host of greats including Nigel Martyn, Richard Shaw, Gareth Southgate, Alan Pardew, Simon Rodger, John Salako, Geoff Thomas, Mark Bright, Stan Collymore, and Ian Wright, most of whom have gone on to find fame in bigger clubs, in management or as a pundit on Sky Sports (*play extravagant fireworks noise here*)
Then, It's the 1992/1993 season and my 14th birthday is announced on the scoreboard in an opening game six-goal thriller against Blackburn Rovers. I was half embarrassed, half proud. I was 14 after all.
 |
| Add caption |
In around 1995, while a student, I worked in the now defunct Club Shop on George Street in Croydon which was to be was the best job ever. Players popping in, a great work team, free kit each season and non-stop boys coming in all day. What was there not to like for a 16 year old girl? Thankfully I declined the offer to feature in the Club Shop catalogue, foreseeing the endless ribbing I would get from my husband if that ever came out from the depths of the Greenbrook actic.
Sadly, Palace often lost, and as a passionate and rather emotional young fan I would regularly cry with disappointment. I could barely stay in my seat when an opposing player took a shot at goal, but on making another great save, my Dad would say, ‘Don’t worry Nic, Nige had it covered’ and all was good again in the world.
Nige of course was the great Nigel Martyn, Palace's star goalkeeper who broke our hearts when he left for Leeds in 1996. Nigel once inadvertently gave me a cauliflower ear while warming up before a game. He mis-kicked the ball causing it to swerve backwards, knock my drink out of my hand and simultaneously take out me and my best friend Danuta - right in the kisser. 'Sorry girls', said Nige. 'Ow', said Nicola, with possible concussion and temporary loss of hearing in one ear.
So you see, it’s not just a game of football, it’s a part of me, it's deep rooted. It’s about where I spent my childhood, the special memories it created. It’s about being with loved ones and friends who know exactly what it feels like. It’s taking pride in a perfectly nice area that gets a lot of criticism for no apparent reason other than pure snobbery. It's about being loyal to your local team through both the good and bad times (take note London Mancs) and spending the weekend looking irrationally and erratically at the Sky Sports Football Score Centre app and hoping that Jeff Stelling will tell you that Palace have won.
Yes, we moan and whine and vow half-heartedly never ever to go again/to rip up our season ticket/to support a half decent team. I repeatedly deride bloody Palace for being bloody useless and no matter if we were 5-0 up with 5 minutes to go, I’d still be nervous; there's no denying it. We don't have the money or the stature of a club like Manchester City. We get ridiculed, taunted as being boring 'Nigels' and we certainly don't always have a lot of luck.
Yet even though my old scarf may be tattered, the corners of the 'Holmesdale - Last Stand' poster that is proudly displayed in the Greenbrook ‘Playroom’ (since refurbished, sadly, to become an outdoor storage space) may be peeling and the face paints are fading, they will always be Super Palace from Sel-hurst and will hold a special place in my heart.
As the Holmesdale Fantatics would encourage me to say, I'm Palace till I die.
We may have lost tonight and our hearts broken once more, but I'll always be feeling Glad all Over watching this very special team.
No comments:
Post a Comment