Doing the 92: how football changed during my groundhopping odyssey

It was bound to end like this: a long and arduous odyssey that started in 1982 on a crumbling terrace culminated on a grey, drizzly afternoon in December watching my team get hammered 3-0 in a brand spanking new stadium named in conjunction with an international commercial law firm. A glorious away win thanks to a last-minute winner would have been somehow too poetic. This was how it was meant to be, when I finally completed the 92.

As with that game at Everton, most games were as an away Nottingham Forest fan; others as a neutral. There is much I witnessed and learned from this ludicrous yet wholly fulfilling enterprise and the many miles travelled. For one thing, it used to be that one displayed allegiances by carefully trapping a scarf in the window, so it fluttered outside all the way. This has been replaced by the executive car sticker or personalised number plate and our society is much the worse for it.

These days to visit a ground within walking distance of a town centre is a rare delight – it feels like a big day out. More significantly, it encourages a sense of place: you know where you are, you have a sense of being somewhere, which you don’t get from walking through an industrial estate on the ring road or a science park. (Apologies – of a kind – to Colchester, Oxford, Shrewsbury. Hat-tip to Luton, Peterborough, and Sheffield United, to name just a few.)

We all know about Griffin Park and its famed pub for each corner. But by the time of the ground’s last throes not all of them were still open for business. The pubs nearest grounds have been closing at an alarming rate. Meanwhile, football clubs have become increasingly preoccupied with footfall and asking themselves how they could possibly squeeze any more money from their fans. The solution? Get them to buy their beer inside the ground. Thus, the modern stadium builds a bar into the fancy new stand. Some of which are quite good, especially when there are no pubs within walking distance.

You can still find many terraces behind a goal to stand on. And higher up the leagues, safe standing is now commonplace, which poses the question: how hard was it to implement in the first place? The period between safe standing seeming weird and fantastical to it being ubiquitous was brief. Football fans can have nice things without breaking them.

How wonderful it is to go to new grounds and recreate those famous goals you’ve seen there on telly in your head: that goalmouth is where Jimmy Glass scored that goal to preserve Carlisle United’s League status. There should be virtual blue plaques for this kind of thing. And on that note, there is delight to be found in losing track of the game while Googling Percy Ronson (Fleetwood) or Eric Whalley (Accrington) to find out why they are so revered that they have a stand or bar named after them.

The modern ultra. For so long, we have envied German supporters for their flag-waving, constant chanting, and sense of identity. But rather than taking the best bits and moulding it to their own club, some fans have simply copied it. Of course, anything to bring a bit of atmosphere to the game is welcome. Yet the practice of some sort of uniform, invariably all black clothing, to assert your own fandom seems odd. It has a whiff of superiority about it, as if to say that we are the proper fans and you can’t be in our club or as ultra as us until you wear all black and jump up and down a lot. And you may even have to be questioned by us in a pub if you want to join to see if you have the right vibe.

It seems as if most clubs have their own baby squad – Barrow’s are clearly visible, especially when their team scores a goal at the Holker Street End and they surge towards the away fans to their right. By all means, wave a flag, sing songs, do all of that, but is some sort of uniform really necessary?

Arsenal fans fly their flags before they host Newcastle in the Premier League. Photograph: Andrew Couldridge/Action Images/Reuters

Big flags are everywhere. Clubs even have official big flag wavers too. It looks great when a huge flag surfs from end of a stand to the other while flags are being waved in the other stands. But like safe standing, why were we told for so long they were not welcome? They were frowned upon and discouraged and anyone daring to wave a flag to show their support was pounced upon by eager stewards.

In fact, it is still difficult to get such a flag into a game without prior permission. It seems that clubs want to have such a spectacle, but want to own it too, to make it official in some way, as if supporters can’t really be trusted to wave the flags correctly, so we’d better take charge of the flag-waving ourselves. Regardless, more big flags and keep them coming; just let the fans sort it themselves.

Bargain bins in club shops towards the end of the season hold treasure. You can pick up all kinds of unusual memorabilia, and it’s the perfect time to bag a shirt as the club tries to divert all eyes towards the new kit. Kudos to Walsall for selling theirs for as little as a tenner, and extra bonus for it having Poundland emblazoned on the front.

Speaking of sponsors, one way to alleviate a tedious game is to note the advertising hoardings: one can speculate on what Betterwave at Accrington is or does, and ponder just how reliable D Catchesides Roofing in the Bromley area are. The huge Britcon hoarding at Scunthorpe conures an array of questions regarding contemporary political and social issues. And scan a stadium hard enough – especially in the north-west – and you are never far away from a Rainham Steel advert.

Organised fireworks displays are definitely an event in the lower leagues. Who knew they were so heavily advertised? Who knew they were a thing? Such events are advertised more than Elton John gigs in provincial grounds. And like ultra culture, flag-waving and safe standing, murals around grounds have also finally entered the football mainstream, making the traditional walk around the new ground an enticing one. You may even actively seek out one you have seen online. Such things create a sense of identity to the area, and not in a threatening way, but more of a warm and inviting “come and see who our heroes are around here” way. And you invariably stand there agreeing and nodding and thinking: “Yeah, he was some player, wasn’t he?”

And yet there have been constants over those 43 years too. In late autumn you enter a ground in hazy sunshine and exit into a dark, wintry blackness. It makes you feel you’ve achieved something with your Saturday. “Do anything nice at the weekend?” will come the universal work colleague question on Monday. Yeah. Yeah, I definitely did.

This is an article by David Marples for When Saturday Comes