Five drunks in a Transit Van | OneFootball

Or as 0therwise referred to, an away day in the 1980s.

I know that I may be a little biased but the early eighties were a truly wonderful time to be a football fan.

Everything about it was intoxicating, Everything.

Apart from the actual football that is.

Weekend after weekend Newcastle could put in such poor performance that it is difficult to find the right words to describe it. Probably because the the editor won’t let me use the appropriate swear words.

So how about this Newcastle United eleven:

Hardwick, Craggs, Saunders, Clarke, Haddock, Martin, Wharton, Bell, Keegan, Channon, Varadi

That’s the team that we put out for the 1982/83 away game at Gay Meadow.

You will not be surprised to hear we lost. We normally did away from home.

Winning on our travels was a bonus.

Following this club in 1982 was about much more than that.

Starting on a Friday night.

Sitting in the club, three pints into the session, when in comes a lad to announce that he had obtained the services of the works Transit Van.

“So, who is up for Shrewsbury v Newcastle tomorrow?”

Shrewsbury? Where is Shrewsbury?

It’s in Wales or somewhere near there.

Ok. So it’s just the eight hour round trip in the back of a van that normally had two cement mixers in it.

What’s the problem. Game on.

Saturday Morning.

Six bleary eyed individuals gather in the market square for the 220+ mile trip south. We are down on the number who signed up last night, due to a couple of lightweights not being able to handle the session that had got a bit out of hand and ended up in a dodgy nightclub in Birtley.

However, at least their absence gives us a little more room in the van.

We haven’t even made it to Durham before the lager cans have been opened and the tabs have been lit. By the time we reach Wetherby, the first stop of the day is required to allow everyone to get out and discharge their lager on the hard shoulder.

Somehow, I don’t see today’s fans stopping their SUV on the motorway to have a waz, but I could be wrong ?

I tell people that I have never smoked in my life. That is a lie. I smoked 20 tabs on each away trip in the back of these vans. We hadn’t heard of passive smoking back then.

The waz routine seemed to be repeated every 30 mins, until we finally arrived on the outskirts of Shrewsbury.

What I remember of this town is that it was a bigger version of Corbridge. Well heeled and sleepy.

That’s until the Geordies turned up.

Poor old retired squadron leader Arthur Pringle, the landlord of the Cross Keys Hotel, looks bemused and frightened as his establishment is invaded by more and more black and white clad individuals.

Very wisely, his regular at the bar, Mr Rees-Mogg, decided to leave early, before someone tried to make his golden retriever drink a pint.

We do get a quick visit from a couple of Nick Berry coppers, straight off the set of Heartbeat, but by then it’s time for the match.

A quick Google tells me there was 7,907 at this Shrewsbury v Newcastle match. My eyes told me there were around 5,000 of us. This was Keegan’s first year and the away following was bigger and better than ever.

We still got beat though, 2-1, after going ahead (Varadi – picture above).

So now it’s time for a quick pint and the four hour minimum drive home.

Its a hard slog as the fatigue starts to kick in. The day’s drinking and eating has also taken its toll on the lads’ digestive system. A serious effect.

There is now more methane circulating in the van than is produced by a herd of cows.

Probably best if no one strikes a match.

We are struggling to make it back for last orders so we convince the driver to stop in Richmond. Just for the one Davey, promise. Then we will be on our way.

By 22:30 Davey is a totally hacked off man. He is now threatening to leave “any of you drunken slobs behind” if they are not in the van in two minutes.

So we all pile in and next thing I know, Davey is waking us up, back in the market square.

We are home.

So we didn’t win again. I have spent a significant amount of my weekly wage watching a mediocre second division side get beat by a team that had 3,000 fans at most.

So what.

It was September 18th. 1982. It was on my birthday.