Chelsea away back in the day – Going in the Shed End as a Newcastle United fan was interesting | OneFootball

Two Newcastle United ballots for Premier League home matches down and no tickets.

Watching the walking man and eventually getting into a website that has ghost tickets for sale.

Ah well, there is always the next ballot.

Living in London, it has been a bit of a bind getting tickets for games. I doff my cap as always to my mates who have always done their utmost to try and get me tickets for games, whether it be the young lads from Wallsend or the older guys from Gossy.

Last season, I ended up getting tickets for a number of away matches in the home end for games, so we could get to see our team live. This is not the first time I have been unable to get tickets in the Newcastle away end I have ended up in amongst the opposition’s fans.

I even got a ticket in the Man U end at St James’ Park back in the 90s which ended up in a punch up and me being ejected from the ground.

So, this weekend I have a chance of a few beers with my old mate Mike Jackson and no doubt about it, talk of games we went to in the 1990s.

One particular day, when unable to get tickets in the away end, we all agreed that we would pay into the Shed End at Chelsea and beforehand have a few shandies in the local bars.

We decided to meet at twelve at a local pub on Fulham Broadway near the station. Mike assures me it is a good boozer and there will be no bother.

As I approach the traditional London Pub there is a skinhead standing at the door. Decked in American flying jacket (Sham Army style) skin-tight bleached jeans and eighteen hole oxblood Doc Martens. All this while sporting a Chelsea badge tattoo on half of his face. The days of tattoos not being what they are today. It was a tattoo that put me and my mates’ Punk Rock tattoos firmly in the shade.

This was the agreed venue though, so in we go.

Me and Little Dave have freshly shaven heads and both wearing Fred Perry and Engineer boots but Sheeps Heed with his curly blonde girl’s haircut, well that’s another story and could be an issue we subconsciously recognise. Sheeps Heed I must say was an obnoxious aggressive fellow and always up for a fight.

We enter the packed lion’s den full of Chelsea lads. Mike already stood at the bar, sees me and shouts across “Greg owa here”, immediately giving away who we are. Mike by the way with shaved head and suitably attired in flying jacket and boots, looking the part, has racked up the pints on the bar.

As all the eyes in the pub are on us now, I order a round of whiskey chasers as anaesthetic, as I fear we may not be getting out of here without incident. As it happens, all the Chelsea lads giving us the eyeball, obviously aware we are Geordies, seem to give us a begrudging respect and we manage to navigate a potential situation and exit the Chelsea bar without having to interact too much with the locals.

And so on to the next Chelsea bar for pints of cooking lager and more Bells chasers.

Fuelled by alcohol we are now up for the Shed and duly pay in. This is post-Heysel and so the fences have been taken down (the disgraceful chairman at Chelsea had once wanted to put electric fences up), so we move to the front of the terracing for easy access onto the pitch, should our accents get rumbled and it all kicks off when we celebrate scoring a goal.

As it happens, there is no celebrating by me and the lads as we are beaten one nil if I remember right. As we trudge out the crumbling ground on a damp winter evening, I hear a few Geordie accents around me.

This upcoming season I do not hold out much hope for us and tickets for many games. Though I will persevere for my daft teenage lad.

I expect I will be in the home end amongst the opposition fans a lot more this season. However, that is nothing new for me living down here.