Here's our dear old BBG

[McRamFan]

I'm sure that the archives at Derby could help, I bet there are seats stashed away that you could compare?

[ilkleyram]

I'm too young to have been to this, what seems, a sacred place. So could any of you bee so kind to tell me what the atomsphere was like 'http://www.dcfcfans.co.uk/public/style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/smile' class='bbc_emoticon' alt=':)' />

Epidemic - for those of us lucky enough to have been at the BBG and asked to describe what it was like, we go, i think, back to the early seventies. But that doesn't cover the whole of the time that the BBG was operating. Something was lost when standing stopped; a lot was lost when we weren't doing so well; however frightening the violence was at times (and I'm not proud, looking back, of some of the things I got involved in then) there is no doubt that the tribalism, hooliganism, running through the streets, terrace aggro, added to what was the BBG 'atmosphere'.

There are four BBGs in my life - all wonderful in their own way:

The pre BC days. The days of Tim Ward, of Reg Matthews and Gordon Hughes of standing in the Ossie upper tier; of Kevin Hector first coming. History, but no success for many years. Division 2, mid table. Not huge crowds.

Then the arrival of BC. Promotion, excitement, star players, new players, comment in the press, success, big crowds, noise, Europe, big teams and players on the opposition. And then more success after BC left, with Dave Mackay. If possible, an even more fluent team with Charlie George, Bruce Rioch and Frannie Lee to add to the mix. Wembley. An FA cup semi final. More Europe.

On many of those match days the only question you would ask yourself would be how much will we win by, not will we win. The crowd on the terraces, packed together, swaying, chanting, moving, singing, clapping, fighting. The crowd in the stands joining in. The smell. The tightly packed ground where you could touch the players from the back of the terrace. On the coldest day it was red hot inside from closely packed bodies. Tv cameras most weeks (in the days when there were only highlights of about 3 matches on a Saturday). The crap pitch. The smell from Leys behind the ground; the smell of the ground itself - years of history absorbed by wooden stands. The echoes of the chants. The streets outside packed before and after; the chippy and, later, the beer. The bus ride home. The sheer physicality of being a supporter of the best team in England, in the best ground in England and the best team in Europe. Pride.

And then the slide. Colin Murphy, Colin Addison, Tommy Docherty. Boards and Chairman. Dwindling crowds though comparatively well supported still. Relegation. Past glories. Still terraces, still some good times, good games, good results and good players but living on a more recent history and great players a rarity. The high court and off the field problems; minutes from going out of business (God bless you still Stuart Webb). The BBG atmosphere was not good until Arthur came along and dragged us in three years back to the top, until the Maxwell pension fund took us down. And that at a moment when we could have moved onwards and upwards. We were still a workmanlike team though (even with Shilton and Wright and Saunders), made in Arthur's way. And we were wary of what was happening off the pitch. The BBG atmosphere then wasn't like it was in the late sixties to mid seventies, despite the success. We could sense this was temporary.

And then, later, seats and success with Jim. Glorious days some of them - the long unbeaten run; Palace at home to go up. Some nights and days that touched the heights of BC and Mackay, because Jim created what was a lesser team but one that played in a similar way. Great football. Marco and Simmo. And Lionel - our local man made good - was our guide and banker. And in Jim he had picked a good 'un, despite the early doubts. And in Igor we had a talisman. But we were still sitting and the BBG, for all the glory, was not quite the same. Starting to look its age, starting to be part of another era, a different time when TV didn't rule and the Premier League was Division 1.

It was right for us to move when we did. But boy oh boy were those good days great and even the bad days were good. For all its ups and downs the BBG knew how to put on a bloody good show. But she ran out of time. Like we all do I guess! Happy days. The best days.

[mozza]

that about sums it up, Great post, Mr ilkley... 'http://www.dcfcfans.co.uk/public/style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/biggrin' class='bbc_emoticon' alt=':D' />

[mozza]

i must be honest, i used to hope we'd go one down,

knowing we'd have a great fightback.. 'http://www.dcfcfans.co.uk/public/style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/laugh' class='bbc_emoticon' alt=':lol:' />

[Neo]

Epidemic - for those of us lucky enough to have been at the BBG and asked to describe what it was like, we go, i think, back to the early seventies. But that doesn't cover the whole of the time that the BBG was operating. Something was lost when standing stopped; a lot was lost when we weren't doing so well; however frightening the violence was at times (and I'm not proud, looking back, of some of the things I got involved in then) there is no doubt that the tribalism, hooliganism, running through the streets, terrace aggro, added to what was the BBG 'atmosphere'.

There are four BBGs in my life - all wonderful in their own way:

The pre BC days. The days of Tim Ward, of Reg Matthews and Gordon Hughes of standing in the Ossie upper tier; of Kevin Hector first coming. History, but no success for many years. Division 2, mid table. Not huge crowds.

Then the arrival of BC. Promotion, excitement, star players, new players, comment in the press, success, big crowds, noise, Europe, big teams and players on the opposition. And then more success after BC left, with Dave Mackay. If possible, an even more fluent team with Charlie George, Bruce Rioch and Frannie Lee to add to the mix. Wembley. An FA cup semi final. More Europe.

On many of those match days the only question you would ask yourself would be how much will we win by, not will we win. The crowd on the terraces, packed together, swaying, chanting, moving, singing, clapping, fighting. The crowd in the stands joining in. The smell. The tightly packed ground where you could touch the players from the back of the terrace. On the coldest day it was red hot inside from closely packed bodies. Tv cameras most weeks (in the days when there were only highlights of about 3 matches on a Saturday). The crap pitch. The smell from Leys behind the ground; the smell of the ground itself - years of history absorbed by wooden stands. The echoes of the chants. The streets outside packed before and after; the chippy and, later, the beer. The bus ride home. The sheer physicality of being a supporter of the best team in England, in the best ground in England and the best team in Europe. Pride.

And then the slide. Colin Murphy, Colin Addison, Tommy Docherty. Boards and Chairman. Dwindling crowds though comparatively well supported still. Relegation. Past glories. Still terraces, still some good times, good games, good results and good players but living on a more recent history and great players a rarity. The high court and off the field problems; minutes from going out of business (God bless you still Stuart Webb). The BBG atmosphere was not good until Arthur came along and dragged us in three years back to the top, until the Maxwell pension fund took us down. And that at a moment when we could have moved onwards and upwards. We were still a workmanlike team though (even with Shilton and Wright and Saunders), made in Arthur's way. And we were wary of what was happening off the pitch. The BBG atmosphere then wasn't like it was in the late sixties to mid seventies, despite the success. We could sense this was temporary.

And then, later, seats and success with Jim. Glorious days some of them - the long unbeaten run; Palace at home to go up. Some nights and days that touched the heights of BC and Mackay, because Jim created what was a lesser team but one that played in a similar way. Great football. Marco and Simmo. And Lionel - our local man made good - was our guide and banker. And in Jim he had picked a good 'un, despite the early doubts. And in Igor we had a talisman. But we were still sitting and the BBG, for all the glory, was not quite the same. Starting to look its age, starting to be part of another era, a different time when TV didn't rule and the Premier League was Division 1.

It was right for us to move when we did. But boy oh boy were those good days great and even the bad days were good. For all its ups and downs the BBG knew how to put on a bloody good show. But she ran out of time. Like we all do I guess! Happy days. The best days.

Great post ,but did you really have to go and mention THE. DOC !!! pass my pills.

[mozza]

Great post ,but did you really have to go and mention THE. DOC !!! pass my pills.

How can you say that !! when he signed Vic Moreland, Gerry Ryan and, errr and.. that other bloke

from Ireland, with the money used from selling Toddy, the greatest ever player the world has ever known..

ok, I see your point, why mention 'The Doc'..boooo..

[Brammie Steve]

How can you say that !! when he signed Vic Moreland, Gerry Ryan and, errr and.. that other bloke

from Ireland, with the money used from selling Toddy, the greatest ever player the world has ever known..

ok, I see your point, why mention 'The Doc'..boooo..

Absolutely 100% totally, unreservedly agree bro.

Todd is still certainly the finest player I have ever seen, and as we both saw him in action for the Rams. Selling him was one of the stupidest, most inexplicable acts which even a madman would not be thought capable of committing.

It is on a par with buying Derek Hales.

And allowing Clough and Taylor to depart from the Rams (Well maybe not quite, but nearly!)

It put me off TD for life as I realised that he just enjoyed destroying any team's chances of remaining great.