RedMemories

I decided to base this website on the 2nd Division as that was the season when I went to my first game at Old Trafford.Here are some of my memories from that season.
My first first team game at Old Trafford was the match against Bristol Rovers on the 21st of September 1974.This was an occasion that I'll never forget.
I have two older brothers,Phli and Paul,and they'd already started to go to the match.When I was 9 I decided that I'd like to go as well.It was two buses from where I lived in Eccles but I soon learned that the fare for the 2nd bus was saved as we made the long walk from Cross Lane to the ground.
We set off early in those days and I can still remember how the crowds became larger the closer we got to the ground itself.We stood on the Stretford End and I watched in amzement as the ground slowly but surely filled up.
The roar of the crowd as the United came out was something that I'll always remember.Don't forget,this was a home game against Bristol Rovers,but it could have been a Cup final such was the passion of the fans back then.It seemed the fans had a song for every player and it was sung until acknowledged by the player himself.For some reason,Martin Buchan never used to wave to the crowd.Any one else remember this?
United won the match 2-0 and it was great to get my United watching life off to a wining start.The fact that United were in the 2nd Division at the time didn't men a thing to me,I was just happy to be going to "the match".
My first away game,if you can call it that,was Blackpool.There were over 22,000 at the game and at leat 15,000 of those were United fans.It was like a home game with Reds everywhere.So this is what it meant to "take" somebody's ground?
Some other games that stick in my memory are:
The 4-0 home win over Oxford United a hat trick for Stuart Pearson.It was 4-0 at halt time and my naive young brain was waiting for the same again in the second.This game was televised by ITV and one of Pearson's goals is on a United video,"300 all time great goals".

The 3-2 home win over Sunderland when over 60,000 turned up for a 2nd Division match.The atmosphere was brilliant that day and the goals from this game can be seen on a BBC Video,"25 Years Of Match Of The Day-The 70's.Keep your eye on the crowd as the United goals go in.
I've since learned that Sundrland were chased out of the Scoreboard before that game.Being only 9 at the time,I didn't understand what was going on.
A 1-0 home win over Fulham.I think that promotion may have been achieved with this result as thousands of Reds stayed behind to celebrate after the game.Gerry Daly's goal is on that 300 Great goals video along with a few others from the 2nd Division season.Well worth a look for these alone.My brother Paul sent that out to me a few years ago and I think it's one of the best United videos out there.
The 2-2 draw with Notts County away.I wasn't at this game but remember seeing pictures in the Sunday papers of United fans taking the goalposts home.Anyone still got them?
To finish with,the 4-0 home win over Blackpool that saw the last full scale pitch invasion at Old Trafford.
We tried to get in the Stretford End that day but had the gates locked on us.We tried the Stretford Paddock but the same happened there and we eventually ended up in the Scoreboard Paddock.For some reason,there were no junior prices in that part of the ground and I had to pay full gate money.I remember being pissed off at the time as that was 3 packs of football cards?
After the game,The Doc announced over the PA that Manchester United supporters were the greatst in the world.Of course,he was right.

Steve.

Paul Kelly's memories from the 2nd Division season.

1974-75 season.Manchester United are in Division 2 of the old football league.Disaster had struck,the unthinkable had happened,United had been relgated.all was doom and gloom.Not a chance mate.That season is one of the most memorable since I started watching United,(and believeme,there have been a lot of seasons).
Where do I start?Obviously,the first match of the season,Leyton Orient away.Thousands travelled to London for this one and lo and behold,thousands were locked out,including yours truly.Next thing,down to the Orient end and down came the gates.In poured the United fans and out poured the Orient fans.I don't know what the official attendance was for that game but I'll bet it was double that in the ground.90 % of which were United fans.
First game of the season and we had taken the ground.This set the pattern for the rest of the season,although we met a lot tougher opposition at places like Cardiff,Millwall,Bristol,Sunderland and Villa.
SOME OTHER MEMORABLE MOMENTS

Oxford away-Where they hung out banners welcoming United to their peaceful town.It still got wrecked!
York away-United fans had three and a half stands in the ground and a major police operation tried to stop the fans from getting to the city centre.It failed,of course.
Cardiff away-United fans had to fight all morning to get into the ground,and fight all afternoon to get out again!Give them Taffs their due,they didn't make it easy.
Blackpool away-Not only did we take over the ground,but the whole town for a whole weekend.Hilarious scenes of drunken United fans throwing each other into the,fully clothed.
Sunderland home-Driving the Mackems out of the scoreboard.Originally startd by about 10 of us,but then the rest of the lads jumped in.
Blackpool home-Me getting on the pitch before the game and running around with the team and the Trophy.Started off in the United Road but ended up in the Stretford End after some copper chased me off.

Phil Done's memories of the 2nd Division.

First thing first,the website is brill.It brought back all the memories of a great time in my life.Back then things were so simple,school,girls and Man.United.
You asked me for my memories for the 1974-75 season.Well Steve,it was a long time ago but the things that stick in my mind are the walk up Trafford Road,over the swing bridge(where we always picked our spot for theowing the cockneys into the Manchester Ship Canal)round the bend and there it was,Old Trafford,the greatest sight in the world.
The closer you got,the bigger the crowd seemed to get.Then the smell of the hot dogs and onions,blokes selling everything from rossettes to scarves and there was always a bloke with a placard telling us the end was nigh!
Then it was decision time.Would it be the Tunnel in the Stretford End or the Scoreboard End?A quick look at the queues and we would decide.Once inside,you could smell the greatness of Manchester United.
When the players came out,we would always cheer their names until we got a wave.Was it Buchan who never responded?
Well Steve,74 was a good year for me.I was in the official Mancheser United supporters club,went to every game and lost my virginity with Barbara Brooks at the back of Ladywell Hospital.How's that for a good year?
By the way,Ladywell Hospital is no more,but Brooks' bike shop is still going strong!

Phil Done-Eccles

Paul Kelly remembers a day trip to York.Not quite like the trip I had there with the school years later!!

YORK CITY (away)
One memory that really sticks in my mind is going to York and the old bill marched us round the city wall to the ground.Anyway,after a while word spread to take the piss out of the old bill and on a shout everyone (about 600-700) just stopped in their tracks, the old bill in front of us carried on walking for about 20-30 yards before they realised.As they stood gawping at us and wondering what the fuck was going on,the Manchester la-la-la-la, chant started up and everyone headed full pelt at the line of old bill.You should have seen their faces, it was fucking hilarious, we stopped just short of them and the march to the ground carried on.This happened about 10 times before we got to the ground, needless to say the old bill were glad to see the back of us.

Andrew Burton remembers Orient away.

Subject: Orient away
I wasn't allowed to go to old Trafford for the city derby, my dad and brother
went, I was only a 9 year old nipper, I watched the debauchery on telly that
night , and saw the look of horror on my dads face when he arrived home that
night(my brother buggered off to Wigan casino after). one long summer later
it was a bright sunny Saturday in august, we took the train to euston, and
the tube to orient. when we came out there were reds everywhere never have I
experienced a scene like that since I'd never been to an away game. this was
my first. we got into line to get in and by about 1. pm the crush was
horrible they lined us up on the pavement 4 deep and god knows how long that
line was. so at 9 I was getting well crushed, I was pulled out of the line by
a copper,straight into the face of a police horse I nearly shit meself.so out
of line barley breathing, my dad gives the day up as a lost cause.low and
behold the copper puts me my dad and brother in the front of the line. with
all honesty I can say we were the first 3 people in that ground. and had a
birds eye view of all the fun and games to commence within the hour. the
funniest bit was watching the red army literally kick down the stand with the
old corrugated sheeting and very nearly topple the television gantry complete
with camera crew and announcer. I felt like I was a part of a family that day
and have done ever since.

John remembers Sheffield Wednesday away.

Of all my memories of the second division the game at Sheffield Wednesday was perhaps the most funniest and most violent days out of the whole campaign. Usually a load of us would hire a transit van and set off with the usual case of ale, funny smoking material, porno mags and a good day would be had by all (except the driver), but for this game my dear wife gave the big ultimatum ''i'd like to go shopping in Sheffield'' well a married man can only get away with so much so I reluctantly agreed. Arranging to meet the lads in the ground I set off by car with wife and her friend, dropped them off in the city centre arranging to pick them up at 6.00 o'clock at the station then headed off to the ground, parked up, scarf around each wrist and straight in to their end which was as usual filling up nicely with reds, well the locals did not take to kindly to this red invasion and carnage and mayhem did prevail for most of the 90 minutes, but when Big Jim Holton broke his leg it was the signal for the most violent clashes I have witnessed in a football ground, the poor coppers didn't know what to do with so many scraps going on and the site of a line of police horses along the edge of the pitch made for good pictures in the sunday papers.
Anyway I managed to survive without to much damage and headed back to my car and off to pick the wife up, but managed to get lost and drove around the city centre for about half an hour till I managed to find the station
and arrived just as the red army was descending, coppers were everywhere, sirens and blue light flashing and the sight of my wife and friend scared shitless behind a line of old bill was the funniest thing i'd seen in ages,
anyway as you might have guessed she never asked to go with me again to an away game, so the normal transit van service was resumed.

Cheadle John.

Steve Daly(not the ex bitter!)remembers the Blackpool home game.

After watching Norwich play at Old Trafford a month earlier, my earliest vivid
OT experience was the first home game after Manchester United had clinched the
Second Division championship at The Dell. The excitement at Old Trafford for the
homecoming celebration match again Blackpool was breathtaking to a 7 year old
tot. As you can imagine, the sight of tens of thousands of United fans
scampering to see the triumphant Reds parade the trophy was awesome to a young
lad.

In those days, the adult and children entrances at the Stretford Paddock of the
hallowed ground of Manchester United were through turnstiles separated by 50
yards or more. In people terms, this added up to a barrier of 1 or 2 thousand.
Well, we waited in our queue, and our parents joined theirs hidden by a teeming
crowd of jubilant Reds.

Sighting growing numbers of lads, both teens and older men, scurrying up iron
downpipes to enter open windows 20 or 30 feet up the brick elevation of the
Stretford Paddock, our nervousness started to rise. As we neared the turnstiles,
we could see the gates being locked at one then another - in turn, the frenzied
efforts of fans snowballed as their fervour turned into frustration.

Dejected, we searched for our mum and step-father having conceded defeat in our
vain attempt to experience the thrill of this wonderful occasion. As police
horses forced fans to flee the perimeter of the stadium, we sought safety atop a
wall nearby. Our misery multiplied at each and every roar from within the
terraces. I recall there were plenty of early goals as Blackpool suffered at the
hands of a team in celebratory mood. As the crowd scattered, we scoured the
loitering shapes, in vain, for familiar faces so that we could go home.

When an unsympathetic policeman approached us, on horseback, to move us along,
we pleaded our dilemna until another intervened to save the day. Understanding
our helplessness, we were escorted to the police control centre where we were
made welcome with a cup of tea and biscuits.[Shrewdly, the police made the most
of their providential guardianship and provided us with graphic examples of the
nasty excesses of football hooliganism. I only remember one comical picture of a
Chinese star embedded in a police helmet, presumably because it seemed to stand
apart from the other gory images of injured fans I have wisely forgotten.]

We were informed that an announcement would be made in the stadium to alert our
folks, and so were expecting them to collect us soon enough. The sooner the
better, as I had tired of the photos and tea, only wanting one thing, to see
the source of this sensational day - Manchester United.

Half-time arrived, then disappeared without any sign of our parents. Life sucks!
We discovered later that the noise inside the ground had drowned out any hopes
of the tannoy being heard by anyone. This day was turning into a long, tedious
nightmare. That is until our minders suggested we might be happier watching the
game. In hindsight, I have always suspected this had more to do with relieving
them to prepare for the expected pandemonium at the final whistle. Hurrah for
common sense!

The course of events from that second onwards are a hazy blur of excitement,
euphoria and ecstasy. From the police command post we were escorted down the
player's tunnel and seated on the substitute's bench on the gravel perimeter. I
was a yard or more from the turf of Old Trafford, marvelling at the giants
performing theron, and sitting alongside the players and training staff, of
which team remains a mystery to this day. I don't really care if it was the
Blackpool bench, it was the player's bench. From here, I could sense the whole
stadium roaring in absolute rapture, and I occupied the epicentre of all this
cacophonous explosion of vocal celebration.

I have no recollection of the match progress, nor the final whistle except for
the abiding memory of the match's final moments. In a trance, I was rooted to
the spot at the closing stages of the game. My only clue, that it was all over,
was the vision of the players' breakneck flight to escape to the safety of the
changing rooms. In the twinkle of an eye, supporters swarmed onto the pitch.

At first, tens, then hundreds, then what seemed like thousands were stampeding
straight towards me. I was paralysed by fear. As they hurtled closer, I closed
my eyes in the hope of divine intervention. After a few short seconds, seconds
which felt like hours and days, I became aware that the deadly charge was
skirting past me.

Calmed, I opened my eyes. There's calm before the storm, is what they say. Well,
I will fondly remember that tempest of human carcass for the rest of my life.
Backwards, I fell into the concrete dugout, carried by the momentum of the
throng. Only to suffer the ignominy of people's boots, elbows and bodies raining
down on me, from which I escaped miraculously unscathed.

The events after this are an innocuous blur, except to recall that we were taken
by foot to Trafford police station where some hours later our parents rescued us
from their ignorant attentions.

Importantly, this memory has enormous personal significance. In my mind, I was
the luckiest kid alive. I have been cast under the spell of the Reds, fated to
worship at the altar of the religion that is United. Old Trafford is undoubtedly
deserving of its label, 'The Theatre of Dreams'. If only I can prove this dream.

My parents retain only a feint recollection. Film footage or still images which
clearly show me on the substitutes' bench during this amazing game will lift me
into seventh heaven.

Steve Daley
Gorse Hill & Middleton