I had several good reasons to make the Memorial Stadium in Bristol my next destination. First of all, I do work in a WW1 museum, and the Memorial Stadium was – as the name indicates – built as a memorial for the Rugby players of Bristol who lost their lives in the Great War.

Fittingly, the first two indications that you are approaching the ground, when you walk down the Gloucester Road are two signs by a church on the other side of the road.

And fittingly you have to pass through the memorial gate to get to the stadium. I have read that there is a ceremony at the home fixture closets to Remembrance Sunday and on Remembrance Day. But, alas, my visit was a week or two too early for that.

Secondly, I am currently doing research on the emerging entertainment industry in the late 19th and early 20th Century. And the stadium was actually built on the Buffalo Bill ground, where his Wild West Show performed in 1891. Not that there are any traces of it. But having walked the long way down Gloucester Road to get here, you cannot help wonder what the place looked like in those day. Was it way out in the countryside? When was the the terraced housing next to the ground built?

Thirdly, Bristol Rovers – although owners of the ground – consider themselves homeless (even though the scarf I bought said “Memorial Stadium – Home of Bristol Rovers”). Founded in 1883, the club moved to Eastville Football and Cricket ground in 1897. It was located next to the Stapleton gasworks, which is why Rovers are still called the gasheads or the gas, even though they seem to officially use the nickname “The Pirates”.

Rovers entered the football league in 1920, but couldn’t quite match the gates of rivals Bristol City. Therefore they decided to expand the ground – moving the end terraces back – to accomodate a dog track, giving them a steady income. Still, they struggled financially, and in 1939 sold the ground to the greyhound company to pay off their debts. That came back to haunt them in 1979, when the lease of the ground came up for renewal. They were not prepared to meet the demands of the greyhound company, and to add insult to injury, the main stand containing all the club records burned down.

Negotiations finally broke down in 1982 – and Rovers made a deal with Bristol City in stead. But then City went into liquidation, and the new earners wanted to double the rent. Rovers had to go back to the Greyhounds, before in 1986 setting up a deal with Bath City. They had 10 succesfull years there, but it was not in their hometown, and an 1996 they got the opportunity to join the rugby team at the Memorial.

Then the rugby club hit financial problems, and Rovers bought the ground to help them out – only for the rugby team to move to rivals Bristol City in 2014. Still, Rovers seemed to have found a way to turn the ownership of the Memorial to good use, as they made a deal with Sainsbury to buy it – and this would finance the building of a new stadium at the university grounds. Once the plans for the new stadium were approved, however, Sainsbury pulled out of the deal. And they are still battling that one out at the courts.

So – the big question – what is the home of a homeless football club like?

The fourth and final reason why I had to choose the Memorial was that my nephew is currently in Bristol as an exchange student. I took him to his first match in Denmark more than 15 years ago. It was quite memorable. We were standing on the end terrace enjoying a pre-match sausage with plenty of ketchup, talking, when a stray shot from the players warm-up hit us. The ketchup splashed all over us. We spent ten minutes in the Gents’ room trying to wash it off. But I never managed to get the red stains off my clothes. I wonder, what was in that ketchup. Now was the time to take him to his first match in England.

To take the food, and the ketchup, first, we went inside the small stadium pub/café to try Irene’s kitchen. It sounds promising – Irene’s.

In fact, Goodnight Irene is the anthem of Bristol Rovers. We read a quite funny story of how it came to be so. Back in 1950, Plymouth Argyle visited Eastville and brought along an accordion player, who played top hits of the day prior to the match. One of them “Goodnight Irene”. When Plymouth took the lead, they taunted the Bristol supporters with the song. But then Rovers hit three goals in 10 minutes, and now the Rovers fans sang “Goodnight Argyle” – and it stuck.

Alas, Irene’s cooking leaves a lot to be desired. You can understand the lyrics:

“Sometimes I live in the country, Sometimes I live in the town,
Sometimes I have a great notion, To jump in to the river and drown.
Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight,
Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene,
I’ll see you in my dreams.”

But the atmosphere in here is good. I do my routine count of the first 100 people who passes by me. 91% male. 100 % white. The impression inside the ground is roughly the same.

We spend some time in the matchday souvenir outlet, chatting with staff and supporters. They are mainly interested in discussing Danish beer, but I want to know what they think of their “home”. “It is not our home”. The answer is quite clear. “Young fans might feel different. But Eastville is our home”. So to them, the deal with Sainbury cannot be solved quick enough. “We had some tremendous years in Bath, but it was their ground”.

Later, inside the ground, we chat with the Bristol supporter next to us. He agrees. It is not a home. It is not proper football ground. It is a rugby ground – that actually looks a bit like a cricket ground. He went to Eastville as a kid, but not long enough to develop a strong “home feeling”. Still, he is a bit mixed about the stadium plans. New stadiums are all the same. And they are all-seater. Here at the Memorial, you have terraces, in fact, of the 11.000 capacity, there are only 3.000 seats. And that you will loose in a modern stadium. And that is what football is about.

On the other hand, you won’t get families and corporate deals to the ground with the current facilities. And that is the way to generate revenue in the modern game. And that is what you have to do to survive.

Our new friend comes from a family that have been Rovers fans for generations. In fact, his father and sister are among the stewards for tonight’s game. He could never support another team. Not having a proper home does not come into the way of a strong club identity.

And there is a homely feeling to the ground. For instance, the programme seller. She met when we arrived before the match, and as she now sits in a programme stall, I choose that one for purchasing my programme. “Why are you taking those photos?”. “I am writing a blog on football grounds.” “Put a photo of me on that blog” – here you are!

We also see the players arriving. It is not like the big premier league grounds, where you are kept away from them by barriers and stewards. A girl is waiting for them with her family. She gets all the autographs – and ask the players for a hug afterwards. Almost all of them oblige.

It might be that it doesn’t look like a football ground with the random stands around the ground – but I really like it. Standing on terraces just generate a better atmosphere. PEople are chatting all over the terrace, standing next to their mates. In all-seaters, it is so quiet when the game is not calling for ooohhs and aaahhhs. Here, there is all the time the sound of talking and banter. Next to me, there is about 10 teenage boys. Jumping around, pushing each other, making fun. They wouldn’t have such a good time if they were seated next to each other in a row.

The away support is not very big. And it is hidden on a small terrace without roof on the other side of the big seater-stand. Down that end, there is very temporary looking seater-stand behind the goal. But a big gap right at the corner. It looks odd. And it doesn’t generate the bowl atmosphere. But still, the atmosphere in the north bank, where we are standing is quite good.

Unfortunately, we don’t get a goal to lift it further. I am really impressed with the football played by Bristol Rovers in the first half. It is quick, controlled, good movement, overlaps on the wings, direct aggresive runs from midfield – and they play themselves out of awkward situations at the back. And only a couple of time do they loose possession by poor control or passing. It certainly is above the League 2 football I saw last season, where the warming up for the defenders was heading or kicking away crosses. It is all quite delicate. One of the centre backs is perhaps not quite up to technical football at that level – I really identify with him! – but is very good at deciding, when he has to whack it up field. Only a couple of times in the first half, more often in the second. But the closest to scoring, is a shot from 10 yards against the underside of the crossbar.

In the second half, Notts County take the sting out of the match, and also create a couple of good chances themselves. So – perhaps – it is fair that they get away with a point.

We leave the ground and walk the long way back to the city centre. Only two other fans walk all the way.

It is strange how you come to sympathize and indentify with a club, once you visit and chat with their fans. Somehow, I got the feeling that perhaps not despite but because they don’t have a home – but a history of homelessnes – the Bristol Rovers fans have such a strong club feeling.

It is a far cry from the Premiership – and glory hunting fans. And maybe far better.

I must admit that the DW stadium in Wigan wasn’t on my top 10 of stadiums to visit. It is one the stadiums of the 1990’s and there is no immediate danger of it being demolished. There is, though, a very immediate danger that Wigan may be relegated from the championship, so perhaps it was last call to see football at that level at the DW.

  x

I must also admit that I am no great fan of the stadiums from that decade. They were built after the Taylor report, so they are designed as all-seater stadiums, they are designed to give a decent view of the field from every seat. As much as I like, for instance, Upton Park and Goodison Park, the view from the seats that I have had, has been rather poor – at Upton Park away in a corner almost beneath the pitch, at Goodison Park with a pillar in front of me. Well, no such complaints about the 90’s grounds. But they were built before money really became big in football, and that really tells. They may be functional externally, but they are so drab. Standardized concrete and grey corrugated iron. You could just as well be in a parking house. It pretty much looks like that.

The distinguishing features of the DW are basically the curved shape of the roofing on the main stands and a Wigan crest put on the outside wall. That is just about it.

Like most grounds from that decade, the four stands are separate buildings with gaps between them, allowing the wind inside the ground, whirling around. Fortunately, this was not a windy night, but I know how bad it can be, having been in Stoke on a windy day. In this way, the Wigan ground distinguish itself from the ground of their neighbours and rivals Bolton, whose ground is two years older, but with a little more characteristics and a bowl shape. But there are common features, such as the grounds change their names with sponsors and owners, and have been built on what was probably cheap land. The stadiums are not attached to or grown from a residential area. Bolton’s (and Stoke’s for that matter) look like aMcDonalds or a service station dropped along a highway. Wigan’s – like Millwall’s – look like they have taken over a piece of land nobody else wanted, tucked away behind carparks or garages. The lack of a living neighbourhood and a proper name must, I imagine, make it difficult for the fans to develop the same passionate relationship with the ground, as they probably had with their old ground. Craven Cottage, for instance, oozes history and tradition. The name, the cottage, the stand. Just the mentioning of the name unfolds a long tradition. The way the ground has developed to adapt to new modes of consuming football materializes that history. And along with that memories of a life time for any fan who has attended.

Speaking as a Manchester United supporter, I find it in many ways sad that the ground has been altered completely. But most of the surroundings are the same as when I visited first time some 40 years ago. And whenever I walk to the ground, memories come flooding back. I have (so far) never lived in the same place for more than 15 years, never worked or gone to school in a place for more than 13 years. The only two places that have constantly been part of my life for the last 40 years are Old Trafford and Valby Idrætspark in Denmark. Therefore they entail a narrative of memories from childhood over youth to being middle-aged. Attached to the names and to the roads leading to the grounds. To me, it must seem so barren to have your ground relocated to a wasteland, with a changeable sponsor name attached to it.

Anyway, Friday night in Wigan! I am a bit late, as I get off the train at Wigan North West – less than an hour to kick-off. A kid with a Wigan jacket and four adults look like they are on their way to the ground, and I ask them if they mind me following them. John, a journalist, is actually a Sheffield United supporter and two of the others support Tottenham and Liverpool respectively. But they have agreed to offer their beleaguered Wigan friends some much-needed support. I tell about my groundhopping project – and when I ask them about the grounds they like, I get the impression that they agree wth me. For apart from Bramall Lane, White Hart Land and Anfield Road, they mention Goodison Park and Upton Park.

They stop for a drink in a pub close to the ground, but with only 30 minutes to kick-off and still without a ticket I go straight to the ground – and straight to a very slow moving queue for the two boxes that sell match tickets. I eventually get my ticket with less than 10 minutes to kick-off, so there is neither time for a snack outside or the obligatory look inside the club shop.

My ticket is for the East Stand. There are two entrances to it, but once you are inside there is one single, spaceful, throughgoing concourse with two snack-outlets and two beer-outlets. I like it, even though it is very sparse and strictly functional. No decorations, no ceilings, no attempt to make it feel like a special space for Wigan fans.

As there is no queue, I grab a steak ‘n ale pie to take with me in the stand. And I just manage to get to my seat high up in section ES2 as the players line up for kick-off. I had asked the girl in the ticket office to be located in the most vocal part of the ground – and only 3 seats away from me, two guys are standing, leading the singing and chanting with their drums.

And they and everyone else to my right are standing, whereas just a couple of seats to my left, people are seated. It seems that I have got a place in the hardcore section. There are a lot of teenagers, but the dominant feature is that it is white men – with a few women mixed in. We are close to the 3-400 Charlton supporters who have made the trip from London. They have the entire North Stand to themselves.

The Wigan fans certainly are quite vocal at the start of the match, singing “just can’t get enough” and chanting “blue army”. And the two-syllabled w-chants here are less offensive than in other grounds.

Somehow, the ground doesn’t look quite as dull as some of the other 90’s grounds. Remarkably there are no hospitality boxes (although they do have a fancy Italian restaurant with entrance from the street), but they have made platforms for disabled in all sections of the ground, and not just in one place, which is a nice feature.

After a first few scrappy minutes, Wigan start to dominate. Plenty of possession, a few nice moves, and plenty of pace and penetration from nr. 18 Ojo down the right flank. They carve out quite a few good openings – but either the final pass is astray, a Charlton defender gets in a late tackle, or the finishing is poor. And after 17 minutes Wigan midfielder William Kvist goes down injured in a challenge, Charlton break and score from their first meaningful attack.

Plenty of frustration around, but it is quickly forgotten in the 23^rd minute, when everybody gets to their feet and applauds Wigan’s number 23 Juan Garcia who is suffering from leukimea. It is, however, by now evident that Wigan are a team near the bottom, lacking in confindence. They stil retain possession, but the frequency of unforced errors is higher now – and you sense that they are vulnerable on the break. And in first half injury time, Wigan again loses a tackle in midfield, Charlton breaks, the ball is put into the box, where a single Charlton player outjumps three Wigan defenders and heads it in. A fan in the row in front of me is about to explode. He rips off his shirt and is about to hurl it away, when he probably realizes how cold it is. He stops in his tracks, and in stead he pushes his way out, down to the concourse, cursing and swearing. It is too much to bear. 66% possession. Charlton have had only two meaningful attacks, both on the break after poor challenges – but still, you are somehow not surprised.

I go down for some warmth and a snack during the break. Nobody really seems to believe that Wigan can get back into this one. Everybody seems to be doing a post mortem. The second half gets under way, and as a Wigan player makes a slip, the Charlton fans sing “that’s why you’re going down”, and a couple of slips later, the Wigan fans sing “that’s why we’re going down”. And as the Charlton fans become increasingy boyant, the Wigan fans sing: “we lose every week, you’re nothing special, we lose every week”.

Most of us sit down now. The guys with the drums make a few halfhearted attempts to get the crowd going, but realize that right now, everybody is looking for their own way of coming to terms with defeat and probable relegation. Some are just silently watching in disbelief, some leave the ground midway through the second half, some are angrily telling each other what is wrong – others cheer the team and especially their goalkeeper ironically.

To top it all, the rain starts to lash down. The Charlton fans in the front rows hurry further up the stand for shelter. That is really the worst thing about seating at football matches; when the seats are not protected from the rain. Now it is the rain that makes most of the noise, banging against the roof. On the wet pitch, Charlton look increasingly dangerous on the break, and two minutes from the end, Chris Eagles makes its 3-0.

As I didn’t have time to go to the souvenir shop before the match, I make my way around the ground to visit it. But it is closed. Everything seems to be closed. Wigan seem to be closed. At least the rain has stopped, as I cross the bridge on my way away from the ground. A Wigan supporter behind me tempts fate when he asks his mates which would have been worse; that Charlton had got a fourth goal or the rain still had been lashing down. Before they can answer, the rain starts to lash down again. As I reach a public road, a taxi approaches. I run towards it from one side, two Wigan fans from the other. “Did you get it first?” they ask. “Where are you going?” I ask back. They are going to the town centre, so we share. And at least we don’t get soaked like the other fans.

There is an hour before train departure. I look for a place where I can have a warm coffee, but on a Friday night, only night clubs seem to be open in Wigan, so I sit down at the station. A few soaked, teenage Wigan fans arrive at the ground. They sit there in their wet replica shirts, somewhere between defiance and despair. That is the making of true fans. Sticking out for your team despite cold, rain, defeat and potential relegation.

The waiting room is gradually taken over by other football tourists. A couple of Norwegians, a contingent of German speaking fans, a group of Asian visitors. Just before train departure, the group, I met on my way up, arrives. I nod – but somehow I feel that it would be intruding to talk to them. I know how bad you can feel in defeat. And in that situation, you don’t want to chat to some stranger, who might hurt your feeling by asking stupid questions. A sad day. But a part of the game – and the ones that make the good days feel great.

If football had been invented today, Nottingham wouldn’t have happened. Two top football grounds only separated by the River Trent. And – on the Notts County side admittedly also a carpark. Today, they would have gone for one club and either built a parking house or a shop/and shirt printing centre. But there they are, two grounds crammed in close to the city centre. Notts County’s ground, Meadow Lane, was in fact completely rebuilt in the 1990’s. It shows – massive, ugly, grey constructions. But compared to other new 90’s stadiums, they have somehow managed to keep their own identity

They have put up the text telling that this is the oldest football league club. They have kept a foundation for the Spion Kop end that indicates what a kop-stand used to be. And they have memorial plaques for deceased fans on the stadium wall

You get a sense of history, of tradition. Notts County fans have been here for more than 100 years. The exterior may look different, but there are historical roots here.

Even though the two Nottingham clubs have not merged, they have realized that there are benefits of cooperation. The Notts County car parks are hired out to Nottingham Forest fans when they are playing. And Nottingham Forest fans are aparently having a drink in the Notts County pubs.

And, in fact, the Nottingham Forest supporters club welcomes visiting fans inside.

Nottingham Forest’s City Ground is arguably one of the most beautifully located grounds in the country. Right on the banks of the River Trent, The Trent End stand has also been built in the 1990’s, but it still looks good from the bridge across the river, whereas the Brian Clough stand, which is also from the 90’s is rather drab looking.

The Bridgford Stand and the main stand are not quite as drab looking, and what is more, there is plenty of life around.

Pubs, shops, houses, stalls. The stadium and the surroundings are organically connected – certainly compared to modern grounds built in the middle of nowhere.

You sense that Forest is a big club. The stuff sold from the stalls, old supporters with badges, pins and scarves seventies-ish style. And it is really a social event. People know where to gather to chat with friends.

Normally, I would go for the fish n’ chips, but the queue is so long – and I stay in Crewe with the best fish ‘n chips shop I have visited – so I go for a beef burger near the ground. While I eat, I decide to make a completely unscientific research into the crowds demographics. I look count the first 100 fans to pass me according to gender and etnicity. Result? Exactly 90% male and 10 female. 100% white. A random test – but I have seen nothing to suggest that it is widely off the mark. I think Manchester United and Arsenal are the only grounds I have visited, where it has not been the case.

I have asked for a ticket to the part of the ground with the best atmosphere, and I am put in the Bridgford Stand that used to be for visiting supporters only. Now half of it has been allocated to home fans. I am put almost in the front line towards the Bolton fans. There are two tiers in the stand.  A net is hung to prevent supporters from the upper tier throwing missiles at the away supporters.

Most of the supporters in this section are young (and white male! – although not all of them). I guess that they have ‘just moved’ in and now constitute the avantgarde in relation to the away supporters. Certainly, in the second half as Forest are safe with a three goal cushion, there is a bit of banter between our section and the section nearest to us in the main stand, also Forest supporters. Like us, they are standing throughout the match.

“You’re not famous anymore”, our section sings towards them. I cannot hear their reply, but they get a “A stand, sing us a song, A stand, A stand, sing us a song”. That there is a generational devide is the chant “we pay your benefits” towards them.

That, however, was in the second half, where the Bolton support had resigned to defeat. Three goals down, down to ten men with their captain sent off, their goalkeeper and one defender stretchered off – and former Forest favourite Emile Heskey in an unlike position as central defender. “Englands, number five, England’s England’s number five” is the chant toward him. More provocatotive are the chants “Heskey, give us a wink” from the Forest fans that he actually responds to.

Forest had taken an early lead – a lead which was doubled by an incredible solo effort from Forest star Antonio, running half the length of the pitch, beating three men in the process, before belting the ball into the top corner. So the atmosphere is brillant in our section. Singing all along, chanting at the Bolton support in the first half, and the A stand in the second.

With Forest winning 4-1, the sun even shining for part of the half, plenty of good actions, a phantastic ground,  and a 20.000+ crowd , the ingredients were there for a brillant footballing day. And it didn’t disappoint.