In our newest feature, Andrew Butterwick writes about his first time watching Lufc.
Dependent on whether your cup is half full or half empty, my first game was either the ultimate first game experience or a cruel, tantalising vision of what supporting Leeds United would be like.
The year is 1972 and this football mad youngster was excitedly on the bus to Beeston with my Dad to meet up with Grandad before going to see a proper live football game at Elland Road.
I remember walking down Beeston hill with the tingle of anticipation all around. We weren’t alone. It seemed like the whole of the city was heading the same way like an army of ants marching towards it’s prey.
The unmistakable mix of cigarette smoke and fried onions attacked my nostrils as the famous stadium came into sight. My eyes were as wide open as possible and my jaw was nestling nicely on a blue, yellow and white scarf tucked around my neck. I was already smitten and the game hadn’t even started.
Even though my eyes were firmly fixed on the stadium, I couldn’t help but notice not everybody was getting on with each other.
Gangs of fans with red, black and white scarves were marauding about looking for trouble. Tension was crackling as we approached the turnstiles. “Keep moving don’t stop until we’re in the ground” shouted Dad.
Inside the ground we made our way to the front of the Lowfields Road stand so I could see the game. The ground was packed and I was swaying in a sea of fellow Leeds fans.
The game went by in a flash. Leeds destroyed a Man United team decorated with star names such as Best and Charlton. Just 4 years earlier they had won the European Cup but they couldn't hold a candle to a Leeds side dripping with class; Jones, Giles, Bremner, Clarke, Cooper (in white boots), Lorimer and Gray ran riot to send the Lancastrians packing with a 5-1 scoreline.
I remember walking back up the hill after the game in dreamland. Leeds United were untouchable and they play at the end of my Grandad’s street. Fantastic!
By Andrew Butterwick