Millwall football club

I went to see Millwall recently for the first time in over 12 years. My 24 year old son has followed Millwall since he was about 5 years old. His mate couldn’t go so I got an invite. I am in good company. The Chief Executive of Peabody is a Millwall supporter.

Football has been an important part of J2’s maturing process.  For years, as quite a young teenager, I thought he went to South London with his dad or older mate.  It wasn’t until years later I found out he usually went alone, navigating his way across London from Luton and keeping himself safe in the crowd.

What do I want to say about it? What did I think had changed?

Football venues generally are great because there are no queues in the ladies’ toilet and the local cafes do excellent value meals.

I thought it was policed brilliantly. A lot of people crowded back on to South Bermondsey station after the game and they channelled people along the way in a very low key, but highly effective crowd control way. I liked the horses obviously, but they had gone by the time we left.

Very few people wore football shirts or colours which I thought was far more predominant in the past. There were a lot of suits and smart gear. J2 said adults don’t wear shirts, only kids, but I am sure they did. My boss says it’s a protest against the commercialisation of football.

There was no racist shouting, just a lot of use of the f word and the c word. It had its moments of crowd surge and tension which gets you in the pit of the stomach. They didn’t shout ‘Millwall’ but ‘Wall’ – is this text speak? And MURRRRGH VERY loudly.

Only one person stood out in the game for me – the Birmingham Centre who was shorter than everyone else, but stocky, could run fast and was noticeable for his vision and composure and sending beautiful crosses in front of the goal. The Millwall team were all gangly arms and legs, couldn’t turn with the ball and kept hoofing it everywhere.

 

Where I sat in the Cold Blow End you could see the top of the shard.