The Kingsholm Experience

The Shed
By kwin
April 28 2003

“Hmm, that’s brave - it’s not really a family experience at Kingsholm, you know” said a colleague, ominously, when I told him what I was planning for the weekend.

“But you’ll be all right as long as you keep clear of the terracing", added Cassandra, "Whereabouts are you sitting, then?” “Ummmm…”

I blame my friend - he'd organised it and he booked the tickets: us two, six primary school age children (three each) and one Granddad.  Standing on the Terraces was certainly going to be something different. But I knew we’d be OK – children that have braved - and even enjoyed -  Vicarage Road  in January, or Beziers in August, need fear no stadium, and they can banter as well as the next child.

But just to be on the safe side, I counselled they shouldn't wear their shiny new bright pink, Quins Ponchos as distributed at the Mighty Quins Training day last week. “Why not dad?” “No particular reason, son”

Before going I researched my options on the Glos message board and, cheered by their enthusiastic, optimistic and helpful suggestions, I knew we’d enjoy ourselves. With only ground tickets we settled on the Worcester Street Stand as our Terrace of choice, and I told the dubious kids they should consider themselves privileged to be able to stand up for a couple of hours, and actually they’d get the closest, best view they’d ever had at a ZP game. We set off brightly at 10.30 and soon passed the Quinssa coach chugging up the M4.

We broke our journey in the in Cowley, a beautiful little Gloucestershire village with a charming old pub/restaurant. Indeed (and fortunately for this article) The Green Dragon turned out to be a handy metaphor for the whole county: with a couple of red-faced yokels propping up the bar, cider in hand, discussing the lambing season, surrounded by three fresh faced, blond-haired families in Lands End chinos and matching Fat Face fleeces, tucking in to traditional Gloucestershire fare of Parmesan Gnocchi, Chestnut Mushrooms & White Truffle Oil (Ample £5.00/Generous £10.00)

At the bar, the yokels were friendly enough. We were wearing our shirts, of course, and they missed nothing. “You'm be goin' to Kingsholm, then, I s'pose''? (Well, he might have been up from Somerset - I’m doing my best, OK?).

I indicated that his lucky guess was indeed spot on. "I 'opes you'm got your tickets" the second observed, kindly, "s'been reet full this season". Behind him Francesca and Oscar were turning up their lightly-tanned noses at their Warm Salad of Chorizo Sausage and Home Smoked Duck (Ample £5.50) "Why can't we have Chicken Nuggets, like those Rugby children ?"

Time was moving one, we sunk our Hook Norton, demolished our vast Club Sandwiches and slunk off, leaving ourselves plenty of time to get to the ground.  On the way, we passed a geezer-infested pub where the Quinssa Coach had evidently stopped and we cranked up the '"Mighty Quin" on the CD player and waved hard. Within 25 minutes, we were at the ground and within an hour-and-a-half of leaving the pub, we’d found a place to park, and set off in the wake of scores of Cherry-and-Whites.

Just outside the ground I bought a fanzine– "The Shed Head" a cheaply produced newsletter full of irreverent comment, opinionated polemic and unfounded scurrilous rumours, all interwoven with in-jokes and cheap shots at the opposition's - mainly Jason Leonard's - expense.   It was excellent.  More of what I discovered from the Shed Head on the message boards.

When we finally breached the forbidding walls of Castle Grim (OK it was through the turnstiles) I was certainly taken with what I saw: what a difference from the Stoop! With our ground tickets we'd already worked out we were condemned to stand, but I hadn't really realised that almost the entire crowd at Kingsholm stand to watch.  At 2.15 it was already it was a mass of Cherry-shirted fans,

The Shed itself was long since full,  but our target stand still had room and we found a place to perch easily enough and – as we'd been promised – the children were able to squeeze right through to the front and lean up behind the advertising hoardings behind the dead ball area. A good view for them, but it was a bit of a long time on their feet waiting for the game to start "Is it nearly time yet, Dad?" "Be quiet and read your ShedHead".

The atmosphere in the old-fashioned stadium was great. The toilets on the other hand were…..not.  Everywhere was cherry and white and I've never been to a game where I felt so completely outnumbered: a desperately pitiful number of Quins fans seemed to have ventured out.  The home crowd were in good voice:  even the warm up lap was greeted with a roar the like of which we rarely hear at the Stoop.

Standing is an intimate experience, I was the only Quins-shirted fan for miles around, and we bantered enthusiastically with our neighbours. My friend is a local and is a passionate, devoted and noisy Gloucester fan. But a relatively new one – having belatedly discovered just three weeks ago that his local team had won the cup and were, umm, top of the league, this was also, ahem, his first visit to Castle Grim.  Seriously, it's an object lesson in how success for a team will put bums on seats (if there are any seats).  It was also a comfort for me:  I knew that his constant stream of questions: “Who's Looodo?” “Our young winger looks pretty useful – who's he?"  safely diverted any inwardly directed hostile banter!

Across from us the Shed lived up to its reputation and Quins fan would had to have a heart of stone not to smile at the appalling abuse dished out to Lander when a couple of decisions went Quins' way.  The Gloucester passion was certainly something we could learn from. However when it came to the kicking, the boot was (so to speak) on the other foot – I've never heard before,  at any English ground, air horns being used so calculatedly to put off the kicker. For our conversion particularly it's hard to believe that Burkey wasn't put off by the sudden barrage of air horns, just a few metres behind him as he struck the ball. On the other hand, I was impressed by the old-fashioned Rugby courtesy displayed to our injured players who were loudly clapped off the field. Perhaps you get a different type of supporter over in the Grandstand? (Devilled Whitebait and Caper Mayonaise (Ample £6.00) anyone?)

Overall it was certainly a contrast to the Stoop.  To be serious: having to stand must make a difference. I am certain it must mean fewer children and fewer occasional fans, You have to be pretty dedicated to stand for three and half hours (which is about what it takes to get a good place in the Shed) and the children even more so: as they also end up separated from the grown ups.  My kids enjoyed themselves – but that was  built on a lot of experience watching rugby which gives them the continuity, the knowledge and the concentration to follow a game for 80 mins, unsupervised. It must be hard for kids to initially build that interest an independence without their parents.

Even as Quins fans it was hard not to get caught up in the excitement of Glaws sealing the top position in the league, a memorable moment for any club, that the administrators seem determined to stamp out with this foolish playoff system. When the whistle blew it seemed like the entire Shed invaded the pitch to celebrate and we snuck off and trudged back to the car. 

As far as I can tell, the children actually had a good time, and I asked them whether they'd like to come back next season. Dec 27th it will be and, let’s face it, you've got to expect a somewhat darker, wetter and colder experience.  They considered carefully. "I'd rather go to London Irish".   After a some discussion, we compromised on seats in the Grandstand.

Getting out of Gloucester the traffic was terrible. While we queued, my daughter called  BBC Radio Gloucester's sports phone in, and went on air to tell them how shocked she was by the noise in the kicking.  'An interesting point", said the host, "perhaps a Gloucester fan somewhere would like to phone up an react?"   Fifty miles further down the M4, as the show finally faded from our radio, none had done so.