Hooligan myth dispelled

By Stephen 18
May 28 2004

A small token perhaps, but the 7.25pm train back to Paddington had an incident that demonstrated just how proud every Lion should be at this moment. Standing and sitting side by side were Millwall and Manchester United supporters regurgitating memories of an historic occasion.

The good-natured banter was pleasing enough, but what happened next summed up exactly how both clubs' supporters did themselves immense credit on a day when the brooding police and media presence was as conspicuous as the game itself.

From nowhere, two opposing supporters made the ultimate gesture in good-will by exchanging worn T-shirts advertising the love for their respective clubs.

But they were by no means shoved behind a seat or stuffed in a pocket with a mental note of shame attached.

Both men agreed to wear their newly acquired T-shirts for the rest of the day, and each were true to their word. When the United fan exited the train at Bristol it remained on until he had gone in the distance, while the Lion sitting opposite - Terry from Bermondsey - defiantly kept his side of the bargain, regardless of how strange it made him feel and look.

It was a small gesture that spoke louder volumes than a cranked-up Millennium Stadium pop concert.

Here was the entire weekend encapsulated in one random moment, but a moment that can be adapted into a different location and situation to suit the experience and circumstances of every single one of the 21,400 Millwall fans who turned up for the game.

It was the type of occasion where every supporter would have been party to touching moments they thought they would never see. All around, the atmosphere was boisterous and mischievous, but never sinister and violent.

Waiting on the Cardiff Central platform for the train to arrive was a classic example. Millwall supporters were screaming at the top of their lungs just what they really thought of United's support.

Yes, it was confrontational and imposing, but there was no physical edge to it. They call it passion instead, and was by no means out of place with what had gone on before.

From the first orders at the pub to the drying up of the last pint glass at the end of the day, Millwall's support was nothing short of magnificent.

Whether you took the example of a young child going to one of his first ever games, a 40-year-old tee-totaller or the half-cut devoted drinker, they were louder than a whistle-blowing noise world record attempt and as positive as a trained psychologist.

Never was this more apparent than when Ruud Van Nistelrooy made it 2-0 to United with a 65th minute penalty.

The Lions' fans' reaction to the realisation that there was clearly no way back for their team was to up the volume another notch.

From originally being all about the contest on the pitch, Millwall's fans made it their aim to win the singing stakes off it, and without doubt they won their own cup final with flying colours.

Even though we were sitting amongst the outnumbering United fans, it was as one-sided in Millwall's favour in the stands as it was for United on the pitch.

The preceding and following evenings were just as trouble-free.

There was nothing to report in Cardiff, and not a murmur in Bristol or Newport - two areas apparently targeted for pre-match scraps.

And that is what was so satisfying about it.

From your wannabe hooligan on the street to the embryonic mens magazines desperately hunting for a way of attaining kudos and street-cred, there were clerics with no interest in football and no balls to start a fight themselves, predicting and hoping for violence over the weekend.

How great it was then, for Millwall's fans to stick two-fingers up at all those willing them to fail and to show the true colours that billions of people never normally get the chance to see.

They did the club a major service by proving that when it comes to the crunch, they support their team the right way, and no amount of PR will ever have as big effect on the club's image as that of their behaviour over the weekend.

If gold was not such a limited commodity, there would be 21,400 winners' medals in the hands of true cup legends today.