When Man United last visited Cardiff in 1974 absolute mayhem

' Cardiff City v Man United '

' When Man United last visited Cardiff in 1974 '

From a Man United fan

I remember arriving from Paddington (see we had plenty of ****ney followers in those crap Div.2 days.) I was just a schoolboy and although I'd been to plenty of games at Old Trafford with my old fella I'd only been to a few tame aways at the time.

The Cardiff game was unlike anything I think I have ever seen before or
since. We expected an 'interesting' day to say the least but nothing prepared 2 spotty kids for an afternoon of absolute mayhem, the likes of which, (I'm sure anyone who was there will heartily agree) has never been seen since, with perhaps the exception of Luton v Millwall or other such ground-breaking occasions.

United fans were largely untouchable in those days, sheer weight of numbers plus a ferocious bravado that wouldn't allow them to back down from any resistance, even the southern counterparts - Chelsea, West Ham and to some extent Millwall were still lagging behind in both exploits and organisation.

So it was with that air of self confidence we alighted the station.
"Manchester la la la" rang out all around as we sauntered and swaggered our way towards Ninian Park, our Summer Holiday homework problems left aside as we strutted our stuff with the big boys, the exhiliration of being surrounded by 100 or so ' grown men' of 18!

There we spotted a group of about 100 lads. A cheer went up, these were
more of our own we assumed. To this day I'll never forget the scene. A
handful of our 'comrades' from across the road ambled over, a reuniting
embrace was no doubt to follow as these old friends joined the throng.
Suddenly I noticed the crazed grin on the face of the approaching stranger and even with my limited knowledge of Football away trips, I had a feeling. all was not well.

Our mate with the mental mug simply smashed his fist into the face of one of our lads. "Bloody hell, they're Cardiff *******s" came the cry. The lone assailant then began wading in to at least ten of the United group, bodies were going down all around. His 99 or so mates did very little to assist this lone kamikaze mission - either they were terrified of the situation or maybe knew his capabilities. Maybe this was Frank the Legend from the newspaper stories on this board - perhaps Bluebirds on here will enlighten me.

Finally, the two groups snapped out of their frozen apathy and charged into each other with a manic relish. Now when people say 200 fans were fighting 'toe-to-toe' they usually mean half a dozen at most, with the rest milling about looking stupid, but this was as it sounded, with scenes reminiscent of a gargantuan scale WWF tag match.

My friend and I stood there dumbstruck. It was over 25 years ago and I would love to have been able to recall how I joined in the scene of carnage, downing all-comers, but as a young boy I was horror-stricken and frozen with terror. I remember one Policeman ambling by and peering round the corner to see what all the noise was. He took one look at the scene and carried on walking.Classic!

By this time most of our group had been split into small factions and the walk to the ground was quite simply a journey into some apocyliptic
nightmare. It was as if my mate and I had just emerged from the Tardis into some post-nuclear wasteland.Yet there was no Jon Pertwee to close those bloody Police-Box doors and I guess most of the Coppers would have been in there hiding if he could have!

On every street corner the sight were the same, people scurrying around in all directions, I saw one outlandish figure - a United fan in a white boiler-suit and black bowler hat giving out instructions looking like an extra from A Clockwork Orange. All around were cries of "here they are" "don't run" "I've got one". A whirl of confusion, a tidal wave of thundering red Doctor Marten boots and tartan scarves.

We arrived outside the ground and met up again with some faces from the
train. Some looked dazed and confused, others bloodied but belligerent. "See this", said one half-caste Londoner with a bloody nose. "The next Taff I see, I'm going to give him three of these." We all laughed loudly at the ridiculous statement, though from some of the characters I had seen at the Station encounter, a guy with three noses was highly likely.

With about an hour to go before kick-off we decided to opt for some
sustainance to re-fuel our adrenalin loss. A pink, undercooked 'Spamburger' did the trick for 30p. We started queing at the rather oddly named 'Bob-Bank' whatever that was. Suddenly a group of Reds walked past us, full of contempt that we were planning to go into our own end. "Not in here you ****holes, it's all down "The Grange". Intimidated by their ridicule we followed our heroes and paid in at the "Grange".

As we prepared to pay our (70p was it) I noticed some of the lads around us were tying their scarves around their waists out of sight. I now realised that occupying the home end was more of a military operation than a consumer choice.

We gathered "inconspicuosly" at a point close to the fence which had a huge no-man's land separating the rival fans. Insults were traded for half an hour, a few blood curdling screams of bravado followed by a couple of half-hearted charges by either side at the fence. A fat Cardiff fan with a scarf round his wrist, and tomato sauce stains around his chin, shouted something indistinguishable and launced a wooden stake, like a mini telegraph pole into the baying United mob.

A few cheers rang out as it hit an unseen target. Instantly a piece of
concrete was hurled into the Cardiff boys to my right and I could see a
small group of people huddled round a fallen comrade. The reality that
someone really could die here today (possibly even me) hit home, and I
wondered how my parent's would react if they knew that I wasn't actually on the 'day trip to Barry Island' that I was supposed to be on with my mate's 'caring Dad'.

As if it wasn't bad enough, things were about to take a turn for the worse. A small group of Bluebirds began to take an unhealthy interest in the dozen or so lads to their left (us). One hideous freak with a severely scarred face wandered over. "Not singing boys? We all sing in here, you're all a bit quiet today. You are all 'Care-diff ' I hope". My heart sank. Rumbled, and we knew they weren't going to go away now their suspicions were aroused.

The scout ambled back to the main group to report his findings. After a
brief chin-wag amongst themselves, three or four more came over for an
'interview'. The "Head of Personnel" was none other than the fearsome
one-man war machine we had seen in action near the station. I wanted to cry and explain that I had a note from my Mum that said on no account was I to have my head kicked in as I had a cold.

I guess that a rat, when cornered, will strike out and I found that I was surrounded by a few heavy-duty rodents. "You want a song do you?" piped up a ginger-haired Northerner. "Yooooh-niiiiii-ted" he bellowed in a slow ponderous scream like Hitler adressing the Nuremberg Rally.

That was the signal for all out attack. The dozen or so infiltrators charged upwards at the massed ranks of blue-scarved savages in a suicidal attack. Fists flew and a sea parted between the fans as the visitors gained some amazing ground. I cowered behind a mouth-foaming long-haired Red with the most enormous baggy trousers I have ever seen, confidant that they wouldn't see me behind the expanse of bottle green material. The very trousers that must have inspired Suggs' Madness hit some years later.

Suddenly the 'Red Sea' in front of me became just a pond, as the Cardiff boys realised the small numbers involved in the kamikaze charge. Then it dried up like a Midsummer's day in the Serengetti as the United boys were now charging back down the same stairs that they had scaled so heroically a few moments earlier.

I just wanted the concrete to open up and swallow me, yet most of the
concrete in Ninian Park was of the airborne variety. It was now clear that we were in serious trouble and we seized the chance to make for a gap in the faltering fencing, weakened by numerous charges. We raced towards the safety of our fellow fans, who, to our horror, on seeing the onrushing mob charged into us, and a number of fists flew before our identity was established.

We were then welcomed like a band of soldiers returning from a daring
mission behind enemy lines, which I guess it had been. I was by now feeling almost traumatised, as huge lumps of brick, concrete and wood were flying over from both sides, the Police were desparately trying to contain the two fearsome mobs who charged continually at the horror-stricken thin blue line and at several points it looked as though the fence would give way.

As a veteran of away trips at home and abroad throughout the 70's, 80's and to a lesser extent the 21st Century, I can honestly say I couldn't imagine the carnage that would have taken place had that wilting police line given way on that day.

Mercifully it held, and despite sickening chants of "Munich" and
occasionally even "Aberfan" and about enough flying ballast to build a
high-rise block, the body count was surprisingly low. People were being
carried out from both side on stretchers, many with horrifying head wounds, struggling yobs were being plucked from both ranks by those Policemen plucky enough to try. Others were met with a volley of missiles and feet.

Every so often a small group of United fans would emerge in the home section and the same scenario would be played out - a suicidal charge followed by submersion beneath a frenzy of kicks, stamps and punches.

Jun 4, 2007 #2
samabachan
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Joined: Jul 11, 2006
Post Count: 9,816
Location: Football is about glory, it is about doing things
By now, I had retreated to the safety of a piece of grass next to the
stinking cesspit of that passed for the "Gentleman's Toilets". Still numb with the day's events and relieved to know I definitely wasn't dead, I rested against a small wall. A small group of boys made their way past,having just come through the turnstiles. Latecomers, they've missed all the action, I thought. Suddenly I recognised one of the faces. Missed the action? They were the action!

That same horrible mush, that messed-up mug. It was our old friend the Welsh war-machine. He was now amongst us! Totally un-noticed he made his way to the top of the stairs. I wanted to scream, to yell pantomime style "he's behind you!" but to no avail.

Without even a glance to ensure his six mates were in tow, he just proceeded to steam into all and sundry, a whirling, devastating thrreshing machine that took about a dozen boys to surpress. Even then he seemed to be unscathed, just made his point and then made a sensible but dignified retreat. To this day I wonder who he was and just what kind of legend he was around Grangetown or the like.

The match was played out in a kind of surreal haze, and on the final
whistle, both sides burst from the terraces into the street where ingenious Police plans ensured the two armies took separate routes home and were kept apart for all of two minutes.

Just as before, during the game, it had seemed that I had an awful knack of arriving just as major disorder was breaking out, so it was to be the pattern on the journey back to the station.

Sporadic bottles and missiles flew but no major incidents occurred until the station was in sight. Suddenly this was to be the major convergence of both main mobs, and hundreds of Cardiff and Manchester boys tore into each other. There was none of this puffy bouncing about of the modern 'offs' as they became known. No pushing the bloke in front of you into action in order to hide behind him. Just a demented, almost surreal, spontaneous orgy of physical butchery, where everybody seemed to know their role.

I have to say that I have rarely seen violent disorder on that scale in any walk of life since and I when I finally reached the safety of the
London-bound train I mused to myself as to whether any mentally stable
people did actually attend Football matches in 1974. It then occurred to me that amidst all the carnage, I didn't even know who won - the game had become completely immaterial. 1-0 to United, someone advised us - it seemed that most of those at the Station didn't know either as it transpired.

Manchester United fans continued their status as a fearsome football gang, but whereas so few modern 'hoolie' books ever actually tell the truth where opponent's successes are concerned, they had certainly met their match that day.

The sheer frenzied hatred of the Cardiff City fans as they came head to head with England's largest hooligan gang on that day was something to tell my grandchildren (if I ever have any) about.

In subsequent years the two clubs fortunes varied drastically, Cardiff were destined for a lifetime in the lower leagues, United eventually found domestic and European glory, but they were both top of the league on that August day.

The clubs' fans have had a varied history since. Cardiff evolved (maybe from that encounter) into one of the most notorious hooligan gangs, a stigma or accolade (depending on your viewpoint) that they hold to this day. United meanwhile have sadly been all but swallowed up by Corporate greed, their fans so often, and highly unfairly pilloried as prawn-munching replica shirt wearers from Singapore, (thanks to the incessant and somewhat successful PR campaign over the last 10 years chiefly from Manchester City's propoganda machine) yet even in those glory-less years, their nationwide support was unrivalled, highlighted on that day by a train full of 500 beer-swilling psychopaths heading back to Paddington.

So when newcomers to the game think that out-of-town Reds are a modern
phenomenon created by success, I would laugh in their faces and know at an instant that they themsleves are actually the very new-wave fans that they profess to despise. Whereas any clued-up match-going rivals who have been around longer than just the day after "Three Lions" made the charts will know the score.


Post Euro 96 nouveau fans brought up on a diet of Fantasy Football, 606
phone-ins, Helen Chamberlain, Baddiel and Skinner wouldn't recognise the Manchester United of 1974, yet if one wanders around Salford, or the City Centre on matchday, especially when the likes of Leeds, Liverpool or Chelsea are due then anyone expecting to glimpse the stereotypical image of a United fan would be highly mistaken. Similarly United away games are beginning to see a return to the 'active' followings of yesteryear, unrecognisable from the image portrayed by the type of United fan we all know, the office gimp who has 15 replica shirts but has never been to Old Trafford.

Cardiff fans continue to wreak havoc around the country, and unlike United have never had an alternative image to have to shake off. Cardiff still know how to offer visiting fans that unique "welcome in the hillside" but I doubt that anything would ever come close to that day in 1974. I doubt if anything could!

Awful days, etched on my mind with a kind of fondness usually only reserved for cold school showers, or a kiss from an ugly Aunt - yet strangely wonderful times, at the time it was an experience to chill the bones, yet I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

When I finally returned home, unscathed, well at least physically, my Mum asked me if I had had a nice time in Wales. (Imagining her little boy splashing around in the sea or acting the buffoon in the sand.) I said it had been 'an interesting day'. "Did you bring back any rock?" she asked. I thought back to the flying concrete at Ninian Park a few hours earlier. "No, sorry" I replied, "There's was plenty around but nothing I liked the look of." "Never mind" said Mum, "as long as you've enjoyed yourself" she said. I had been chased, spat at, terrified, traumatised, seen men knocked unconscious and kicked senseless - yet she was right... I had!

From that day on, like many Cardiff fans too, I'm sure, I was hooked, and followed United all over from that day on for over a quarter of a century. It's a funny kind of logic, but in a way, although I reviled those 70's days of lawlessness and abject violence and terror, and although it's best that they are consigned to history, I can't tell you how very glad I was that I was there. With fond memories to both Reds and Bluebirds

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I was only 9 years old,I was with Grandfather, to this day I have never seen so much violence/trouble on Sloper rd/Ninian Park Rd and Tudor Rd, we just continued as fast as we could past it all, but it was every where you looked.

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The pictures are funny aren't they hooligans just don't look right with long hair and flares

I wouldn't be suprised if they try and cause a bit of trouble this time, with it being so long since they have visited

First taste of 'violence' for me, too, Annis and it got pretty 'hairy' at stages

Looking at those pictures now, it makes me wonder how they could stand up in those shoes to fight! LOL

The pictures are funny aren't they hooligans just don't look right with long hair and flares

I wouldn't be suprised if they try and cause a bit of trouble this time, with it being so long since they have visited

Probably the same people...in the same clothes!

The pictures are funny aren't they hooligans just don't look right with long hair and flares

I wouldn't be suprised if they try and cause a bit of trouble this time, with it being so long since they have visited

Probably the same people...in the same clothes!

yea it would be funny

Has to be said! The fashion back then looks fuking horrific Lol how the hell they could fight in them big shoes is beyond me, i wouldn't fancy catching a boot in the chops off one of them mind you

Great write up that. I was too young for that, but I remember march 1983 when Chelsea had 3 quarters of our ground and it kicked off everywhere, thousands fighting outside the ground and fighting all the way to the station, even remember Chelsea fans in the canton stand trying to rip the fence down, then we sang - come and join us over here and they all run out and tried to join us in the bob bank, that day was mayhem and absolutely nuts

That was the most violent game i have ever been to , fights were from the station to the ground before and after the game.I saw at least 2 that said they had been knifed, somehow i had ended up with all there fans walking back to the station was damm scarey moments.

As for the game we lost to a penalty after about 5 mins if i remember right.

Hard to believe it was 39 years ago,

I, like many others who were there that day will never ever forget the events that took place, i was 15 and arrived on a service bus with a gang of lads from Cwmbran, the minute the older lads stepped off the bus at Cardiff central they were fighting toe to toe with the Utd lads, that's how it continued until we reached the safety of the old ninian pub, i say safety because the crew that was assembled in and outside the ninian that day would have more than matched any mob in the country then or now, (Cardiff have never put out a crew like it since) i've said it before but how somebody wasn't killed that day can only go down as a miracle. Thankfully football and it's fans have moved on from those dark days of skinheads and dr marten boots but the memories of that day will last a life time.

It must rank as one of the worst days of football violence in Britain, hyped for weeks by the media & it did'nt dissapoint, United thought they could take liberties at every old second division ground but met their match that day & both sides gave a good account of themselves, United went on to wreak havoc on other grounds but came unstuck at The Den. Crazy times with tear ups sometimes involving hundreds & it was generally accepted that if you travelled you knew the score & as the photo's show there was very few elderly,women or kids, mad,mad days.

It must rank as one of the worst days of football violence in Britain, hyped for weeks by the media & it did'nt dissapoint, United thought they could take liberties at every old second division ground but met their match that day & both sides gave a good account of themselves, United went on to wreak havoc on other grounds but came unstuck at The Den. Crazy times with tear ups sometimes involving hundreds & it was generally accepted that if you travelled you knew the score & as the photo's show there was very few elderly,women or kids, mad,mad days.

i remember the police confiscating all sorts outside the turn styles, but not arresting anybody,we had over a hundred { a record at the time } arrested at ashton gate a few days before, but for this game,i think the police needed everyman on the street.
IT WAS THE GRANGE END AT ITS VERY BEST, certainly the best ive ever seen it, fights in the ground, in the city,on the trains,every where.
i am pretty sure on the day of the game the western mail did a piece as you would for a world title boxing match..in the red corner..and in the blue corner........and a piece about both sets of hooligans escapades.

just a thought..has anyone got access to old copies of the western mail,would love to know if my memory is correct.

That's a shortened version that has being doing the rounds for years and years. The original, I think has been lost, see my very early messages as I think I did manage to track a more or less complete version.

For what it's worth it was my first ever live football match. I was eleven or thereabouts, my great uncle took me. He hasn't been back since, I wasn't allowed to go to footy after that game. I think we would have been somewhere around Block B of the old "grandstand", at some point the folk in front of us left, seconds later a Motorbike chain landed on their seats, I kid you not. I kept it for years. f**k knows where it was thrown from never worked it out.

I know billy Botox ,legendary Salford hooligan he tells anyone who will listen of the kicking he took from cardiff in74 . What a character

Used to go to old Trafford regularly with a mate .

What a shit hole. Had a few nasty moments, but these days the police are all over them.

Went in the Trafford arms for a pint before the match. The whole time I was thinking , shit if one of these fuckers knows I'm Cardiff il end up dead. So I just sat there like a little girl, never said a word.

I was there with my elder brother. We were close to central station at 8.30am, there was around 20 of us from the Rhondda and believe me it was kicking off as early as that. I saw many united fans that day getting caught out by walking around the city centre in small groups. They had the pub opposite the station and they wrecked it.

Also, during the game it was constant bricks, coins and even guys jumping the barriers and fighting in between the whole game. I received a coin on my head in the Grange end.

Their cockney reds got legged back to the station after the game, I witnessed that myself. The trouble was from breakfast till 6.30pm!

I was in school at the time & can remember the disapointment that there was a few lads from my year who was on the bob bank with the United fans, could'nt understand it at the time how they could stand against their own & there was a lot of tension with them for quite a while after. United had the sheer numbers at the time & wrecking trains seemed to be the norm. Later in that same season while being run at the Den we came across graffiti written on a side of a building that read MAN U WRECK TRAINS, WE WRECK PEOPLE probably the only thing that raised a smile all day.

I was in school at the time & can remember the disapointment that there was a few lads from my year who was on the bob bank with the United fans, could'nt understand it at the time how they could stand against their own & there was a lot of tension with them for quite a while after. United had the sheer numbers at the time & wrecking trains seemed to be the norm. Later in that same season while being run at the Den we came across graffiti written on a side of a building that read MAN U WRECK TRAINS, WE WRECK PEOPLE probably the only thing that raised a smile all day.

i spent the whole day doing myself,yes they had thousands,and a lot of welsh boys in there with them, im sure everyone who was there has a different account,and a different view of who came out on top,simply because it went off in so many places and didnt involve the same mobs every time.my personal take was i survived the day unscathed largley down to it being men against boys,and although just a boy myself i was with the men.United seemed to have lots of clingons, happy to run riot,break things,be part of the crowd, dont think they had come across grown men determined to fight before.

I was in school at the time & can remember the disapointment that there was a few lads from my year who was on the bob bank with the United fans, could'nt understand it at the time how they could stand against their own & there was a lot of tension with them for quite a while after. United had the sheer numbers at the time & wrecking trains seemed to be the norm. Later in that same season while being run at the Den we came across graffiti written on a side of a building that read MAN U WRECK TRAINS, WE WRECK PEOPLE probably the only thing that raised a smile all day.

i spent the whole day doing myself,yes they had thousands,and a lot of welsh boys in there with them, im sure everyone who was there has a different account,and a different view of who came out on top,simply because it went off in so many places and didnt involve the same mobs every time.my personal take was i survived the day unscathed largley down to it being men against boys,and although just a boy myself i was with the men.United seemed to have lots of clingons, happy to run riot,break things,be part of the crowd, dont think they had come across grown men determined to fight before.

I agree, United thought they were going to turn over every mob they were up against that season but the visit to Cardiff took them by surprise as just about every nutcase from the south wales valley's came out in force to greet them, their reputation came mainly from mindless destruction but werent so good at going toe to toe, when they visited Millwall a bit later they came unstuck & suffered a beating, United blamed a rail strike & did'nt have their usual huge numbers but the truth was when the numbers were equal they were'nt so good. In truth though no one would have been able to have taken Cardiff on that crazy day in 74, there was some serious nutters in attendance that day.

Has to be said! The fashion back then looks fuking horrific Lol how the hell they could fight in them big shoes is beyond me, i wouldn't fancy catching a boot in the chops off one of them mind you

I, like many others who were there that day will never ever forget the events that took place, i was 15 and arrived on a service bus with a gang of lads from Cwmbran, the minute the older lads stepped off the bus at Cardiff central they were fighting toe to toe with the Utd lads, that's how it continued until we reached the safety of the old ninian pub, i say safety because the crew that was assembled in and outside the ninian that day would have more than matched any mob in the country then or now, (Cardiff have never put out a crew like it since) i've said it before but how somebody wasn't killed that day can only go down as a miracle. Thankfully football and it's fans have moved on from those dark days of skinheads and dr marten boots but the memories of that day will last a life time.

Also caught the bus from Cwmbran with 2 others, after we were banned from going to game by our mams. I was 14 at the time and a young Grange End Boy and remember the Man U fans cheering after thinking the train pulling in behind the Bob Bank was full of their fans, when it was the special from the Valleys. They then got volleys of things thrown at them from behind the Bob- Bank as well as from the Grange End. After the game was also a bit crazy when the whole of the Grange End was escorted down another route and after about 15 mins came face to face with the main Man U fans - you had no choice but to move with the other thousands running down the road at the Manc bastards.

Might you I have to say that the craziest game I went to was the Wales - Scotland match of the same year when there Scots and Welsh were having a go at the Grange End - Bob Bank fence all through the match. In town was also pretty wild that day with all these 40-50 year old Scottish Hooligans chasing us kids about.

Another match that I though was mad was a pre-season friendly between Cardiff and Arsenal about the same time. All the Cardiff fans were fighting each other in the Grange all through the game with the coppers getting battered in the middle. Not sure what was going on, but someone said it was an arranged thing every year to see which mob would rule the Grange End for the Year - Not sure about that but I think the Barry Boys were the top crew in them days.

Frank Bough saying on Grandstand after about 10 minutes that specially erected new fences at Ninian Park have been broken by fighting hooligans. The pictures in the Western Mail remain iconic as does the TV clip of Man U fans running down Tudor Street parallel to the Brains bridge.

The build up to the game was phenomenaul with every kid talking about it & the football became a side show, the fence erected for the game was the first segregation used at NP & it makes you wonder what would have happened if it was'nt there, i can always remember the sight of 10,000 Man U fans on the Bob Bank waving their scarves in the air as we entered the ground & there was a bad atmosphere right throughout the game with a major scale riot just about avoided by a creeking fence, these were the days when football violence was for real with no bouncing & hand gestures or mass police protection, if both sides could get at each other they certainly would have, outside fights were breaking out all over the place with both sides having a go at each other throughout the day, there've been incidents since such as Chelsea 84 but nothing that matches that day in 1974 how no one was seriously injured was a miracle.

the coppers were making all the guys take there DM,s off when entering the grange end

in the week before City had 140 odd arrests at Bristol City

It must of been a warm up for Utd

in the week before City had 140 odd arrests at Bristol City

It must of been a warm up for Utd

That was down to the most vile chant ever heard at a football game, City fans went mental overturning cars in the car park & for me Bristol remain the one club i hate because of that night.

in the week before City had 140 odd arrests at Bristol City

It must of been a warm up for Utd

That was down to the most vile chant ever heard at a football game, City fans went mental overturning cars in the car park & for me Bristol remain the one club i hate because of that night.

Yes remember it well the aberfan chants and that is why I consider them our main rivals and not the jacks over the years

same here lethal the wurzels still remain our real rivals because of those times well in my eyes anyway

same here lethal the wurzels still remain our real rivals because of those times well in my eyes anyway

Mozzer, The Worzels were def our main rivals years ago, not the Jacks.