Lost League Grounds (15) : Ninian Park

You're Welcome Barton, i tend to choose Wiki as it does have alot fo info but as you say it can be very frustrating. Great to see a post from you already coming on this morning.

I was sad to have missed getting to this one. I had long enough.

I think the first time I went to Ninian Park was for an all-Wales division 4 clash against Wrexham in 1991 - the ground was virtually empty, maybe a hundred or so away fans and Cardiff put them to the sword in a 5-0 thrashing.
I went a few times over the years since in addition to the matches that we had up there. Their fans never seemed as bad when we played there as they did when they were on their travels down here or in Exeter - in fact, when Steve McCall was stretchered-off back in the draw in 97/98 he recieved a very warm appaluse from the home fans as well.

My earlier experiences there were similar to visiting the "old" Deepdale - pretty run-down areas with delapidated stadiums with vast swathes of closed terracing, although my last visit there about 5 seasons ago when Cardiff took-on Premiershi£-bound Norwich City had a good atmosphere and a tidier ground.
I'm sort of torn between the loss of a stadium that had seen many big matches as it is another link with football of yesteryear that disappears (although the Cardiff fans 70's clothes and haircuts will never catch-up with the civilised world!), but I'm sure that a number of away fans that have visited there have had unpleasant experiences. I know that the Exeter team coach in 97/98 had the windows bricked and they had to travel-back in the Cardiff City youth minibus.

I've seen the ground sprout-up as I've headed in to Cardiff from the West of Wales and it looks impressive but much like other new stadia, I'm sure that the Cardiff fans will create a rousing atmosphere though.

I've moved this from the Cardiff Stadium thread as my story is about a visit to Ninian Park.

Ninian Park, Season 1980/81.
The only time I've been relieved to watch a goal scored against Torquay United.....

I'd just passed my driving test and my friend Shaun (still a die-hard United fan) and I were football mad. He lived in Weston-S-m with his parents having moved from Torbay a year or so before, so we decided that any games involving 'our boys' within acceptable driving distance would be undertaken.

Most of the members of this forum will recall with fondness that we played Saturday games in the evening, mainly to attract holiday makers who otherwise would've been on the beach/driving around the Moors etc, but Exeter had moved their game to this spot so ours was played in the afternoon, even so this being August a large crowd was expected for the League Cup game against our Welsh cousins. With the two games having different kick off times Mr. T (the aforementioned Shaun) and myself decided on a double header and decided to take in the Exeter game against Bristol Rovers in their first round tie in the evening making use of my new found mode of transport to get up from the game at Plainmoor.

One of the most wonderful evenings of my life was to preceed this day though. I was working as a barman/washer-up/wine waiter and 'would-be' lothario at the Beach Hotel in Teignmouth and the Friday night before I was working the late shift in the small bar having done the washing-up etc etc. I was pretty peeved as the three waitresses were all off to the Ship Inn for a night out and had tried to get me to join them with untold promises....

As it was I was a forlorn figure sitting bored behind the bar in an empty room with only the goldfish to count when a chap came in after his evening walk along the sea front. He ordered a couple of beers, one for himself and the other for me, and we got chatting. After a time he asked what I was doing that weekend and I explained the football scenario. 'Oh', he said. 'if I wasn't going back tomorrow I would've come to Plainmoor with you. I used to play for Cardiff'. So we started chatting about the game in his day and the greats in the Welsh team at that time and he seemed rather knowledgeable. I slipped out the back and checked the card index for guests staying that week and realised I was sitting there chatting with non other than the great Trevor Ford. It was fascinating, hearing of how he and Len Shackleton came to blows at Sunderland, how he travelled the world with Wales and any number of stories I can't now recall. At just gone eleven one of the girls came back into the hotel to say they were going on to the local night club and that I should join them when I shut up shop. I didn't... I stayed until the early hours just the two of us talking football. Magical...

The next morning, before setting off on our League Cup trek, I did the breakfast shift at the hotel and as I was leaving the man himself was checking out, he came across and slipped a couple of pounds in my hand saying, 'thanks for the chat last night, really enjoyed it, buy yourself some beers at the game later'. I replied that all tips had to go in the communal tip box which I pointed out on reception. He just winked at me and said 'come on, there are times we all have take a little on the side to make ends meet' and smiling, walked away. I still have one of those pound notes today.

In the afternoon game at Plainmoor a crowd of just under three and a half thousand saw a 0-0 draw leaving most of us pessimists assuming that that was that and once back at Ninian Park Cardiff would ease their way into the second round at our expense. Interestingly Freddie Pethard played for us having joined from the opposition a few weeks previously along with Albert Lamour who didn't make the team on this occasion. Playing for Cardiff were Steve Grapes and Ray Bishop, both players joining us at a later date. At the final whistle we left and made our way to Exeter where the evening game at St. J's ended in a 1-1 draw in front of just over 4,700. So both games could be considered as ‘in the balance’ setting up the return legs nicely.

To make this odyssey complete we had noticed that the Rovers v. City second leg was on the Tuesday night whilst our return leg was Wednesday. We could do the ‘double-double’ header and watch both legs of both first round matches. How often was that possible in those pre ‘switching-of-games-for-TV’ days? So the following Tuesday night, now staying at Weston-S-m, we made our way to Eastville, then a complete ground before the stand burnt down, to watch Exeter secure a 1-1 draw but go out on penalties. Terry Cooper was player-manager of the Bristol side at this time before moving to the night's opponents as manager in later years. Our own Frank Prince played for Exeter in these games having just been transferred from Rovers where he was rightly considered a Gasheads legend… And the ref that night was the the famous world cup referee Clive Thomas.

The following evening saw us set off on the last leg of our campaign and before we'd even got out of W-S-m the car had overheated (in those days a boy’s first car was designed to be problematical, it was a rite of passage) and we spent the next few hours limping from water source to water source before finally making it to Ninian Park. In the huge away end it felt like we were the only United supporters there (I'm sure others will come on here and say they were also present) and we settled down to watch the game in the forlorn hope that we could get a result.
Then it happened, Gerry Fell scored, we went ballistic (as seventeen year olds are apt to do) and were jumping all over the place, scarves held high. But as we quietened down we realised we were quite possibly the only ones doing so... The rest of the ground was silent, still, un-moving…. and then, just as Jasper Carrott had put it so well in a game not long before, it started.... Contorted faces, arms, scarves all pointed in our direction... 'You're going home in a f***** ambulance' bellowed towards us followed by various chants alluding to our future well being. We sat down, very, very quietly, took our scarves off and hid them in our carrier bags... and sat, in fear, waiting for the game to end. We discussed an early exit but decided if we were seen leaving we could be followed and there’d be no one around in that large, empty car park to safeguard us. Then Cardiff equalised. I tried not to look relieved, not to look a complete wimp in front of my mate. The usual down beat things were said between us, we were now set to lose, we needed something from somewhere, come on boys, but in my heart I was just glad the chanting mob could direct their energy elsewhere. Then joy-of-joys, Cardiff scored again, 2-1. We were reprieved! My arms went up with the rest of the crowd, as did Shaun’s. We smiled, we laughed, we shook our heads. We left… quickly!
We got in the car just as the crowd piled out of the ground… Some intimidating looking Welsh boys saw us and started the gestures… what did we care, we were in the car. We gestured back, safe. I turned the key…. Nothing… not even a squeak…. Sheer panic enveloped the old Morris 1300…. Pure glee came over the advancing pack…. Then suddenly they stopped, an arm was raised as if to say we weren’t worth it, they turned and left chanting the score as they did so. The car came to life and we were down that road and out of Cardiff as fast as we could, steam billowing from under the bonnet….
All we could think of was what would’ve been the outcome if we’d won, remembering this was the days of certain grief if you were a young, loud, visiting supporter to Ninian Park.

Yes, that was the only time I’ve been relieved to see a goal against us. In the next round the Bluebirds came up against Chelsea, the team with the other notorious hooligan set of the time. Bet that was fun….

Yep, David Graham on a day you wouldn't have bet tuppence on our Football League survivial. I might have even said "we won't be going there again" on the way home.

The table that evening:

20 Barnet 41 42
21 Carlisle United 39 41
22 Lincoln City 37 39
23 Halifax Town 38 38
24 Torquay United 39 37