Halifax in 1997 when we came back from behind to win. All the more sweet after Asa Amone goaded our players on his way to his first half try.

Think that game really got their inferiority complex going in the summer era.

Glen Morrison, Big Jo, Lesley V and Craig K came to my school once to do an assembly. I was waiting for them to arrive and was very surprised to see a Ford Fiesta come down the drive. It was quite a sight watching them get out. I thought I was going to need a tin opener at one point.

I was at Odsal for a Bradford game against Sts. In the days when Hanley was playing.
We were neutral just there for a good game.

There was a big crowd and we were behind the post up on the left as you look at the field. It was predominantly Bradford fans but there were a crowd of about 10 Sts lads behind us who were a bit tanked up.
They were giving Ellery a lot of grief through the game with one guy particularly loud and racist too.
The crowd was very much family orientated so you could feel the awkwardness very clearly but no one dare say anything.
As we were 3 big lads I was starting to feel like I should be the one to speak up when Ellery got the ball and headed across field in the bottom corner.
The calls started. He chipped over and chased to the corner. The ball went too deep so the brainless racist shouted so all could hear.
Problem was Ellery knew the speedway track pushed the sides of the pitch up so the ball stuck and bounced back towards him. He caught on the full and dives in the corner.
The whole place erupted and everyone man woman and child turned to jeer the brainless one. All fear had gone and there was a little old lady giving them the finger right in front of me.
I laughed so hard it hurt.

I turned around to see their faces but they were sloping away at the back looking very glum.

Haha I know craig well from playing with him and his dad (rest his soul who was an absolute monster on pitch if Craig had half his dads aggression he'd be best prop in country!) I remember that car he drove like the little chav he was always a laughing point

Were any of you at the old Craven Park when Jeff Grayshon took your players off the pitch in protest at the ref? Nobody knew what the hell was happening at first. Certainly don't get characters like that any more.

I missed that day. Jeff maintained he didn't signal to bring players off but instead signaled to someone else in the team to take over as skipper after he'd been given his marching orders. The team though interpreted it otherwise!

A sorry day that and not a funny one!

Wire v Wigan at the HJ. The Wigan crowd were singing "The referees a winker!!" after another decision had gone the way of the home team A speccie behind me turned to his mate and said "I wish his father had been"

In the early 80's my Dad (who was a fan all his life, and knew a lot of the players), was giving me a lift home, we were going down Huddersfield Rd past Sedbergh, in front of us on the footpath jogging were Brian Noble, and just in front of him Ellery Hanley, my Dad stopped the car and shouted across, ' Hey Nobby aren't you a bit old to be playing cops & robbers', Nobby nearly fell on the floor laughing, Ellery (with sort of a smile) shouted F*** off you cheeky fat barsteward.

I remember going to watch us at Rochdale in the cup around 96. There was an older man next to us that exclaimed "sh.it the bed Bradford!" every few minutes. We had literally never heard that phrase ever before but were utterly delighted to hear it for the first time and throughout the game. Is it a Bradford phrase?

Off topic slightly, but when Cas played Leigh in the 80s some old bloke kept shouting "You an't got t'brains God giv geese". Which might be a Leigh phrase.

Change 'geese' to 'yers' and it makes perfect sense

True

All right, whilst Leigh seems to be in mind, I've remembered another which involved myself back in the seventies.

Leigh, the town where not much happened. Well, nothing of interest physically happened when I was there. I just turned up to watch a rugby match and got a bit of a shock.

It was half-time. I was munching a pie and daydreaming at the time, when an announcement came over the P.A. asking for information about a serious attack on a woman the previous night, somewhere in Leigh. The police wanted to speak to a white male between 18 and 24 years, somewhere between 5 feet 8 and six feet tall, who had long, dark, curly, and bushy hair and had been wearing black boots, blue jeans and a red, bomber type jacket, and if anyone knew, etc etc..

From about halfway through the description, my attention was drawn ever closer to the announcement, since just as if they had been taking it directly from a photo of me, the suspect was clearly my double. My five feet ten, 20 year old self, fitted it from the very bottom of my black Chelsea boots to the very top of my fashionably coiffed long, dark and curly, bushy mop.

Well, let’s be honest, lynch mobs have been set up on flimsier evidence, so a shiver went down my spine and I gave sharp intake of breath as I opened my eyes to look upon the hordes of people who were now staring intently and pointing fingers at me – except they weren’t. I was being totally ignored. Even leaving the ground when I walked past two policemen at the gate they didn’t give me a second glance.

Innocent as I was, I still wonder about the point of these appeals..