All Our Yesterdays

[summerisle]

http://www.victorianfootball.co.uk/victorian-football-attendance-evolution/

VICTORIAN FOOTBALL CROWDS AND GATES

"The Miseries of Pleasure - Football and a Keen East Wind", Moonshine, 1895

Around 2,000 spectators paid a shilling each to attend the first FA Cup final, between Wanderers and Royal Engineers, at the Oval in 1872. It was a large attendance in football terms, but but nothing compared to the 20,000 that international cricket matches could attract to the same ground. However, as our table below shows, football attendances grew along with the game's popularity as the Victorian era progressed.

FA Cup Final gates increased from 6,500 in 1882 to 22,000 in 1889. The 1892 final - the 20th at the Oval - drew a crowd of almost 33,000 spectators. After that, however, Surrey CCC decided that it could no longer allow football to damage its wickets. The final was moved to Fallowfield Stadium in Manchester, then Goodison Park in Liverpool, before finding a new permanent venue at the Crystal Palace. Almost 69,000 attended the FA Cup Final there in 1900.

The great occasion of the FA Cup final drew substantially higher crowds than top league matches. However, league attendances did increase steadily from the Football League's inception in 1888-89 through to the end of the Victorian era. Our table shows attendances for selected league matches between the two top-supported clubs of each season.

Overall, Everton were the top-supported Football League side of the Victorian era. For the first four league seasons, Everton played at Anfield, where they attracted average attendances of around 10,000. They were league champions in 1890-91, with the great Fred Geary the crowd’s goalscoring favourite. A move to Goodison Park in 1892 boosted average attendances to around 13,000, and within another five years they were up to around 17,500.

Everton had the highest average attendance of any club during the first 10 league seasons, only being surpassed towards the end of the era by Aston Villa, Newcastle United and Manchester City. Aston Villa had the highest average attendance of the 1899-1900 season of around 20,000.

 

[Brendan Janus]

Playboy & very underrated footballer !

 

[summerisle]

 

[jaycee]

 

[jaycee]

Hampden park cup replay Celtic V Rangers
120,000 attendance

 

[big bobs beard]

Anyone remember 'Wurzel' from the street end mid eighties? Bit of a character always stood on the post behind the goal

 

[jaycee]

Genoa fans on the way to Turin 1925

 

[larbert toffee]

 

[jaycee]

The first match in front of the hill of p1ss 1906 v Stoke

 

[ToffeeDan]

Well that's a load of crap. An unofficial LSC game.

 

[summerisle]

http://www.fourfourtwo.com/features...sly-untold-story-football-wwi#:Zl8SdwMNEL_tYA

The man who dribbled into battle: a previously untold story of football in WWI


FFT recalls the story of Frank Edwards, who faced down No Man’s Land’s bullets with a rifle… and a football...

A century on from the beginning of World War I, it’s now easy to get lost in the Boys’ Own myth of the plucky British Tommy. Arguably the primary feelgood story of the conflict involved football: the Christmas Day Truce of 1914.

“The English brought a soccer ball from the trenches, and a lively game ensued,” recalled Kurt Zehmisch, a soldier with the 134th Saxons. “How wonderful it was, yet how strange.” A spontaneous shouted exchange resulted in the ultimate pick-up match, a fixture that Germany inevitably won 3-2, and captured the public imagination. It was miraculous, heart-warming, a victory for humanity.

But this yarn was a world away from the conflict’s realities. Frank Edwards’ story was not. Edwards was a Cockney Rifleman who also played football in No Man’s Land. But Frank’s narrative contained little glory. Instead it’s a tale of discomfort, deprivation, maiming, poisoning, death and carnage. This was not about sport overcoming the bitterest of divides. It was about how football could give hope to men pushed to the limits of sanity.

Edwards knew suffering before his 21st birthday. As a young man from a working class enclave of Chelsea, he’d witnessed his young wife and child die in childbirth in 1913. A year later, it’s a small wonder that he took the King’s Shilling and joined the London Irish Rifles. Football was Frank’s pleasure: he skippered the regiment team, who won the Brigade final at a time when the military was extremely strong in the sport.

Balls were dispatched to keep the troops happy, and Edwards kept a deflated casey in his tunic at all times. “It was ready to be put into action at any given opportunity,” wrote Ed Harris – who married Frank’s granddaughter and resurrected his story through a superb book, The Footballer of Loos. Frank was also a maverick. He sought fun whenever possible as the khaki-clad Rifles wound through France towards the Western Front. In Maroc, he discovered a pile of women’s dresses and immediately donned one, leading a parade of soldiers in drag.

Into the killing fields

The laughs were soon to end. Five months after being deployed, they reached the killing fields. Armed with outmoded rifles, they stared out onto No Man’s Land daily. In the trenches, the key was to keep your head down. Nights were spent fully clothed, because they may face combat at any time. And all times times, they faced the hoorendous medical malady of trench foot – the swelling, blistering and necrosis of wet feet, threatening gangrene and amputation.

German troops 'relax' in a trench.


The regiment had been chosen to help lead the first “Great Push” from their post close to the mining village of Loos. The men weren’t daft: they knew the likely outcome was death. The best hope was “a Blighty one” – an injury bad enough to be sent home honourably, without permanent damage.

Forty-eight hours before the push, bayonets were sharpened and ammo was handed out, as was a steak supper with rum. A staggering bombardment of shells ensued, and at 5.50am, a cloud of chlorine gas was released towards the enemy. The Battle of Loos was notable for the use of chemical warfare, sinisterly dubbed by Field Marshal Douglas Haig as “the accessory”. It’s now a shameful footnote in the Great War.

Ladders were fixed to the trenches. “At last the war for us had really began,” wrote a correspondent inWeekly Dispatch. “Some looked a trifle pale, others were extra jolly, but all had a look of determination.”

Edwards had his mind on other matters. “He’d conceived the great idea of dribbling the ball into the enemy’s lines,” writes Harris. “He’d cherished the notion.” The idea was frowned on by the officers, who had deflated one sphere. But Edwards had a spare. “Whatever might happen, the sight of British soldiers coolly passing would give the enemy their biggest shock of the war,” he said.

“Edwards was spotted calmly using valuable breath to blow up a ball, as though the matter in hand was a cup tie,” noted the Weekly Dispatch. “These old members of London Irish FC were not to be done out of the greatest game of their lives.”

"London Irish, lead on!"

“Blimey – you’ve still got it,” muttered the man next to Edwards as he produced his football. The cry of “London Irish, lead on!” came. “I had the ball in one hand, my rifle in the other,” said Edwards. “It was like all hell let loose. We were out of that trench in a split second. I took one great kick. Just for the hell of it.”

British troops go over the top.


It wasn’t a well-timed run. The chlorine cloud, aimed at polluting German lungs, had stalled. Some had even blown back into British trenches. Men spat blood, suffering a horrific, lingering death. Edwards and his team-mates Micky Mileham, Bill Taylor and Jimmy Dalby thundered towards the poison. Wearing gas masks and chanting “On the ball, London Irish,” they squared passes to each other. Men were torn down in droves by bullets and burned to death by petrol bombs. French troops witnessed Frank’s charge. One soldier declared: “The boy is a lunatic.” His officer disagreed. “He’s not mad,” came the reply. “He’s a sportsman, scornful of death. That’s British sport.

They also scored. “They kicked it right into the enemy trench with the cry: ‘goal!’” reported Weekly Dispatch. “They had held the ball for 1,400 yards. It was the best goal in history.”

It came at a price. “Imagine running down Oxford Street with people at every window raining down bricks,” said one survivor. Edwards too hit trouble. “We captured the first trench, but I went down with a bullet through the thigh and hand and took no further part. As for the ball, that went on with some of the footballers – to eternity.”

Edwards was saved by Micky Mileham, who helped him back to a dressing station. His skin had turned yellow, and he was coughing from inhaling chlorine. “With lives maimed and finished, all the romance and roving that makes up the life of a soldier was gone forever,” notes Harris. Frank had survived, and while on first look it seemed like he’d caught “a Blighty one”, serious damage had been done. For the rest of his life he’d feel the effects of that gas attack by his own superiors.

After a year’s convalescence, he returned to Chelsea. Frank had no choice but to crack on with real life. Despite his lung damage, he qualified as a gym instructor. He remarried and had children, taught swimming and fencing, and was in the Military Police among other jobs. He lived in Whitton, south west London, where The Rifleman pub still features his portrait on its beautifully painted sign. His dog, Tigg, would be sent to get him for tea.

Edwards’ adventures did bring some celebrity. A statue of “the footballer of Loos” was displayed in his regiment’s mess, and in the 1930s, BBC radio interviewed Edwards, and his old mate Micky Mileham was listening. The pair were reunited. Frank also re-enacted his charge as part of the London Irish Regiment’s Torchlight Tattoo.

But author Ed Harris believes that the story is ultimately tragic. “The sad thing was, Loos should have been a great victory, but they didn’t send back-up in time,” he tells us. “The war could have been made shorter, but they repeated the same mistakes at the Somme. The military command learned nothing.

“But for Frank, football was ultimately his salvation.”

The Footballer of Loos, by Ed Harris, is available fromthehistorypress.co.uk

 

[jaycee]

Copland road stand at Ibrox 1920s

Whoever had the flat cap shop must have been minted

 

[summerisle]

Possibly the best name of which I've ever heard : Nettie J Honeyball.

http://www.victorianfootball.co.uk/victorian-womens-football/

VICTORIAN WOMEN’S FOOTBALL


‘So it has come at last!’ cried the Bell’s Lifenewspaper. ‘What next?’ The event that had the paper so agitated was a women’s football match, played in May 1881 at Easter Road, Edinburgh.

‘Several years ago there was a rage for silly displays of certain kinds of athletics by women, but we thought the time had passed,’ said Bell’s. ‘To give the arrangement the semblance of an international event the girls had the cheek to designate the farce England v Scotland.’

The 22 women, who had practised in a Glasgow hall ahead of the match, were all aged between 18 and 24. Scotland lined up with Ethel Hay in goal, Rose Rayman at half-back, and Lilly St Clair up front. England had May Goodwin in goal, Mabel Bradbury at full-back, and Maud Starling at half-back.

It was noted that the players dressed very suitably, and from a distance could not be distinguished from men. The Scotland team wore blue jerseys, white knickerbockers, red sashes, blue and white stockings, and blue and white cowls. England wore red jerseys, blue sashes, white knickerbockers, red and white stockings, and red and white cowls. TheGlasgow Herald said both teams played in ‘high-heeled boots’.

Scotland won 3-0, but the Bell’s match report was so dismissive it didn't even mention the score. ‘The football shown was of the most primitive order,’ it said, calling the match ‘a humiliating spectacle’. The event had, however, attracted a large crowd, and a second match was arranged for the following week, this time in Glasgow, at Shawfield. Around 5,000 spectators turned up, and it was noted that none of them were ‘of the fair sex’.

The rowdy crowd made uncomplimentary remarks throughout the first half. Then, in the second half, hundreds of spectators charged onto the pitch and ‘roughly jostled’ the women, sending them fleeing back to their horse-drawn omnibus. Pitch invaders pulled up marker stakes and threw them at the bus, jeering as it made a hasty retreat. The players escaped with ‘nothing more than serious fright’.

Thankfully, the unpleasant incident didn't put an end to women’s football in the Victorian era, although it would be almost 15 years before the emergence of the first high-profile women's club.

‘There was an astonishing sight in the neighbourhood of the Nightingale Lane Ground, Crouch End, on Saturday afternoon,’ reported theSketch in March 1895. ‘Crouch End itself rubbed its eyes and pinched its arms. All through the afternoon train-loads of excited people journeyed over from all parts, and the respectable array of carriages, cabs, and other vehicles marked a record in the history of football.’

The event was the first public match of the British Ladies’ Football Club, which had been formed a few months earlier by Miss Nettie Honeyball (pictured right). Advertisements attracted around 30 female footballers, who trained twice-weekly under the tutelage of Tottenham Hotspur wing-half Bill Julian.

Honeyball explained that she and her teammates had gained their knowledge and love of football ‘from frequent on-looking’. But the formation of the club brought disdain and derision. The ladies were prevented from practising at the Oval, and were mocked in newspapers.

Once again, great interest surrounded the players’ outfits, at a time when it was unheard of for women to wear trousers, never mind football shorts. However, the club’s baggy blouses and long knickerbockers, tall stockings and fishermen’s caps were very modest, and left everything to the imagination. The players also wore shin guards and football boots – with high-heels having been deemed impractical.

The match saw the club divided into two teams representing North and South London. ‘It would be idle to attempt any description of the play,’ said theSketch. ‘The first few minutes were sufficient to show that football by women is totally out of the question. A footballer requires speed, judgement, skill, and pluck. Not one of these four qualities was apparent on Saturday.’

The players were jeered, and many of the spectators had left by the time the final whistle blew – with North London winning 7-1. Commercially, however, the match had been a huge success – so much so that Honeyball took her team on a lengthy tour that saw them play around 100 exhibition matches over the next two years.

This is an edited extract from The Victorian Football Miscellany by Paul Brown.

 

[jaycee]

Possibly the best name of which I've ever heard : Nettie J Honeyball.

http://www.victorianfootball.co.uk/victorian-womens-football/

VICTORIAN WOMEN’S FOOTBALL


‘So it has come at last!’ cried the Bell’s Lifenewspaper. ‘What next?’ The event that had the paper so agitated was a women’s football match, played in May 1881 at Easter Road, Edinburgh.

‘Several years ago there was a rage for silly displays of certain kinds of athletics by women, but we thought the time had passed,’ said Bell’s. ‘To give the arrangement the semblance of an international event the girls had the cheek to designate the farce England v Scotland.’

The 22 women, who had practised in a Glasgow hall ahead of the match, were all aged between 18 and 24. Scotland lined up with Ethel Hay in goal, Rose Rayman at half-back, and Lilly St Clair up front. England had May Goodwin in goal, Mabel Bradbury at full-back, and Maud Starling at half-back.

It was noted that the players dressed very suitably, and from a distance could not be distinguished from men. The Scotland team wore blue jerseys, white knickerbockers, red sashes, blue and white stockings, and blue and white cowls. England wore red jerseys, blue sashes, white knickerbockers, red and white stockings, and red and white cowls. TheGlasgow Herald said both teams played in ‘high-heeled boots’.

Scotland won 3-0, but the Bell’s match report was so dismissive it didn't even mention the score. ‘The football shown was of the most primitive order,’ it said, calling the match ‘a humiliating spectacle’. The event had, however, attracted a large crowd, and a second match was arranged for the following week, this time in Glasgow, at Shawfield. Around 5,000 spectators turned up, and it was noted that none of them were ‘of the fair sex’.

The rowdy crowd made uncomplimentary remarks throughout the first half. Then, in the second half, hundreds of spectators charged onto the pitch and ‘roughly jostled’ the women, sending them fleeing back to their horse-drawn omnibus. Pitch invaders pulled up marker stakes and threw them at the bus, jeering as it made a hasty retreat. The players escaped with ‘nothing more than serious fright’.

Thankfully, the unpleasant incident didn't put an end to women’s football in the Victorian era, although it would be almost 15 years before the emergence of the first high-profile women's club.

‘There was an astonishing sight in the neighbourhood of the Nightingale Lane Ground, Crouch End, on Saturday afternoon,’ reported theSketch in March 1895. ‘Crouch End itself rubbed its eyes and pinched its arms. All through the afternoon train-loads of excited people journeyed over from all parts, and the respectable array of carriages, cabs, and other vehicles marked a record in the history of football.’

The event was the first public match of the British Ladies’ Football Club, which had been formed a few months earlier by Miss Nettie Honeyball (pictured right). Advertisements attracted around 30 female footballers, who trained twice-weekly under the tutelage of Tottenham Hotspur wing-half Bill Julian.

Honeyball explained that she and her teammates had gained their knowledge and love of football ‘from frequent on-looking’. But the formation of the club brought disdain and derision. The ladies were prevented from practising at the Oval, and were mocked in newspapers.

Once again, great interest surrounded the players’ outfits, at a time when it was unheard of for women to wear trousers, never mind football shorts. However, the club’s baggy blouses and long knickerbockers, tall stockings and fishermen’s caps were very modest, and left everything to the imagination. The players also wore shin guards and football boots – with high-heels having been deemed impractical.

The match saw the club divided into two teams representing North and South London. ‘It would be idle to attempt any description of the play,’ said theSketch. ‘The first few minutes were sufficient to show that football by women is totally out of the question. A footballer requires speed, judgement, skill, and pluck. Not one of these four qualities was apparent on Saturday.’

The players were jeered, and many of the spectators had left by the time the final whistle blew – with North London winning 7-1. Commercially, however, the match had been a huge success – so much so that Honeyball took her team on a lengthy tour that saw them play around 100 exhibition matches over the next two years.

This is an edited extract from The Victorian Football Miscellany by Paul Brown.

Excellent read "high heeled football boots though !!!!"

 

[jaycee]