I got the train from Cardiff to Rock Ferry and then double-decker buses took us to the ground. On the way, we saw nothing but Jocks, however, when we arrived outside the Kop End, you could see Welsh scarfs hanging out of those narrow, slit-like, windows they have high up. "Great!", I thought, the Jocks could have threequarters of the ground for all I cared, as long as we have a full Kop End of 20,000+ taffs, who cares!
How wrong I was... we were squashed up in the far right corner (looking down at the pitch) and they hurled everything at us, bottles, empty cans, half-full cans, lighters, coins.. the lot!
I was 16 at the time and nervous as hell - but one funny moment was a City lad, Ching, perhaps some of you will remember him from the 70's and 80's (from Canton)? Well, anyway - the missiles are flying over towards us and he stands up on one of the crush barriers and shouts to us.. "C'mon, there they are. Over there"! - he was urging us to have a go at them, but it was the they way in which he felt the need to point out where 18,000 Jocks might be.. we were bloody surrounded by 'em!