I have supported Reading FC since I was 11 years old. They are my team. When I was young I was very much a girly girl. I spent hours pairing Sindy and Barbie off with my bro’s action man (they were generally prince and princess or film stars obvs) and destroying my Girlsworld with felt tip pens and REAL shampoo (don’t ever put real shampoo on a Girls World its not pretty). I’d walk round in my Mum’s platform heels and painted my nails (v badly) at every available opportunity – with or without permission from the Olds. I even used to get my Mum to put my hair in bunches (I will spare you of THOSE pics). I was your stereotypical girly girl.
(Girls world - not mine but frankly this one looks better than mine ended up)
I have mentioned before that my brother was somewhat of a hero to me when I was young. When we were little he was my best friend. I am not entirely sure why I idolized him so much as my Mum tells me he did try and over dose me on cough meds when I was first born . Ok overdose might be a TAD strong but he did give me a spoonful or two when he shouldn’t have but it was Penicillin for crying out loud! He was disappointed I was not a boy. Thank the Lord I say, I would have been called Robin if I was (again my brothers doing). Of course as brother and sister we did used to fight, a lot. He even gave me a black eye once. I actually think that time we weren’t fighting we were giddy tickling each other and he elbowed me in the face. It was his fault. Clearly I milked that.
My brother has always been sport crazy. He would play and watch anything sport related. Football, tennis, golf, F1, rugby, snooker. All of it. He is the same today (my nephews really don’t stand a chance). When we were kids sport on TV was completely accessible, none of this Sky Sports paying for it malarkey. Football was on Saturdays at 3pm, apart from the odd game on a Sunday afternoon which was shown live on normal telly (can you imagine). To begin with I fought it. I was never that interested in people kicking a ball around a field for 90minutes. I soon learnt though that unless I wanted to play on my own for a couple of hours (perish the thought) I needed to actually give watching football a go.
The first game I watched was on the telly. Spurs were playing Arsenal. My brother wanted Arsenal to win and so I backed Spurs. Personally I feel it’s impossible to watch any sport without wanting one team or one person to win. I can’t understand how people do that. Maybe that says more about me than anything else. So I sat with him and I watched the game and bizarrely I enjoyed it. It was exciting when someone scored. To be honest I had no idea about the other rules and drove my brother and Dad mad asking 101 questions like whats a free kick? What does a yellow card mean? Why can they run with the ball when they throw in etc (OK I am a girl. We played netball – well I did anyway and you cant run up for a throw in at netball for pitys sake!). Overall, whilst I didn’t want to admit it, I liked it and to be honest I have had a soft spot for Spurs ever since.
My Dad had already started taking my brother to watch Reading play (our local team). I am not sure how long before this was but I would say it was probably a couple of years that they had been going, not every game but quite a lot. I remember one Saturday they were going and I have no idea what my Mum was doing but she wasn’t going to be home. Normally my Granddad would have looked after me but for some reason he couldn’t either. In hindsight he was probably off ‘wine tasting’ or some other excuse for boozing with my Mum. I suspect she wouldn’t even attempt to deny this either. I got sunstroke when we went on holiday once because my Dad was looking after us whilst my Mum and Granddad went ‘wine tasting’ in bloody Greece (have you tasted Greek wine?!). My Dad decided aftersun would work as well as SPF, needless to say he and I spent that even feeling shockingly bad in the bloody hotel room. I was 6 years old. My Granddad used to look after us a lot. He was awesome but that is for another time altogether. As a result of everyone elses jam packed social lives it was suggested I went along to football with my Dad and brother.
On Saturday 30 April 1987 I went to my first Reading game. I was 11 years old (just). As I wasn’t a member we had to go in the Tilehurst end at Elm Park. Football wasn’t like it is today. There were no seats at this stage and there was still the wire netting at the front of the stand to stop fans running on to the pitch (pitch invasions were quite common at this time). This was all to change following the Hillsborough tragedy of course, at the time though it was very normal to stand on concrete blocks with the occasional resting post scattered about. Fans were allowed to smoke and drink on the stands and well frankly I wouldn’t recommend anyone ever used at toilet at Elm Park, ever. The lasting impact of that experience was quite damaging as a child I can tell you. The thought still makes me shudder, even at 35. The ground used to smell of cigarettes and meat pies all the time. Even now when I smell cigarette smoke outside on a cold day I think of Elm Park.
Reading played Sheffield United that day. We won 2-1. I remember it clearly because the referee gave a penalty to Sheffield United and I couldn’t watch (I have been the same way with penalties ever since). I put my hands over my eyes like you do when you are 11 years old (ok maybe I still do that now but only sometimes...honest). The whistle blew and all the Reading fans went crazy, I couldn’t understand why my bro and Dad were cheering. We had saved the penalty. That was the second to last game of the season. My brother and Dad thought I might be a good omen and so I became a member, I got a scarf and a Reading hat and they took me to the last home game of the season too against Derby County. We drew 0-0. We were relegated that year from the 2nd division (what is now the Championship) to the 3rd.
For me none of that really mattered. Of course it did matter that they went down but what I mean is it stuck. I firmly believe you don’t choose your team, it chooses you. If we all chose who we supported we would be piling into Old Trafford at every opportunity because Manchester United always win (ok well not the Champions League this year but you get my drift). I know a lot of people do support the big teams but for most of us the team we support has very little to do with their success or glory hunting. It has far more to do with loyalty, pride and a real connection you’re your team. There are not many occasions where you choose to spend 90 minutes in a bloody freezing football ground in mid winter watching your team lose to Burnley 1-0 or similar. And to pay for it at that. For those who do it is a passion through good and bad.
I lived in Manchester for 11 years. My ex boyfriend was a big United fan and he had a season ticket. I would go with him when his friend was working and I saw some great football. I saw Giggs, Cantona, Hughes, Robson, Beckham all of them real playing live in the actually real live flesh. I was very lucky to have that opportunity when so many others do not. Many United fans have never actually seen them play. Never once did I feel they were my team though. When I was at Uni I lived on the same road as their training ground and I would see the players every day. The team were very successful then as they are now, they were Premiership champions countless times and even won the Champions league when I lived there. The atmosphere in Manchester was amazing that night and the following days but I never turned. I am a Reading girl and always will be.
Last Monday I went to Wembley with my Dad and Brother on to watch my team in the Premiership play off final. We had never expected them to get to the playoffs this year, not even slightly. They had not started the season well at all but they turned it round and did amazingly well over the past few months and had a cracking game against Cardiff in the semi’s. My brother and Dad have had season tickets for many years now. They actually have seats these days since we moved to the Mad Stad and strangely enough it never gets as cold as it did in the South bank at Elm Park, although it does still smell of pies. For us Wembley this year was an unexpected bonus. I thought the only time I would be making a trip their this year was to see Take That....
My Dad basically treated my bro and I to the tickets. It was a bit like a return to the days when we all used to go together. That was super nice. The atmosphere was brilliant, from the moment I got on the train at Reading all the way to the ground. 42,000 Reading fans creating a sea of blue and white around the West half of Wembley. Reading is not a huge place. It’s a small world and most people know someone who knows someone who knows you. It’s like that here. That’s can be both good and bad. Not great if you are trying to avoid your ex to be honest. But at times like this I think it’s awesome. It felt like one big family outing to watch our team, our boys. Of course a lot of those fans will never have seen Reading play before and whilst some criticize that my view on this is quite simple. I became a fan when they were relegated. Going through the good and the bad is what bonds you to your team and if this means Reading find more fans as a result then this can only ever be a good thing. If it took them getting to Wembley to make them interested well thats fine so long as they remain interested.
Unfortunately it was not to be our day. We were 3-0 down at half time and that felt honestly quite crushing. We did not deserve that score line at all. In the second half we had an amazing 20 minutes where we pulled in back to 3-2 and even his the post and then they were awarded a second penalty and scored from it to make it 4-2. On the day Swansea were the better team and they deserved to win. That didn’t make it any easier then and it doesn’t now. The thing is even when they are 3-0 down at half time there is a little part of you that believes they can still do it, there is hope, there is loyalty and there is pride. Maybe that’s why so many people adore football and their team. There is always that glimmer of hope and that chance of glory. And when that comes it feels amazing.
We may not have won but I was and still am proud we got there at all. And when we played well it was anyone’s game. So whilst those of you do don’t get the whole football thing will think what is she rabbiting on about today, those of you who do (or feel passion about any team in Sport) will understand. We are very proud of our team. Automatic promotion next year boys. That is what we are good at, lets stop messing about with these pesky play off’s.
Reading FC forever x
www.readingfc.co.uk
Laterz taters xx
P.S. White rabbits dudes ;) xx
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