Posted by : Aitch
Date : 02/04/2010
Subject : Rocking at Thorpe Station

Norwich City versus Tottenham Hotspur at Carrow Road on the 20th of October 1973. I went to that game (as I did all home matches at that time). I don't remember it because it was a great game - quite the opposite in fact, City played poorly, Spurs were not much better. But I do remember it for an event after the game which I now look back on in amusement but at the time was extremely frightening.

Playing Spurs was always a highlight of the season for me, a game where you would expect a good level of entertainment. In 1973 however, with both sides in the lower half of the table, it was a mediocre contest. A win would have done Norwich the world of good but spirits plummeted just before half time when Alan Gilzean, that most wonderful of players, powered home a header from a Spurs corner. After the break City toiled for an equaliser but with the crowd switching off, the atmosphere inside Carrow Road drained away. And with just under 10 minutes to go, two 14 year old boys had seen enough. The thought of getting out of the ground early, and thereby avoiding the usual crush and getting an earlier bus home, was too much of a temptation. And Norwich were never going to score.

We always had two choices of bus home - the 29A from Thorpe Station or the 88 from Bank Plain. In reality, the first choice was a real rush, especially if the game over ran by a minute or two. So in normal circumstances we would take a more leisurely walk to Bank Plain. But because we were early on this day, we went to Thorpe Station, via Riverside. This area today is a retail park. But in 1973 it was desolate. You had the Boulton & Paul site and the railway yards on one side and on the other the river. As I related to in an earlier post, the River Wensum at this place was a big river - and we often didn't dare take this route. Don't forget I am talking about a time when football hooliganism was at its worst, and the threat of 'going in the river' was a real one - and something a 14 year old boy may well not have survived.

Anyway, on this particular day it was relatively quiet. We were not the only ones to leave the match prematurely mind, the game had been awful and there were a couple dozen like minded people scuffling home disappointed. We weren't too far down Riverside, probably by the B&P gatehouse, when we heard the crowd roar. Not a huge roar. But a roar for certain. An old boy ( most definitely a River Ender !) , said '' There goes. 2-0 ''. He was right. The noise was not loud enough to be a City goal. We continued our trudge to the bus stop even more depressed.

I guess we were two thirds of the way there when we heard more noise. Looking back over our shoulders, it was a stampede. I am going to say 1000's (though in reality 100's, but come on, to a young lad it looked like 1000's) of Spurs fans charging down Riverside towards us. We legged it I tell you, just getting to the Station forecourt (opposite that little newspaper kiosk) in time. Thankfully the 29A was sitting there waiting for passengers so we jumped on and got upstairs where we had a fantastic view of the Spurs boys about to start a riot. The bus driver still had 5 minutes or so before departure time so we had a ringside seat. Things got more exciting when the first of the Norwich bovver boys arrived down Thorpe Road, having left the ground in the other direction. We could hear sirens coming down Prince Of Wales Road. This was going to be one hell of a battle. But the green and yellow scarves were desperately out numbered and the few there were sensibly retreated at this stage. Leaving the Spurs yobs only one target...............the 29A bus !!

They surrounded it. The driver barricaded himself in. The conductor bravely stopped the enemy getting on the bus. So they rocked it. Big push on one side. Big push on the other side. Side to side. First it lurched one way - then the other. We were terrified. Especially as we had been taunting the aggressors through the window from what we thought was the safety of the top deck. A few Harvey Smiths, nothing more.They banged on the sides of the bus. Women and children were screaming. We held onto the metal bars on the seats tightly. For a few seconds it looked like the bus might go over. In reality I doubt it ever would have done - it was a big heavy beast. But we were truly petrified.

Then it all ended. As quick as it had started. The police arrived in numbers, the Spurs boys ran into the railway station to continue their fighting there, the bus driver sensibly decided to get the hell out of it !! Our bravado returned as the bus travelled up Prince Of Wales Road towards safety - we had survived and had a great story to tell at school on Monday. As the passengers on the bus settled down we wondered why the lads from London had been so riled. We found out from a man a few seats away. Apparently, in the 85th minute, David Cross had hit the bar with a header. Chance missed. But Doug Livermore was on hand to knock it in. 1-1. Yoohoooo !! And we had missed the only fun of the afternoon by leaving early.

Or had we...............