Bury

With the nights drawing in, leaves falling from the trees and a chill in the air, we are into the football season proper. The sunny days of August and September are behind us, early season optimism is settling down and the spring, with its promotions and relegations, seems a long way off.
At least in this day and age we don’t have to worry too much about the pitches as winter approaches. As recently as the 1980’s the style of play would be altered by inches of mud.
A good illustration of the conditions that had to be endured came during a First Division match between City and Bury in early 1910. The pitch was apparently almost totally devoid of grass and frozen solid. The forwards found it difficult to keep their footing on the treacherous pitch. Chances were few and far between and, with defenders able to quickly close down the naturally cautious forwards, a goalless draw was inevitable. The only real entertainment came when the ball became stuck in a trombone that was inexplicably lying alongside the pitch.
The game was a complete contrast to the goal feast the two sides had served up at Gigg Lane earlier in the season. Bury took the lead, but City soon equalised. Bury went 2-1 up, but back came City with another equaliser. Then Frank O’Rourke turned quickly in the box and fired City into the lead for the first time in the match. The home side made it 3-3, which set up a frantic finish as both sides went all out for the victory.
Fine minutes from time City’s big money signing, striker Bob Whittingham, set off on a zigzagging run towards goal. The ball was glued to his foot as he ghosted past several defenders and then unleashed an unstoppable shot that gave City a 4-3 victory. The press described Whittingham’s winner as one of the finest ever scored by a City player.
The 1909/10 season saw City finish in a respectable seventh position. Given that they had escaped relegation on the final match of the previous season, seventh place in the top division was a fabulous effort. However, there had been some disquiet on the terraces. City had been top of the table on New Years Day 1910, but a spate of injuries disrupted the side throughout the remainder of the campaign.
One extreme example of City’s misfortunes came when they visited bottom of the league Bolton Wanderers. A goalless draw at a relegation haunted club might not seem much to crow about, but City had to play the final fifteen minutes with nine men and two of those were nursing serious injuries. So in effect it was seven against eleven! In those days substitutions weren’t allowed, so teams had to struggle on.
The carnage at Burnden Park included George Robinson playing on with blood gushing down his face after a clash of heads. He did briefly retire to receive stitches at the side of the pitch. No sooner was the last stitch put in place, Robinson was back in the fray. City’s England international Evelyn Lintott was so seriously injured that the game was stopped. Lintott later commented that it was the first time he had known a game to be halted for an injury in his sixteen-year career. Lintott played on and was at the heart of the gallant stand in the closing stages of the game.
The injury was to have serious consequences for Lintott. He was sidelined for over six months and didn’t return until early 1911. By that time the team that was to win the FA Cup had been brought together and Lintott struggled to get back in the side. Prior to his injury he had been one of the first names on the team sheet, indeed he had been captain and his passing was at the heart of everything the side did. Into his shoes stepped Jimmy Speirs – the man who was destined to score the goal that would win the cup for City.
Lintott’s heroics at Bolton arguably cost him a place in the FA Cup winning side of 1911. That was some price to pay, but not as great as the sacrifice both Lintott and Speirs made in the Great War – as both men were killed in action.

Luton Town

The return of home fans to the Bradford End of the ground has undoubtedly improved the atmosphere in the ground. Today it is the TL Dallas Stand, but to many it will remain the ‘Shed’ or ‘Bradford End’.
Though corporate sponsorship is now an essential part of every clubs income, the frequent re-brandings can cause confusion. A national newspaper journalist once rang me requesting directions to the Bradford and Bingley Stadium and asked why we had left Valley Parade.
Of course, traditions have to start somewhere. The Carlsberg Stand is still known universally as the Kop. Almost exactly 100 years ago the Bradford Daily Argus began calling the terrace the ‘Spion Kop’. Until that point it had been known as ‘Nunn Kop’ after its creator, City director John Nunn.
Nunn had commenced work in 1906 when he persuaded several companies to use the plateau at the top of the terrace as a free tip for ashes. Tipping continued for several months at a rate of 40 loads a day. Nunn’s Kop was finally completed in February 1907, when some 16,000 loads of rubbish and ashes had been tipped.
The complete rebuilding of Valley Parade in readiness for top-flight football in the summer of 1908 saw the Nunn Kop receive the latest concrete terracing. Probably because it was now one of the biggest and best terraces in the country, it was given the title ‘Spion Kop’ which it retained for the best part of eighty years.
The name Spion Kop hailed from the South African hill where a large number of northern troops had died during the Boer War. The odd name hails from the Dutch language, Spion is ‘spy’ or ‘look out’ and kop means ‘hill’.
Though the British actually won the battle of Spion Kop, they suffered such heavy casualties that the order was given to withdraw. After so much blood had been spilt, it caused a huge controversy, so much so that the Government of the day nearly fell.
The event was still fresh in the collective memory when it came to naming the many large terraces being built across the north of England and beyond. Whether the name was inspired by respect for the dead, or contempt for the General’s who ordered the retreat, is a moot question.
Today, the word Kop has entered modern language as an automatic reference to football terraces, whilst the battle itself is largely forgotten.