5 of us set off in a Ford Granada, only supposed to be 4 off us going but me best mate decided last minute to fuck off his holiday with his bird and his engagement and literally jump in, best move he ever made he says to this day.
1 was 18 at the time, so my first one, remember being gutted in 81 when me dad and all his brothers and mates left for Paris flags furled getting told I was to young to go for that one.There was no stopping me for Rome.
The innocence of youth is great to look back on, no plan, no sat nav, just a fucking big map, load of ale and a two man tent.
We stopped off in France on the way, one of them roadside pull overs, to pissed to get the tent up so a few kipped in the car and a couple of us on some benches, i woke up to a tap on the shoulder from a French Bizzie telling us to move on. Next stop was a little town on the coast of Italy called La Spezzia, spent a good day and night here on the piss and had a ball, cheap red wine , fine young Italian girls, and a few dodgy moments with locals but on the whole all good, we loaded up on the cheap plonk and set off to Rome.
Arriving in Rome, with the scarfs and flags decking the car out, hanging out the car singing was magnificent. Yellow and red flags everywhere hanging from buildings, we felt like fucking kings arriving.
To be fair the Romans in the few days before the game were sound to us, loads of good banter, an epic drunken game of footie against a load of their fans on a field outside the Collisium, playing headers in the Trevi fountain, getting interviewed by radio city and me family just happened hear it back home. Me mate got a spare from Paul Usher of all people( Barry Grant from Brookie who had a mate with one extra…fucking happy days) Everything was falling into place. We found a campsite on the outskirts owned by a Lazio fan who was a cracking fella, he lent us a tent too, and gave us the name of a Lazio bar and directions for it after the game, which proved to be some of the best advice I think I ever have been given in hindsight.
You could literally feel the change in mood on the day of the game, the couple of days before the Romans we met were very welcoming, it was good to get off the tram and walk down a big tree lined boulevard, more yellow and red flags draped everywhere, them big foam fingers, and the red and white checkers in our end, some fella next to us stumbled in bladdered and slept through the whole game, we woke his up for the penalties. I can't remember much of the game at all, sang myself hoarse, I remember sitting down for for Kennedy's penalty, bottling it.Pure joy when it went in…then a few bonfires in there end, then that walk out after, getting rained on with bottles and bricks, dads with kids sheltering ..fucking despicable twats, we legged it to the Lazio bar where our campsite boss met us , the place was bouncing . A few good bevvies in there and off back to the campsite, fair do's this fella had put a big spread on in the camp bar and the drinks flowed. About 30 reds had found the campsite and we had a ball in there. We were lucky to meet this fella , loads of accounts off mates from after the game all much like the ones in here.
The trip home was long, no money for food, just petrol and the ferry money, we met a few older hands at our campsite who had drove down and we followed them all the way back, every time they stopped and cooked on a grill out of the boot of their car they brought us food over, great fellas , we would have been fucked without there help on the way back. Sitting here now 30 years later I wonder where the fuck they went…30 years....christ. It was the start of many a foray into Europe following the reds though for me, the comarardierie of fellow reds has always been the same and them old hands who helped us on the way back has always stuck with me.