The Ref reminisces about The Old Showground, the home of the Iron until 1988 when we lead the way in moving to a purpose built out of town stadium.
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Take a trip with me, around the shabby, yet rewarding, sprawl that was the Old Showground. The home of Scunthorpe United during their glory days of the fifties and less glorious dark ages of the early seventies, it was looking it's age for a long time before Graham Pearson decided to `clear our debts` by laying it to waste.
I used to enter, with my Dad, in the late sixties, behind the magnificent cantilever East Stand. All-seated apart from the paddock at the front, this stand was a fine place from which to watch the dire fare on offer. It was divided into three sections vertically, the middle section being proper seats, the outer sections being benches. There was a tunnel in the paddock below leading to where the lawnmowers etc. were kept under the stand. This was also where the players would train in bad weather. Walking from the East Stand paddock towards the Donny Rd. end there was a section of uncovered terracing, about twelve steps deep. Behind the terrace was a muck and stone bank leading down to the toilets and an eight-foot wall topped with broken glass that was a poor deterrent to the penniless youth of the day! Further on were the turnstiles and big double exit gates that were opened not long after half-time for dishevelled urchins to gain entrance and disenchanted old men to gain escape. Up the slope from the turnstile was the floodlight on it's solid concrete base which was often clambered up by the afore-mentioned free-wheelers.
Now we come to the legendary Donny Rd. end. In truth it was a dark, damp and drafty shed but it was where we learned our football-supporting skills. It could probably hold about 9,000, not particularly comfortably. Behind the stand were the vilest toilets in the ground and the second easiest point of free entry (the easiest being behind the Fox Street end). The petrol station had a handy, scaleable fence that backed onto the toilet roof and there was often a queue of parka-clad rogues and vagabonds waiting to snag their wrist-tied silk scarves on the barbed wire. At the top of the terrace was a snack bar, which was the setting for a particularly amusing food fight when Sheffield United fans strolled across the pitch and “took” the Donny Rd. The singers stood to the left of the snack bar and the age groups could be differentiated by their relative positions on the terracing of the “kop”.
At half-time, in the good old days, if United were kicking towards the Fox St in the second-half, the majority of the Donny Rd would head round behind the West Stand to the other end. This entailed walking down to a fence that was supposed to keep the hoi polloi apart from the more refined customer in The Hendy Ave paddock. A coffin dodger who had neither the time nor the inclination to stop anyone from going through manned a gate in the fence. At the top of the fence, on the Donny Rd side was a programme shop that was frequented by the anoraked, anally retentive dullards among us. On passing through the gate the older of our number could make their way through to the old Henderson Avenue Club, which formed part of the ground, along with a betting shop.
The West Stand was the oldest part of the ground and the dearest. Up in the seats it was also the place with the worst view. There were at least half a dozen pillars blocking the view of the slumbering directors and, during night matches, it was the darkest place on Earth. At the front of the old stand was another, deeper, paddock which was a meeting place for the “Ashman Out” brigade who stood directly behind the dug-out giving dear old Ron a hearty welcome every game. The paddock on the other side of the player's tunnel was where the “Lads” would stand for the Grimsby, Lincoln, Donny etc. games. It was also the best vantage point for seeing the skies light up during night matches. After walking round the back of the West stand you had the choice of going into this paddock or walking down a slag track to the Fox Street terrace. Above the terrace leading to The Fox Street was the late, lamented 1500 Club where miserable old sods could be seen staring out of tear-stained windows at the shabby offerings below. The Fox St end was nearly identical to the Donny Rd but, from here, the ground looked completely different. You could see a definite slope in the pitch from West to East and the Donny Rd, obviously, always looked fuller. Behind the Fox St was the main access point for rob-dogs; Dyas Motors had a shitty mesh fence that was ripped apart in many places and there was always a lack of stewards, away we went!
The Fox Street end was the scene of two of my abiding memories of the OSG; it being full of Grimsby fans, many in white boiler suits in the style of Clockwork Orange, and one of my mates being the last ever person arrested on the OSG during the last ever game versus Torquay for stealing a Torquay flag and running back with it across towards the Donny Rd.
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