Cliftonville : The Fighting Irish

Following our recent CliftonVille Revisited item, we received this response from someone else who attended the game, travelling a great distance for the experience…

Cliftonville from a NewJerseyan’s perspective

Hi fellow-ETims, JoeMcGonigal here, proud member of the “MotherClub”, the Kearny New Jersey USA CSC. My one ‘brush with greatness’ via ETims, is that I earned an honorable mention from one of your quizzes awhile back.

Cliftonville Aug 1984….seeing these pics brought back so many memories, wow.

Planning THAT trip originally was to go to Glasgow the weekend before, check out the World Pipe Band Championships at the Green (I’m an active piper regionally, in a family with an 80-year history in the pipe band world in these parts). A coupla days with my Glasgow cousins, train to Stranraer, ferry to Larne, and onto Dublin to see my Dad’s Mum’s side of the family. While in Glasgow, I hear Celtic meetin’ Cliftonville in a friendly on the following Tues. Great stuff says I, I get to see my team in action.

While parachuting into the ‘Fair Green Place’, we see on the TV all the street demonstrations, the riots, mayhem and all, and I see poor Sean Downes being felled by a rubber bullet during this sickening rout. My cousins were worried, ALL of ’em took me aside at some point and begged me NOT to go through Belfast, or even attend the match. Being a daft+naive Yank, I pooh-poohed + “pish ‘n toshed” them, assuring all that I’d be fine. Yeah, sure.

I’m from Kearny, NJ, just outside NYC. I grew up in a town heavily influenced by Scots+Irish immigrants, like my Grandparents, Aunts+Uncles for decades (with a smattering of English, we let ’em in), plus all the culture that comes with it – accents, chippies, music (trad. Irish, pipebands) Highland + Irish step-dancing, butcher shops, and of course, football. Celtic Boys teams came over every summer. My town boasted Tab Ramos, Tony Meola + John Harkes. I met Claudio Reyna’s Dad at a satellited Tic v. Them match.

As a teen I met the Lisbon Lions when they visited the local Irish Club late 60’s.

I was in the old Jungle Aug/Spt 1978, again in 1980. In other words, the way we were raised, with Scottish soccer coaches and all, I knew Glasgow well enough, + “the scene” with travelling ‘Tic fans.

With my Cardonald cousins gettin’ me to Paisley’s Gilmour Train station (with a sare heid) way too early Mon am, onto Stranraer! Seeing young Tic fans on the ferry, had a pint with some of ’em, asking about tickets and all, and landed in Larne, Norn Iron. Found an urban B+B on Antrim Rd, took a wee stroll.  Occasional fully-armed Brit troops about, saw some young Tic fans looking for a boozers, and one of ’em had no shirt on, but had the Tricolor painted on his body. “Wow” I thought, “that’s one brave boy”……

Onto the Tic match Tues night! Walked past the Belfast Water Works, joined other fans towards Solitude. Many fans were wearing the colors of both teams, a smattering of red/white and green/white. Quite festive really, in spite of the heavy presence of the cops.

Got into the Main Stand, about 1/3 to the side of the rightside penalty box. A sort of “Director’s / VIP’s” box was up behind me. I knew nobody, but caught some friendly waves/acknowledgements  from some of the Lhads I met on the ferry.

Celtic clearly were the better side, 1 goal, 2 goals, can’t recall when the 3rd was scored, but one can sense a real thick negative feeling + air about the place; I was really on edge. I distinctly recall some young fans across from us, standing on an old corrugated metal roof, and 1 or 2 of ’em fell off (or through!) the damn thing, landing on top of other supporters! We all looked at each other, incredulously, like “did that really just happen?”  I also recall that across from us in the Main Stand, a couple of RUC went into a crowd (where ‘the Jungle’ would’ve been) and forcibly took a Tricolor flag off some young ‘uns. That crowd started booing, and sure enough, we all saw from my Main Stand vantage point that the RUC were puttin on their “Darth Vadar” helmets, and then “The Charge” began.  It was a scene from the Crusades. Or even Braveheart. Back ‘n forth, to ‘n fro, Cops vs Fans, you all know the drill…… hurt, bloodied bodies of fans being left behind. Sad to say, the game was still going on, but no one in that stadium was paying attention to the pitch.

I recall the score was 4-0, but then the negative ripple effects of the fighting across from us started spreading. I saw some men with quite young kids starting to leave, and sure enough, the RUC around the fenced-in pen that we were standing in started to put on their DarthVadar helmets. We’re all looking at each other like “……what the Hell, what, do we gotta fight our way outta here ?…. ”

Three or four steps down from me, a cop was fumbling with his helmet, when someone from a distance hurled a bottle at him, hitting him square in his head; down he goes, and other fans started stomping/kicking him. Sure enough, bedlam abounds, his reinforcements come in, and we get charged+ surged into.  I was sucked onto the right-side fence of our pen, and I recall us all shouting at the Director’s Box, pleading them to “do something!”. One guy up there looked just like Sean Fallon, but I never verified that.

I then did something really stupid, recalling those crazy days. I brought my brother’s nice camera with me on this trip, and stupid me started taking pics of the rioting all around me. I took approx. 18 snaps in all, and as our pen quieted down, with fans squeezing through the wee gate about 15-20 rows below, I was like “screw the game, I’m outta here!”

Then, it got worse for me……

With the camera strapped ’round my neck, I zipped up the camera under my jacket, and tried to just follow the crowd out. An older, smaller ‘Tic fan slides up to me, and with a thick Ulster accent says “Haund over yer caumera”….  I say “what?”, like whaddya mean?  He says again with his hand outstretched “I sayid haund over the caumera!” With that, an RUC stuck his billyclub right into my throat, where the collarbone meets under your Adam’s apple.

He too demands that I hand over the ‘caumera’.

Well, the 3 of us do this swirling dance round ‘n round, they’re both screaming for my camera, I’m telling ’em to F-OFF, I remember the straps almost choking me, and then they must’ve broken, because I tumbled down on my head and back of my neck and shoulders, down at least 10 of those concrete steps. I remember the RUC rushing to me, I was waiting for the back-of-the-knee blow that they’re famous for (which surprisingly didnt happen). I started screaming at them in my best NY/NJ American accent, cursing them using common US terms like “f’ckn jerkoff”, “fckn asshole”, “ill-bred shit-eating mother-fcker, gimme my camera!”…… you get my drift.

Well, they held my arms back similar to when the Glasgow Polis would do that, and the Jungle would sing “….ya houli houli houli houligan!…..”  I couldnt move without breaking my arms, so under the stadium I went. Passing scores of young kids with heads bleeding, mouths bleeding, missing teeth, etc. Fathers, older brothers/uncles screaming at the RUC/Ambulance-emergency people for going through this.

They whisked me into a room, peppering me with questions like, “who are you? American citizen you say?, Where did you come from, where were you so far, where are you staying, what are your future plans here, and why did you take those pictures?” I was answering back, “Reach into my back-pocket, get my passport, go ahead, check me out…” Then a suit ‘n tie guy came in, asking me questions like “do you have relatives here?” “Are you a member of SeinFein”; “Are You a member of Irish Northern Aid?” That’s when I thought it’s getting through to them that I’m a real US citizen.  I was demanding my camera returned, they never mentioned the camera, and I told ’em “all yer gonna see is World pipeband pics, some of my Glasgow cousins, and tonight’s game.” I also pointedly told ’em that I thought I was going to a sporting event, not a mindless, needless riot.

They let me go sans camera, gave me the contact info for the Old Park police station, that I should check in there the next morning. Went back to my digs, told the landlady (think she was Protestant, but very pleasant) of my experience; she felt bad and got on the phone w people (RUC? never found out). Sure enough

I went to the gray drab fortress that posed as a police station, spoke to a couple of Officers outside the heavily barbed-wired place, told ’em my story, they shook their heads, looked at me funny, and mentioned something like “you’re far away from home”, and “you’re hangin out with the wrong people.” Again, I pointedly told them that I’m a soccer fan, and I thought I’d check out a SPORTING EVENT, not a full-blown, one-sided riot. They said I should come in and inquire about my missing camera, but my inner-defenses said “no way”, I said “just gimme my camera and I’m outta here”.

Never did get brother Kevin’s camera. Found out from several folks on all sides of “the Divide” that if the pics went to the ‘wrong hands’, then the cops would be targeted.

Frankly, I couldn’t wait to flee Belfast, for the safer confines of Dublin. Told my Glasgow cousins the whole story, plus my Dad’s Dublin cousins, and bought a camera for the rest of the trip. But seeing these photos in this article brought back a TON of  memories. Really hope nobody goes through that come this July.

Cheers all,

Joe McGonigal