Tuesday 18th May 1982 - Newport County v Swindon Town

HMS Antelope explodes at the
entrance to San Carlos Water,
Falkland Islands, 24th May 1982

The year 1982 is best remembered for the Falklands War and while Margaret Thatcher was busy buying her 1983 General Election win with the lives of 255 UK service personnel in the South Atlantic (prior to the Falklands conflict she was the most unpopular post-WW II Prime Minister with only 25% of the electorate satisfied with her premiership), closer to home Swindon Town Football Club was facing the unthinkable of relegation to Division 4 for the first time in its history.

Thursday 18th May 2017 will see the 35th anniversary of the infamous date when Swindon Town visited South Wales knowing that only a win would safeguard its Division 3 status. Newport County had visited the County Ground ten days earlier when a certain John Aldridge had equalised for the Welsh side not long after Roy Carter had put Swindon ahead from the penalty spot. The draw and a subsequent loss away to Portsmouth on 15th May 1982 meant that the last game of the season away against "The Ironsides" was a "must win" affair for the Town. With this as the background, a group of us callow Swindon youths, 16, 17 and 18 year olds, decided that a road trip to the Welsh Valleys was in order. Two of the group had cars and, in order to max out the occupancy and lighten the load on our pockets, viz. petrol money, a couple of lads from outside our gang were drafted in. Given that this was in the days when hooliganism in football was rife and as ones who were only interested in going to watch the football, we were keen to stay away from trouble. However, the vetting process was along the lines of "Are they all right?".
"He's a bit of a nutter, but he's fine."
"Can he afford the petrol money?"
"Yes."
"He's in."

The M4 wasn't as crowded back in the eighties as it is now, but a great deal of Swindon seemed to be heading west that evening. Scarves trailing from car windows, this wasn't a cheery day out to Wembley, seeking glory at the fabled Twin Towers, this was to be a grim do-or-die affair in the land of Welsh Steel where anything other than a win for the Robins would spell an ignominious drop to the bottom of the Football League.

We spent the time chatting and getting to know the new members of our "Band of Brothers". As the cars ate up the miles and the Severn Bridge loomed nearer, it was becoming clear that at least one of our new brethren was one of those 80's football fans whose main interest seemed to be to visit new and interesting places, greet the inhabitants and then beat ten tons of  brown stuff out of them...only when within a group of like-minded fellows, though. My thoughts were that this didn't bode well.

Having crossed the Severn Bridge and with Cardiff receding in the rear view mirror, the M4 snaked its way towards Newport. You could smell the old Welsh city set astride the River Usk before you could see it. Towards the south east of the city was the enormous steelworks and it loomed large out of the nearside car windows. Dominating the horizon, the smoke and steam spewing from the chimney stacks and cooling towers lent it a menacing appearance, and it gave me a sense of foreboding that only Frodo Baggins could have appreciated as he approached Mordor and the Crack of Doom.

Somerton Park - Old Home of Newport County

Turning off the motorway, the only place to park by the ground was in the nearby side streets. Leaving our transport where we hoped we would find it safely after the match, along with other Moonrakers, we walked to Somerton Park, home of Newport County. I wasn't expecting much in salubrity from the football ground, so I wasn't disappointed on first seeing the home of the Ironsides. It resembled something that had been thrown together out of what could be found off the steelworks slagheaps and old Anderson shelters. Corrugated iron was definitely de rigueur in this part of the world and the open, windswept terracing easily accommodated the travelling red and white army from Swindon.

The atmosphere was boisterous amongst the away fans, but there was an overwhelming sense of tension in the air. The local constabulary didn't help matters when they sent in a number of their order to try and quell the mood in the adopted Town End and scuffles broke out between the roughnecks from Swindon and the police from South Wales. One poor, unfortunate, young copper found himself alone at the back of the terrace and, rather than draw his truncheon to frighten off the Wessex Yobbery, he adopted a karate stance. Within seconds and like a pack of African hunting dogs, he disappeared under a pile of flailing arms, fists and boots from the Swindon thugs.

Swindon Town FC Squad 1981 - 1982

Meanwhile, a football match had broken out on the pitch. My abiding memory of the game was that Newport had to deal with wave after wave of Swindon attacks. But, try as they might, the Reds could not find the net; Paul Rideout came closest by hitting the post. A counterattack by Newport later in the second half led to a handball from Roy Carter in the box and the subsequent penalty was put away on the 81st minute. Nine minutes later and Swindon Town had fallen through the trapdoor to Division 4.

During the excitement of the match, our group had been split up, so we made our way back to the cars in a subdued mood and waited for everyone to appear. Not surprisingly, the new, brash member of the gang failed to show and we were told that he'd been arrested. We drove in our little convoy of two cars to the main police station only to be told that he would be up before the magistrates in the morning so we would be better off going home. The older terraced houses of the city all seemed to still be burning coal and the fug they produced swirled around the garish yellow streetlamps adding to the sombre mood as we followed the signs to the M4. The unthinkable had happened and the following season would see Swindon Town being tested in the lowest division of the Football League.

It doesn't seem like that road trip was 35 years ago. It is sad, disappointing and inconceivable that the club is back in the same position in 2017 as it was in May 1982. It would be another two years before the inspirational appointment of Lou Macari as player manager saw the upturn in fortune for the club which was to culminate in its only season in the top flight of English football in 1993. What is needed now from Lee Power is another inspirational appointment and a similar investment in the team if Swindon Town is to be able to climb up the Football League and emulate the Macari/Ardiles/Hoddle era.