Unexpected rivalries 5: Newcastle Utd and Nottingham Forest

2045353672_ca499b3749_z
Image available under Creative Commons © Glen Bowman

I can pinpoint, to the day, when I first became aware of the animosity between my own club, Newcastle Utd, and Nottingham Forest: 16th May 1998. Up until then, I’d been relatively ambivalent about the Reds. If anything, I’d been inclined to look on them kindly for their part in what remains the single most enjoyable day I’ve ever experienced as a Newcastle supporter, one year earlier, when a 5-0 victory over the already demoted East Midlanders secured us the runners-up spot in the Premier League with the reward of a Champions League place at the same time as results condemned both Sunderland and Middlesbrough to relegation. Having started university in the city in the autumn of 1997, I imagined that passing interest in Forest might develop into something more partisan in much the same way that in Fever Pitch Nick Hornby recounts his flirtation with Cambridge Utd while a student there.

So, why 16th May 1998, then? Well, it was the day Newcastle took on Arsenal in the FA Cup Final, our first appearance at Wembley since a 2-1 League Cup defeat to Man City in 1976. My fellow Black & White & Read All Over author Paul and I had somehow managed to secure ourselves tickets via someone with Everton connections, at a cost of £80 each – a hefty sum back then, and even more eyewatering for a couple of permaskint students.

We caught the train down to London on what was a gorgeous early summer day, soaked up the pre-match atmosphere and excitement, found ourselves sitting within spitting distance of Angus Deayton and South African rugby captain Francois Pienaar, enjoyed Spandau Ballet’s Tony Hadley (a Gunners fan) being on ‘Abide with Me’ duty – and then watched on in dismay as Arsene Wenger’s men overpowered us with all the ruthless efficiency you’d expect of a side whose midfield boasted Patrick Vieira and Emmanuel Petit in their majestic prime. Alan Shearer may have hit the post and Nikos Dabizas the bar, but the outcome was never in doubt and they duly clinched the double with ease.

We were among the numb and dazed black and whites who applauded the Gunners’ achievement and who, filtering out of the ground, smiled as fellow Geordies urged the bizarrely glum-faced opposition supporters to cheer up. Lagers were purchased for the journey home – which was when the realisation sank in: two years after conceding that 12-point lead at the top of the Premier League, we’d blown it again in spectacular fashion. When would the opportunity for glory come around again? (Little were we to know we’d be back at Wembley for the FA Cup Final the following season, again side by side, again at exorbitant expense – and again to witness a defeat, this time by a Man Utd side en route for the treble…)

So it was that we arrived back into Nottingham utterly despondent. Off the train and onto a bus. And it was at this precise moment that an ageing local, eyeballing our shirts with disgust, decided it was appropriate to vent 24 years of accumulated spleen at us.

* * * * *

It’s the spring of 1974, and we’ve been paired with Forest in the quarter-finals of the FA Cup. Our glory years are fading gradually into the distance, but theirs are yet to come and, at home to a side from the second tier, progress to the semi-final looks a safe bet. Not so. With nearly 60 minutes on the clock, we find ourselves 3-1 and a man down. A number of incensed home supporters decide they can contain themselves no longer and, with flares flapping, stream onto the St James’ Park turf.

The result was absolute chaos, with more than 50 people ultimately arrested or hospitalised. The referee had little option but to take the players off for their safety – and even then Forest’s Dave Serella was clocked in the face. When the game was somehow able to resume eight minutes later, we were a side transformed – as were Forest, into trembling wrecks. We roared back to level, before Bobby Moncur struck a last-minute winner from a Supermac nod-down, the linesman apparently fearful of flagging for the obvious offside.

The result may not have stood, the FA belatedly acknowledging Forest’s grievance and insisting on a replay at Goodison Park, but we won that (at the second attempt) and wound up in the final – where, needless to say, we (and the gobby Supermac in particular) suffered a humbling 3-0 defeat to Kevin Keegan’s Liverpool.

And now here Paul and I were, 24 years later, dejectedly returning from the club’s first FA Cup Final appearance since that similarly disappointing occasion, being harangued by someone who evidently still harboured a bitter grudge against anyone in black and white for cheating his beloved Forest out of a semi-final spot. Let’s put this into context: neither of us was born in 1974, and yet it seemed to be assumed that we were personally culpable in this horrendous miscarriage of justice, that we had personally invaded the pitch that day and wrestled the chance of glory from the hands of those in red. There can have been few situations in history more deserving of the simple riposte we gave: “Fuck off“.

And yet, as was to become clear to me, when it comes to this particular inter-club rivalry, it’s not just the Forest fans who hold long-term grudges.

* * * * *

My first Newcastle v Forest game took place at the City Ground in March 1999. In the wake of that 1997 relegation, our hosts had returned to the top flight at the first time of asking, but were once again deep in trouble. We emerged 2-1 winners courtesy of Dietmar Hamann’s long-range thunderbolt, and while there was no pitch invasion, the game itself wasn’t short on controversy, Forest once again feeling themselves to have been the victims of injustice.

The thing I remember most clearly about the match, though, is a curious chant that went up from those in the away end several times over the course of the evening. While not exactly a regular at St James’ Park, I’d been to enough games to be surprised never to have heard it before. It was simple, just one word repeated over and over again, and with a considerable amount of gusto and venom: “Scabs“. Intrigued, I looked it up and was fascinated by what I discovered.

* * * * *

Coals to Newcastle“: an idiomatic expression that underlines how inextricably linked the North East is with mining. Much the same is true of the region’s biggest football club. The legendary Jackie Milburn, hero of our FA Cup-winning exploits in the 1950s, was born in the pit town of Ashington and worked down the mines as a fitter even when turning out for the club during the war years. Like the Pitmen Painters, he and others like him seized the opportunity afforded to them during their time above ground to express themselves as best they could, the only difference being that their canvas was the muddied turf of St James’ Park. A more recent saviour, Sir John Hall, may be a self-made millionaire but he too comes from humble roots, the son of a miner.

By 1984, the industry was in crisis. The Miners’ Strike had brought disaffected mineworkers, fearful of imminent pit closures and goaded on by the NUM’s left-wing firebrand Arthur Scargill, into direct head-on confrontation with Margaret Thatcher, hell-bent on destroying the unions. (Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s ‘Two Tribes’ may have been written about the Cold War a year earlier, but it could just as easily have been about the Miners’ Strike.) What isn’t in dispute is that she succeeded in vanquishing what she famously branded the enemy within, but how and why that victory was achieved remains contentious to this day.

Some claim it was the Sun (and others) wot won it, and certainly the mainstream media, broadly sympathetic to Thatcher, were instrumental in moulding public perceptions. But more significant was the Tory government’s introduction of a raft of anti-union laws – and, of those, the most critical was that which decreed that unions were now legally obliged to ballot members on strike action. It was this law that Scargill chose to flout, instead allowing the various regions to determine their own participation in a nationwide strike.

It’s unclear whether this decision was taken under pressure from particular factions of miners who wanted a speedy resolution, or out of concern that some regions might block the right of others to strike, or simply because Scargill was too arrogant to deem a national ballot necessary. Whatever the reason, though, the fact that proper legally binding procedures hadn’t been adhered to gave an excuse to opt out to those who wanted to do so.

Support for a national strike was strong in the North East as well as in Yorkshire, South Wales, Scotland and Kent – all areas where jobs were most at risk. However, it was a somewhat different story in the East Midlands, where the mines boasted both large reserves of coal and modern equipment, and were therefore least threatened with closure. Miners in Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire and Leicestershire refused to recognise the strike, ostensibly on the grounds that no ballot had taken place, and as a result earned the derogatory label “scabs“, eventually forming their own splinter group the Union of Democratic Mineworkers. As Billy Bragg once sang, “There is power in a union” – the emphasis on the singular. With the miners fractured and fighting among themselves, Thatcher had triumphed, the strike only limping on until March 1985. The Iron Lady was as good as her word: “not for turning“.

Former miners in the East Midlands, who view the term “scabs” as being like grafitti on walls – “it is obscene and wants removing, it needs washing away” – have since sought to defend and justify their actions. They point to Scargill’s flouting of the law and the intimidatory, coercive tactics of the NUM, but also claim that, in the face of horrendous hardship, refusing to strike and give up entitlements was a “sensible“, pragmatic decision. That may indeed be the case, but it wasn’t as though all those miners (and their families) in other regions weren’t suffering extreme hardship themselves – a friend of mine whose dad was a Northumberland miner at the time has childhood recollections of a year spent eating nothing but baked beans.

It might be going a bit far to brand the Nottinghamshire miners who formed the UDM as class traitors who helped Thatcher’s government to defeat the strike, or to describe with gleeful relish their comeuppance when they were themselves betrayed, but, despite protestations to the contrary, there does still seem to be a whiff of “I’m alright, Jack” about it all. (Not that I’m necessarily judging – after all, how many of us, put in the same stressful and impoverished situation, could honestly say we’d unflinchingly continue to maintain a principled stance for the benefit of others?) Appropriate, really, that individualistic self-concern and disregard for fellow feeling – values cherished under Thatcherism – should have condemned the Miners’ Strike to failure.

* * * * *

Whole communities were destroyed as a direct result of the pit closures the Miners’ Strike failed to prevent. The North East’s pits may have been destined for closure anyway, but there seems little doubt that the Nottinghamshire miners’ refusal to back the strike helped to accelerate the process. 170,000 mineworkers lost their jobs in the period between 1984 and 1997, many of them in the North East, and one of the headline findings of the most recent census is that there are now more people who describe themselves as working in the mining industry in Kensington and Chelsea than in Gateshead. As Harry Pearson ruefully observes in The Far Corner, mining is now a heritage industry, and mines are visitor attractions, whether at Beamish or in an enthusiast’s back garden.

In the circumstances, then, I think it’s understandable that there should have been considerable animosity felt by those in the North East (and other mining-dependent regions) towards those in the East Midlands who opted not to stand in solidarity with them. What’s remarkable, though, is that that raw sentiment doesn’t appear to have subsided, more than 25 years since the strike ended.

Football, still an undeniably working-class sport in the mid-1980s, has undergone an extraordinary transformation over the past couple of decades. The players are millionaires rather than mineworkers by day, and there has been a similar revolution among football spectators, who the Hillsborough Independent Panel Report revealed were perceived, like the striking miners, as a feral and dangerous mob as recently as 1989. Since then a gentrification or middle-class-ification has taken place, with seating replacing standing and prawn sandwiches replacing pies. (In this respect, the aforementioned Fever Pitch is fascinating documentary evidence from the midst of the seachange.) An illuminating analogy can be drawn between football and Northumberlandia, appropriately enough: an open-cast mine transformed into an enormous sculpture of a reclining nude by a world-renowned landscape architect – or, to put it another way, a post-industrial, working-class landscape given a veneer of respectability by the imposition of middle-class cultural values and tastes.

And yet, despite the radical changes that have taken place within football, the sport remains estranged but not quite divorced from its working-class roots. That history is ingrained and runs deep, even if some of those Newcastle fans chanting “Scabs” at their Forest counterparts are spotty teenagers who are only echoing what they’ve heard from others, who bandy it about like any other term of schoolyard abuse and who wouldn’t know who Arthur Scargill was if he handed them his CV. Regardless of what the East Midlands’ ex-miners might hope, it seems that the grafitti just won’t wash away.

* * * * *

The most recent Newcastle v Forest match that I’ve been to, in October 2009, took place in a truly poisonous atmosphere. Our hosts revelled in our Championship status, reminding us at every opportunity that we were no longer a big club and rubbing salt into the wound by winning the game 1-0. Sure enough, though, chants of “Scabs” formed an integral part of the away end’s response.

Revenge was sweet, a 2-0 victory at St James’ the following March all but clinching an immediate return to the Premier League and condemning Forest to yet another play-off failure and further campaigns in the second tier. Now, though, with my club struggling and the Reds upwardly mobile under Sean O’Driscoll and new ownership, there’s every chance we’ll be clashing once again in the near future.

Both sets of supporters often stand accused of living in the past – not unjustly so, when you consider the fixations with events that took place in 1974 and then a decade later. Newcastle v Forest seems forever destined to be a rivalry spiced with something more than just the present day, or even football history.

But then perhaps it’s obvious there’d be a mutual dislike. After all, Forest’s closest rivals just across the Trent are a bunch clad in black and white with the nickname of the Magpies…

is the co-founder and co-author of Newcastle United blog Black & White & Read All Over. Since its inception in 2004, he's never been short of things to write about, be they messiahs returning, messiahs walking out, expletive-riddled press conferences or team-mates indulging in fisticuffs. He is the slightly shameful owner of a cardboard coathanger with Robert Lee's head on it, and is currently in search of a new lucky pub for watching televised games. Perhaps a new lucky team would be an easier option.

Comment With Facebook

comments

10 Comments on "Unexpected rivalries 5: Newcastle Utd and Nottingham Forest"

  1. Frank Heaven says:

    Interesting bit of history about the 1974 cup tie. Not unreasonable of Forest to bear a grudge.

    I think the scabs chant is more common when Yorkshire clubs are involved. It gets a mention in David Peace’s novel about the miners strike, GB84, during a match between Sheffield Wednesday and Forest.

    I wonder what Cloughie, a good socialist, made of it all.

  2. Reddave says:

    The 1974 cup tie will never be forggotten by any Forest fan over a certain age. I was extremely upset witht the Geordies having spent 3 years from 69 to 72 at uni in the town and having it rubbed in so often how passionate and fair minded Geordie supporters were.

    So whilst not foggotten, I forgave it many years ago and I retain a soft spot for the Toon and its army. As for the Scabs, unfortunately anytime that any Yorkshire club play Forest, there will be a guaranteed chorus of ‘Scabs’ answered by ‘you’ll never work again’ by the home fans….boith really stupid….particularly when sung by Hull City supporters……Hull really well known as a centre of mining excellence!

  3. Reddave says:

    ps…I can spell correctly; just really cold at work today and fingers and brain aren’t connecting properly…

  4. Andy T says:

    Interesting and well written piece. Shame about the reference to our closest rivals being Notts Clownty though. Most Forest fans want them to do well (though the feeling isn’t mutual). It’s Derby that we love to hate.

    I was born in 75 so although I hear the tales of that infamous game I’m not going to start getting riled by things that happened before I was born. My favourite memories of Newcastle are Woany’s cracking FA Cup goal for Forest and his goal that stopped the Toon winning the Premier League in 96. Good times.

  5. Nick H says:

    I was at that infamous game in 1974, as a 16 year old on a trip with my U16′ s manager. We went into a pub in Newcastle before the game wih our red scarves on and the black and white mass went quiet, but soon we were overwhelmed with offers of a ‘glass of brun’ and whilst it was difficutl to understand the dialect, we were made quite welcome as I recall.

    The match was brilliant for us up to the invasion, I remeber George Lyall scoring a pen. We left early after the resstart and heard the cheers of goasl going in on the way back to the car. Pity we didnt get the replay at the CG, we mighthave won – but doubt we would have done any better against Liverpool!

    It is a bit embarrasing about the Notts miners forming the UDM – their leader was recently found guilty for embezzlement I think? If they had stcuk together it might have finished Thatcher – who knows – I know one thiing though, Arthur was right! Pity Cloughy wasnt able to sort it out with one foot in the NE and one in the E Mids!

    We have played the Geordies more recently of course,League cup last season – we nearly won!
    Long live friendly rivalry!

  6. sam koop says:

    I was at the replayed match in 74 as a forest fan and I am still a season ticket holder. I also was on strike. Brian Clough gave free tickets to striking miners in Nottingham. Its still seems strange to me that the cry “If you still hate geordies, clap your hands” still is sung when we meet. the Cotgrave colliery in Nottingham was established in the early 1960s with large numbers of miners & their families being relocated from other mining areas in England, especially the North East, I hear the welfare was a place for a good ” arguement” after the 74 cup tie…

  7. Tim says:

    Good piece, thoughtful and fair minded.

    What you may not know is what a nasty place St James Park was for visitors during the 70′s. No one was very surprised at the violent invasion of the pitch, including the media who by and large looked the other way. The narrative had wor Jackie, Charlton brothers, lovable Geordies and Likely Lads, great history, blah. Forest got little sympathy for being thugged out of the competition.

    Not one word of apology or regret was ever issued from the club or its supporters so memories endure. I confess I’ve celebrated every Newcastle failure ever since.

  8. Ben says:

    Thanks for all the comments – good to see the piece has sparked some healthy debate (and brought back some memories!). Just to respond on a few points:

    Gary, you’re right that my feelings towards Forest have been coloured by personal experience (and particularly by that bus trip post-FA Cup Final) – undeniably true, but as I also hope to have made clear this wasn’t just one lone Forest fan with a grudge. Take Tim’s comment, for instance!

    Tim, by that I don’t mean that the grudge isn’t perhaps justified – certainly being aggrieved at events at the time was entirely justifiable. If a similar incident happened these days, the club would be booted out of the competition and probably banned from entering for a season or two. (It’s worth noting that we were punished to a degree, by having to play all of our cup games away from home the following season.) St James’ Park wasn’t a particularly savoury place in the 1970s (though it certainly wasn’t alone in that respect), and the lack of an apology or admission of responsibility from the club is poor form. So take this as an apology!

    In focusing on the rivalry between Newcastle and Forest, I didn’t mean to imply that no other clubs’ fans shout “Scabs” at Forest, or that this is either club’s main rivalry – of course it isn’t. As the title of this series implies, it explores unexpected rivalries – hence Newcastle v Sunderland and Forest v Derby won’t be featuring any time soon.

    Which brings me onto that last paragraph, which seems to have upset a few. The issue is the word “closest” – I meant it in the genuine geographical sense, rather than as a synonym for “most fierce”. During my time in Nottingham the general lack of animosity between Forest and County fans always struck me as quite odd and surprising – that said, it would probably change if the two clubs spent more time in the same division as each other.

    And finally, Gary, back to your aside about Jenas and Perch. I’d suggest we actually did better out of both deals – Jenas was a tremendous player for us for a while and when he went off the boil we sold him to Spurs for a profit, while Perch seems to have morphed from a solid Championship chugger into a surprisingly accomplished player, particularly in the tackle. Not something any Forest fan I’ve spoken to could have foreseen!

  9. Steve says:

    I have to admit this isn’t a rivalry I have really been aware of, even as a Forest fan. I know about the 1974 game but it was before my time. My only real thoughts about Newcastle centre around Stuart Pearce’s testimonial when Keegan brought a full strength side to the CG and the United fans filled the away end. It was a really good atmosphere and Keegan’s style of football and commitment to a friendly game were applauded by all. Tino Asprilla even did a lap of honour at the end to a standing ovation from Forest fans.
    The scab stuff is closer to home for me, although I associate it more with the Yorkshire clubs to be honest. I was only a kid during the miner’s strike but I have personal history with it that doesn’t warrant explanation here. For me Scargill was a self centred politician looking out for himself and just as repulsive as Thatcher. I have no sympathy for either of them but plenty for the miners of both the North and the Midlands. I don’t think the scab thing does anyone any favours but I suppose I can understand it.
    Finally on Perch, I remember chatting to Colin Barrett when Perch was a largely unappreciated figure at Forest and he always rated him. Either way he came across as a decent lad who always did his best, I’m glad he’s made his mark at Newcastle.
    A very good piece Ben that I enjoyed reading.

  10. Tim says:

    Thanks for the response. You are a proper football bloke and a credit to your club.

    Won’t be looking for Toon disasters after this.

    Good luck with the blog. It’s what keeping the faith is all about, love your own, respect the rest.

Got something to say? Fill your boots.