Sleeping with the enemy (Part Two)
11/03/03 | by Ivan Murfin

Wednesday, November 27, 2002 was the turning point: Brighton at home. All the right reasons to go were there: a guaranteed Forest win, ticket prices at £5, and Derby were beginning to languish. So, living with two Derby employees (fans?) and a daughter, Lauren, who was fast becoming passionate with regards her following of the Prideless pussies, it was time to hit back. Time to stick the boot in, metaphorically speaking.

It didn’t take long to feel at home, the pure exhilaration, squeezing across Trent Bridge, carefully as not fall into the path of a car (as I witnessed some weeks later when a woman in a small motor clipped a Forest fan walking along the edge of the pavement. She removed her wing mirror in the process, he was almost oblivious, just wanting to get to the ground).

The thing that struck about my earlier visit to Prideless Park was the lack of atmosphere. The crowds outside did not give any rise to feelings of excitement or anticipation. It could easily have been a crowd outside a supermarket or visiting some stately home - a very strange feeling before a football match.

Compare that with the atmosphere outside the CG and you then realise the difference: the singing, the banter, even the Dibbles on horseback - you knew you were going to a football match.

The £5 ticket had swollen the gate against Brighton, something like 29,000 in the end, and we had been allocated tickets in the Lower Bridgford. Thing was, either we got something wrong or the staff that night had. We stood in queues only to hear the roar of the crowd as the teams ran out on to the pitch. Not a happy thought, first game for about eight years and here I was going to miss it.

We found our seats eventually, after Nathan my son had decided he needed to take a leak, adding a few more minutes of frustration... “You should have gone before we left”!

Our backsides had merely touched our seats only for us to jump up like a knee jerk reaction to celebrate as Marlon stuck in the first goal.

Forest went onto to command the fist half impressively, but I have to concede a lot of my time was also spent admiring the view and taking in the atmosphere. The Brighton fans had done their team proud both in numbers and support and to be fair never failed to respond to the Forest chants. Even joining in with their somewhat strange version of the Mexican wave that travelled around the ground after originating in the A block.

Half-time brings its own entertainment. Not from the PA system announcements, which I feel needs improvement at Forest, but from the crowd. The same people are still there as they were 10, 20, 30 years ago. Not physically the same but the same ideals and mentality, the jokes, the banter. One fan behind us took £20 off his mate for the customary half-time pie, but did not leave until he had wound his mate up by asking all and sundry if they too wanted pies or chips or anything else he could spend the money on.

The look of worry on his mate's face gave away the fact that he really would not have been surprised if he did come back with a box of food as if it were a lunch time run at the factory.

I’m sure it was the same joker who for the best part of the first half pulled the Brighton keeper to pieces, “Dogdy Keeper” and the like. Suddenly the keeper pulled off a brilliant save, turning a DJ effort around the post and the joker behind suddenly became the Brighton keeper’s biggest fan. Perhaps only funny if your there to hear it, but the point is it’s the atmosphere that sometimes creates the game.

Brighton as we all know created a fight back and gave all the Trickies a few anxious minutes before the end. My anxiety came from the fact that I had been texting my daughter Lauren the score as the match transpired, now I was sweating that I would end up with the proverbial egg-on-face syndrome.

Thankfully that didn't happen and thus began a series of telephone texts and calls to lay claim to the fact that now Forest were on the up.

It was now really going to be a divided household and from the Reds point of view life was sweet...