Day 21 of the WSC advent calendar and we’re looking at Christmas football. These days it is something to look forward to but, in issue 131, January 1998, Olly Wicken‘s grandad claimed that this wasn’t always the case
I went to my first Christmas game in 1933, at the age of twelve. I’ll never forget it. It was a cold and bright Christmas Day morning (Christmas Day fixtures were the norm in those days). My Christmas stocking was still hanging unopened over the hearth when my father wrapped me up in my muffler, cap and overcoat and walked me along frosty pavements to the ground. Once inside, I was passed over the heads of the crowd down to the front of the terrace. From there I saw the local derby end in a five-all draw. Our inside-left – I forget his name now – scored all five. Then, on Boxing Day afternoon, my father took me to the return match across town, which we won by the odd goal in thirteen, making the aggregate score twelve-eleven over the two days. It was typical of Christmas fixtures back then. Both games were shit.
Read more…