I felt a bit like a wedding crasher. You know those chaps who sniff out a free party, with free drink and free women revelling on other people’s joy without a care in the world. That was me. I was standing by the side of the pitch in a brand new stadium, the sun bathing the whole arena and 16,000 fans saluting heroes from the past as they walked onto the pitch. And I knew very little of them.
That makes me sound really ungrateful but it could not be further from the truth. I knew the pain, despair, disappointment and anger Brighton & Hove Albion fans had experienced in the past two decades whilst they tried to find their way home. I had been at one of the last games at the Goldstone. A great old fashion ground with real character, assigned to the stadium graveyard in the sky long before its time to make way for a nameless DIY superstore thanks to the greedy owners at the time. Because people need to have these DIY superstores on their doorstep right? Continue reading