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A Seat in the Crowd

by Linda Harvey and Paul Windridge

220 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #00-0047; ISBN 1-55212-383-9; US$21.00, C$27.31, EUR17.80, £12.40

A Seat in the Crowd is about travelling the length and breadth of England and Europe to watch Manchester United. It is about the lifelong journey of two supporters (with the help of one or two friends along the way) who have been following their club for over 40 years each.

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about the book      about the authors      reviews      sample chapters -- excerpts from the Introduction and March 18 game against Leicester City      catalogue info

About the Book "A Seat in the Crowd" is about travelling the length and breadth of England and Europe in order to watch Manchester United. It is about the lifelong journey of two supporters (with the help of one or two friends along the way) who have been following their club for over 40 years each. A lifetime's support which has enjoyed a renaissance over the last decade due to the superb management of Alex Ferguson, who has taken the team, and consequently us too, to heights never before scaled. At the start of any season no-one can possibly know the outcome. Plenty think they do, but that is mere blind faith. It is an adventure which happens every year and these last few years have been very special to United supporters and most especially to us. Through the internet and the Manchester United mailing lists some of us have found friendship which will last the test of time. Apart from family, none of us mentioned in this book knew each other four years ago, but we are now a group of friends who have become an extended family. "A Seat in the Crowd" is just as much about these people as it is about the team on the pitch.

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About the Authors

Linda Harvey and Paul T Windridge

(That's Paul in the photo with "Fergie".)

For 3 years Linda Harvey and Paul Windridge have been writing match reports and editorial for the two main Manchester United email mailing lists and for the biggest Manchester United fans' website on the internet (www.mufc.simplenet.com). The Theatre of Dreams website is run by the two webmasters, Barry Leeming and Bill McArthur, the Red Devils list is run by Dave Arnold and Sean Hennessey and the Listserve list is run by CP Cheah. We extend our special thanks to these five stalwart Reds and many others who contribute to the mailing lists and help to keep Manchester United supporters throughout the world informed. What began, via these contacts, as simple reports of the game, developed into more complex narratives, each telling the story of a day and the experience. Gradually they began to get reactions from people all over the world who craved for more because the "reports" did two things for them. First, they represented how fans experience football - not just at the game, but the whole experience. The pre-match routines, the meetings with mates, the travelling to away grounds, the difficulties getting tickets, the people you meet along the way, the emotions you feel. And second, for those who can't attend matches, they took them into the world of being a supporter - thus enabling them to 'live the life'.

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Reviews

"the best United book I have read for years."
--Mark Longden, President of IMUSA (the Independent Manchester United Supporters Association)

If you can't get match tickets, buy this book now. It's fast-paced, fanzine-esque writing style is the next best thing to being there, giving the flavour and colour of the matchday experience in the form of two match-going Reds' uncensored view from the terraces of the 1999-2000 season. Having ducked missiles at Elland Road and traded insults with many an opposition fan, this book's not for the feint hearted. But it's great if you want a good dose of what it's like to be an integral part of the Red Army. It's a pity the tome wasn't written the year before, but nonetheless, it is a tribute to its authors.
--the official Manchester United magazine. 4 STAR RATING

"A Seat in the Crowd" goes well beyond the'...and then Giggs passed to Cole who rifled home his second in the sixty-eighth minute' dry-as-dust approach. The emphasis is placed very much on the 'match day experience', the excitement and anticipation of the fan entering the stadium, the banter and the songs between rival fans, the thrill of witnessing a special moment of skill and the Manchester rain. All captured by two authors with a fine eye for detail.
--Nick Clay

Behind the gloss and the global bastardisation of Manchester United, at the heart of this club is it's supporters - the likes of Windridge and Harvey. While both authors are committed Reds, this book will have much wider appeal for it's incisive observations on the trials and tribulations of what it means to be a matchgoing fan in this world of corporate merry-go-rounds and media medleys. "A Seat In The Crowd" is an essential read for any Manchester United supporter - and a desired read for supporters of all clubs in this ever-changing game.
--Nigel Krohn

I pulled "A Seat In The Crowd" out of my mailbox at about 3 O'clock this afternoon, it's now ten til seven, and I've only just been able to put it down for a few minutes to email you guys, it's that good, compulsive reading, tugs at every heartstring you have, a must for every Red, if you haven't got it yet, or ordered it, do so, you won't regret it. I'm a plate-maker for one of the leading printers in the world, and it's a well put together publication on good stock paper, and larger than your average paperback.
--Paul West. Kansas City.

The introduction and the Fairy Tale both had me weeping openly. My wife thinks I'm nuts! Thank you for all your wonderful work on behalf of exiled Reds like me. I know you don't just do it for us, but whenever I read your articles I think you're just writing them for me, alone. That is the essence of good communication.
--Steve Edge, Vancouver

"A Seat In The Crowd" is so good that I keep picking it up and reading bits, but I'm supposed to be packing. If I end up in France with no knickers it's your fault!
--Alison Watt

"A Seat in the Crowd" is a wonderful tale of personal observations on the '99/2000 season of Manchester United and will force United fans through to run the gauntlet of emotions. This book pulls no punches and holds nothing back. It is a work by fans for the fans. It is intelligent without being arrogant, personal without being mushy, and will make you laugh out loud. For those of us not fortunate enough to live in England, you can 'live' the match-going experience through the eyes of the authors. But, this book is also is loaded with thoughts and opinions on issues surrounding the club and it's supporters - A MUST for ALL United fans worldwide!! If you haven't yet purchased a copy of 'A Seat in the Crowd' - what are you waiting for?
--Darren Wayne Caudill, Seattle.

From the moment the book arrived I opened it up, and without a word of a lie, sat down and didn't get up again until I'd finished it. It is that good. It is superb, simple as that. Paul and Linda have worked wonders in re-creating a season unlike any other and its additional text added to their reports brought it vividly back to life for me. The authors tell it like it is - recalling a hell of a lot more than I remember! With so much coming from non Reds about United, thanks to these two for continuing to keep a fans' flag flying on how things are for the lifeblood of this great club.
--Barney, Editor of Red News the First United fanzine

This book is excellent - it brought back so many memories. At times my neck hair was on end and a tear or two filled my eyes.. A must read for all United Fans, I whole heartily recommend this superb book.
--Jonah

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Sample report

Life in the Baaaaarnyard

Premier League Sunday 20 February 2000:
Leeds United 0 Manchester United 1

We may have had a bad feeling about that last game, but the next one was different and for Manchester United, two defeats in a row have been very rare of late, more rare in fact than buses which generally come in twos or threes. In fact it had been two years since United were last beaten in successive League games so everyone was feeling slightly more optimistic for the trip to Leeds.

As I left the house it was early Sunday morning, the sun was shining, the overnight frost still covered the ground, but it was unseasonably warm. My route was towards the M1 through the local countryside and then to pick up Pat J just north of Nottingham. It was a pleasant run - the roads were empty and the light covering of frost was gradually melting as the sun became stronger. It was only the thought of a trip to the bastion of friendliness that is Elland Road that kept me from thinking I might have been on my way to the airport setting off for foreign climes. Not that Leeds isn't foreign of course! It had also been too early for the Sunday paper to have been delivered so I was completely unaware of the Beckham fiasco - as was Pat.

Linda was experiencing something completely different:
This was to become a day to be savoured and remembered for always. Not simply because we beat the sheep, but because for the first time in living memory the son-and-heir actually treated me to a football game! He bought the tickets and even acted as chauffeur. His generosity didn't quite stretch to paying for my hot dog as well, but as everyone knows, there's no such thing as a free lunch! So as we headed off up the M62 in brilliant sunshine I had a grin on my face and (unlike last Saturday) actually felt quite positive. I'd been picked up in Stockport at 9am and by 9.45am we were already parking up the car, next to the cemetery, about 10 minutes walk away from the ground, and walked up the hill pretending to be Leeds fans. We've always found that the safest thing to do in these circumstances is to get there early and hope to sneak into the ground before the locals have got themselves out of bed.

Meanwhile things weren't quite going to plan with our other reporter:
Everything seemed to be progressing well until we got stuck in traffic with the ground in view, but when we phoned the "son-and-heir" to give us a clue where we should park, he was most unhelpful! He suggested that we'd left it a bit late and everywhere would be full by now and anyway they'd been "in the ground for bloody hours!" Time for a spot of action then as we barged our way through the cars going nowhere around the roundabout and sped away back from whence we came. We eventually parked up with less than half an hour before kick off and we still had a twenty minute walk back to the ground!

Fergie had said, "you think of the powder keg they are going into" referring to us, and he was right. As we approached the ground from under the railway bridge we could see line upon line of police keeping the animals at bay. But we were still in amongst them and doing our best to be inconspicuous whilst chatting about sheep and .......well, sheep really! Trouble was, we then had to get through the cordon. So we donned our stealth suits, activated the cloaking device and slipped through unnoticed. Only the frisking to go and we were in!

My seat was in the lower tier and to the left - a little closer than necessary to our friends who shop in Woolworths and as I got there the PA was whipping them into a frenzy with the Leeds anthem while we sang "Champions of Europe". They didn't like that at all and neither did they like the Cantona songs, so they resorted to their aeroplanes early on - an all too predictable response. The teams came out and United looked as though this was going to be a serious game. Fergie had obviously given them a blast from his hairdrier and reminded them about team spirit as if they needed reminding - well maybe they did, after the dropping of Becks for whatever reason. Anyway it was there in abundance right the way through and apart from Nev on the right, who obviously missed his bessie mate, I think this formation actually worked in our favour. What was also obvious was that both the ref and especially his linesman to our left were sporting white shirts under their black ones, as the amount of free kicks given on the edge of our area was too much of a coincidence.

The game was moving on, but getting nowhere apart from the free kicks which gave Harte a chance to demonstrate his skill. Off the pitch things were also hotting up with some serious baaanter and one rather large sheep worrier was becoming as animated as the person stood in front of me. Now I'd looked at this person stood on the next row down and it struck me that his coat was very similar to the Good Doctor's, but from the back, his head was definitely different, unless the Doctor had suffered a severe haircut in the most recent past. And then there came an outburst of bile which tipped the scales and I knew: "f**k off you fat Yorkshire bastard" he spat. It was the Doctor after all!! And at that moment he turned, saw me and slapped me one - yes that's Doctor Jekyll alright!!

There was more trouble at the other end as the locals vented their frustration that their collective bargaining with the ref had brought no tangible results and took it out on our Jaap!! I ask you: "Jaap Stam takes it up the arse" oh yeah - you and who's army?!! We countered with "your sheep take it up the arse" and "what's it like to shag a sheep?" to which there was a reaction from our left with one particular individual protesting his innocence and trying to make out he'd never even considered the idea. An admission of guilt if ever there was one! Despite our control of the game, there were not that many chances in for either side and we went in at half-time at 0-0.

Half-time brought a very entertaining penalty shoot-out. Two lads had been plucked from the crowd by two blonde bimbos in sun glasses and very tight trousers. They had to perform (steady!) the simple task of hitting a massive blow-up football which filled a third of the goal. There was much hilarity as each kept missing the unmissable and even their mates booed as they got the prize anyway!

There were no changes at the start of the second half (with Yorke already off replaced by Sheringham earlier on) and Bozzy down at our end to a rousing welcome. The game started at a hell of a pace and a few minutes in the two blokes next to me were just discussing the betting odds when one of them said he'd got Kewell down to score the first goal. He was showing his mate the betting slip when Scholesy played one of the few long balls in the whole game up to Andy who flicked it on with his head, turned and flicked it again over Radebe's head and he was away bearing down on goal. With Martyn retreating in no man's land, and while Radebe was tugging and pushing, Andy kept his feet and lobbed past the keeper and into the corner of the net. The celebrations in our end were immense as Dr Jekyll disappeared under a pile of bodies only to appear briefly in order to drag me down with him while screaming in my face. Mass delirium, mass chanting of "Andy Cole" and much sheep baiting followed, while the remnants of a torn pale green betting slip drifted away in the breeze.

Over to our left they hadn't taken the latest development very well at all. Our fat friend had gone purple with rage while down on the front row a particularly distasteful character wearing one of those stupid, many pronged, court jester type hats was looking straight over in my direction. With his index finger outstretched and pointing at his throat he drew a line across and then repeated it again and again very slowly while I stood there grinning over in his direction and waving. You can't take anyone seriously who's wearing one of those stupid hats, can you?

The main effect of the goal seemed to be that it woke up the Leeds players. From then on, it was a much better game with both sides having some good chances. We almost got another a few minutes later when Keane hit the post after a deflection, then Bosnich had to make another fine save and Leeds hit the crossbar twice and the post once. Despite their resurgence and propensity for woodwork, we never seriously looked as if we were going to lose. We were having a relaxed sing-song in our end and all the old favourites were heard. The various Cantona songs given another airing, but the main event of the afternoon was the arrival of a new chant and at long last, one for Gary Neville - "Gary Neville is a Red, is a Red, is a Red. Gary Neville is a Red, he hates Scousers" (to the tune of London Bridge is Falling Down).

We also amused ourselves with some Bowyer baiting with choruses of "Bowyer's going down" and "Bowyer for Strangeways" when right on cue he gives us even more reason to take the piss. Wilcox had the ball over to our right, Nev slipped, Wilcox shot, Bozzy could only parry out to Smith who slammed it against the post. The ball rebounded to the feet of Bowyer with Bozzy in the back of the net and the whole defence missing. He could have trapped it, turned around and farted it into the net, he had that much time, but instead he ballooned it over the top from three yards. Deep joy as the sheep collapsed into bleating heaps and we pissed ourselves and sang, "Bowyer for England."

Soon after, the whistle blew and the sheep slunk away back to their hovels. Gary Neville carried out his usual orgasmic celebrations in front of us as we sang a rousing chorus of the "Red Flag". I missed Becks, thinking of how he and Gary were the only players who came over to us last Saturday at the end of the Geordie game. A chorus of "we won the Football League again, this time at Elland Road" started up, which proved impossible not to join in with, albeit reluctantly for us superstitious types. The sheep departed - well those who hadn't already gone did, as we batted an inflatable flossie around above our heads. Even my friend with the hat didn't bother to look back! They left without a murmur apart from the odd shirt kissing, but with the ground all but empty a father and son were making their way out of the home section high up and over to our right. Just as they reached the stairwell, the lad, who was probably only 7 or 8, turned around and lifted his jacket to reveal the red shirt embellished with a white number 7. A huge cheer went up from 3,000 Reds as the lad turned to face his public, raised his arms and went down the stairs with his proud father's arm around his shoulder. Such class from one so young.

We were kept inside for around fifteen minutes but those nice people at Leeds TV replayed the highlights on the big screen for us - nice touch. Eventually the stewards let us out into the open again. As the crowds moved up the ramp and we were about to follow, they all came back down again having been sent packing by the line of coppers at the top. Everyone was then instructed to go out the opposite way, but we took no notice and with Pete and Hal leading the way, 7 of us walked unhindered past the thin blue line and into the sheep pen.

The walk back to the cars was mostly uneventful as we tried to blend in once again, or at least we thought we had blended in until I overheard a phone conversation from behind us. We had just passed a father and son when his phone rang and the talk was of disappointment that there was no violence even though they were walking in amongst "loads of Man Ewe." How they hell did they know? It couldn't have been the ear splitting grins we wore could it? Pat and I were walking on our own at this time as the others were on the opposite side of the road, as we passed yet another bunch of lads who were talking about the same thing, but by this time we had decided to try and look as miserable as possible to avoid any possible problems!

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