A dark tale of foul misdeeds on the Yorkshire moors to rival Charlotte Bronte herself? Or was that Emley Bronte? Who cares? Just remember the next time you venture beyond Huddersfield, there's no swearing allowed...
EMLEY 3 BARROW 0 UniBond League Premier Division 16 November 1996 by Michael Gibson and Graham Murphy
If there's one thing I can't stand about the UniBond, it's the away game at Emley. It's got nothing to do with the fact that we always lose when we play there. It's because to get there I have to suffer the worst bus journey in the world, and I hate spending all afternoon miles away from the nearest outpost of civilisation. The best way to get to the ground in time for the kick-off is, of course, to arrive at one of said outposts (in this case Wakefield) with loads of time to spare. So with this thought in mind, I got myself to Kings Cross station just before 10am. On the departure board it said '10.10 Leeds calling at every destination - speaks Mastercard.' And I thought hasn't the privatisation of the country's railways gone a teeny weeny bit too far? It's also not very helpful if you want to know whether the 10.10 to Leeds stops at Wakefield. It did. Two hours later I was in the centre of the rhubarb triangle of Yorkshire. Not a lot of people know that. Not that I got there in two hours, but that Wakefield is located at the centre of the main rhubarb producing area of the country. I went outside the station to find the bus for Emley. Fortunately, it turned up after just a few minutes. If I'd missed that one, I would have missed the kick off. "Return to Emley, please," I asked the driver as I boarded the bus. "Hmph!" he replied. I didn't know if that was Yorkshire for 'yes' or 'no'. So I repeated my question. "Yer deaf or summat? I just told you! We don't do returns!" I presented him with a £1 coin and then he got the hump all over again because I didn't have the right change. Tosser! So I was in Emley two hours before the kick-off, well before any other Barrow supporter. As you may know, Emley is just a television transmitter, the football ground, two pubs and a post office stuck on the highest point of the Yorkshire moors between Wakefield and Huddersfield. That's it. Nothing else. Zilch. It's not the most stimulating place to spend a Saturday afternoon. Or any other afternoon come to that. And the game didn't do much to liven it up, either. Well, apart from one incident, that is. The Barrow supporters behind the goal had been singing their hearts out for the lads for the first half hour of the game. All the old favourites had been chanted, including the twenty minute version of 'Owen Brown's Blue and White Army.' This must have confused quite a few people because it was an away game and Barrow were playing in green and white. Never mind. Then the police went over. The full might of the Yorkshire Constabulary. The tannoy crackled into life. "There's been a complaint. Would the Barrow supporters behind the Emley goal please desist from using foul and abusive language. Its upsetting quite a few people and there's no need for it." The announcer's voice shook a little, betraying his nerves. Perhaps he thought someone might come up and bop him on the nose. "So c'mon lads, play the game. Support your team, but please don't use any bad language. Anyone who does will be ejected from the ground." It hadn't been a good game. Barrow were already one goal down in what was a poor match. The way it was going there'd be a queue of people halfway round the ground waiting to be ejected. And there hadn't really been any bad language. Just the usual chants favoured by those who live at the back of Holker St. And one song which used a word that rhymed with plucking. It was pretty mild stuff compared to the colourful expletives being used by the players of both sides that were clearly audible all round the ground. A Barrow fan rushed up to us. "The police have been into the Barrow supporters behind the goal," he told us, somewhat breathlessly. "What did they say?" we enquired. "They asked if they'd been using any obscenities. So the Barrow fans told the police to obscenity off. Then the police asked them if anyone had been using swear words." "What happened then?" "The Barrow fans asked what if they had. "What did the policeman say?" "ƒ*¢# off!" The policemen took up positions on either side of the Barrow fans. Then the chanting started again. "We don't use swear words la-la-la-la... You're so poo you're unbelievable... Spit on the Emley, spit on the Emley tonight... The referee's a banker." Even though they were Yorkshiremen, the policemen smiled. And did nothing about the continual torrent of obscenities being exchanged by the 22 men on the pitch. We lost 3-0. Fused together from 'Awaydays Up North' in issue 030 (April 1997) and 'Flippin' 'eck, Emley' in issue 029 (January 1997).