WEST HAM v LEICESTER

 Monday 23rd August

8pm kick off

London Stadium

West Ham 4 Leicester 1

I'd never been to The Olympic Stadium before and I still insist in calling it that. It's now called The London Stadium. Sign in was at 3pm and I was to go to bridge 2 and then go down a ramp that would lead me into the sign in area.

Upon arrival on the way from Westfield Shopping Centre I caught the eye of another chap dressed as a penguin. His name was Lennox and I explained that I'd never been to The London Stadium before. Lennox was a chatty chap and proceeded to give everyone directions upon our long walk. I felt like I was in safe hands upon meeting this Lennox chap. He told me how he was a supervisor and that he was used to this stadium. Lennox and me were only wearing our ties, white shirts, black trousers and black jackets yet still people kept coming up to us both asking for directions. Stratford baffles me so it was a good job Lennox was able to tell them. 

On Bridge 2 the sign in area. I had to find my name card. It was quite easy as everything is in first names. I found mine easily after realising this but it did still take me a couple of minutes to work it out.

I took my little credit card sized name card and off I went to the next queue. They scanned my card and proceeded to give me a slip of paper with the many photocopied "Spare" on it. It bought back memories that did. The Wembley wind tunnel when I had to wait in the pouring rain and I was freezing cold because the previous day was a heatwave. Well, on this day it was okay and I didn't mind being a spare and just hanging about because hanging about is why I got into stewarding after all.  

I was sent to the wall. It reminded me of being at school. All the spares lent against the wall and we all started to have a chat, "Are you a spare too?" That was the sentence of whoever came to the lonely wall. Soon the wall wasn't lonely. I was the first "Spare" but we could have formed a Gospel Choir within about fifteen minutes of my arrival. We didn't though. We talked amongst ourselves about Wembley and how shit it was that they were sentencing stewards to two years in prison for selling the Hi-Vis and lanyards. We talked about bloodyhell, haven't people got anything better to do than blame us stewards about everything?

I had a heart to heart with Shazia next to me on the wall of spares. We got talking. When you're in the spares it takes forever. A bit like being an old cat or an old dog that's about to be put down unless someone adopts it. There's nothing wrong with us though, they just randomly select some spares. Some SIA's get upset about it. I'm never bothered though. I just think it makes the job all the more exciting.

I started to talk to Shazia. She told me she had 3 young children and that she worked all day as security in a Liverpool Street office block. She told me that her husband had abused her for ten years and he would beat her and the children up and that she was made to never leave the house. Thankfully she remarried and she said her new husband is perfect and that he looks after the children now. I didn't know what to say to the first bit of me and Shazia's conversation. I do believe that she understood my caring nature as she needed water and there was no water and she needed the toilet and there was no toilet but I took it upon myself to find Shazia both. Well, I thought I might as well as we could be standing around for 3 hours as spares.

Shazia was the first to leave the wall as she was SIA. I was second. I was given my hi-vis and sent to one of the stands.  I sat there and soon my friend from Wembley turned up, it was no other than my great friend Stella! We had such a top time at Wembley. It's really nice when you meet a fellow steward that you can have a chat to through the boring times and then laugh through the miserable times. It's like being in the army this steward malarking I reckon sometimes.

We sat in the stadium for a bit. An hour or so.  Just having brief chats with the rest of our crew. We watched fire flames pipe up at random moments and a weird re-mix of "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles." kept playing.

ENGLAND v ITALY (THE FINAL)

 Sunday 11th July 2021

8pm kick off

Wembley Stadium

Italy 1 (3) England 1 (2)

I had to sign in at 1pm for this game as it was the final. I was glad it would all soon be over and I wouldn't have to go back to that bloody stadium again. It hasn't all been bad as I've said many of times on here. I was just ready for it all to be over.

As I got out of the tube station and saw the thousands of people and the red smoke everywhere I knew it would be a more difficult day than usual. They were all already drunk and throwing lager and cans around. The chants were more deafening than usual. It was a bit of a struggle to manoeuvre my way through the paralytic fans to get to the stadium but I eventually managed it and I was glad to arrive in the relative peace of the signing in wind tunnel. 

I chose a chicken mayonnaise sandwich again and in I went with my little brown paper bag up the big steps to the top. I saw I'd been put on level 5 again. I didn't mind. I'd got used to level 5 by now and it felt like my area as I'd got to know where everything was. 

Us stewards queued up for about two hours before we got in the stadium. I think all of the stewards knew it was a bigger deal than usual but no one seemed that nervous. I wasn't nervous. I let it all flow over me. I become very detached about it all. I didn't listen to the radio whilst I was getting ready that morning as I thought it best not to. 

I was the first in the queue such is my enthusiasm and so the first of my group of level 5 stewards to make my way into the empty bowl. Well empty apart from the other level stewards, cleaners and technicians etc. I started on my chicken sandwich. I knew I wouldn't get a break to eat it today. It tasted as if it was on the turn but I ate it anyway. 

Another steward who really annoys me sat next to me. You can't choose who you sit next to so it wasn't his fault. He's annoyed me throughout all these games. He's about 28 and doesn't stop talking. He thinks he's so bloody funny. I think he's from South Africa. Oh he does my head in. I can't even be bothered to explain why. He started playing shit tinny music on his phone as if his voice wasn't annoying me enough. 

The usual wanker of a DJ was down below practising playing "Three Lions" to the empty bowl. He kept pretending there were people in the seats and waving his arms about like shit DJ's do. I think he fucked up "Sweet Caroline" at one point as it stopped. The stewards on level 1 started to boo. I was hoping he'd fuck up the DJing at the end if England won. That'd be funny I thought.

My supervisor today was a softly spoken Irish man in his 60's called Martin. I'd met him before during other games and he'd always been pleasant. I could tell he was probably hard as nails. Probably ex military I reckoned. That's why he was softly spoken and calm. I was happy as I was assigned to the lift again where I had been before but Martin said I was to swap with the other two stewards and go into the bay every twenty minutes so we could all watch the game. That suited me fine. What a reasonable chap this Martin was I thought. Well, he did actually mean check tickets and watch the fans like. 

I was put on my lift first. I'd been on this particular lift twice before so it felt like my lift once again. I don't like checking tickets or sending people the wrong way to their seats or arguing with them about the no alcohol in the bowl rule so I thought I'd stay at my lift post until kick off and once everyone was settled in I'd pop in the bowl and have a look at what was going on. I knew the other two stewards were probably into football and happy enough in there. One of my co-stewards seemed to read my mind and told me he'd swap with me at eight. He was a nice young man. Very relaxed and friendly. 

The fans began to arrive at five. They seemed alright and the usual bunch really. Not like the fans I encountered on Wembley Way earlier. After half an hour a fan came up to me and said his friend was trying to get in but the stadium was in lockdown. I had noticed that the fans had stopped arriving up the escalators next door to the lift. The cool black steward on the escalators always high fives them or gives them a fist punch. I like watching that. He'll sometimes have some banter and a laugh about the score. It's a really nice atmosphere up by my lift. I asked a supervisor what was happening and they told me there were people without tickets trying to get in and it was a bit chaotic down there. I didn't think much of it. After half an hour the fans started arriving again with their chants. 

I got the usual lot of fans asking if they could use the lift as they were supposed to be on level 2. It's always a load of bollocks and there's no backing down from me. Remember the coked up man offered me £300 in cash to use the lift at the England v Germany game? I never back down when it comes to using my lift. The medication excuse seemed to be a popular reason to get to level 2 during this game. "My brother's on level 2 and I have to give him his medication." I kept telling those kind of people to see a supervisor as they need to be escorted by a supervisor and taken back up. They give up then. 

8pm was soon upon Wembley and the nice friendly steward came and swapped position. My  position was in the disabled bay. It had a great view of the pitch as disabled bays always do. There are disabled bays all around the bowl and this one was just behind England's goal. 

One minute and 57 seconds later I was looking down at the pitch and saw the goal. I made the right decision to swap at kick off but felt sorry for the nice steward missing the goal. I reckoned he would have appreciated it more than me. I've no interest in football as we all know. I got a bit bored of watching the game after five minutes so I went back to my lift post and told him I might swap again a bit later. It's nice doing the lift when the game is on as it's peaceful. It was a bit loud for me in the bowl. 

Half time came and people were soon back asking me for my lift. I knew that would happen even more during half time and was going to get the nice steward to swap with me but  I soon realised that if I went to the bay I was going to have to check people weren't taking alcohol into the upper bays. I thought the lift was probably the easier job knowing those England fans in the upper bays were all pissed. 

It's always nice that when I'm doing the lift or bar I've only got to put up with the fans for fifteen minutes. They were all soon back in the bowl and yet again the shouting and chanting of the fans became a murmur. Awful chart music is played in the corridors. I prefer the chanting of "Harry Maguire, he drinks the vodka, he drinks the Jager, his heads fucking massive!" I dread to think what chant those fans would think up about my drinking life.

I heard the Italy goal whilst I was attempting to finish off my on the turn and by now stale chicken mayonnaise sandwich. All the stewards said they would go into extra time and penalties for this game. They were hopeful that England would win. I hoped they would too as I didn't want those dodgy England fans smashing the stadium up on their way out. 

I thought I'd pop into the bowl again after the not so shock of the equaliser to have a look at everything. The other steward swapped and I stood by a young girl in a wheelchair. She must have been about 21. She looked like Sarah from Labyrinth. It is a bit like the film Labyrinth in that stadium with all the steps. I got the feeling that she was reassured by my presence next to her as she smiled and she could tell I was smiling too beneath my medical grade facemask. She was the calm in the eye of Wembley Stadium at this final. She didn't speak or chant and just sat quietly watching. I don't say anything to the fans whilst I'm in the bowl and the match is on. They don't want to spend that much on a ticket and then hear me going on about something or other. I did give her another smile when the bare chested man invaded the pitch. I told her he could have at least taken his trousers off. I know it wasn't a funny thing to say and it was a bit rubbish but I thought I'd break the uneasy silence. I didn't want to start asking her why she was in a wheelchair. That would have been weird. 

I got bored of watching the match after a bit so went back to my lift. Soon it was extra time and then the penalties came. I wondered at what time I would get out of the stadium and all the other stewards were wondering the same. I had a brief look at the penalties but I couldn't really be bothered about it. I know I don't get a high or a low. I do feel a bit happy when England win as the team seem like nice chaps. 

Anyway, they lost and so that was that. The fans came out and instead of smashing up the stadium they just left gradually, all calm, subdued and sad looking. I felt a bit sorry for them but I was glad that Italy won. I then thought about the domestic violence rate in England going up and all the sad people across the country in their pubs and homes. All that disappointment. So sad. But then I thought about Italy and how happy they would all be. I thought about the nice Italy fans I'd met and those three gladiators that had been so happy and nice to me at the Italy v Spain match. I thought about how much I love Italian food and how as a Catholic it might bring Pope Francis some happiness after his operation. 

The stewards left the stadium at about midnight. I said goodbye to all the friendly stewards I'd met and they asked me if I'd be back at Wembley to do the rugby. I told them no. I think my Wembley days are done with now. I'm glad I saw it through. I didn't have much else to do anyway. 

ENGLAND v DENMARK

Wednesday 7th July 2021

8pm kick off

Wembley Stadium

England 2 Denmark 1

I wasn't much looking forward to stewarding this game. The England fans have been by far the worst fans during this tournament. I thought well, if I think about this as an adventure then this one could be quite fun. 

I was a bit sick of the anaemic sandwiches that Wembley give the stewards so I ate a big pizza at home so I'd be okay for the day. The sign in was 2pm and the England fans were already on Wembley Way doing their drunken chants. After signing in in the bleak wind tunnel I just took a packet of crisps. They always have cheap sandwiches but posh crisps. I took sweet chilli flavour. As I was trying to put my wrist bands on I could hear that the ranting lesbian was there. She's always shouting about how hard done by she is in some way or another. She's the kind of lesbian you'd meet in Holloway. She's only short so perhaps that's why she shouts so much. I quickly made my way up the many steps to the next sign in as I needed to get away from her voice.

The queue at the top to sign into the stadium was very long and not moving. Soon enough the ranting lesbian was only one person behind me. I don't hate her too much. She was saying how crap the sandwiches are and the shy Asian girl behind me suggested putting the crisps in the sandwiches to make them more interesting. The ranting lesbian didn't think much of that idea and soon turned the subject to how she could eat sweets because her girlfriend was away so she'd bought loads of sweets with her. I noticed the girl that I met on the first day of the tournament turn up. The one that seems to always be having a nervous breakdown over nothing. I think they employ her as some kind of equal opportunities thing. You can tell that she's very posh and very intelligent in perhaps a genius type way. I was trying to get some kind of background on her when she used my lift once but she just closed up and got in the lift. You can't ask her simple questions or talk to her. She just doesn't connect. She's on another team that does the escalators. I bet they've put her in a position where she doesn't have to come across many people. Like on a random escalator that no one uses. Cushy number. 

You have to pass five sets of scanning and security before you can go to your post. I was on the fifth floor again. Right at the top. They've put me up there for every game apart from England v Croatia. That was the first Wembley game. I walked up the escalators quickly so I could join the hi-vis pick up queue but that was a long queue too and soon the nervous breakdown girl and ranting lesbian were behind me. It was alright though, this queue went down fast and I was soon sitting at the top of the empty bowl eating my crisps. I always enjoy this part. I like watching the prepping of the stadium and the practising of the presenter. More and more stewards joined area 501-507. Those were the bays we were to be positioned at. We always wait in the bowl for about an hour before being given our positions. 

Daniel was my supervisor again today. He'd been my supervisor for the Italy v Spain game the previous day. He's a nice lad and I was thankful that he was again my supervisor. I think he might be studying or something. He's a young man of around 23 and articulate. I'd like to know his back story.

Daniel knew I was a good steward from the previous day where I was watching the Spanish and Italian fans on a bay and walking up and down the steps and checking tickets. I was rubbish at working out where people were sitting as numbers have always caused me great confusion. It was quicker to let the fans work it out for themselves as I kept sending them to the wrong places and there are a lot of steps if I point right and really it's left or down and it's really up. Anyway Daniel didn't see all the great confusion I'd caused the previous day so he asked me if I'd prefer to be on a bay like that again or in a more secluded place. I opted for a more secluded place. The Italian and Spanish fans were very understanding but the England fans I would expect not so much. He then took me to the biggest bar in Wembley Stadium. He said "All you've got to do is stand in the middle and just watch out for anyone smoking or anyone fighting and then just ring on the yellow telephone if anything kicks off." Now this was my ideal place! I couldn't believe how my luck was in. This was even better than the lift! No checking tickets, no telling people not to drink, no arguing about all the different rules. Just standing in a massive bar full of drunken England fans. I was fine with that. Pubs and bars are my usual environs as we know all too well.

After a while an Asian boy was sent to join me. He was a spare and I guess Daniel thought I could do with some back up as it was the biggest bar in the stadium and I'd walked past it before so I was familiar with how busy it gets before the match and at half time. He was a nice boy called Nazim. We got talking. I told him I'd lived in London since 2002. He told me he was born in 2003. I always forget I'm older nowadays. I never feel old though so it does make me laugh. He told me he thought I looked about thirty. I was happy with that. It seems to be a thing at every match we try and guess our co stewards age. 

Eventually the fans started to arrive. They seemed very sober and subdued. I wasn't expecting that. The atmosphere seemed very different from previous games. I then realised it was because they were nervous about this game. I always forget about the fixtures and football side to the Euros. I always forget how important it is to these people. I don't know what's important to me in the same way. I've never really been a fan of anything apart from E.T. so I can't really relate to a game or even a pop group. 

Nazim was summoned by Daniel after about twenty minutes in the bar to another job in the stadium. I didn't know what or where as Daniel just came and took him away. I didn't mind being in the bar with all the anxious England fans sipping their £6.90 paper cups of Heineken. 

After a few minutes of Nazim being sent away another young Asian steward came to join me. His name was Farhan. He told me that he'd asked to be moved because as a Muslim he's not allowed to be near or touch alcohol. He told me that even if his shoes touch alcohol then that would be a sin and that he would not be able to pray. He told me that he needs to pray four times a day and that he was due to go off and pray. Now the position he was in was manning a fire escape in the corridor where all the England fans were singing and spilling their drinks. The fans always tend to do their singing and chanting in the corridors instead of the bar for some reason. Farhan was only about 18. I felt a bit sorry for him. There was no way he was getting out of this stadium without alcohol on his shoes. He told me he was watching where he was walking and stepping over spilt beer. As no alcohol is allowed in the stands I told him he should really be put in there. It was getting busier now as the sea of fans descended down Wembley Way and up the steps into the stadium. The corridors were full of spilt Heineken. The anxious fans I first encountered were soon turning into the England fans I'm familiar with, downing pint after pint and trying to get enough in before kick off. It was only 6pm. Farhan told me how he needed to go and pray but couldn't step on the alcohol. Bloodyhell I thought. What was he expecting? Obviously not this. I went to get a supervisor so that he could be moved but I couldn't find one. He then said he'd walk through the stands and find one and ask to be moved. They weren't going to refuse him on religious grounds so off he went and I didn't see him after that. 

I didn't mind being alone again stewarding my massive bar full of now drunken singing England fans. I thought it was all quite exciting and plus I didn't have to talk to anyone. Nothing of note happened in the two hours before kick off. Just the relentless singing of "Three Lions" and that's been the most annoying part of stewarding these games but even that's stopped being annoying now. It's become like a Hare Krishna chant or a recitation of The Rosary to me. Only the English could write a song about their football team losing. 

I briefly chatted to a man from Oldham who was after purchasing a program. I like it when that happens. No one spoke to me in the bar. I was quite happy. There was no trouble and soon it was kick off and they were gone and all was quiet again. 

I went over to look at the lovely view of Wembley Way. The light was looking prefect and I could tell it would be a wonderful sunset. Just me and the debris of hundreds of paper Heineken cups and a sea of spilt drinks. No bother for me here. No telling drunks what to do. It was very peaceful and then I heard a thunderous noise but not the usual celebratory one and I at once knew what had happened. Denmark had scored. Oh dear. This was not boding well for my peace. I got back to my post in the middle of the bar and a man came running in, yelping like some wounded animal. Some other men came in looking tearful. It was only the thirtieth minute. Before long they'd composed themselves and got back to their seats and I was alone again. 

Nine minutes later I could hear the kind of roar I was waiting for. I spent the nine minutes before the equaliser worried about the domestic violence rate soaring. Soon it was half time and the jubilant fans came to down as many pints as they could in fifteen minutes.  A lot of the fans spend half time queuing for their £6.90 pints, leave them untouched and go back in. This half time was very loud. A man started to bang his fist on the ice cooler on the bar and start a chant. Another man started to do the same with the shutters of a closed up corner bar. I went over and told them to stop it and so they did. The authority of a hi-vis eh? A posh woman in her late 60's walked towards me and said, "Why do you do a job like this? This is terrible!" I told her that I enjoy a challenge but she'd already walked away. I guess like Farhan, it wasn't what she was expecting either.

The fans were soon all back in and peace and my perfect view of Wembley Way and the sunset were restored. Nothing much happened after that. They close the bars after half time and I was thankful for that. No one could bother me now. The match seemed to go on for ages.  I suppose it did go into extra time but I was enjoying myself. Daniel even sent someone to replace me so I could take a fifteen minute break. This post was so good that you even get a break! Wow! I did need to sit down so I went to the stinking staff room with the overflowing bins and mould on the walls in bay 514 to sit down. I was able to check my phone for the first time. If you're caught checking your phone whilst stewarding then sometimes you're sacked straightaway. The fifteen minutes went by in a flash but I was glad to be out of that depressing room and back in my spacious bar. 

I really didn't want it to go into penalties as I couldn't work out anyway I could get home if the tubes stopped. The match finished late the previous night and a lot of the stewards had to get taxis which the agency won't pay for. I was happy when I heard the last roar. I was standing in my bar and it started to shake. The whole stadium shakes when they go mad. It's a lovely thing. It lifts the spirits I'd say. 

So England won and Wembley Way was all full of fireworks and thousands of fans. After clearing the stadium of the 60,000 fans we were sent back in to check all the seats to see whether any were broken. We have to do this after every match. I'm always sent up to the very top. I look down occasionally but not much as I just want to do it as fast as I can and get out. There were quite a few broken ones this time and all those need to be reported. 

Finally there was the debrief. Daniel told us what an excellent job we had all done. Then I heard my name mentioned. He saw me and said "Oh, I was just checking you were here, I thought I'd left you in the bar!" Ha ha. all was well. 

It takes about twenty minutes to get out of the stadium due to handing in the hi-vis and the supervisors have to scan you out twice. Signing out is about as complicated as signing in. It was 11:45pm so I decided that the quickest way to get home would be the overground from Wembley Stadium Station. The thousands were all still celebrating on Wembley Way. Wembley Stadium Station was indeed the quickest way and soon I was home with my cup of tea and leftover pizza and watching the replay on the telly. My attention span didn't last and I soon went to bed. I find football boring.

ENGLAND v GERMANY

ENGLAND 2-0 GERMANY

Upon meeting the supervising steward on floor 5  I asked to man the lift. 

I got to my position and there I was 11:15am until 8pm. Cool. That was me and that was my post in Wembley. I'd done it before and all would be well..

It was boring for a while. A young man manning the stairs next door asked me how old he thought he was. 21 I said. Correct he said. I told him I was 39 to which he laughed. He said "Before you told me you had a boyfriend I was about to ask you for your number!". He then told me I looked 28. Kind. Extremely. He was a lovely young man. Sri Lanka. Well he was pretty. They always are.

The England fans started to come in. Up the escalators. They drank Heineken pints and pints upon pints. That's why I love my little lift job.

I spoke to a family. A fella that was 20. He kept asking me if he could get to level 1 for £200 in cash. Soon it was £300 in cash. Coked off his face he was.  "No" I said. I kept telling him, "Even if you do go down, tickets need to be shown." He wasn't having any of it. Drunk people never do. The man was relentless as drunk people often are. He gave me £20 to guard his drinks till half time. I told him "No" but he shoved it into my hand and I put it into my terrible trouser pocket. 

The relentless drunk and his family came back at half time. The drinks had gone but he forgot about the £20. His friend still kept going on about getting to level 1. I said no and reiterated my story.

Half time had gone. I was thankful. No one was around apart from a few stewards and we laughed about the fans. About fifteen minutes into the second half I told an orange vis that I hadn't had a break. He said "You what? that's terrible!" What company are you working for? 

 "Expedia", 

To which he replied "No wonder!"

I sat down in the stinking horrible stewards room and ate my lonely packet of crisps.

I heard them score. I went to have slight glance but was soon told to go back to my my post. The break room was much more terrible than my post. I heard them score again. 

And so to my post. The riot police were extremely polite. They asked if they could use MY lift!

 . 

 

ENGLAND v CROATIA

 2pm Kick off

Wembley Stadium

England 1 Croatia 0

I decided to get back into my football stewarding. It's something I enjoyed before the pandemic hit. I thought I'd give it a go. There was nowt else to do. 

I'd never been to Wembley Stadium, the closest I ever got was being picked up by my agency in the Lidl car park and going to Luton. Previous entries will tell you all about those ordeals.

This opening game fell on one of the hottest days of the year. The morning however, was comfortable and fresh. My uniform is forever uncomfortable; white shirt, black trousers, clip on tie and black boots. It forever makes me look two stones heavier than I am.

I felt quite excited walking towards those famous Wembley steps with the other penguins. It was quite a novelty to be back at work after all.

I was told to queue towards the right of the steps. The queue snaked round and a vinegar tits type steward told us all to social distance. That was an impossible I must say.

I was stood behind a girl who was clearly on the spectrum. She just kept saying, "I need to sign in, I need to sign in! What time is it? Would you like a biscuit? Would you like a sip of my coffee?" 

I soon lost her and joined another queue. It's people like her that make me feel okay about being a steward. 

Nowadays you have to have proof of a negative Covid test 24 hours before your shift. It does take a while to get in. I've had my two jabs anyway but still. They'll never take that as proof. There's no social distancing in this stadium and I'll tell all later.

Upon presenting my negative Covid result I was presented with a wrist band. The kind lady put it on for me. Everyone was extremely friendly I must say. I was excited too! I just felt so happy to be part of something. Being back at work was rather fabulous too!

And so another queue ensued. This was my security agency that I was contracted out to. I was given another part of my lanyard and given a choice of chicken, ham or cheese sandwiches. I was then told to go on my way up the several flights of steps. I was so excited!

Upon arrival on the first floor of the stadium I was greeted by a couple of jovial men in their 50's. They were old hats at security and I could tell. The pass that they gave to me at my agency desk wouldn't work. I was to go down and do it all over again. It didn't matter to me though. I'd had a lack of exercise since the pandemic. I was happy to be running up and down steps.

It all worked out and soon I was in the stadium proper. I was put through another metal detector and then I was in. I felt so happy. I was on my way! 

I was to be put on the ground floor and after a briefing about stuff like security codes and what to do if you see anyone dodgy or any suspicious packages then I'd know what to do. I listen to these briefings intently as I know how important they are. I'm not being up my own arse here but after the Manchester Arena bombing.... I followed the enquiry very closely.  I now  know  how important stewards are. Crucial.

There were two male stewards behind me in the briefing taking the piss out of the man giving the briefing. The briefing steward in his 50's was really cool. You could tell he was old hat in security just like the men outside. I bet those two stupid stewards would be the first to run out.  

I was given my hi-vis and ate my chicken mayonnaise sandwich. I was given my position doing the steps in the best placement in the stadium apparently. I don't care for football. I felt bad about that because all the boys wanted my position. Huh huh...

My co-steward was a young black girl. We got on like a house on fire and kept saying how much we hated football. When no one else was listening mind. 

Throughout the match the supervisor kept telling us to stop nattering. She separated us in the end but the little black girl kept coming back to me and telling me how fantastic I was. She was fantastic too. She told me about her two children and her lack of GCSE's. I told her about my failures and I attempted to make her feel better. 

Three Blackpool men wanted to put their flag on the balcony railings. I told them that that would be okay because then my Mum could see me if she watched and so could Dave. The Blackpool fan was extremely drunk and I had to keep taking his drink off him throughout the game. I'd been sober for four days and once I'm sober the drink doesn't bother me. 

Blackpool lad told me his name was "Scooter Boy", an old Mod I guess. He kept asking me to dance and pulling his false teeth out. I didn't worry about it. My little black co worker thought it was funny. She'd got her SIA badge but never worked an event or even a football match. 

I missed the goal. I was in the toilet. 

  

   she she can 

MILLWALL v SHEFFIELD UNITED

Saturday 25th January 2020
3pm kick off

I was looking forward to this assignment as I'd heard all about Millwall being a bit dodgy, y'know like with violence and hooligan types.
   It's only a five minute walk from South Bermondsey Overground to The Den. The idea of The Den sounded ominous. I was almost slightly scared.
   Upon arrival I was told to sign in with 'Wise Security.' The security of the security was tight. I had to hand over my passport. Then I had to go and sign in at another desk. At the end of a breeze blocked corridor I was met by a big black man who pointed me into a room. It was no spacious than a twelve by eight foot prison cell. There was a woman behind a formica fold up table. She looked not the kind to be spoken to apart from to say yes and no. She shouted over to the big black man and said 'Are you not checking people's uniforms?'
   I knew exactly what was wrong with mine. I only had black jeans and they stipulated in the WhatsApp message the previous day that jeans would not be tolerated. I got away with it at Leyton Orient but I was quickly realising that this wasn't the friendly O's. I wasn't worried though, I just thought if she is going to send me home then at least I turned up and I'm not going to get the £30 fine for calling in sick. Then Vinegar Tits said 'Alright, we'll let it go this time but make sure next time when you work for "US" you've gotta be wearing the right trousers yeah?' I said 'Yes.'
 'Here's your jacket,'  said another man whilst old Vinegar Tits was taking down my passport number and comparing my photo to my non make-up terribleness.
   The man quickly put on my hi-vis and sent me up towards another corridor. I could see light at the end of this one and then upon walking up the steps it became clear to me I was arriving at "The Den."
   I saw a group of men in hi-vis so I said 'I've been told to come up here.'
'Okay, is it your first time here?'
'It's my first time doing a match like this, I was put on a quiet gate at Leyton Orient a couple of weeks ago but that's it.'
They nodded and just said 'Well, you can talk to us for a bit or you can sit in that stand over there.'
Well, I thought, there's no good talking. I've been sober for three days and I can't talk to them about the goings on of Bet, Deidre and Liz circa 1994. I doubt they were even born.
   I didn't know what a stand was, however most supervising stewards are people of few words. I went to sit with a group of other stewards and everyone laughed. The supervisors meant the next stand. I didn't want to be stood down so I went to stand my ground on the other stand where they told me to sit.
   I was all alone on this Millwall stand by the goal posts for about five minutes. I contemplated what the day had in store for me then one by one the other stewards came in to sit beside me in my stand, each wearing the same luminous orange Wise Security hi-vis. It reminded me of Fraggle Rock when the Doozers go to work building around Fraggle Rock. The stand soon filled up and before long I was surrounded by two hundred or so orange hi-vis.
   With everyone settled the chief steward came to do the briefing. Millwall had been in trouble the previous week. Monkey chants and other racist things had gone on. If we were to see it or hear it then we were to put our hands up to report it. The supporter will then get a lifetime ban. Great, well deserved I thought but what if the supporter that has the ban waits outside the stadium and sees me and kills me? I know how passionate these Millwall fans can be and I'm pretty difficult to miss with my bleached hair plus I'm the only white female steward out of the two hundred or so stewards there. I thought, well I'll just wait and see where I'm placed. I might be in a nice lonely corridor where no one goes. I love being placed on what others would call dull gates and boring corridors. My mind is forever where the real action is and I'm never bored. No such luck at this game though. I was given a hard baseball cap to wear and placed directly at the gate beside the goal posts on the Millwall side of The Den. I was to stand there with my back towards the game at all times and to just look at the Millwall fans to make sure no one was drinking, smoking or fighting. My main responsibility was to make sure no one stormed the gate and ran onto the pitch. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to do that being five foot three and not very strong. Anyway, I'll give anything a try. Kind of.
   It was quite cool at The Den because I was given a little fold up seat to sit on once the match had begun and then a little ball boy had his little stool next to me. The ball boy was only about ten. I thought they'd be older than that at Millwall. The ones that I met at Orient were all about fifteen. I watched while the stand filled up. I could hear the footballers behind me warming up. I then understood why I was given the hard baseball cap. Footballs started coming from everywhere being kicked into the stand. A lot of the fans kept being hit and the force at which they were being kicked was a very strong force indeed. A boy of about five and his Dad were in the stand. I'd clocked them earlier and was thinking how nice it was. Y'know a little boy going to watch football with his Dad. Then I saw a ball coming towards them at full pelt only stopped by the little boys cheek. He started to cry. It looked very painful for the rest of the people that got hit by the practice balls never mind the five year old boy. I felt so sad for him. Especially when the Dad had no sympathy and started to tell the boy to stop crying. I kept trying to make eye contact with the Dad and he knew I was looking but he looked such a nasty man that in the end I thought it was best to not get involved. It was his son after all and I'm a steward not a social worker. I only wanted to offer the boy a tissue. The boy looked such a sensitive soul. He was wearing a hat and a scarf all in one to make him look like a dinosaur. I just wanted to give him a cuddle. The boy eventually stopped crying just before kick off.
   The whistle went and so I sat down on my little fold up seat. It's such a luxury being able to sit down as a steward. The stand didn't look too bad. There were a few empty seats in my part of the stand. There was a large man that had been sitting in one of the front rows opposite me since 1:30 when they opened the gates. He was wearing tracksuit pants. I could tell he had probably sat in that specific seat since time began. He reminded me of a failed football manager and he may well have been. There was something very peculiar about him that I couldn't place my finger on. The other two people that came to sit closer were the little boy and his father.
   I could tell that for about twenty minutes or so the ball was up the other end. I was glad of this but of course the Millwall fans weren't. It just meant for me that they couldn't go shouting anything or storming my gate. My peace wasn't to last. When the ball did reach the my end the awful father and the big peculiar man started to stand up and shout all sorts of things "Fuck off you cunt" being the most popular of their expressions. I noticed that through the peculiar man's tracksuits trousers every time he got excited and Millwall were about to score a goal I could see he had a huge erection. That made me laugh.
   Soon enough it was half time. I stay where I am at half time but I have to stand up to keep my eye on the supporters. A lovely old man walked down the steps and offered me one of his Liquorice Allsorts. I thought, aye they're not all bad. Hardly anyone was as far as I could see. I took one of those jellied ones and thanked the man and wished him a good second half.
   My friend, Jamie Manners is a season ticket holder at Millwall so I told him to keep an eye out for me and soon he was down to my gate for a quick chat. He said it was quite easy to spot me as I'd put my pony tail outside the back bit of my baseball hard cap. That was actually for the benefit of the BBC TV cameras as this match was being filmed for Match of the Day. I was very much looking forward to getting home and putting my feet up with a cup of tea and trying to spot myself on telly.
   Half time was soon over and the erection man and the bad dad were soon back in their seats. Not for long though. It was a difficult second half as they both kept running up to my gate upon any bit of action and shouting "Fucking cunt" phrased in many different ways. At one point the bad dad fell over the gate and looked like he had hurt himself. His head hit the tarmac by my feet and I pushed him back over. He seemed embarrassed and I was glad about that.
   In the sixty-second minute there was a roar from the Sheffield end. They had scored. After that, the Millwall supporters seemed to calm down a bit. I think they knew that Millwall were playing badly and the ball spent most of the time at the Sheffield end. I was glad of that. I was sick of erection man and bad dad storming my gate. The Millwall fans started to get disheartened and a few started to leave and then more and then the eighty-fourth minute came and another roar was heard from the Sheffield fans. The Millwall fans had all given up. I felt sorry for Jamie Manners and the Liquorice Allsort man though. Most of the Millwall fans seemed very nice.
   And so the match ended 2-0 to Sheffield United. I was happy. The match was pretty uneventful for me.
   Back at home with my cup of tea I settled down to watch Match of The Day. I'd been looking forward to this all day. They just show the highlights on Match of the Day and the ball wasn't down where I was for much of the match so I wasn't expecting to see me much but all of a sudden it showed my end of the ground and I could see my little seat but there was no blonde ponytail sticking out. There was a man in my place. That must have been the point I'd gone for my five minute toilet break. Oh dear.

LUTON v CARDIFF

Saturday 8th February 2020

3pm kick off

The pick up point was Lidl car park in Wembley. There I was to wait for a minibus to take me and the other stewards to Luton F.C.

   I wasn't sure how long it would take me to get to the Lidl car park in Wembley so I set off incredibly early from Leytonstone. There's a fine of £30 if you don't turn up or even if you call in sick for a shift. I always like to arrive with plenty of time and be dry for at least two days before any shift.

   I'd arrived at 08:45, an hour and fifteen minutes too early for my 10:00 pick up. Luckily there was a McDonald's so I thought I'd go in and have a coffee until the minibus arrives. The McDonald's was pretty much empty apart from about six or so homeless people spaced about the place. They looked like they had been sleeping at their tables all night. The place stank of piss but I got my coffee and sat down by a window so I could keep an eye on the car park.

   The time seemed to go fast in McDonald's and before long I spotted a minibus. I wasn't sure whether it was the right one but as I got closer I could see that the couple of men looked like they were in security.

   I told them who I was but the Chinese driver said I wasn't on his list and that I was to wait for the next minibus as I would be on Roger's list. The driver was a friendly sort and took great joy in telling me all about his heroic security moments.

   He told me that he had stopped a man at The Last Night of The Proms who had one hundred bullets on him. He said he stopped another shooting once. 'I said no photography please.' He found himself quite the comedian. I preferred him to the amount of monosyllabic idiots I've met doing this job. He asked me if I fancied earning a bit extra after Luton and going up to Ally Pally to pack up the stewards' kit there. There was a gig on, Bombay Bicycle Club. I politely declined. After a football match I'm always a bit drained and it was going to be a long enough day already. After a while a few other stewards arrived and so his minibus set off.

   I waited with the new arrivals for the other minibus. I met a rare English person called John. John was well spoken and in his fifties. I couldn't quite work him out. Why would a well spoken slightly built English man be doing football stewarding? He didn't have an SIA badge or even want one. I did wonder whether he was writing a book too or whether he was an actor doing research for a role.

  After about ten minutes our mini bus arrived. I was on Roger's list so we got in the van along with a few other recent arrivals and waited for the others. A very overweight Indian man was the first latecomer to turn up. He seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed warm towards him. He struggled to get in the minibus as it was quite a high step so two people had to pull him in. Once in he proceeded to offer round a load of almond pastries he had bought with him. 

  After waiting another half hour a couple more men turned up but by 11 we were ready to set off. It was nice being on the motorway to Luton. I'd never been to Luton before and I always love towns like that. Places that I can never imagine living. I often have days out by myself to these places. Basildon, Milton Keynes, High Wycombe, you know the type.

   As we approached the football ground the streets of red brick terraced houses reminded me of Werneth in Oldham where I grew up. It looked to be 100% Pakistani in this area. I felt very much at home.

   We walked down a long terraced street and every few houses were interrupted by one of the football ground gates. I now understood what they meant by terraces.

   Upon arrival at the ground we did the usual signing in and then we were given a hi-vis jacket. After that we were sent to one of the stands to receive the briefing. The chief steward told us that Cardiff were a risky fan side. They were known for drunkeness, drugs, violence, racism and every other form of ism. They didn't take too kindly to people of a different colour and they didn't much like the English. I was beginning to feel a bit apprehensive about what lay ahead for me. We were then given our positions. I was taken with a well built woman to be put on one of the Cardiff gates. The supervisor we were assigned was an extremely obese bald man with a speech impediment. He seemed nice enough. There were two gates, she must have been old hat at this ground as she quickly told the supervisor that she would take care of the first gate where nothing much happened apart from letting the fans out at the end of the game. I was then assigned to the other gate. He told me that this gate was the busier gate. If I heard a loud banging on this gate I was to look through the peep hole, check who it was and I was only to let people in who were official such as other stewards and the police.

   I was then left and soon enough the loud banging on the gate began. It was mainly police at first coming into the ground and then after about half an hour the fans started to arrive. They mainly came through the turnstyles but I had to open the gate for the fans who were too fat to get through the turnstyles and there were a lot of them. I felt alright though as the police had chosen to do their searches outside my gate. They searched everyone going into the ground by patting them down plus they had a dog close by to sniff anything untoward out. 

   More and more Cardiff fans started to arrive. They were mostly well built men and they were mostly all highly inebriated. They were shouting their chants about how Swansea are cunts. I thought, do they know they're in Luton and playing Luton today?

   I was thankful when another steward arrived. Her name was Fiona and she said 'I've come to double up with you.' I thanked her and explained that I'd never been at this ground or done this job much before. I'd noticed her sitting in the stands earlier. She was stick thin, shaking and looked like she had been ravaged by crack or heroin or both. She told me she'd done this job for many years and that she had an SIA badge but preferred to just be a normal steward now. She explained that before the accident she was quite high up in the stewarding game. I asked for more details about the accident, trying my best to be delicate. She seemed like the kind of woman who could shatter at any moment. She said that a barrier had fallen on her at one of the football grounds. In my mind I thought there was more to this wreckage of a woman standing before me than just a barrier falling on top of her. I was trying to get more details about what had gone on in her life but she just kept shouting at the men, 'Sir, the toilets are on your left.' She had a really annoying high pitched whiny voice. God, I thought, this is going to be a long ninety minutes and then there's the rest. A man who was taking care of a child with down syndrome asked her where the disabled toilet was but she didn't know and I didn't know so whereas I'd just say, 'I don't know but if you go up the steps and ask another steward then I'm sure they'll be able to help.' Instead she turned this simple question into a panic that she didn't know. I just stood there. They just went up the steps in the end in search of the disabled toilet whilst she was still there ranting about why and how she didn't know. They were long gone but she wouldn't stop going on about how she was going to raise this question at the debriefing and for about half an hour she kept repeating herself 'It makes me look like a fool if I don't know where it is. We need to know where the disabled toilets are. What if someone else asks?' I tried to calm her down, 'Don't worry, when the supervisor comes to check on us we'll just ask them,' but still this didn't calm her and she just went on and on. The banging at the gate was a good distraction for her. she seemed to enjoy opening it and I was glad it gave her something to do. Perhaps it made her life worth living. I just stood there not doing or saying anything. I tend to spend most of my stewarding time just looking around at everyone and smiling.

   The next of Fiona's obsessions came when she spotted a man going into the ladies toilet. There were no doors on the outside of the toilets so it was quite an easy mistake to make. By this time the corridor was teaming with the drunken Welsh men chatting and chanting. She ran up to the man shouting 'Sir, sir! That's the ladies toilet, yours is over there!' This really brought her to the attention of the crowd of his mates waiting around outside. They kept laughing at her, going, 'Have you been having sex with our mate in the toilet? Aye look Barry, she's been having sex with Dafydd in the toilet!' The men kept laughing and shouting about it. Bloodyhell I thought, if any man goes into that toilet there's no way I'm going to stop them. Fiona then comes back to the gate and says to me, 'We need to keep an eye on that toilet, if any men go in there then we need to stop them.' Fuck that, I thought. I saw plenty of men going in as I was at the opposite side to it but Fiona was keeping her close eye on the goings on and just kept running up to them shouting 'Sir, sir, the gentlemen's are over there!' Bloodyhell did she not learn the first time? 95% of the crowd was male anyway. I mean, why start an argument with a drunken Welsh football hooligan for the sake of a piss? And this calling everyone sir business, what's that about? Is she going to call the women Ma'am? I just address everyone as "Aye you!" If there's anything I need to tell them that's important. 

   Most of the men dispersed into the stands by kick off with only a couple of lurkers having a fag by the open air bit before the steps.

   I didn't have much to say to Fiona. I'd got the measure of her and worked out she was a bit of a boring nut job instead of an interesting one. She was someone who took stewarding very seriously indeed. I started to wish they had sent me one of those monosyllabic eighteen year olds.

   There was a refreshment stand opposite my position where you could purchase £5 hot dogs. It was manned by two young black girls. It could only have been about fifteen minutes after kick off when an extremely paralytic man went up to the hot dog stand. I remember looking at him and wondering how he'd actually got into the game in the state he was in. He must have been in his early sixties and was wearing a Harrington and a Burberry baseball cap. Anyway, I didn't think too much of it and continued to guard the door. All of a sudden there was a panic at the hot dog stand. The Burberry man had tried to lean in and kiss one of the hot dog girls. Fiona was straight over causing more panic whilst the man scarpered back up the steps. Fiona kept acting like some kind of heroine to the shocked girl. 'It's my job to protect you, it's my duty.' Then as usual came the repeating and repeating and causing more panic to yet another situation. A supervisor was summoned and they asked what had happened and if the girl could give a description of the man so they could have him ejected. I walked over but with Fiona repeating herself and with the young girl still in shock I was invisible. I was attempting to tell them that I saw him and had a description but with everyone ignoring me I just went back to my post. It's kind of handy that I'm always observing things. It's a habit of mine but in this case I just couldn't be bothered shouting above the chaos.

   At half time they sent down an extra steward to keep an eye on the hot dog girls. He was an Asian man of few words but he was a calm change and seemed nice.

   Now at Luton they open this away gate at half time so the fans have more room to go out and smoke. They get some barriers and turn it into a pen for them. I had to make sure they didn't drink alcohol in the pen. They could only smoke and drink alcohol in a two foot space between the gate and the pen where the roof ends. I had to keep chasing the men with their pints into the pen to explain this stupid rule but they just stared at me blankly and carried on drinking and smoking in the bright sunshine. I gave up chasing the men and just left them to it. Fiona wasn't one to leave them to it and kept chasing the men around the pen shouting 'Sir, sir, you can't drink alcohol here!' Meanwhile, I pretended not to notice and chatted to some young lads about how these rules are ridiculous and we all had a laugh about it.

   Soon half time was over and everyone started to move back inside. A man in his late fifties and his friend came up to me. The man had a very strong accent and I had no clue what he was asking me so I kept asking him to repeat it and then after about the fifth attempt I got it. He was asking me if I liked S&M and did I like being whipped and pointing at the policeman's handcuffs he said, 'See, look at him and his handcuffs.' I'd like to think I'd be able to come back with something witty, like something Bet Lynch would say but my mind went blank so I just moved away.

   The other stewards started to move the barriers in. I didn't bother as I'm not used to carrying heavy things and if I can get away with someone else doing something I don't fancy doing then I will.

   Fiona started to carry a barrier in single-handedly. She looked as though she had done that kind of thing many times before but as she turned to place the barrier against the inside wall she knocked a pissed up man's two pints to the floor with the end of the five foot long barrier. All hell broke loose. Everyone started to laugh and she even looked like she was laughing. All the men started to chant, 'Buy him another pint...Buy him another pint...' I wasn't sure what to do so I just stood there laughing too. Luckily a couple of senior stewards were around and could see she was in distress and near enough having a nervous breakdown. She was shaking even more uncontrollably now. Oh dear, I did feel bad for her. The drunk six foot five inch Welsh man just stood there dumbstruck and Fiona was taken outside by one of the other stewards to sit down on the kerb with a bottle of water to recover.

   A senior steward was seeing to the man and seeking to replace his lost pints but the man was looking down at his bent bleeding finger which looked to me to be broken. The steward asked him to go to the medical room but the man refused so the steward radioed for the St. John's Ambulance to come down and take a look at the damaged finger. I couldn't overhear what the damage was due to all the commotion. The gates were now closed so I returned to my guard duty. After about twenty minutes Fiona returned back to her post to carry on. The man said he was going to sue for compensation. Bloodyhell, I thought, this woman and barriers clearly don't mix.

   The second half of a football match always goes much quicker despite any extra time. A few of the Cardiff fans started to leave as it was still 0-0 and they said they were playing badly. I fully took over gate duty letting the police in and out and the Cardiff fans out. A police officer commented about how good I was on my gate duty and asked me if I'd thought about joining the force. I told him I'd have a think about it.

   In the seventy-third minute there was a massive roar. I could tell it was Cardiff and I was really thankful for that goal. If all went well and Luton didn't equalize then I could open the gate in about fifteen minutes and let the happy Welshmen be on their way. That's exactly what happened. They seemed to be much more sober and polite than when they went in and I kept nodding at their smiling faces and smiling back saying "Bye!" The atmosphere was jovial and the police officers were taking photos of groups of fans outside their coaches. All was well with Wales.

   After all the fans had left, I handed in my hi-vis jacket and looked out for John, the English steward and the overweight Indian steward so we could walk back to the minibus. John asked me how it had gone on the gate. "Alright," I said.