Carlisle United book: punched by Viking in Paddock war zone

The Warwick Road End…to some, the beating heart of Brunton Park, to others a cow shed with an odd shaped (but very distinctive) roof.

I have stood in there on some memorable nights, including the win over Exeter in 1990 where Tony Shepherd scored the only goal of the game to send the crowd wild and give us all hope of an unexpected promotion.

I was also in 'The Warwick' for the second leg of the Autoglass Trophy northern area Final against Huddersfield Town in March 1994 when Joe Joyce scored an absolute beauty from what seemed like the halfway line from my distant perspective.

During my ill-fated stewarding days, I was occasionally tasked with patrolling the perimeter of the ‘Warwick’, telling unruly – and downright rude – adolescents to get down from the wall. It was a futile task.

As I walked on to have a word with the next lot doing the same thing a few metres further along, the little tinkers would climb back on and mock me from a distance. I could hardly blame them. What harm could sitting on the wall do?

I didn’t need the head steward to give me the answer as, during one uneventful game, a wayward shot knocked two of them clean off the wall like coconuts on a fairground stall. I gave them a ‘told you so’ smile as they picked themselves (and their teeth) up from the concrete steps at the bottom on the terrace. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Another notable game for me in the Warwick Road End was against Burnley in April 1992. The Clarets, needing a win to secure promotion, travelled up to Cumbria full of confidence, backed by thousands of travelling fans. It was the only occasion I can remember the away fans outnumbering the home fans at Brunton Park.

It didn’t help that we were at our lowest ebb, down at the bottom end of the Fourth Division (again) with one of the worst teams ever to play professional football.

I was stewarding that day, but my presence didn’t seem to scare the Burnley masses – most of whom were intent on enjoying themselves for what was bound to be a stroll in the (Brunton) park. Unluckily for them, it didn’t go as planned as, somehow, we managed to ruin the party with a late equaliser. The game ended 1-1 and Burnley would have to wait another day to claim their title.

Fans on the pitch during Carlisle United v Burnley in 1992 (Image: News & Star)

The party atmosphere turned a little sour, and I was summoned to leave The Warwick and make my way to the north end of the Paddock where Burnley fans, in various states of fancy dress, were trying to fight with the Carlisle fans.

I felt like a dead man walking as I made my way along the touchline towards the troubled area. I couldn’t have walked any slower if I had tried. If some grainy footage on YouTube manages to capture me plodding along, you might wonder if I had a care in the world. I did – not getting my head kicked in being the main one.

When I eventually made it to the war zone, I was told to "Get in amongst them!" with the other unfortunate stewards to form a line from the top of the terrace to the bottom in a futile attempt to keep the two sets of fans apart.

A dozen of us did as we were told and linked arms to hold back the baying mob. It was a pathetic tactic to try and stop the inevitable surge. I was about as much use as a one-legged man in an a***-kicking contest, and my (meagre) efforts to dissuade the Burnley crowd from resuming hostilities with their Carlisle foes proved to be unsuccessful.

I was punched in the face by a drunk dressed as a Viking and forcibly shoved to the side by another man in a tutu. I decided there and then that the sensible thing to do was put my own safety before that of others and let them run amok.

My tactic was to let them tire themselves out and fall back in line. When the strong arm of the law eventually restored order, I was given leave to resume my place back behind the goals at the Warwick.

Walking back along the touchline, my pace was somewhat quicker that it was going the other direction ten minutes earlier. The Warwick seemed to be the only end that hadn’t been ‘taken’ by the Burnley fans that day, and I was delighted to be back in amongst my own. Safe in the bosom of those who only verbally abused me as opposed to those who wanted to knock my block off.

My time as a steward came to an end soon after that. Aside from the threat of violence, I was constantly being told to watch the crowd and not the game. That was never going to happen, and I was soon back on the terraces as a fan while some other poor sod got sworn or spat at for £10 a match. I had served my time. I never did suit those big, illuminous yellow jackets anyway.

Another thing the Warwick Road End is/was (in)famous for is the toilets. It is true to say that hygiene was never top of the priority list for clubs back in the 1980s. The men’s toilets were basic to say the least and the ladies – if they existed at all – were dire too.

They were the kind of toilets where women learned how to hover, and men to tiptoe. Paddling pools of putrid pee. Going to the toilet at football grounds in the 1980s was quite a challenge. No posh hand sanitisers then. No soap either. In fact, if you found a sink with a working tap, you were privileged.

The infamous Warwick Road End urinals... (Image: Carlisle United)

The men’s urinals were little more than a wall with a gutter at the bottom to carry away the gallons of urine and beer. At half time, this wholly inadequate ‘rest room’ couldn’t cope with the number of men bursting to go and within minutes, the inevitable overflow would happen.

The floor would become a steaming, swashing, cesspit of bodily fluids. It wasn’t just the Warwick bogs – in all other areas around the ground, gents and ladies would risk their health and well-being when trying to relieve themselves.

Not for much longer though. Our new owners might love a bit of football related nostalgia, but breeze blocks soaked in urine won't be the first things on display in the new club museum.

New toilets have now been installed to replace the old ones, and the fans will soon be able to enjoy hot water and soap, flushing toilets and cubicles. They won't know what’s hit them.

I remember once being in that very same toilet, peeing against the bricks, stood shoulder to shoulder with other men doing the same as me. In line with expected toilet behaviour, we all stood facing the wall looking straight ahead or down at our feet.

This wasn’t a place to strike up a conversation or ask what our neighbour was having for tea that evening. As I looked down, I noticed a penny lying on the floor in the yellowy, frothy, lake. The man beside me noticed it too. Without looking at me, he chuckled and said, “See a penny, pick it up and all day you’ll have good luck!” I chuckled too.

A few seconds later, we tiptoed out and made our way back to the terracing for the second half. At the end of the game, I went back in there to pay another visit before making my way home. I stood in roughly the same place as before. The penny had gone.

Pete Scholes' new book on Carlisle United (Image: Peter Scholes)

I hope the ‘lucky’ person who decided to pick it up washed their hands when they got home, because they couldn't have washed them in there!

Soon, these toilets will be consigned to the past. Nostalgia can put a gloss on reality, but these are still treasured memories from my time following CUFC. The Warwick Road End – toilets and all – is still a special place and always will be. Our Kop. Our Holte End. Our Kippax. Our lucky penny.

The Place I Belong by Peter Scholes is available in the Blues Store, and can also be purchased on Amazon. Hardback £15.99, paperback £12 and Kindle version £4.99.