Terrace Legends - The Most Terrifying And Frightening Book Ever Written About Soccer Violence. Cass Pennant

      STEVE COWENS

      THE MEET

      I’d been on the trail of a Sheffield United face for nearly a year. After many meets, driving many miles, and going up more cul-de-sacs than a milkman, I finally found who I was looking for.

      I’d been to see Sheffield United play Liverpool and missed Steve. Then I thought I might have bumped into him at a benefit night for big local face Lester Divers, who was tragically murdered, but yet again we managed to miss one another. Finally it was my mate, Shaun, a Rotherham Blade, who made the connection, and at last I got to meet Steve Cowens, author of the Blades Business Crew.

      The meet with Steve was in a picture-postcard country setting – not somewhere you’d expect someone involved in the hoolie scene to live. Steve turned out to be very sincere and was very passionate about his team. He and a couple of his mates were great company. Steve has another book coming out later in 2003, called Business as Usual, which he wrote in fond memory of the late Lester Divers: ‘The finest boy ever to grace Bramall Lane. Gone but not forgotten.’ God bless ya, mate. Here Steve tells me about his life with the BBC.

      BACKGROUND

      I was born in June 1964. In the early ’80s firms up and down the country started to give themselves a name. Around twelve of us had a meeting on London Road to discuss what name we should give ourselves. Blades Firm Force, Bulldog Blades and H-Block Hooligans were all ideas, but then a lad from Anston came up with Blades Business Crew – BBC for short. The name had a good ring to it and was adopted. Calling cards were made with ‘Congratulations, you have just been tuned in by the BBC’ on them. At the time I was a salesman for a timber merchant. I currently hold a job as a supervisor at a tool company in Sheffield, my hometown.

      WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE TERRACE FASHION?

      In the early ’80s when everyone was Pringled or Lyle ’n’ Scotted up to fuck, I used to love Cerruti 1881 because not many geezers were into it. I used to travel to Lilywhites in London and buy a few 1881 trackies ’n’ jumpers. Knick-naks in Soho was also a good shop at the time and was the first with Armani and Hugo Boss. I used to love the Boss training tops that we wore at the time – later Sly Stallone wore them in the Rocky films.

      Currently I wear a lot of Paul & Shark. I’ve been into it for around nine years now and think it’s quality clobber. I also like Osaki Etienne and Evisu, but Evisu tops are made for the water drinkers not the beer heads like myself. What I’m saying is, I’m a fat cunt who can’t get in the fuckers.

      WHAT’S THE WORST FASHION YOU’VE EVER SEEN ON THE TERRACES?

      The worst fashion has to be the patchwork leathers of the early ’80s (Chelsea leathers, I think they were called) – they were fuckin’ minging. All the Cockney crews wore them and a few of our lot got into ’em. I also hated the shitty cycle tops that casuals started wearing around ’84. On a personal front, my own fashion disasters include leg warmers. But what about this beauty – in 1985 I went to the Burberry shop in London and bought a Burberry blanket! I had it made into a poncho and went to Leeds in it. I thought I was the bollocks with my beige Lois cords on, but all the lads were calling me twit Eastwood and giving me the ‘Ewy ewy ew’ from the spaghetti westerns. Looking back, what a cock!

      DESCRIBE YOUR WORST FEELING AT A GAME.

      Going to Wembley to see England v Scotland in 1983/4. The Jocks used to take over Wembley, so me and two mates went down to defend England’s pride. On the way to the ground all the Jocks were singing ‘Spot the looney’ at me as I walked up Wembley Way in my (this time we’ll get it right) England shirt. One took a slug at me when I told him to fuck off. I couldn’t do fuck all as the sweaties [sweaty sock, ie Jock] were all over the gaff. I thought we were going to get mullered, but once in the ground we were pleasantly surprised to be mixed in with a load of Chelsea and West Ham that were on one. We were at the Tunnel End and it kicked off, the Jocks got battered and it was the beginning of the end for the skirt-wearing ginger nuts. To be fair to the sweaties, on the way home I had a flat tyre and, like a cunt, I had no car jack. I limped my Morris Marina into the services and a van full of Jocks lifted the car up and changed the wheel for me, bless ’em.

      HAVE YOU EVER INCURRED ANY SERIOUS INJURIES OR BEEN BADLY BEATEN UP AT A MATCH?

      I was nearly blinded at Blackburn, of all places. Some snidey cunt smashed half a brick in my face from the side. I lost a tooth, broke my nose, and had a detached retina in my right eye. I was also slashed at Hull by some cunt from the Stanley family.

      HAS YOUR OWN SIDE EVER BEEN INVOLVED IN A FULL-SCALE RIOT?

      At the end of the season United fans always acted up at the last home game. It was the usual stuff – running on to the pitch, attacking away fans, going at it with the Old Bill and so on. At the end of the 1983/4 season we’d just lost to Wimbledon at home and it had dented our promotion hopes. It was the height of the miners’ strike and tensions between the working class and Maggie Thatcher’s militia were at fever pitch. Sheffield and its surrounding towns had a lot of people who worked down the pit. Anyhow, as the plod tried to clear a large crowd of around a thousand lads away from the bottom of Bramall Lane, the lot went up.

      Police were chased, which led to a mounted police charge. Around twelve officers on horseback galloped into the crowds, only to be greeted by a hail of bricks. Two bizzies were pulled from their mounts and shovelled in, and the others turned and galloped back from whence they came. A huge roar went up and United hooligans chased the plod right up Bramall Lane. Police vehicles were turned over and ‘full-scale riot’ is the only way to describe it. Bolton and Bristol