The Football Wardrobe: Flags and Banners
Funny how fashions change isn’t it? Especially in football.
For example, in my football watching teens, nobody wore replica tops to games. Football shirts were for, well, playing football in.
Similarly though, it was not uncommon to wear a rosette to a match in my youth. Would modern fans even know what a rosette was? My first one was a shiny blue and white affair with a silver foil image of a trophy in the middle. It wasn’t home made, though certainly looked it.
Silk scarves, inflatable bananas, rattles, bucket hats, badges and Burberry: all items which immediately define their era. Each one, a mini time capsule.
Some accessories have stood the test of terrace time though. Scarves, for instance. Old codgers and toddlers, still wear scarves to games. The modern, double-sided versions, which declare, I dunno, “Swansea City: Pride of Wales” may look a little more sophisticated than the hand-knitted versions of my youth but the football scarf remains a quintessential feature of any fan’s wardrobe.
For me though, it’s banners.
Flags & Banners.
I reckon the heyday of football banners was probably, like so many other elements of football culture, the 70s. In those days, if you had something to say about your team, you painted a slogan onto a bedsheet, which you then nailed to two broom handles. Everybody did it.
The first banner I recall comes from the 1972 FA Cup Final. It has entered the very lexicon of football.
“Norman Bites Yer Legs” declared some witty Leeds fans. For the rest of his days, the tough tackling Norman Hunter was referred to as Norman “Bites Your Legs” Hunter. In 1975, West Ham reprised the idea with a banner which declared “Billy Bites Your Bum.” Billy Bonds. Didn’t quite have the same impact.
The 1976 European Final took this vexillological dexterity to new heights. Or lows. A giant banner produced in tribute to the great Joey Jones, declared how Joey “made the Swiss Roll, Ate the Frogs’ Legs, now he’s Munching Gladbach.” An entire season chronicled on one almighty bedsheet. Legend has it that the original now hangs in Joey’s garage. Who needs the Louvre eh?
I was more than ready to go along with all this.
We made a banner.
Boy, did we make a banner.
Our contribution to 70s football culture followed all the ancient rules of heraldry, as applied to football banners.
Hand painted: check.
Held aloft on poles: check.
Witty caption: check (a Superman logo occupied the top left hand quarter of the bedsheet – the most sacred part of any flag.)
The banner was launched during the infamous Wales v Scotland encounter at Anfield 77. My mate Gary did the artwork. I supplied the sheet and poles. In traditional Gules (aka hand painted red gloss), it screamed “Cymru Am Byth,” (“Wales for Ever”) beneath a red dragon “passant on a green and white field.” Like a giant celtic coat of arms, complete with “supporters” of leek and daffodil. To this day I have it in my shed. Who needs the Louvre.
We bore our Standard proudly, though it brought little joy on the battle field. Our scarlet clad heroes fell victim to history that fateful night. Joe Jordan dented our hopes. Single Handed. Our hopes were dashed. “Through a scarlet door I watched you slipping away” as the Faces had sung on their wonderful track. “Flags and Banners.”
The world of football banners has evolved from these home-made icons, as TV has brought us the global game. Ticker tape showers from Buenos Aires, the enormous travelling banners of Serie A, the Yellow Wall of Borussia Dortmund’s Westfalenstadion. These guys take things to another level.
One of my favourite encounters with football flag culture, occurred during a feisty encounter between Cardiff City and Swansea City, at the always feisty Ninian Park, in 2009. I watched from the somewhat unfamiliar surroundings of the Family Stand that day. Though any clash between these local rivals is no family fun day.
At one point, perhaps the second half but I could be wrong, I glanced to my left. The Cardiff fans on the enormous “Bob Bank” had unfurled a giant banner. It traveled along a thousand heads, the entire length of this vast, unruly section of the stadium. “Cardiff City,” it screamed in giant letters on a blue background (“field” in heraldic terms.) A Bluebird adorned the banner. Well, it would, wouldn’t it?
The away fans weren’t having it. From their corner of the ground, they responded in style. Unfurling a giant string of, what can only be called “bunting,” the Swansea contingent unveiled a row of large Union Jack flags, strung together in a giant garland. Not Red, White & Blue mind. Swansea folk are traditionally nicknamed “Jacks.” These Union Jacks were therefore Black and White. The impressive garland replicated the Swansea Jack colours.
Well it would, wouldn’t it?
This of course, infuriated the home fans. The Union Flag is not the most popular icon at Cardiff City, especially when customised by the club’s fiercest rivals. The Jacks knew this.
Cue the final instalment then in this trilogy, as the action moved across the stadium to the Lower Grandstand. Home of Cardiff’s top “Boys,” to use the vernacular of those assembled.
The Cardiff Boys reacted to this affront from the away fans by producing, that most Cardiff of images….. the Irish tricolour. Keep Cardiff Irish.
Irish workers had helped turn Cardiff from a small fishing hamlet at the turn of the 19th Century into the coal metropolis it later became and could claim much of the responsibility for making it the city it is today.
It was game set and match to the home fans. A thrilling encounter. You really had to know your stuff though. It had almost been a pleasure to witness. Macabre yet marvellous. Hooliganism by semaphore. The actual game? I think that was a 2-2 draw.
Modern banners have become more like calling cards. Postcards sent from home, announcing the departure points of the senders. Each time I attend an international away game as part of the “Red Wall” of Wales fans, I see many familiar ensigns, announcing arrivals from all over Wales. Bagillt, Tenby and Bala. I have even spotted Wales flags from Fleetwood and Tranmere. The bilingual followers of the Adar Gleison, Wrecsam and Gogledd Jacks make regular appearances. Penybont and others fly the flag on behalf of the Cymru Premier.
The culture continues to evolve. A “Wales, Golf, Madrid” banner held aloft by Gareth Bale etc probably clinched the Welsh Galatico’s move to Spurs. “Eat More Chips, Don't Let Salad Win” declares a famous modern garland. Even “Yes Cymru” banners, promoting Welsh independence, have been at Wales games. Ditto “No Team GB.” Social Media taking the messages to a new audience.
I love the way the trend ebbs and flows. Modern flags are hung from fencing, or draped over seats rather than held aloft on poles but I’m expecting a retro revival any day now. Joe “Bites Your Legs” Allen anyone? “Jesus Saves - but Kieffer nets the Rebound.”
Pass me that tin of paint.
This piece was kindly written for @TFHBs by David Collins - you can follow David on Twitter @DavidCollins29a
©The Football History Boys, 2020
For example, in my football watching teens, nobody wore replica tops to games. Football shirts were for, well, playing football in.
Similarly though, it was not uncommon to wear a rosette to a match in my youth. Would modern fans even know what a rosette was? My first one was a shiny blue and white affair with a silver foil image of a trophy in the middle. It wasn’t home made, though certainly looked it.
Silk scarves, inflatable bananas, rattles, bucket hats, badges and Burberry: all items which immediately define their era. Each one, a mini time capsule.
Some accessories have stood the test of terrace time though. Scarves, for instance. Old codgers and toddlers, still wear scarves to games. The modern, double-sided versions, which declare, I dunno, “Swansea City: Pride of Wales” may look a little more sophisticated than the hand-knitted versions of my youth but the football scarf remains a quintessential feature of any fan’s wardrobe.
For me though, it’s banners.
Flags & Banners.
I reckon the heyday of football banners was probably, like so many other elements of football culture, the 70s. In those days, if you had something to say about your team, you painted a slogan onto a bedsheet, which you then nailed to two broom handles. Everybody did it.
The first banner I recall comes from the 1972 FA Cup Final. It has entered the very lexicon of football.
“Norman Bites Yer Legs” declared some witty Leeds fans. For the rest of his days, the tough tackling Norman Hunter was referred to as Norman “Bites Your Legs” Hunter. In 1975, West Ham reprised the idea with a banner which declared “Billy Bites Your Bum.” Billy Bonds. Didn’t quite have the same impact.
The 1976 European Final took this vexillological dexterity to new heights. Or lows. A giant banner produced in tribute to the great Joey Jones, declared how Joey “made the Swiss Roll, Ate the Frogs’ Legs, now he’s Munching Gladbach.” An entire season chronicled on one almighty bedsheet. Legend has it that the original now hangs in Joey’s garage. Who needs the Louvre eh?
I was more than ready to go along with all this.
We made a banner.
Boy, did we make a banner.
Our contribution to 70s football culture followed all the ancient rules of heraldry, as applied to football banners.
Hand painted: check.
Held aloft on poles: check.
Witty caption: check (a Superman logo occupied the top left hand quarter of the bedsheet – the most sacred part of any flag.)
The banner was launched during the infamous Wales v Scotland encounter at Anfield 77. My mate Gary did the artwork. I supplied the sheet and poles. In traditional Gules (aka hand painted red gloss), it screamed “Cymru Am Byth,” (“Wales for Ever”) beneath a red dragon “passant on a green and white field.” Like a giant celtic coat of arms, complete with “supporters” of leek and daffodil. To this day I have it in my shed. Who needs the Louvre.
We bore our Standard proudly, though it brought little joy on the battle field. Our scarlet clad heroes fell victim to history that fateful night. Joe Jordan dented our hopes. Single Handed. Our hopes were dashed. “Through a scarlet door I watched you slipping away” as the Faces had sung on their wonderful track. “Flags and Banners.”
The world of football banners has evolved from these home-made icons, as TV has brought us the global game. Ticker tape showers from Buenos Aires, the enormous travelling banners of Serie A, the Yellow Wall of Borussia Dortmund’s Westfalenstadion. These guys take things to another level.
One of my favourite encounters with football flag culture, occurred during a feisty encounter between Cardiff City and Swansea City, at the always feisty Ninian Park, in 2009. I watched from the somewhat unfamiliar surroundings of the Family Stand that day. Though any clash between these local rivals is no family fun day.
At one point, perhaps the second half but I could be wrong, I glanced to my left. The Cardiff fans on the enormous “Bob Bank” had unfurled a giant banner. It traveled along a thousand heads, the entire length of this vast, unruly section of the stadium. “Cardiff City,” it screamed in giant letters on a blue background (“field” in heraldic terms.) A Bluebird adorned the banner. Well, it would, wouldn’t it?
The away fans weren’t having it. From their corner of the ground, they responded in style. Unfurling a giant string of, what can only be called “bunting,” the Swansea contingent unveiled a row of large Union Jack flags, strung together in a giant garland. Not Red, White & Blue mind. Swansea folk are traditionally nicknamed “Jacks.” These Union Jacks were therefore Black and White. The impressive garland replicated the Swansea Jack colours.
Well it would, wouldn’t it?
This of course, infuriated the home fans. The Union Flag is not the most popular icon at Cardiff City, especially when customised by the club’s fiercest rivals. The Jacks knew this.
Cue the final instalment then in this trilogy, as the action moved across the stadium to the Lower Grandstand. Home of Cardiff’s top “Boys,” to use the vernacular of those assembled.
The Cardiff Boys reacted to this affront from the away fans by producing, that most Cardiff of images….. the Irish tricolour. Keep Cardiff Irish.
Irish workers had helped turn Cardiff from a small fishing hamlet at the turn of the 19th Century into the coal metropolis it later became and could claim much of the responsibility for making it the city it is today.
It was game set and match to the home fans. A thrilling encounter. You really had to know your stuff though. It had almost been a pleasure to witness. Macabre yet marvellous. Hooliganism by semaphore. The actual game? I think that was a 2-2 draw.
Modern banners have become more like calling cards. Postcards sent from home, announcing the departure points of the senders. Each time I attend an international away game as part of the “Red Wall” of Wales fans, I see many familiar ensigns, announcing arrivals from all over Wales. Bagillt, Tenby and Bala. I have even spotted Wales flags from Fleetwood and Tranmere. The bilingual followers of the Adar Gleison, Wrecsam and Gogledd Jacks make regular appearances. Penybont and others fly the flag on behalf of the Cymru Premier.
The culture continues to evolve. A “Wales, Golf, Madrid” banner held aloft by Gareth Bale etc probably clinched the Welsh Galatico’s move to Spurs. “Eat More Chips, Don't Let Salad Win” declares a famous modern garland. Even “Yes Cymru” banners, promoting Welsh independence, have been at Wales games. Ditto “No Team GB.” Social Media taking the messages to a new audience.
I love the way the trend ebbs and flows. Modern flags are hung from fencing, or draped over seats rather than held aloft on poles but I’m expecting a retro revival any day now. Joe “Bites Your Legs” Allen anyone? “Jesus Saves - but Kieffer nets the Rebound.”
Pass me that tin of paint.
This piece was kindly written for @TFHBs by David Collins - you can follow David on Twitter @DavidCollins29a
©The Football History Boys, 2020
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