Cliftonville FC - Belfast Football

[GuyGermanLatic]

Makes a bit of a change from the old Berlin stuff, no? So here's another little report I thought I'd throw up from my visit to a football match in North Belfast between the infamous Cliftonville and the rather not-so-infamous Portadown. I must admit, Northern Ireland really is a lovely place and the people here have been surprisingly friendly whichever area we went to -- despite the English accents. It's a very confusing place even to the most travelled of people, with parts of the city covered in red, white and blue (curbs and post boxes painted) with union jacks and Ulster banners flying from -- quite literally -- every lamppost in sight to tricolours flying from tower blocks and murals of IRA hunger strikers just around the corner.

 

Regardless of the past, it's a great place to visit and if you're interested in its past I definitely recommend you go there for the craic. So, after a few months delay, enjoy my little report on Belfast football (you'd be surprised how different it can be despite the difference).

 

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When you first land in Belfast you'd honestly think easyJet have just robbed you of 50 quid to fly you around for 30 minutes just to land back in Manchester again. If Oldham had fewer houses and more open fields, it'd reflect Northern Irish towns perfectly. Driving from the Interntional airport -- located an absolute treck from the city itself -- you pass through every town and village in Ulster it feels, so small that by the time you figure how to pronounce the road you're going down you're in the next one already.

 

The city itself, at least the centre, reflects a small Manchester. The old mixed with the new, aiming towards a new start. Of course, will a population closer to Oldham's, the Northern Irish capital isn't as big as you might first presume. You could easily get from top to bottom walking within an hour meaning the population is heavily concentrated -- a factor which didn't help during The Troubles.

 

After doing all the tours, seeing the Shankill and the Falls, looking at UVF murals and visiting the IRA memorial it was time to get to business: football. There were a few matches on that day but we thought we'd play it cheeky and go a bit more daring. We weren't too keen on seeing anything too low-standard so we settled on a sore thumb: Cliftonville FC. Cliftonville is located in North Belfast and is renowned for being a team with a community which proudly regards itself as "Catholic" and "Irish" -- perhaps the only in the NI Premiership. Controversary of course surrounds the club but, at the end of the day, Cliftonville is a football club like any other. Sectarianism is still a part of life here, as I soon learnt, and Cliftonville's latest response to fans singing sectarian songs against them was simply "We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!"

 

Cliftonville made it two league wins in-a-row last season managing to clinch the title in the last couple of games. It's a big step forward for them and a big leap for the Irish community. The club's badge entails a shamrock too indentifying them from the rest, most of which other teams in the NI leagues tend to play in blue, white and red.

 

We finished our pints and headed off up the Cliftonville Road to the ground. The sun was shining, the traffic was strangely quiet but the police vans were, as usual, in full force (at least it seemed that way to us). In Northern Ireland it seems they still use the vans which were bobbing around during the Troubles only now they've been repainted with the police livery instead of that beautiful shade of concrete:

 

 

Finally figuring out which side street took you to the ground after first wandering into a randomly placed lake full of swans -- swans! -- we found our way to the ground. The street was topped with old terrace houses and it seemed as if the ground had been built by the proper working class for the working class in the middle of this red-brick wonderland -- love it. It had some real character about it from the outside. Okay, it was no Wembley, but it felt as if you were really at a football match and not just visiting the SportsDirectJDMcDonalds.com.uk.org Arena Stadium, as is nowadays becoming quite common in English football.

 

 

What we all found a little strange was just how quiet the roads were. The above photo was taken about 30 minutes before kick off and besides the two seen in front of us, not a single person was behind us, despite the yellow parking cones being dotted all the way up the street. It really added to the community feel, making you realise people who went to watch Cliftonville lived quite literally around the corner from the ground. There was no coming from another part of Belfast or day trippers - besides us - because Belfast is built on close-knitt communities.

 

 

Under the main stand we found a typical supporters bar packed to the brim with home fans waiting for kick-off. Everyone was drinking, have a good time and ready to see if Cliftonville could edge back to the top. What we found a little strange was, purely due to the place we were in, the constant reminder of where you were. It was hard not to catch in the corner of your eye a glimpse of a tricolour on someone's shirt or something Irish-related. It highlighted the proud mentality of the fans and offered a glimpse into what the place has been through. The bar, as mentioned, was quaint. The walls covered in shirts and Sky Sports-related toss, offering a nice little reminder that despite the history of the country, football had remained football. It was unable to control the sport, control what we refer to as "the beautiful game."

 

Another little thing I noticed was the amount of kids and adults were Manchester United or Liverpool shirts. If anyone thinks derby day in Manchester fills the city with United shirts then United must have won the World Cup and the Euros here -- plenty of 'em!

 

The game got underway and was surprisingly balanced. Portadown's fans could be seen across the way in the away end in the cold but surprisingly bright Autumn sun. A relatively small but dedicated following, of course. They had a few Union Jacks strung up too across the open terrace. It really makes you reflect seeing that symbol here doesn't mean a bunch of British fans travelling away representing that team but rather we are British and we are Protestant. It sort of makes you feel foreign despite the status of the country and how close it is to England. It has a whole new meaning, one most English people are oblivious to and could probably be only understood by being born there, at least I assume.

 

 

The style of play was okay and by 60 minutes into the game Cliftonville had settled a nice 2-0 lead despite not appearing to be the leading team in the game. Portadown game at them with chance after chance but, as many people had told me there, the standard of football isn't exactly that of the Champions' League. The mention of so many Premier League shirts suddenly became clear and the fact many people turn to Celtic or Rangers as their no. 1 team became apparent. The main stand, despite appearing a bit shody to some, had real character, I thought. It was like a minature version of Boundary Park's main stand, come to think of it. The upper tier was sadly closed due to the attendance expected for the match but it did look like it'd seen much better days.

 

The stand full of fans was a newer stand designed for families especially. It had a very friendly atmosphere with people there genuinely interested in what was happening on the pitch. A small stall was set up at the gate run by a local and everyone seemed to know one another, which was a nice surprise and always reminsant of better times, somehow.

 

As the score remained unchanged and the sun began to set on this strange wee city, I decided to call it a day leaving earlier than usual. As much as we enjoyed the trip, the locals and the football we never really felt like we fitted into the scene when we were there. It's complicated and you can see how what used to be such troubling times is going through another phase -- one which can't be resolved through armed conflict or words but time itself.

 

A big thanks to all the readers and I recommend a visit to the city any day. Great history, great people, great beer/cider and great craic!

[leeslover]

It is pretty much a local game for local people over there, it's either Sky, Liverpool, Manchester or London. I've never seen a live match over there in maybe 30+ visits. Interesting write up.

[OAFCM35]

I know the Irish league play a lot of fixtures on Friday nights to avoid clashing with big games on sky not sure if they do that in Northern Ireland?

Edited November 16, 2014 by OAFCM35