Millwall finished in third position in May 1994, safely making the play-offs and with a chance of getting into the Premiership. The team had been playing well all season but had no chance of automatic promotion at the end. But we were confident against a Derby side that had finished way below us, in sixth place.
We got the train up to Derby and had a right good old drink on board. The train was full, with our allocation sold out – we were all in high spirits and thinking about the Premier League. The away leg went without any incidents. No sign of the Derby Lunatic Fringe. We performed really badly and lost 2–0. In fact, we played fucking terribly and were never in the game but never thought it was all over. We could get them back to our place and turn this round.
On the day of the return leg, a few Derby were attacked at Surrey Quays station and took a bit of a hiding. Nothing else happened before the game with everyone too concerned about the match itself. We were having a few beers in The Barnaby with most people trying to be positive.
Twenty minutes gone and we found ourselves 2–0 down, 4–0 on aggregate. This was too much for Millwall fans. It was too much for me. We decided to try and get the game abandoned. It was not like there were any big conferences going on in the stands. We were in the East Lower Stand and saw a couple of people head on to the pitch. A few others also saw them and headed on, too. Someone else spotted them from across the pitch and they made a dash for it. That’s how a pitch invasion happens. Everyone knows that the hope is to get the game abandoned. It was certainly my hope as I jumped over the knee-high barrier. What a way to end the first season at The New Den. Quality. Let’s get this shite abandoned! The first pitch invasion lasted only a few minutes before the police and stewards herded and chased everyone back to their seats. A few stewards had tried to stop people in the first place … sort of. Stewards are for telling people where their seat is, where to have a piss and where to get a pie. They are not going to be heroes on a day like this. They don’t even have to tell people where to sit at Millwall, it has always been buy a ticket and sit wherever you like; that is what most of us had always done.
I was shunted off the pitch and headed back to the East Lower. There were a couple of new faces that had obviously been sat elsewhere before the pitch invasion and then herded into the side I was on. Everyone around the ground knew that was not the end of the matter. The atmosphere was boiling over.
The game was done and dusted and it was inevitable it was going to explode again. Towards the end of the match, it went off again. People were on the pitch. They wanted it all over. And how, because this time the playing surface was covered with ’Wall. One took a swipe at the Derby ’keeper, Taylor. He took a punch to the gut before getting down the tunnel.
When a pitch is completely covered like that there must be thousands milling around on it. Loads, just running around and jumping about. A fucking good laugh if the truth be told. All the players had been taken off, or there were certainly none to be seen in the sea of Millwall in my eyes. It didn’t last for ages. Horses galore. No one wants to get in the way of one of those rampaging beasts and no one wants to get nicked. So the Old Bill restored order and the players came back out. The game was restarted and the last few minutes were played out. Uneventful. Deflated. Dejected. The dream of the Premiership shattered. It finished 3–1 to Derby, 5–1 on aggregate; 5-fucking-1 and without a fight from Millwall on the pitch. Not the Millwall way at all. Could I even be arsed to get to the Derby fans? The fight, stuffing and wind had been knocked out of me for now.
A few of us left just before the end and we headed straight for The Barnaby. The pub was empty as everybody was still in the ground. The only good thing about the whole day was having the bar to ourselves for a while. It soon filled up with many unhappy Millwall faces and we stayed until last knockings. Some of the boys tried to get to the Derby fans. The Old Bill had them well protected once again. No sign of Derby’s Lunatic Fringe in the main car park. A BBC outside location van was smashed up but, after realising the Old Bill would not let them at Derby that night, it fizzled out. Everyone went home completely gutted.
We had dared to dream again with Millwall and believed the hype about the ground move taking us forward. Should have fucking known better. The next day in the papers, we were naturally front and back news: ‘MILLWALL INVADE THE PITCH’, ‘MILLWALL HOOLIGAN TAKES A SWIPE AT THE KEEPER’.
Could not give a shite, me; we were out of the play-offs. Write what the fuck they like about the crowd. We were not getting back to the top flight of English football. And that hurt me a lot more than the swipe at the ’keeper would have hurt him. The first season at The New Den was over.