By: Hibernian Media on 16 Sep, 2019 16:10
Hibernian supporter Duncan McKay is a key contributor to BBC Scotland’s popular Scottish Football chat show, A View From The Terrace.
This first-person piece was originally written for their new weekly newsletter, A View From A View From The Terrace.
We think it’ll strike a chord with a lot of Hibees.
What is now familiar was once exotic.
Venturing down Montgomery Street in the car to find a parking space next to the Royal Mail depot.
This being Edinburgh, of course, it’s now flats.
Locking the car, fixing the scarf and we’re off.
I’ve no idea where we’re going – trying to keep pace with my Dad as he marches on Brunswick Road.
We turn on to Easter Road and it’s busier. There’s a frisson.
Something exciting is happening around here.
Pass over the railway bridge where trains don’t run any longer.
A quid is exchanged, and the programme is duly purchased.
How else can you prove to your uninterested schoolmates that you saw a real, live football game?
Skipping along Albion Road, the crowd gets thicker.
People walking down the middle of the road. Gents relieving themselves against walls.
All these things you were warned not to do at school.
What is this lawlessness? Why is it scary and exciting?
A brick wall with a small gap with some sort of contraption faces you.
You push through and you’re faced with another wall.
Turn right and you find yourself confronted by a flight of stairs.
In my mind they are never-ending and that’s how it felt to six-year-old me.
What I wouldn’t give to experience that climb for the first time once again.
Clambering up the steps, I haven’t been this excited since Disney On Ice came to Ingliston.
This is where the Hibs play.
My heroes who strut around a ground I’ve only seen on television.
And suddenly we’re at the top. There it is. Stretched out in all its glory.
There’s too much to take in. What to focus on?
The benches lined up in front of me painted Hibs green?
The players warming up on the green sward in front of those benches?
The small pocket of travelling Glaswegians in their yellow and red scarves at the opposite end?
Or what about the looming presence of Arthur’s Seat behind them, looking down on the ground benignly?
The game? Irrelevant.
A second home has been found.
One that like your family dwelling will see you at your best. And your worst.
This’ll do for me.