It’s 8pm at Dens and I realise I’ve been played like a fiddle.
“You know,” my middle boy had said, ‘It would be nice to spend some son-mum time, don’t you think?’
And somehow, within 10 days, we’d been to three Dundee games – a win away to St Johnstone on January 5, draw to second-in-the-league Rangers four days later..
And now, as we stood in the Bobby Cox stand awaiting the Celtic kick-off, I tried to manage expectations against the team with a 13 point lead in the top spot.
“It’s ok mum,’ Chester, 10, said, “We’ll do it.”
He’s been an ardent Dundee fan for all of three weeks – somewhat redressing the leaning towards Dundee United in our household.
The eldest has gone my husband’s way and the youngest is leaning towards United too.
Babs the cat is Dundee and her brother Bruce is on the fence.
To everyone’s utter bewilderment, Chester chose Rangers as his Scottish team a couple of years ago. As one Dundee United supporting dad told him: “I think I’d prefer it if my son supported Dundee.”
No offence to Rangers fans.
I shy away from football here – opinion is for people who know their stuff and saying you support either Dundee team can be polarising – though this is something I bypass given the family split.
But this isn’t about the technicalities of football – the tactics or skills.
It’s about one mum’s realisation that it’s a wonderful thing to do with your child.
I know many mums agree because I saw a surprising amount with the same idea. Like me, many will have been brought up on football, a child skimming the froth off a lager as the men in the family watched a game. Or was that just me?
I’ll be honest – by 8pm, the only place I thought I wanted to be – not least in January, is on the sofa with my pyjamas on.
But by saying yes, a new world opens up. For years, it’s been the same routine – get the boys to their clubs, get home, eat, homework, bed. I’d forgotten there was life after lasagne.
Life at Dens.
For while homework and a hot meal is important, it doesn’t stick in the memory like the sixth minute scorcher from Adewumi against Rangers, Dundee fans erupting in a chorus of delight.
Get me. ‘Scorcher’ eh? Then it comes back to me – once I knew a fair bit.
As a cub news reporter, I’d cover second and third division games around Scotland – from the Blue Brazil to Queen’s Park at their home ground Hampden.
Where did that passion go?
As I looked around Dens, I felt it – the sense that at that moment, there was nowhere I’d rather be.
And that moment, of hugging my son in a game we’d walked into minutes before full of trepidation (‘I don’t know if you want to see a Rangers game’ many had warned. ‘The Rangers fans can be trouble,’ they had said) well, it’s a memory stronger than nine times tables will ever be.
And who needs a warm meal when you’ve got a macaroni pie at half time?
The great thing about kids is they could, as my uncle Dave (a Dee) says, make pals in Beruit – and by half-time Chester was standing with a group of boys, singing away.
That’s another beautiful thing – I can think of no other thing that is as multi-generational and traditional.
Fans from young to vintage were all in attendance.
It brings us together like nothing else.
Passion at Dens spans generations
My grandad would have loved this, I thought. From his flat on the corner of Hindmarsh Avenue, able to see both Tannadice and Dens. Like men of his generation, as a young man going game about to watch both teams. I hoped he could see us.
Of course, mention must be made of United’s success thus far this season. To have two Dundee teams doing well is – for the city and its fans – epic and long-awaited.
In this world of screens and devices, the realisation dawns that some things don’t change – 50 years ago, the young ones would be at the front singing away – their dads and granddads watching on, giving voice to the odd Dundee song and occasional profanity.
And boy do we have something to sing about – and that is down to the players. Carson, Murray, Palmer-Houlden, Tiffoney – names tripping off the tongue in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible two weeks ago.
The beauty is in the relationship between players and fans. Players are our heroes. But it’s reciprocal and in the words of Jock Stein, “Without fans who pay at the turnstile, football is nothing”.
One cannot exist as they are without the other.
Back to the Celtic game. What. A. Game. Almost winning, finally drawing. Another memory banked for thousands on a dreich January night.
No matter the division or result, fans support their team. No matter what changes life brings, your team is always there. But my, isn’t it nice to have something to shout about?
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