Social Scene

You could barely move in there - it’d be rammed, full, bustling, a cattle market. Yet it was wonderful - alive, roaring, buzzing, the atmosphere was great and the beer even better. 

In its heyday, the Social Club at Bootham Crescent was ace.

They say that Public Houses are the heart of the community, and whilst not strictly a ‘pub’ in the traditional sense, the Social was no exception. Whilst the terraces were the beating heart of YCFC on a Saturday afternoon, the hours either side of those 90 minutes belonged in the Social Club. The venue brought folk together over a decent drink - a place where the world was put to rights, glories were toasted, sorrows were drowned and strangers became friends over their common interest of a mediocre footballing side.

In my younger days the Club was divided into two rooms - a bar and the ‘Players Lounge’, though the segregation seemed irrelevant as, regardless of the result, players would frequent both after the game and fraternise amongst supporters without fear of persecution (despite sitting near the foot of the old Division Four). I don’t know if they were obliged to attend, though even if they were I’d imagine many would have been happy to do so regardless, such was the pull of the place. As a child, meeting the players at close quarters was enthralling, even with the bizarrely alluring aroma of stale fags and Carlsberg Export. 

The smaller bar would later be taken over by the expansion of the Club Shop, reducing the footprint of the establishment by around a third. It did little to deter the clientele, though it may have explained the consistent deep density of drinkers- there were likely 300+ people in a place with a capacity of maybe 150. 

After occasional visits as a youngster in the 90s, either after games with my parents or for Junior Red Club Nights, I became a regular fixture in the Club as I came of drinking age. By now I’d come to the realisation that City were, and would likely perpetually be, shite and following YCFC was 99% a social endeavour. You cared, were emotionally invested and longed for success, but attended just as much to see mates as to actually watch the football. 

Under the stewardship of Club stalwart Don Nixon - who sadly passed last year - the Social Club thrived. Charming, entertaining and eternally endearing, he’d hold court with patrons, the 6ft greying figure hunched over the end of the bar with a cig between fingers and guffawing with one of his many classic catchphrases - “a different class my son” a personal favourite.

If you were a regular then you were a friend - I lost count of the times I’d be stood at the bar having drank half my pint, turned away for a few seconds, only for the glass to have been magically refilled as Don shuffled away with a smirk and a wink. “Just topped that up a bit for you son”.

In short, Don was THE Don. 

Retirement eventually beckoned and Nixon handed over the keys to Julie Arthur who, with her small team, furthered the success as the Club continued to be packed to the rafters on a matchday. She was later succeeded by the tenure of Dave Ashford as the club was rebranded ‘Pitchside’ and he miraculously turned a sports Social Club into an award winning establishment as it was bestowed the title of CAMRA Spring Pub Of The Season 2014. As well as the usual brands you’d associate with a sports clubhouse, Dave branched out with a number of craft ales, each on hand-pulled or draught, would host regular Beer Festivals and, for a brief period would serve pie and pea suppers from a makeshift hatch at the side of the bar.

Pitchside somehow appeared even busier than before - its success expanded beyond matchdays, becoming a community venue - open throughout the week and attracting punters outside of the football fraternity. It was a genuine, bonafide asset for City supporters -  one of the few remaining enjoyable aspects of following City, and something we could be proud of.

Over the years the Social provided the backdrop to the most turbulent times in our history - many a pint was poured whilst strategizing the Save City campaign, followed by the  ‘Hands Off Bootham Crescent’ crusade - both from which we emerged, at least somewhat, victorious. Yet it was the battle we ourselves were unable to fight - relegation from the football league (the first time) that was lost. It was, at the time, an unprecedented low. 

The football had always been shit, we’d just reached a previously uncharted level of atrocity this time. But as always, following our beloved football club was rarely about football, and despite our non-league status, the masses still gathered in great numbers at the bar come matchday. The heart may have been ripped from YCFC but its soul lived on in the friendships, exchanges and unity shared amongst its fanbase over a beer each week.

But then one day it all changed. 

Without delving into the politics of the episode, the powers-that-be saw Pitchside’s success, decided Dave’s face didn’t fit and unceremoniously ousted him from his position. It was textbook YCFC at the time and, as was the case with every aspect of the rotten regime - it was handled with despicable disregard for the supporters. 

It was a big thing for me, not so much the act itself but more so the principle of the matter. It was the epitome of cutting off your nose to spite your face. They’d already callously taken everything that was good and special about the club, one asset (literal or figurative) at a time, and cast it aside for no discernible reason whatsoever. As with the countless loathsome acts that came before (and would follow), they didn’t gain anything from the massacre, the rationale seemingly being a simple case of “because we can”.

The void between the club and its supporters grew, communication and relationships corroded to an even greater depth, but hey - following City is all about the Social side right? 

It was as though the board had finally realised this themselves and thought, “oh, well we’re going to take that away too, let’s really hit the bastards where it hurts”.

The Social lay unoccupied for a while before it was outsourced to an external catering company with dire, but entirely predictable results. Zero-hours contract staff, with zero desire and with zero experience, were deployed under the authority of several grossly ignorant, vile supervisors. Gone were the array of unique guest ales, replaced with a bog standard line-up - and even their availability was a lottery - they appeared to neglect the actual act of ordering stock and would often be without. 

I’m somewhat partial to a Cider but they refused to feature a draught option, and I was somewhat disinclined to pay £6 for a room-temperature can of Magners. Keep in mind this was the best part of a decade ago, so is basically the equivalent of asking £12 for a 500ml warm tin today. We gave it a few chances but were soon discouraged for good when, laughing at the absurdity of them running out of ALL cask/draught 30 minutes after opening, despite the clientele being in single figures, we were told to ‘f**k off if you don’t like it’ by the mutant serving behind the bar.

We weren’t alone in our retreat, and as the final surviving positive aspect of the Club plummeted into a desolate, depressing hovel, every last one of the regular inhabitants upped sticks and moved on. What became of the Social between our defection and Bootham Crescent’s graceless, covid-induced demise? I’ve no idea, nor did I care, the damage was already done.

The Social Club debacle was just another notch in the long list of outrageously imperious, arrogant and senseless acts by the club during that time, none for which they seemingly were ever held accountable. Off the pitch matters were once so bad that I grew astounded that City were actually capable of even hosting games. I imagine a great deal of administration, procedure and red tape to be involved in just putting on a fixture - duties which, given their track record, seemed beyond a callous, inept regimentation seemingly hell bent on self destruction.

The club upset the wrong people. Families and floating supporters may be the ‘target audience’ but for too long the regime bit the hand that fed them. The guaranteed income. Those with decades of service behind them, the die-hards, the ever-presents. They’d been through thick and thin, travelled the width and breadth, and had always done so without question. YCFC was in their veins and passion dictated following City to be an obligation, a case of ‘how’ they’d get to games rather than ‘if’. 

Some walked away altogether, whilst others now attend in a heavily condensed fashion, but none's absence can be attributed to the level of football on display. As I say, City have always been shit, they just grew tired of being treated like shit, and that sense of ‘obligation’ has long since been obliterated. 

The club moved on, left Bootham Crescent (Covid probably doing them a favour as any grand ‘farewell’ would have undoubtedly proved a shambles), and found a new home in a windy, soulless block on a retail park. I understand why it had to happen, and the new place has grown on me a little, but the atmosphere and aura of BC has yet to transition the three miles to Monks Cross.

 “If I hadn’t seen such riches, I could live with being poor”. Ironic, given the crumbling BC and how much the LNER must have cost.

We were promised the earth at the new ground - the facilities would be “world class”, with the best interests of the supporter at the forefront,  but, as with all things York City, it was either executed horrendously, or not at all. Notoriously unreliable transport from the City Centre, paired with the ‘official’ drinking options of a laughable, outdoor FanZone (an embarrassing term given its anything but) serving slurry in plastic glasses at £6 a pop, and a lounge which charges a levy just to admit entry, have led to the abhorrent reality of a Bowling Alley bar being the most favourable option for a drink before the game. 

It’s as though the whole thing just wasn’t thought through. Imagine that. Or perhaps they just don’t care.

Some will question the validity of my frustration - is having a drink really that important? But it’s not alcohol (or lack of) that fuels the fire, but more the desire for a communal venue in which folk can gather, share and converse. Somewhere you can take the kids to escape the sub-zero temperatures on a February night. Let’s not forget the financial potential either. There’s a reason every (other) outfit has a similar facility, that pubs and community venues are synonymous with football. We’ve seen it done successfully at other clubs with a lesser budget and fan base which begs the question ‘is it really that difficult’? 

Yet like every other positive aspect of watching City, the pre-match pint has been pillaged and ravaged beyond recognition and negligently replaced with a substandard substitution that borders on insulting. 

The fury, anger and disdain at the continued downfall of York City is rapidly deteriorating into something far more detrimental to the future of our club. 

Apathy. 

Whilst the club are enjoying an influx of new supporters in our early tenancy at the LNER, that element of the support will grow older themselves, their naivety will abandon them and they’ll begin to question why they’re paying a hefty tariff just to be treated like second class citizens. I cherish memories of following City as a child, and it’s the affection nurtured in those first years that have kept me coming back over three decades later. But if you’ve systematically driven today’s parents away from the club, despite their long-standing emotional and financial backing, then they’re hardly likely to expose their offspring to the same punishment.

I genuinely don’t blame people for walking away, and can only hope that I too don’t eventually lose the last remaining ounce of faith that keeps me connected. Like so many others I simply pine for the day it all comes right again, when we once more follow a conventional, accountable and legitimate professional club. The football doesn't even have to be decent - a bit of stability, competence and mutual respect would be sufficient.

Unfortunately, it appears we may be waiting a while.