Life as an ITFC supporter has its ups and downs. For more than 40 years, John Nice has been there for his beloved Tractor Boys. For him, like many other fans, it’s about so much more than just the football.
Some people are almost on the pitch. It might be all over. It’s just about to be...
It’s the start of May 2024 at Portman Road - and Ipswich Town are on the brink of promotion. I turn to my mum.
'Shall we go on the pitch, Mum – just like we did in 1992?'
No, dear,' she says. 'We’re not allowed – we will get banned.' So, could I convince her? You’ll have to wait and see.
This article is all about my love for Ipswich Town Football Club. I could, literally, write a book about this. In fact, I have written a children’s book called Bobby and the Magic Tractor about how Sir Bobby flew in and made us great again. I’m certainly no Charles Dickens, but I hope people like it.
'Speaking of Dickens, he famously wrote ‘It was the best of times - and it was the worst of times’ in A Tale of Two Cities. That just about sums up the experiences I've had watching my beloved Ipswich.
As it stands, we have just got back to the big-time swagger of the Premier League. Prior to this recent success, it’s been a right old slog. But I’d rather have a moment (or moments) of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.
And that is why I love Ipswich Town. For all the frustration, they sometimes pull it out the bag.
So, how did the love start? Unfortunately, there was an element of sadness. In the late seventies, my brother Mark suddenly passed away of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, or cot death as it was called then. The comfort bubble of a normal family doing everyday things was turned on its head.
My sister, Liz, and I were only eight and five at the time, too young to know what was really going on. My aunt Alison, or Bods as we call her, and uncle Clive picked up on the fact that a distraction was perhaps the best way forward for everyone.
Therefore, on Saturday April 12, 1980, Bods and Clive took us to Portman Road for the very first time. We sat right by the corner flag near the North Stand. I remember Alan Brazil taking a corner in front of us.
For some reason, a jolly Coventry fan was sitting behind us giving us what folk in football refer to as ‘banter’. His cheerful demeanour soon evaporated as Ipswich ended up winning 3-0.
Reflecting on the experience after the game, it was clear, my sister and I were hooked. We had an outlet for the sorrow of our brother’s passing and our parents had a chance to process it.
Our manager at the time, Sir Bobby Robson, came up with a classic football quote, which explains our first game. I'll paraphrase it. Liz and I ‘gawped at that hallowed stretch of turf beneath us and, without being able to do a thing about it, we fell in love.’
This was the era when the Tractor Boys were in full ploughing mode. Sir Bobby was our admiral and we had a team full of internationals sailing towards success.
After our first game, we graduated to Churchman’s stand, now the Sir Alf Ramsey stand. We took a Greene King beer crate to stand on and watched the magic unfold.
Certain things stick in the memory. Arnold Muhren scoring. The famously left-footed player smashed one in with his right foot. I remember in the newspaper he said the only other time he used his right foot was when he drove his car. I also recall Kenny Dalglish scoring an amazing goal for Liverpool, virtually from the corner flag.
The season we first experienced was 1980/81. What a year that was, but what an even more special year it could have been. As it was, we ended up winning the UEFA cup.
It was before games were on television much and I listened to the final on the wireless at the top of the stairs at home in Bury St Edmunds. It was way after bedtime, but I gripped the radio to my ear and listened to us almost throw it away. We just about held on and European glory happened.
Winning seemed normal; then Sir Bobby left for national service with England, we built a stand, players left, and a gradual demise set in. Bobby Ferguson came in and, without the Robson’s magic touch, we were relegated.
We thought we would stay up when we beat Oxford 2-1 in 1986 with a last-minute winner by Ian Atkins, sending their keeper, Alan Judge, the wrong way. But alas. it wasn’t enough and the pure ecstasy of that moment ended in second tier football.
Then John Duncan took over and Liz and I started going on our own, paying less than £1, still in Churchman’s. From Duncan to Lyall we got a promotion season and we finally graduated to the North Stand.
I sometimes went on my own as Liz jetted off to university, and that's when my mum started going.
It would be easy to ramble on, recapping season after season, watching those boys in blue, but this article is all about why I love Ipswich Town. It’s hard to sum it up, really.
I love seeing my parents there and Dad is now a season ticket holder. I like the occasion. I enjoy the pints at half time. I adore talking to my amazing brother, Jimmy, who hates football, as he listens intently to my reflections because he knows how much I love the club.
In the 1991/92 promotion season, we had a spirit a bit like the team today. There was a particular roller coaster match against Newcastle at home when Kevin Keegan was in charge. The final score was 3-2; I lost about £4 in change – and sweat – and broke a pair of sunglasses in the madness that took place on that sunny day when we put Keegan’s men to the sword.
The early 90s saw me move up north to university, so I looked on from afar, but I was in Suffolk again when George Burley took us to the Premier League big time. Wembley was a special day. My mum was now a regular; normally very reserved, there were some choice words from her directed at the linesman that day after a decision didn’t go our way.
But the emotion just gets to you sometimes and after that game I slept like a baby; it was too much to comprehend.
I was in London during the Burley Premier years but ended up getting a season ticket when I came back to Suffolk for the Joe Royle era. Then Magilton, Keane, Jewell, Big Mick, a series of Pauls... before Kieran McKenna stepped in to save us. At the time of writing, McKenna may be leaving; let’s hope he doesn’t.
Away days with Josh, Dan and Craig are incredible, feeling proud to represent our club in other parts of the UK, getting the train with Michael and Cookie. Having a debrief after the game with Tom, Ollie, Ready and others. Talking to strangers who see you wearing club colours.
Seeing the pitch before a game. Celebrating a goal by kissing Mum on the top of her head. Embracing a loved one... and sometimes a complete stranger. Standing side by side with my sister feeling a sense of belonging to something that you can’t quite comprehend.
But perhaps most importantly, I love the fact this all connects me to my brother Mark. He was only three months old when he died; it was a hard thing to deal with and still is.
Yet for all the pain, in some ways, if it wasn’t for him I might not have ended up going to Portman Road. Around that time my neighbour, Eddie, was trying convince me to support Arsenal. For whatever reason, it happened; I chose Ipswich and Ipswich chose me.
So, that conversation with my mum about going on the pitch as Ipswich clinched promotion against Huddersfield... I eventually convinced her to do it. Please don’t ban us, ITFC.
We gingerly strolled on to the hallowed turf for a photo in front of the Sir Bobby Robson stand. It was a moment of elation. Mum and I were there in 1992, we were at Wembley in 2001 when she cursed at the linesman. In 2024 we completed our hat-trick.
As we gently strolled off, arm in arm, apologising to stewards, I looked skywards and gave a little smile to the heavens. If it hadn’t been for Mark, moments of indescribable happiness with people you love the most might never have happened.
So, thank you my baby brother. It was so painful when you left us, but somehow you’ve helped to give our family so much joy.
lullabytrust.org.uk
