No. 89: John Smith's Stadium [Huddersfield Town]

Saturday, 27th February 2016
Huddersfield Town v. Ipswich Town [Championship] 0-1

Earlier this season I took my Dad back to his hometown of Mansfield on one of my 92 trips. This weekend, it was my Huddersfield-born mother's turn to show me her roots. And after she'd sorted them out at the hairdresser's we drove up to Huddersfield with my dad and the wife in tow.

It's a long old drive up the M1 to Huddersfield - a drive I remember very well making as a child to visit grandparents in 'The North' in the 1980s and early 1990s. Turning onto the A637 at Junction 38 was always when the bland monotony of the motorway became Yorkshire for me, and it still is.

The View of Huddersfield Town from atop Castle Hill.

Dry stone walls instantly appear, framing expansive vistas across steep-sided green fields, and the dark stone, soot-stained slate tiled houses clinging bleakly to the edge of the Pennines. It always felt desolate, grey and cold, and yet somewhat warming inside in its unfamiliar familiarity.

Victoria Tower & Armada Beacon.
Inset: Tower Cornerstone

There was only one place to start really, and that was a drive up Castle Hill for a view over the town so familiar and yet so different to me.

Visible from much of the town itself, steep and windswept Castle Hill and its Victoria Tower stand sentinel over this corner of West Yorkshire.

The tower was built in 1897 to mark the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria's reign, and used to sit atop Castle Hill alongside an isolated pub-hotel that I remember sheltering in from the wind on many a family trip up the hill after my pestering to go up there.

Sadly, the pub is now gone - torn down in 2005 after the council landowners got into a dispute with the leaseholders over their renovations of the original early 19th century structure. Bit of a shame to tear the whole lot down, I'd have thought.

Today, you wouldn't even know there had been a hotel up there, and the tower looks a bit lonely.

By now the voyagers were famished and I had been informed by all that there was only one food source good enough for the occasion. In fact, my mum said the only reason she'd agreed to come up was to have some proper Yorkshire fish and chips.

Even the most staunchly patriotic southerner has to have some grudging respect for the northern chippy and its far superior take on the British classic of fish, chips and mushy peas. Oh, and 'bits' of course - known as scraps in other parts of the North, Huddersfielders cling to their uniqueness in calling the small crunchy left-over pieces of fried batter 'bits'.

I'm not sure what it is about the frying process up here that makes them so delicious, but my mother reckons it's because they still fry everything in beef dripping rather than oil. I couldn't confirm whether this was true or not - but they certainly have a distinct, delicious and extra crispy batter in "Olde England Fisheries" in Huddersfield town centre that floors anything down south.

The George Hotel, Huddersfield. Inset: Mum & Dad.

After that, we hauled our batter-filled bellies to St George's Square, surrounded by beautiful 19th century civic buildings that betray the wealth that the textile mills brought to this town in previous centuries. None more beautiful than the George Hotel, built in 1851 with an Italianate classical facade, and where my mum and dad had their wedding reception when they worked in this historic establishment in 1977.

Sadly it's been closed since 2013, so our original plan to stay here for the weekend was scuppered. This hotel has enormous significance to a sport for men with odd-shaped balls, as it was in the George in 1895 that Rugby League was birthed, when clubs voted to break with the Rugby Football Union.

I'm not particularly interested in either form of the cauliflower ear-making cuddle-fest, but it's still a shame somewhere playing such an important part in the origins of a sport is standing derelict. It's also where my mum and dad got married, so that's even more of a reason for someone to re-open it, please.

On the other side of St George's Square is one of the most impressive train stations in the country, and in front of it a statue of Huddersfield's most famous son, former Prime Minister Harold Wilson.

St George's Square, Huddersfield. Inset: Harold Wilson Statue.

On either wing of the impressive main facade, with its corinthian columned portico (a railway frontage described by John Betjeman as 'the most splendid in England'), are two pubs. The one on the left as you look at it is The Head of Steam and well worth a visit if you like your beers, or your railway memorabilia. If you are a train-spotting CAMRA member, you'll probably mess yourself.

Head of Steam Pub, Huddersfield. CAMRA-tastic.

We had a few welcome beers in here, warming up out of the crisp, chilly Yorkshire February afternoon, and allowing our bodies to process the obscene amount of batter we'd just consumed.

Our hotel was a 5-minute walk beyond the inner ring road from here, so we checked in and chilled out, before hitting Huddersfield for a night on the tiles. To be honest, it was a bit of a struggle as we were all suffering from a severe bout of post-prandial torpor. In our first stop, another great ale house called The Sportsman, I managed a pint of an unusual salted, smoked maple ale from Yorkshire based Bad Seed Brewery.

But by the time we ended up in the pumping, loud and lairy Voda Lounge to join the usual Friday night revellers starting their weekend out on the town, I think we realised the night was over and retreated back to the hotel.

My Grandparents' old House, Crossland Moor. Ginnel at left.

Starting early the next day, we went on a drive out to find the house my mum grew up in just up the road in the Huddersfield suburb of Crossland Moor. A traditional 'back-to-back' terrace with a connecting covered passageway, or 'ginnel' so the houses at the back can access the road at the front - this house was the one I remember visiting my Grandparents in as a child.

Today, it was on the market for sale, and for a cool £80k I could own this two-bed terrace in Huddersfield that my Grandparents bought in the 1960s for about £500.

We had a quick drive around a few other of my mum's old haunts including her school Royds Hall (also Harold Wilson's alma mater), about 4 miles away that she used to have to walk home from because she'd spent her bus money on a pineapple ice cream from Dixons Milk Ices. Sadly, it was February and temperatures were struggling to push above freezing, so we couldn't partake of the Huddersfield tradition of a Dixons.

Holmfirth: Last of the Summer Wine Country.

With a few more hours to kill before the game, we drove over to the nearby small town of Holmfirth, a pretty little place on the river made famous by the long-running BBC sitcom, Last of the Summer Wine. I'm sure it was was hilarious in its 1920s heyday or whenever it was it started, but for me it always seemed well beyond its sell-by date as I was growing up.

It also was part of a regular Sunday night TV line-up including Songs of Praise and Antiques Roadshow that reminds me of sitting through them with gritted teeth procrastinating doing the homework that had to be handed in Monday morning.

Despite my personal dislike of LotSW, it was immensely popular, ran for 37 years and Holmfirth still draws a tourist crowd to see where Compo tried to get into Nora Batty's wrinkled stockings, or where the three pensioners went uphill and down dale in a bathtub, or whatever unlikely japes the old loons got up to.

Toasted Teacake & a Cuppa. 'Aaahh'!

We popped into the Wrinkled Stocking Tearoom and had another Yorkshire classic - a toasted teacake and a cup of tea. On a frosty February day, there is nothing that'll make you exhale a contented 'ah' more than a freshly brewed cuppa in a Yorkshire tearoom.

I left family 'aah'-ing away in Holmfirth and headed back to Huddersfield for the main reason for the visit - the afternoon's game with Ipswich and my 89th current Football League ground.

John Smith's Stadium, Huddersfield.

The currently-named John Smith's Stadium (previously the Galpharm, and before that the Alfred MacAlpine) sits a mile north-east of the town centre, just yards away from where their previous Leeds Road home had been until their move to the purpose-built multi-sports facility back in 1994.
As one of the first 'new generation' of stadiums built in the early 90s, it's starting to show some expected wear and tear 22 years later, but it's still a pretty impressive and actually rather characterful ground I kinda liked.

All four stands feature a unique curved cantilevered design, converging in the open corners in free-standing anchored poles of concrete, between which the voyeur can glimpse a tantalising section of the pitch. Although not quite enough to make viewing the game from this vantage worthwhile.

The ground is also partially built into a natural bank behind it, with a densely wooded hill directly behind making a full circuit of the ground impossible to all but a committed adventurer. I know because I got halfway around the back before realising the muddy trail I'd been following petered out into nothing. The discarded discount cider bottles and novelty balloons here probably meant the trail was most widely used by bored teenagers and unadventurous doggers.

The Fantastic Media (North) Stand, Huddersfield's John Smith's Stadium.

I managed to re-trace my steps before something Blair Witchy happened to me, and took my place in the two-tiered Fantastic Media Stand at the North end of the ground. I was right at the front of the top tier and this was one of the steepest stands I've ever been in - feeling almost vertiginous every time I had to stand up to let someone file past me.

Looking towards the South Stand and Town Centre Behind it.

The away fans were housed opposite with the town centre visible to me behind the stand, and they had travelled in good number from Suffolk. Alongside them in the same stand were a very vocal group of fans who have made it their aim to make the John Smith's match day experience more vibrant and colourful. They are known as the North Stand Loyals and bring with them the usual plethora of Ultras waving flags and songs involving bouncing around a lot.

Ignoring the lack of loyalty to the North Stand that betrays their name a bit, fan initiatives like this are so important to the game these days and they certainly created a good amount of noise and atmosphere. And bouncing.

One of the faces on flags I recognised was that of Herbert Chapman, who built the team that won the Terriers three successive Division One titles from 1924-1926, the first time it had ever been done. Although by the time of that record-breaking third title, Chapman had moved on to manage Arsenal, where he went on to found their first success, but died of pneumonia half-way through Arsenal's 2nd title in a row in 1934.

Arsenal also went on to win a third straight title in 1935 - so Chapman has the unique honour of being the guiding hand in two separate clubs winning three titles in a row, even though he never got to see both through to fruition.


Huddersfield rightly so cling to that historic triple, their club badge featuring three stars to represent the triumphs.

In honour of Chapman pioneering the use of tactics in football, I munched through a box of on-brand 'Town Tactics' during the game and gave Chapman's flag a little salute of respect as I did.

Unfortunately, I can't see Huddersfield repeating that 1920s success anytime soon on this afternoon's showing. The programme was billing the new, exciting style of play that the new manager has introduced to the team as the 'Wagner Revolution'.

David Wagner is a German with American parentage, qualifying him to have played for the US national side, and before his appointment in November 2015 at Huddersfield was the coach of Borussia Dortmund's reserve team. He's certainly brought an intricate style of possession play football, building from the back and working the ball forward and they certainly created a whole heap of chances and had much the more possession.

Problem is, without a front line who can take those chances, you end up not winning games. According to the post-match stats, Huddersfield had 67% of the possession and 27 shots to Ipswich's 7. Sadly, 22 of those shots weren't finding the target, and it took Ipswich's only one that did find it to win the game.

1st Half: Huddersfield put Pressure on Ipswich Goal.

A lesson perhaps in style not always triumphing over substance, and they'll need a bit more substance if they want to ensure a mediocre mid-table finish doesn't slip into a brown-trousered relegation panic come the start of May. That would certainly be one way to bring a revolution to Huddersfield.

Still, you have to admire a man who wants to try and play football - and Huddersfield certainly did that. Off the field, it would appear the club are also trying to make waves and convince lapsed fans to come back in droves.

East Stand, John Smith's Stadium, Huddersfield.

Next season, the first 10,000 season tickets in any part of the John Smith's Stadium will be just £179. That's a pretty decent offer for Championship football, and perhaps in 2016-17, with increased crowds and a few off-season signings to strengthen his squad, the rest of the Football League could also be hailing the Wagner Revolution?

Stranger things have happened. As someone with a strong family connection and warm feelings towards the town, I hope it does.

The second night in Huddersfield was a bit more of an event. We took up a recommendation from the night before on the best pub in town and headed to the Rat & Ratchet Brew Pub on Chapel Hill - a marvellous little place that brews its own beer as well as serving a fine selection of other ales. This pub has won countless awards and its on-site brewed White Rat is something to try.

We also ended up chatting for hours to the middle-aged couple next to us about Huddersfield and our little pilgrimage, and had a lot of fun making new friends in this wonderful hostelry. My mum has been saying it for decades, but people are a lot more outgoing and friendly 'up North' than they are down South. Just like the superior fish and chips, it's an unwelcome fact to all Southerners alike.

Saying that though, their weather is fucking shit, isn't it? 2-1 to the North.

Someone else's Shield, Kabana.

Another staple of any trip North for me is also a decent curry. However, that's usually a staple of any trip anywhere for me, but I wasn't missing out this weekend.

We'd been recommended a place called Kabana, a Pakistani run place in town that did a special dish called a 'shield' or 'Tawa', which is basically a selection of your curries and starters on a metal sharing platter the size of a dustbin lid placed in the centre of the table, surrounded by breads. It looked amazing.


Sadly, Kabana was absolutely packed out and music was pumping out of it like a nightclub, and my parents really didn't fancy a raucous meal out. So we ended up going somewhere else instead that was ok but nothing special, which was a slight disappointment to end the weekend on.

Saying that, it didn't ruin what was a wonderful weekend with family in a pretty decent town full of cracking pubs. Seeing my mum so excited showing us where she grew up and hearing stories I never knew before, such as being arrested for underage drinking, their friend locking himself in an Italian Restaurant toilet all night, and my mum and dad being chased down the street by a restaurant owner with a meat cleaver.

I've decided not to share the finer details here, but if you go into the Head of Steam, The Sportsman or The Rat and Ratchet anytime soon, you'll probably find someone who overheard some of them.

Bye Huddersfield, it's been a blast.

With thanks to: Oli Fisher (@olifisher) and Keir Whiteside (@KeirWhiteside)

Next Up: Stoke City! March 12th