Heart, Soul and Swansea-Cardiff: Inside the South Wales derby.

Words: Tom Reed

Images: Andy Evans

Supporting images: Tom Reed

In the bowels of the Cardiff City Stadium, just a brick chuck away from their old gaff at Ninian Park, is a dividing wall, which separates home and away supporters.

On any given Saturday it’s a nondescript void, with the odd murmur from burger munchers but on South Wales derby day, it becomes much more than that.

Pent up followers who have spent weeks waiting for the Cardiff vs Swansea clash lurk on either side of the 15 foot wall, which serves as both a lamppost for territory marking and a fucked-up portal into this insane rivalry which goes back so far it’s hard to know where to start.

“We fucking hate Swansea City” sing the Bluebirds.

“We fucking hate Cardiff City” chant the entity behind the barrier, an unknown ether like the black smoke that appears ominously in the TV show Lost.

Somehow, a Spiderman Swansea lad appears at the top of the lofty partition, poking his head above the parapet and hurling abuse at the home faithful.

Their plastic pint pots patter the wall in an unsettling throw-away manner, for this groovy kind of hate that would see them knock seven shades of shit out of each other in sheer abandon if it wasn’t there

There was a kid at my school who was an identical twin and he used to sleep with a foam baseball bat by his bed because occasionally his twin would challenge him to fight in the night. Far from being scared of the scrap he used to look forward to it as it gave him a chance to resolve brotherly competition.

Brawling on the floor, mum shouting to pack it in and back to school on Monday.

“It’s normal innit” I remember him smiling wryly about a relationship not a million miles away from Cardiff-Swansea.

©Andy Evans/ Terrace Edition. Cardiff City FC.

It started with beers and shots for breakfast in the big city/small town centre of Cardiff which oozes heritage and had locals on the pavement bars even in the inevitable rain in a visual defence of a loveable rogue capital.

“Olé, olé, olé, olé, you’ll never ban, a City fan” went the chant as high as Cardiff castle, like the Irish at Italia ’90 but with a more menacing reference to the number on the prohibited list.

It’s raining that thin misty vapour they shower you with at Dubai airport except its nine degrees and instead of Louis Vuitton it’s Tacchini and Weekend Offender

The history of the South Wales derby is kept alive in the stories of fans whose loyalty goes back decades, the sociology dissolving as day turns to night and remaining only as aural notes of the thunder of trainers and the crack of snapped seats.

Cardiff was the coal capital of Wales while Swansea was famous for copper which is apt given the number of police on the streets.

Grangetown could read Strange Town like The Jam hit and the walls of The Grange public house could sing of this rivalry.

A 1987 derby clash when the dresser style had firmly taken hold in this unglamorous face-off, and where looking the part was crucial. Jimmy Gilligan scored the winner at Ninian and scenes before and after made police rethink Saturday, 3pm kick-offs for quite some time.

The infamous 1993 riot at Ninian Park, where fans tried out for the British chair chucking team and everything felt comfortably out of control. Garry Thompson notched the decisive goal for the Blues and talks in his book about not having to pay for a drink in town after the match, with Cardiff counting the cost of sticking a rickety Ninian back together.

A 6k gate was considered decent in those days as Cardiff and Swansea supporters, for good and bad, sustained their clubs through the tough times, when big money was spent on horse racing and motor sport and rarely on football .

To focus on distilled violence would be to miss the crux of this derby and that space between on-pitch glory and what is to come. That moment after a superlative first touch, that has beaten a defender all ends up.

What Cardiff really care about is that 1971 European Cup Winners’ Cup win at Ninian against Real Madrid and the 1927 FA cup victory over Arsenal at the Empire Stadium, Wembley.

There’s a cracking statue of the cup winning captain Fred Keenor, who survived the battle of the Somme and went on to Wembley glory in the days before TV, when the pioneering blues travelled to London and came back with the silverware.

“The year was 1927, the merry Month of May

The famous Cardiff City walked down Wembley Way.

They faced the mighty Arsenal who thought they'd win the cup

but along came City and fucked the Gunners up.”

Imagine then, the team from the historic city on the Taff being dismissed as merely “sheep shaggers” by all and sundry in England, tossing those achievements in the bin like the disposable cups at the CCS.

Think further what it’s like to be looked down on by Cardiff as a Swansea fan, despite years of good football that puts most to shame in a relationship with the ball. “We are your capital”, the Bluebirds sneer in an attempt to keep Swans fans in their place.

Both teams have so much to prove, not least in plying their trades outside the top flight but the energy of both sets of supporters could power a side that could challenge in Europe again.

The old Ninian Park and its rainy aura and winding terraces is long gone, replaced with a housing estate of buildings which don’t do it justice. In the garden there is a plaque where Ninian’s centre-spot was. A memorial which will never live up to the sporting moments that saw the likes of Cardiff’s John Buchanan and Swansea’s Joe Allon have their marauding minutes in the derby.

Over the road, the old Ninian Park gates still stand with their intricate ironwork Bluebirds. Someone’s hung a plastic bin bag off them, which speaks of the expendable history of the non-commercial game.

But the fans remember and the young ‘uns take it on by association, keeping this rivalry rolling and make the pyro filled pre-match into more of a gig than a game of football.

Most of the chants are unrepeatable, including a revival of the vermin cuisine favourite of the 80's

“In the Swansea slums

They look in the dustbin for something to eat,

They find a dead rat and they think it’s a treat

In the Swansea slums”

Of course, it’s a total coincidence that the Cardiff PA blares out the song “Rat in me kitchen” by UB40 as kick-off approaches.

As for what Swansea are going to do, well they are going to score within three minutes with Joel Piroe lashing the ball into the top corner, leaving the Cardiff fans stuck on the stairs and not even in a seat, in a state of all too familiar disbelief.

A white smoke bomb is lobbed towards the Cardiff fans by the Union flag Jacks in limbs who count ex-player Lee Trundle in their number, showboating in celebration.

Swansea boss Russell Martin values possession and their game plan is excruciatingly obvious in starving the Bluebirds of the ball and then exposing their back-three, with passes in-behind, on the counter .

Cardiff fans on a lager comedown would have been in the bar within seconds as Swansea’s trap snap shut and Piroe snuck in and smacked the post, before Cullen headed home to make it 0-2 Swansea.

Yet, in a classic clash of cultures, a long ball forward gave a Cardiff a way back in via a knockdown and a Jaden Philogene lasher from range to make it 2-1, sending those early bar stalkers rushing back in to celebrate a goal they hadn’t seen,

This was the exact moment that the hope that kills you was injected into the home faithful.

It took till 83 minutes for Cardiff to claim the equaliser, after chants about unnatural Swansea family relations and the anxious questioning of every decision from the officials.

So gloriously cruel how it played out, as a deep cross was headed home by Sory Kaba for the leveller and what looked like a precious point for Cardiff.

The ball hung in the air for an age and the Bluebirds had “two-nil and you fucked it up” locked and loaded before it had hit the net.

Unlike in the stands, Cardiff lack leaders in their eleven and Championship level quality of decision making. In the 99th of all minutes, a Jay Fulton Swansea free-kick clattered the post, leaving the Bluebirds defenders stuck on pause for Ben Cabango to sweep in from close range.

The fact that Cabango is Cardiff-born was lost on most of the fans in blue who made for the exits as the away end bounced and Swansea players and fans ripped shirts off backs for a famous 2-3 win for the “double-double” which is more than just a London pie and mash order.

©Tom Reed/ Terrace Edition. Cardiff City FC.

Cardiff had done Real Madrid in ’71 but the all-whites of Swansea were taking the reflected glory this time.

Foam baseball bats were put under the pillow for another year as home fans trooped to Grangetown and Bluebirds coaches meandered back to the Cynon and Rhymney valleys.

The cock-a-hoop Swansea supporters are still probably in the stadium now.

Swansea being the better footballing team is what hurts, rather than the recreational rumbles and the hangovers that will go on for centuries.

“We have stuck to what we want to be” said manager Martin after an extended spell on the pitch-post match, alluding to the Swans’ clear footballing identity.

Cardiff lack that playing style but they are used to suffering and will cope with relegation if it comes to it

As for the rivalry, there’s no other route than loathing for Cardiff and Swansea who are too far in.

The disdain will sustain over the lesser summer months.