Legroom — Terrace Edition

Words: Tom Reed

Images: Tom Reed

“#WorstFootballGroundIHaveBeenTo Luton. More legroom in Noddy’s car.”

Strange this idea of legroom in the game that’s about pinching pockets of space where there’s little to be found.

So long as fans have a reasonable time of it.

The sport of crowds, rather than a hotel lobby and a place to spread out your broadsheet.

We sent Luton a lad called Guttridge after he’d drifted into a gap and sent a 25 yard belter in at Cheltenham.

First time, with no backlift, no fucks given for the defensive line.

They get it in the neck about shin scrapes at Kenilworth Road but there’s always room enough if you look for it.

Take a trundle up the guided busway from town and feel the startling gust of the fast one to Dunstable and then another, as you clearly haven’t remembered that they hurtle past at will.

Have a shuffle down the alleys where you can stretch out and touch both family houses and Luton Town’s home with a reasonable wingspan but it’s all fine and people will make sure you can get through.

The Oak Road End, which has had more photos taken of it than Charles and Diana but where fans mill around in the street, finishing their cans and stewards will take you aside for a friendly pat down the flanks.

A pint of Kronenbourg 1664 in the Bobbers Club, as smartly dressed chaps sway and bicker about who’s drunk each other’s drink and what year Luton turned out in pink.

There’s a table at the back where the old boy is doing shots of Sambuca and the friendly family will let you sit with them and hear stories of how houses near the ground that could have maybe let Luton expand and stay were lost.

Always enough time for another round before kick-off, just stick your elbows out a bit, kick-back for that Kroney, stand your ground for a Stella.

And into the Kenny and into those moments that have a Police Academy 6 running time but provide a world of visual memories and sweet footballing PTSD.

Just and hour an a half, so take your time, sidestep when you can, let someone in front of you for a piss, hang back a bit.

Have a fag in the outside area or just watch the smoke disappear into the sky cos that’s all it is really, vaporised togetherness.

The Kenny will be gone at some point soon and the urge to let your tibias see daylight will be replaced with a lament for shoulder to shoulder support and that queue for everything.

Away fans mithering about the erosion of denim on plastic will move on to new worries, such as the shit wi-fi, while sitting in new super-stadia with aisles of space like a quiet Surrey Waitrose at closing time.

A group of young lads embrace on the stairs as the Hatters score, they’ve jinked into the void there, really done the business and put themselves in a good place to get to the half-time pre-poured.

Some of the most retina burned moments come from standing on your seat in celebration.

If you want legroom go to Milton Keynes, go up the Luton for the football.