May we introduce you to "Pride of the West"

My dad Charlie James was a Bristol City fan, and lots of memories involve dad and pubs.

Dad often spoke about players from the early 50’s like Mike Thresher, Tony Cook and Alec Eisentrager, as well as the FA Cup game against Blackpool in 1959 which saw Sir Stanley Matthews play in front of 43,000 at Ashton Gate. Apparently Matthews didn’t get much change out of Thresher, who was one of the hardest nuts ever to wear a Bristol City shirt.

Dad took me to my first game at Ashton Gate as a 5 year old in 1967, a 0-0 draw against Middlesboro, where I remember being sat on the wall at the front of the old Park End with other young kids. Mostly after that for a while we were East Enders, he’d sit me on a stanchion and hold me there for the duration of the game. 

 Me and my 3 children all have season tickets, and wives and grandchildren have started coming, all sat in the same seats. Other memorable games I attended with my kids rather than dad was the 6-0 away win at Bradford City in 2015 which sealed promotion. That season, 2014/15, is my favourite of all time and to this day Steve Cotterill is a very close 2nd to Terry Cooper as my favourite Bristol City manager.

I’ve watched Bristol City at 81 of the current 92 grounds, plus getting on for 20 at clubs no longer in the football league. I almost want City to go back down to the 4th division so I can collect the rest of the 92, for me it’s not important which division we are playing in, Bristol City is in your blood and in your genes.

My first game at Ashton gate at the age of 12 was a Tuesday night derby, 2-1 win against the gas in 1993. The following year my mum and dad let me have a season ticket in the B block of the dolman with my older brothers which I had to save up to pay for. I managed to get a day off school for the trip to Anfield the following year where Rush, McManaman, Barnes couldn’t stop the mighty Reds. Lasting memories I can remember like they were yesterday. Beating Man Utd 2-1 at the gate came a close second in memories. CTID.

First City experience Liverpool Centenary friendly aged six. Teenage Michael Owen causing havoc but good draw in a packed AG.

Favourite player Tommy Doherty. BS3 lad who always led from the front.

Wembley heartbreak versus Hull, but great times like United QF, and Cotts promotion season.

CTID

“Growing up in Clifton and then Bedminster I was always going to be a City fan.  I started going to Ashton Gate from the age of five and my first strong memory (aged six) is the famous draw at home to the great Don Revie Leeds side in 1974.  

Dad always took us in the old Enclosure (we would arrive at 1.15pm before the gates opened at 1.30pm so I could get to sit on one of the bars at the front of the terrace).  A couple of years later I started taking a stool so I could stand near the wall at the back of the Enclosure with everyone else.   I loved the terraces.  I still miss it now.  The atmosphere the night that we beat Portsmouth to get promotion to the top flight in 1976 is one of the highlights of my childhood.

What does City mean to me?  Simple.  It is a “football family”.  My son (despite growing up in York) has had a season ticket with me in the Dolman all his life.  Most of my best lifelong friends are City fans.  We have all been through ups and downs in our personal and work lives but City has been the constant theme that binds us together. 

For me the perfect Saturday will always be a few pints in the Merchants in Hotwells with my mates followed by the walk across the park to Ashton Gate.  Nothing will ever match it…..”

My first game was at home to Leicester in 1970 and I was immediately hooked.  Within a year I found that I had to be there, at every game, no matter how difficult or time consuming the journey.    It’s been a lifelong love affair, through all the highs and lows but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. So much has changed since those early days standing on the East End but the bonds shared with so many friends I’ve made along the way remain constant and stronger than ever.  I can’t imagine life without Bristol City and am proud to be part of the mission to protect our precious heritage.

Very few things define someone as much as the football team they support. For better or worse, it is a lifelong and unconditional commitment. Despite a somewhat inauspicious introduction as a youngster in September 1968 (a 3-0 drubbing at Ninian Park) I caught the BCFC bug and was fortunate enough to follow City home and away right through that golden era/rollercoaster ride (delete as appropriate) under the likes of AD, TC, JJ etc. And if anything, moving away from the West Country (firstly to London and then later overseas) only made my passion for our great club even stronger. Extremely honoured therefore to be connected in a small way with this fantastic initiative and the proud heritage which it represents for so many of us

Many of my most cherished childhood memories come from following Bristol City. I remember my early days at Ashton Gate, climbing the steps of the Dolman Stand to the same seats our family has held since I was four. Twenty years on, our weekly rituals remain unchanged. We've followed City home and away—narrowly missing Premier League promotion in 2008, enduring relegation in 2013, and celebrating promotion at Bradford on a Tuesday night in 2015. We lived every moment of the magical cup run in 2017 and the final-day drama securing a playoff place in 2025. We’ve endured (and laughed at) some dreadful football too. But through every high and low, it was always we. Alongside, all the City fans down the Gate, these memories were always made together - following City as a family.

Some of my best memories are rooted in Bristol City. I’ll never forget the electric atmosphere when we beat Bradford 6-0 away from home in 2015 - it was the game that sealed our promotion to the Championship. That day felt like a dream. I’ve supported Bristol  City for as long as I can remember, watching them week in, week out with my whole family—my dad, two brothers, grandpa and grandad. It’s more than football; it’s tradition, laughter, frustration, and joy, all shared together. One trip that stands out was an FA Cup replay game away at Middlesbrough in 2007. Dad went all out and hired a coach for us and a bunch of friends. The journey up was filled with songs, beers, and banter, and although the result didn’t go our way, we lost on penalties, the experience was unforgettable. Supporting City has given me memories that go beyond the pitch—moments of unity and family that I’ll carry for the rest of my life.

Been a Bristol city since the age 7 , remember being taken by my grandfather who was a steward in the Williams stand, I had his seat every home game, even went to it’s the knock out events during closed season, been all over the country following City, Mansfield away is a memory that stands out winning it so late amazing, Man Utd at home in the cup what a atmosphere so many good memories to share, made some great friendships following City home and away like family now some off them, just glad I got involved being part of making this mural, 

Up the City!

The favourite singalong in our house was “I’m City till I die”.  We loved sitting and bouncing on Dad’s knee laughing and shouting the words. 

Yes, we were Bristol City through and through - way before we went anywhere near Ashton Gate!

But on top of this - our Grandad played for Bristol city and, although he didn’t talk a lot about it, we knew by the photos we had seen and what our dad and mum told us, he was a great player! (4th highest ALL TIME scorer - our Jimmy Rogers)

Mum wasn’t a football lover in spite of her heritage, but our Dad loved it!He took us to lots of games and we’ve all been on the pitch as mascots(sadly we weren’t very lucky mascots)

Now we are all grown up and it’s our children who have learnt that song and are just starting their journey through the turnstiles, learning how to shout at the ref, get behind our team, sing louder than the others and have a good time! Thank you Grandad, thank you Dad. We are all CTID. 

 The Senior Reds founded 34 years ago has met on the third Thursdays during the football season to provide those born in 1970 and earlier an opportunity to meet and discuss their opinions on the ups and downs of Bristol City. We enjoy a 3 course meal in the Heineken Lounge and our guest speakers have entertained sizeable audiences ranging from Steve and John Lansdown, Alan Dicks, Joe Jordan, Brian Tinnion, Gary Johnson, Lee Johnson, Dean Holden, Steve Cotterill, Nigel Pearson, Liam Manning and now for August 2025 Gerhard Struber. In the past six seasons we have generated over £137kfor City, raised directly discretionary funds for youngsters football kit in the Academy over the last season totalling £6,500 through raffles, donations and menbership fees. Attendance is open to members and guests with many ex players enjoying the friendship of this fellowship attracting 48 new members in past year.

A vibrant pub in Backwell, the Rising Sun where jubilant City fans had celebrated with their local heroes in the years before during City’s rise and eventual Promotion in 1975, Survival in 1975 was silenced when four young men died tragically on the A370 near Brockley crossroads. Away trips and home matches were enjoyed by Martin Davis, Paul Grant, Clive Ruskell and Geoffrey Watts who were on their return from an autumn evenings skittles match at Congresbury on Tuesday September 27th 1977. Of many obituaries in the Bristol Evening Post this expressed best our sorrow “Our memories of you will never fade, the hours we spent together, played together as friends, like brothers. Our parting was so tragic. Life must go on but never the same, without your brightness things will seem so dim. Heartfelt sympathies to parents and relatives - from all the crew at the Rising Sun, Backwell.

Martin Davis, Paul Grant, Clive Ruskell & Geoffrey Watts remembered forever by their friends.

My father took me to Ashton Gate when I was just 7 years old and I've introduced my son at about the same age. Our family have been life long supporters of Bristol City.

It was difficult to watch the games during my rugby days as I was always away for weekend fixtures while on tour. But my first thought after a rugby game would be, how did City get on. Of course now, I get to enjoy my semi retirement watching all the home games and a few away. City have always been a big part of the Chilcott household and always will be.

My first trip to Bristol City seemed inauspicious. Stepping out of our car onto a greasy cobbled street, the gusting wind propelled icy rain into our screwed-up faces. The packed pubs were inviting with the Bristol City fans amusing us with their sharp, ribald banter. I warmed to their resilience.

The game that changed everything was on 26 October 1974, the day my Dad took me to see the Robins playing Notts County at home in front of a 10,343 crowd. 

I remember I could just about get my head above those ancient metal turnstiles. We were right at the back of the East End stand and I was only a child, so it was a question of peering between people's shoulders. A stranger with callused, bucket-like hands picked me up as if I was a packing case and lifted me onto the iron support railings that ran across the stand, the smell of Embassy Number 1, Silk Cut and John Player’s No.6 cigarette smoke in my nostrils. I was nine-years-old and from that day there was no going back.

There I was – a skinny-as-a-pipe-cleaner schoolboy – trembling in anticipation of my first view of Second Division football. 

When moving from Weston-super-Mare to North Weston, in Portishead, this gingery-haired youngster momentarily dabbled with supporting Bristol Rovers at the new scary primary school and sported a blue-and-white rosette. Easy to locate because of my carrot-coloured hair, I am sure I deliberately flouted the Seagulls colours to infuriate the bullies who tormented me in the playground, and who passionately supported the Reds rather than the Blues.

But when I first clapped eyes on Bristol City, it was love at first sight. The persistent asking to go again started, and so my grandfather, father and me went together. It was only later that my passion would lead to me writing about the club in papers, programmes, magazines and on-line. 

Dad always parked some way from the ground and as we walked down the road past the old Bedminster Cricket Club ground, amongst crowds of people, I was transfixed. For a nine-year-old boy, it was a magical and spine-tingling experience, and I picked up on my Dad’s genuine excitement about going to see our team and his expectation of converting me to the religion of worshipping Bristol City.

I remember witnessing defender Geoff Merrick diving across his goal as if in imitation of Superman. He could play the most remarkable pass, make a crunching tackle or an acrobatic flying header, and he possessed every attribute required for that role. For the whole game he threw his battered body about the place with the same disregard a builder shows for a firm's Transit. Gary Collier walks on to the icy pitch as if there’s a ribbon of red carpet beneath his feet. He ran and tackled without ever looking disheveled and left the field the way he’d arrived on it: virtually unblemished and with barely a crease or muddy mark on his shirt.   

Super-striker Paul Cheesley was this fledgling fan's first superhero. Near the end, I did see him climb to an extraordinary height at the far post, his header scraping against the side netting. He seemed able to rise as if he had wings in his boots, which allowed him to hang almost motionless in the air. It was hard to decide whether he had descended from the belt of cloud above him or levitated vertically from the grass beneath; either way, he seemed to defy gravity. 

Wonderful!

I was born in Bristol just two days before England’s World Cup victory on the 30th July, 1966.  I’d like to think my love of football began in the ambulance ride home, with match commentary blaring from the radio. Nicknamed World Cup Willie after the tournament’s first mascot, my passion for the game took root early. By age nine, I was football mad, and while I’m not sure if red became my favourite colour because of Bristol City or if I chose City because of it.  Growing up, my grandmother’s radio was a constant soundtrack of sports—local football, county cricket, or England test matches. When football season paused, cricket filled the gap.  By age nine, I was glued to Bristol City’s match commentary on the radio. My first game in person, as far as I recall, was the 1977 derby against Bristol Rovers at Ashton Gate, likely the 3-1 Anglo-Scottish Cup win. That season, City lifted the trophy against St Mirren.  In November 1977, my family moved to the Forest of Dean, but my love for City never wavered. I’d take the bus from Lydney to Ashton Gate to see them in Division One, equivalent to today’s Premier League. I cherish memories of Joe Royle’s four-goal debut against Middlesbrough in 1977 and the 1-0 victory over Liverpool in 1978—extra sweet since my brother was a Liverpool fan. I’m almost certain my brothers, cousins, and I graced the cover of the next home match programme against Coventry.  I’d wait outside the players’ entrance, autograph book in hand, collecting signatures from legends like Tom Ritchie, Joe Royle, Norman Hunter, Kevin Mabbutt, David Rodgers, Gerry Sweeney, Gerry Gow, and Trevor Tainton. Those books are still treasures, and Kevin Mabbutt became my idol. I joined his fan club and still have the membership packet, though I’m missing the elusive Kevin Mabbutt pen—if anyone has one, I’d love to add it to my collection. Seeing Kevin’s red Lotus Esprit Turbo probably sparked my love for sports cars.  By 1991, I was in Leicester, still following City but less fervently due to work. Moving to the US in 1996 made it harder—pre-internet, I relied on cousins for updates, like the programme and scarf from the 1999 League Trophy win against Stoke City. When I returned to the UK in August 2014, I found my City memorabilia in my parents’ attic, including programmes from those Division One days. Since then, I’ve built a near-complete collection of home and away programmes from 1952 to today, missing only a few friendlies.   My return coincided with Steve Cotterill’s leadership, as City topped League One, earned promotion to the Championship, and won the League Trophy for the third time in 2014. That season reignited my passion, and I’ve been a season ticket holder ever since.  I’m involved with the BCFC Heritage and Archive. I also helped compile the Legacy Cap list of former players, from my extensive database of match statistics, and I supply the player statistics for the CideReds matchday programme.   Now, I dream of seeing Bristol City in the Premier League before my time’s up, a return to the glory of those late-’70s matches at Ashton Gate.