My Dad is a Hibby. Weirdly I've got three mates that are Gunts. Their Dads are all Hibby's. All supporting the club of their Mum's side. The mother of my youngest laddie is from a Gunt supporting lot. Over my dead body will he be a Gunt. On a walk they took a pic of him in buggy sitting outside Tynecastle. I went fuckin tonto. Told I was sexist for assuming he will follow Daddy and not Mummy. Don't care. A sexist unrepentant Gunt hating Hibby I am.
He is home and away Bonnyrigg Rose, has been for much of his life, like his dad before him. His other team is the Huns but as telly has managed to supply him with an almost endless supply of them he never goes anymore.
He’s originally from Harthill but moved east when he was ten. Curiously, he was a childhood friend of the late Eric Stevenson who he went to school with in Harthill and after they both moved through.
I went to my first Bonnyrigg game when I was five or six, and I’ve taken all my children to Bonnyrigg games as well as Hibs games.
I love junior/senior or as it now is all in one pyramid football.
He went to his first Hibs game at Easter Road in 1944 and saw the Famous Five in their heyday along with his mates.
Got to know Lawrie Reilly quite well as he was a regular at the Bowlers Rest in Leith.
Took me to my first Hibs game in 1971 when I was 6.
We are a big Hibs family and most of my relations are as well.
He wisnae intae fitba, or so I thought, until he died and I found a picture of him in a team photo in a long coat and bunnet . Nae idea in what capacity he was there, thinking he might have been the trainer as he had been in the army medical corp. He never minded me going tae watch Hibs and gave me the odd couple of Bob for my bus fares. (Most times we kipped on the bus and climbed or got a lift over at games. Or we wid steal beer bottles fae the back of the Libby Inn and resell them tae the manager)
Times were hard
My dad is English of the cricket variety, said he had a soft spot for West Ham but I doubt he ever saw them play. We went to see Meadowbank Thistle once, I was already a regular Hibby. He had no idea what to do and what he did was invariably embarrassing.
Wasn't as bad as my thick as mince Spanish uncle Tony who took me to a Deportivo de La Coruña game and insisted on continually getting up, waving his arms about like a demented gibbon and calling the referee a bastard at the top of his voice in English, and some loud lengthy rants about Brian Clough, again in English.
I wish we'd been thrown out!
I'm quite happy being the first Hibby in the family and going to games with my mates from school.
My father God rest his soul was born and raised in Perthshire and he followed St.Johnstone, but in saying that when we settled in Edinburgh on Easter Road, he followed the Hibs score, and staying on Easter Road I had to be a Hibee.
My uncle was a Hibby and used to take me to ER because my dad worked Saturdays and I still wanted to go to the football. Raith are still my "wee team" despite their tendency to employ ex-Jambo fuds of late.
Hibs v Raith games have a nice natured derby feel to them for me.
My Faither was a Hibby and a Scaffolder. The firm he worked for at the time I started attending ER, used to erect the camera tower in the old East Terrace, draped in a big fuck off tarpaulin. They would have to hang about till after the game to dismantle it and I'd hang about at the base nicking his sandwiches before toddling of towards leith walk for the No 16 bus hame.
Taking it back one more generation, my grandad was from Bristol, he moved to Glasgow after the first world war and the first place he stayed was Copeland Road. I guess he must have just followed the crowds because he supported the Huns. He used to tell me about past greats like Alan Morton and the 1950s when Hibs v Huns games were the Famous Five attack against the Iron Curtain defence.
My dad moved to Edinburgh from Glasgow in the 1950s. Football was not high up on his list of priorities in life - providing for his family, the Kirk, hillwalking. He must have gone to Easter Road at some point though because he told me he'd seen Gordon Smith and the others play. So he wasn't exactly a Hibs supporter, but he always wanted Hibs to win because he knew that would make me happy.
My Dad was a gunt. However he was a very ill man by the time we reached the cup final in 2016. When Sir David Gray scored he jumped out his seat like Lazarus, swore in delight (he rarely swore) and was delighted for all his Hibee sons, grandchildren and my Mum, a Hibby all her days.
My dad wasn’t a great football fan, but used to attend Hibs or Gunts home games occasionally. He had a scare being trapped against crush barriers and stopped going long before I was old enough to attend.
My older brother is a Gunt, so my dad took a neutral stance between the two of us.
I think deep down he was a Gunt though, because he drove a Rover and had several cardigans.
My Dad was a Hibby all his days. From seeing them pre-World War II and then watching the Famous Five develop, through to the "Away" European game at Firhill and Turnbull's Tornadoes, his one regret was that they didn't win the Scottish Cup. Needless to say on that great day 5 years ago, he was the first person I thought of when the final whistle blew. Aye, I had a wee greet for him then, and for a dear cousin who died the month before.
My auld fella was never really into fitbaw but would tend to support whichever east coast team were playing either of the arse cheeks.
Being from Fife and of a similar age he sorta knew Jim Baxter. (I think they both done their national service together). He never liked Baxter, said he was full of himself. In fairness, Baxter was probably entitled to be full of himself.