Bob Bank Whistler
When I went to watch Cardiff City when I was a lot younger, when you’d be lucky to get a crowd of about 6,000 (now, the average attendance is about double that), if I went in the Bob Bank, there was one thing I could guarantee, and that was hearing a frequent, extremely loud whistle coming from somewhere behind me.
Like one of the regular chants, it added to the atmosphere of the Bob Bank. It would always be six notes, usually heard after a particularly wild shot, or poor play, by the opposition, in a mocking way, as if to say “just because you’re losing”.
In the last couple of seasons though, while the crowds have been bigger, and although the chants have continued, I’ve no longer heard the whistle. I submitted a message to the Cardiff City fans’ forum asking if anyone else had noticed this, and there were a few replies saying “yes, I remember that whistle”. At least one person even claimed to know who the whistler was. There was a general consensus that the whistler had probably now settled down with his family. It’s a common cliché used to explain the absence of a once ever-present fan.
As Cardiff had, remarkably, reached the FA Cup Semi Final, to be played at Wembley, it was announced that anyone who was not a season ticket holder or member could increase their chances of getting a ticket by attending the next home game after the announcement of our place in the next round of the competition. No-one would have expected earlier in the season that, given our mid-table position in the league, we would draw a crowd of 17,500 for the game against Hull, and scorn was poured on many of the “glory hunters” who’d turned up for this game.
However, not long after I’d taken my place amongst the ranks in the Bob Bank, I heard that long-absent whistle! I didn’t see who it was immediately. There was a guy dressed in a camouflage jacket a few rows ahead of me (recently, I’d taken to standing at the back), there with his wife and child, and although he was singing along, at first I took him to be another of the glory supporters. But then, Hull scuffed a shot, the whistle went out, and I saw that he was the whistler! It was like spotting a rare bird! Immediately, I was happy to have finally seen who it was, after all this time.
Perhaps I should have gone to speak to him, but for a lot of the time, he was quite cosy with his wife, so I thought it better not to disturb him. I decided I could possibly record the whistle on my mobile – it’d make a good ring-tone, I thought, or perhaps I could
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