Ninian Park off my visiting list

IT WAS my first visit to Ninian Park; it will undoubtedly be my last. People were hurt inside the ground, hit by flying missiles. Many of the Leeds fans spent the afternoon fearing for their safety rather than enjoying a classic cup tie.

After the match I interviewed Sam Hammam and gave the club owner, and chief cheerleader, a number of opportunities to condemn the behaviour of some of his supporters, but he felt they deserved to celebrate the moment and preferred to blame sections of the English media for their attitude towards the Welsh.

I challenged him on this point, but he continued repeating it. When I tried to steer the conversation onto different matters, he made it clear one more interruption would mean the end of the interview.

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I changed tack and asked him why he went behind the goal for the final ten minutes and whether that stirred up the crowd even more. His answer was the same he’d given four times previously and in no mood to be bullied I challenged him to answer the question. At that point, he left his office and returned with two security men who ripped the minidisc recorder from my hand and ushered me down the tunnel.

Once outside I was grabbed by the coat by another security man and thrown out of the ground, the wrought-iron gates of Ninian Park slamming shut behind me like a prison cell door. The minidisc has been destroyed.

BBC colleague Ian Brown, a lifelong Cardiff City fan, was also ejected from the ground for asking for the tape back.

I was made to feel like the drunken yob who, a few yards away from me, flung a coin at referee Andy D’Urso. I was ejected for doing my job - that guy will be back next week.

My one day at Cardiff City goes down as the worst in my football-watching life.

Is this the image Cardiff City want to project to visitors to Ninian Park? If so, they, and sections of their fans, are going about it pretty well.

Jonathan Overend is a reporter for BBC Radio 5 Live