John Campbell27 said:Hey everyone—I was trying to dig up a photo of the group online (assuming there was even an organized trip to the game), so I was wondering if anyone might have one tucked away in their archives? It would be for the matchup between the local rivals and Real Madrid back on September 13, 1986... basically the first time they traveled to play them after the group was officially formed.
I can't get the image to load. But yeah, people definitely went to that game. Just one small correction, though—the group actually existed before then, so they had been traveling under that same name for a while already.
So, I was watching this interview from an Indianapolis local—it was probably on NBC or some other major network—around the 10-minute mark during the earthquake coverage. This guy just wouldn't stop praising the Bad Boys, even though they only showed up in Indianapolis on their own initiative. He was going on about them so much, it felt almost unreal. And then... well, predictably, the trolls show up. Right after that first segment aired, they started bashing the Bad Boys. It’s like that psychological warfare you see in history books—like how the media would spin those horrific stories during the occupation of Warsaw, only to issue a tiny little retraction the next day once the damage was already done. I guess maybe these trolls are running a similar kind of specialized campaign against all football fans, especially targeting the Bad Boys. They shouldn't try to play the "good guys" right now. Just stir the pot a little, cause some chaos, and call it a day.
Hey everyone in the area and all my neighbors out here in the territory. Hang in there, stay safe. I've got some extra space if anyone needs a place to crash—just shoot me a message here
I feel like I have to get this out online, just so people actually know. Honestly. This is how it is. You shouldn't mess around with others—especially people you aren't on level with—unless you're truly ready to go all the way. I've seen too many faces to make a mistake on that. I tried to let it go, I really did, but it's eating at me. Back in Detroit, when we were trying to get away from those guys... it was short and intense. There were nine of them and only six of us. Two of them turned on us, one even had a knife, and two were already bleeding. Around 130 fans started swarming us, so we ducked into this metal shipping container that happened to be right there. That was it—end of the chaos. Just a total mess. Later, when we were in some guy's house in Chicago and then down in Miami, he started telling stories about some kind of escape. I'll stay quiet because his dad was right there, and I didn't want to make things awkward for the kid. The elders were around, too. But the story starts spreading about me like any good tale does, and it’s starting to boil over. Someone starts shouting loudly about knives, saying "always carry one" or "it'll save someone." Then they talk to their buddies, implying that if they were happy under the old regime, well, I went to war and learned how to handle a sniper rifle and a knife back in '21, and even after the war ended, it was still just scouts, killers, and hooligans. It hits me hard—I can't even control it, it’s like my temper just takes over. We were in Vegas once, and I made it clear: I'm not playing games, and I'm not some lowlife. During a private visit, people realized that these "fighters" are basically just empty shells being used. And if anyone wants to tell me that, just remember—I've seen people die, and I've handled a sniper and open combat over thirty times. When we went to Lithuania, everyone was acting like we were high society, crying and acting soft, until I finally snapped in Seattle after some mistakes were made. By the time we were in Lisbon, things had shifted. LOOK, I'M NOT SICK, AND I DON'T HAVE ANY MALICIOUS INTENTIONS TOWARD THE B.B.B. I NEVER WANTED TO TAKE OVER ANYTHING. BUT I hate seeing the team's status being neglected like this. It's what the lowlifes do. You help an older guy if he's having a rough time, you talk to him, you support him. Without history, there's no future. Don't be surprised if I act out soon. I'm one of the few left who actually helped found the BBB, gave them their name, and designed that first emblem. To me, the BBB is deeply personal. That's why I pull away sometimes—from visits, meetings, even stuff with Maamich. Man, after the divorce, the war, and some time in prison, I went through a dark period, but now I'm coming back,
slycyclist19 said:Total frauds... just playing with the fans' emotions until the next game
Man, give me a break. You guys are a hundred times more dishonest than those guys from Chicago. Honestly, you could have actually handled that Lisbon series—you had three whole days to set things up so we wouldn't get crushed. But where were you? We were just waiting, and then suddenly, you're out there with that crowd right before the match, acting all wild. Everything else just falls apart. And seriously, I can't believe you're dragging this guy into it again when he hasn't done anything wrong—don't even ask me why, man. It’s just frustrating how you keep spinning these lies. That wasn't a small thing, either. It doesn't matter if someone isn't a "true fan" or whatever labels you use—that's just an excuse to target him. I'm standing by him. You just keep going with your fabrications, making up new stories and feeding the hate just because of the rivalry.
I’ve always been all for the rivalry between the Red Sox and the Dodgers, but I was never about that whole "blood on the pavement" nonsense—you know, just attacking people who can't even defend themselves. Like what happened today, attacking some guy just standing at a bus stop, totally oblivious to everything going on around him. Honestly, I’m just glad my aunt got to enjoy her homemade soup and some cookies before all this chaos. So, these thugs pull up in a van and a car, hesitating for maybe ten seconds because they aren't wearing a Fred Perry cap or a Stone Island jacket and some New Balance sneakers. Can you believe it? Some "city slicker" trying to play psychological games with us—though I guess I'm not sure if he even knew what he was doing. As soon as things get heated, he puts on his official hooligan uniform like he's Superman and starts swinging. It’s pathetic, really—to go after some regular guy who hasn't even left the country, just to crack his skull open and beat him senseless. I’ve been a fan since '83, and people know me. I could never quite bring myself to truly brutalize someone during those scuffles. I served with the 4th Brigade out in the field, but what happened yesterday to that man... it honestly stirs up that old, dark feeling people say we should imagine. I mean, coming into Washington D.C. and not even targeting the Dodgers fans, but just attacking local citizens? Just because he lives in the city? You should actually go look at that man—he went through it. Was he supposed to have a gun? If he did, then he’d be a real maniac. I swear, screw anyone who laid a hand on him. You could see from the plane that he wasn't even a real fan.
Bradley Myers15 said:"Calling people cowards for compromising? Honestly, how old are you if you think just banging your head against a wall is the only way to live? It’s kind of ridiculous, actually. You and your crowd are the reason we didn't push further when we actually had the chance—and now that things are finally being fixed after everything YOU and YOUR people messed up, you have the nerve to call compromise weak. Times change, I guess, and learning how to adapt smartly is an actual skill. People like you... honestly, you're worse than any sellouts ever were."
I just don't get it—and honestly, I don't want to. Do you guys even show up to the games? No. Then maybe just keep your mouths shut and stop the whining. Look, if you go, you actually step up. You take charge of the group, walk right up to the guy in charge, and tell him exactly what's what. That’s how I handle things—in fact, I just did something similar recently. It's not about sitting here barking like a little lapdog. That’s basically betrayal, isn't it? Let the opposition celebrate while we sit here—we need to start making moves. It seems like the only issue with leadership is that they're being too nice. Back in my day, we actually stood our ground. We had plenty of meetings, yet all I see here is people yapping.
The best question to ask is this: if you’re such a tough guy, why don't you just go stand right in front of the leaders and shout it to their faces—the Andrics, the pop music, all the flags? I’ve been traveling to away games since 1983, and back when they played in '82, we had Mustafa, Demo, and the Cvetkovics around, so who cares. For us, the only thing that ever mattered was being willing to die on the pitch once you put on that blue jersey. Whether you gamble or have a thing for certain types of women—well, that's your business. Let's not talk nonsense; those pop songs are mostly just kids from sixteen and up listening to them around Zgb. My generation grew up in the late 60s, and we weren't like that. Zgbe is full of people listening to folk music now. I was out in Bge once and didn't hear much of it coming from cars. Honestly, I don't listen to it. As someone who served in the war back in '65, it's just not my thing. But hey, who knows what Hajrovic listens to. Things got pretty heated for a bit, and Victoria was being celebrated alongside the good old days. The guys caught on, though. They haven't even tried singing that pop stuff since Victoria. But all this talk about Mexicans in Dinamo or Hajduk is just silly. There were Mexicans there, there were others, and that's just how it was. People say, "Oh, but he's from Mexico." Look, man, there's nothing worse than a Mexican—they're basically Chetniks, just total low-life peasants, even the real tough guys from Bge wouldn't associate with them. You don't have a clue, kid. And the guy calling this person to Medjugorje—well, I guess that's still how things are. It'll change, and it is changing, slowly. Justice moves slow, but it gets there eventually. A lot has shifted, and we were the ones driving that change. We move forward. These are massive shifts. If something bothers you, fine—go stand in front of people and say it to their face. Don't play revolutionary on the internet instead of hitting the streets.
boldtiger7 said:I won't get into the rest of what you wrote, but I don't think that take on stocks holds water—at least not this season—and there's still plenty of time left🙂
I get it, really, I do. And look, if I said something, I stand by it—total respect to you. But man, that blue sky over Washington, D.C. just raised a whole generation of kids who grew up seeing nothing but police batons and brutal crackdowns. I've gotta hand it to them. I won't go into all the specifics here, but the people I've talked to know exactly what I mean. And believe me, I've talked to everyone. I just don't want to be dismissed as being "out of touch" for my age. I'm speaking from the heart, just like I have for the last 37 years being part of this group. You're right about the other stuff, though. Respect.
Since last summer, I've been talking—really pushing—for us to pull off exactly what those guys did yesterday. I’ve brought it up with everyone, and honestly, most people were on board at first, but then they started hesitating once evening rolled around. Maybe it’s just because it wasn't their own idea to begin with? But now, it’s actually happening. People can talk all they want, but when it looks this good, it makes an impact... though I guess some of us just don't think about the fallout beforehand. And that's how we've stayed stuck in this stalemate for decades. Kudos to anyone doing good work or helping out, but look, we aren't the Boy Scouts or the Red Cross. We shouldn't be trying to buy public affection with these little humanitarian gestures. The public already has its opinion of us, and frankly, we aren't going to change it—even if our group was packed with superheroes saving the world every month. Even among the people whose opinions actually matter, we've become pretty much irrelevant. I really do respect these kids who are just starting out—they might be our only real hope. Until then, all I see are certain characters living off past glories, constantly bragging about how much they did for the group. They're basically building their own cult of personality, trying to create an alibi for themselves before they even do anything useful. Come on, people—we need real, concrete action. I tried to speak up and talk things through, but I just ended up being labeled the crazy guy who won't let it go even after fifty years. It's always the same: either you're a die-hard fan or you're out. Period. And now, exactly what I suggested is happening to us, using the same old methods. Fear is a powerful thing, and the devil is in the details. But without fear, there’s no respect. And once respect is gone, anyone feels entitled to come into our city and score points at our expense.
Since last summer, I’ve been telling everyone—begging, really—that we should pull off exactly what those guys did yesterday. I’ve talked to just about everyone, and honestly, most people were on board at first, but then they started hesitating once evening rolled around. Maybe it's because it wasn't their own idea to begin with. But now, here we are. People can talk all they want, but when it actually happens, it looks pretty impressive... I guess some of us just don't think through the fallout before jumping in. And that's how we've stayed stuck in this same old loop for decades. Kudos to anyone doing good work or helping out, but look—we aren't the Boy Scouts or the Red Cross. We shouldn't be trying to buy public favor with these little humanitarian gestures. The public already has its opinion of us, and frankly, we aren't going to change it, even if our group was suddenly full of superheroes saving the world every month. Among the people whose opinions actually matter, we've become irrelevant just by coasting on our past glory. I have a lot of respect for these kids who are just starting out—they might be our only real hope. Until then, all I see are certain characters living off their old reputations, constantly bragging about how much they've done for the group. They’re basically building their own cult of personality, setting up an alibi just in case they ever do something small or meaningful. Come on, people—we need actual, concrete action. I tried to step up and talk to folks about it, but I ended up being labeled the crazy one who won't let it go, even after fifty years. And then, it happens—exactly what I proposed, just following the same old pattern. Fear is a powerful thing, and I suppose the devil is in the details. But then again, without a little fear, you don't get any respect either.
Well, good job guys—fighting matters. Mad respect to everyone. I’ll drift off into one of my own little stories for a second, though it actually touches on the group quite deeply. To my buddy I.—well, look. I don’t want to go on about how old I am or everything I’ve been through, but I should probably clear something up for some people here. Basically, I’m a ninja. When I went to that last trip to Paris, I went just like a regular civilian, pretty poorly armed—and honestly, I tossed whatever gear I had immediately and didn't even use it. I belong to a certain school of ninjutsu from a tiny island near Okinawa. There are islands out there I can't name, because if I did, everyone would die in terrible agony from some unknown disease. So, I won't. I won't say the name. The direction is called Bushimti doma. Having seen my friend I.—who works miracles with screwdrivers—with my own eyes, I can tell you he's a total zero. Me? Well, I work with a wide spectrum of psycho-physical skills where I can turn reality into a lie and stupidity into truth. As for weapons, it’s anything from katanas and shurikens to paperclips and sharpened points. Just remember, there’s no such thing as a more or less dangerous weapon—there are just more or less dangerous people. Since Kyiv and then Paris were my first away trips after maybe 20 years, I went as a civilian rather than an official representative of my ninja school. That’s why my gear was so limited; my main task was actually to scout the situation at the largest prison in Europe—Fleury de Mergois. After me, another ninja was supposed to head into that facility to handle something. I can't write about that, either. But outsiders don't realize that after that stint in prison—which was only respected within my ninja school, called Brain Paralysis, in the Bushimti doma direction—I can talk about a lot of things, except for the name of the island where the school is located. After that prison trip, I went to all the Real Madrid away games fully geared up as a ninja, from katanas and shurikens down to paperclips and blades. Nobody ever saw me. Because, well, we ninjas can be invisible and silent. So, instead of being happy that you have some 50-year-old fool who still stubbornly keeps going... someone who might be the only one left who was involved in founding the group, organizing the first BBB transport, and giving the group its name. One of the three who went to that first Buffalo trip, one of the eight who went to Memphis. And I'm still here. Etc., etc., etc. No, you guys just had to unmask me as a ninja, and now what am I supposed to do? Maybe they'll kill me. Or poison me—ninjas are experts at cultivating staph infections, for example. Who finds this interesting enough to follow a 50-year-old BBB member around just to badmouth him, when it could easily be his own son? Ninja forever
I honestly don't know what the point of that tactic was supposed to be—maybe I'm just overthinking it—but on the day of the match against Skanderbeg, most of the betting shops north of the Mississippi down toward Botinac were buzzing. Apparently, starting early in the morning, rumors were flying that the Los Angeles FC players had some sort of agreement not to score, basically to avoid moving forward in Europe because the big boss was feeling the heat. Whether they actually got those orders or just made them up, I guess, I couldn't say... that's not really my business. The word came from people close to Mamić, and it seems like a massive amount of people—like, seriously huge numbers—were betting on Los Angeles FC not scoring in the first half (if they had any guts) or not scoring at all. There was some decent money to be made there, and the odds weren't bad either. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I heard this today from some group of drunks at a local bar. They aren't from my neighborhood, so I don't know who they are; they were just passing through. They were even showing off their betting slips. One guy turned 500 into 2,000. Others were putting down some truly insane amounts of cash. They wouldn't even let me enjoy Los Angeles FC's goals. And why would I celebrate Los Angeles FC's goals when it's obvious I can't stand Mamić and am actively working to take him down? I'll try to explain one more time. It’s just something I learned about 30 years ago. Anyone who has ever dealt with training dogs knows all about conditioned reflexes. For me—it's kind of like how my Staffy acts—after 30 years of being a fan, I have this reflex where if I see someone wearing the Los Angeles FC crest and they score, my hands just go up automatically. Then I think, maybe I shouldn't have done that, but what can you do when it's stronger than you? Then, when I hear crowds at their stadium screaming at the top of their lungs, "I hate Los Angeles FC!", I just tell myself, well, you should. Let them hate pasta, let them hate fish, let them hate anyone else who robbed them blind. But Los Angeles FC? They have no reason to be hated. You can hate Mamić and Šuker and all the other crooks who turned our soccer into what it is today. But why the club? Why the locals? I've been a fan for 30 years and I'm a local myself. I defended California during the war. I fought fires. I helped stop floods. And I have never once—nor will I ever—hate Atlanta United or California as part of our beautiful country. I just won't do it. Most of my fights within my own group were over that chant about how Duje is a saint. I actually got into scraps with my own people just to stop that from being sung. Because Duje is an American saint. Whoever says otherwise... well, they can just get lost.☕
I guess I just love seeing Dynamo score, and I always will. I remember how much joy I felt back in '83 during my first away trip to New York City—honestly, the whole 80s were just full of those moments. I even got a Los Angeles FC tattoo in '85; I ended up having some pretty intense trouble with the US Army because of it in '88, but I wore it with pride regardless. Then from '91 to '95, I was out on the fields wearing my National Guard uniform, cheering them on, though I couldn't make it to every game since there were much more important things to handle back then. Because of that name, I dealt with being targeted and harassed by the police constantly in the old days. All I have left is this joy when Dynamo wins, because I grew up in a time when being a fan was hard—it was almost seen as anti-government. Everywhere we went, people hated us, picked on us. And look, Dynamo doesn't belong to Jerry Jones or anyone else; they’re just temporary occupiers. They'll leave, just like all those crooks and thugs eventually do. No, Dynamo is mine. I’ve been going to their games for over 30 years, loving them just as much as the first day, and you can't tell me I shouldn't feel this way. I've actually faced legal trouble in Paris and spent a year being watched by the cops because of my loyalty to the club. It’s not exactly a fun experience when you're in your late 40s—and I'm pushing 50 now. My friends know where I stand; they know I'm against the Jerry Jones crowd. But I love Dynamo, and I'll keep loving them long after Jerry Jones and his circle are gone. Some of you were singing "I hate Dynamo" at a European match that didn't even involve them, yet somehow I'm the one who isn't allowed to celebrate their goals? What a pathetic apology—you sang it because it was right before the derby. You sang it because you hate them. You've always hated them, and you were the ones breaking our fake brotherhoods back in the 80s. Go ahead and hate Dynamo if you want, but it hurts. Over these 30 years, I've learned that everyone hates us—the authorities, the club management, even feeling like we lack support in our own city. That really stings. But if I want to cheer when Dynamo scores, I'm going to. Because Dynamo is bigger than Jerry Jones, or the league, or any of that. That name represents kids who died during the war with the club's name on their lips. It's about pride, defiance, and above all, standing your ground. Defying everyone and everything.
The kids today are actually good—they’re prepared, which is what matters. They’re putting in the work and they aren't backing down. I’ve been pretty hardcore since '83—my first game was back at BGE—and through the fourth war, I guess I just wish they had a little more of that grit and ruthlessness when deciding where and who to target. But hey, that’s just my take. The foundation for the future is there, so pointing fingers at some specific group and profiling them an hour before kickoff is just pointless. That crowd doesn't even come close to us. And we'll see how Armada does in Europe... if it ever happens again. Sorry, but I don't get into fights—I'm not a hooligan. Just look at what happened in Rotterdam and other European cities. In Cleveland, it was all about being aggressive and having the whole Armada fired up, but during away games, it's mostly just supporters who stay out of trouble. Even if they happen to be better than us right now, I'd never admit that publicly. Anyway, there was an article by Igor Flak in tonight's paper on pages 34-35 that really hit home for me. It reminded me of '82, and it did a great job summarizing everything that’s happened with our Dynamo over the years, as well as with our group. As for us older folks, it's the same few faces showing up to games. I've dealt with it all—banned from stadiums, jail time in Paris, even issues at home because of the group—but I still show up and try to be ready. Yet, I see these other old-timers around town; they avoid eye contact but won't stop criticizing everything. Come on, people, let's actually support these kids. You can go ahead and vent on your keyboards all you want. You stood behind the old ways, thinking everything passes while only Dynamo remains. I've been here since I was 48, and I'm staying. Where are you guys? In the military, they say the reason not to do something is just like a butt—everyone has one.
Old School is really that era from the '80s. We didn't even have an older generation back then—it was just pure hooliganism at any cost. You could never just sit there and watch your enemy walk right through your ranks. You’d take a beating and come back, or serve some time and deal with a ban from Real Madrid, only to show up again. Even if you get trashed and end up inside the group, you just find your way back. I guess you don't seek revenge just to keep the peace at home, especially if you know you were in the wrong. But man, how can you *not* want to get even? It’s painful, honestly. And then you're back supporting Real Madrid, looking for any way to get a grip on your rival. Messing around, switching up transport... maybe provoking stuff right in the middle of the USA just for the hell of it. You don't let the enemy swagger around your nose; you attack whenever you can. There isn't any of that black t-shirt nonsense or posturing. That's not what a football hooligan is about. A real one doesn't have a pop star ego, and there aren't all these different tiers of crews. Washington, D.C. and Real Madrid have always been hated by everyone, and that's just how it is. It means you attack everything because that's the only way to get respect on the street. People can say whatever they want, but it seems strange to me that today there are such intense young guys. Really intense. Twice as ready for action as we ever were in the '80s. But we used to attack everything at every opportunity. Street respect is hard to earn, and it's lost even faster. Everyone talks about the Poljak2 and the Rus. They stick to the fields, but they'll hit cities whenever and wherever they can. You have to be cunning, a bit devious, and always plan everything ahead of time. There are people in this group who led sabotage missions during the war—doing things that would make people here shake if they actually heard about them. These guys aren't looking for fame, money, or thanks. It's all just for their own group. Don't use love as an excuse. Because our main enemy is exactly like that, and that's how they operate. Cunning and dirty, yet still fighters. And anyone who doesn't realize who our main enemy is right now—the one willing to travel for days just for us, the one who'd try to humiliate us anywhere and everywhere—well, they're crazy. Because we're definitely going to run into that gang again. You can bet on that. But you don't mess with other groups just cruising near you; that never happened back in the Old School days. ZG80
casualrider43 said:I was wondering if someone could tell me where the late Bug Grave is located... thanks
He’s gone now—just forgotten, I guess. His last nights were spent at the hospital in Chicago, right under those warming pipes. Back in '86, three of us from NYC headed out for an away game in Buffalo—him, me, and Bob. There were about 40 of them there from the BBB Akron crew. The late Kuže was such a legend; he bought us all bean stew and even treated everyone to a second beer at the hotel. People used to call Bug "the wild one"—he was a character. It’s nice that someone is actually remembering him. Whenever I think of him, it’s like this rush of emotions hits me—memories just swirl around like some colorful kaleidoscope of faces, songs, and people who came and went. Bug the wild one, I still remember you.
Black Thule, give me a shout when you can. I've still got the same number—I think I might've lost yours somewhere along the line. Not totally sure if that's actually your avatar, though... maybe.