There are four statues of black British people in the United Kingdom. Three of them are of footballers. Nurse, and unsung contemporary of Florence Nightingale, Mary Seacole takes her place alongside the first black professional footballer Arthur Wharton, war hero Walter Tull, and ‘the three degrees’, as named by manager Ron Atkinson, when they played together for West Bromwich Albion. Actual names: Cyrille Regis, Lawrie Cunningham and Brendon Batson.

Their lives and careers feature heavily in Pitch Black, social science lecturer Emy Onuora’s story of black British footballers, and it’s no surprise. As black football pioneers, they, more than their black predecessors who were viewed more as an occasional novelty, paved the way for the acceptance of black footballers in a British professional game that was largely, and overtly, racist. They helped build bridges between the club and black communities in the West Midlands, and became role models for the next generation of young, gifted, black players. By the time Cyrille Regis played his last professional game, for Chester City in 1996, racism was heading for the exit in most British football grounds.

Emy grew up following football in the 70s and 80s: 

“Nothing got blown away with the emergence of the three degrees. What it did do was inspire generations of footballers who came after them and who cite them as influences - if they can do it, I can do it. The generation of people who came just after them almost bow down to them, paving the way for other black players to come through.”

In his book Emy discusses not only the players, but the context within which racism was allowed to thrive in political, social and media institutions. Tensions around policies such as Stop and Search, or sus laws as they were widely known, which enabled police officers to stop a person they suspected of criminal activity. An unjustifiably large proportion were non-white. Riots rooted in racial unrest were a feature of the early- to mid-80s.

He talks about how authorities seemingly allowed racism to prosper outside grounds, while clubs were indifferent to widespread racism on the terraces, and remembers Match of the Day accompanied by a soundtrack of depressingly familiar racist abuse each time a black player received the ball. Occasionally a commentator felt compelled to show his disapproval, but largely, the media was silently complicit. Anti-racism campaigners on the other hand were treated as trouble-makers. Incidentally, the paltry fines handed out to clubs whose fans have been found guilty of racism within grounds, compared to those who transgress, for example, financial agreements (see Nicklas Bendtner’s sponsorship row during the 2012 European Championships) suggests that the attitudes and priorities of football authorities attitudes are still somewhat at odds with popular opinion. The Kick Out Racism campaigns of recent years have helped to highlight the continuing struggle to rid football of racism for good.

Racist publications such as the National Front’s Bulldog magazine, sold in and around most football grounds, proudly compiled tables of the most racist fans. Everton fans regularly featured, and it can’t have been easy for Emy to grow up a  fan of the club. He remembers his initial first-hand experience of football racism at around 12 years old, when striker Garth Crooks was targeted, as Everton took on Stoke, and in football generally, things got worse before they got better. “In the 80s I must admit, it was really just an unpleasant place to go and watch football,” he says.

As a season ticket holder he avoided the derby – normally the must-see game of the season – following Liverpool’s signing of John Barnes because he “couldn’t handle what I knew was going to happen - I wasn’t scared for my own safety. I subsequently found out from lads who did go that it was particularly bad.” For his part, Barnes took it with his usual on-field grace and panache, famously kicking the banana that had been hurled onto the pitch (and probably putting it into the top corner).

Talking to Emy about attending football matches in the 70s and 80s, phrases such as “poisonous atmosphere” and “wave of abuse” crop up a lot, and he remembers thinking, “'what am I paying good money here to sit through this?’, and taking my child along, as well. I’d always considered myself an anti-racist, so why wasn’t I boycotting it? I was always challenging it but you get fed up, for the most part my protestations were pretty futile.”

As the 90s progressed, though, racism became increasingly unfashionable. Along with increased public exposure of football matches through lucrative tv deals, a generational shift, perhaps, saw increasing intolerance towards social and racial prejudice generally (although some may argue that immigration issues have now become the focus of many dormant racists’ ire). Emy’s club too saw the light, with the introduction of quality players like Kevin Campbell (who was also made captain).

“Nowadays it’s kind of nice going to the match,” he says, “There are a few black faces there, not many, but I feel safe. More overt racism in society as a whole is just not tolerated any more. The ‘n’ word is probably the most offensive word in the English language.”

Identity is often contradictory, and never less than complex. As well as being the supporter of a club during “some particularly dark periods”, Emy’s Nigerian heritage provided a direct link to a family that experienced a life outside of the UK. How did he feel about growing up as part of a Nigerian family living in Britain? What was his relationship with the England football team, for instance?

“There was this idea that being black and British were incompatible: that saying, there aint no black in the Union Jack, that’s the generation I grew up with, so me and other people of that age consciously rejected the idea of Englishness, because the idea of Englishness was a very exclusive one. It was a definition of Englishness that didn’t include me. So, like a lot of people my age, I just rejected the whole idea of Englishness, and English football. And it’s never really returned, so I’ve never been an England fan in that respect.”

His children’s experience of living in England is ‘radically different’:  

“They may still be six times more likely to be stopped and searched, and I remember my young lad went through a whole period where he was consistently stopped and searched, but in general they’ve grown up in a society that has radically shifted in its relationship with black communities, and also with racism as well, where overt racism is no longer tolerated. There are still covert forms, but certainly the overt forms of racism are just not tolerated.”

And they now watch football games in an atmosphere that is now largely free of racist pollution, although there may be other reasons for them not to attend – ticket prices being one. But that’s another article.

Emy was in conversation with pop star, football campaigner, writer, and Edge Hill University Honorary Doctor of Philosophy Peter Hooton on Wednesday 10 February, discussing his book, the universe and everything. Both guests had some history in football fanzine production, the preferred medium of comment, protest and general cultural insight for the discerning independent football fan in the 70s and 80s. Emy co-edited What’s the Score, a Merseyside-based rag, while Peter produced The End, a ‘zine for and by Liverpool FC supporters. Emy appreciates their value, especially in providing a soapbox for football fans who found publications such as Bulldog offensive and dangerous:

“I loved The End, it was really funny, and I also liked the fact that the fanzine always had a kind of anti-racist stance at a time when it wasn’t fashionable to be anti-racist at a football match. Once fanzines got going, every team began to have one. In the 80s at any rate, every one of them had certain principles attached to them. They were always a bit anti-establishment, always anti-football establishment, anti-club establishment, and also anti-racist.”

Fanzines played a role in changing attitudes towards many things, black footballers certainly being one of them. So, with 30 per cent of English professional footballers black, and professionals from most corners of the globe now established regulars in most, if not all, British football teams, who does Emy regard as the stand out black player from those distant days when professional black footballers were still looking for acceptance?

Many of the players are cited in his book - he liked Mark Walters, Gary Thompson and Danny Thomas at Coventry [and later Spurs], Garth Crooks. But ultimately he grudgingly nominates John Barnes, even though he “played for the wrong team”:

“It’s not exactly scientific, but when I did a survey [while researching the book] about the best black British player [Barnes] was overwhelmingly cited as the best black British footballer, and I think he’s a worthy winner.”

But ultimately, Emy reserves most respect for the three degrees - Regis, Cunningham and Batson - who started a football revolution:

“An important part of the post-Windrush generation is football, it’s an integral part of its history, and those three have played a pivotal role.”