A century of the Dockers derby: how Millwall and West Ham's rivalry was forged in London's docks

Forged in the docks, fuelled by myth and memory

When Millwall hosted West Ham at the Den on Saturday, it was the clubs' 100th competitive meeting and their first in 14 years. The pair are separated and connected by the Thames, and both were formed around the heavy industries of east London's docklands in the late 19th century — Millwall on the Isle of Dogs and Thames Ironworks, from which West Ham emerged, around Canning Town.

Before Millwall relocated south of the river to New Cross in 1910, both clubs were north of the Thames and only a little over two miles apart. The Lions, as Millwall were known as the Dockers during their formative years, and the Irons — West Ham's nickname referencing workers at the Thames Ironworks and Shipbuilding Company — drew on a world of precarious, physically demanding labour. As the Guardian's photo essay notes: "Dock work was precarious and physically demanding. Men could turn up each morning with no guarantee of being chosen for work, and competition for a day's labour could be fierce."

That world fostered ideas of toughness, loyalty and hard work which still form part of how both clubs understand and present themselves.

The enduring General Strike myth

With histories stretching back so far, it can be difficult to separate fact from folklore. One enduring story places the origins of the rivalry in the General Strike of 1926, when West Ham dock workers supposedly supported the strike while those at Millwall did not. Historians David Sullivan and Brian Belton dispute that version. Belton says the strike was solid in the Millwall docks, while only a handful of workers broke ranks around Canning Town. Yet the story has survived for a century and become part of the mythology surrounding the fixture.

From company teams to flashpoints

The clubs' histories first crossed in the 1890s, when Millwall Athletic played Thames Ironworks. Belton cautions against treating Thames simply as an earlier West Ham, as the company team was dissolved before the new club was formed in 1900. Sullivan and Belton both question the idea of an ancient Dockers Derby; much of the hostility associated with the fixture today developed later, particularly during the 1970s.

There was serious disorder at Harry Cripps's testimonial in 1972, despite Cripps being well-loved at both clubs, and in 1976 a Millwall supporter died after falling from a train, with some believing West Ham supporters were involved. When the clubs met competitively again in 1978 after a long absence, violence accompanied the fixture.

Industrial decline and football identity

It is perhaps more than coincidence that the rivalry intensified during the same period in which the industrial world from which both clubs had emerged was disappearing. London's docks were closing, traditional industries were shedding tens of thousands of jobs and many surrounding communities were experiencing unemployment and economic decline. It would be too simplistic to draw a direct line between industrial decline and football hooliganism, but the two occurred concurrently. Football offered a place in which territory, masculinity, belonging and local pride could still be asserted at a time when some of the institutions that had previously provided those identities were disappearing.

The modern era: 2009 and beyond

Through the 1980s, 90s and early 2000s, the reputation of the rivalry was reinforced by occasional but memorable flashpoints. The most notorious came at Upton Park in 2009, when a League Cup tie was overshadowed by fighting outside the stadium, a stabbing and pitch invasions. Their two Championship meetings in 2011-12 passed without anything approaching the disorder of 2009, and after that they did not meet competitively again until this season.

Both clubs carry reputations for violence, reinforced by films such as ID and Green Street, and the Dockers Derby amplifies that mythology further. Millwall and West Ham have now played one another across three centuries. The docks that gave the fixture its name have largely disappeared, the clubs have moved further apart and competitive meetings have become increasingly rare. But the competition over what each club represents, and the need to distinguish one side from the other, has survived.

To an outsider, the similarities between Millwall and West Ham can appear greater than their differences. Many supporters have friends or relatives on the other side, and both clubs draw heavily on values of working-class London such as toughness, loyalty and authenticity. Yet when they meet there remains real animosity among sections of both fanbases — perhaps part of what gives the rivalry its intensity, as each competes to claim itself as the more authentic expression of the same place and culture.