A nostalgic recollection of the Cabbage & Ribs in Leith and its place in Hibs matchday culture
Hibernian fans in Leith are feeling the loss. The Cabbage & Ribs — a tiny pub just a few minutes’ walk from Easter Road — has closed, and for many supporters it was more than “a pub.” It was a matchday ritual, a place where friendships were sealed over pints, where chants and superstitions were passed along, and where the game’s mood was born long before kickoff.
Why the Cabbage & Ribs mattered
– It was the easiest place to meet. Its short stroll to the turnstiles made the pub a natural rendezvous for people coming from different corners of the city.
– It shaped matchday routines. Fans would arrive early to grab a spot, swap line-ups and predictions, and share that nervous excitement that turns into either celebration or consolation.
– It helped local livelihoods. Matchday crowds meant steady work for staff, extra fares for taxi drivers and business for nearby stalls and shops.
– It passed down fan culture. Nicknames, chants, rituals — the kind of stuff that doesn’t get written down — lived on in the pub’s booths and behind its bar.
How matchday life changed
The closure left a hole that’s both practical and emotional. Practically, people now have to find somewhere else to coordinate travel, buy last-minute tickets or meet friends before the game. Emotionally, the social glue that once gathered different generations in one physical spot is thinner: older supporters can’t as easily hand stories and traditions straight to younger fans in the same, lived way.
The pub was a kind of living archive. Photos tacked to the wall, little traditions performed out loud, the staff who knew everyone’s name — these all made matchdays feel like something you belonged to, not just something you watched. When that goes, the rituals don’t vanish overnight, but they do become harder to keep alive.
Ritual, consolation and practical help
Before and after games the Cabbage & Ribs was where people celebrated, argued about tactics, and comforted each other after bad results. It was also where practical things happened: carpool plans were made, spare tickets exchanged, last-minute directions given. Replacing those same informal, face-to-face interactions online or in scattered locations takes time and coordination.
What the community can do next
People aren’t helpless here — fans and local groups can act to preserve what the pub stood for, even if the building can’t be saved. Simple, practical steps will keep those matchday traditions alive and ease the transition:
- – Gather memories now. Record short oral histories, collect photos and save any memorabilia patrons want to contribute. Even phone-video interviews help.
- Pick new hangouts. Agree on at least one new official pre-match meeting spot within walking distance of Easter Road so routines stay simple.
- Share the story. Publish a brief guide to matchday traditions on club pages and social channels — three quick lines can remind people why these rituals matter.
- Work with local councils. Explore heritage listings or adaptive reuse options, and ask about support for community-led archives or plaques.
- Organize pop-up gatherings. Temporary meet-ups on matchdays keep people connected while longer-term plans come together.
Keeping memory alive without the walls
The community already does this naturally: people still tell the same old jokes, hum the same chants and stop at familiar corners on their way to the ground. Those small acts matter. They’re how an intangible local culture survives when the physical stage is gone.
This is also a chance to be intentional. If fans document stories, mark meeting points, and put a few rituals into the club’s official guides, they pass those traditions on deliberately, not just by chance. That makes it easier for new fans to plug in and for older supporters to see their memories preserved.
A final note
Places like the Cabbage & Ribs are irreplaceable in the short term. But communities are good at adapting. With a few conversations, a little coordination and some collected memories, the social life that grew up around Easter Road can keep thriving — even if it does so in new places and new formats. The pubs change, the streets evolve, but the routines and the people who make matchday special can carry on.
