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Deep in the annals of history and the simple beginnings.
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11 May 2011
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It was almost 28 years ago since I attended my first Chelsea game and saw Clive Walker score the goal that kept Chelsea in Division 2 at the home sides expense, bearing in mind we didn't have a pot to piss in in those days, Division 3 could have been the end of the club. As it was, it was the start of my journey. And could have been argued as to being one of the most important games in my clubs history.
Being a little Northern boy lost and for some unknown reason falling under the spell of a club in the despairs of mediocrosy, I wasn't allowed to go to the big shiny lights that are London, so had to make do with going with mates to see Preston and Blackpool but it helped prepare me as they were even shitter than we were
I did manage to get in the odd FA Cup Game as my team came upto the Northern backwaters, but for some unknown reason we kept losing, early cup exits to teams like Scunthorpe, Scarborough, etc weren't exactly what I had signed up for. But trips to stand in the Stretford End and The Kop to watch Chelsea with friends and their parents gave me an insight of to what to expect when seeing big sides and for some daft reasons we actually did quite well on visits to Old Trafford and that quite often got me in trouble, as keeping quiet isn't my thing.
In Division 2 (old money) in 1988/89 I started to actually make trips to see my team and managed 10 games as we stormed to the title and were back in the big time and a very tasty afternoon out at Maine Road saw us virtually wrap up promotion and we partied away as Tony Dorigo ran the full length of the pitch to score the goal that won the game 3-2 and pretty much guaranteed the title.
From this point I have pretty much done 10-12 games a year, mostly at clubs of the Northern variety interspersed with home games, and trips to strange places called Wembley (where we won obscure trophies with funny sounding names, but a day out and a trophy is a trophy). And in the more recent times because of some crazy Russian bloke we have actually acheived things previously thought impossible, but hey lets not worry about that
Being a little Northern boy lost and for some unknown reason falling under the spell of a club in the despairs of mediocrosy, I wasn't allowed to go to the big shiny lights that are London, so had to make do with going with mates to see Preston and Blackpool but it helped prepare me as they were even shitter than we were
I did manage to get in the odd FA Cup Game as my team came upto the Northern backwaters, but for some unknown reason we kept losing, early cup exits to teams like Scunthorpe, Scarborough, etc weren't exactly what I had signed up for. But trips to stand in the Stretford End and The Kop to watch Chelsea with friends and their parents gave me an insight of to what to expect when seeing big sides and for some daft reasons we actually did quite well on visits to Old Trafford and that quite often got me in trouble, as keeping quiet isn't my thing.
In Division 2 (old money) in 1988/89 I started to actually make trips to see my team and managed 10 games as we stormed to the title and were back in the big time and a very tasty afternoon out at Maine Road saw us virtually wrap up promotion and we partied away as Tony Dorigo ran the full length of the pitch to score the goal that won the game 3-2 and pretty much guaranteed the title.
From this point I have pretty much done 10-12 games a year, mostly at clubs of the Northern variety interspersed with home games, and trips to strange places called Wembley (where we won obscure trophies with funny sounding names, but a day out and a trophy is a trophy). And in the more recent times because of some crazy Russian bloke we have actually acheived things previously thought impossible, but hey lets not worry about that
