Video transcript
Christmas Day, stockings, presents, a table groaning with food,
the Queen’s Speech. And the next day ……..?
Satsumas and cigars, put those smells together and I am at
the Boxing Day football match with my Dad. There’s
something special about that match and that smell transports
me straight back, and you don't need to add the smell of
leather footballs and new mown, freshly sprinkled grass
My Dad took me to my first football game – quite a bit different
experience to Usworth Park, him on the touchline with the
‘magic sponge’ and Mam ready to make the half-time tea.
Roker Park – standing in the Fulwell End about half way up just
on the walkway and in front of the barrier so that I could see
and Dad behind the barrier so I wouldn’t get pushed. This was
my favourite place, it wasn’t half as much fun sitting in the
Mainstand with players looking like teams in Subbuteo.
Going away to games like Wrexham or Nottingham Forest
when the fans took over the grounds to cheer on the lads paled
beside going to Anfield. For some reason, probably where Dad
had parked, we ended up standing in the Kop End scarves
carefully hidden under coats and then we scored….. inwardly
jumping up and down, outwardly a polite round of applause for
a goal well taken.
Wembley was a party time, fun and laughter on the coach. I
think every spare coach in the North East was heading south
full of red and white scarves and banners.
My favourite player was Gary Rowell and as we had sold him to
Norwich he was there that day, not playing because of injury
but there none the less. We lost the final, you could say
Norwich got the cream on that occasion and I cried, not
because we lost but because I couldn't see Gary Rowell when
the entire ground started chanting his name, it’s hard to see
the pitch from the car park.
It wasn’t always football, but there was always my Dad.
