I recently discussed our attendance at the '89 final with my longest standing friend. We had often recalled going together, as we tended to walk to london grounds together*. What I hadn't remembered was that we had also gone with my friends brother. Perhaps even more embarrassingly he didn't remember that either.
I don't know anyone with a reliable memory of anything. I have no idea how many were there. I don't even know who went with me.
* Like from quite a long way away, depending on where they were. We also rarely had tickets. In those days ordinary people could mostly just turn up at a ground and gain admittance. Thatcher was at war with football fans, and frogmarching, kettling, and arresting as many as possible, so there wasn't a lot of tourism, high prices, and lack of availability. Though we did once walk from central london (well, zone one) to white hart lane for an evening cup match**, only to find that it was all ticket when we got there. I mark that as the beginning of the end.
** Memory may be incorrect, factually speaking, as it came out of my head
Similarly 1998 ish recall waking up in halls of residence at 10am on a Saturday, sending a few texts to mates in various parts of the country, and deciding there and then that we'd go to Preston away or whatever. Down to the station, £10 on the train, £20 pay on the gate, all good.
I took my son up to the Man Utd academy at the Cliff training ground a few weeks ago as he had a tournament there. I was surprised that the drinks and snacks were free for parents and could only assume Jim Radcliffe was unaware of this nice gesture.
I was at the Gary parker super goal game at the Simod cup final. Was that the 89 one? It was a great game and also at the old wembley where the view was a fuck ton better. Had a great time that day. Best Wembley visit ever. The Championship play off game was more Jon Moss relief and happiness than being thrilled.
For our first league cup....the first proper trophy under cloughie, I was skiing in Andalo (Italy). The one local with some english was our instructor, whose only actual english words were "Nel Cross-ski". Systematically interrogating him about the result, it took until the thursday to find out that it had gone to a replay on the wednesday. By that time we decided to just find out the result when we got home...though the Saturday papers had finally started to turn up.
You come out with a lot of guff but “the view at the old Wembley was much better??” They even sold cheaper tickets because you were sat behind a post.
Also, time for my Gary Parker story?