What’s the most significant game of football you have attended?
It may well be Newcastle v Portsmouth in 1992 and that David Kelly goal which saved us from the 3rd division and possible oblivion.
Of course, the obvious would be Wembley last year, when we finally achieved what I had started to think would never happen.
However, for me it’s way way back in 1976. Leeds United v Newcastle United, 2-2 and a cracking Paul Cannell equaliser in front of thousands of daft lads.
Let me explain why.
In the summer of 1976, when Tyneside was hotter than Spain, I was due to sit my exams (called O levels back then), but as I was a 16 year old lad with the brain of a four month old spaniel, I decided that rather than attend my exams, I would spend the days down the park with my very friendly girlfriend.
It seemed a much more productive way to spend the time.
Surprisingly, I leave school with no qualifications.
My father is not a happy man.
A few months later we get to my 17th birthday and it falls on the same day as Leeds United away. Despite the fact that I’m now on my final warning with my dad, there is only one way I am spending the day and that’s on a football special train to Leeds.
I’m dressed in my absolutely mint birthday present, a leather coat bought off the market. Well I thought it was leather, but as it cost a fiver, I am now thinking it was probably plastic.
It didn’t matter, I loved it and five quid was a fair amount of money for my Dad to shell out.
The game is brilliant, played to a backdrop of real hostility between the fans. My mind may now be playing tricks, but I remember spending the 90 minutes on a human tidal wave, ending the game 100 yards from where I started it.
When the game ends, West Yorkshire plod come up with a cunning plan to stop the Geordies causing bother.
Those who came on the coaches are surrounded by a ring of coppers and marched to their transport, however, what about those of us needing to get to the train station?
The police decide to let us out in small groups of 10 or 20, so we can’t cause trouble. No bother from us…but the memo obviously didn’t get to the hundreds of Leeds fans waiting for us en route to the station.
The next hour was hell, culminating in my new “leather” jacket being slashed by a Stanley knife as I try to scamper over a mesh fence.
We finally make it back to the station, far too late for our train, therefore I don’t get home until about 11pm.
My dad goes completely ape. He tells me that it’s over. I’m out of the house.
Where on earth am I going to go?
Don’t worry about that lad, you will see.
And so, 36 hours later, I’m being put in my dad’s Triumph 2000 and being driven to the Army careers office.
“You cannot be serious Dad”
“Oh yes I am son”
So in I go and after just five minutes in my company, the recruitment sergeant tells me I have so much hidden potential. And he has just the job for me.
Well who would have thought that?
By the end of the visit I am signed up and a few weeks later I’m heading to Sutton Coldfield, getting my beloved Noddy Holder haircut shorn off.
What the hell just happened?
This sliding doors moment would start off a chain of events that would give me a trade, friends for 50 years and introduce me to my future wife.
It has ultimately led to me having a very good life but I do sometimes wonder…
What if?
What if I had got the bus down, instead of the train?
What if I hadn’t worn my expensive new coat and just worn my denim jacket?
What if I could have ran a bit faster and scampered over the fence quicker?
But I didn’t and I couldn’t.
So I guess it’s thank you to the Leeds United skinhead who slashed my coat.
Because Leeds United v Newcastle United in 1976 changed my life.