JUNE 2008
26th April 1997 Promoted to the Premiership by animallittle
I never had a wink of sleep that Friday night,
I finished up getting up around 3am opened a can of Johns and put on a video
of the recent sky covered game against the blunts, the nerves were starting
to kick in and I felt sick with the tension, this was it, the big one, a win
over Bradford City and we were in the top flight for the first time in our
history after 110 years of trying.
I went into work around 5am I had not planned to but I needed something to
do and occupy the time, I just potted around for an hour or so and had a
coffee and a bit of breakfast.
At around 6.30am I drove down to Oakwell, parked the car and got out, I just
walked along Grove Street around the back of the Ponty and East Stand deep
in thought of what lay ahead later that afternoon, I was not alone either
there were at least a dozen people mingling about at that time, we just
nodded at one another and hoped everything would be ok, don't think words
were needed, we all knew why we were here at this time and the enormity of
what lay ahead that afternoon.
At 10 am the pre booked taxi pulled up outside my house, I kissed my then
wife and the lads goodbye, they wished me luck and I said I would meet her
later that night in town around 8pm no matter what happened, my 3 mates were
already in the cab and we just nodded, nothing much was said on the way into
town, all I knew was that I needed a pint and quickly and I had one in my
hand at around 10.25am in Yates', it was already full to the rafters and the
atmosphere inside was electric, 4 and half hours to kick off.
That
first pint went down in second's but the conversation had not yet turned to
the game that afternoon, nobody wanted to be the first to bring it up, we
just talked about the usual work, kids and how different things were going
to be under a Labour government (sadly we were wrong).
We moved on to the N0.7 and I got the beers in, when I plonked the pint's
down on the table the conversation had turned to an old mate of our's Tez or
Tez the Tyke as we all knew him, Tez had died 10 years ago under tragic
circumstance's and we all wondered if he was looking down on us on this of
all day's, Dave the Rave hoped he could perhaps help out in a divine
intervention sort of way, Mick said he'd better get his finger out because
he still owed him a tenner from just before he died, we all just fell about
laughing, the kind of humour you can get away with in these parts and no
doubt Tez was laughing along too with us.
We moved on from pub to pub the beers flowing, the atmosphere in the pub's
and the town was electric, plenty of singing, lads stood on the tables, beer
in one hand singing their hearts out, all the bar staff wore red and white
and the pubs were all coloured up inside with red and white balloons and
streamers, I kept thinking if we failed today it was going to be some
anti-climax.
The time ticked on towards 2 pm and we had to meet the old man in O'Neils
bar, a ritual we still keep to this day, when we got inside he was already
there with a pint in his hand," aye we better do it today boys because I
don't fancy us down at Oxford" was his opening line, no nether did I, it was
today or nowt as far as I was concerned.
That Saturday afternoon session we must have knocked back at least 8 or 9
pints and the truth is I would have passed any breath test the Police could
have produced, whatever chemical's the body produce's before events like
this made my alcohol in-take null and void.
The time ticked towards 2.30pm and we set off to the ground, I was a nervous
wreck and so was everybody else, the old man was very quiet, time to get our
game face's on.
As
the five of us made our way down the hill to Oakwell the first thing that
struck us was the ticket touts, they weren't selling they were trying to buy
and obviously had customer's on Grove Street waiting, they were getting
desperate too but I never saw anyone part with their treasured ticket and
their customers were to be disappointed.
We made our way to our seats and with 20 minutes to kick off Oakwell was
almost full to capacity, the noise was incredible, a huge flag was being
passed all the way along the East Stand and an even bigger one practically
covered the Ponty End, there were loads of red and white balloon's in
people's hands just waiting to be released when the teams entered the field,
Brazil flags too were everywhere, I have never witnessed an atmosphere like
it before or since than that 20 minutes prior to kick off, Oakwell was
rocking.
At 2.55 the two teams emerged from the tunnel and hundreds of those red and
white balloons were released into the air, it was a spectacular sight, but
the moment of truth had arrived and 90 minutes from now we would know our
fate,we wished one another good luck, Dave The Rave and Mick kissed my BFC
Tattoo which was a superstition thing we did back then and with the lads
kicking towards the Ponty in the first half we were away.
Id
love to tell you that this was a vintage red's performance and that we
fairly romped to victory, playing the sort of football that had coined the
"just like watching Brazil" song,but I would be telling porkies, the truth
is for 88 minutes this was the worst experience I have ever had watching my
beloved team, it was torture and at times I could hardly stand to watch the
game and wished I could be a normal person and just enjoy it, no such hope
it was bloody horrible.
We started off looking very nervous and edgy, we gave the ball away too
easily and we simply could not get our passing game going, Bradford were
hard-working and determined, they were fighting for their lives at the other
end of the table and were not going to lie down.
But in keeping with the occasion everytime a pass missed its intended target
the noise around Oakwell simply increased, everyone in the Ponty was stood
up, this was not a game to watch sat on your arse, myself, the old man, Dave
The Rave, Mick and Big Bri were kicking every ball and making all the
tackles, winching and groaning the torture written all over our face's,
nobody spoke to one another we simply shouted out loud and encouraged or
buried our head in our arms.
The lads responded and we started to get it together, Redders broke from
midfield and shot just over, Johnny Hendrie turned his marker and the keeper
made a decent save down to his right, and then on 30 minutes Oakwell
erupted, a quick throw and return was crossed in by Johnny Boy and Wilko
stooped low to head us into the lead, the ball seemed to take an age to
cross the line, but when it did we went ballistic, and for a few second's we
were released from all the anxiety and torture this day was having on us.
We now started to get control on the game and should have put it out of
Bradford's reach, both Nicky Eadan and Redders smacked efforts against the
cross bar when they really should have scored and Davidson the Bradford
keeper made a couple of outstanding saves from Johnny Boy and Wilko, we got
to half time 1-0 up and one foot in the Premiership.
During the half time interval we all talked about the missed chance's and my
old man said "Bradford will come out fighting even harder in the second half
and that this game was far from over", yeh cheers pop's just what we wanted
to hear.
The next 45 minutes was going to be hell and I wished I could be anywhere
other than at Oakwell at that moment, I started to make deals with god in my
head, I would start going to church if he could deliver the result we
wanted, I would start talking to my sister again anything that I have done
that's been wrong I was willing to change for this one victory.
My old man was dead right as he always was
of course, the old buzzard's been going down to Oak well since 1946 and he'd
seen most scenario's although he'd never experienced a day like today,
Bradford did come out in the second half a different team and we were
playing second fiddle all over the park.
We just could not get hold of the ball, and what made things worse was the
fact we were now kicking towards the kop end and Bradford were camped inside
our penalty area and right in front of where we sat, I just stood there with
my head bowed hardly daring to lift it and watch the action right in front
of me, we needed someone to dig us out of this hole and get a grip on this
game, but the players looked just as nervous and edgy as we did and Oakwell
was a different place now, gone was the party atmosphere that was now
replaced by raw nerves and tension.
Then came the turning point, they say your life flash's before your eyes in
the last few second's before you die, well I can relate to that, Edinhio the
little Bradford Brazilian skipped away from Eadan down the left and fired a
low inviting cross that cut our defence to ribbon's, Watson our young keeper
was caught in no man's land and the ball fell 6 yard's out to in-coming
Bradford forward Sundgot, with the goal at his mercy and time standing still
he somehow managed to smack the ball against the cross bar the ball landed
about 6 inch's outside the goal line and De Zeauw completed the clearance.
We could hardly believe he'd missed and my old man said we'd be alright now
and that luck was with us, that incident changed the whole second half, off
came Martin Bullock a nippy in the hole type of forward and on came
Shirtlcliff an experienced no nonsense defender and we started to see a bit
of day light.
We got hold of the ball and started to push Bradford back up the park and
the tension started to lift.......a little, every time I looked at my watch
it hardly seemed to move but as time ticked down Oakwell started to get its
party head back on and the noise increased.
On 85 minutes Marcelle replaced Wilko and then it happened, very often when
you are stuck at work or out walking the dog or even pretending to listen to
the wife rabbiting on about nothing in particular, you imagine how you would
react when THAT GOAL is scored, you know the one, the one that wins you the
FA cup or beats your local rival's in the last minute, I thought I would
lose all control and be jumping up and down in a mad frenzy, when Marcelle
received Redder's pass and broke into the penalty area weaving this way and
that before planting the ball into the far corner I just stood there, no
emotion, no celebration or anything, all around me people were going mad,
but I just stood there and watched, I guess the enormity of that goal was
just too much for me and I could not take it in, I always remember the match
announcer after that goal "the second and the goal that takes us into the
premiership scored by CLINT MARCELLE".
We'd done it after 110 years, we were there.
Now
with victory and promotion assured we could at last relax and enjoy the last
couple of minute's, the players too decided to end the match with a bit of
piss taking, Watson threw the ball out wide to Nicky Eadan and after a few
first time passes, dummy's and flicks Thommo our left wing back volleyed
from 25 yards and saw the ball crash against the Bradford cross bar, it
would have been some goal that and a fitting finale.
When the final whistle went myself, the Old Man, Dave The Rave, Big Bri and
Mick all hugged one another, more out of relief than anything else, we had
not simply watched a game of football we had survived it, probably the same
feeling you get when you awake from a triple by pass operation.
The players did a lap of honour along with hundreds of delirious fans who
had taken to the field to join them, I had managed to keep myself pretty
much together but when the lads appeared in front of the Ponty along with
Danny Wilson I started to cry unable to fight the tears pouring down my
cheeks, I was not alone either, big hard lads, ex pit men and steel workers
were also blubbering their eyes out and were not ashamed to do it either, I
saw the old man wipe a tear from his eye but he has since told me he simply
had something in it and don't be so daft...yeh right pops !!
We made our way out of Oakwell and into town, when we arrived in Peel Square
the party was just beginning, there were thousands there, people scaling up
lamp-posts, kids on their dads shoulder's waving flags, air horns blazing
out, cars were doing the town centre circuit, down Regent Street, along
Eldon Street North and back up Market Hill, tooting their horns, the
passengers hung out of the windows waving flags, people could hardly believe
this had happened and the joy and sheer happiness was etched on everyone's
face's, it was some sight and reminded me of the old black and white footage
of VE day in 1945.
As evening turned into night the party really got going, people came into
town from the surrounding villages, just to witness the scenes, take photo's
and just be part of something very very special and magical even though most
of them had probably never been anywhere near Oakwell in their lives.
The pubs were heaving and with the old man on his way home for his tea and
his Saturday night with my mam we got stuck into some serious celebration
drinking and to be honest that's where this story ends, because I have no
recall of the events much after 9pm and neither does anyone else in my
group, safe to say it was a good night all round and I woke up around 5am
the next morning on my front room carpet, fully clothed and according to my
then wife with a huge grin on my face, says it all really.
JUNE 2008
I saw my cousin at Wembley. He’s the same age as me…but better looking. I don’t see much of him…and when I do nowadays it’s usually at funerals. As kids we used to go to Rovers together with our dads. After the final whistle at Wembley, my cousin came up to me, and we shook hands. We looked at each other …and I thought to myself that he’s probably the only person who knew exactly how I felt at that moment in time. Like me he’s watched Rovers through thick and thin over the last forty years. He’s seen more bad times than good.
My cousin’s dad and my dad are brothers. They had an elder brother, my uncle Harry, who worked at Doncaster Rovers throughout the 1970s. Harry used give my cousin and I signed photos of the Rovers players, and other items of memorabilia. He was a huge Donny fan and in the 1940s, he along with his younger brothers and friends, would make the pilgrimage, by foot, from Armthorpe to Belle Vue where they would watch Donny in front of crowds in excess of twenty thousand spectators. I only wish he was around today to see the second coming of his beloved team. He died in 2000, just as Doncaster Rovers were about to enter a new era. I know a few older guys, passionate Donny fans, who passed away during the late 90s. At Wembley, I couldn’t help but spare a thought for these guys….maudlin feelings on one of the happiest days of my life. What was it Bill Shankly said? ‘Football isn’t about life or death, it’s more important than that’. All I can say is…..‘Here’s to you Uncle Harry, I hope they did you proud’.
JUNE 2008
Pre-season, and over the last few years, the expectations levels amongst the majority of Donny fans have been high. This coming season, no one really knows what to expect. I look at Scunny and remember how they tore teams apart in League One...but yet went on to struggle in the CCC. The same can be said about Southend and Luton before them. It’s the fear of the unknown….but then it would be, being that I wasn’t even born the last time Doncaster Rovers played in the second tier of English football. It would be great if we were able to emulate Bristol City, but at this stage last year they were buying million pound players. Nottm Forest have recently spent over £2½ million on Robert Earnshaw, so where does that leave little old Donny? The only activity we’ve seen thus far on the transfer front is Paul Green leaving us to join Derby County.
The last thing I want is for us to be involved in a relegation dog fight. It doesn’t take much for Donny fans to start calling for Sean O’Driscoll’s head….but then we are no worse that any other team I suppose.
I fervently hope we can go though next season without looking too closely over our shoulder. My heart says we can do just that, but my head tells me we’ll be closer to relegation than promotion. I’m finding it hard to offer any kind of prediction, one that I can enter with any degree of confidence. Donny were overwhelmed with accolades last season in the way we played nice football….I wonder if the same level of football can achieve similar level of success in the championship? Are the players we have good enough to step up to the next level? One thing for sure, we need the likes of James Coppinger to step up to the plate week, week out….and we need to be more clinical up front. Despite my concern though, I’m looking forward to the forthcoming season like never before.