In about 1972 or so I must have finally decided that my twin brother, Paul, needed some competition, so I declared that I was a spurs fan. He was a Gooner, but a great one and he lived and died as the biggest Arsenal fanatic I’ve ever known. Despite my new found allegiance the first game I went to was with Paul and it was at Highbury to see a feisty match against Everton which culminated in an on-pitch bust-up 9as I recall. As a weeny teeny I winced at the big players laying into each other less than 20 feet away and didn’t fancy this any more. I never went to another Arsenal game that didn’t involve Spurs. The first time I remember going to a Spurs match was a couple of years later with my dad on 28th August 1976. I was 15 years young. Middlesbrough were as dull then as they always have been since and we were treated to a two steps forward, three steps back masterclass in anti-football, ending nil-nil.
That was the first and last game that my dad went to. As a grown-up neutral non-footy fan he must have thought he didn’t fancy this any more. Me, I was hooked. I went to a few more games during that fateful season with my older brother, Andy, who was a SpursNut too. Getting relegated was unpleasant but we had some good games on the way, particularly at the end of the season when we beat Villa and Leicester.
I went to most games in division two the following season, home and away. My trusty silver Sanyo transistor radio was my loyal companion and was clamped to my ear regularly, waiting to hear the results and cup draws. The last game at the Dell was the best match experience I had until 25th May 1984. This despite not being able to see sod all, stuck at the back as a teeny 17 year old in streams of piss. The atmosphere was unbelievable and the relief at the final whistle was indescribable. This was a nil-nil to die for. The great Burkinshaw squeezed us through by the skin of our teeth and we were back in the promised land.
Then the Argentines came and we were now the focus of attention. Trophies followed and I even went to Wembley with my sister, Angela, to see us retain the FA Cup. Thirty six years later and I’m still here, more hard-core Spurs than ever. Sadly, Paul, Andy, Angela and my dad aren’t. I love them all and I love you all here and many of those still on the other blog. I just can’t help myself!