As I’m not putting my memory dregs in years, with my last post, you’ll have ascertained that I’m attempting to recollect them in seasons. Arsenals last gasp winner at Anfield had not only rekindled my enthusiasm for football, but the Crystal Palace fancy dress party had ignited a desire to explore, and attend more Blues…… Continue reading Stepping Into The Unknown.
We shouldn’t have been surprised by how the season would end really. Things had been boiling for several years and they hadn’t been looked after properly. I know that’s a bit vague, a bit obtuse, so given this blog post, I’ll shed light on it. First of all, Ken Weldon, to bring in money to…… Continue reading Changes At The Top And The Bottom With Stodge In The Middle.
The first game I went to of Pendrey’s reign, I’ve already written about, so you’ll be extremely glad to know that I won’t be boring you by repeating any of that day. Or what was going on in my life. We’d started well. Very well in fact. Not only had we won our first 2…… Continue reading Hopping Over Broken Glass.
First of all, I didn’t need to be subsidised by family anymore, the government was doing it, and secondly, I had lost Les to a domestic bliss that would turn into Hell. That’s a story for him to tell you. It’s one of girl falls for boy, boy falls for girl three kids later and…… Continue reading A Bond Broken In The Dark.
As he went about dismantling Smith’s team after he’d been appointed, so Saunders did the same with the team that had been relegated. Or maybe that’s how it could’ve looked. In truth, it was an excuse to break up the circle of friends that had been causing off field mischief. Blake was sold to Portsmouth…… Continue reading Ending Up On The Wrong End Of A Yoyo.
Stories of what the team were getting up to have since become legendary. The nucleus was and in no particular order, local lads and Blues fans Robert Hopkins, who from now on, I’m just going to refer to as Hoppy simply because that’s what he prefers to be called, Noel Blake and Tony Coton, who…… Continue reading Crack In The Cup.
Picking up from where I left off, 82/83 season started early. I’d wasted my birthday money on a Blues shirt. For one week only, I was as proud as proud can be. The train drivers were on strike, but me being me, had this money burning a hole. I badgered Les to chaperone me to…… Continue reading Miracles And A Zulu Birth.
Coventry at home, first game of the season. Not only the first time I was to see Blues win, but the first and only time I was to see a kit that has gone down in football kit folklore. The change colours that Coventry wore that day made your eyes scream. it was hideous. So…… Continue reading Not Jones And French, But Smith And Saunders.
From a time when I could’ve played my ribs like a xylophone, (Had I had any musical talent of course, which I don’t.) to a time where I’ve conceded defeat to baldness, I’ve had fun with life, and life has, at times, got its own back, and has had fun at my expense. There’s still…… Continue reading Picking The Bones.
No, I haven’t got secretly married and it’s gone wrong…..again. Grounds are now referred to as stadiums, though I always felt that stadiums were something you watched athletics in. They’ve changed over the years. Even more dramatically since I’ve been watching the game. (Not down to me, I might add.) Even with disasters at both…… Continue reading Grounds For Divorce.