Following Huddersfield Town has been in my blood since I can remember. Cold afternoons standing with my dad at the old Leeds Road ground, a flask of hot coffee on the way home, and the inevitable disappointment that I think every football fan probably thinks is synonymous with their team. To pick one memory out of all the dramatic moments that I’ve been there for is difficult, but there is one – that now ranks behind only the birth of my child and my wedding day – as the third greatest day of my life, that is probably the one that gets closest to being the memory.
After what seemed an age of competing at the top end of League One under Lee Clark, and the heartbreaking disappointment of Old Trafford in 2011, when we capitulated in the second half of a play off final, giving Peterborough and their gloating, arrogant fans (not all, I’m sure, but certainly the ones I saw/came across) a promotion, everything came down, again, to a play off final. Sheffield United, at Wembley. 26th May 2012. The journey down was a long one, and it seemed fairly surreal, even as we took our seats, that there was a very real chance that we could suffer fate as the previous year. Defeat didn’t really seem like an option. We’d tried everything we could, and had been stuck around the apex of League One for a good five years, to no avail.
The 90 minutes passed without a footballing move of any note; it was an utterly joyless and insipid game, played in around 30 degree heat, which had a major impact on extra time. That, too, was almost eventless. Although everything was heightened, both emotion wise, and temperature wise, it seemed as if every one of the 22 players on the pitch at any one time were just absolutely petrified of losing. We’d been backed on account of Jordan Rhodes’s incredible season, where he’d already amassed around 3000 goals by the beginning of the game, but even the great Jordan couldn’t get anywhere near leathering in a winner.
Anyway, almost inevitably, it came down to penalties. Bloody horrible feeling. I’m genuinely feeling nervy as I write this. Eeeesh. We missed our first three – again, almost inevitably – and my group of pals and I very nearly left. Utterly, utterly despondent, we watched Andy Taylor trot forward for Sheffield United, and if he popped it in, we had another year journeying to Tranmere, Oldham and Rochdale. EXCEPT HE DIDN’T! He smacked the post.
On, and on, and on, and on, and on it went. Until it came down to the goalkeepers. Alex Smithies – Hudders born and bred – absolutely LEATHERED it down the middle. Nobody was stopping it; not a chance. It was like a missile through Steve Simonsen. So, the final kick was to be that man: Steve Simonsen.
I could almost sense that it was going to happen. He trotted up, got underneath it, and it sailed – Waddle in Italia ’90 esque – into oblivion. I have never known a feeling like it. Utter euphoria; unbridled, unashamed joy. I cried tears I didn’t even know were there; I’d assumed I’d be dehydrated considering the few pints I’d had, and the incessant heat. But that moment, that beautiful, beautiful and brilliant moment, is exactly the reason I watch football, and why Huddersfield Town will always be my third love.
We had a good night, that night. Sunday was a struggle…
Matthew Burton
Matthew is Assistant Headteacher and an English Teacher at Thornhill Community Academy, the school featured in the wonderful Channel 4 series 'Educating Yorkshire'.
Musharaf had a problem with his stammer and with the speaking part of his English GCSE contributing towards 20% of his final mark Mr Burton came up with an innovative and amazing solution.
Watch the video that made the Internet cry and then please vote for Educating Yorkshire in the Best Documentary category in the National TV Awards. Paul O'Grady doesn't need any more awards and Educating Yorkshire was superb television, this was possibly the most moving and inspirational TV of 2013.
Vote for Educating Yorkshire in the Best Documentary here
Memory added on January 12, 2014
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