I’m from Nantwich in Cheshire but oddly enough the first football match I ever went to was actually at Molineux . It was 1968 and I was eight years old. My Dad and a friend of his took me to see Wolverhampton Wanderers, who had some top players including Derek Dougan take on the great Leeds United side containing Billy Bremner, Peter Lorimer, Norman Hunter et al. My Dad spent the journey telling me how great Leeds were and obviously it being my first game I was looking forward to seeing a great match with lots of goals. We sat in the main stand in the seats rather than stand on the terrace as even in ’68 my Dad was growing increasingly concerned about the threat of hooliganism. It was a fantastic atmosphere but the game itself actually turned out to be a very disappointing 0-0 draw, not what you want for your first match. My abiding memory of the game though is of absolutely everyone smoking! There was just a huge cloud of smoke rising.
I then started watching Nantwich Town in the Cheshire League. 9d to get in, if you were lucky there might be 200 watching. I can still imagine the smell of crisps and Bovril. It was my local team, it was easy to go see them, I could go with my mates or go on my own from an early age.
I watched Nantwich but you had to support a big team too and probably like two thirds of the kids in my class it was Manchester United. Bobby Charlton was my idol from the first moment I saw football on TV. I never went to see them play though, my Dad wouldn’t take me. We went to watch local games, our big treat was to go watch Crewe Alexandra or maybe a big trip of twenty miles to watch Gordon Banks play at Stoke City.
The first game I actually watched as a kid all the way through was during the World Cup in 1966. It was the Soviet Union v West Germany in the semi-final. I really wanted the Soviet Union to win. My Mum kept calling me through for my tea but I was determined to watch to the end. I think my allegiance to the Soviets on that occasion came from them not being Germany (!) but also my Grandfather was a socialist, so the Soviet Union were obviously the good guys in my young mind.
I was only six and my abiding memory of the final is playing with my Lego. My Mum, Dad and Sister were watching and I was kind of, but games do seem to go on a long time when you are that age. I was definitely more interested in that semi-final. So everyone had to watch the game with the noise of me playing Lego as I lost interest when the game went into extra-time. I do remember vividly my Dad, who was scrupulously fair with everything (almost to the point of winding people up with his fairness) stating very clearly the ball didn’t cross the line and it wasn’t a goal. “That wasn’t over the line, he’s going to give it isn’t he, it wasn’t over the line” He just kept saying it. That was the way my Dad was.
Most Memorable Game?
When I was ten my parents moved to Sussex, so first I convinced my Dad and then I started going with my mates to watch Brighton & Hove Albion. My first game at Brighton was fantastic. I wasn’t a fan at that point, though I was to become one. The game was televised and Brian Clough was the manager. It was on The Big Match. Brighton & Hove Albion 2 v Bristol Rovers 8! There is a film footage of a very young Nigel Clough sat on the bench with his Dad during this utter humiliation. I do remember the Brighton fans singing “we want three”. Despite that, I started supporting them because I have always supported my local team wherever I’ve lived. I went to Wembley and saw them at the FA Cup Final and at the Replay but the most exciting time was when we won promotion to Division One at St James’ Park. I was at university in Liverpool by then and endured a scary drive with my mates over the Pennines to Newcastle. There were Sunderland fans heading over in the opposite direction, going to a game v Wrexham which they had to win and we nearly got cornered by some of them in a remote Pennine village
Watching Brighton in those days there might be a tiny bit of trouble if we played Portsmouth but by and large there was never any trouble. Going to Newcastle was a whole different ball game. We were attacked en masse when we got there! There were some Sunderland fans in the crowd as they needed the Magpies to win and they started fighting too. It felt like the Wild West compared to our usual quiet existence! We secured promotion and went on to the pitch at the final whistle. We all took little divots of the St James’ Park pitch and I still have my little patch of grass.
How you ever got 32,000 people into the Goldstone Ground I don’t know. Looking back it was a fantastic period, with Alan Mullery as manager. It was just a small club that had made it to the big time. Great memories, crap ground!
Kevin Moore
National Football Museum @footballmuseum
Memory added on April 9, 2014
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