I mean the amount of dough I've had to spend getting those old programmes back for my collection and he could've just passed them down to me. You know what I mean !!!
My Dad's Mum used to live in those great big flats in Green Dragon Lane and we used to visit her before a game and I'd peer out of her window on the 17th floor and see the hallowed turf of Griffin Park before me. It was a great view from her window.
He first took me in 1967, when I was only 7 years old. We played Chester and we beat them 3-1. We used to stand over in the New Road. Same place every week, with the same crowd, down near the front by the halfway line.
Sometimes when we had a big game and new supporters converged on our bit of terrace, they'd be a bit shocked at the verbal my Ol' Man would come out with. He was or is loud and at the start of a game, we'd be crammed together shoulder to shoulder, but a little while into the game and after he had hollered his stuff at the team, the masses beside us would slowly move away, to save their eardrums. To tell you the truth it was a little embarrassing for a minor like myself at the time, but I'm just as enthusiastic myself now. I reckon that nigh on every corpuscle in my body is red and white striped. It's a great club and if anything ever happened to them, I'd never be able to support another. It's a way of life.
Later in life I took my daughter to games and she loved it, joining in the songs and singing her little heart out. She tragically died on New Years Eve 1994. It was extremely painful coming back to watch games and listen to those songs she had joined in with. For a while afterwards I nearly gave up on it all (literally), but with the help of my family and friends they pulled me through.
But that's why though, Me Ol' Man ¡K the geezer with the booming voice!
My Dad's Mum used to live in those great big flats in Green Dragon Lane and we used to visit her before a game and I'd peer out of her window on the 17th floor and see the hallowed turf of Griffin Park before me. It was a great view from her window.
He first took me in 1967, when I was only 7 years old. We played Chester and we beat them 3-1. We used to stand over in the New Road. Same place every week, with the same crowd, down near the front by the halfway line.
Sometimes when we had a big game and new supporters converged on our bit of terrace, they'd be a bit shocked at the verbal my Ol' Man would come out with. He was or is loud and at the start of a game, we'd be crammed together shoulder to shoulder, but a little while into the game and after he had hollered his stuff at the team, the masses beside us would slowly move away, to save their eardrums. To tell you the truth it was a little embarrassing for a minor like myself at the time, but I'm just as enthusiastic myself now. I reckon that nigh on every corpuscle in my body is red and white striped. It's a great club and if anything ever happened to them, I'd never be able to support another. It's a way of life.
Later in life I took my daughter to games and she loved it, joining in the songs and singing her little heart out. She tragically died on New Years Eve 1994. It was extremely painful coming back to watch games and listen to those songs she had joined in with. For a while afterwards I nearly gave up on it all (literally), but with the help of my family and friends they pulled me through.
But that's why though, Me Ol' Man ¡K the geezer with the booming voice!