Emotional history .........

As we have two weeks of navel gazing introspection ahead of us, thought I would offer an alternative and ask - what's the most emotional football related experience you have had?
I had tears of joy at the FA Cup semi at Highbury, and a genuine pride and sadness ( plus large lump in throat ) at the end of the World Cup semi in Turin. The (many) R's related disappointments leave me briefly angry rather than emotional.
But head and shoulders above everything else was the AC Milan v Real Madrid European Cup semi final in 1989. 1:1 in first leg, Milan's biggest game in years, 70,000 in the stadium. I had a spare ticket and was considering selling it outside the San Siro, but gave it away to a lad who was literally dumbstruck, so I was already feeling good about myself.
Match started, after 2 minutes the ref blew for a minutes silence ( this is the way to do it if you really want to show respect). It was the Wednesday after Hillsborough. After Heysel, there was no love lost on Liverpool in Italy, but led by the Ultras of the Brigate RossoNere and Fossa dei Leoni the whole stadium sang a perfect version of You'll Never Walk Alone - in English. I had tears streaming down my face by the end as did most of the people around me. A lesson in solidarity, common humanity and empathy which I believe is beyond any other sport. The Milan of Baresi, Maldini, Gullit, Van Basten and Rijkard went on to win 5-0 in the greatest display of total football against top opposition I have ever seen. But I still remember the singing more than anything else.I won't spoil the story by reflecting on the conduct of Liverpool FC and some of it's supporters recently.
Right, get your hankies out and tell your stories.....

 

That makes me think of Bill Shankly who once said 'Football isn't a matter of life or death, it's more important than that!'...

My own 'emotional experience' would be back in 1969, my brother-in-law Colin played for Crawley Town who were then in the old Southern League 1st Division. He'd been spotted playing in a Sunday League match and after a trial with their reserves was signed till the end of that season and paid the princely sum of £5 a match plus travelling expenses. I was 14 at the time and my best friend who was like a brother to me had just died following an asthma attack and I was totally in pieces. My sister said why don't I go to watch his matches just to try and get me out and back into some sort of normality. The team were doing well and in the top four, and I went to a few matches in their run-in. We'd travel down in one of the player's clapped out old Morris 1100, have a Wimpy and chips before they met up at the old Town Mead ground. Anyway, the final promotion place was between Crawley and Dartford and they met in the penultimate match of the season. I was there with my sister and I don't think I've ever been so nervous at a match. The old ground was packed to the rafters with almost 3,000 and a couple of hundred up trees and on top of the fence outside.

After a goalless first half Crawley scored early in the second half but were under the cosh and I was literally shaking and had butterflies in the stomach, I was kicking every ball as they hung on. Then, in injury time Colin picked up a pass (literally) on the edge of the box cut past his marker a banged it into the roof of the net for 2-0. Cue pandemonium as several hundred fans invaded the pitch and that was literally the last kick of the match me and sis were hugging each other in tears. When we eventually saw Colin in the clubhouse after the match he admitted he'd "Almost pulled the lace out of the ball" handling it before he beat the defender to score. I don't think I've physically experienced anything comparable since, but it gives me an insight into how the families of players must feel at matches.

 

Great great post.

So many emotional moments. My dad's family all emigrated to England in the 1950s. My Dad stayed in Ireland but went over periodically to work in England. They all settled in and around Harrow, but became QPR fans. Many of them and now there kids are season ticket holders. My Dad was obsessed with QPR. I remember every Saturday afternoon my dad would sit in his car and listen to the BBC football reports and then we would sit around the TV watching the old vidiprinter throw out the scores. Those were the days!!! My Dad died when i was young and although he had taken me to Loftus Rd we had never watched a match together. Several years later you can imagine my hidden disappointment when my son 8 year old announced that he was a Liverpool fan. My heart sank as my family consistently bought him liverpool paraphernalia. Last year i arranged to meet some of my cousins in London and watch the mighty super hoops play Leicester. My son and my brother decided to come. I knew this was my big chance to convert him to the blue and white. Loftus Rd was buzzing that day, even before the match. I wanted to get him a jersey before the match but alas, he refused, and my brother who is a loyal spuds fan was laughing at our small old stadium. I have been over to Loftus Rd many times but there was definately a special atmosphere around the ground that day. Leicester were making a charge up the league and i felt QPR were starting to get stage fright. But our fans were magnificent that day and when Miller scored late on the roof nearly came off the old place. My young son went mental with excitement. A grown man sitting beside me starting hugging my brother. After the match my son asked me to take him back down to the shop to buy a jersey. My brother gave me that 'knowing' smile as he knew the importance of the moment. The rest as they say is history,and i can proudly say we have one more supporter after that day. He now watches all the games on TV with me and we are planning on several trips over to Loftus Rd next season when we return from the Middle East. A proud third generation of Irish super hoops.

 

Great moments Sooper and Nuts. Isn't it interesting how well we write when recording a moment of real personal significance?
More please lads, just realized this is a great way to learn something about people that I have been communicating with for months without breaking the anonymity of the board which helps us to be honest.

 

QPR 999 - I was there as well. Puff Daddy's I'll be missing you was played (it was played at a funeral of a friend about 3 years earlier) and I had those memories coming back to me as well. never play that record when I DJ (although the tune is going round my head as I type ) as I fear I would end up wth a tear in my eye. seeing Ray's family walk onto the pitch and the crowd breaking out into "There's only one Ray Jones" was probably the moment the lump in my throat left me and I wiped a tear ( or more ) away.

So very very sad.

RIP Ray

 

Agree with 999 and Ninj. My Dad and I went to the game away at Southampton in March 2007 when Ray Jones scored. I was then ill for a few months so didn't get to any games, but the first game after I was better was the game after he passed away. Can't remember who we were playing or the score...but sitting in upper P block the emotion was immense...a very memorable day at QPR, albeit for tragic reasons.

 

Simple for me the lost of a mate on the pitch ... A great player manager and mate who had been on the books at his beloved Dundee United. He was found to have a small hole in the heart and since that day we still get together once in a while to play charity games ... what a team we were albeit just in a local league ... We gave all the country league teams we met in the cups a real thrashing... great days and memories including a small French tour where we were thrashed and given a real lesson in football.... The scalp of a Dagneham and Redbridge side

 

Brutal DT, but a great way to remember. You also jogged a suppressed memory. I played in a pub team, The Racana, in Italy. Had some decent players, ex Southampton and Portsmouth apprentices, ex Atalanta reserve team and me, a crap non overlapping right back. Great fun, great drinking mates we even won the mini World Cup in '90, playing as England coming back from 0-3 to beat Italy 4-3 in the final in a one day tournament also featuring Egypt, Ethiopia and a 3 course lunch with wine. The guy who set the team up ( the Portsmouth apprentice) became a very strong friend based on a shared twisted sense of humour and love of The Smiths, David Lynch and dope. Became godfather to his first kid. A week after I left Italy got a call from his wife, he'd been killed in a car crash, late twenties.
Your post has galvanized me to get the Racana guys back together. Think our knees are too ****ed to play, but we can still drink.....

 

How much time do any of us have ... hence my outlook on life ... Fire Walk with Me

 

I wish my story was as poignant and heart felt as the above but, alas mine is built around greed!!!
Living in the USA through the early 90s when the World Cup came to town. Having an Italian mother and the fact England failed to qualify, the Azzurri would get my total support. After losing to the mighty Republic in there first game, i came under a barrage of abuse from every plastic paddy in the New England area but unpertured and full of bravado i placed almost every penny i had on Italy to win the World Cup. I remember being at Foxboro stadium to watch the mighty(and slightly injured) Roberto Baggio finish of the mighty Spanish, then almost single handedly dispached the Bulgarians. Well we all know what happened next. i went from the verge of being fairly well off for a while to having **** all, all on one penelty kick!!

 

FA cup replay nuff said?

 

When i was 16 (many years ago) and first started going to see Rangers my dad was never interested in taking me. Not his fault, just he was a working man who had many other things to deal with. So my best mate said i could come along with him and his Dad.
Bill (My mates Dad) was a proper Londoner, loved Rangers through and through and never missed a game. For the next few years he would take us home and away, and when we offered him money for petrol for the journey to some far off corner of the country he would either refuse or accept a minimal amount to make us feel like we paid our way. After the first season as a gift for taking us to all the games a bought him a Rangers scarf that he then wore constantly for many seasons after and i was so proud knowing that i had bought it for him.
What really made me choke up was at his funeral a few years later i found out how much he appreciated the gift i'd got him and that he had said many times how he enjoyed our company. He was a lovely man who will always be missed , RIP.

 

Uhhm....errr....Wellll..... Pretty hard to top your story really. I think I cried when Gareth Southgate missed his penalty in Euro '96, but ever since that fateful night I vowed never to cry again. You could literally hold my eyelids open with toothpicks and pour blended onions onto my retinas and I wouldn't cry.

Oh wait, I cried at the last home match when I spilt my Balti pie on the floor without even getting to eat a bite. Damn you Pukka Pies!! DAMN YOU ALL!!!!!!!