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Tom Heywood

I was there, 2nd in the queue for the Wolves game to get a token so that I was eligible for a ticket for the Liverpool FA cup match. The ones when the floodlights went out at 1-1, the rematch was also 1-1 and Andy Llewellyn broke Robbie Fowler’s leg, putting him out of the replay at Anfield. 

My brother was a lucky one, he got a ticket to the replay turning up at the turnstile, being in Manchester at Uni made the journey easier. My Mum and Dad wouldn’t allow a 14-year-old all that way on a school night, especially when I had a Subbuteo tournament to play in! Believe it or not, even with a bitten right index fingernail I was able to flick to a pretty good standard. On the night of the replay I was handicapped by having a radio stuck to my left ear listening to the game as I glided my little men across the AstroTurf.

So as we all know, Tinnion scored, City were wearing that awful purple and lime green effort, and Junior Bent was at his best at nearly being a really, really good winger. When that goal went in, I abandoned my Subbuteo match like salad at a buffet, went on a five-lap run around the hut, came back in, slid on my knees on the polished wooden floor and asked “we did score didn’t we?” I would have looked a fool.

I may not have been there in body, but having queued for my token, celebrated the Wayne Allison goals in the East End, I deserved my chance at last, to mock all those glory hunting fans at school who refused to follow a local team. Magic!

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