From The Depths Of Despair....
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KeeeeeeeBaaaaaaab
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From The Depths Of Despair....
1987/88, then.
Fitting that it should be mentioned just as we prepare to meet the other "big" team in that division at the time. Thought I'd reserve a place for people to share their memories.
It had it's moments - a summer where we really, seriously thought the club was going to die before August, Normid being built, a very dark, violent day in Scarborough, another violent day in Barnsley in the cup, being tonked by teams like Colchester and Tranmere (before they were worth bothering about) - but then there were certain glimmers to keep the heart warm.
I remember put the nail in the coffin of Newport County by hitting them for six, and that was the first time people started thinking that we could go up. Then, soon afterwards, we annihilated Colchester 4-0 at home late on in the season and set up the greatest away day I've ever been on. I've spoken about it before.
Wrexham away. Not finding out my Dad was taking me until 11am that Saturday morning. The to-ing and fro-ing of the rumours of Scunthorpe v Torquay, which would have rendered our match redundant had Torquay won. Robbie Savage. JT getting sent off for having the ball kicked at him. The pitch invasion.
Better than when we won the Div Two at Maine Road. Beter than any Wembley or Millennium Stadium trip (I didn't go to the Reading play off). Better than the giant killing cup nights at Anfield or Goodison. It felt that, after all that we'd been though, Everything Was Going to Be All Right.
Fitting that it should be mentioned just as we prepare to meet the other "big" team in that division at the time. Thought I'd reserve a place for people to share their memories.
It had it's moments - a summer where we really, seriously thought the club was going to die before August, Normid being built, a very dark, violent day in Scarborough, another violent day in Barnsley in the cup, being tonked by teams like Colchester and Tranmere (before they were worth bothering about) - but then there were certain glimmers to keep the heart warm.
I remember put the nail in the coffin of Newport County by hitting them for six, and that was the first time people started thinking that we could go up. Then, soon afterwards, we annihilated Colchester 4-0 at home late on in the season and set up the greatest away day I've ever been on. I've spoken about it before.
Wrexham away. Not finding out my Dad was taking me until 11am that Saturday morning. The to-ing and fro-ing of the rumours of Scunthorpe v Torquay, which would have rendered our match redundant had Torquay won. Robbie Savage. JT getting sent off for having the ball kicked at him. The pitch invasion.
Better than when we won the Div Two at Maine Road. Beter than any Wembley or Millennium Stadium trip (I didn't go to the Reading play off). Better than the giant killing cup nights at Anfield or Goodison. It felt that, after all that we'd been though, Everything Was Going to Be All Right.
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Eire_Trotter
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William the White
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What a great start to a potentially great thread...
Mine...
I was in hospital, about to have an operation the next day to try and save my right hand (half managed - a precious half, that i use daily!)... and we were playing Blackburn away... and I was not going to be there when Frank Worthington scored the goal that finally meant we could dispose of 13 stupid seasons away from the top league...
He did it... the blessed Frankie... And the word spread amongst the ward in those days of long rows of beds, all men, legs and arms in plaster, in various conditions of drugdom, survivors of a mad range of mostly stupid accidents... and enough of us Wanderers fans to give it a grin...
I think that was the greatest match I never went to...
Mine...
I was in hospital, about to have an operation the next day to try and save my right hand (half managed - a precious half, that i use daily!)... and we were playing Blackburn away... and I was not going to be there when Frank Worthington scored the goal that finally meant we could dispose of 13 stupid seasons away from the top league...
He did it... the blessed Frankie... And the word spread amongst the ward in those days of long rows of beds, all men, legs and arms in plaster, in various conditions of drugdom, survivors of a mad range of mostly stupid accidents... and enough of us Wanderers fans to give it a grin...
I think that was the greatest match I never went to...
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KeeeeeeeBaaaaaaab
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Oh, I'm hoping someone will do the season more justice, because i was 12 at the time, so couldn't relate the emotional troughs in as fine a detail as a, say, tango or William or bish, who would have had more exeperience as hardy Bolton souls at that time as me. But I can wholly identify the iconic nature of having to experience that division. Makes me feel, womehow, more of a football fan than the Modern Football Fans who choose the teams they support based on Football Philosophy and Brand Strength and Social Kudos.
I was usually in the Manny Road Terrace that season (moving to the Burnden Paddock about 91), but I remember sitting in the Press Box a few times, as my Dad worked in there. Seeing the Burnden Paddock, one sorry looking stripe of people interrupting an expanse of concrete either side, which then blended into seat after seat in the Lever End. I think it was this season we managed 1,500 in Burnden. I'd been to livelier Reserve games.
But you still saw heroes in the team, despite the lowly nature of the club and the dark mood enveloping the club at the start of the season, which seemed to lift the longer the season went on. Sumo and JT up front were the most affectionately appreciated strike duo I remember, other than Reeves and Philliskirk. Of course there was Robbie Savage and his arse. Jeff Chandler was a returning hero who could do no wrong. Stuart Storer was appreciated for his pace. And Julian Darby was born in Farnworth.
I was usually in the Manny Road Terrace that season (moving to the Burnden Paddock about 91), but I remember sitting in the Press Box a few times, as my Dad worked in there. Seeing the Burnden Paddock, one sorry looking stripe of people interrupting an expanse of concrete either side, which then blended into seat after seat in the Lever End. I think it was this season we managed 1,500 in Burnden. I'd been to livelier Reserve games.
But you still saw heroes in the team, despite the lowly nature of the club and the dark mood enveloping the club at the start of the season, which seemed to lift the longer the season went on. Sumo and JT up front were the most affectionately appreciated strike duo I remember, other than Reeves and Philliskirk. Of course there was Robbie Savage and his arse. Jeff Chandler was a returning hero who could do no wrong. Stuart Storer was appreciated for his pace. And Julian Darby was born in Farnworth.
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hisroyalgingerness
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I shouldn't think I'd do it much justice, I was 6 
I'd have to dig it out but I'm sure my first game was Scarborough at home. Manny Road, got lifted over the turnstiles. Spent most of the season playing football at the bottom of the terraces with crushed cans.
Someone fill me in, might help me remember somert!
I'd have to dig it out but I'm sure my first game was Scarborough at home. Manny Road, got lifted over the turnstiles. Spent most of the season playing football at the bottom of the terraces with crushed cans.
Someone fill me in, might help me remember somert!
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KeeeeeeeBaaaaaaab
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KeeeeeeeBaaaaaaab wrote:Hahahahahahaha! Prufrock got conceived because of Normid!Prufrock wrote:Did out special happen nine months before the end of that season? Just wondering why I was born is all.
In a world that has decided
That it's going to lose its mind
Be more kind, my friends, try to be more kind.
That it's going to lose its mind
Be more kind, my friends, try to be more kind.
My first away game at Burnley will live long in the memory in terms of the fact my dad managed to convince my mum that it was safe and secondly nearly getting crushed after JT got a penalty late on in the game and we went on to win 1-0.
My memories of certain players has built them up into near mythological creatures Tony Caldwell, Julian Darby, Mark Winstanley, George Oghani (if only for allowing me to see the Wanderers at Wenbley in '86), Dave Sutton and Mark Came
My memories of certain players has built them up into near mythological creatures Tony Caldwell, Julian Darby, Mark Winstanley, George Oghani (if only for allowing me to see the Wanderers at Wenbley in '86), Dave Sutton and Mark Came
Pfffft.
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Dujon
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My 'depths of despair' were undoubtedly a bit different from yours, KeeeeeeeBaaaaaaab, but were real nevertheless.
In 1955 I was transported, by sea, to Australia. Also in 1955 overseas magazines were carried, just like me, by ships. A rule of thumb in those days was a four month wait for such treasures. There was no television at that time and newspapers, as best I could tell, didn't know what proper football was - you might have well as searched for the Canadian curling results as football information (from anywhere). In a sporting sense the following years were as dry as a fossil bone. As time went on my schooling and other interests got in the way. I became a football recluse, an eremite hidden amongst the heathen followers of various other codes of 'football'. Still, the situation did not improve. In fact I didn't know that we'd been in the fourth division until we were back in the third. You get the picture.
After my childhood years came marriage and a job, although not in that order. It wasn't a particularly well paid job (my first fortnightly pay - net - was £9/19/6) so expensive magazines were out. After that time came the purchase of a block of land and the building of a house. After that expense and the attached mortgage came children. Funny about that. By this time (mid-1970s) I was managing to glean at least some information about English football from the various media. Yes, television had finally arrived by then. The main problem was that they tended to concentrate on Div. 1 - and we weren't in it.
Then, from these years and years of despair came "The Internet". Oh, heaven, I thank you. I was a late adopter of the Internet as I could finally afford such a commitment in ca 1996. If I recall correctly my first modem handled 1200/64 bps - it probably sounds strange to some these days - but it suddenly gave me access to what was going on in the world; particularly the world of football.
Whilst I care about our club and how it's doing at any given moment of time it's the Internet that has given me the ability to access this seventh heaven, this overflowing cornucopia of information that has dragged me, like a simian with knuckles brushing the soil, into a brand new world of 'stuff'.
In 1955 I was transported, by sea, to Australia. Also in 1955 overseas magazines were carried, just like me, by ships. A rule of thumb in those days was a four month wait for such treasures. There was no television at that time and newspapers, as best I could tell, didn't know what proper football was - you might have well as searched for the Canadian curling results as football information (from anywhere). In a sporting sense the following years were as dry as a fossil bone. As time went on my schooling and other interests got in the way. I became a football recluse, an eremite hidden amongst the heathen followers of various other codes of 'football'. Still, the situation did not improve. In fact I didn't know that we'd been in the fourth division until we were back in the third. You get the picture.
After my childhood years came marriage and a job, although not in that order. It wasn't a particularly well paid job (my first fortnightly pay - net - was £9/19/6) so expensive magazines were out. After that time came the purchase of a block of land and the building of a house. After that expense and the attached mortgage came children. Funny about that. By this time (mid-1970s) I was managing to glean at least some information about English football from the various media. Yes, television had finally arrived by then. The main problem was that they tended to concentrate on Div. 1 - and we weren't in it.
Then, from these years and years of despair came "The Internet". Oh, heaven, I thank you. I was a late adopter of the Internet as I could finally afford such a commitment in ca 1996. If I recall correctly my first modem handled 1200/64 bps - it probably sounds strange to some these days - but it suddenly gave me access to what was going on in the world; particularly the world of football.
Whilst I care about our club and how it's doing at any given moment of time it's the Internet that has given me the ability to access this seventh heaven, this overflowing cornucopia of information that has dragged me, like a simian with knuckles brushing the soil, into a brand new world of 'stuff'.
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