This week I have learned:
- the sad news that my “football dad” Roger passed away after many years of ill health.
In the 1970s, growing up in Watford, something magical was happening in the town which, to be blunt, lacked any sense of identity plonked as it was on the outskirts of great London. That magical happening was what Graham Taylor and Elton John were doing at the football club. It was like Ryan Reynolds and the other chap but in 1976.
My dad was never much interested in football. But our neighbour Roger was, so for my eighth birthday, he took me to my first match, a 3-0 demolition of Dagenham in the first round proper of the FA Cup. Ross Jenkins scored a hat-trick. We sat in the main stand. I was hooked.
Roger continued to take me to matches over the years, and from those lowly third-division days, we rose up the leagues and in 1983 he took me as we played Everton for our very first game in the English top flight. We won two-nil and Pat Rice scored his first ever professional goal in that match, a double delight for me as a Northern Ireland fan too.
For my twelfth birthday, it was a trip to Anfield to watch Watford play Liverpool, the best team in Europe, as near as equals as we have ever been in history.
In 1984 we, along with half the town, descended on Wembley for the club’s first-ever appearance at an FA Cup final. The stuff of Roy of the Rovers (Melchester, of course, also playing in Yellow and Red).
It has been a very long time since Roger took me to a match. But occasional trips to Vicarage Road are still in my diary after all these years, just about the only place in my life that I visit today that I visited when I was at primary school. No matter the results, and boy I’ve seen some stinkers as well as the high points, Watford’s ground is a very special place for me. And that’s down to Roger as much as it was to Graham and Elton. Gone now, but won’t be forgotten.
Next week: TBD (tickets still available)
The week in photos:
mmitII 