"Looking back it's so bizarre, it runs in the family, all the things we are. On the back seat of the car with Joseph and Emily, we only see so far -And we all have our daddy's eyes, looking back it's so bizarre." They were the words that would reverberate from my Dad's Ford Cortina on a Saturday Afternoon. The days before Saturday afternoon football, when I was too young to be left alone with my Lo-lo ball watching Fall Guy repeats. Radio Solent would tease us blind with news of a goal, by use of that familiar synthesized cliffhanger jingle. Presenter Grant Coleman would postulate further: "There's been a goal at...." Yes Grant, where? "At...The," yes, where? "There's been a G-g-goal," said Grant, far too aware of the attention he was drawing to himself. "At....The.......Wait for it!" Where Grant? Where? You fuckhound! This isn't pay per minute on Clubcall, I just want to know if Saints are now four down at Kenilworth Road! "There's been a Goal at Kenilworth Road," he said, finally. "Here's John Hughes to tell us more."
"Yes Grant," said the reporter, who later found himself in the commentating netherworld, covering F.A. Vase ties between Havant and Waterlooville versus Little Wallop under Lyme Regis. "There's been a goal at Kenilworth Road." I know there's a fucking goal at Kenilworth Road John, I've just had Grant Coleman prick teasing me for the last minute an a half!
By now I'm chomping down hard on my Fox Glacier mint - this is very precarious when
you've still got a head full of milk teeth. On it went 'til I was old enough to cruise 'round on my three speed Grifter on a weekend diet of Nerds - shortly before they were pulled from the market after a tip off that they were spiked with shards of glass. Well, if our pitch doesn't pass a pitch inspection tomorrow, we'll be able to relive those warm nostalgic climes.