I was 24 when I went to the European Cup final with my school friend Richard, joining around 12,000 Aston Villa fans in Rotterdam.
We took the football special from New Street station the night before the game to Folkestone to catch the early morning crossing to Ostend and then on to Rotterdam. Very few supporters went by plane.
Match tickets were handed out onboard due to the authorities having an understandable fear of them falling into the wrong hands. This was after hooliganism had marred our away leg of the semi-final against Anderlecht.
There were no mobile phones and no Euros either. It was a different world, but it was more raw.
The four hours before kick-off were filled partly by watching what seemed to be a 50-a-side game amongst supporters, drinking in what I think was a Feyenoord supporters’ bar and mingling with Bayern Munich fans.
Upon entering the stadium, the warm early evening sunshine lent an air of unreality. It definitely felt like the European Cup final when the likes of Karl Heinz-Rummenigge and Paul Breitner emerged on to the pitch. When Des Bremner and Ken McNaught came out I thought to myself: What are Villa doing here?
Throughout the entirety of the tournament, our squad seemed to be the most human and fragile set of people and everybody we faced were like world beaters.
Although he had gone by the time of the final itself, I think that Ron Saunders had instilled, to use one of his famous quotes, a mentality of “do you want to bet against us?” We were underestimated, but used this as a strength.
Our seats were in the upper tier behind one of the goals and naturally we stood all game. I recall Jimmy Rimmer shaking his head after he was forced off in the first half with an injury. Upon seeing his replacement Nigel Spink running towards us, I too began to shake my head. He made some very good saves though.
From that point on the game seemed to go on forever, but I thought that something was on when Tony Morley faced up to one of the Bayern defenders. Then came what was eventually the match winner from Peter Withe – split seconds that last a lifetime.
From where we were standing I could see that the ball had come off of his shin, I thought that he’d missed it. Fortunately the ball went in off the post and after an initial moment of panic came utter joy. Richard’s watch had flown off his hand in the celebrations and he spent the next minute looking for and retrieving it.
At full time, seeing the cup glint and flash in the presentation reminded me that this was no ordinary day – Aston Villa had just won the European Cup. We’d done something to earn us a place in football history, the likes of which even Arsenal and Tottenham have not managed.
On the way back home, I bought drinks in an Ostend bar with a combination of pounds, guilders and Belgian francs. A police van slid by and thankfully thought better of it.
I remember being at Arsenal when we won the League in 1981 and I’d compare arriving back to Birmingham from London with arriving back from Rotterdam. On both occasions I breathed out and said “I’m back home”, feeling like I’d brought something back from war.
Getting off the train at a sunny New Street station in the early afternoon and seeing shoppers made it seem like a normal day, but it was not. I did think that, like your education, it was something they could never take away from me.
That evening I watched the FA Cup final replay between Tottenham and QPR and my West Bromwich Albion friends tried to avoid the real topic of interest.
I think that the current team is a bit like that one in that they are underestimated. You’ve got to dream and you’ve got to imagine.
I’m hoping to win against PSG but I didn’t ever expect us to be in the Champions League. Around 20 years ago I was watching a game in the pub with my now wife and I said: “We’ll never play in a game like this.” But here we are.
I was 24 when I went to the European Cup final with my school friend Richard, joining around 12,000 Aston Villa fans in Rotterdam.
We took the football special from New Street station the night before the game to Folkestone to catch the early morning crossing to Ostend and then on to Rotterdam. Very few supporters went by plane.
Match tickets were handed out onboard due to the authorities having an understandable fear of them falling into the wrong hands. This was after hooliganism had marred our away leg of the semi-final against Anderlecht.
There were no mobile phones and no Euros either. It was a different world, but it was more raw.
The four hours before kick-off were filled partly by watching what seemed to be a 50-a-side game amongst supporters, drinking in what I think was a Feyenoord supporters’ bar and mingling with Bayern Munich fans.
Upon entering the stadium, the warm early evening sunshine lent an air of unreality. It definitely felt like the European Cup final when the likes of Karl Heinz-Rummenigge and Paul Breitner emerged on to the pitch. When Des Bremner and Ken McNaught came out I thought to myself: What are Villa doing here?
Throughout the entirety of the tournament, our squad seemed to be the most human and fragile set of people and everybody we faced were like world beaters.
Although he had gone by the time of the final itself, I think that Ron Saunders had instilled, to use one of his famous quotes, a mentality of “do you want to bet against us?” We were underestimated, but used this as a strength.
Our seats were in the upper tier behind one of the goals and naturally we stood all game. I recall Jimmy Rimmer shaking his head after he was forced off in the first half with an injury. Upon seeing his replacement Nigel Spink running towards us, I too began to shake my head. He made some very good saves though.
From that point on the game seemed to go on forever, but I thought that something was on when Tony Morley faced up to one of the Bayern defenders. Then came what was eventually the match winner from Peter Withe – split seconds that last a lifetime.
From where we were standing I could see that the ball had come off of his shin, I thought that he’d missed it. Fortunately the ball went in off the post and after an initial moment of panic came utter joy. Richard’s watch had flown off his hand in the celebrations and he spent the next minute looking for and retrieving it.
At full time, seeing the cup glint and flash in the presentation reminded me that this was no ordinary day – Aston Villa had just won the European Cup. We’d done something to earn us a place in football history, the likes of which even Arsenal and Tottenham have not managed.
On the way back home, I bought drinks in an Ostend bar with a combination of pounds, guilders and Belgian francs. A police van slid by and thankfully thought better of it.
I remember being at Arsenal when we won the League in 1981 and I’d compare arriving back to Birmingham from London with arriving back from Rotterdam. On both occasions I breathed out and said “I’m back home”, feeling like I’d brought something back from war.
Getting off the train at a sunny New Street station in the early afternoon and seeing shoppers made it seem like a normal day, but it was not. I did think that, like your education, it was something they could never take away from me.
That evening I watched the FA Cup final replay between Tottenham and QPR and my West Bromwich Albion friends tried to avoid the real topic of interest.
I think that the current team is a bit like that one in that they are underestimated. You’ve got to dream and you’ve got to imagine.
I’m hoping to win against PSG but I didn’t ever expect us to be in the Champions League. Around 20 years ago I was watching a game in the pub with my now wife and I said: “We’ll never play in a game like this.” But here we are.
