Christmas 1987. Many reading this probably won’t remember it all that well. I’d say 50% of my readership will have been like me, in single-digit ages at best.
I remember it. We were living at Chambers Farm Cottages near Wragby, and for Christmas, family had come up from Exeter. That included my cool Uncle Keith, an Exeter City fan who was a bit of a rogue at the time. I’d hoped so much to be going to watch the Imps with him, but Dad had other ideas. This was prime drinking time, and in 1987, very few nine-year-old boys were allowed in pubs, certainly not the ones my Dad went in. I had to stay at home.
Gutted doesn’t cover it. I’d seen us thrash Bath and Enfield, fight our way to a win against Barnet, and then struggle against Weymouth. I’d seen our fine FA Cup win against Crewe, and I was eager to get back to the Bank. Dad promised I’d be allowed to go, but not on this day. I stayed at home, kicking three plastic bags wrapped tightly together with elastic bands around the lounge in my socks, while Colin Murphy’s Imps sought a chance to go second in the table. They did promise to bring me a programme, and the screenshot is that exact programme.
The opponent was Kidderminster Harriers, a side we’ve since met on no fewer than 21 occasions. This was the first meeting, and one which I’ll always remember for not being there. I was the odd one out as well – more than 4,000 went to the game, our second-highest attendance of the season up to that point.
We like to see a quick start at the Bank, and this Christmas cracker was no exception. Within minutes, Bobby Cumming had fired us into the lead, and by the tenth minute, an atrocious bit of defending saw a corner run across the goal line, where Clive Evans was on hand to bundle home. City were 2-0 up before 3:10 pm, which was good news. While Barnet were putting six past Sutton in a London derby, Cheltenham were doing their best to beat Weymouth 2-0.
The ease with which the Imps scored suggested we might go on to rout the hosts, described by the Echo’s Julie Sherbourn as ‘average’. Instead, we gifted Kim Casey a goal making it 2-1. Still, Phil Bronw tee’d up Shane Nicholson for our third, restoring the 3-1 lead before half time.
After the break, injury problems bit hard. Mick Waitt was out, injured in a Halloween horror-show against Cheltenham, and John McGinley was missing through an eye infection. That led to Mark Sertori leading the line, but he hobbled off in the 54th minute, and Kidderminster seized their chance. Nigel Batch parried a shot into the path of Casey, who bagged a second.
There was one thing that nobody could contest – value for money, and no sooner had the hosts scored that City made it 4-2. Cumming slipped the ball through to Paul Smith, and the former Port Vale man slotted home. Still the visitors wouldn’t roll over and die – Batch came rushing out to meet Clive Boxall, only for the striker to sqaure it at last minute, leaving Jon Barton to roll into an empty net.
City were wasteful in front of goal, and those at the game would surely have said it could have been eight, not least after Brown was clearly felled in the area, only for the referee to wave play on. As it was, we never went behind, and despite Kidderminster’s brave resistance, the game was finally killed off by sub Dave Clarke, on for Sertori. Late on, as Paul Jones rushed out of the Kiddie goal, Clarke lofted the ball over the top, finishing the scoring at 5-3.
The result lifted the Imps into second place, five points shy of Barry Fry’s Barnet having both played 22 games. It looked like it might be a futile race to the title, but as we know, City triumphed in the end.
As for the sad nine-year-old kicking what was probably now two plastic bags wrapped in sellotape around the room (those elastic bands always broke), it would be more than three months before I got back to the Bank – Boston on April 4th. After that I was something of a regular, Stafford, Maidstone and Wycombe on the final day (I might have been at the Wealdstone game as well, but it’s the one thing I can’t remember), watching on in my first full season as the Imps won the title.
Many years later, studying hypnosis, we did current life regression, and I went back to that day against Wycombe, surrounded by my family on the Railway terracing. At the end of the session, the other pupil couldn’t bring me back as I refused, so the tutor had to come and deal with it. That tells you two things: firstly, how much I loved that season and secondly, how much not being at this 28th December 1987 game must have hurt!
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