Those were top sporting days my friends - let’s hope they will never end

IT is the worst of times; it is the best of times.

Apologies to Charles Dickens there but that does seem the situation concerning the world of non-sport at the moment.

It is the worst of times because coronavirus has robbed us of any live action – professional darters trying to make a fist of it from their garages or man-caves notwithstanding.

It is also the best of times because sports writers the length and breadth of the country have been providing top-class coverage of the games they love despite the enforced hibernation.

While I admit it cannot go on ad infinitum, you will be hard-pressed to find more informative, imaginative, entertaining and thought-provoking pieces online or in print than those that have been appearing in The Yorkshire Post during the lockdown.

I rarely disagree with esteemed cricket correspondent and colleague Chris Waters but I am at odds with his recent column stating that sport is irrelevant at this time of crisis.

To my mind, never has it been more important – just read recent articles on how cricket and football lifted the spirit of a nation during the two World Wars to realise its relevance to the British way of life.

I digress. The purpose of this series is to reflect on memorable events covered or games attended.

Dipping into my rapidly fading memory bank and leaving cricket to one side, I will try to concentrate on incidents that spring to mind over a lengthy association with sport.

Watching Huddersfield at Fartown and being passed over the turnstiles is my earliest sporting recollection plus the fact that it always seemed to rain or hail as we stood shivering on the terrace during the days of winter rugby league.

I also recall my first trip to football, being driven by a disabled neighbour in his unstable three-wheeler car.

The destination was Leeds Road to watch Huddersfield Town. The first three games I attended all ended goalless so I have never had any high expectations of Town since – achievements being made more memorable by their rarity.

Even more bizarrely, the two players who caught my eye at the time were not the flamboyant forwards or wingers but two central defenders, Peter Dinsdale and John Coddington, who could best be described as looking like the meanest of nightclub bouncers but more difficult to get past.

Strangely, as I grew older, several of us went to watch Leeds United one week and Town the next, largely uncaring of the animosity between the two sets of fans.

Further up our valley, several lads made the trip to Old Trafford one week before also attending Leeds Road the next – it must have been something to do with the train times.

Watching Leeds was a delight in those days and, in particular my all-time football hero, Eddie Gray – left-footers must always stick together, of course.

You never knew from one week to the next if he was going to be fit or not but when he was on-song there was no better dribbler of the ball despite the atrocious state of pitches.

In fact, when the ball reached Eddie, time seemed to stand still as he put his foot on it before deciding whether to jink left or right past his man, beating him with disdain with that almost hunched up run of his.

Be convinced of his talent by taking a look at various YouTube footages of this sublime Scotsman.

The most memorable game I watched at Elland Road was that inspired night in 1975 when over 50,000 packed the ground to witness Leeds defeating Barcelona, led by Dutch legend Johan Cruyff, 2-1 in the first leg of the European Cup semi-final with goals from Bremner and Allan Clarke.

It is the only time I have left a football ground at the final whistle without my feet touching the floor, such was the crush exiting the Gelderd End.

Back to Leeds Road and later across the river to the new ground.

In the days of football hooliganism, it was certainly unwise of the Town fans to sing ‘You’ll never take the Cowshed’ especially when the gate leading from behind the goal to the main terrace had been left unlocked.

It led to hordes of Manchester United followers flooding through for a right set-to with home fans.

By then, of course, Town had reached the First Division in 1970 – the season they adopted the sobriquet The Terriers – under probably the club’s best post-war manager, Ian Greaves, until a certain David Wagner came along.

Life at the top was short-lived but a realistic Town director told me he would be content if he spent the rest of his days watching the club in the Championship.

He had, of course, recalled that famous ‘love-in’ between Town and Barnsley fans on the last day of the season in 2013 when both clubs escaped relegation by the skin of their teeth by virtue of a draw, which was only contrived in the closing minutes as Reds goalkeeper Luke Steele ran down the clock by retaining possession unchallenged.

No-one who was there will ever forget the chants of ‘Yorkshire, Yorkshire’ echoing around the stadium as supporters flooded the pitch to embrace at the final whistle.

Cometh the hour and cometh the man and it was Wagner who led Town into the Premier League against all the odds.

It all led to another unforgettable last-match afternoon for, after survival had been guaranteed at Chelsea, it was Town fans as much as Arsenal’s who gave Arsene Wenger the ovation he deserved in his last match as Gunners manager.

Covering Emley and Guiseley at the old Wembley and privileged to get tickets for Three Lions games against Brazil and Argentina; missing Wayne Rooney’s 50th England goal at the new stadium due to a call of nature...

The modesty of World Cup winner Ray Wilson in interview; the night a yellow haze from the gas works shrouded Leeds Road as promotion to the First Division, assured in the previous game at Ayresome Park, was celebrated; stricken Tony Leighton’s emotional testimonial match at the old ground; sharing a bottle of whisky with Denis Law before he switched on the new floodlights at Leeds Road Playing Fields (I only had a wee dram!)...

Stunned at being allowed straight into the Leeds Rhinos dressing room for interviews after the Super League Grand Final – something that never happens in football – and being fortunate to attend the Higgins v White snooker semi-final classic at The Crucible.

Those were the days and let us trust there are more waiting just around the corner.

Editor’s note: first and foremost - and rarely have I written down these words with more sincerity - I hope this finds you well.

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Sincerely. Thank you.

James Mitchinson

Editor