If I look back into my past, one of the most constant things is Spurs. I started watching Spurs in 1976 and so can claim to be a supporter for 33 years. A third of a century in lilywhite and blue – more than a lifetime in some senses. I recognise that the club I supported then is not the same as the club I support now – it’s all a lot more commercial and a lot less fan-orientated now but nonetheless I’m Tottenham ‘til I die. (Every Spurs fan will recognise that phrase, as will every English footie fan, although it’ll probably go over the heads of people who’ve not been brought up with the great game.)
Anyway, early on in my Spurs life, the club blazed a trail that was, at the time, unique both in its audacity and its brilliance, although perhaps many footie fans now rue the day when buying foreign players started to change the English game irrevocably. Spurs were newly promoted to the top flight (which then was the First Division and not the Premiership) of English football and Argentina had just won the World Cup, with the help of Osvaldo Ardilles and Ricardo Villa. Keith Burkenshaw (the then Spurs manager) decided to woo the two aforementioned Argentinian stars to White Hart Lane and to wear the kit of the lilywhites. Woo hoo.
I was there…..well, not in Argentina when they signed, but at their first ever game in blue and white. I now know it was 19th August 1978 (the day before my 18th birthday) and the match was away at Nottingham Forest who were then the giants of English club football. So, a lowly newly promoted side against the giants. The contest was held in giant-land (otherwise known as The City Ground) and it was a blazing hot August day.
My memories of the day are being held in a cinder car park by the police, in the searing heat, with no shade or water for hours before the match. I understand that there were many, many fans with no tickets causing chaos. I was getting boiled. When we got inside the ground, the away supporters end was so crammed full that for much of the time, I was dangling in the air, supported by other people on all sides but without my feet on the ground. There was no shade and no water inside the ground either.
I remember fainting and being carried out of the crowd, with my boyfriend (Paul Williams) coming with me to behind the stand. Suddenly there was a huge roar from the Spurs fans and we’d scored. In fact, I’ve always believed it was Ossie Ardilles who’d scored but now, reading his autobiography, I see he thinks it was Ricky Villa and who am I to argue with one of this great pair of players. True Spurs legends. I was there. On the first day both players played for us.
Over the next few years, I was there for most games. I remember having a season ticket at the Lane with Paul and remember travelling to many away games too. later, I went to games with a crowd of Spurs fans from The Deane Arms in South Ruislip. Travelling to and from games in the back of a mini van with six blokes (not comfy), stopping in wood Green at the kebab house there on the way home for food before going back to the Deane.
Being there on the great day of the 1981 Cup Final (well the replay actually) was my pleasure too. I had not been able to get a ticket for the game on the Saturday afternoon – as is the case every year for many, many fans. On this occasion, Ricky Villa played really badly and was substituted. His dream, it seemed had come to an end.
After watching the match on TV, I set off from home (in my Ford Anglia) to White Hart Lane to queue for tickets for the replay. In those days, replays were a gift to real fans who then stood a half-decent chance of a ticket for the game simply by being prepared to queue all night. That wouldn’t happen any more either as tickets would now be sold online.
It was raining but there was a wonderful spirit at the Lane. My Dad turned up to wait with me later in the night and persuaded me to leave the queue at the Lane and go to Wembley, where it was much shorter – he’d done a reckie on the way to meet up with me. Not to mention you could queue in the dry there whereas at WHL I was getting soaked to the skin.
We went off to Wembley, queued for the rest of the night there and in the morning were rewarded with a pair of tickets for the match the coming Thursday evening.
That game is a Spurs legend in itself. Ricky Villa earned his right to the title of Spurs legend that night in the most comprehensive of manners. After his disappointment at the first match, he was the star of the game and scored probably the best goal ever scored in a Wembley Cup Final. I was there.
My parents bought me this book – Ossie’s Dream – Osvaldo Ardilles’s autobiography for my birthday. Not only that but they queued again (this time, my Mum with my Dad, rather than me) and met the great man. He signed a copy of his book for me. He’ll never know how much owning this book means to me. He’ll probably never understand how much Ossie’s Dream was our dream too. It was the dream of each and every one of us who were there every step of his way to becoming a Spurs legend.
It was our dream. We shared it. I was there. It was mine.
