my first game, was a dire 1-1 draw with Wimbledon at Maine Road.

Mark Ward scored an equalising penalty right infront of me (in the Platt Lane end- past a moustached Nigel Martin), whilst my dad listened to the England v France grand slam decider on someones radio.
i was only 8, but hooked ever since. i just gazed at the kippax for most of the game, freezing cold.
i dont understand why i went back, i still dont understand why i go now. the best thing about it though is reading all the other memories, like wembley, and derby wins. at first i thought how lucky, but my first match was a shocker, i know what to expect each week, and if you go often enough once in a blue moon, you’ll actually enjoy it.
KEEP THE FAITH!