I remember my dad parking the car and walking towards the floodlights, my dad putting me in the kids queue for the Platt Lane end, the queue was much shorter than the dads, standing and waiting on the other side of the turnstyles as dad had instructed, waiting as hundreds of men with magnum style moustaches passed me, everyone looking like my dad, finally he came through and held my hand again, 10p for a programme, walkg through the tunnel in the corner and entering gods own arena for the first time, the Kippax packed, the small of piped tobacco, coloured wooden benches and dads vegatable soup at half time, full time and 6-0 to my new blue heroes, a life long love affair had begun, thank you Dad