The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
I expect everyone remembers the very first football match that they ever went to, it's such a big event that it remains forever indelibly imprinted onto your mind. The first match I ever saw was between third division teams Plymouth Argyle and Brighton. Here is my recollection of that great match, also emphasizing the happy innocence of youth.
It was a warm Saturday afternoon in the summer of ‘96. The birds were singing, the fans were cheering, it promised to be an exciting match. As we went through the turnstile and my dad paid the abominable fee for football matches, my stomach was fluttering, because I had not as yet been to a proper, official football match.
We took our seats, my two elder brothers, my dad and I, in the Lyndhurst stand, the seating area for the home fans. The whistle blew and the match suddenly started. As my brothers and my dad (and a group of friends) all supported Plymouth Argyle, I thought that it would be a laugh if I rooted for Brighton - both teams were in division two at the time. Twenty minutes into the game, delving into the big bag of sweets my mum had given me just for the occasion, I asked my eldest brother why everyone was cheering(I wasn’t old enough to perceive that only the other side of the stadium was cheering). He told me that Brighton had scored their first goal. Fifteen minutes later I asked him why everyone was shouting (once again I didn’t notice that it was only our side that were shouting) and he told me that an Argyle striker called Mickey (no. 12, I think) had made a brilliant shot at goal, but had missed. Quite pleased that he had missed and also that I had chosen the
leading team, I dived in for another lump of fudge.
At half-time the score was 1-0 to the visitors, and the whole group of friends that my dad had brought along were seriously depressed. I, however, was fairly happy that Argyle were losing
and trying desperately to exercise self-control, I didn’t eat another sweet till the second half started, and what a second half it was.
Two more flying goals in the first twenty-five minutes, from the Brighton fella with the long hair, totally and utterly demolished Argyle’s chance of getting back into the match. The loud chant of: “Peter Shilton’s green and white army, AAOAOAAOH”, came from the devoted Argyle fans in our stand. Number 12, Mickey, made a few more good runs, but to no avail. It was extremely funny to watch these big grown men (my dad’s friends) shouting at the goalkeeper for saving Mickey’s shots, and shouting at Mickey for not scoring, and shouting at the long haired Brighton player for scoring, while I, perfectly contented with the match, sat there quietly enjoying every minute. At the end of the match, I told the whole of our troop what a good game I thought it was, and how I enjoyed watching the teams play so well. They all thought I was joking, or taking the Mickey. But at the end of the day, I must have been the only one in the Lyndhurst stand who was satisfied with the result. So from that day on, when anyone asks me what was the first football match I went to see, I tell them that it was Brighton Vs Plymouth Argyle, and that my team won 3 - 0.
Does anyone else have any happy memories of their very first football match?
It was a warm Saturday afternoon in the summer of ‘96. The birds were singing, the fans were cheering, it promised to be an exciting match. As we went through the turnstile and my dad paid the abominable fee for football matches, my stomach was fluttering, because I had not as yet been to a proper, official football match.
We took our seats, my two elder brothers, my dad and I, in the Lyndhurst stand, the seating area for the home fans. The whistle blew and the match suddenly started. As my brothers and my dad (and a group of friends) all supported Plymouth Argyle, I thought that it would be a laugh if I rooted for Brighton - both teams were in division two at the time. Twenty minutes into the game, delving into the big bag of sweets my mum had given me just for the occasion, I asked my eldest brother why everyone was cheering(I wasn’t old enough to perceive that only the other side of the stadium was cheering). He told me that Brighton had scored their first goal. Fifteen minutes later I asked him why everyone was shouting (once again I didn’t notice that it was only our side that were shouting) and he told me that an Argyle striker called Mickey (no. 12, I think) had made a brilliant shot at goal, but had missed. Quite pleased that he had missed and also that I had chosen the
leading team, I dived in for another lump of fudge.
At half-time the score was 1-0 to the visitors, and the whole group of friends that my dad had brought along were seriously depressed. I, however, was fairly happy that Argyle were losing
and trying desperately to exercise self-control, I didn’t eat another sweet till the second half started, and what a second half it was.
Two more flying goals in the first twenty-five minutes, from the Brighton fella with the long hair, totally and utterly demolished Argyle’s chance of getting back into the match. The loud chant of: “Peter Shilton’s green and white army, AAOAOAAOH”, came from the devoted Argyle fans in our stand. Number 12, Mickey, made a few more good runs, but to no avail. It was extremely funny to watch these big grown men (my dad’s friends) shouting at the goalkeeper for saving Mickey’s shots, and shouting at Mickey for not scoring, and shouting at the long haired Brighton player for scoring, while I, perfectly contented with the match, sat there quietly enjoying every minute. At the end of the match, I told the whole of our troop what a good game I thought it was, and how I enjoyed watching the teams play so well. They all thought I was joking, or taking the Mickey. But at the end of the day, I must have been the only one in the Lyndhurst stand who was satisfied with the result. So from that day on, when anyone asks me what was the first football match I went to see, I tell them that it was Brighton Vs Plymouth Argyle, and that my team won 3 - 0.
Does anyone else have any happy memories of their very first football match?
The GingerLord wrote:
> My first match was back in around 1990. It was the Matt Busby
> testimonial, at Old Trafford,
Heh, I was there too! and yeh it was Quinn that scored for ireland, Giggy's was wonderful that night, he was only young but some of the stuff he was doing that night was unbelievable, I was only 10 years old...after the game me and my dad bumped into Emlyn Hughes who had turned up at the game and I got his Autograph :)
> My first match was back in around 1990. It was the Matt Busby
> testimonial, at Old Trafford,
Heh, I was there too! and yeh it was Quinn that scored for ireland, Giggy's was wonderful that night, he was only young but some of the stuff he was doing that night was unbelievable, I was only 10 years old...after the game me and my dad bumped into Emlyn Hughes who had turned up at the game and I got his Autograph :)
oooo *casts mind back*
i was er 7 i believe and in 1994, went to see arsenal vs villa (my team)
ended in a boring 0-0, typical of Arsenal in those times. i have "boring boring Arsenal* still ringing on my ears.
shame really i live so far away from villa park i can only see the away games in london.
i was er 7 i believe and in 1994, went to see arsenal vs villa (my team)
ended in a boring 0-0, typical of Arsenal in those times. i have "boring boring Arsenal* still ringing on my ears.
shame really i live so far away from villa park i can only see the away games in london.
My first match was in '89 - My dad took me to Wembley to watch England v Poland in a world cup qualifier!
The stadium was packed, the atmosphere was amazing and we won 3-0 with goals from John Barnes, Neil Webb and my hero at the time Gary Lineker.
The stadium was packed, the atmosphere was amazing and we won 3-0 with goals from John Barnes, Neil Webb and my hero at the time Gary Lineker.
My first match was back in around 1990. It was the Matt Busby testimonial, at Old Trafford, Man U vs. Republic of Ireland. I was about 7. It finished 1-1, I think McClair got our goal, can't remember who scored for Ireland, might have been Quinn.
All I do know is that I was really upset before the game. My fav. player at the time was Lee Sharp, but he wasn't playing. They had some unknown kid playing called Ryan Giggs. Me and dad hadn't heard of him....and then he skinned the right-back about 9 times in the first half.
Brilliant!
All I do know is that I was really upset before the game. My fav. player at the time was Lee Sharp, but he wasn't playing. They had some unknown kid playing called Ryan Giggs. Me and dad hadn't heard of him....and then he skinned the right-back about 9 times in the first half.
Brilliant!
I saw tranmere Rovers beat QPR at Loftus Road last season with the winning goal coming in the 90th minute.
And of course that wasn't what you meant at all. I really should have read properly!
First match I saw was Arsenal vs. Ipswich in the late 70's. My dad took me.
Fans were mixed, and there was this really annoying bloke two rows behind us who yelled ot "come on Ipswich" every couple of minutes.
It was probably nh's dad! :-)
Can't remember the score, though.
First match I saw was Arsenal vs. Ipswich in the late 70's. My dad took me.
Fans were mixed, and there was this really annoying bloke two rows behind us who yelled ot "come on Ipswich" every couple of minutes.
It was probably nh's dad! :-)
Can't remember the score, though.
I can, yes.
Can't remember the year, but it would have been early-to-mid 80's.
I'd kicked a ball before, but this was the first proper 'match' as such, and it was at school.
I would have been between 9 and 13. Shorts and T-shirt, playing right-back on Hackney Marshes. January or February I think it was. Full-size pitch, temperatures approacing zero, with a freezing fog so thick you couldn't even see the other teams goal.
I did not enjoy it, and have never enjoyed playing football since. Kick-arounds are okay - matches, no. I played in goal after that - got pretty good at it too, but never really enjoyed it.
Last time I played was about 3 years ago, and I got whacked in the throat by the ball and couldn't breath properly for about 30 minutes. So I stopped playing!
Can't remember the year, but it would have been early-to-mid 80's.
I'd kicked a ball before, but this was the first proper 'match' as such, and it was at school.
I would have been between 9 and 13. Shorts and T-shirt, playing right-back on Hackney Marshes. January or February I think it was. Full-size pitch, temperatures approacing zero, with a freezing fog so thick you couldn't even see the other teams goal.
I did not enjoy it, and have never enjoyed playing football since. Kick-arounds are okay - matches, no. I played in goal after that - got pretty good at it too, but never really enjoyed it.
Last time I played was about 3 years ago, and I got whacked in the throat by the ball and couldn't breath properly for about 30 minutes. So I stopped playing!
My first football match was only 3 years ago!
I had free tickets to go and see Bristol Rovers play once but I binned them.
Anyway, just over 3 years ago I went to Ashton Gate to watch a match between the 2 U-21 sides of Bristol City and Man United - my 2 teams.
I believe it finnished 3-2 - to City aswell!
But thanks to some incredible slow and poor service when I was trying to get some food, I missed the last 2 goals - with the last being a 30-yarder apparently!
But the other goals were good and so was the match.
It doesn't matter which teams you watch really, there's just no experience quite like live football!
I would go and watch City play again but I work on Saturdays and can't be bothered in the evenings during the week.
And i'd jump at the chance to go to Old Trafford! :D
I had free tickets to go and see Bristol Rovers play once but I binned them.
Anyway, just over 3 years ago I went to Ashton Gate to watch a match between the 2 U-21 sides of Bristol City and Man United - my 2 teams.
I believe it finnished 3-2 - to City aswell!
But thanks to some incredible slow and poor service when I was trying to get some food, I missed the last 2 goals - with the last being a 30-yarder apparently!
But the other goals were good and so was the match.
It doesn't matter which teams you watch really, there's just no experience quite like live football!
I would go and watch City play again but I work on Saturdays and can't be bothered in the evenings during the week.
And i'd jump at the chance to go to Old Trafford! :D
I expect everyone remembers the very first football match that they ever went to, it's such a big event that it remains forever indelibly imprinted onto your mind. The first match I ever saw was between third division teams Plymouth Argyle and Brighton. Here is my recollection of that great match, also emphasizing the happy innocence of youth.
It was a warm Saturday afternoon in the summer of ‘96. The birds were singing, the fans were cheering, it promised to be an exciting match. As we went through the turnstile and my dad paid the abominable fee for football matches, my stomach was fluttering, because I had not as yet been to a proper, official football match.
We took our seats, my two elder brothers, my dad and I, in the Lyndhurst stand, the seating area for the home fans. The whistle blew and the match suddenly started. As my brothers and my dad (and a group of friends) all supported Plymouth Argyle, I thought that it would be a laugh if I rooted for Brighton - both teams were in division two at the time. Twenty minutes into the game, delving into the big bag of sweets my mum had given me just for the occasion, I asked my eldest brother why everyone was cheering(I wasn’t old enough to perceive that only the other side of the stadium was cheering). He told me that Brighton had scored their first goal. Fifteen minutes later I asked him why everyone was shouting (once again I didn’t notice that it was only our side that were shouting) and he told me that an Argyle striker called Mickey (no. 12, I think) had made a brilliant shot at goal, but had missed. Quite pleased that he had missed and also that I had chosen the
leading team, I dived in for another lump of fudge.
At half-time the score was 1-0 to the visitors, and the whole group of friends that my dad had brought along were seriously depressed. I, however, was fairly happy that Argyle were losing
and trying desperately to exercise self-control, I didn’t eat another sweet till the second half started, and what a second half it was.
Two more flying goals in the first twenty-five minutes, from the Brighton fella with the long hair, totally and utterly demolished Argyle’s chance of getting back into the match. The loud chant of: “Peter Shilton’s green and white army, AAOAOAAOH”, came from the devoted Argyle fans in our stand. Number 12, Mickey, made a few more good runs, but to no avail. It was extremely funny to watch these big grown men (my dad’s friends) shouting at the goalkeeper for saving Mickey’s shots, and shouting at Mickey for not scoring, and shouting at the long haired Brighton player for scoring, while I, perfectly contented with the match, sat there quietly enjoying every minute. At the end of the match, I told the whole of our troop what a good game I thought it was, and how I enjoyed watching the teams play so well. They all thought I was joking, or taking the Mickey. But at the end of the day, I must have been the only one in the Lyndhurst stand who was satisfied with the result. So from that day on, when anyone asks me what was the first football match I went to see, I tell them that it was Brighton Vs Plymouth Argyle, and that my team won 3 - 0.
Does anyone else have any happy memories of their very first football match?
It was a warm Saturday afternoon in the summer of ‘96. The birds were singing, the fans were cheering, it promised to be an exciting match. As we went through the turnstile and my dad paid the abominable fee for football matches, my stomach was fluttering, because I had not as yet been to a proper, official football match.
We took our seats, my two elder brothers, my dad and I, in the Lyndhurst stand, the seating area for the home fans. The whistle blew and the match suddenly started. As my brothers and my dad (and a group of friends) all supported Plymouth Argyle, I thought that it would be a laugh if I rooted for Brighton - both teams were in division two at the time. Twenty minutes into the game, delving into the big bag of sweets my mum had given me just for the occasion, I asked my eldest brother why everyone was cheering(I wasn’t old enough to perceive that only the other side of the stadium was cheering). He told me that Brighton had scored their first goal. Fifteen minutes later I asked him why everyone was shouting (once again I didn’t notice that it was only our side that were shouting) and he told me that an Argyle striker called Mickey (no. 12, I think) had made a brilliant shot at goal, but had missed. Quite pleased that he had missed and also that I had chosen the
leading team, I dived in for another lump of fudge.
At half-time the score was 1-0 to the visitors, and the whole group of friends that my dad had brought along were seriously depressed. I, however, was fairly happy that Argyle were losing
and trying desperately to exercise self-control, I didn’t eat another sweet till the second half started, and what a second half it was.
Two more flying goals in the first twenty-five minutes, from the Brighton fella with the long hair, totally and utterly demolished Argyle’s chance of getting back into the match. The loud chant of: “Peter Shilton’s green and white army, AAOAOAAOH”, came from the devoted Argyle fans in our stand. Number 12, Mickey, made a few more good runs, but to no avail. It was extremely funny to watch these big grown men (my dad’s friends) shouting at the goalkeeper for saving Mickey’s shots, and shouting at Mickey for not scoring, and shouting at the long haired Brighton player for scoring, while I, perfectly contented with the match, sat there quietly enjoying every minute. At the end of the match, I told the whole of our troop what a good game I thought it was, and how I enjoyed watching the teams play so well. They all thought I was joking, or taking the Mickey. But at the end of the day, I must have been the only one in the Lyndhurst stand who was satisfied with the result. So from that day on, when anyone asks me what was the first football match I went to see, I tell them that it was Brighton Vs Plymouth Argyle, and that my team won 3 - 0.
Does anyone else have any happy memories of their very first football match?