Are we going on the pitch Dad?

There is something quite unique about mid week football matches that separate them from the usual feeling you get on a Saturday. Perhaps it's the fact that you are either at work or School all day and the sense of reward after a hard day is to go straight down to the match. I was 11 years old when Stoke City played Plymouth Argyle at the Victoria Ground in the Division 2 winning season of 1992/1993.

These were exciting times for any young football fan but this game was extra special as it meant there would be the possibility of going on to the pitch at the end of the game. It was the final home game of the season with Stoke just needing a victory to claim the title so the excitement levels were off the scale. We went to the game early so my dad and his friends could go to the pub for a few drinks and we would go to Lonsdale Street newsagent to buy a bag of cola cubes to maintain our stratospheric sugar levels and head into the ground before the masses.

I was a season ticket holder in the Butler Street stand and loved every minute of it as we were able to perch on the railings that used to separate that particular area with the disabled section of the ground. This vantage point had its own benefits as we were that close to the pitch we could shout at the players whilst they were warming up to come over and chat to us.

As you can imagine we were all awestruck when left back Lee Sandford came over to show us his new boots. I had my season ticket stuffed up my coat sleeve for him to sign and we firmly believed that our pre match team talk far surpassed anything that the manager could say. This was a magical year for many a supporter but for a child it was almost dreamlike, from our executive spot we could watch the whole game and take in the atmosphere. We could see to our left the sea of people in the Boothen End, the lights that hung from the roof illuminating their ecstatic faces and the sheer sense that we would be crowned champions.

All it took was a single goal from Nigel Gleghorn to send a happy 11 year old boy and 20,000 stokies onto the pitch singing the famous Queen song 'We are the Champions'. That is the overriding memory I have of that game, the sense that we could go on to the pitch and stand in the goal mouth, celebrate with my friends and stay up way past our bedtimes because it meant that Stoke City had won the league and let’s be honest, it was our team talk that won us that game but don't tell anyone.