ComeOnYouUll wrote:
Speaking of TV coverage or lack of
In 1968, I was a 15 year old travelling down to “that there Lundun”
with Sir Christopher Wren schoolmates for the final. Everything went according to plan until the walk down Wembley way, I’d just bought an extra large hotdog when the heavens opened. I seem to remember it lasted about 5 minutes but memory distorts, all that was left of my jumbo hotdog was the sausage
We got to our seats absolutely drenched, the only time I’ve seen rain like that in this country, we were all just sat in puddles and didn’t dry out in the Stadium, squelching around in my suede Hush Puppies
Not knowing how the drama would unfold in what was quite a tense game, we were held back after the game and watched Don Fox come out and place a ball on the same divot he’d missed from and without any boots, kicked it and put it between the posts
After all the drama, the school trip carried onto the West End to watch the Black and White Minstrels
We arrived back in Hull in the early hours of Sunday morning and as I was passing Whoolies, on Hessle Road, a copper stopped me, asked what I was doing out so early and after I explained, he “escorted” me home, down Somerset Street.
Happy Days.
