Memories, Emotions and tales that should be told

redblood

Well-known member
What better time than now to relive some of our better times and memories of our beloved Boro and how we fell in love with them.?

Recently, I posted on our other Forum some of mine and had some lovely heartfelt responses which had brought back memories for some
and tears for others.
Erimus 74 had said how he enjoyed my story and how much he would like to hear others stories, and I so very much agree.

Make us laugh, make us cry, share your highs and lows and help bring us all together.
There must be thousands of stories that must be told and I for one, can't wait to hear them.

For those that might be interested in some of my memories and emotions you will find them on a thread by Nosmo-King
Titled, Would Gibbo allow Bulkhaul to be run like the Boro.

Look very much forward to your replies.
Take care all
Love fro Oz
UTB
 
How sad, not one person interested in regaling their story.
Very disappointing, would've loved to hear some.

Stay safe all
Love from Oz
UTB
 
Wrote this yesterday and hadn't realised it didn't post, bit rambling but my thoyghts for what they are worth.


So many highs & lows.
First game was taken by my dad (RIP) and Grandad (RIP) into the boys end to watch them play Sheff United. 3-0 to us, with a very young Tony McAndrew scoring a hat trick. After that I pestered them to take me to every game, but with dad working shifts at British Steel it wasn't always easy. Soon I was 'old enough' to go on the bus from Brotton (then Skelton) with a few others, started off going in the boys end and graduated to the Holgate. I remeber running round the streets with a 'Super Boro chop down Forest' (thought that one up myself) the morning we played them. Think that was the day that Woodcock scored a hatrick.
Then we emigrated to South Africa after the Strike of 80, and I could be found every Saturday listening to a very crackly, barely audible, football results broadcast for the scores. Internet wasn't even a twinkle in peoples eyes then.
Back home in 83 and I followed the team again, this time home and away as much as I could (funds allowing). Me and my girlfriend, now wife, would drive all over in my Morris Marina following them from 87 to 89, or if it was further afield jumping on the coaches (one trip to Ipswich around Christmas stands out in the memory there, we got thumped 4-0 and took ages to get back). The games v Wigan to go up and the 2 play off semi's & Chelsea game were standouts here.
I moved away in 89 but got to follow them around the country still, couldn't get to as many home games as I would have liked, driving to Brighton to see a Bernie Hattrick then driving all the way home in my Triumph spitfire was not for the fainhearted!!
Football took a back seat when the family came along, but 97 was certainly a watershed year for me following the Boro. It promised so much and was a real roller coaster. The weekend was ruined, and I was a miserable sod, if we got beat. At the end of that season I vowed then to never let football affect me like that again. Enjoy it, follow them but never let it get to you as bad as that.
The times after that have certainly seen some great games, great nights and very proud times, culminating in the Cup Finals and then European final. Although we lost, how proud were we all of the small town in Europe.
Now I'm in NZ I still follow them as best I can, get to games when I am back and watch the highlights when I can. I've a wee fixtures chart by my desk, and fill in the scores and our place in the table against the fixtures. Currently makes sad reading.
One memory I will always take away with me is night matches at Ayresome. Just seeing the pitch under those lights as you walked up the steps to the Holgate end, the smells, sounds and sights of a night match; don't think you will ever get that back.
 
Wrote this yesterday and hadn't realised it didn't post, bit rambling but my thoyghts for what they are worth.


So many highs & lows.
First game was taken by my dad (RIP) and Grandad (RIP) into the boys end to watch them play Sheff United. 3-0 to us, with a very young Tony McAndrew scoring a hat trick. After that I pestered them to take me to every game, but with dad working shifts at British Steel it wasn't always easy. Soon I was 'old enough' to go on the bus from Brotton (then Skelton) with a few others, started off going in the boys end and graduated to the Holgate. I remeber running round the streets with a 'Super Boro chop down Forest' (thought that one up myself) the morning we played them. Think that was the day that Woodcock scored a hatrick.
Then we emigrated to South Africa after the Strike of 80, and I could be found every Saturday listening to a very crackly, barely audible, football results broadcast for the scores. Internet wasn't even a twinkle in peoples eyes then.
Back home in 83 and I followed the team again, this time home and away as much as I could (funds allowing). Me and my girlfriend, now wife, would drive all over in my Morris Marina following them from 87 to 89, or if it was further afield jumping on the coaches (one trip to Ipswich around Christmas stands out in the memory there, we got thumped 4-0 and took ages to get back). The games v Wigan to go up and the 2 play off semi's & Chelsea game were standouts here.
I moved away in 89 but got to follow them around the country still, couldn't get to as many home games as I would have liked, driving to Brighton to see a Bernie Hattrick then driving all the way home in my Triumph spitfire was not for the fainhearted!!
Football took a back seat when the family came along, but 97 was certainly a watershed year for me following the Boro. It promised so much and was a real roller coaster. The weekend was ruined, and I was a miserable sod, if we got beat. At the end of that season I vowed then to never let football affect me like that again. Enjoy it, follow them but never let it get to you as bad as that.
The times after that have certainly seen some great games, great nights and very proud times, culminating in the Cup Finals and then European final. Although we lost, how proud were we all of the small town in Europe.
Now I'm in NZ I still follow them as best I can, get to games when I am back and watch the highlights when I can. I've a wee fixtures chart by my desk, and fill in the scores and our place in the table against the fixtures. Currently makes sad reading.
One memory I will always take away with me is night matches at Ayresome. Just seeing the pitch under those lights as you walked up the steps to the Holgate end, the smells, sounds and sights of a night match; don't think you will ever get that back.
Wrote this yesterday and hadn't realised it didn't post, bit rambling but my thoyghts for what they are worth.


So many highs & lows.
First game was taken by my dad (RIP) and Grandad (RIP) into the boys end to watch them play Sheff United. 3-0 to us, with a very young Tony McAndrew scoring a hat trick. After that I pestered them to take me to every game, but with dad working shifts at British Steel it wasn't always easy. Soon I was 'old enough' to go on the bus from Brotton (then Skelton) with a few others, started off going in the boys end and graduated to the Holgate. I remeber running round the streets with a 'Super Boro chop down Forest' (thought that one up myself) the morning we played them. Think that was the day that Woodcock scored a hatrick.
Then we emigrated to South Africa after the Strike of 80, and I could be found every Saturday listening to a very crackly, barely audible, football results broadcast for the scores. Internet wasn't even a twinkle in peoples eyes then.
Back home in 83 and I followed the team again, this time home and away as much as I could (funds allowing). Me and my girlfriend, now wife, would drive all over in my Morris Marina following them from 87 to 89, or if it was further afield jumping on the coaches (one trip to Ipswich around Christmas stands out in the memory there, we got thumped 4-0 and took ages to get back). The games v Wigan to go up and the 2 play off semi's & Chelsea game were standouts here.
I moved away in 89 but got to follow them around the country still, couldn't get to as many home games as I would have liked, driving to Brighton to see a Bernie Hattrick then driving all the way home in my Triumph spitfire was not for the fainhearted!!
Football took a back seat when the family came along, but 97 was certainly a watershed year for me following the Boro. It promised so much and was a real roller coaster. The weekend was ruined, and I was a miserable sod, if we got beat. At the end of that season I vowed then to never let football affect me like that again. Enjoy it, follow them but never let it get to you as bad as that.
The times after that have certainly seen some great games, great nights and very proud times, culminating in the Cup Finals and then European final. Although we lost, how proud were we all of the small town in Europe.
Now I'm in NZ I still follow them as best I can, get to games when I am back and watch the highlights when I can. I've a wee fixtures chart by my desk, and fill in the scores and our place in the table against the fixtures. Currently makes sad reading.
One memory I will always take away with me is night matches at Ayresome. Just seeing the pitch under those lights as you walked up the steps to the Holgate end, the smells, sounds and sights of a night match; don't think you will ever get that back.
Wrote this yesterday and hadn't realised it didn't post, bit rambling but my thoyghts for what they are worth.


So many highs & lows.
First game was taken by my dad (RIP) and Grandad (RIP) into the boys end to watch them play Sheff United. 3-0 to us, with a very young Tony McAndrew scoring a hat trick. After that I pestered them to take me to every game, but with dad working shifts at British Steel it wasn't always easy. Soon I was 'old enough' to go on the bus from Brotton (then Skelton) with a few others, started off going in the boys end and graduated to the Holgate. I remeber running round the streets with a 'Super Boro chop down Forest' (thought that one up myself) the morning we played them. Think that was the day that Woodcock scored a hatrick.
Then we emigrated to South Africa after the Strike of 80, and I could be found every Saturday listening to a very crackly, barely audible, football results broadcast for the scores. Internet wasn't even a twinkle in peoples eyes then.
Back home in 83 and I followed the team again, this time home and away as much as I could (funds allowing). Me and my girlfriend, now wife, would drive all over in my Morris Marina following them from 87 to 89, or if it was further afield jumping on the coaches (one trip to Ipswich around Christmas stands out in the memory there, we got thumped 4-0 and took ages to get back). The games v Wigan to go up and the 2 play off semi's & Chelsea game were standouts here.
I moved away in 89 but got to follow them around the country still, couldn't get to as many home games as I would have liked, driving to Brighton to see a Bernie Hattrick then driving all the way home in my Triumph spitfire was not for the fainhearted!!
Football took a back seat when the family came along, but 97 was certainly a watershed year for me following the Boro. It promised so much and was a real roller coaster. The weekend was ruined, and I was a miserable sod, if we got beat. At the end of that season I vowed then to never let football affect me like that again. Enjoy it, follow them but never let it get to you as bad as that.
The times after that have certainly seen some great games, great nights and very proud times, culminating in the Cup Finals and then European final. Although we lost, how proud were we all of the small town in Europe.
Now I'm in NZ I still follow them as best I can, get to games when I am back and watch the highlights when I can. I've a wee fixtures chart by my desk, and fill in the scores and our place in the table against the fixtures. Currently makes sad reading.
One memory I will always take away with me is night matches at Ayresome. Just seeing the pitch under those lights as you walked up the steps to the Holgate end, the smells, sounds and sights of a night match; don't think you will ever get that back.

Terrific story,
similar to mine, but I wrote far too much to rewrite it all again here.
Like I said in my first post, they can be found on the old board , if interested.
Where abouts in NZ are you. Love the place and was over there just before xmas for two weeks doing the south island.

Stay safe.
Love from Oz
UTB
 
Terrific story,
similar to mine, but I wrote far too much to rewrite it all again here.
Like I said in my first post, they can be found on the old board , if interested.
Where abouts in NZ are you. Love the place and was over there just before xmas for two weeks doing the south island.

Stay safe.
Love from Oz
UTB
Have a lovely wee 'lifestyle' house near Motueka on the South Island, just at the edge of the Abel Tasman national park. Been here 13 years now, love it and wouldn't go back, although miss family & friends.
Kids all done Uni here, all live in Welly but looking to go and work overseas once all this has blown over.
Hope things are going well with you, are in Victoria or things going better?
 
Terrific story,
similar to mine, but I wrote far too much to rewrite it all again here.
Like I said in my first post, they can be found on the old board , if interested.
Where abouts in NZ are you. Love the place and was over there just before xmas for two weeks doing the south island.

Stay safe.
Love from Oz
UTB

Just copy and paste from old board. Takes seconds
 
OK mate will give it a try but will have to be a bit later as going out soon.
We're in Queensland on the Gold Coast left Sydney almost twenty years ago.
Love it here, great climate but so sad to see many businesses here in Surfers closed.

We got a boat from Wellington to Picton and then by train to Christchurch then on to Dunedin.
Fabulous scenery, made me feel so homesick for England as was so similar with those rolling hills
and numerous sheep.
Really look forward to another trip.

Thanks so much for your reply and hope it urges others to tell their story as well.
Stay safe
Love from Oz
UTB
 
Wrote this yesterday and hadn't realised it didn't post, bit rambling but my thoyghts for what they are worth.


So many highs & lows.
First game was taken by my dad (RIP) and Grandad (RIP) into the boys end to watch them play Sheff United. 3-0 to us, with a very young Tony McAndrew scoring a hat trick. After that I pestered them to take me to every game, but with dad working shifts at British Steel it wasn't always easy. Soon I was 'old enough' to go on the bus from Brotton (then Skelton) with a few others, started off going in the boys end and graduated to the Holgate. I remeber running round the streets with a 'Super Boro chop down Forest' (thought that one up myself) the morning we played them. Think that was the day that Woodcock scored a hatrick.
Then we emigrated to South Africa after the Strike of 80, and I could be found every Saturday listening to a very crackly, barely audible, football results broadcast for the scores. Internet wasn't even a twinkle in peoples eyes then.
Back home in 83 and I followed the team again, this time home and away as much as I could (funds allowing). Me and my girlfriend, now wife, would drive all over in my Morris Marina following them from 87 to 89, or if it was further afield jumping on the coaches (one trip to Ipswich around Christmas stands out in the memory there, we got thumped 4-0 and took ages to get back). The games v Wigan to go up and the 2 play off semi's & Chelsea game were standouts here.
I moved away in 89 but got to follow them around the country still, couldn't get to as many home games as I would have liked, driving to Brighton to see a Bernie Hattrick then driving all the way home in my Triumph spitfire was not for the fainhearted!!
Football took a back seat when the family came along, but 97 was certainly a watershed year for me following the Boro. It promised so much and was a real roller coaster. The weekend was ruined, and I was a miserable sod, if we got beat. At the end of that season I vowed then to never let football affect me like that again. Enjoy it, follow them but never let it get to you as bad as that.
The times after that have certainly seen some great games, great nights and very proud times, culminating in the Cup Finals and then European final. Although we lost, how proud were we all of the small town in Europe.
Now I'm in NZ I still follow them as best I can, get to games when I am back and watch the highlights when I can. I've a wee fixtures chart by my desk, and fill in the scores and our place in the table against the fixtures. Currently makes sad reading.
One memory I will always take away with me is night matches at Ayresome. Just seeing the pitch under those lights as you walked up the steps to the Holgate end, the smells, sounds and sights of a night match; don't think you will ever get that back.
Enjoyed that cheers 👍
 
NZBoro1

OK mate, you asked me to copy and paste, so here it is. I wasn't going to bother as this isn't about me, it was about hearing stories from others.

I didn't know at the time, but my life would change forever when my dad took me to my first Boro match during the Stan Anderson promotion year.
I remember clearly, being on his shoulders and watching O'Rourke and Hickton bringing the crowd to it's feet through a crowd of what seemed to me at the time, old men wearing Andy caps and a haze of cigarette smoke rising to the sky and up into the floodlights.The sheer noise, jubilation and hugging of anybody that happened to be close by when we scored or the universal chanting of where's your father to the ref when things hadn't gone our way.
I was spellbound, I was addicted, I was in love, I was young.



Reply to Wanderingstar from redblood.

Fond memories indeed.I didn't even know what the implications of "where's your father referee" meant but remember all too well singing it at the top of my voice.

I also well remember dozens of us kids clambering over the pee stained concrete retaining wall in the boys end when some little minx flicked the bobbies hat off whilst he set off in search of it.
Or the curious look on some old geezers face when he was suddenly surrounded by half a dozen kids attempting to hold his hand in the hope of fooling the coppers into thinking that he was your grand-dad.

What I don't remember though is what was the reason for us to be so keen to get into that enclosure when there was so many much taller people in there which only restricted our view.
Was it just so that we could be closer to our heroes and idols or was it just for the sheer thrill that we got for being successful.
No,no, I remember now.It was in order to escape the gut churning smell of the bogs below whose stench constantly swirled around our young heads which we happily paid sixpence for the experience.

My favourite memories though were the times that my Dad would turn up at my school to tell the headmaster that he needed to take me home 'cos my Nan wasn't well.I would ask him what was wrong as we walked along the school corridor.He would say shhh I'll tell you when we get outside. We're going to Blackburn son, c'mon hurry up, we've got to catch the train. I was almost jumping out of my pants with excitement and anticipation.

More often than not though, on the way home, he would say.. well that's it, I've had enough, I'm finished, No more,That's your lot, you can go by yourself from now on etc etc etc.
He was never a man of his word when it came to the Boro and sure enough,
there we'd be, hand in hand jumping on the bus in Redcar the same Saturday heading for Ayresome.

The Boro was our bond it was the glue that kept us so close throughout our lives and told us how much we loved each other without having to say so.

My Dad has long been gone now and I think about him every day and recall all the times that he apologised to me for introducing me to the Boro but more so all the great times we had together.
I miss his hand,I miss his face, I miss his presence.

This is why I am so desperate for change at our club.Every father and son should have the opportunity to build a life long loving relationship that shares the same emotions, and for me and my Dad,the Boro fulfilled that perfectly.

So Gibbo, Let's not play with peoples lives and let's get the stadium bouncing again with fanatical, caring parents with hopefully, future Boro mad kids.
Only you can make it possible.

Stay safe all
UTB
redblood, cracking post & from the heart
approve.gif
thanks for posting that

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Well Nosmo,My father has to take credit and the blame.

My family emigrated to Australia in the early sixties as ten pound pom's and early on it was pretty much a disaster, with very few finding work in Perth. We moved to Sydney and things immediately improved, nonetheless, the decision to return to England had already been made.
During our time in oz, I remember my Dad receiving Boro related snippets from home and how excited he was to open the envelopes and read the match reports.

This is when the grooming of his son began.
He would babble on about his heroes Cloughie and Wilf and promised to take me to the ground that his father had taken him. His Dad was a carpenter and upon our arrival back in Redcar my grandad presented me with an enormous thing the like of which I had never seen and which was probably more suited to the likes of Genghis Khan rather than a ten year old boy. It turned out to be a homemade rattle. I loved it, and now, I couldn't wait to use it. ( If that's the right term lol ) My Nan had knitted a Boro scarf and beanie and was all fitted out for the big day.
God knows what the first match was or the second or third really as i was a bit nonplussed and wondered what all the fuss had been about. The life changing day was yet to come.
That day did come and I was nowhere near prepared for it, I fell, hook,line and sinker at the Oxford match.
I'd never witnessed or experienced anything like that in my short life before.Sitting in my seat watching the crowd grow by the minute, feeling the tension grow and the excitement and anticipation building within the stadium and within me to what felt like bursting point.
The roar of the crowd when the goals went in. To witness the sheer joy on my fathers face when the final whistle sounded.
It was almost too much for me. It made no sense to me, to have tears rolling down our faces whilst feeling so totally euphoric.

Strolling around on the pitch after the game holding my Dads trembling hand on that magnificent field with what seemed like zillions of Boro fans will be a memory that will be with me until the day I join him, alongside the rest of the Ayresome Angels in the sky.

Thanks Dad but now for the blame.

Two more years of following the Boro both home and away and falling deeper and deeper in love with the mighty Boro.
Both he and my mother decided to give Australia another go and here am I, still to this day, far, far away from my beloved Boro.
He never settled though but my mother did and he returned to England alone.
But, like the old saying goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder and so it does.

My wife and I have had many trips back to England over the years and had the great pleasure of taking my Dad to as many games home and away as time allowed, including flying home for two cup finals.
Sadly,we weren't together when our dream came true, when we finally won a trophy. I'm just so happy and relieved that he was around and well when his dream came true.
Accordingly,so did mine.

I started off in the third division following the Boro and if we were to go full circle once again, so be it.

I'm certain in saying that My Dad, your lost loved ones and myself would all raise a glass to that.

Stay safe and well all.

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redblood, I had a lump in my tbroat & a smile on my face after reading that emotional piece

I would sooner sit having a cool beer reading about yours & fellow Boro fans memories of fans who no longer attend, for whatever reason, than read about a disgruntled fan telling us you're no longer a fan because you don't go, for me a fan is a fan & you have shown your love & passion on the club you will forever love

Take care & hopefully it's not to long when you can return for a holiday & catch another Boro game

Thanks for sharing your memories of you & your dad which we all experienced
 
Lovely stories Redblood, sounds like you have travelled a bit too!!

Erimus 74 will be on another planet if we get many more like this, plus we probably need something at the mo to take away the blues
 
Erimus,

Thanks for the kind words and sorry about the lump lol but seeing you enjoyed it I might have another one for you.lol.

Coming from a football mad town to a city that only talked about rugby league, it was difficult to find anyone to talk about what the locals called wogball.
Even worse there was no live matches televised except for the FA cup final.

For me to keep in touch with my beloved Boro and other scores, all I had was the BBC world service radio.I had a huge one piece 3 in 1 radiogram which had the short and medium wave radio.Unfortunately, even with the volume at maximum, I could barely hear a thing, even with kneeling on my hands and knees and my ear pressed against the speaker. I found that if I squat next to a speaker and stretch my arm behind it and into the centrepiece, I could actually touch with my fingertips the aerial, and lo and behold, it increased the volume.Only slightly,probably by only one decibel, but hey, it was better than what I had.
As loyal as a servant, there I was at midnight the dreaded KO time here in oz with my arm stuck up the a**e end of the radio when my wife appears from the bedroom.She said what in hells name are you doing. I'm listening to the match.
What is Middlesbrough on? No it's Chelsea and Burnley. What are you listening to that for then? Because at half time they'll go to a few grounds and get a few half time scores and we might get a mention.But, I will get all the results at full time around 3am.
She didn't have to explain the look that she gave me. I knew full well what she was thinking.Something along the likes of My good god, Iv'e married a XXXXXX.
I gave a look that I felt that left nothing to explain also.Something along the likes of Well get used to it baby, cos there is no chance in hell that I'll be sleeping whilst the Boro boys are playing.
She shook her head in total disbelief and went back to bed.

Win, lose or draw, there was nobody that I could share or was remotely interested in my passion. Not for many a year. Not until the Aussies, the likes of Cahill, Kewell,Bosnich and our very own legends Schwarzer and Viduka came to the fore.

By the time I started to work on the Sydney harbour bridge in 1990, football was becoming more popular not only because of the live games due to sky but it was a much safer game for their kids to be playing.
There were a lot of Europeans working on the bridge, Greeks, Italians and Poles mainly and at the very least, they also loved football and at last I had others to share my passion.

On every girder, crossbeam and panel was the name of a company that my Dad, one grandad and great grandad had worked for.
Not only the familiar name of Dorman Long but also the magical name of Middlesbrough were stamped everywhere you looked. After working there for years and thinking that I had covered every inch of the bridge, I unexpectedly found several pieces with the
word Skinningrove on them.

I took great pleasure bragging to my workmates that that's my hometown that's my football team and they're my roots and that my family have worked for that company in England and one day in the near future they'll get to see firsthand how much they mean to me.

Sydney was to have the Olympic games in 2000 and when the engineer told us that we were soon going to be delivered the Olympic rings and that we would be erecting them.
Nobody in our hierarchy had given any thought whatsoever about how and where it was to be displayed apart from the fact that it will be displayed on the eastern side or told us that they would arrive in a multitude of semi circles.Nor did they tell us that it all had to be done at night as we needed to close a traffic lane.
Interest was losing very quickly by me who was going to be the crane driver and also my rigger workmates as this was going to be an unenviable job due to the lack of planning.

We told him about all the obstacles on the eastern side and asked him if there had been any thought about what we were supposed to hang the rings on and there's also the problem of the expansion joints.
His reply, you're riggers, you'll work it out. AND I dont want the slings to be visible, they need to be hidden behind the structure.

It was a nightmare, not so much for me as a crane driver but for the riggers.
Trying to make slings to the mm exactly,if not, they're not taking weight.
For two months we chopped and changed things and eventually, it was done.
All that was left to do, was get all the miles of cabling up the arch and positioned and the tons and tons of fireworks spread all across the entire length of the road deck and the top arch.

The night that the electricians wanted to test out the lights within the rings, the engineer drove me and my crew to a reservoir in the eastern suburbs to get a great full on view of the bridge.

We were standing there for half an hour or so chain smoking waiting in anticipation for the lights to come on but so far,nothing.
Then one by one, there they were, all the lights on the bridge had been turned of and only the rings alight.It was a beautiful sight after all the hard work.

The boys roared and jumped and yahooed.

And there was me, rigid, tears streaming down my face, nose running,shaking like a leaf, a blubbering mess.
What's up mate?. Look, Look what we've done. Mate what's wrong?

I couldn't get the words out. How could I explain. They were hugging me, wrapping their arms around me. Mate c'mon what is it. Some were starting to laugh now.

They wouldn't understand. They didn't know that I was thinking of my Dad and how proud he and my grandparents would be if they were here. Or that I was feeling the same emotions that I shared with my Dad on that wonderful Ayresome night.

All I could say was its okay, I'm alright.

The engineer said to me. Well, I wasn't expecting that, what was that all about are you alright?

I answered. Believe it or not but it's about a football team, my Dad and my roots.

He looked at me curiously and left it at that.
Stay safe
Regards fro Oz
UTB

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tears running down my face redblood!!! cracking read!!!

Thanks for the reply Dan.

It's difficult to put into words, how and why I was so overwhelmed with emotion.
I guess it was all down to so many years of being so isolated from my beloved Boro and Dad.
Also with the knowledge that the bridge that all Sydneysiders adore so much and so proud of, was designed by a Boro boy which transformed the Sydney skyline.
The entire job from start to end was overseered by Mr Ennis, a Boroboy and all the steel manufactured by Boroboys.
Knowing that three generations of my family, all Boroboys, worked for Dorman Long and possibly my great grandad took some part of it.

Then there's me, another Boroboy who if only for a short time, had transformed the Sydney skyline.

Standing on that reservoir that night when those lights came on, all I could see was Boro.
Boro, Boro, Boro .Everywhere I looked.
All I could see and feel was my Boro, my Dad, my grand and great grandads and my roots and pride.

Something just had to give and so it did.

Take care all, stay safe.
Love from Oz.
UTB

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red blood - stirring stuff, fella , truly from the heart.

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Great memories redblood, nice reading them too

I've been on this forum a few times of late just to read your memories 👍
Lovely stories Redblood, sounds like you have travelled a bit too!!

Erimus 74 will be on another planet if we get many more like this, plus we probably need something at the mo to take away the blues

NZBoro1

Erimus74 as well as a few other posters replies were my inspiration for starting this thread.
In particular, when he said that he would sooner sit down with a cool beer and read stories such as mine.
I feel exactly the same and hope that there will be plenty of others that will too.
So much so, that they decide to regale some of their tales.

Like you say, we probably need something like this at the moment to take away the blues.

I can't think of anything better than a feelgood thread to get us all closer to each other by opening our hearts
and sharing our experiences, emotions, highs or lows and telling their stories.

Stay safe
Love from Oz
UTB
 
January 5th 1972 Man Utd FA Cup replay
3pm on a schoolday! Due to power cuts.

Charlton, best and Law
I was at Sir William Turners school, the day before we were told no-one was allowed to miss school
At morning assembly we were told teachers and prefects would be at the gates at lunchtime and all around school perimeters including the playing fields. I waited until the morning break then walked straight out of the main gate. I was only14!

the feeling of freedom I felt once on the bus, hairs standing up on my neck

Charlton ran the show and we were beat 0-3, but I was delighted to have watched it. Next day back to school with a note from my mam saying I had a doctors appointment 😆
 
Good stuff guys,
I'll write another story about my Dad soon.
It's not so much Boro related but will show how important the bond the Boro was to us and how an ever lasting relationship
can be formed between father and son by sharing the same passion.
That bond came to my aid big time at the age of fifteen when we returned to Oz
I may have to post the tale in two halves as it is quite a lengthy story. I hope it won't bore you and hope that if anything, it motivates
fathers to strengthen their relationship with their sons by way of taking them to the match until they too, fall in love.

Otto, never fear, one day your bond with your son will be rewarded.

Stay safe all
Love from Oz
UTB
 
Just been reading Erimus 74's tale about waiting for Graeme Souness in the rain when he was Blackburn manager.

Couple of memories I have from waiting for players outside the changies at Ayresome was seeing Stuart Boam coming out and everybody pleading 'Youre not going to Newcastle are you Stuart' and him saying no, I'm going nowhere lads. Guess what happened the next week.

Also waiting outside when we played Forest (they won) for the players autographs. Really wanted Brian Cloughs as he was and remains one of my all time favourite players/managers/people. I got a few Forest players as they boarded the bus, and then out came Brian and Peter Taylor. My mates dad (who new some of the Clough family) said be polite and respectful, call him Mr Clough. Still didn't get it but I did get Jimmy Gordons who was a lovely bloke.
 
Reading through some of the stories & my recollections, it doesn't need to be your team winning trophies to have life long memories, it can be something as simple as an autograph, a small chat after a game, a favourite moment during a game, memories that will live forever
 
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