My first game was the one before THE John O’Rourke Oxford game in 1967, so, like Coluka, I’ve seen a few. At times, being a Boro fan for 55 years has felt more like a punishment than a pleasure, but there’s been some glorious times - Charlton’s incredible team already being CHAMPIONS in March and scoring an average 2.5 goals a game, the Rioch renaissance, the move to the Riverside and all that went with it etc, but I cherish every minute I witnessed of TLF.
it was the only time in my life that people in London (where I was living) were jealous of me being a Smoggie. Despite living away, I saw every home game he played in, including the legendary reserve game against Bradford when 20,000 came out to welcome him home. They had to keep opening new stands to get people in - some missed the entire first half.
Him being in Cardiff for the greatest day of my life was the perfect completion for me - it wouldn’t have been the same without him.
For those unlucky enough or too young to have never seen him, then the simplest description is that he brought joy - unmitigated joy - whenever he played. The ball arriving at his feet was the signal for everyone’s heartbeat to take off and the excitement was unbelievable. For me, every game was way too short - I just wanted to sit and watch him, and the Boro with him, for hours.
He created chaos in opposition players and systems - sprinting and jinking his way past people like they were bollards, often leaving them crashing into each other.
And, as has already been said, he loved us as much as we loved him.
I admire many people, but I have only one sporting hero - Juninho.