If I was a fan of any team as a lad growing up, it was Man. Utd. simply because I was born there, as was my Mum, but Dad and little brother were both from Southampton so there was a healthy rivalry there.
Then, one day I was in a transport cafe at Spondon, Derby, and the place erupted because a man called Clough had taken them to the Div. 1 trophy. I didn’t switch to Derby but I did show an interest in the man and when much later he came to Forest and European Cup Glory, twice, I followed them everywhere, not physically of course, I’m not that daft. 
I have only watched 2 football matches in my life. With my mate and his Dad to watch Notts. County beat Bury in Nottingham when the crowd handed us both overhead down to watch from the touchline the impeccable Tommy Lawton. No big money in those days, he later became a pub landlord to keep food on the table.
The 2nd was an international. I was in the Merchant Navy, 1965 I think. We had a long stay in port for an overhaul and Taffy (guess where he was from), Jock (likewise) and me went to see Wales play Greece in Athens. For some reason again we were on the touchline. Long before fencing was used in England to keep fans back, Greece had already taken the step and maybe it was a safety measure on the part of the management because they were screaming hate at us through the mesh.
We’d had a couple of drinks and midway throught the 1st half Taffy got fed up with the the Greek players kicking the Welsh ones and staged a one man pitch invasion. Obviously, Jock and I ran on to drag him back but all 3 of us were grabbed by stewards and hustled right out of the stadium onto the street.
Wondering what to do, we saw an unguarded entrance and wandered down it . Imagine our surprise when we emerged into the away players’ dressing room and were welcomed there by the players. Only one of significance remains in my memory, the goaly, Gary Sprake, then part of the strong Leeds United team. An important sports journalist was there too, Wheeler I think his name was. Refreshments over we simply trotted down the tunnel when they went back out and ended up on the touchline again. Nobody said anything. Even the Greek fans were stunned into silence.
‘Fortunately’, Wales lost 1 nil so we were able to join the throng back down their version or Wembley Way with the Greeks treating us as old friends. We did have a victory of sorts later in the stay. The Greek workers on the ship in dry dock somehow did not realise what the flush lever was on our toilets and as a result we refused to take the ship to sea. The captain reminded us that mutiny was still a capital offence and he would be pernitted to hang us all from the yardarm. He was wrong, it only applies to ships at sea so instead the British Ambassorder was called to the scene and his shock and disgust bought as all another couple of days in port while the Greeks were called back to clear up the ■■■■. Literally.
After so much excitement, can you understand why I thought football unbelievably tame and not worthy of notice to this very day?
…I would have felt different.
. We all just got on great, having a laugh whilst drinking beer, in among a lot of ‘’‘club banter’'.
