Then we got there, it was packed. Full of Red & White! People were on the monument drinking, drink was being passed around people were dancing in the fountains, and me, me dad and all the lads went on the monument me and Rob sat on the lion singing until about 2 in the morning. When we got back to the hotel I had lost my voice from chanting Super Kevin Phillips all night.
I awoke the next morning to the sound of snoring and woke are Rob up we decided to go down for breakfast Together.
We had a Full English I could hardly walk I was that full from it.
While having that breakfast with are Rob I realised that the fun & games was over it was time for the serious stuff the football.
Monday 25th May 1998
The Playoffs…
Over the weekend I had tried to keep the thoughts of the match out of my head. But as we left the hotel to go to the match it was time to face up to things. As we travelled to Wembley via the tube, my mind was on the game. All those nail biting minutes over the season hanging on to leads, all the fantastic football, all the laughs, the mess ups, and mistakes, along the way. The worrying, nervousness, contentment, exuberance, joy and despair that we felt week in week out over the season all boiled down to 90 minutes of football. Little did we know that we would feel all them emotions again during that match!
Just this one game, win and were promoted!
The stakes were higher than the empire state building.
Charlton were the form team at the time. Ten wins out of their last eleven matches. An impressive two-legged victory over Ipswich in the play off semi- finals and nine clean sheets in the last eleven matches.
So current form was not in are favour.
But what about the omens: Well we were playing at Wembley, the match was on sky, and Sunderland born Clive Mendonca was facing us great.
So the omens weren’t good and so they showed but at the time I was confident.
I thought that on are day we were the best in the league a quality out fit, and after are dismal record at Wembley, sooner or later are day was bound to come. We also had are lucky mascot Mr Nicky Sumerbee two time play off winner or I and Forty odd thousand of the best fans in football.
When I got off the tube I could not believe my eyes were where the Charlton fans.
Apart from the odd pocket singing “Super Cloive!!” in retaliation to are own chants wear were they.
It was like spot the Charlton fan.
The atmosphere was fantastic no hint of trouble.
The Sunderland fans expected nothing but success from their beloved heroes.
But football has a funny way of kicking you in the teeth.
So about half an hour later we entered Wembley. I thought the ground did need an over haul but it’s the memories that make the place ‘66’ ‘73’ ‘96’ Gazza, Charlton, Moore all the names and all the games now that’s history and that’s what makes the place.
When I got in the stadium there were quite a few Charlton fans there, were did they come from, me and are Rob came to the conclusion that they had came from under ground tunnels, directly from South London to
the ground.
So this it was we went through the nessacaries and the teams kicked off.
For the first 45 minutes we toiled around looking nothing like the out fit we new we were. Clive Mendonca then scored the obligatory goal against his child hood heroes. My dad and my uncle complained and moaned and said that this was the usual routine of Sunderland at Wembley.
Optimistic fools Sunderland fans are,
The buzz at half time was that Reidy would sort
them out.
A half time blast of effing and blinding would sort the lads out and spur them on to produce the performance they were capable of.
45 minutes to save the game I thought. I remember we won a corner and my cousin who is usally wrong with his predictions said “we never score off corners”… Niall Quinn diving header 1-1 get in. “Wrong again son” my dad said to Richie, but this time he was glad he was wrong, and so was I.
Still to this day I do not no how he got his lanky frame down that far to head that ball.
The celebrations were long and loud… then suddenly Super Kev through to lob the keeper,
I looked at the linesman no off side 2-1. I thought we were on are way!
Moments later sloppy defending let Clive Mendonca
through to score not to be out done Quinn took the ball on his chest and drove it past the keeper.
At that moment I was proud of the lads.
So it was hang on time or so we thought. I knew the last twenty minutes would seem like a lifetime with nothing to do but wait it out.
Charlton pressed the best they could without effect.
Sunderland’s best chance fell to Dichio victory in are grasp usual Dichio he missed.
The minutes ticked away, my heart was beating. I allowed myself to dream about the premiership but I didn’t back on Perez.
We were almost there until the Flying French Flew for and invisible which en-Abeld Richard Rufus to score.
Five minutes, Five minutes I thought that’s all it was. As the ref blew for full time, we wondered weather golden goal rules applied. Penalties applied if the match was level at the end of extra time. Sumerbee lashed us in front are lucky mascot,
but were is the golden goal when you need it. I was then reduced to a blabbering idiot, as were all fans around me.
Could we hang on? No!
Then it was on to penalties.
Sumerbee went first no worries!! It flew in like a rocket.
Charlton Scored.
Phew 1-1!
Next up was magic, I had full confidence in him it was rewarded.
Charlton Scored.
My hopes took a dive as Niall Quinn came into view, Quinn and penalties I was UN-sure of but the Mighty Quinn proved his critics wrong again.
Charlton Scored.
Next up Makin no worries.
5-5!!
Things were getting silly now.
When was the last time two teams scored all there penalties?
So sudden death it was, and if this continued any further there would be a few cases of that on the terraces as well.
The whole season was no down to one potential kick.
Charlton Scored.
Surprise Surprise!!
Alex Rae, 6-6!
Was Perez trying or what.
Up stepped Micky Gray my heart took a dive, never the best striker off the ball.
Micky looked distinctly uncomfortable as he approached the ball. A shot that Peter Reid would describe as weak as P**S followed. Allowing the keeper to get down to his right to save the ball.
Time stopped for a few seconds.
And then Charlton began celebrating. I felt hollow and empty inside. UN- able to believe what I had been through. I was mentally worn out.
To be so close but come away with nothing.
Micky’s penalty had been so very poor. But no one blamed Gray.
The crowd sprung to life from their shocked silence, and sang Grays name in vain in an attempt to lift his sprits.
We went through the familiar post match ritual of applauding are players off the pitch difference was this time they deserved it.
During the game, I was to involved to enjoy it, too tense to appreciate it and too upset to reflect on it.
But looking back I believe that I was privileged to watch one of the greatest games at Wembley bar some ‘66’ final.
So as time went on we learnt how to appreciate how close we were and how unlucky we were.
My dad taught me a lesson that day he said “Son it’s the hope that keeps us going” and it is.
Whether it’s the hope of signing a new striker, reaching the play offs, winning the cup, a game or even scoring a goal it’s the hope that’s keeps all football fans going and the hope that keeps them coming back.
Hope is the universal requirement for all football fans.
But even until this day I still find it ironic how two lads from opposite sides but who come from the same area and even the same school managed to effectively decided the game.
Daniel King
It’s the hope that keeps us going!!