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Post by Deleted on Feb 17, 2020 7:08:10 GMT
I do remember this game. I have to confess I wanted Leeds to win. Not sure why, you can't really control who shows as the team you want to win when you are a nuetral. Maybe because Leeds were sort of underdogs? A sleeping giant? ard? Cool? God knows.
It is a semi final I can remember quite vividly which is pretty rare. Looking forward to the final.
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Post by Monkey Tennis on Feb 20, 2020 20:16:13 GMT
1987 and all that – the weeks before The Final.Back-tracking a bit here, and I make no apologies. Our opponents at Wembley were to be Tottenham Hotspur who had beaten Watford convincingly in the other semi-final, but before I go on and on, take a look at these highlights from that game at Villa Park, and pay particular attention to the crowd; Why, if West Midlands Police and the Aston Villa overlords were again able to successfully split the massive Holte End in two, thereby segregating Spurs and Hornets fans presumably safely and without incident, could the South Yorkshire Police and Hillsborough powers-that-be not have done the same with The Kop for the Cov/Leeds game, and for future semi-finals in Sheffield? Just throwing that one out there, but had they done so, it may have saved some discomfort, and possibly lives. Anyhow. Having just reached the FA Cup Final, Cov fans were understandably keen to support their team for the remainder of the league games, and the match scheduled for the Saturday following the semi-final was to be away at Luton Town. How we would’ve enjoyed a trip to Kenilworth Road with thousands of us pouring down the hill to Bedfordshire to applaud the memory of Eric Morcambe, the soulful voice of Paul Young and his tarty hat, and of course the achievement-so-far of our boys in Sky Blue. We had a bit of a problem with that though. Luton Town, from the start of the 86/87 season, had imposed an “away fan ban” due to shenanigans involving Millwall the previous season. Brother and I applied to Luton Town FC hoping that, given our home address was in Oxfordshire and not Coventry, we might fool the Hatters’ admin staff into sending us LTFC membership cards and match-day tickets to boot, but they saw straight through our little ruse and very politely wrote back to us suggesting we faack right off. This left me with Saturday 18th April 1987 free; what should I do with myself? I was friendly with a lad in those days who in spite of his accent (do not be mistaken, do not be mislead) was not a Scouser, he was from Birkenhead. A Tranmere fan in Banbury then, the rarest of breeds, and of the occasional Friday evening I’d accompany him up to Prenton Park to watch his beloved cash-strapped Rovers invariably lose (Tranmere regularly played their home games on a Friday evening in those days, I think in a mostly vain attempt to attract casual support from the Blues and Reds of Merseyside). So guess where Tranmere were playing on the afternoon of Saturday 18th April 1987? Wherever it was, I’d never been to this particular place before so I went with him. I can’t be completely sure of the name of the pub we went to for a pre-match pint in that strange, strange, isolated city, but it may have been called The Moorfields, or something like that. Tranmere lost that day (and so did Cov as it turned out) - all that way for nothing more than a pint of cider and a footy programme to remind me of my day out. As we know, an FA Cup run creates a back-log of fixtures for any team. There were thus still seven league games left for Cov to play before the Big Day, and after the defeat at Luton, City went on a nice little run. Queens Park Rangers and Liverpool were beaten at Highfield Road and Watford also succumbed at Vicarage Road (good game, that). Cov drew away at Norwich (didn’t go to that one), then in the “final” run-in (see what I did there?) points were picked up away at Leicester, then at home to both Manchester United and Southampton. City’s league season ended with them finishing in 10th position. As the Cov season approached its Wembley climax things started to get a bit daft in the media. Jimmy Greaves, understandably given City’s Cup Final opponents if for no other reason, was a centre of attention and Mr St John, his giggle-box compatriot, suddenly remembered that he had once been a Cov player. There were regular features on Central and Midlands News detailing City’s build-up to final day with reports of a team-building trip to sunnier climes (Bournemouth), but the best bit was the team’s appearance on Blue Peter performing “Go For It”, the Sky Blue’s Cup Final song. This ditty was only kept from reaching the top of the hit parade that week by the Starship classic “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now”, Spurs “Hot Shot Tottenham!” and 75 other songs of inferior quality. If you’ve managed to successfully negotiate the whole of that video clip without losing your minds completely, you’ll have heard Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s Mum make reference to an injured “Brian”. Unfortunately Brian “Bugsy” Borrows had picked up an injury during the last league game of the season against Southampton, and though the extent of the injury was unclear when this edition of Blue Peter was recorded, it was to prove sufficiently serious to warrant an operation on Bugsy’s knee. He’d played in every game that season apart from the December home win against, coincidentally, Spurs, and would now miss out on the FA Cup Final. Cruel.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 23, 2020 11:58:13 GMT
That Hereford programme cover. Under the away team name is their postcode. Odd thing to put.
EDIT: Oh I think I get it. The club were for some reason promoting people to use their postcode. A funny campaign to attach themselves to.
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Post by Monkey Tennis on Feb 23, 2020 17:34:37 GMT
That Hereford programme cover. Under the away team name is their postcode. Odd thing to put. EDIT: Oh I think I get it. The club were for some reason promoting people to use their postcode. A funny campaign to attach themselves to. Yes, I noticed that too and thought it even odder that ES's postcode is printed under "Hereford United". But you're right re the postcode promotion thingy. On the inside cover of the programme is this;
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Post by mikeunderpenyard on Feb 23, 2020 17:50:47 GMT
I think you two need to get out more.
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Post by Monkey Tennis on Feb 23, 2020 18:25:14 GMT
1987 and all that –The Final.
You’ll all be breathing a sigh of relief that at last, we’ve reached 16th May, 1987; FA Cup Final Day; Coventry City v Tottenham Hotspur; here ends this particular odyssey and we can consign this thread to history, or at least until it’s Munsleyed. I’ve enjoyed doing it for what it’s worth – it’s brought back some great memories for me, so thanks for affording me the opportunity to reminisce on here and more importantly, thanks for reading it. The morning of Cup Final Day dawned dull and drizzly in Banbury as we made our way to the station for the train to That London. We normally drove to matches as you’ll have gathered but given the occasion (as it ‘appened) we thought British Rail would be a better option, so off we went expecting the rolling stock to be packed with Cov fans, but this wasn’t the case. There were a few of “us” on that train to Paddington, granted, but not really that many. Most rail-travelling Sky Blues were naturally going directly from Coventry to Euston, so it was just a normal day for almost everyone else in those carriages. In 1987, brother was working for a local company who, come every C-word, raffled off gifts bestowed throughout the year by suppliers to said company. Not sure if this sort of thing still goes on but it was commonplace back in the day – a sort of “thanks for using us and here’s a nice present in the hope that you’ll continue to use us again next year” gesture. Low key bribery, really. Brother somehow and perhaps suspiciously had developed a habit of winning some decent stuff in those raffles, and over the previous couple of years had returned home from his works festive parties with lots of bottles of wine, several bottles of Scotch, a microwave oven and a TV, but sadly no cuddly-toy. At his 1986 works end-of-year-do he’d won a “Romantic Night Away For Two At Any Thistle Hotel – Valid For One Year”. I don’t think he ever intended cashing in on his winnings in quite the way he did. No hot weekend break with a lady for him, rather a twin room with his little brother at the Thistle Hotel just off Whitehall, and it was to there we headed as we stepped from the train at Paddington, the drizzle and overcast conditions of North Oxon having given way to a capital Mr Blue Sky. To be fair, dressed for the match in our Cov regalia and brandishing Sky Blues flags on sticks (I still have mine - the flag that is, not the stick), we hardly looked like the typical customers of a semi-posh hotel just up the road from the seat of Mrs Thatch’s government. It should therefore have come as no surprise as we tried to enter the establishment to check-in and drop off our bags, to hear the huge uniformed chap on the door announce “Sorry lads, residents only in here”, but brother duly produced the necessary boarding passes and we were reluctantly allowed in. As we left the hotel less than two minutes later and now bound for Wembley, that same chap on the door nodded to us approvingly and uttered these words; “Oi, lads. Best of luck today. I’m an Arsenal fan, so just make sure you stuff them Yids….”. The tube journey from Charing Cross up to Wembley was fun, despite us being seemingly the only Cov fans on those trains. They were heaving. Full to bursting with Spurs types as you’d imagine, but there was not a single hint of trouble or aggression. Of course, we were clocked and had to endure some robust but good-natured chants along the way – “Your first and last at Wembley” sticks in my mind, and “You don’t know where you’re going” featured prominently too (and to be fair, they had a point), along with repeated renditions of “Ossie’s Dream” ad nauseam, but it was a genuinely convivial atmosphere on that journey. Lovely stuff. Arriving at Wembley itself was….. well you all know what it’s like. The sight of that place then and now when your team is about to play there; all those like-minded supporters wearing the colours of your club milling about; bumping into and chatting to people you’d only ever normally see at home games; hearing familiar voices/accents amid the thousands of creatures; Does anything else compare to it as a follower of any football club? We entered the ground in plenty of time and in readiness for the pre-match stuff, marching bands and hymn singing and all that. The City team was announced as Oggy, David Phillips (replacing the unfortunate Bugsy at right-back), Greggy (charged with keeping Chris Waddle quiet on his final appearance in a Spurs shirt), Lloydy (charged with keeping Glenn Hoddle quiet on his final appearance in a Spurs shirt), Killer (charged with charging about and scaring people), Peakey (charged with keeping Clive Allen quiet, particularly in the opening minutes of the match – that went well…), Benno, Gynny (replacing David Phillips in midfield who’d replaced Bugsy at right-back), Big Cyrille, Houch and the supremely talented Nicholas Pickering, with Graham Rodger and Sedge on the bench. But before we could enjoy the main event we had another game to watch – a Lord’s Taverners match between Tottenham Frostspurs and The Tarbuck Sky Blues. Here’s a thing though, I’m not going to talk you through the 1987 FA Cup Final itself. It’s all here on the Tube of Ewes should you wish to see it and anyway, having watched it back on VHS, DVD and on-line so many times over the past 30-odd years, I’m now struggling to be sure as to what I really do remember of the game as witnessed on the day, which I suppose is a bit of a shame. My only personal recollection, and naturally unrecorded by the cameras, is of myself, my brother, and all those around us drained and in floods of tears as Mr Mary Mungo and Midgley blew the final whistle at the end of extra-time. They’d probably call our FA Cup run “a journey” these days; back then we just called it Fecking great, which of course is exactly what it was. So I’ll leave you with this bit of film. It doesn’t feature that Houch diving header, it doesn’t feature Benno’s “dancing feet”, it doesn’t feature Peakey and Clive Allen attempting to recreate Torvill and Dean’s Bolero, it doesn’t feature Killer limping gingerly up the Wembley steps to receive the trophy (he’d have been sent off for that challenge on Mabbutt nowadays anyhow), and it doesn’t feature the beaming smiles of George and Snoz as they prance upon the Wembley turf each with one hand holding the FA Cup. Furthermore, it doesn’t feature that Jimmy Greaves song, nor the “Go For It City” monstrosity, (though to be fair, the Cov fans singing it that day did seem to perk up the team when they were losing) and it doesn’t even feature a reference to Gary Mabbutt’s Knee, let alone that of Bugsy Borrows. It does, however, feature a happy fellow with clearly little interest in footy (sorry ‘bout that), and a constipated dog called Charlie. Happy, happy days, they were. Especially for Charlie, by the looks. PUSB.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 23, 2020 18:56:15 GMT
Thistle Hotel Anyone?
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Post by Deleted on Feb 23, 2020 19:03:37 GMT
Cheers Monkey. That was none too shabby.
What is that thing about monkeys, typing and Shakespeare?
Wigan winning the FA Cup was a bit unexpected, but you and Wimbledon won it when it mattered.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 23, 2020 19:17:00 GMT
Just had a look on wiki and here are the on the face of it "lesser teams" winning the FA Cup from 1970-1995...
1973 Sunderland 1976 Southampton 1978 Ipswich (not sure about this one as they were pretty handy) 1980 West Ham 1987 Coventry 1988 Wimbledon
Then it looks like it goes down hill a bit. Everton beating MUFC in 95 maybe.
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Post by eggchaserbull on Feb 24, 2020 12:35:14 GMT
Nice one, Monkey, thoroughly enjoyed the 'journey'. I haven't been this interested in the FA cup for many a year.
I was hoping you would give us the stories as each round of the current cup was being played. I was particularly looking forward to FA cup final day itself; I was going to follow my old routine of giving my Dad's lawn it's first cut of the year* and then asking for my pocket money and if I could now start watching the build up to the game.
It would certainly have surprised the selfish old git, we haven't spoken since last century.
* In the climate we have now, if you waited that long to give your lawn its first cut of the year, you'd have to have John Blashford-Snell help you to get in and out, safely.
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Post by mebull on May 10, 2020 15:07:42 GMT
Monkey, Having read your account of Cov's brilliant FA Cup run and then watching the rerun of it on tv last weekend would you know why some of the Spurs players had sponsors (Holsten) on their shirts and others didn't?
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Post by Deleted on May 10, 2020 15:17:24 GMT
When the Tottenham players lined up for the 1987 FA Cup final, something seemed wrong.
It turned out that SIX of them were missing the club’s main sponsor – Holsten – from their shirt.
It is surely one of football’s biggest fashion faux pas.
Ahead of the Wembley showpiece, Tottenham were supplied with six full sets of the new kit by manufacturer Hummel. Four sets included the main shirt sponsor, Holsten, across the front, but two sets were unbranded because they had been ordered for the youth team to use in an end of season tournament in Germany.
In addition, club secretary Peter Day was informed by The Football Association that, given the huge global television audience the Cup final would attract, the organisation were unsure about advertising issues given this was the first time a team with an alcohol sponsor was appearing in football’s end of season spectacular.
It was decided the youth team could wear the existing kit, and so all six sets of kit were sent to have the match embroidery stitched onto the front. When they were returned to White Hart Lane, the kit sat in Day’s office.
In any case, the FA gave Spurs the green light to keep the beer brand on their shirts.
Johnny Wallis, the kit man, selected two sets of outfield kits, numbered 2-14, from the box in Day’s office, unaware some didn’t have Holsten on them.
At Wembley, Wallis would have laid out the shirts with the number facing up, so players knew which was theirs.
And with an FA Cup final to focus on, Clive Allen, Glenn Hoddle and their team-mates didn’t notice what was on their shirts as they changed for the game.
Allen explains he first noticed the cock up when warming up before kick-off. “I saw there was no sponsor’s name written on Glenn Hoddle’s shirt,” he wrote in There’s only one Clive Allen. “He came towards me and I said to him: ‘What about your Holsten?’ Quick as a flash, he replied: ‘Clive, I’ve got a game to play. I don’t think we should have a drink just now!'”
After the game, which Spurs lost 3-2, the club held an inquiry into how the mistake had been allowed to happen, conscious of the fact Holsten paid them a lot of money to have their name splashed across the front.
The incident actually generated a lot of publicity for the brand and Iriving Scholar, Spurs’ then chairman managed to eventually smooth things over, though not without casualties.
“On the Monday morning I, along with [manager] David Pleat, Peter Day and [Commercial Manager] Mike Rollo met Holsten,” Scolar wrote in his book, Behind Closed Doors. “We feared the worst, but Alan Bridget, Holsten’s chairman, took a very understanding view and made it clear that there was no question of withdrawing the sponsorship.”
However, Day lost his job, while Wallis was relegated to the reserve team with Roy Reyland taking charge of the first team kit.
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Post by Monkey Tennis on May 10, 2020 17:00:25 GMT
Good stuff HECFC - I never knew that.
We are less than a week short of the 32nd anniversary of that FA Cup Final.
Bloody Hell.
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Post by Deleted on May 10, 2020 17:04:15 GMT
Good stuff HECFC - I never knew that. We are less than a week short of the 32nd anniversary of that FA Cup Final. Bloody Hell. You should do an article on it.
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Post by Monkey Tennis on May 10, 2020 17:08:30 GMT
Good stuff HECFC - I never knew that. We are less than a week short of the 32nd anniversary of that FA Cup Final. Bloody Hell. You should do an article on it. I've spent several weeks trying to locate Charlie The Dog with a view to doing an interview about his memories of that day. Can't seem to find the little sh1t.
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Post by Deleted on May 10, 2020 17:39:06 GMT
You should do an article on it. I've spent several weeks trying to locate Charlie The Dog with a view to doing an interview about his memories of that day. Can't seem to find the little sh1t. Isn't it 33 years since the day?
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Post by Monkey Tennis on May 10, 2020 17:45:11 GMT
I've spent several weeks trying to locate Charlie The Dog with a view to doing an interview about his memories of that day. Can't seem to find the little sh1t. Isn't it 33 years since the day? Yes it is. That makes it even worse, knowing that somewhere within the past 3 decades-and-a-bit I've lost my ability to count proper.
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Post by Deleted on May 10, 2020 17:57:21 GMT
Isn't it 33 years since the day? Yes it is. That makes it even worse, knowing that somewhere within the past 3 decades-and-a-bit I've lost my ability to count proper. Moving to the shire has made sure your command of english hasn't slipped despite you torturing your brain with cack cider mind.
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Post by eggchaserbull on May 11, 2020 8:53:14 GMT
You should do an article on it. I've spent several weeks trying to locate Charlie The Dog with a view to doing an interview about his memories of that day. Can't seem to find the little sh1t. It wasn't a little sh1t, was it?
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Post by mikeunderpenyard on Jun 9, 2020 18:40:58 GMT
19/20 season. Champions by default.
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