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I was upset about Hirsty turning 25....I turned 40 on Boxing Day at the Newcastle game 2 years ago. I'd never actually met him in the flesh and we booked for a load of us to have lunch before at the ground. Mr H was there and kindly presented me with a bottle of port (it was wrapped, he couldnt get to it!) and was funny and humble somehow...He said give us a kiss, so I did. And yes that moment made my christmas. A charming man at 42 who understood that he was loved.....

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I was upset about Hirsty turning 25....I turned 40 on Boxing Day at the Newcastle game 2 years ago. I'd never actually met him in the flesh and we booked for a load of us to have lunch before at the ground. Mr H was there and kindly presented me with a bottle of port (it was wrapped, he couldnt get to it!) and was funny and humble somehow...He said give us a kiss, so I did. And yes that moment made my christmas. A charming man at 42 who understood that he was loved.....

I had the great good fortune to spend a day with Hirsty & Phil King on the Wednesdayite C2C Bike Ride a couple of summers ago. There was no stopping Hirsty with the donations bucket - Leyburn Market Place had never seen the like!

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....Brilliantly written mate...aaaah the memories!!!....having your own 'barrier' on the kop with your mates and losing em all with the mass hysteria and 'surge' when we scored....aaaand of course the 'flying teddies' .... most of all tho' witnessing the genius of the 'boy wonder' Mr David Hirst every week and hearing the wise words of Ron!!!.... so glad I was a regular home and away at this time....All I ever wanted to do from being a young 'un was to see The Owls win a Wembley Cup Final before I died ... lol

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I can’t believe it’s 30 years ago today since Chelsea.

Thanks to those who made our dreams come true when we were young.

 

We were kissed by magic. Thirty years on the candle is flickering in the wind, but it will never go out. 

 

 

 

 

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Loved going to Chelsea in the 80s and 90s, TBH during that time they were one of our main rivals. Train to London few beers and always a good day out, usually interesting!

Stamford Bridge was an dump as usual, the game felt weird as early Sunday fixtures were very rare back then. Bit of a low key start not helped by the ground as atmosphere at the Bridge was always lacking back then unless a big night match.

 

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Got onto the Kop for the Chelsea semi about an hour before kick off and crowd was already building.
Fans were chanting a good 30 mins before kick something I had never seen before.

After the game my ears were ringing it was that loud that night, can only think that the game v Kaiserslautern comes close.

I know younger fas will say the play off game v Brighton was a cracking atmosphere and it was but the Chelsea semi was a lot more raw type of atmosphere.

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3 hours ago, matthefish2002 said:

Got onto the Kop for the Chelsea semi about an hour before kick off and crowd was already building.
Fans were chanting a good 30 mins before kick something I had never seen before.

After the game my ears were ringing it was that loud that night, can only think that the game v Kaiserslautern comes close.

I know younger fas will say the play off game v Brighton was a cracking atmosphere and it was but the Chelsea semi was a lot more raw type of atmosphere.

It was a great atmosphere, think raw is a great description. Standing helped, personally think the Burnley QF had the edge, maybe because I was a kid and felt it more.

 

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Travelled down to London early Sunday morning from Uni at Manchester in a Ford Cortina full of Chelsea fans.

Met Wednesday mates before match...brilliant 2-0 win...even better when I got back to the car until it wouldn't start.

3 hours waiting for it to be partly-fixed whilst watching the other semi-final between Man Utd and Leeds through a TV shop window.

Long drive back to Manchester at 50mph top speed but honestly it could have been 5mph and it wouldn't have mattered.

 

Surprisingly 3 days later the Chelsea fan car owner let me do the same again...even better.

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That Hirst goal came a "long ball" move but done brilliantly.

 

Not just a big hump up field, which is what we see today, but long and accurate passes with a quality lay-off from Williams to Hirst and a superb, controlled finish.

 

Ah..... Happy days indeed!

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On 20/12/2011 at 16:05, goldensmoke said:

It didn't seem to take long to get here from Luton, it was worryingly easy to infiltrate into North London. It was an eerily quiet, cloudy Sunday morning and the sense of foreboding was palpable. We had got to Kilburn tube station ahead of time where we would drop Richard's lucky Fiat Panda off and ask it to wish us good luck once again. Not that we had needed it at Coventry. A date with our old friends was just two tube changes away. We wished each other luck as we headed onto the tube together. Me, a pale 21 year old released from a miserable sales office at Sheffield Newspapers but now with a head spinning full of League Cup dreams and fear in my heart. Richard, my older brother, soul mate and protector and fellow dreamer and Helen, his girlfriend and light of his life since 82, all the way through University to this day. We stood and rocked in silence as the tube drew us closer to Fulham Broadway. No colours today, not if you wanted to live; but of course my yellow Wednesday away shirt was pressed against my skin underneath all the layers. I'd long since got the shakes and we exchanged some nervous conversation, surrounded by arrogant cockneys who gave us disdainful glances as we slowly moved towards the top of the escalator. Be bold and be brave sounded Ron in the Star yesterday, what a master of the big occasion. I wasn't sure if he was talking to the team, or us. 'Cahn Chewsee!!!' one of them spewed as we approached the daylight of the high street. There were hundreds of them everywhere strutting around like the ***** that they were, assuming a thumping win today.

We were out in the fresh air on Fulham Road. The air was mild but the cloud would not give way to any spring brightness but we made our way towards the ground looking for our blue, not their blue. Hear me wherever you may be- we are the famous CFC!!!!.....they were full of themselves. A high street like every other high street in London, we could have been in any borough. This was a personal journey. I badly wanted revenge for that sickeningly late defeat at this cesspit in the 85 quarter final marathon after we had battered each other in the 4-4 game. We started to sense blue and yellow and sure enough we could see our way towards the away end. We were met at the turnstiles by grey corrugated sheet metal but the Wednesdayites were in good spirits, if not a little subdued by the Sunday morning feeling we all shared. Such a big moment, on a weird Sunday morning.

There was some sort of Chelsea radio channel being broadcast on the p.a as we made our way in gradually. Ken Bates was talking about his £1 empire that is Stamford Bridge and how one day Chelsea would be kings of London, the Bridge would be a globally renowned football ground, Chelsea a powerhouse in English football. Like some sort of wartime propaganda. This crumbling old ground with loose masonry and an aspect that left you miles from the pitch, this old 1950's oval with no soul...The 'new' stand to our left which virtually bankrupted them, the millstone round their neck rusting away and temporarily made over with green plastic seats...In the distance the Shed end, that rounded terrace with a small roof at the back, grim London towerblocks behind in the gloom in the distance. To our right straight concrete block terracing with some seats, some real hardcore Chelsea were on there. Soon enough the teams came out and Wednesday looked pure in yellow, our boys that we loved so much, each of them special, each with a story worth telling. How could you not love Chrissy Turner, always too small but the bravest shot stopper and comforting to have since Kev lost his radar on Boxing day and Ron knew it like we did. Johnny Harkes, this young buck with energy to burn from New Jersey and a thunderbolt in him...Shirty, since Watford at home in 78/79, I would love for him to win this thing. Pearson, the driving spirit looking after them all...Sweet Sheri, sublime, orderly and simple- making us find the short inside pass that only good teams play..Danny, snapping away at them, full of spike with a goal around the corner. Carlton, braking up glaciers and ploughing the field up through the middle....father Worthington, so square, so solid, nobody would fall for the fake cross then little pass instead to the byline, the bridge from Howard and the 80s to this.....

And David. The boy wonder. The blistering pace, the hammer left foot, the cover on FHM, the best there might ever be. Never grow old, stay young forever, meet me up the field when we get to heaven, we'll play football until it gets dark.

Chelsea, limited and royal blue. No lithe, toned Kerry Dixon anymore, he's been in the pub and grown old, try as you might Kerry you might get a consolation, no Pat Nevin buzzing around, no little pig Micky Thomas bending them into the top corner, no nasty little Speedy, not even a Dale Jasper on the bench. But the unpleasant Dennis Wise, disliked at Wimbledon and despised at Chelsea. Andy Townsend all huff and puff and not much else. Not the stuff Dynastys are built on...

And so it started, the pitch all olive and cutting up, the ball bobbling. Rucks at the far end in the distance, some scrambles and a time delay on the crowds anguish as it set sail across the breeze towards us...Chrissy got kicked in the head going down in front of Wise didn't he? Our shouts and yells evaporated from this open terrace into the lunchtime air. Thousands of our hearts thumping stood on this open concrete crescent. We had them in check. Carlton elevating us physically above them in the middle. The far end began to raise a sign that read 'Oh poo , your'e quite good'. The yellow began to flow around the blue which became more bogged down. The milky Sun began to come through defining the Chelsea faces down the side and in the distance, the air became hazy and warmer and I could smell the grass. We pulled them about some more and Danny had an overhead kick which was getting close. 'Oh my God, we're in this, we're better than them', it's getting too much to bear, the thought we could do this..Richard gripped my fist and smiled 'This could be it, Jim.' A wave of togetherness and collective belonging drifted over us all with a massive 'Barmy Army, Barmy Army!!...half time.

We started again playing towards the Chelsea faces at the far end. They were quiet. It was a quiet stadium, so hard to make noise count. We were still superior. A good side, soon to be a top side were making their way against a poor side of no consequence. You could feel them all around their three sides of the ground waiting for us to come at them, even more confidently than us. Us, the Wednesday, not daring to believe. And so it came. They did fall for Father's step over, Shirty swung and then there were fists and screaming and hugging and the sky and people's trousers almost falling down. The man I was hugging was not Richard I don't know who. It was pandemonium in the rubble, the Chelsea thugs gesturing to our right in the distance. When I looked up we were one nil up. The game had better start again. Now the agony of having something to hang on to. Cream towers with flags in the distance appeared behind the tower blocks. Rescue Me by Madonna was echoing from there. A lump in my throat for all the bad times, the realisation that this could be it.

Time passed calmly for a while. There was still more yellow than blue in front of us, Helen tired with the tension draped against her boyfriend, a new set of faces around us since the goal because we had all moved around. This match, this game, the only thing going on in the world right now with us in the centre of it. The moments of our lives being made in front of us. Then we shunted one up the left channel, Willow headed back in to the on rushing path of the magic man who steadied himself and planted an arrow of glory into the far net. An explosion of humanity a total loss of control went on. Just screaming and more fists and yelling with no throats left, just hysteria and silver stars in the air. All the people who have ever known me smiled at me and said that's for you Jim....when I removed myself from my brother's bear hug, I looked up to see we were two nil up.

We stood all bunched together in a swaying mass of ecstacy that then calmed to disbelieving satisfaction. There were no alarms, Chrissy saved one in front of us that bobbled from Townsend and they petered out in front of us, the blue. Then the worry about how the hell do we get out of here alive? came to bear. Followed by what if the biggest Canoville collapse happens at Hillsborough next Wednesday?! But that was for another day. We stayed in our 8,000 strong pen for at least an hour as the abject cockneys dispersed, we had been here for hours, the heroes. Could anyone bear the second leg?

For those who were there, that's for you, and for all others who love the Wednesday. Time may pass, we grow older but we never forget the people who gave us our dreams when they were young. That's for you David.

i was there. On some of the old clips of highlights that was on tv you can see me and the then girlfriend in the away end waiting for the terrace to fill. It was a bit of a dump to say its on Kings rd etc. Cars parked behind the net !!

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