As soon as the tickets went live, I was there to book tickets for my wife, son-in-law, and older brother. It was a nice surprise that next year season pass holders can also apply for phase 1.
I haven’t had a season ticket since moving to Worcestershire 20 years ago but since retiring I’ve been able to attend quite a few home games recently which meant buying of two reasonably priced subscriptions for the next year was a brain no.
My son-in-law came with me, and I’m proud to say he caught the Sunderland virus, despite the daily aggro from the so-called Liverpool, Chelsea, Man Utd “fans” at his school, who don’t haven’t attended a game in their lives!
My brother drove to ours from Shrewsbury, and we took the M40 to Hillingdon tube station listening to the WMS SAFC music Spotify playlist. A 23 minute ride to Wembley Park and we could relax. The sea of red and white, the joy, the unusual hope we felt.
My son-in-law had already tasted enough downs in his short four-year life in Sunderland for me to feel guilty for introducing him to this life path. The short trip to Cheltenham for us being perhaps the worst; losing to a bad team, no manager, no hope. And now this.
Tears of joy, a huge beam on his face that even his mom had never seen before, hugging my older brother in disbelief. Together we had seen all the failures of Wembley over the years. As you get older, you realize there aren’t just 22 players kicking a ball.
It’s my childhood, The Paddock, The Fullwell, SOL, my teenage years, my student years, it’s starting to shape into who we really are. It becomes who I am, or at least part of who I am. This is my story.
Leaving Wembley in the sun, for once not having to listen to the joy of the other team from within. Memories are made of this.
The big ship has turned around and we resume our journey. My last subscription was in a season when the average attendance was 48,000 – go for it!