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**cahillwilsaveus** · 06-08-2010, 07:27 PM

One of the best posts i've ever read on 606. It's gotten over 500 5 stars and it's only on the derby co. board!!!

Memories of my Dad
Championship Derby County
by vidalslastapostle (U9499391) 07 June 2010

Two weeks ago I made a long trip with my sister to North Devon to scatter my Dad’s ashes on a path overlooking the sea, in the same spot where we had done the same for my Mum. They had chosen the spot themselves as this was where we had spent our summer holidays virtually every year when we were growing up, the happiest times of their lives.
It was the most beautiful day and as I stood looking out to sea, summoning up memories of my Dad, I found that the ones which had stuck most were those relating to watching football. The first, on black and white TV, the 1970 World Cup quarter-final, two-nil up against West Germany, before Alf's substitutions, Gerd Muller and disaster. I was 6 and inconsolable, crying in my bed when Dad issued the immortal words: “Don’t be upset, it’s just a game”. I remember thinking then what a stupid thing that was for a father to say!
He supported Derby for over 60 years, and when he started taking me with him at the age of four it was the beginning of the glory years. We used to get into the Baseball Ground at one o’clock so that I could put down my stool at the front of The Paddock, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to see anything. He had to somehow keep me entertained for the interminable two hours before kick-off. It was a season and a half before I saw us lose.
When my Mum died he seemed to visibly shrink. He still came to the games, but for a long while he seemed almost disinterested in the outcome, and I realised the main reason he came was to spend time with me and my own two lads. Eventually, though, he recovered, and my last strong footballing memory of him is in the immediate aftermath of the play-off final, a look of utter jubilation on his face.
Most precious of all for me is thinking about May 8th 1972. It being a school night, I had been sent to bed while Wolves played Leeds and Arsenal played Liverpool, but with twenty minutes to go he woke me up and I was allowed to come halfway (only halfway, mind you!) downstairs while we listened to the radio and prayed that Leeds would not score. At about a quarter past nine, father and son went bonkers as The Rams claimed the title and I have always blessed him for making sure that I witnessed our greatest triumph.
With his death I have come to realise that in waking me up on that night, he also had a selfish motive. As a fan who had supported Derby through some very dark days, this was for him the moment of supreme triumph, and to make his joy complete, he needed his lad to be with him. As well as giving me the ultimate memory, he was doing the same for himself: the joy of sharing the greatest moment of his life with his son.
My reasons for laying this on you are also pretty selfish: it's therapeutic just to write these things down. I don't care if you comment or not. I also feel there's no harm in occasionally putting forward the belief that football should be about the simple emotions of joy and sadness rather than bitterness, rage and hatred.
My kids are now about the same age as I was on that wonderful night. If England win the World Cup next month I know where I want to be: jumping up and down on the stairs with my boys, not legless in a pub somewhere. If and when we get knocked out, we'll share the pain, and maybe in forty years' time they'll remember how it felt to do this with their Dad.

Happy0144