Dick Knights Mumm
Take me Home Falmer Road
It was the season we were on our way to the title and the afternoon that Zamora returned from injury. It was a fantastic atmosphere in the away stand. My lad (then about 13) was with me. He had been to the Goldstone (for that Orient match), we were regulars at the Priestfield, and we were season ticket holders at Withdean.
I should say at this point he played football – but he preferred rugby – which was his game. Also love of football was not passed from my father to me – it was something I discovered when I started playing school football, and being very different from my father I was unsure whether it is possible to pass on the passion of the father to a son. He enjoyed coming to the Albion - but how much of that was because he wanted to please his father and how much was it that he “felt” football, and understood what being a supporter was ?
Anyway - there was a tremendous roar from the away terrace when Zamora was announced in the team. We didn’t expect him to play – so suddenly the afternoon got more exciting. When the game started there was a fantastic atmosphere on the terrace (as there always was at Posh then). First half we were awarded a penalty – well that must be one-nil. But Zamora missed. I did think that might be our chance gone – Peter Taylor was not one for the expansive game. However twenty minutes to go, right in front of us, Zamora swivelled and scored. The terrace erupted.
After that it was tense. Taylor was not a man to press for a second. With about 10 minutes to go I looked at my lad. He was standing with hands cupped on the side of his face, eyes firmly fixed on the ground. I asked whether he was ok. “I can’t watch. It is too tense”. At that moment I knew he “got” football, understood the Albion, and was with us for life. Football is visceral and once you have it – you don’t lose it.
The whistle went, we celebrated. The players came over, Al and I lifted him up, and Tim (is Tim still around ?) took the photo and loaded it up onto his site. It is probably my favourite photo.
I should say at this point he played football – but he preferred rugby – which was his game. Also love of football was not passed from my father to me – it was something I discovered when I started playing school football, and being very different from my father I was unsure whether it is possible to pass on the passion of the father to a son. He enjoyed coming to the Albion - but how much of that was because he wanted to please his father and how much was it that he “felt” football, and understood what being a supporter was ?
Anyway - there was a tremendous roar from the away terrace when Zamora was announced in the team. We didn’t expect him to play – so suddenly the afternoon got more exciting. When the game started there was a fantastic atmosphere on the terrace (as there always was at Posh then). First half we were awarded a penalty – well that must be one-nil. But Zamora missed. I did think that might be our chance gone – Peter Taylor was not one for the expansive game. However twenty minutes to go, right in front of us, Zamora swivelled and scored. The terrace erupted.
After that it was tense. Taylor was not a man to press for a second. With about 10 minutes to go I looked at my lad. He was standing with hands cupped on the side of his face, eyes firmly fixed on the ground. I asked whether he was ok. “I can’t watch. It is too tense”. At that moment I knew he “got” football, understood the Albion, and was with us for life. Football is visceral and once you have it – you don’t lose it.
The whistle went, we celebrated. The players came over, Al and I lifted him up, and Tim (is Tim still around ?) took the photo and loaded it up onto his site. It is probably my favourite photo.
