Villa Park, April 8, 1990

By Carl Davies

In hindsight, Sunday 8th April 1990 would turn out to be one of the greatest days of my life, it certainly didn't start that way.  Tired & hungover from a Saturday night watching the Happy Mondays followed by a Paul Oakenfield set in London hadn't been the best preparation for a lunchtime kick off at Villa Park for our first Semi Final in 14 years.  I was at Stamford Bridge in '76 but too young to appreciate it, this team of 1990 was for my generation, I'd been to close on every game home and away over the last couple of seasons and this was my turn to truly experience the Palace rollercoaster.  Despite the Palace obsession I shouted down to my dad and two friends to go without me, I was in pieces & in no fit state to go.  'You can't miss today' followed by plenty of abuse came back up the stairs, 20 minutes later a death warmed up version of me was travelling with friends and family from Buckinghamshire to Villa Park.

The first hour or so to Villa Park was uneventful, two red and blue scarves flew from the Astra's windows but in 1990 the M40 only went as far as Thame and as we worked our way across country not seeing another car going to the game, we questioned did we have the right weekend.  Our thoughts turned to the task ahead and the all conquering mighty Liverpool, when the draw had been made we had all shouted at the radio that we wanted Oldham or Man United except 1 person, me.  I wanted Liverpool, I had gone to Anfield earlier in the season and witnessed the 9-0 defeat, to make matters worse I had stayed up there for the remainder of the week and had to endure the taunts, the smugness and listen to Tommy Smith describe Palace as the worst team ever to play top flight football.  I had said to anybody who'd listen to me that what goes around comes around and that we'd get our revenge.  The subsequent league defeat with broken legs for Eddie McGoldrick and Ian Wright was heart breaking for me, i was certain we'd get our revenge.  The semi final offered us the ultimate chance of revenge and in front of a TV audience as for the first time both semi finals were to be shown live on a Sunday afternoon.  Having not seen so much as another scarf out of a car we were not prepared for what we saw when we joined the M1 at Milton Keynes, it was a sea of red and blue.  The M1 crawled three lanes wide of cars full of red and blue shirts, scarves fluttering away, it seemed every mini bus and coach had been hired in the South East and was heading for the Midlands with a Union Jack in the back window with CPFC emblazioned across the centre.  It was an invasion of over 17,500 from South London, Palace's biggest away support at the time for a game outside of London and I'd never been so proud to be a Palace fan.  Whilst Palace fans tooted & waved to each other, the odd car with a family of Liverpool fans in was greeted by thumbs down and a nescafe handshake.

We parked up at Aston and walked towards Villa Park following a crowd of Palace fans, it was over 90 minutes to kick off and it seemed everybody was here to support Palace, cutting across the park the ground came into view and for the first time my stomach sank, the nerves kicked in and doubts ran through me.  We were playing Liverpool, the greatest team of the last decade with house hold names such as Grobbelaar, Hansen, Beardsley, Barnes & Rush.  We were without our best player Ian Wright and an analyst on the radio had summed up our chances succinctly by saying not one of the Palace players would get into the Liverpool XI.  In the ground Palace fans occupied half the enormous Holte End terrace as well as the two tier seated Trinity Road stand.  A full hour before kick off the Palace section of the Holte End was packed and in full voice, we sang to our leader Steve Coppell and surged up and down the terrace.  Situated in front of a barrier half way up the immense terrace the 4 of us blew up our balloons and watched with pride as Palace filled up Villa Park.  12 months previous had been the tragic Hillsbororough disaster where 96 Liverpool fans had lost their lives, the police had asked fans to arrive early.  With 10 minutes remaining before kick off with every Palace fan in the ground the Liverpool sections seemed half full, then out of nowhere they came through the turnstyles, Villa Park was full and bouncing.  As the players emerged from the tunnel at the far end of the ground several thousand red and blue balloons were thrown in the air, unfortunately with a strong wind from our right to left the vast majority instantly took off and flew off straight out of the ground and into the park.  None the less it was still colourful and all the noise was coming from the Palace fans.

The first half went almost exactly the way everyone seemed to think it would.  Liverpool dominated possession whilst Palace set themselves up in a rigid defensive line-up with Mark Bright isolated up front.  Palace were playing one touch football, we'd have one touch, McMahon would win it back and Houghton, Beardsley and Barnes would keep it, probing at the Palace defence.  Despite the possession Liverpool were failing to trouble Nigel Martyn's goal at the Holte End in these early stages.  On 15 minutes the inevitable happened, McMahon won the ball from Pardew, one straight pass to Rush with Gary O'Reilly stepping up put Ian Rush clean through.  The Welshman didn't miss and slotted calmly passed Nigel Martyn, Liverpool were 1-0 and that was that.  There was very little celebration on the pitch from Liverpool players as they jogged back to the half way line and for me in the crowd there was relief.  The nerves had gone, we were losing, the game was already lost and at least now I didn't have to worry.  The hope had been killing me, for weeks I hadn't thought of anything else and at least now I could just watch the game without nerves & life would return to normality.  For the first time during the day the Palace fans fell silent, everyone who travelled that day knew if we were to win we'd have to keep a clean sheet.  The remainder of the first half played out in a similar way, Palace remained defensive minded, Liverpool kept possession and happy to coast without every really creating anymore clear cut chances. 


As the teams lined up for the second half there was little evidence to believe there would be anything other than Liverpool domination in the second half.  Whether is was a pre-determined plan or whether Steve Coppell gave the team talk of his life but within 18 seconds of Liverpool restarting the game Mark Bright smashed the ball into the top of Grobbelar's net and Palace were back level.  The goal owed everything to an explosion of pace by 'oh Johnny Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny Pemberton' as he picked up the ball in his own half, roasted two defenders before putting in a perfect cross which fell to Salako, his shot was blocked by the keeper before Brighty smashed it home.  Where had that come from, before Sir Steve had sat back down in the dugout Palace were back in business.  Out of the Trinity Road stand a few joined Brighty & Pembo on the pitch, on the Holte End we tumbled down row after row in delirium.  This was a terrace at its best.

The goal inspired Palace on, Thomas had now taken control of the midfield, Gray & Salako pushed forward to link up with Bright and Liverpool's measured approach from the first half was lost as Palace pressed all over the pitch.  'Olay Olay Olay, Eagles' echoed around the ground as Thomas was denied giving Palace the lead by an instinctive block from Grobbelar.  The underdogs now looked the most likely to score as free kicks and long throws unsettled the once assured Hanson & co at the back.  On 69 minutes Palace took a deserved lead, Gray swung in a free kick into the danger area, Bright headed across to O'Reilly who smashed it past a helpless Grobbelar.  For a second the ground stood still in disbelief before sheer pandemonium broke out on the Holte End as we tumbled down towards the celebrating players in front of us.  Dalglish looked as grey as his team's pigeon poo coloured shirts.

We'd scored too early, it seemed inconceivable that this Palace team, or any Palace team coming to think about it, would keep possession, strangle the game and run out comfortable winners.  Despite Palace dominating the midfield and Liverpool creating very few chances, with 8 minutes to go the inevitable happened.  A free kick around the edge of the box gave Staunton the opportunity to swing a cross in for their big centre backs, or so we all thought.  Instead, Liverpool ran the ball down the side of the wall for Venison to drill a cross the goal for McMahan to emphatically smash home.  The goal was creative, the goal was superbly executed but most of all the goal was heartbreaking.  This time Liverpool players and fans celebrated like they had won the FA Cup, they were back in the game that they thought they had lost.  A minute later and the game was turned on its head.  Beardsley out wide cut a ball inside to the marauding Staunton who cut across Pemberton.  The Liverpool left back wasn't going anywhere but feeling a touch on his back he threw himself to the ground and George Courtney pointed to the spot.  It's the sort of penalty that Palace don't get and others seem to.  Pembo had gone from hero to villain in less than 45 minutes of football.  It was now Barnes versus the countries 1st million pound keeper, despite Nigel Martyn going the right way, Barnes found the corner of the net and Liverpool led 3-2 with barely five minutes left on the clock.  Liverpool fans spilled onto the pitch, their double was back on, we were as distraught as John Pemberton looked.

It is funny what you can still remember from over 20 years ago.  With 4 minutes to go Palace were throwing everything forward when the ball broke 25 yards out to Richard Shaw, my first reaction was don't shoot.  This was Shaw's first season in the team, he went on to be a firm favourite of all Palace fans but even back then in his early days I didn't fancy him to score from distance.  His shot sailed over my head and that seemed that, our last chance had gone.  People around me started to leave.  A minute later with 'You'll Never Walk Alone' being sung from our right, a long ball from the back was headed towards goal by Thomas, as Liverpool failed to clear our captain again headed towards goal which was cleared off the line only for Gray to nip in and head home.  It was mayhem on the terrace, we tumbled down the Holte End in sheer joy to the celebrating players in front of us.  Unbelievable.  As I looked around to get my bearings, find my friends and family I noticed the Palace fans running back across the park to get back into the ground.  They had left too early.  The 90 minutes were still not over and in injury time, Gray bent in a lovely cross, with 2 Palace players unmarked Thorn headed against the cross bar when it looked easier for him or Thomas to score.

Extra time could not be as fast and frenzied as the previous 45 minutes but still Palace continued to put Liverpool under pressure and threaten from Gray's long throws and set pieces.  Four minutes into the second half a hero was born.  Alan Pardew had always been seen by the fans as one of the weakest links in the team, despite being part of a promotion team he had regularly left the pitch to cheers & jeers.  Today he was about to become Super Al.  Again the goal was in front of us at the Holte End with Thorn flicking on a Gray near post corner for Pardew to head home.  There was confusion on the terrace, the first reaction was that it must have been Thomas that had scored, he was a likely hero, it was his type of goal but the moment belonged to Super Al and he would become one of the Fab 4 when they recorded Glad All Over at Abbey Road.

The next 11 minutes seemed like an eternity, we knew from our experiences half hour earlier how quickly a game could change.  Every time our big Cornishman in goal fell on the ball we celebrated like another goal had gone in.  Injury time of extra time was spent with Mark Bright chasing hacked clearances up the field, still Palace chased every ball.  120 minutes of football, no substitutions from the Eagles but still we looked the fresher team.  When eventually the final whistle did blow the party started both on & off the pitch.  One quick handshake from Coppell and he sprinted in the opposite direction from us towards the tunnel, leaving his players to take the plaudits with the fans.  Wright, a man with a broken leg ran on to celebrate with Bright and Gray.  On the terrace grown men cried, we were going to Wembley in a major final for the first time.  Players and fans alike celebrated, cuddling anybody they could get their hands on and for the first real time in our lives we sang 'Que Sara Sara'. 

By the time we left Villa Park there were only Palace fans around.  We were exhausted, mentally drained.  These were the days before mobile phones, there were no friends to call to celebrate with, instead we just talked and cuddled strangers.  On the way back home the motorway was full of Palace, we pulled into Corley Services, on the roof Palace fans danced, drinking beer and singing.  This was our 15 minutes of fame.  The night was spent being a celebrity in Marlow, the 4 of us had gone out still wearing our Palace shirts.  We barely bought a drink all night as people came up to congratulate us. 

The following day the headlines read Palace in Wonderland & Golden Eagles.  The Sun described both Semi Finals as the best TV since man landed on the moon.  The Mail summed it up best, 'Crystal Palace brought mighty Liverpool to their knees and the whole nation to its feet in breathless admiration'.

All of that action is below. Enjoy!