Wembley, May 17, 1990

By John Daly

Living and working on the Costa del Sol in April 1990 I agreed to go out to lunch rather than try and listen to the Liverpool semi-final on radio BFBS.  Later on driving home listening to the crackling car radio I thought I heard the result was 4-3 and imagined Kenny Dalglish's men had triumphed, but at home the television news soon put me right and I was straight on the phone to the UK to speak to my old mate Leonard, who used to have a season ticket next to mine.

Leonard worked importing fruit from Spain and was confident that with his contacts in the fruit markets across the UK he could obtain tickets for the final and he instructed me to book my plane ticket. But i wasn't confident. I mean, I wanted a ticket, not a tomato for god's sake! As I continued to read in the press on how difficult it was for supporters without season tickets to get tickets for the game I thought it better not to waste my money on an unused airline ticket.

Just a few days before the final I received a phone call from Leonard and he proudly told me he had two tickets for the final and had only had to pay the face value of £40. "Have you got your ‘plane ticket?" he asked. "Er...Yes" I lied but thanks to my favourite travel agent in Spain it was only a lie for about twenty minutes and I had a precious flight booked via Gib for Friday afternoon returning Sunday afternoon for about £100. I was a lucky boy. I fancy there were many supporters who paid a lot more than me even if they had no plane ticket to fund!

My mother had come to stay for a week or two and I had to explain to my wife that she would have to look after the mother-in-law for the last few days without me. To her credit she was very understanding and wanted me to go. Well, that's what she said at least.

I had been to Wembley only once before, about thirty years previously to watch an England vs Scotland game and we were sitting among the Scottish supporters. I was only 10 at the time and my only real recollection of the game was my amazement at how a whisky bottle seemed to appear in every Scottish hand the moment Tommy Ring’s shot hit the back of the England net. I knew then that I must take my hip flask with me; it was expected at Wembley.

Our tickets were about level with the edge of the penalty area on the opposite side of the stadium to the Royal Box but unfortunately nearer the United end and most (but fortunately not all) of the supporters around us were supporting the Red Devils. I have to admit that I remember very little of the match but I do remember the volume of noise when the teams entered the arena and the explosion of red and blue down the other end as the now traditional balloons were released (See entry No.11 for more balloons). And all this for the team we had both supported from the bottom of the old Third Division (South). I was so proud to be there.

When O’Reilly gave us the lead I was a bit intimidated by the United supporters around me but when Wrighty came on in the second half and almost immediately equalised at 2-2 I was up out of my seat. I am sure that in the dying minutes of normal time Dave Madden grazed the crossbar with a shot down our end or is that my fading memory playing tricks? So close to triumph.

At full-time I took out the hip flask and offered it to the elderly United supporter next to me. All our nerves needed the whiskey for medicinal purposes, of course. When Wrighty then gave us the lead at 3-2 in extra time I went ‘garrity’ and in retrospect I am grateful that the cameras were behind us as I suspect that the Institute of Chartered Accountants might have had words if they had spotted me and my subsequent career as FYP book balancer would have been in tatters.

With seven minutes to go Mark Hughes equalised for them and the game ended all square at 3-3. Was I disappointed that glory had been snatched away?  No, not really. It had been a cracking game in a great atmosphere and arguably one of the best finals ever witnessed at Wembley and I was so proud to be supporting my team and all they had achieved.

Back at Gib airport on the Sunday afternoon I was able to wave goodbye to my Mum as she went to board the plane that I had just got off. Then I was greeted by my wife with our two young sons and I spent the journey home telling the boys all about how good Palace had been at Wembley. I think they fell asleep.

The replay; back to BFBS on the crackling radio.

Watch the highlights below!