Marking? What marking?
We were made favourites for the title by the bookies at the beginning of the season, and there was even a documentary about us on the telly (and you didn't see that often). I was quite flattered. But it seemed a reasonable estimate. We'd just missed out the season before, and the team was at least as strong, perhaps slightly stronger. Or so I thought. As I remember it, this was the result where people really sat up and said, “Whoa, what's going on here? Cloughie's doing it again. These are the real deal”. They had no stars, not really — Gemmill was hardly the world' s greatest midfielder, or even the country's — just players who all did the simple things well, and who worked their socks off for each other.
I admit though that I was uneasy after travelling up to the City Ground (from London) for the away match against them in October. Toe-to-toe match, played at a hundred miles an hour, but they'd put down a marker that day. They were just that bit too good. I still believed, but I felt it was going to be a hell of a scrap after that match. As it turned out, we fell away badly.
And I still remember that season with crystal clarity, for a variety of reasons. It was the last year I lived in England (never lived there since), and it was our last hurrah in the league for many a long year. And with the effective retirement of King Colin shortly after (and he was clearly not the same player even in that season), it seemed to break the final link with the great City team I'd fallen in love and grown up with.