By and large, I've been travelling to games for over 50 years, and predominantly with the same group of mates. Indeed the day I lose the pre match anticipation and camaraderie, (whilst arguing over the quickest route to the ground) will be the day I stop going.
I've always believed that when we yearn for the old days, we're really yearning for our youth, and our first experience of the collective emotional bliss that only football can bring.
Similar to music, yet almost the opposite when so many opponents are simultaneously suffering on the other side of the fence.
Of course we recognise their pain, because we've been there. We've suffered far worse, and for longer periods, albeit some dark moments become funnier with the passing of time:
John Hawley scoring a hat trick for Sunderland: the countless SWALES OUT demonstrations: the all yellow away kit at Highbury: 4-0 and 6-0 defeats at the Baseball Ground: the Eric Nixon Red Card v Palace: Michael Hughes missing a penalty in the last minute: losing 2-1 at St Andrews after taking the lead in the 90th minute: Steve Lomas time wasting when we desperately needed another goal: 3-0 down after 30 minutes at Stockport.
Now it's our turn to laugh at Zebra Pants and MIGHT AS WELL BE CELTIC
Fuck em