The Elm Park Years Part 8: In sight of the Promised Land

As I watched the Royals parade their Division Two Championship trophy around Elm Park in the rain at the end of season friendly against Genoa, I had a real feeling of job done. I'd spent three seasons watching Reading all over the country slowly building up to their title challenge, whilst I worked towards my degree. Now both projects had been accomplished it begged the question, what next? I fudged the question of a career by enrolling on a Masters degree course at Reading University, which provided the opportunity of study alongside gainful employment at Southern Electric. By remaining a student I was entitled to buy a season ticket for just £90 with my relocation back to Berkshire, yet I sort of knew this would be my last season watching Reading full time. Little did I know what an unforgettable season this would be, and how valuable that season ticket would become by the Spring.

I suppose I didn't really consider how well Reading would do in the higher division. I was confident it would not be a season fighting relegation. Perhaps one of mid table consolidation with a cup run. Certainly not a full blown second successive promotion campaign. Mark McGhee had again trawled the bargain basement in the summer transfer market by signing Dariusz Wdowczyk, Simon Osborn, Andy Bernal and Paul Holsgrove. All four were well worth the transfer fee and although Holsgrove was very much a make do and mend type player the other three would prove their worth from the off with Wdowczyk and Osborn being the two best players I saw in Reading colours.

The fixture list sent Reading to Molineux on the opening day and we travelled up to the Black country in bright summer sunshine, eager to find out how the Royals would fare against a team tipped for the title. Before a sell out crowd, the PA whipped up the Wolves fans into a post match frenzy by playing Hi Ho Silver Lining, Woolly Bully and finally the Liquidator which saw men in Old Gold contort their faces in anger as they screamed "fuck off West Brom, the Wolves". For the first time in my life I saw the proof of the phrase "the crowd are worth a goal head start" as the home fans seemed to suck the ball into the net to give Wolves an early lead. However once the pre match bombast had died down, Reading dominated in an enthralling performance which saw everything apart from a goal. Leaving the ground it was clear that the beautiful football that had won Reading the title a few months earlier could easily transfer to a higher level, which when infused with the class of Wdowcyzk and Osborn, would turn aspirations for the season sky high.

The season started slowly in terms of results though until a double sending off for the visitors at Elm Park saw Reading get up and running with a 4-0 win over Stoke at the end of August.

A coupon busting 3-1 win at Oldham (I had backed Reading to win 2-1 at very good odds but had little time to celebrate before news of a third goal came through) lifted the Royals up to the heady heights of second, and they were to remain in the top six for pretty much the rest of the season. Each point was to be hard earned though and the autumn campaign seemed to provide as many setbacks as it did wins. 

Despite the attraction of many new grounds to visit I had decided to restrict my away trips to the south east, and therefore had a very different experience of watching Reading compared to previous three year exile in Lancashire. At home crowds remained buoyant, being upwards of seven thousand for every game, providing a first taste of the soccer revolution, inspired by Italia 90, Fever Pitch and the Premier League, as many new fans started to watch live football. Reading provided the perfect prescription of good football to watch which was cheap and easily accessible, set against a background of a growing local population eager to support a successful team. Therefore expectations were now a little higher, a fact best reflected by the new fanzine Heaven Eleven which had none of the wit and gallows humour of its predecessors Elm Park Disease and Taking The Biscuit, instead adopting the baser humour and demanding tone reflected by the new football media such as Fantasy Football League and 6-0-6. Likewise the away following was much bigger, quick to take offence to Jan Age Fjortoft's goal celebration at Swindon which was a just response to the barracking he received. 

Two short away trips provided the highlight of a stodgy autumn. At Watford Reading were soon two goals down, leading McGhee to quickly change tactics which inspired a stunning fightback led by Scott Taylor, Osborn and Stuart Lovell scoring to earn a point. At Charlton Reading won the game in style, the opening goal being a stunning volley by Osborn as the Royals returned to the top three.

As autumn turned into winter though it was clear that there was something missing. Up front Jimmy Quinn's age was starting to catch up with him whilst his strike partner Lovell was still learning his trade, and the lack of goals was beginning to tell on results. There was no doubt Reading would compete well enough to stay the course as a 1-1 draw against eventual champions Middlesbrough in early December showed but something was required to turn them from play off contenders into promotion winners.

The catalyst came in two forms, both conventional but with stunning results. McGhee was now being talked about in the national papers as a one of the best young managers around, with sports editors helped by his connection to the now eminent Alex Ferguson. To me it seemed obvious that McGhee would soon be tempted away from Reading whose ambitions were inevitably limited by their Elm Park ground which prevented the necessary expansion of the supporter base and commercial activity to even match the resources of the average club in the division. His manner of leaving though proved rancourous and ultimately saw me take my own leave of Elm Park as my opinion of his departure seemed to be wildly at odds of everyone else at the club. To me once Reading allowed McGhee to talk to Leicester they had given him the green light to leave and I didn't understand why anyone would begrudge him a move to a Premier League club. However chairman John Madejski successfully spun a story that after a night of negotiations McGhee had had a change of heart and agreed to stay at Elm Park only to turn again to move to Filbert Street. This implication of old fashioned deceit, of breaking his word, led to McGhee becoming public enemy number one forever more, whilst Madejski was seen as a wronged man who had bargained hard in the interests of the club and therefore was rewarded by the supporters standing fully behind him.

Its hard to remember that these were the days before 24 hour rolling news coverage. There were just snippets of news amounting to just a few lines in the national press. Therefore its still unclear what happened. There is a rumour that McGhee was determined to leave due to Madejski's continuing fiscal austerity which reportedly extended to refusing to pay for the team to have fish and chips on the coach back from away games. At the time I saw a Chairman embarrassed at his mistake to allow his best asset to talk to another club and therefore trying to obscure this by presenting McGhee as a traitor for leaving. With the benefit of hindsight Reading have had the last laugh by becoming a genuine force in the second rank of English football whilst McGhee never came close to realising his potential. Whatever the truth of the matter I felt distinctly uncomfortable standing on the South Bank listening to the abuse directed at a man who had produced a miracle to get the team not only to emerge as serious contenders for the Premier League but also do it in such style. It was also galling that most of those vituperative voices were nowhere to be seen until success was virtually a fait accompli. Still at least there was the consolation that it fired the team to their best victory of the season so far.

The first game after McGhee left was to be broadcast live on ITV on Sunday afternoon. Wolves were the visitors to Elm Park and despite Reading's position in the table were still the favourites to win and complete the double over the Royals who were being run by a committee of senior players. With appositely named Dutchman John de Wolf a striking presence in the Wanderers midfield, it had all the makings of a cup tie rather than a league match and with a febrile atmosphere surrounding Elm Park an early injury to Steve Froggatt upped the ante even further. In a bona fide classic, Wolves took the lead, but it was Reading who went into half time ahead thanks to Osborn and Quinn. Unfortunately Quinn scored at the other end to allow Wolves back into the game after the break but that only spurred the Royals to greater efforts as they sealed the win with two goals from Michael Gilkes whilst Shaka Hislop made sure the visitors would not create a last act. The match introduced Reading to a national audience and for Hislop started the transfer speculation that would lead to a well deserved career in the top flight. More significantly to Reading the decision of the two men who would eventually be given the job of managing the team, Quinn and Mick Gooding, to tinker with McGhee's ball playing philosophy, along with the Christmas signing of striker Lee Nogan, provided the impetus to ensure the second half of the season would end as the greatest in the club's long history to that point.

Madejski wisely made the innovative decision to make Quinn and Gooding joint managers. This kept the incredibly valuable team spirit in tact and allowed Reading's forward momentum to continue. Quinn and Gooding remainded faithful to McGhee's footballing values but encouraged the team to get the ball forward quicker to ratchet up the pressure on the opposition. After a patchy opening month for the new managerial pair, they never looked back, as new signing Nogan fitted perfectly into the team which really started to turn in the results as winter turned into spring. For me two evening home games stood out in the memory. They were low key in nature against Southend and Oldham but the way in which the team stuck to their task to overcome determined mid table opposition (particularly the Latics who led for much of the game), signalled to me that this was a team that could go all way. Still at Elm Park the outstanding 4-1 demolition of Watford was countered with a dire 3-0 defeat to Barnsley, and following a collapse against Port Vale at Elm Park which saw a 3-0 half time lead courtesy of a Nogan hat trick squandered, the Royals lay outside the play off positions in sixth place with only four games to go.

The Vale game was the first of the Easter weekend with the short trip to Kenilworth Road to come on Easter Monday. This was to be only my second away trip since the turn of the year, having also been to the defeat at Millwall, an evening most notable for a train full of Reading fans returning to London Bridge, singing the theme tune to the Magic Roundabout to a local blonde haired youth who was keen to articulate the local  fans reputation. The game at Luton was a tense affair with an Ady Williams goal seeing all three points return to Berkshire.

Just four days later, Bolton travelled to Elm Park. Familiar opposition whilst Reading had languished in Division Three, the Trotters were now the country's pre eminent club, looking good for promotion having reached the League Cup Final. The crowds flocked to the ground with the gates ultimately being locked with many, including most of my friends, left outside whilst my season ticket gained me safe passage through the queues to the gate without a line. In a game of stunning quality for this level of football, Reading edged home 2-1 with Hislop again to the fore. Lovell had opened the scoring before David Lee equalised soon after half time. With only minutes remaining an audacious pass from Osborn put Nogan through to win the game with a performance that was the best I ever saw at Elm Park.

Silverware was to follow at the start of May with a Berks & Bucks Cup Final win at Wycombe over Slough. It was a case of smiles all round as the Rebels discovered they had been promoted by default due to Enfield's financial mismanagement. The game ended in a lame pitch invasion in view of the magnitude of what was happening in the league, but the way in which the Royals had taken the County Cup seriously was a big boon to football in the area as I had found out earlier in the competition when they had won at York Road, the squad freely chatting to all in the Maidenhead United social club after the club, with Stuart Lovell telling me how much better the post match hospitality was compared to York Road.

The final game of the league season saw the ITV cameras return to Elm Park. Once again Reading thoroughly entertained the viewers with Osborn scoring with another volley against the Addicks, Williams winning the game with two minutes left after Charlton had equalised. Watching the game again on video, it ended with a wonderful line from commentator Brian Moore, screaming "here come the madcaps" as the pitch invasion started early. The result had left Reading in a final position of second. Sod's law meant that this was the first time the runners up had not been promoted automatically due to the reduction of clubs in the Premier League, but there was no feeling of injustice. Reading had not been in the top three since October and the final placing was viewed only as a historical footnote for the record books, the mood was very much one of nonchalance such was the confidence that the play offs would be won.

The draw paired Reading with Tranmere Rovers, the media darlings of the period thanks to their old pros Pat Nevin and John Aldridge. With John King having served notice of the potential of his team in an FA Cup tie at Elm Park in 1989, Rovers had gone on to win promotion twice and this was to be their third attempt to get to the Premier League via the play offs. Rovers might have had experience but the naive optimism possessed by the Royals was intoxicating and as I headed up the M6 for the first time that season, the lack of any real expectation made the ensuing 3-1 deconstruction of the home team all the more enjoyable. Nogan and Lovell were at their very best that day, leaving the second leg as a mere detail which was negotiated with satisfyingly dull ease reflected by the casual way we all wandered onto the Elm Park turf at the final whistle.

Life watching Reading continued to be like a Hollywood movie. The tickets for Wembley were secured  with the opposition being the best of the play off teams, Bolton. Following the short train ride up to  London we joined the throng outside the Globe pub opposite Baker Street station, not even attempting to get served at the bar, we popped into a local off licence and enjoyed the fun as everyone cheered a Royals fan attempting to pin his colours to some scaffolding up on high. Soon it was time to board the train up to the Twin Towers, trading banter across the carriage, then chiding the Bolton fans for their faith in John McGinlay whilst walking up Wembley Way. We took our seats high up behind the goal and smiled with disbelief as Reading took the lead through Nogan, then doubled it through Williams. It was almost too easy but utterly in line with two whole seasons of everything following the glorious script of success. Then we rose to our feet and bounced around once more as the referee pointed to the penalty spot.

It seems odd now looking at the bare facts of the game but it really did feel like Reading had blown it when Lovell's penalty was saved by Keith Branagan. It was the moment at which the enormity of what the team was trying to achieve had sunk in, and the fine margins by which it would be decided were revealed. The save revitalised the Bolton team and the Reading team suddenly looked tired. All the adrenaline of the last few weeks seemed to finally take their toll and despite the two goal cushion it felt like a case of when not if Bolton would get back into the game. Perhaps it was a reflection of the tight win in the league a few weeks previously, Bolton were after all an outstanding team under Bruce Rioch. Perhaps it was the age old fear that grips when the ultimate prize is in touching distance. Perhaps it was just one game too many.

Re reading the match report of the game it is scarcely believable the score was still 2-0 with fifteen minutes to go, and four left when the equaliser finally came, but in my mind Reading's cause was lost with the missed penalty, a memory perhaps shaped by the media narrative which inevitably followed. With Bolton going from strength to strength in extra time, the mood became more desperate as I had to suffer a soundtrack supplied by an American accent somewhere behind me, on a loop of "let's go Reading". After Fabian De Freitas had confirmed the victory with a fourth goal, Reading finally scored their third through Quinn, a goal that felt cruel in offering hope, but welcome in preserving the close nature of the game.

The final whistle at last released us from play off purgatory to allow us to luxuriate in the truly British response to glorious failure. Never mind we thought, we couldn't have been really serious in thinking the likes of Arsenal, Liverpool and Manchester United would be visiting Elm Park on a regular basis. Time to enjoy the memory of hope and speculation safe in the knowledge that we would not have to deal with the possible reality of a season of embarrassment in the top flight. 

A few days later we left work to travel over to Reading to watch the open top bus parade, the town turning out in the pouring rain to thank the team for offering a glimpse of a glorious future. Gathering in front of the Town Hall the microphone was passed around the squad to deliver a message to the fans, the definitive words being uttered by the classy Pole, Wdowczyk: "I love you. I love you all",

The Elm Park Years Part 7: Mark McGhee is Magic

"Mark McGhee is magic,

He wears a magic hat,

And when he saw the Championship,

He said I'm having that"

Anon, The South Bank 1993/94

The joy of watching football is contained in its unpredictability. Regardless of the number of games that end in their expected outcome there are enough that don't to sustain even the faintest of hopes of upsetting the odds. By contrast then, what made watching Reading romp to the 1994 Division Two title so enjoyable was that it was a rare example of everything going to plan. The rarity of the near perfect season, especially at Elm Park, in itself was a brilliant example of an outsider upsetting the odds.

The Royals essentially led the way from start to finish, and barring the odd slip, like me graduated with second division honours at the end of the season. The title was also a great reward for me and the other 2.000 or so fans who were still going to Elm Park in 1991, who loyally stood by Mark McGhee as he slowly built a team that could deliver his vision of free flowing winning football. Watching for the first time in years, the highlights video of the season, I was struck by the high quality of Reading's play, notably their passing and high tempo counter attacking, all finished off by some glorious goals from the wise experience of Jimmy Quinn and the youthful boldness of Stuart Lovell.

It was hardly a surprise that Reading hit the ground running. They were the form team at the end of the previous season with McGhee only adding two full backs to his squad over the summer. The right sided one Ray Ranson was to remain a figure as peripheral as his position but his partner on the other flank Dylan Kerr proved to be the one ingredient that was required to turn a good team into a great one, his cheeky character and ability to score from long range adding a new dimension to the side.

Michael Gilkes was now the only remaining member of the Simod Cup winning squad, with Steves Richardson and Francis having moved on in the summer, and it was a mark of the development of the team that Gilkes' talent was now only one of the reasons which made a trip to Elm Park an attractive one, and certainly not the most important. Aside from forwards Quinn and Lovell, and player of the year Kerr, there was super keeper Shaka Hislop, steely defenders Jeff Hopkins and Ady Williams, brave hearted midfielders Phil Parkinson and Mick Gooding, whilst Gilkes' pace was matched on the right by Scott Taylor. A particular favourite player of mine though was Kevin Dillon, a sublime passer of the ball who also possessed a short fuse which could liven up the dullest of games.

The power and resilience of the team was already in evidence at the early season home games I attended. First up were Burnley, probably the biggest team in the division, Reading edging home 2-1 in a tense finish to a game having looked comfortable following an impressive first half. I wasn't able to buy a programme for this game, a feature which was common throughout this season and reflected the ever improving attendances.

A month later Plymouth Argyle came to Elm Park in what was the match of the season. Argyle along with Reading and ironically the next visitors to Berkshire, Hull City, formed the top three answers to the question about which places in England had never produced a top flight football club. With Plymouth being managed by Peter Shilton they were expected to be serious title contenders, and their big travelling support saw their team go toe to toe with Reading in a five goal thriller which was decided by my favourite ever Elm Park goal, a late shot from distance by the maestro Quinn.

With two promotion rivals beaten my return north to university meant my next Reading game would be against a third, Port Vale who were unbeaten at home to that point. My first and so far only trip to the Wembley of the north saw Reading give a virtuoso performance, the best I saw that season, completely dismantling their opponents 4-0 in front of over 9,000 spectators. Four days later I took advantage of a new late night train service from Manchester Airport which guaranteed I could get home from Rotherham. I might as well have left early as Reading gave away a 2-0 lead . Still it was point on the road and travelling back over the Pennines in a bus on rail tracks I met Paul, another student based in Manchester with whom I was to share many a happy trip to and from Reading games.
Its amazing to look back now and think that I went to games all over the country in the knowledge that I would bump into someone I knew without needing to use any form of the yet to be invented social media, indeed I didn't even have a landline in my student house, let alone a mobile phone. I could go along to games not having to worry about buying a ticket in advance, knowing I would find someone to have a drink with and share part of my journey so that a post mortem on the match could be conducted. A deaf Reading fan called Chris would also come along with Paul from Manchester, whilst depending on the location of the away game I would usually meet a friend from the Thames Valley who was studying locally.
However my next trip was back home and the opportunity to go to the game at the Goldstone Ground. Reading beat Brighton with a solitary goal from Scott Taylor to hit the top of the table for the first time in mid November. Back up north Reading really showed their cool against eventual play off winners Burnley at a packed Turf Moor. Mick Gooding had given Reading the lead, but when the Royals went down to ten men with the dismissal of on loan full back Paul Humphrey, the Clarets sensed a way back laying siege to the Reading defence guarding the cricket field end. Eager to keep up the momentum, veteran striker Adrian Heath chipped the ball back to goalkeeper Hislop after a foul. Shaka stood tall and watched with hands by his side as the ball sailed over his six and a half foot frame. This led the referee to book Heath for time wasting and as he had already been cautioned a red card followed. The ground erupted in fury aside from the laughing away section as Inchy eventually traipsed off the pitch.
Personally I had now seen the Royals take 25 out of 27 points from the matches I had attended, with no defeats so had no doubt that what I was watching had serious title potential. This ambition was confirmed by no less an authority than Neil Warnock who brought his Huddersfield team to Elm Park, the week before Christmas. Colin clearly set out his stall to park the bus, in what was something of a compliment considering the Terriers' preeminence in the previous two seasons, albeit a frustrating one to watch from the South Bank.
Winter intervened to stop a long anticipated return to Twerton Park for the Boxing Day Holiday fixture against Bristol Rovers, the news of relegation coming over the airwaves as we turned off the M4, but this proved to be fortuitous as it meant the team would be 100% fit for the visit of second placed Stockport County to Elm Park the next day. The crowds flocked to the ground in such numbers that the gates of the South Bank and Tilehurst End were closed, leaving many to stand in the away end, where home fans soon outnumbered those from the north. Reading rose to the occasion, winning comfortably 2-0 to create the surreal sight of the Town end erupting with joy at a Reading goal, as the South Bank sang "seven points clear".
This buffer proved to be useful on New Year's Day when I finally managed to see a game at Ninian Park, four years after a previous January 1st visit ended in the car park with news of a postponement. A struggling Cardiff really saw the fans turn out for them that day, over ten thousand turning up to see the league leaders fall to a 3-0 defeat and send the Bob Bank into much beating of heads as they repeatedly did the Ayatollah. Yet the most memorable incident came when a Reading player went down injured in front of the Cardiff fans. Dillon took exception to their comments and decided to strike the free kick as hard as he could from the touchline into the packed terrace. Fortunately we didn't have far to walk back to the car after the game.
Back at Elm Park Reading got back to winning ways with a hard fought victory over dark horses York City and a rather more comfortable one over doomed Hartlepool United, the corresponding away game with the latter being my next trip to see the Royals, which even given my residence in Preston was a long one.
The game at the north eastern Victoria Ground has since been immortalised in Harry Pearson's book the Far Corner, and for me standing on the chilly open terrace behind the goal with the length of the pitch to my right undeveloped and open to the harsh elements of the North Sea over the road, it became the day I was immortalised on film for the end of season video, although I expect I'm the only one who can make myself out stood next to Russ Marlin and Graham Luckett. Just over two thousand saw the Royals sail to victory and keep the title ship on course, not that this bothered the youths outside the ground at a nearby bus stop. When reminded of the scoreline they simply replied "fuck off we're Man U".
All roads now pointed to Plymouth, who now presented themselves as the Royals' main challengers. Fortunately I had a friend at college there so along with former school mates now studying in Birmingham and London we descended on Richard's house for the weekend. Our host was full of tales about the notorious Lyndhurst stand and they duly delivered behaviour which turns my stomach to this day. On loan Ray Wallace made his debut for the Royals at Home Park and his unfamiliarity with his teammates was pounced on by Plymouth early in the game as they took what proved to be an unassailable lead and ran out 3-1 winners. All this was put into the shade by the racist abuse hurled at Hislop in the Reading goal although this aspect of the Lyndhurst proved to have a happy ending later in the season when Burnley winger John Francis turned to them and literally aped their behaviour as he gave an inspired performance for the Clarets which saw the home team knocked out of the play offs.
At half time a line of police dog handlers emerged to stand between the home and away fans. I asked Richard, who occasionally attended Plymouth home games what was happening and he replied knowingly "you'll see". As the second half kicked off the Lyndhurst did the same, making a concerted attempt to break through the police line to get to the Reading fans. Only one made it, a man mountain who charged towards the away end which was protected by the usual massive fence. As he came closer it was clear that he wasn't going to stop, almost as if he expected the fence to disappear. Fortunately his magic powers deserted him and he crashed straight into the barrier, falling into arms of the waiting constabulary. It always makes me smile when I see them struggling at the bottom of the Football League, now far and away the biggest English city that has not hosted top flight football.
I soon saw Reading  get back on track, returning to the top of the table with an accomplished win at Hull in the sun courtesy of a classic Quinn double. Before kick off I met John Madejski for the one and only time as he wandered along the away terrace, exchanging plesantries and thanking us for making the trip, which was long enough even from Lancashire. This win came in the midst of a mini slump which saw Reading slip to second for the only time in the latter half of the season. Reading's dominance could not be shaken even by a defeat courtesy of a missed penalty by Quinn at York at the end of March on a Tuesday night when I took advantage of the late train home for the final time. Easter brought an accomplished win over Bristol Rovers, Quinn redeeming himself with a superb turn and strike to open the scoring in a 2-0 victory, and three points at Barnet on a freezing evening when Hislop had so little to do it was rumored that he almost caught hypothermia. The sight of the finishing line brought with it nervy draws at home to struggling Cardiff and Rotherham to set up a thrilling end to the season. Firmly believing it would go down to the wire I bought my ticket for the final game of the season at Bournemouth securing a promise of accommodation with Mark in Portsmouth, appropriate seeing as we had been to so many games together over the past five years.
Reading remained seven points clear at the top of the table but fourth placed Stockport could cut the distance to a point if they won their three games in hand. The clubs would meet at Edgeley Park but on my return up north for my final term at university, worries about this clash were allayed by a storming 4-0 defeat of Blackpool at Bloomfield Road. Saluting and receiving appreciation from all parts of the ground at the final whistle this was the moment when in my eyes the team won the title. Full of confidence we waved them off safe in the knowledge that they were in top form for the game at County the following Thursday.
The tiny Cheshire ground felt jam packed as I made my way onto the flattish away end with for the first time two companions from university. It turned out I had being living round the corner from a girl from Reading for two years and she knew another student who was a Readingensian. I had met my first Reading glory hunters of the new era. As we made the journey south she regaled us with tales of sexual favours given to Archie Lovell so it was good to know she had done her bit for team morale.
The game itself was predictably, constantly being aimed goalwards at County's six foot seven striker Kevin "Twiglet" Francis, the tallest player in the football league. Despite much pressure at times, Reading more than held their own with who else but Gooding scoring to earn a point and put the title within reach.
Just two days later Reading claimed the championship with a 2-0 win over Brighton. I was sat at home in Preston when the result came through but Mark did his bit, invading the pitch at the end and being the first to congratulate Ady Williams. This left what would now be a promotion party at Bournemouth, an evening of celebration where the result meant nothing. Reading fans took over the ground, not only was the away end full but the covered terrace along the side was also given over to Royals supporters in what was dubbed the glory hunters section, with us hardcore early adopters stood in the rain behind the goal. The Cherries ran out deserved 2-1 winners although Reading did equalise when a Gilkes cross was tapped in at the far post by a fan who jumped onto the pitch to score in one of those trompe l'oeil moments. Still the final whistle gave me the opportunity for a pitch invasion, with the Hampshire constabulary soon giving up any hope of keeping back the crowds to allow us to conquer Dean Court.
On my return north two days later I stopped off at Reading dropped my overnight bag in left luggage and popped off to Elm Park for one final time. The occasion was a friendly against Genoa, arranged so that Reading fans had an opportunity to see the championship trophy handed over to club captain Keith McPherson, and salute their heroes one last time. The match took place in driving rain with the Italians winning 4-1 as McGhee took the opportunity to give all the playing staff and even himself the chance to have a run out and accept the cheers of the crowd. For once watching the game on my own it was a time for contemplation. Like my degree course, McGhee's graduation from Division Three had taken three seasons and had been worth every minute. Adding the trials and tribulations under Branfoot and Porterfield since relegation in 1988, not to mention the financial strife off the pitch, it was a remarkable achievement both in its scale and manner. Surely it couldn't get any better than this?

The Elm Park Years Part 6: It was 2.45, the place was alive

A new regime in any walk of life will go through three stages to try and create success: firstly they'll stabilise and assess the situation, secondly they'll implement change, and finally they'll see the consequences. Personally the second stage is the most exciting as you begin to see the potential of what might happen, commonly as part of a small group of people who are first to witness this. This is as true of football as any other organisation and the Madejski/McGhee revolution at Reading in the early 90s neatly fitted this model into three seasons.  1991/92 whilst not quite a relegation battle had seen the Royals remain in the bottom half of division three until they sneaked into the top half right at the death to finish twelfth. Having done this against a background of financial austerity, McGhee was given the opportunity to start to build his team and reduce his reliance on loan signings.

A significant part of the wage bill was freed up with the departure of Trevor Senior Linden Jones, Craig Maskell, Danny Bailey, Floyd Streete and David Leworthy allowing McGhee to make what in hindsight was an amazing quartet of signings in Tom Jones, Jimmy Quinn, Phil Parkinson and Jeff Hopkins. They would be donning a new shirt as the club reverted to a classic strip of simple blue and white hoops so not only would they play like a half decent team they would look like one too. For me this was a perfect set up as I prepared to start my second year at university (rather like the Football League Polytechnics had been upgraded over the summer in the same way Reading were now in Division Two thanks to the start of the Premier League), planning my away trips alongside visits to friends now studying across the country, pausing from reading historical documents to note down the essential travel information from the library's edition of the current British Rail timetable.

Before I paint too rosy a picture of this season though, Reading rather flattered to deceive in the opening month, having to wait six games for the first win of the season when Jimmy Quinn introduced himself to the Elm Park crowd with a brace of goals in a 3-1 win over Rotherham United. 

The previous home game against Hull City had seen the club unveil its new marketing strategy directed by Madejski placeman Kevin Girdler. Girdler had  recorded a pleasingly cheesy "Royal Anthem" full of tacky studio stylings and la, la, las. The track was a welcome addition to the pre match entertainment unlike one innovation which lasted just one game. For the visit of the Tigers a warm up man who seemed to have walked straight off the set of The Comedians, scuttled round the pitch shouting "wahey" into a microphone in between making a dire attempt at banter with the Hull players warming up which reached its nadir when he approached their Northern Irish goalkeeper and asked "Fettis, that sounds like something you give birth to". Needless to say Hull went onto win a contentious game thanks in no small part to the return of referee Clive Wilkes almost exactly twelve months since he was last the object of the crowds' ire.

Shrugging off this failure the Elm Park marketing team were provided with an open goal when McGhee plucked goalkeeper Shaka Hislop from American college football. Clearly marked as a successor to the long serving Steve Francis, Hislop was given an early opportunity to impress in a League Cup trip to Watford. Reading had received a rare bye in the first round thanks to the demise of Maidstone United, a bizarre attempt to keep the club alive by moving it to the North East coming to nought. Hislop had already played three league games to inspire a "Shaka can" marketing campaign on local radio, and the visit to Vicarage Road was the night he proved to me he could potentially be a better option than Francis who with the departure of Jones had stepped into the void to fill my favourite player vacancy.

Having wandered around the allotments in the pouring rain we were rewarded with the cover of the Rookery End with unusually the away fans being given rather better treatment the home supporters who had to stand in the wet. Jimmy Quinn and Ady Williams ensured the Royals were equal to two Paul Furlong goals but it was Hislop who was the hero of the evening running back up the tunnel after the final whistle to acknowledge the chant of "Shaka, Shaka" which was interspersed with "you're getting wet, we're not" as we awaited the decision of the police to release us from captivity.

The following Saturday a first ever trip to Brighton's oddly appointed Goldstone Ground saw a great strike from Stuart Lovell win the game with the only goal to make it nine points from nine and reassure me that my impending return to Lancashire would be made in the knowledge that Reading were poised to make that crucial transition from lower mid table team to upper mid table team.

Initially though my away trips to stand with the raggle taggle band of Royals that went to games north of Birmingham saw little change from the previous season. In October I saw a dull goalless draw at Leeds Road, and then having for the first time walked to a Reading game, saw the Royals slump to a 2-0 defeat at a moribund Preston North End. 

Things began to perk up in November with my first visit to what would become a firm favourite ground, Turf Moor. Full of stories about a staunchly loyal club boasting over 8,000 season ticket holders, I loved the trip into deepest East Lancashire, with an approach to the ground which was still recognisable to that lifted directly into an inter war novel by JB Priestley. A rare McGhee appearance saw the manager score the goal which earned his team a hard fought 1-1 draw watched by myself and very few others on the away section of the expansive terrace which still ran the length of the pitch.

A trip back home was timed to coincide with Reading's first ever live broadcast from Elm Park as the TV cameras arrived on an autumn Sunday to watch Jimmy Quinn knock Birmingham City out of the FA Cup (the Blues had been promoted into Division Two the previous season but by dint of being runners up had the rare bad luck to be forced to continue in the first round due to restructuring) in front of a bumper crowd approaching 8,000 with the locals bucking the trend to be attracted by watching a televised game in person.

December saw a first ever visit to Chester City's new Deva stadium, a tortuously long walk from the station. Fortunately I had now found a fellow Royal called Mark studying in Manchester to share travelling and matchday drinking with. There was no shortage of energy for our return journey as we were enthused by a 3-0 win with Liverpool manager Graeme Souness reported to be in attendance to watch young Reading starlet James Lambert. 

These three points were much welcomed as the Royals continued to struggle for consistency with league form happily masked by another FA Cup run. As with the previous season, Reading had to travel to the north west for the third round and with the destination being Maine Road, once again I was heading back up the M6 midway through the Christmas holiday. This time there was quite the flotilla of cars sporting Reading colours travelling to Manchester, and once we had negotiated the Coronation Street style surroundings to reach the ground, the big away following was rewarded with a Scott Taylor goal to give Reading the half time lead. City equalised through Mike Sheron to take the game to a replay but Reading had more than held their own against the Premier League side which augured well for the rest of the season.

Inevitably the following week I saw Reading end up on the wrong side of a 3-2 result at Millmoor, Rotherham's goalkeeper Billy Mercer putting in a great shift on a day most memorable for sitting in a pub post match watching the last unified darts world championship reciting great lines from Sid Waddell's repertoire. That this proved to be the last time I saw Reading lose this season, reflected an improvement in form which almost led to a play off place which would have come a little too soon, a final placing of eighth being a realistic indicator of the side's improvement.

With alcohol becoming a increasingly important part of the match day experience highlights were a last trip to Springfield Park and first trips to Boothferry Park and Bloomfield Road, with visits to Elm Park punctuated by stops at The Butler and/or The Rose and Thistle.

By the time Ossie Ardiles brought his West Bromwich Albion team to Elm Park in late April, league crowds were beginning to return to their Branfoot era level, Phil Parkinson's goal holding the promotion via play off bound Baggies to a draw. The season finished a little too early for the Royals to break into the play off pack but perhaps this was just as well that McGhee could keep his powder dry. For me the West Brom game was the perfect time to take my leave from the 1992/93 season, a campaign full of hope and potential, watching Quinn swiftly remove any apprehension about who would fill Senior's scoring boots whilst Parky established himself as the driving force in midfield, allowing utility man Mick Gooding to fill in with his usual professionalism wherever was required. The squad had developed to the point where Hopkins and Jones could quietly slot in alongside the likes of Williams, McPherson, Dillon, Gilkes, Taylor and Lovell as it became clear that the following close season would lead to newcomers being seen as the missing part of the jigsaw rather than plugging a gap. For once it was time to look forward with hope to the start of the new season.

The Elm Park Years Part 5: Royal Exile

With Madejski and McGhee now in post, 1991/92 promised to be a season of change for the Royals. This was true for me too as I moved up north to study at what was then called Lancashire Polytechnic. With regard to football this turned out to be a happy accident as Preston North End were on hand to continue to keep me up to up to date with Division Three with the historic development of the Football League meaning Reading would have an away game within fair distance at least once a month.

Before I hit the north though, I had the opening six weeks of the season to look forward to down south, which was enough time for Madejski and McGhee to set down some markers for the future. It was clear that there was to be no money to build a squad with Managing Director Mike Lewis explaining that the club had lost over £18,000 a week across the 1990/91 season. Naturally it would be hard to attract support back to the club with little prospect of investment and crowds hovered around the 2-3000 mark for most of the season. Instead it was down to McGhee to use his contacts within the game to bring in some of his former team mates starting with Kevin Dillon and Neale Cooper. These were the only newcomers in a close season which saw record appearance maker Martin Hicks, and record signing Steve Moran depart, with Dillon only being given a month's trial intially.
Another change saw Reading join the ranks of clubs sporting one of the awful strips which were prevalent in the lower divisions at this time thanks to kit manufacturers Matchwinner. At home it was TV interference (shared with Dundee) whilst away it was the Red Arrows (same as Bournemouth) both of which added to the atmosphere of a club on its uppers.
Certainly it was to be no fairy tale start for McGhee as the season started with four defeats, which at leasted signalled the end of David Leworthy's Reading career. Thus the visit of Bury saw McGhee pick himself to replace Leworthy, scoring at the death to give Reading a win by the odd goal in five. This game also saw the debut of one of many successful loan signings, winger David Byrne from Watford.
The win was enough for six of us to squeeze into Mark's car for the midweek trip to see the Red Arrows play at Swansea City. Our trips to the see the Royals had seen us team up with a group of peers from Twyford and Wargrave and you can imagine our dismay when what we thought was a short trip over the bridge, saw us greeted by a sign telling us it was another 70 miles to the Vetch Field as we crossed the Severn.Still a uncomfortable journey was made worthwhile as we strained our eyes from the cavernous away end to see Byrne and Trevor Senior turn the game around after the Swans had opened the scoring with only eighteen minutes to go.
The unbeaten run continued when eventual runners up Birmingham City were held 1-1 in front of Elm Park's biggest crowd of the season, with Hicks playing at the back for the Blues. Next up was another unpleasant afternoon at Brentford with Reading fans squeezed into one corner of the ground with the old away end standing empty, closed due for safety reasons. Of course the Met weren't shy in throwing their weight around. One of them pushed me down the steps in the middle of the terrace only for karma to apply itself as I saw a helmet sail over my head when I reached the bottom. Needless to say the game ended in defeat thanks to a late winner from substitute Richard Cadette.The bitter mood continued as I bid farewell to Elm Park watching a stormy defeat against Bradford with referee Clive Wilkes the star of the show, the game ending in farcical circumstances, when with all substitutes used, an injured Floyd Streete hobbled along the touch line.
Despite defeats outnumbering wins, the early signs of the McGhee reign were promising, with the team beginning to recover the resilience shown in the best phase of the Porterfield era although it was probably for the best that I was only going to be dipping into the steady revival of the Royals for the foreseeable future.
This started a little earlier than expected as Reading had an away trip at Wigan on the Friday night of my first week in Granadaland. The short trip down the West coast mainline from Preston to the home of Uncle Joe's mint balls was a bit of an eye opener. Sadly the chippy opposite Springfield Park had run out of their 20p portions, so I wandered over to the turnstile which I was invited to jump over by the fraudulent operator. This was only in exchange for the correct admission so I declined, to at least give the tiny official crowd (1,817) a semblance of authenticity. The raggle taggle travelling fans were sparse on the terrace at the front of the away end which had a big grass bank behind it, upon which stood one fan mounting a lone protest against the police, brandishing a picture of Harry Roberts. A dire match ensued with Reading going behind, before they salvaged a point with a last minute goal from another short term signing Allan Cockram.
With defeats now being turned into draws, Reading were four games unbeaten by the time they returned to the North West to play Bolton Wanderers. Another short trip down the line was a followed by a walk to the ground lined by pubs refusing admission to away fans, interspersed with graffiti warning of dire consequences for anyone who met the Bolton Cuckoos.All this was capped by an away end shared with the Normid supermarket which obscured the view of a large part of the pitch, not that there was much to miss in a 1-1 draw thanks to Tony Philliskirk-Pen.
The run grew to one defeat in seven (or one win depending on your point of view) when I went further afield to Macclesfield who then hosted Chester City. The week before draw fever had extended to the FA Cup when Reading had somehow managed to squander a 3-1 lead at Slough in the time it took me to walk home from the Launderette. At Moss Rose, four goals were shared with the most noticeable incident being a complete overreaction from the constabulary to a half time play fight in the away end.
By the time I returned home for Christmas draws were starting to become wins, thanks in no small part the arrival on loan of Jim Leighton to cover for the injured Steve Francis. Leighton had become a forgotten man at Manchester United after being ruthlessly dropped by Alex Ferguson after the drawn 1990 FA Cup final against Crystal Palace, Les Sealey replacing him for the replay.
Leighton, along with McGhee and Cooper had been part of Ferguson's legendary Aberdeen team which beat Real Madrid in the 1983 European Cup Winner's Cup Final, and the Scottish keeper grabbed the opportunity given by his former team mate to reboot his career with a string of fine performances which secured him a move back north of the border to Dundee and eventually a return to the national team.
Leighton was outstanding in Reading's finest victory of the season, a 1-0 win at Elm Park in the New Year over Huddersfield Town, who would go on to finish third. Also in the team that day was fellow Scot Steve Archibald, who made just the one appearance for Reading but remained every inch a style icon, holding onto the cuffs of his long sleeved shirt, playing alongside Senior, whose winning goal was his 200th of his Elm Park career.
This was Reading's fourth consecutive league win, as they inched their way up into the mid table. In between I had a made a day trip back to Bolton for an FA Cup third round tie at Burnden Park. Our transport was a transit van and another uncomfortable journey with space only available in the back, with the driver/navigator seats having already been claimed. Needless to say the day did not get better with Philliskirk-Pen scoring both goals in an edgy 2-0 win for the Trotters.
Back at college the first trip was to the Victoria Ground, Stoke and another wasted journey as the Potters were gifted a 3-0 win by zealous referee Brian Coddington who sent off two Reading players early in the game to leave munchkin Linden Jones as the central defensive lynchpin. Despite the home win as I left the ground I was offered a lift back to the railway station in a police van "for my own safety" so god only knows what would have happened the previous season when Reading won when I had fortunately travelled on  the supporters coach.
A quick visit south during reading week, gave me a first look at the best of a string of decent loan signings, David Lee from Chelsea.He averaged a goal a game during his five match stay. Unfortunately this did not include a Tuesday night trip to Stockport but he more than made up for it by scoring in the 2-1 win at Leeds Road to complete the double over Huddersfield, where in the chippy next to this ground I discovered what scraps were.
With Ady Williams now playing in a short lived experiment to turn him into a striker due to an injury to Senior, McGhee continued to show the ingenuity to attempt to turn Reading's sow's ear into a silk purse.As Spring drew on the squad was stretched to its absolute limit, and results started to decline, but there were enough points in the bank to avoid a descent into a relegation battle. This meant a trip to the Hawthorns could be enjoyed as much for the Baggies reaching something of a nadir under manager Bobby Gould, despite a comfortable 2-0 win for West Brom, watched from the back of the away stand by the injured Senior, whose presence soon became the highlight of the day.
A 6-1 win at Easter over a doomed Torquay United team featuring the now tragic figure of Justin Fashanu maintained a points buffer above the relegation zone, with three wins in the final four games leading to a final placing of twelfth which did something to justify McGhee's oft repeated belief that his team were better than their bottom half position suggested.
So the first year of my Royal exile proved to be one of much needed stability with a side run on a shoestring budget showing resilience, a little flair and the odd touch of glamour due to McGhee's contacts book. The side was still very much in transition with none of the latest crop of youngsters being able to follow Williams and Scott Taylor into the first team, but alongside these two the core of a decent eleven was emerging with the likes of Michael Gilkes, Mick Gooding, Keith McPherson, Stuart Lovell and the classy Dillon.

The Elm Park Years Part 4: Where's Our Eddie Gone Then?

"Where's Our Eddie Gone Then?" was the question fired by one of the more aggressive looking Reading fans at John Madejski, as the Chairman ventured in to the away end at Brisbane Road on the penultimate  sunny Saturday of the season. The Eddie referred to was Welshman Niedzwiecki, placed in charge of the Royals after Ian Porterfield was sacked, with the assistant now joining his former boss in the dole queue. The new man in charge, but not the final change of the season, was physiotherapist John "healing hands" Haselden. Madejski himself was the second Chairman of the season but had rather a longer stint in post than the loyal Haselden who reverted back to his physio role the following Saturday under new manager Mark McGhee in a chaotic end to a tumultuous season which remains something of a nadir in the modern history of Reading Football Club. A low point from which, barring the odd stumble, everything improved exponentially to the point of selling out a shiny new all seater stadium on a regular basis in the Premier League.

This end to the season didn't bear thinking about on the similarly sunny Saturday on which the season began, way down in Devon at St. James Park where Reading confirmed early season optimism about promotion by systematically taking apart 1990 Division Four Champions Exeter City 3-1, the Grecians first defeat at home in over a year. Standing on the distinctly non league terrace which masqueraded as the away end we saluted the team and in particular the scorers of the three goals the triple strike force of Trevor Senior, Craig Maskell and Steve Moran before getting back on the coach to avoid the attentions of the locals who wanted to fervently discuss the outcome of the game. 

Porterfield had bet the farm on Maskell, a striker prolific in the previous two seasons at Huddersfield in Division Three, a classy ball playing forward that any supporter would want to watch. The problem was the squad was already congested with attackers, the always reliable Trevor Senior playing alongside a number of partners who all remained at Elm Park over the summer, with no form to attract other clubs. Presumably Moran would have also been on a contract as big as his waistband hence his presence in the line up on the opening day. David Leworthy was a permanent bench fixture, George Friel was one for the future and at least Michael Gilkes' pace could be devastating anywhere on the left hand side. Porterfield attempted to convert the hard working Mike Conroy into a midfielder, but the Scotsman's application lacked the finesse to augment Mick Gooding's dynamism in the centre, and with hindsight this is where the investment should have been following the summer departure of Stuart Beavon and Mick Tait. This would have complemented the neat bit of business in defence which saw Darren Wood swapped for Keith "Tom's Diner" McPherson who fortunately exceeded expectations as the other defender brought in was the frequently injured "Oops Up" Floyd Streete.

Still the feeling of bliss to be in the heaven of an season opening day tour de force persisted until the middle of October when the Royals held third spot after drawing at home to Birmingham City following an exciting midweek win at Elm Park over Bournemouth. League games with the Cherries were the closest the Royals had to a local derby at this time and it was Reading's turn to claim the bragging rights in a somewhat fortunate fashion when goalkeeper Peter Guthrie let a Maskell shot through his legs to complete the comeback from a 1-0 half time deficit before second choice Reading goalkeeper Phil Burns sealed the points with a world class save to stop Efan Ekoku snatching a point.
This play off placing proved to be a temporary one as the next four games were all lost but promotion hopes were kept alive by a 1-0 at Stoke in November. This was my first trip to the Victoria Ground and last one on the supporters coach. Standing in the abysmal fenced away end which at the front was below pitch level, we just about saw Moran give Reading a very early lead and then saw the Royals heroically hold on for the rest of the game to win the Football League performance of the week. This proved to be another false dawn though as form continued to slump up to Christmas.
However if the league form suffered, the Cup matches were a complete write off and I saw every minute of each of the five knockout defeats. Earlier in the season Reading had lost both legs of their first round tie against deadly local rivals Oxford United, whose top boys contribution to the atmosphere at Elm Park was to vigorously rattle the gates at the front of the away end.
Hopes that another great FA Cup run was in prospect were raised when Reading were drawn away to Colchester United, the Us then battling for promotion at the top of the Conference. This proved to be a great day out spoilt by ninety minutes of football. Travelling up by train from Liverpool Street, we joined the Reading fans wholly occupying one carriage and marshaled by one supporter with an Ed the Duck glove puppet. Welcomed by the local constabulary on our arrival in Essex we made the long walk to Layer Road to the dire covered away end consisting of wooden terraces. Everything was going to plan at half time thanks to a Martin Hicks goal, but the Col U came back to create a cup upset and leave us with an uneasy walk back to the station with the locals eager to engage us in conversation about the result.
Any chance that the Leyland Daf Cup would provide any joy were quickly crushed in an embarrassing 3-1 defeat at soon to be defunct Aldershot where once again the locals were keen to start a post mortem asking me if I was part of the "Reading scum". Needless to say the final group game ended in a 4-1 defeat to promotion chasing Southend at Elm Park, the Shrimpers second win at Elm Park in a fortnight. In the league they had thoroughly exposed Reading's shortcomings by going 4-0 up. At this point we decided to de camp to the Tilehurst End where we saw Reading score two consolation goals, the second giving Dave the opportunity to be captured for posterity on TVS by giving the finger to the United goalkeeper.The only bright spot on the horizon was the continuing development of young talent such as Ady Williams and Scott Taylor with Stuart "Archie" Lovell announcing his arrival with the only goal of the game on his debut at home to Fulham.
By now Mark had passed his driving test to signal a change to our trips to Elm Park. Although the long walk down the Oxford Road had stopped when we discovered our train tickets were valid to Reading West, and the 17 bus could get us back to the station in time for the 17.08 train back to Maidenhead, Mark's mum's spacious saloon car made the journey even easier, with the only problem trying to find a parking space somewhere between the Bath Road and the Tilehurst Road which didn't infringe resident parking restrictions.
This meant the lack of public transport on Boxing Day wasn't a barrier to getting to the game at Elm Park although very few bothered on a horribly wet and windy day in a crowd of just over 3,000. Grimsby were the unseasonal visitors for a match that started a run to raise hopes that the second half of the season would be better than the first. Mick Gooding scored both goals in a 2-0 but it was his new midfield partner Danny Bailey who sparked a five game winning streak. Bailey a man as wide as he was tall stomped around the midfield daring anyone to come near him and became the source of endless conversations starting who would win  in a fight between Bailey and Vinnie Jones, Mike Tyson, a sabre toothed tiger etc.
Mansfield were up next at Elm Park with my main man Linden Jones forcing a last minute winner over the line. Maskell scored the only goal of the game then got sent off in the return fixture against Exeter and by the time Wigan were comfortably beaten at Elm Park at the end of January the Royals stood on the brink of the play offs once more. Confirmation that they were serious promotion contenders then followed on a midweek trip to Southend. Everything looked lost at half time at Roots Hall, with the home team one goal up thanks to Ian Benjamin. Worst was to come after the break when Gilkes was stretchered off with a broken leg but Reading rediscovered their resilience of the previous season with goals from Moran and Bailey winning the game, the latter climbing the fence at the away end to receive the acclaim of us travelling faithful.
This upturn in form coincided with a change of ownership. In the autumn former Chairman Roger Smee had revealed that weekly losses were running into five figures which he was unable to subsidise. Just when it seemed Reading might be on track to follow local rivals Oxford and Aldershot into financial oblivion a local businessman stepped forward to take up the challenge of getting the club back on its feet. Despite a professed lack of interest in football John Madejski was man cast in the better aspects of Victorian civic philanthropy. Founder of the publishing empire which produced Auto Trader, Madejski was one of the country's richest men and perhaps because of his antipathy towards the beautiful game, unlike many a new football club owner, he managed to hold on to the sound business principles which had made him so successful, seeing the virtue of parsimony (which reportedly led to the break down in his relationship with Porterfield) and being ready to play the long game. He also had the nous to show a genuine interest in the concerns of supporters in stark contrast to the previous regime which led to his pioneering terrace walkabout at Brisbane Road.
The Orient match came almost at the end of a nineteen game run which included just three wins and four draws. Porterfield had tried to plug the gaps in the team with loan signings, some of whom (Mark Smith and Steve Morrow) were more successful than others (Garry Brooke, Matthew Edwards and Brian Statham), all of which contributed to an ever growing sense of desperation which ultimately saw home crowds plunge below the 2,000 mark.
Still hope sprung eternal after the Southend win, with another good point on the road at Fulham spoiled by the over zealous Met police who decided to stop the half time lets all have a disco bundle by ejecting the only non white Royal involved, leaving us to return to making fun of Bjorn Borg the groundsman. A trip to the Cottage always gave rise to the feeling of faded glamour as a celebrity was taken onto the pitch by Diddy David Hamilton to make the half time prize draw. To show that sublebrity is not a new phenemon I can remember Oxo Dad Michael Redfearn and Duffy from Casualty being wheeled out in consecutive visits in the early nineties.
Serious promotion hopes hinged on a midweek trip to fellow play off hopefuls Bournemouth in mid March. After analysing the league table all day at school, Mark made the snap decision to borrow his mum's car at 5 pm and we got to Dean Court just in time for kick off which was all to no avail as the Cherries won comfortably 2-0 under the horror show management duo of Harry Redknapp and Tony Pulis. This result hit me so hard I had to bunk off school the next day to recover but a win the following Saturday over Rotherham at Elm Park saw me and Mark take the train up to the midlands seven days later to stand at the top of the steepling away terrace at St Andrews. Welsh wonder Jones repaid our loyalty by scoring in a 1-1 draw to leave us to walk back in silence to New Street in the middle of several thousand Blues.
Two points out of the next eighteen though spelled the end for Porterfield a decision which at the time upset me although as I type these words two decades later seems evidently sensible. I never lost my trust in a manager for whom the Reading spell must have been a low point in a fairly admirable career on and off the pitch. Stories emerged that he was sacked as a result of unprofessional conduct in terms of transfer dealing and a drink driving charge which seemed to point to opportunism on the part of the club to get rid of an employee on a sizeable salary. A more obvious reason for dismissal due to performances on the pitch would of course necessitated paying up his contract.Still us vocal South Bank right siders were placated by "our" Eddie being placed in temporary charge.
Niedzwiecki was backed to the hilt by us loyal Royals in a tumultuous end of season trip to Griffin Park. Whilst the Met found it necessary to search my turn ups before allowing me entry they missed someone else in the away end bringing in a smoke game which was let off in the first half. The atmosphere grew more febrile as the game which remained goalless moved into injury time. Brentford then scored and Reading were reduced to ten men following a bad tackle by Statham at the far end. The usual melee on the pitch followed whilst Brentford keeper Graham Benstead turned round to inform us of the score, prompting one fan to jump on the pitch to seek more details, meanwhile Eddie tried to do likewise with the referee but was led away by a policeman. The final whistle sounded soon after signalling the end of any Reading fight on or off the pitch.
Seven days later a supine team looked after by Haselden were thrashed by Orient and although new manager Mark McGhee's first home game a week later ended in another 1-0 win over Stoke, the naughty 40 invaded the South Bank at the end of the game and we all ran away never to be seen again for another three months. Things could only get better.

My memorabilia from this season can be found here: http://www.tumblr.com/blog/elmparkyears