The Elm Park Years Part 9: So Long Its Been Good To Know You

After the party comes the hangover. Following two years of pretty much non stop league success, the play off final defeat at Wembley brought the Reading juggernaut to a shuddering stop. Pretty soon the two stand out players in the team, Shaka Hislop and Simon Osborn were off to the Premier League anyway courtesy of record breaking seven figure deals with Newcastle and QPR respectively, whilst Scott Taylor had joined Mark McGhee at Leicester. Expectations remained high when they were replaced by Bobby Mihaylov and Michael Meaker, with Trevor Morley also added to the squad. Unfortunately Quinn and Gooding lacked McGhee's magic touch in the transfer market, the two English signings lacking the quality of their predecessors. Bulgarian Mihaylov brought with him the pedigree of a 1994 World Cup semi-finalist but never settled at Elm Park. He mythically signed for the Royals after watching the play off final believing it to be played at Reading's home ground, if this was the case the realisation of what he had done must have been as shocking as his infamous wig, and the goalkeeper position became a real problem for Reading for years to come.

Off the pitch the club was faced with the reality of a ground ill suited to a tilt at promotion to the Premier League and essentially spent the next three seasons marking time until the new stadium was opened. Quinn and Gooding just about kept the club up, helped by support which unlike the previous spell in Division Two, did not waver when results took a downturn. The town was ready at last to back the football club, as shown by the way crowds increased when Reading started life in their new ground in a lower division, therefore this period was another step, (if a small one) to a sold out all seater stadium in the Premier League.

It was a period though that I would watch from a distance, the very inoffensive nature of the club that had drawn me to it in the late 80s being the factor that made it easy to breakaway. I had followed the Royals like a favoured indie band in their development in the back rooms of pubs, Reading had broken past that difficult second album stage and were now firmly established with a solid fanbase, but I was only interested in old B sides.

Nevertheless Elm Park still made for a good and convenient trip to the match and I enjoyed popping back now and again until its gates were locked shut for the final time. Away trips were equally as worthwhile, if increasingly expensive and looking back this period presents a fascinating snapshot of a sport in transition as the Premier League closed its death grip on the national game.

Post Wembley optimisim was maintained with with my fourth and final visit to the Victoria Ground Stoke on the opening day of the 1995/96 season which ended in a 1-1 draw. In November a first ever trip to Selhurst Park was made unforgettable by an obvious adaptation of the recently revived hit by Smokie "who the fuck is (pal)ice", which was sung with evermore gusto from the Arthur Waite stand as Nogan and Lovell recovered their form of the previous season to score a goal apiece in a 2-0 win. At the end of the month a goalless draw at Bramall Lane was only notable for wandering into a pub full of Blades fans next to the ground who as always confounded popular perceptions of football fans by ignoring us as we downed a pre match pint.

With Reading just about fighting off relegation the highlights at Elm Park were confined to Cup competitions, particularly the League Cup. An third round tie against Bury was abandoned after 28 minutes with Reading 2-0 down, following a torrential downpour, a single groundsman failing to beat the odds when he emerged with a fork after the players had been taken off. Naturally Reading won the replayed game to set up a derby against Southampton.

A packed Elm Park roared Reading onto a 2-1 win which was comfortable enough for the South Bank to trial a new song inspired by the Outhere Brothers when new signing Steve "Boom Boom Boom let me hear Swales" Swales came on as a late substitute. This win also revealed the pre eminence of football in the media when the following morning's Radio Five Live breakfast show featured an interview with Gooding. This win set up a quarter final trip to Elland Road in January, Reading not perturbed by the ongoing goalkeeping crisis which led to Eric Nixon playing his one and only game against Leeds. After going behind early on Jimmy Quinn rolled back the years to equalise with a terrific strike from distance only for Lucas Radebe to seal the win by half time for Wembley bound Leeds. Travelling back to our billet in Manchester we had the odd experience of a middle aged gentleman in suit with briefcase trembling as we staggered onto the last train over the Pennines, only to sigh with relief when it became clear we were fellow Reading fans.

The FA Cup inevitably brought the Match of the Day cameras to Elm Park for the visit of Manchester United in the fourth round, a tie which rather exposed the Reading ticket office's limitations when they issued a paper voucher to be exchanged for tickets. Much acrimony ensued when someone realised they could be photocopied convincingly but any Reds taking advantage were given sort shrift standing on the far right side of the South Bank when they celebrated United's opening goal. That season's double winners went onto win 3-0 in a breathtaking display of pace and movement with Eric Cantona in his pomp. Comfortably the best team I ever saw at Elm Park.

The following summer more of the promotion squad left, Welsh international Ady Williams joined McGhee at Wolves whilst Dylan Kerr moved on, sadly unable to recapture the form and fitness that made him the championship winning team's player of the year. Steps were taken to shore up the defence. Northern Irish international Tommy Wright for a time stopped the revolving door that was th number one shirt with countryman Barry Hunter taking Williams' captain's armband and central defensive berth, supported on the flanks by Martyn Booty and Paul Bodin. Further up the pitch Darren Caskey proved to be another midfield addition who did not live up to his price tag, but initial signs from fellow signing Martin Williams were good.

Williams scored the stand out goal in a 2-0 win over Oxford United, in a game broadcast live by ITV. The goal went onto feature on the opening titles for Football League Extra for some time, the programme at last providing a chance to see all the goals outside the Premier League, if you could remember to set the video for its small hours screening. Presumably the Oxford game was chosen because it was a local derby. Reading had lost a first ever cup tie to new local League neighbours Wycombe Wanderers in the previous midweek but had no problem beating the Us, a group of whose fans laughably tried to liven up the derby by viciously shaking the fence at the nearest corner of the away end to the South Bank. One of their number then found out the problem of having strikingly ginger hair, as I saw him picked out and arrested in a local side street as we traipsed back into town after the game.

With no Cup distraction Reading maintained their 1996 final placing of 18th with a little more breathing space between the relegation zone. Indeed the Royals slipped into the relegation places just once after my first visit to Huddersfield's new McAlpine stadium on a boozy day in September which ended up in the Golcar branch of the British Legion.

Boxing Day allowed me to introduce my sister's Kiwi fiancee Mark to the delights of Elm Park. He was treated to a rip roaring 2-2 draw although his New World innocence was denuded by his shock at the stick doled out to Albion striker and husband of Karen Brady Paul Peschisolido, Mark's verdict on the game being "I couldn't believe what they were saying about his wife"!

The season was summed up by an abortive trip to Loftus Road, the game postponed due to an almighty thunder storm which hit West London during the short tube ride to Shepherd's Bush from Paddington. Having arrived at the ground before the news was confirmed we ended up wandering around the White City estate looking for the Central Line station, like Reading we found our way to safety eventually but it wasn't much of an experience.

By the time I returned to Elm Park in September the promotion squad had all but disintegrated. Michael Gilkes, the last remaining player from the first match I had seen at Elm Park a decade ago had followed Williams to Wolves. Only Keith McPherson, Stuart Lovell and Phil Parkinson remained as in the summer Quinn and Gooding had been relieved of their managerial duties.

With the move to the new stadium confirmed for a year hence, it was an ideal time for a new manager to come in and rebuild. Personally I thought Terry Bullivant was a sound choice. He had had a good grounding at Barnet and brought in some useful additions to the squad in the form of Ray Houghton, Linvoy Primus and Carl Asaba, but the general response was negative with much being made of his alternative career as a taxi driver. The abject failure of his successor Tommy Burns who had a much bigger profile perhaps would have been avoided by Bullivant with his intimate knowledge of the English lower divisions. Maybe I had a jaundiced view due to the few games I saw in this final season at Elm Park as by now I had moved up to London. In particular I enjoyed first and fruitful visits to Fratton Park and the Brittania stadium but the highlight was one last terrace shaking match at Elm Park.

The visit of Nottingham Forest was picked for a live game at the end of October. Forest still retained the high achieving ambition of the Clough era and would end the season as champions. With a team full of established Premier League players, Dave Bassett's team were 1-0 up at the break and even Steve Stone's inept miss at the Tilehurst End meant little to a side boasting a forward line of Pierre Van Hooijdonk and Kevin Campbell.

Forest doubled their lead with Van Hooijdonk's second goal just after half time  but the game turned on a penalty incident soon after when Dave Beasant brought down Martin Williams. The referee showed the red card to Beasant and the ground came alive as Lurch initially refused to leave the pitch.Williams converted the penalty and although Forest restored their two goal advantage through Campbell, Reading, roared on by a twelve and a half thousand crowd tore into the ten men with relish. For once James Lambert gave a glimpse of his previously much touted potential to dance through the Forest defence to score a superb individual goal before Primus completed the comeback.

With spirit such as this it wasn't surprising to see Reading progress to the fifth round of both domestic cup competitions and a win on the last day of January at home to Birmingham saw the Royals sit in relative comfort in fifteenth position. However the next eleven league games saw just one win (notably against Manchester City who would join Reading in relegation) and ten defeats which ultimately led to the demise of Bullivant. He was replaced immediately replaced by Burns who then engaged in a frenzy of transfer activity ahead of the deadline to bring in a string on nonentities and an ageing Robert Fleck.

Having secured my ticket to the final game of the season against Norwich, the last ever at Elm Park, I watched Reading's relegation confirmed, ironically on TV at Nottingham Forest on the last weekend of April. At least this meant my last trip to Elm Park could be enjoyed without any stress about the consequences of the result. The result was neatly the same as my first visit, a Craig Bellamy goal giving the Canaries a 1-0 win but the mood was one of indefatigable celebration of a ground which held so many good memories. I didn't bother going onto the pitch at the end instead I waited as those who did gleefully flung chunks of turf onto the South Bank, collecting a choice clod and wrapping it up in the Evening Post. This made an innovative table decoration in the Rising Sun as we sat down and raised a toast to the old ground. I've no idea who lives at my family home of 47 Courtlands nowadays, but they should feel blessed as the garden is infused with a piece of turf soaked in the blood, sweat and tears of the Elm Park Years 1896-1998.

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?