From Crispin Lane to Hollywood Boulevard

"QUITE A GOOD GAME REALLY"

Let's re-live some lovely moments

No.5 Nathan Davies remembers Chester v Wrexham, December 1997, FA Cup 2^nd Round

I frantically typed numbers, letters and strange symbols onto my keyboard and waited patiently for my computer to inform me who had proved victorious in the battle of the giants in the FA Cup first round: Rochdale versus Wrexham. I waited patiently - in much the same manner as I have waited for Rush’s first goal – and after what seemed like an age my machine blinked, beeped and busily began to display the afternoon’s results: Rochdale 0 Wrexham 2

We had continued our impressive cup form and made it into the second round yet again. The happiness I felt after such an impressive victory was soured by the fact that I was not there to witness the display. I was born and raised in Wrexham and shall always consider the town my home. I have also been a dedicated supporter of the red army during the Flynn era (lucky me! ). I am a regular at home games and have spent a fortune following the team around the country and purchasing top quality merchandise from the club shop.

After successful results at the ‘A’ level examination table, it was time to sever the umbilical cord with my home town and transport myself to Nottingham. I returned to the Racecourse for each weekend fixture but it was a financial and impractical impossibility to return for midweek games, and subsequently I missed my first game for three years. I would have to get used to this though due to the nature of my degree course which presented me with the opportunity to go to the United States for a five-month period and swap Crispin Lane for Hollywood Boulevard. Due to technological innovations such as e-mail and the Internet, I was able to keep up to date with all the news, views and gossip concerning the premier team in Wales and everything was going fine until the FA Cup second round draw was made.

As a proud Welshman, I have always harboured bitter feelings towards the English oppressors and due to our geography this has especially been aimed towards the C*****R. To discover that I would miss the opportunity to lead our troops into battle against the old enemy was heartbreaking. The fact that the game would be broadcast live on Sky provided me with some vain hope that I would be able to watch the game. This irrational wish soon disappeared after enquiries with Sky television and the local television station in Illinois.I could not believe I would be missing such a crucial game and subsequently decided there was only one solution. I wrote a letter to Flynn and the matchday programme in order to lend my small support in some small manner before retreating into hibernation and switching my computer off. I went to watch the Chicago Bears annihilate their opposition in front of 50,000 screaming Americans who waved their foam fingers in manic fashion, although the lack of real passion merely increased my appetite to discover what had happened in the grudge match.

After an anxious and nervous two-week waiting period, a video tape was delivered to my address. This video tape was worth more to me than the footage of a randy couple performing lewd activities that I filmed when stumbling upon them on a visit to the White House. I later sold the tape for a princely sum to some bloke called Starr who seemed eager to view the sordid activities for some reason. I had to pay 50 dollars to get the match converted to suit American video recorders, but then I was ready to enter my time machine and transport myself back in time a couple of weeks to the Deva ‘stadium’.

I proudly modelled my Wrexham shirt and scarf and told the apathetic Yanks to gather around in order to watch some real sport and passion. Unfortunately, my usual cans of Wrexham Lager had to be replaced with a sub-standard American equivalent, although apart from that I managed to create an authentic atmosphere by singing Men of Harlech at full volume and inflating a beautiful plastic sheep.

As the camera penned round ‘Toy Town’, I saw the images of countless friends and those familiar faces I used to see every week around the Racecourse. This was no time for sentimentality however, as the game began and C*****R piled on the pressure. Nick Richardson even hit the post. My heart was in my mouth as I knew they always had a chance with ‘Judas’ Bennett on their side. However, it did not take long for quality to rise to the surface as Connolly struck twice to send me into raptures. I was drunk by half-time and the remainder of the game is a bit of a blur, although I went to bed safe in the knowledge that we had avoided defeat against the plastic scousers.

I am now back in Nottingham and enjoying my final year at university. Whilst in North America I travelled extensively, visited some breathtaking cities and indulged myself with some fantastic sights. However, I was constantly lost in cyberspace as I attempted to discover the progress of my beloved hometown club. Wherever I travel and finally establish myself, I shall never be far from my spiritual home.

If you’ve got a favourite match you’d like to write about - from the ‘30s, ‘40s, ‘50s, ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s or 1990s - please send your memories to Red Passion