Villa Park pain must end one day, surely?
Posted by johnbray69 on March 16, 2010
I can still hear the laughter now, and more than 32 years later, I’m still awaiting revenge.
My first ever away game with Wolves, and my first taste of keeping quiet in the wrong end of a football stadium.
And all around me in the Holte End on a pleasant September evening in 1977, Villa fans chortling at what they’d just seen.
My scarf was hidden beneath my coat, but the excitement of my first ever Wolves game away from Molineux must have been visible on my eight year old face.
Despite being halfway up the Holte, I could make out my heroes down below: Phil Parkes, Geoff Palmer, Maurice Daly, Steve Daley, Colin Brazier, John McAlle, Martin Patching, Willie Carr, King John, Kenny Hibbitt, and Alan Sunderland.
Villa Park under the lights – what an introduction for a young boy falling into love with football, and Wolves.
But it all went wrong – and it’s been going wrong at Villa Park pretty much ever since.
OK, I think I remember listening on the radio as two-goal Norman Bell inspired a rare win for us. But from September 1977 until now, I’ve no fond memories of a trip to Aston.
My first trip left an indelible mark on my footballing life – Colin Brazier ballooning a back-pass over Phil Parkes into the gaping net as Brian Little bore down on the young defender.
So comical – unless you were a Wolves fan.
Fast forward to March 1978, and the agony of arriving late at Villa Park for an FA Cup semi final, and the pain of defeat against Arsenal.
Fast forward to April 1998, and the agony of arriving on time at Villa Park for an FA Cup semi final, and the pain of defeat against Arsenal.
Don’t even start me on the team that day – Steve Bull and Robbie Keane on the bench!
So many demons then at Villa Park, but the train tickets for Witton are booked for Saturday. Life is nothing without dreams.
Villa are top, top class, while we will probably end up being better than Hull and Burnley.
Saturday is a monumental challenge, but one that everyone at Wolves will embrace.
And if I was still eight, and untainted by the mental scars that accompany a Wolves love affair, I’d be backing Chris Iwelumo to score late in the game on Saturday.
And on balance, maybe that’s not such a fanciful notion. For my sake, and Colin Brazier’s sake, here’s hoping.
