24th February 1968

Marks the 50th anniversary, to the day, of my first Blues game. This lifelong pendulum of torture and joy (more torture, really, I suppose) kicked off at St Andrews on 24/2/1968 against Aston Villa. We won 2-1, with a goal scored in the very first minute.

I was just seven, but can remember it now - we were upstairs at the Railway End and when the goal went in, the whole place erupted. I was bloody terrified! My stepfather, who was from Small Heath, did have the good grace to say that I could support whichever side I wanted, as my dad's family were from Aston and they were Villa.

No chance, though, it was the Royal Blue for me - it was about the only thing that I was ever grateful to the old scroat for, and it's not nearly enough to atone for him being a proper tool, but it was something.

This 'winning' lark seemed like good fun, and I thought that it was always going to be like that. In fairness, though, I was an extremely dull-witted child.

Anyway, up the fecking Blues. As ever. (tu)