Here's a nostalgic little piece I wrote for When
Saturday Comes many moons ago.
1987. The year of Kylie Minogue,
Shakoor Rana and 9% interest rates. The year you didn't have to be 'thirtysomething'
to say, "I've seen Portsmouth in the First Division." My
thoughts still drift back to that ecstatic May day when Pompey lost gloriously at home to Sheffield United
to clinch a return to the top flight.
Pompey made a predictably poor start to the season, but soon settled into the rhythm of life at the top. By February, a good Cup run had been put together and mid-table obscurity seemed a distinct possibility.
Then along came bloody Liverpool to spoil everything as usual. When the mighty Reds arrived at Fortress Fratton, Pompey were ten matches unbeaten. Most of us in the 28,197 crowd were convinced we could stretch this run. Indeed, Liverpool were kept at bay in the first half and Pompey even had a few good chances themselves. Unfortunately, they all fell to Micky Quinn. It took a deflection from the boot of the unfortunate Billy Gilbert to beat Knight in the Portsmouth goal. Barnes' silky skills unlocked the staunch Pompey defence for a second goal and that was that. A win that day would have lifted us to the heady heights of 12th place.
The next day I queued at 6am outside the gates of Fratton Park for the privilege of being allowed into Kenilworth Road for the FA Cup Quarter-Final. Pompey never got to grips with the plastic and tumbled out of the Cup 3-1. Little did we know that Wimbledon would have been waiting for us in the Semi-Final: the twin towers and revenge over Liverpool in the Final.
However brave these two performances, the defeats seemed to completely knock the stuffing out of Pompey. The remaining eleven games yielded a miserable five points as our League performance came to mirror the club's bank balance. The Inland Revenue, Customs and Excise and Division Two were all waiting.
Maybe we deserved to go down. After all, we did have very silly shirts in those days. Even now my dreams are haunted by a pin-striped Micky Quinn, the South Coast Fiat logo on his chest bulging out into yet another offside trap.
Pompey have never quite
hit the spot since those halcyon days. It's not that I don't enjoy losing
at Swindon in the pouring rain. Some teams would dream of finishing 17th
in Division Two. At least we can look forward to the future with some optimism.
Our FA Cup giant-killing run (Barnet, Bournemouth) was ended only by two
moments of inspiration from an overweight Geordie. For the first time in
years, we haven't had more bookings than Butlins. Now that the Bald Eagle
has landed, I am already looking forward to an away trip to Marseilles in
1993-94. If God hadn't meant us to play in Europe, why did he create the
Continental Ferry Port?
(WSC55, Sept 1991)