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My Dad took me to my first proper football match in 1974. The nearest professional club to where we lived was Scunthorpe United, then in the Fourth, lowest, Division of the English Football League. I was a Liverpool supporter at that age and the fact that Ray Clemence and Kevin Keegan, then at Liverpool, had previously played at The Old Showground on Doncaster Road, held some excitement for me and brought the names and clubs on my collection of football cards that little bit closer. The ground had certainly seen better days. The stands were just big steel framed open bay sheds with a lot of corrugated iron or even asbestos sheeting forming the sides and roofs. Not at all watertight or weatherproof. My first match was a winter afternoon game so the floodlights were already on at 3pm when we had walked the full length of the High Street from the brand new multi-storey car park that was the centrepiece of Scunthorpe's new shopping precinct. I vividly recall that first sight of the still lush green pitch under the glare of the lights.That is still my favourite part of attending a game. Emerging from the underground maze of sub-terracing turnstiles into the mix of bright light and the competition between the tannoy system and the crowd. The ground, I cannot use the word stadium, was standing only, apart from the Directors and VIP area where hard plastic seats and bring your own cushion were the indicators of first class accommodation. The terracing in the Donny Road end behind the south goal was in harsh concrete that made your legs and souls of your feet ache after only 20 minutes. Me and my Dad sought refuge just in front of one of the metal barriers set in the concrete which gave some protection against being crushed by the surge of the crowd. The game must have been just before or just after Bonfire Night because, no sooner had we got settled to await the arrival of the teams, someone threw a banger which landed just behind an old chap near us. I think that the general noise of the crowd, in serving to stifle the actual explosion of the firework , may have saved the man from the full and startling impact of an unexpected improper explosive device. The crowd were quite unruly, foul mouthed, drunk and very handy throwing and rolling around beer cans and bottles which littered under foot. The teams filtered on and the game got underway. I could see most of the play but being somewhat short for my age I had to edge up on tip toe to see any attack down the far end or if the crowd in front jumped up or got otherwise agitated. I found it strange that the phases of action were not available to view and analyse on a replay having been used to this on my TV only  based match experience. I was so enthralled by being at a real game that time flew. Half time came. A packet of crisps from the local Riley's brand cost 2p. I will not attempt to describe the squalid conditions in the communal toilets save I decided that I would not put myself in the position ever again to need them. Disappointingly, I cannot remember the score or opposing team but thanks to the internet it was apparently  0-0 against Swansea City. The walk back through the town to the car park was a bit frightening as the crowd spilled out at the end of the match. The evenings mayhem in the town centre had already begun.

Going to a game yesterday was such a massive contrast to the dark days of the 1970's. It was Jake's first match, age 7.Hull City versus Burnley. I did not want to go on my own so we came to a pact that if he saved up half the ticket money then I would pay the balance. He managed to get to 47p but thanks to a very enlightened pricing policy at Hull City he was already just under 16% paid up. We went on a nice clean Park and Ride bus which dropped us off just outside the KC Stadium. I was at its opening on a bitterly cold night in 2002, a purpose built £44 million facility. The concourse was lively but well illuminated as the winter afternoon light faded. Jake bought a programme. He had a couple of pounds from his Grandad towards the cover price. A thick and informative volume that could keep a young lad in reading matter and statistics for a month. We were very early, about an hour before kick-off but Jake wanted to soak up the atmosphere as he was into all things football and Man Utd. First on our list of pre-match things to do was to check the away team coach and then the players and officials cars in the car park. The owners Rolls Royce, lots of matt black 4 x 4's and definitely some sponsorship link with the local Audi franchise. Jake easily got through the turnstile although my big bulky coat made it a tight fit for me. He made sure that he got back his ticket stub as a souvenir. Our seats were high up in the two tier West Stand, just level with one of the goals. Jake plays goalie at school so he was thrilled that all three of City's keepers were out training in front of us. There was no one else yet sat in our block so we went walkabout. Loo, food franchise, popping through the other block entrances to see what was going on down on the pitch and then back to sit down with a bag of crisps and hot chocolate. Compared to my 1974 experience we were lording it up. Jake was anxious for the game to start. I think he actually counted the crowd in as I had told him that the game would start when everyone was sat down, yes, all seater, comfy seats and good leg room. All first class accommodation. The teams were on and warming up. I had to squint to make out any familiar faces but the team was mainly new signings and Andy Dawson who had played in all the Divisions and the Premier League for City was the only one I recognised. Then the announcer and guard of honour marked the start of the game. Jake was on the edge of his seat. The game started slowly but City were 1-0 up after ten minutes. We jumped around with the crowd at this good start. By half time, no more goals but our team were well on top. I was quite happy to stay seated or stretch my legs where we were but Jake needed the loo again and he was also hungry. The food franchising is a slick operation as required in a numbers-served game. The long queue we joined soon snaked it's way to the till. We left for our seats and the second half with a foot long hot dog in a foil warapper as big as a sleeping bag and a bottle of Pepsi. City were 2-0 up and cruising by 66 minutes. Arch rivals, Leeds were 2-0 down at home so we would leap frog them in the table, up to 5th. We had not really accounted for the course that the last last twelve minutes of the game went. Twelve minutes of madness in which Burnley scored three very good goals and then the final whistle. We were stunned in to silence. Jake was not downhearted though and was already starting negotiations towards the percentage he should be expected to put towards his ticket for the next home game.