Highbury Memories

By El Cid

My dad didn't like taking me to first-team games.

There was too much swearing for his liking, he said, although he went most Saturdays and had been since the 1930s.  

So he took me to watch the reserves instead, which in those days and for quite a few years after, were generally played at Highbury. 

When Barcelona came to town for Georgie Armstrong's testimonial, though, there was no holding back my Spanish mum, who insisted we all go.

It was March 1974 and I was almost 8.

Four months later my dad was dead. 

It is my privilege to say that I saw the great Johann Cruyff play at Highbury, and what a mastershow he put on that night, with Barcelona running out 3-1 winners.

My family was split along predictable lines, with my dad, sister and I supporting the Gooners, and my mum and cousins plumping for the visitors.

There were quite a few Spanish Londoners in the crowd, mostly immigrants to the hotel trade in the 1950s and 1960s.

We all had Spanish omelette or Jamon Serrano bocadillos -- none of those Westler cardboard burgers or gristle pies for us.

I remember sulking because my mum was teasing us.

It's odd that a Madrid die-hard should back the Catalans. But it was different in them days. She certainly won't be backing Barcelona on May 17.

The next season I made my English league debut. It was against Leicester -- a 0-0 draw.

My second game was against Liverpool -- a 2-0 win. I remember Alan Ball slotting a penalty away. At least I think I do. The whiny ginger one was always deadly at spot kicks.

I can't remember exactly how much it cost to get in those days, or even how I got my hands on the money.

I think it was £2.50 in the Schoolboys, which used to be at the front of the lower East Stand, near the North Bank end. But it could have been less.

By my second game, I was in the North Bank.

I used to walk alone across Finsbury Park from Harringay -- that's with two 'r's and 'a' if you don't mind -- or hop on the 29.

But it didn't take long for me to persuade a few mates to come along as well.

We must have looked like a right mixed bag of street urchins -- all of us second-generation immigrants.

We used to always walked down St Thomas's Road back then.

We came 16th in 1974/75 and nearly got relegated in 1975/76. I think we lost a record 8 games in a row.

I remember a mate, David Ahmed, switched his allegiances to Man Utd. I've never really forgiven him.

But there was no moving me from my Arsenal. I was hooked. I was Arsenal through and through.

That was my dad's team after all, and I will be thinking of him when we finally leave the old place.