I think of Bradford for two main reasons. Firstly, it is always really cramped, and secondly, Bradford has been a happy hunting ground for me – I’ve been there five times, and we’ve won four of those. Stubber also lives there, so I get the chance to stay over and discuss the finer points of our victories in the company of some dead cheap Sam Smith’s beer. I remember the first victory being courtesy of a bit of magic from Kieron (where’s me burger?) Brady. Smithy had been quoted in the press that week as saying that Brady was extremely talented, but had to realise that he couldn’t expect to beat four men and score in the football league. Keiron chose the Bradford game to beat at least seven men and score in front of the visiting fans.

However, despite the undoubted drama of last season’s visit, when Quinny elevated himself to the status of everlasting hero, it is the previous visit which I remember most fondly. Stubber and I share the same birthday, and it happens to be September 5th, so an obvious birthday treat in 1997 would be an away victory on that date. Boy, did we get a present to remember ! We had front row seats above Lionel, and celebrated by rattling the advertisement hoardings for ninety minutes. After the match, Pos took the kids home to Bishop (as he didn’t have a pass-out from she-who-must-be-obeyed), & Stubber & I went out to celebrate in Yeadon, near the airport, and just across the field from his house. If you’ve ever been on a night out around Bradford, you’ll know a couple of things: firstly, you don’t see too many Bradford supporters in the pubs away from the city centre, and secondly, Sunderland colours are not the most popular in the Leeds area. Apparently, their memories of 1973 are just as vivid as ours, but entirely opposite.

For the second of the above reasons, it is advisable to be subtle in your display of red and white in the pubs, despite the fact that there are a surprisingly large number of Sunderland regulars around Yeadon. (at Stubbers promotion party the day after Barnsley, I was talking to a South Shields exile by the name of Bees whose scarf had been on Top Of The Pops in 1973. Apparently this was because the guitarist in the group “Geordie” was a Mackem, and had borrowed the scarf to show his true colours. A little bit of rock’n’roll trivia for you).

So, we ordered a double round of Sam’s, and sat down amongst the Leeds fans to wistfully celebrate the passing yet of another year, and gleefully relive the exhilaration of the match. We had sensibly chosen to display our Wearside allegiance by means of subtle shirts bearing the club crest. We’d managed half an hour or so of quiet giggling, optimistically planning how to celebrate promotion the following May, and noisily whacking back the Sam’s when we became aware of a pair of eyes staring at us. The guy looked quite sane and sensible, in his late forties, but fit looking. He saw us glance up at him, and moved across, pint in hand. We braced ourselves to talk our way out of whatever was imminent, and he joined us at our table, “Excuse me lads, but I couldn’t help noticing your accents. Are you Sunderland Supporters?” “Yes”, we replied “Oh good” he said “ I used to play for the youth team a while ago” “A bloody long while” we thought, and entered into a lengthy and fascinating conversation about life as an apprentice at SAFC in the mid to late Sixties. This bloke turned out to have gone to school with Colin Suggett, and remained close friends with him this day. Our new pal had joined Sunderland at the same time as Suggett and Todd, but had sustained what was, in those days, a career ending leg injury. Modern surgical techniques would probably have ensured his football future, but he decided to go into teaching, and went to a Physical Education college near Bradford. He’d been nearby ever since. The people you meet, eh? We forgot to ask his name, so that we could look him up in the reference books, but we were on our birthday night out, and didn’t want to be too anorakish (Real world? Who cares!)

It made our night, really – 4-0 win away from home on our birthday, and meeting someone who had turned out in the red and white. We continued our celebrations at Stubber’s house in true Bradford fashion – “let’s all have a curry” we had sung at the match, so we ordered in a great, big, hot one with all the trimmings, and washed it down with lashings of Mr Boddington’s foamy canned stuff. Happy birthday!