My recollection of my time going up the Abbey Stadium to watch Cambridge United play, is somewhat patchy. At the time, we lived by the river, about a mile away from the stadium. I remember being excited as my dad and I walked across the riverside towards Newmarket Road on a Saturday afternoon for the first time, wearing my spanking new Marvin the Moose baseball cap and virtually running to keep up with his grown up paces.
When we got there, the atmosphere was unbelievable. I'd never experienced a crowd of that size before. It was probably only around 5000 or so, but to me, it was millions. Sat about halfway up the family enclosure in the main stand, I looked over to see the Newmarket Road end bouncing, the noise electrifying. At the other end, the open air away supporters terrace, which looked more like a holding area for prisoners who dared to try and enter the fortress. Towering above us, the huge floodlights, which my dad took pleasure in telling me were of Premier League standard, because that's where we were headed! Opposite, the Habbin Stand, where it seemed the proper grown ups were, hands in pockets, presumably offering tactics advice to their friends.
The players emerged from the tunnel, and the noise went up another notch, the seats rumbling, the whole stand shaking as people welcomed their gladiators to the arena. The amber and black stripes serving as the warriors uniform....
And there, unfortunately, is where my memory gets hazy. I have no idea who we played that day, the score, the scorers (if there were any).
But I was hooked from that day. I was a quiet boy, still am to an extent. I didn't sing, only cheering when the ball hit the back of the net (at their end). All the while feeling the adrenaline coursing through me, the hairs standing up on my neck as the crowd roared.
A few months after that first game, my father came home with a plain beige coloured bag. He handed it to me and when I looked inside, it appeared to be a pack of yellowish dusting cloths. What did I want with these?! But when I pulled it out, and I saw the black stripes running through it, I realised what it was. My very first United shirt! I tore open the plastic bag and threw the shirt on over my t-shirt, a beaming grin across my face.
I continued to go to every game for the next year or so. Then came some bittersweet news; We were moving back to Wales. I was happy that I was going home, but what about school? My friends? The U's?!
After moving back, with the excitement/nerves/panic of being in a 'new' place, having to make new friends, CUFC took a back seat. Eventually my teen years took hold and I totally forgot about the great times I'd had at the Abbey, apart from checking ceefax now and again to see how we were getting on. I immersed myself in a new love, music. Not a moment went by when I wasn't listening to something, through headphones or on my cd player. Everything else was forgotten...
Fast forward to 2005, I happened to be checking through teletext and noticed that Cambridge were rock bottom of league 2. My heart sank. The team I'd followed devoutly all those years ago who were on the verge of greatness, were now out of the football league, relegated to the barren wasteland of non league football. I wanted to see where it all went wrong, and read all about promotions, relegations, the Abbey Stadium being sold, the club almost going out of business. It was a grim read. But one that sparked emotion. The next few years I started to get more and more interested in how we were doing, being genuinely chuffed when we won, gutted when we lost.
Then, for some reason, it just clicked back into place, like a dislocated joint that you've learned to put up with and forgotten about for years. I'm a Cambridge United fan. Regardless of where I live, who I 'should' follow. It means nothing. I seemed to pick the right (some would say wrong) time to get involved, just as Jimmy Quinn took over, and steered us to safety from yet another relegation. The next two seasons were amazing and devastating in equal measure. Two play off finals and two defeats.
Over the next couple of seasons we had a few more scares, more turbulent times, hopes dashed, beliefs shattered.
But here we are today, lying in wait for a new season to get underway, with expectations uncharacteristicly, but realistically low, hoping to be suprised at just how far the Jezolution can take us. Is it to be another year of flirting with the bottom four? Or can our young, famished squad shock everyone and do the unthinkable?
Watch this space...
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