I apologise if my response deviates away from was asked but I feel I need to cleanse myself openly in front of you all.
It is 1966, I have been a Blade for some years and my joy was receiving my new season ticket wallet for the forthcoming season, checking there was always enough vouchers in the book to cover every game and enough extra vouchers to cover FA Cup games at home or replays or replays of replays or replays of replays of replays.
It is May 1966, the season had finished, we had ended up 9th in the League 1, our neighbours 17th, I think it should be applauded that this weekend they will still be playing in League 1 albeit 33 places lower.
The FA Cup was the biggest sporting event in the world of football at that time, teams took it seriously and hundreds of millions around the world watched it.
That year Sheffield Wednesday reached the final, they played every game away from hoe so yes it was a feat in itself. They were playing Everton.
100,000 filled the ground of which 103,000 were Wednesday fans
Wednesday took the lead 2-0 but Everton fought back with 2 goals from Treble Cock (not the real spelling but still makes me giggle) and then Gerry Young, the Wednesday defender thinking he was the next Bobby Moore, slipped and let in Derek Temple for the winner.
My heart was full, my smile from ear to ear - until...
My Mum and Dad, now both sadly long passed were both Blades, they followed them home and away throughout their courting days.
Wednesday despite losing, were awarded an open bus top parade throughout the town centre, culminating in a balcony appearance at the Town Hall. My Mum and Dad insisted we went as they had done Sheffield proud, and we should and join in their achievement.
What do I do, I am 9 years old, fake a cold, throw myself downstairs, no I had to go.
We go there and being only about 3 foot tall, I was either on my Dad's shoulders or had my face buried in the crotch of some blue and white clad, defeat celebrating neanderthal.
There were thousands outside the Town Hall, tens or hundreds of thousands if you count like Wednesday fans count. I just had to feign enjoyment for a couple of hours and make a promise to myself that come the day we appear in and win the FA Cup that, that day in 1966 will be laid to rest forever. Little was I to know that day would never come and more than likely will not happen in my lifetime - and that is my disappointment and where I feel let down
So, I went home and scrubbed and scrubbed my face and hands with Brillo pad after Brillo pad, truth is the smell and the sounds, and the visions of that day have never left me.
Can it be classed as abuse by my Mum and Dad or were they just showing me what celebrating failure looks like then just imaging what celebrating real success would be feel like. I never talked about it with them I did not want them to see how much they had disappointed me
Having written all that, I don't feel any cleaner, no weight has been lifted off my shoulders, I suppose it won't until the ills of later life hit me
