Leading up to the Hull game - and experiencing the dreaded collywobbles again - made me reflect on the very first time I felt this way.
It was 1978 - 46 years ago this week - when I first experienced the kind of butterflies and anxiety that I have learned to associate with regular end-of-season nightmares. There were vague parallels with our present state of affairs, insofar as a season of wild jubilation was followed by a worrying fall from grace (albeit not in consecutive seasons). In addition, the good times were separated from the bad by the departure of charismatic and talismanic personalities.
April, 1975 saw the culmination of a season that many will still argue as being among the finest in Argyle’s history. Waiters’ Wonders had taken the third tier by storm and clinched promotion back to the second tier, in no small part due to the herculean efforts of a strike force known as Mariner/Rafferty.
1975/76 was our first time back in the second tier for a fair few years and saw us relying on the magical Mariner/Rafferty combination for 30 of our goals. This certainly helped us achieve what was a reasonably comfortable ten-point cushion against relegation at the close of play. At the beginning of Season 1976/77, however, we were always in danger of entering what is now referred to as ’difficult second season’ territory. With this in mind it seemed that the obvious thing to do (!) before the season started was to sell Rafferty and follow it up a few months later by offloading Mariner.
The latter involved a very shrewd bit of business with the Tractor Boys. They got Mariner and we ended up with Terry Austen, John Peddelty and a bag of magic beans. Even though I was in my early 20s (and still wet behind the ears) it didn’t escape me that perhaps selling both of your talismanic, scoring-for-fun players might not have been the wisest move. And so to proved. In a season that screamed ‘We are doomed!’ from as early as October (we only won five matches after Mariner’s departure) we were ultimately despatched ‘back from whence we came’.
‘Oh, well’ I thought ‘at least the games will be easier and we'll pop straight back up again.’ (I told you I was wet behind the ears!) Unfortunately, in Season 1977/78 we struggled under two managers (Mike Kelly and Lenny Lawrence) before bringing in a third (sound familiar?), Malcolm Allison By the time the flamboyant Allison arrived (sorry, but it is mandatory to use ‘flamboyant’ when referring to ‘Big Mal’) Argyle were in dire straights. With 12 matches to go, we had only managed six wins all season. When Allison arrived, few people (myself included) thought an inevitable consecutive relegation could be avoided. He started to steady the ship, however, and results improved - including a 5-1 mid-week thrashing of Portsmouth at Fratton Park. The odd draw and win here and there culminated in a crunch match on the 29th of April, 1978.
Argyle were to take to the field at Home Park against fellow relegation contenders, Port Vale, on the last but one game of the season. I remember waking up on a very pleasant and sunny day, consumed with total dread. Although I had experienced two relegations from second tier to third in my relatively brief Argyle relationship, there was far more at stake this time around. Defeat at home to Port Vale would have almost certainly consigned us to the fourth tier of English football for the first time in Argyle’s history. At that time the ignominy of that state of affairs was totally unthinkable to me, hence the accompanying feelings of stress, nausea, nervousness and general doom leading up to my journey to Home Park that afternoon.
The match itself was - and please excuse the cliche - an emotional rollercoaster with gut-wrenching lows at the beginning and unbelievable euphoria at the final whistle. Argyle won 3-2 and a summary of that monumental encounter can be found on the excellent Greens On Screen. Disaster had been avoided and Argyle were still amongst the clubs never to have been plunged into the dark abyss of the fourth tier. Sadly, we all know that wasn’t to last, but for a short period of time on that April weekend, 46 years ago, everything seemed wonderful.
I can only pray for a similar outcome this Saturday!
It was 1978 - 46 years ago this week - when I first experienced the kind of butterflies and anxiety that I have learned to associate with regular end-of-season nightmares. There were vague parallels with our present state of affairs, insofar as a season of wild jubilation was followed by a worrying fall from grace (albeit not in consecutive seasons). In addition, the good times were separated from the bad by the departure of charismatic and talismanic personalities.
April, 1975 saw the culmination of a season that many will still argue as being among the finest in Argyle’s history. Waiters’ Wonders had taken the third tier by storm and clinched promotion back to the second tier, in no small part due to the herculean efforts of a strike force known as Mariner/Rafferty.
1975/76 was our first time back in the second tier for a fair few years and saw us relying on the magical Mariner/Rafferty combination for 30 of our goals. This certainly helped us achieve what was a reasonably comfortable ten-point cushion against relegation at the close of play. At the beginning of Season 1976/77, however, we were always in danger of entering what is now referred to as ’difficult second season’ territory. With this in mind it seemed that the obvious thing to do (!) before the season started was to sell Rafferty and follow it up a few months later by offloading Mariner.
The latter involved a very shrewd bit of business with the Tractor Boys. They got Mariner and we ended up with Terry Austen, John Peddelty and a bag of magic beans. Even though I was in my early 20s (and still wet behind the ears) it didn’t escape me that perhaps selling both of your talismanic, scoring-for-fun players might not have been the wisest move. And so to proved. In a season that screamed ‘We are doomed!’ from as early as October (we only won five matches after Mariner’s departure) we were ultimately despatched ‘back from whence we came’.
‘Oh, well’ I thought ‘at least the games will be easier and we'll pop straight back up again.’ (I told you I was wet behind the ears!) Unfortunately, in Season 1977/78 we struggled under two managers (Mike Kelly and Lenny Lawrence) before bringing in a third (sound familiar?), Malcolm Allison By the time the flamboyant Allison arrived (sorry, but it is mandatory to use ‘flamboyant’ when referring to ‘Big Mal’) Argyle were in dire straights. With 12 matches to go, we had only managed six wins all season. When Allison arrived, few people (myself included) thought an inevitable consecutive relegation could be avoided. He started to steady the ship, however, and results improved - including a 5-1 mid-week thrashing of Portsmouth at Fratton Park. The odd draw and win here and there culminated in a crunch match on the 29th of April, 1978.
Argyle were to take to the field at Home Park against fellow relegation contenders, Port Vale, on the last but one game of the season. I remember waking up on a very pleasant and sunny day, consumed with total dread. Although I had experienced two relegations from second tier to third in my relatively brief Argyle relationship, there was far more at stake this time around. Defeat at home to Port Vale would have almost certainly consigned us to the fourth tier of English football for the first time in Argyle’s history. At that time the ignominy of that state of affairs was totally unthinkable to me, hence the accompanying feelings of stress, nausea, nervousness and general doom leading up to my journey to Home Park that afternoon.
The match itself was - and please excuse the cliche - an emotional rollercoaster with gut-wrenching lows at the beginning and unbelievable euphoria at the final whistle. Argyle won 3-2 and a summary of that monumental encounter can be found on the excellent Greens On Screen. Disaster had been avoided and Argyle were still amongst the clubs never to have been plunged into the dark abyss of the fourth tier. Sadly, we all know that wasn’t to last, but for a short period of time on that April weekend, 46 years ago, everything seemed wonderful.
I can only pray for a similar outcome this Saturday!
