There’s a two year period in the middle of Stockport County’s historic 90s decade where the club went through somewhat of a transition and didn’t achieve much. The rest of the decade is full of promotions, play offs, Wembley appearances, cup giant-killings, stuffing Man City, all that stuff that became normal.
The 94/95 season came after a painful play off final defeat to Burnley, which saw manager Danny Bergara allegedly give a team talk that was possibly a bit too aggressive and compared his players to soldiers in the Gulf War. Chris Beaumont and Mike Wallace were both sent off and we lost 2-1 to a team that we finished twelve points ahead of.
The aftermath was a massive hangover. Danny Bergara was sacked during that next season for an incident at a club function involving him, the chairman and paid expenses. Kevin Francis was sold to Birmingham City and County finished the season in a disappointing 11th position in the third tier.
One of the only highlights of the season was the emergence of young striker Alun Armstrong, signed from Newcastle reserves, a crop of bleached blonde hair and an eye for goal.
The next season in the transition, 95/96 saw manager Dave Jones, who had served as a coach under Bergara start to stamp his own identity on the team, make some outstanding signings that would go on to become club legends and County narrowly missed out on the play offs.
The highlight of this season was two pulsating FA Cup games against holders Everton. This is the story of how rather than enjoying both games from a normal seat with the rest of the County masses, I ended up in a hospital and on the pitch.
On Sunday 7th January 1996, at 18 years old, I borrowed my Mums car and set off for Goodison Park from Sale with my mate Jimmy. We stopped off in Knutsford to pick up another mate Matt and with match tickets safely in the glovebox we were on our way to Liverpool with massive excitement and anticipation.
To get from Knutsford to the motorway the logical way to go is down the main Manchester Road towards Mere. For some reason I took the smaller country road, Mereheath Lane and ended up having to turn on to Manchester Road. This is where my day changed dramatically. Back in those days everyone use to hang football scarfs out of their car window when they went to a game. They might still do it, I have no idea. I’m proper foreign these days.
So as I’m turning at this junction, I’ve got my scarf hanging out of my drivers window, which should have been in the back really but there it was, draped down partially blocking my view of cars coming from the right. I make the turn and BANG. An elderly couple smash into me at about 50 mph. Both cars end up in the middle of the road, my drivers window is shattered, the car is a write off and I’ve got pieces of glass stuck in my arm and blood everywhere. I actually got quite lucky, people tend to drive a lot faster on that road and the old dears may have gone easy on me from an impact standpoint.
I checked everyone was ok which they were.
This was before mobile phones. Well, just. We didn’t have one anyway. Matt then runs over to a house and calls an ambulance and his Mum. I’m in a daze, absolutely devastated I’m going to miss this game, I’ve ruined everyone’s day and I’ve wrecked my Mums car.
I get carted off to hospital and one of the most epic games in County’s history unfolds at Goodison Park. Everton were really good in those days with players like Andrei Kanchelskis, Anders Limpar, Neville Southall and Graham Stuart and as I mentioned previously, they had won it the year before, when people still cared about the FA Cup, a 1-0 win over Manchester United.
This day, Graham Stuart scored early before Alun Armstrong equalised for County. Gary Ablett who went on to later manage County and who is sadly now passed away, restored Everton’s lead just before half time.
In the 61st minute Ian Helliwell scored one of County’s most iconic goals with a diving header from a Chris Beaumont cross and County clung on for a deserved draw.
When this game gets talked about on social media and message boards it’s always all about the away following, the sheer size of it and the sheer noise of them. A little piece of me dies inside every time I read it.
I’ve got still got the scar from that glass. The doctor told me it would be gone within a few months. Here we are 26 years later.
That night as I lay in the ward with a bunch of freaks if I remember right, in walks Jimmy looking a bit sheepish. He had a confession for me. Turns out right before my Mums car got towed away for the scrap yard, he went into the glovebox, got his ticket out and jumped on a train to Lime Street. He had a great time at Goodison. The little bastard.
The replay (replays! Remember them?) was ten days later at Edgeley Park.
Following the first game at Goodison my Mum, unbeknown to me had written to County and told them about my accident and they very kindly sent me two complimentary tickets for the replay on the front row of the Cheadle End. Side note: next time you judge someone for a rush of blood to the head on the pitch, perhaps stop and ask yourself who put them on the front row!
That was a joke. Some of the scenes we saw at the end of last season in England were disgusting. Nothing wrong with an innocent little wobble though in my opinion.
I actually took an Everton fan to this game. I can’t remember if I was still angry at Jimmy for his glovebox trick but it’s possible.
It was another pulsating tie. Edgeley Park packed to the rafters, under the lights. This time we had Duncan Ferguson to worry about and the giant Scottish striker snarled and muscled his way around the pitch to great effect.
County though were 1-0 up at half time and heading for a famous upset. The goal came from the head of Matthew Bound, a goal I used to recreate jumping into holiday swimming pools for years afterwards, accompanied by an imitation of Tony Gubba’s Sportsnight commentary.
With 19 minutes left, Graham Stuart equalised before Ferguson powered in a header two minutes later to put the Toffees 2-1 up. As the clock ticked towards 90 it looked like a brave display from County wouldn’t be enough.
In the 88th minute, Alun Armstrong twisted and turned in the box after a headed flick on and smashed the ball past Neville Southall at the Cheadle End. Edgeley Park erupted. He ran towards the corner flag right towards where we were sat and I instinctively leaped over the hoardings to greet him as he slid head first across the turf.
I’d never done anything like it before and I’ve never done it since but I didn’t think twice about it at the time. It was pure adrenaline. Not sure what’s going on with my wardrobe there. I worked in a sports shop at the time so the green Reebok jumper would have come from there. The beige kecs, who knows.
As I lay on top of him I remember him punching the ground over and over again shouting “FUCKING YES! FUCKING YES! over and over again. A few other fans and players piled on and I was eventually dragged off of him. Actually looking back I’m surprised I wasn’t frogmarched out. There was maybe too much chaos going on at the time so I managed to just jump back over to where I was sat. I don’t think I’d been back in the stand more than a few seconds, I certainly hadn’t turned to face the game yet when I heard the roar from the other end of the ground. John Ebbrell had smashed home a winner while most in the ground were still jumping around in jubilation. The air was sucked out of our three sides of the ground and it was over.
Twenty years later I was sat in my house in California with a mate from England that used to play with Alun Armstrong at the famous Wallsend Boys Club in Newcastle as kids. I slapped on YouTube and showed him my moment of fame. He asked me if Alun was my favourite County player and I said yeah probably, definitely one of them.
A few months later I had a 40th birthday party back home and the same mate presented me with an unbelievable gift. He hadn’t spoken to Armstrong since their younger days but had reached out to him on LinkedIn of all places and arranged for him to sign this picture and presented it in a frame to me on my birthday.
A brilliant gesture and an everlasting memory of how driving like a nobhead led to a lifetime scar, missing one of the greatest 90 minutes in my clubs history but ending up on top of one of its most legendary players on a magical but gut wrenching night.