" Here they come, the mighty champions..Wrexham is the name!" This is my first memory of my first ever visit to the Racecourse to watch my home town football team, Wrexham FC in action.
Already a fan by way of family loyalty to all things local, hearing those words ringing from the loud speakers, accompaniment provided by the famous Welsh tune "Men of Harlech" was a spine tingling and passionate introduction to football and the beginning of a love affair.
We took our seats (my Uncle and I) in what was then known as the Border Stand, I didn't realise at the time that this was the end for visiting supporters. It was 3 PM on a Saturday afternoon during the 1980-81 season, I was still at junior school and the opponents were Blackburn Rovers (then led by player-manager Howard Ken dall) who wore their distinctive blue and white "halved" shirts.
Wrexham were roared out wearing their famous red and white and the noise was deafening. In those days football had not yet witnessed the Bradford fire disaster and one side of the stadium was lined with an old wooden seated, stand. The fans stamped their feet, clapped their hands and shouted and cheered in overwhelming appreciation of their approaching heroes, of which Dixie McNeil became my favourite, for his goal poaching skills.
As my love affair with Wrexham FC and football began with a one nil defeat, in truth, the team itself was just at the beginning of its descent into bad results, lower leagues and a whole bundle of financial trouble. I had missed the "glory days" by two or three years when even though in a lower league the thought of visiting the Racecourse to play Wrexham, was a feared prospect for teams at all levels of the game. I remain convinced that the championship winning team of 77-78 must be the most successful season for a club at that level, ever, taking into consideration the run in both major cups (quarter finals) and the Welsh cup triumph.
My other main memory from my first season was a 1-1 draw with Notts County . As I got older I began attending more and more matches and despite seeing the club heading in the wrong direction in the league, there were still some great afternoons and nights to savour.
I missed the excitement of Porto and Roma in 84/85 but my first taste of European football fever arrived in 1986 with a comfortable win over FC Zurrieq that was followed by a pulsating, explosive match on bonfire night against Spanish side, Real Zaragoza. A nil nil in Spain had left the tie finely poised and Wrexham gave it their all against technically superior opponents. Screaming and shouting from the Yale stand, I couldn't will the reds to victory, but what a night! There really were fireworks as a 2 -2 draw, after extra time saw Wrexham slide agonisingly out of the cup on the away goals rule.
As my beloved Wrexham slipped and stumbled into the pit of the football league basement, nights of high drama were evaporating to be replaced with match after match of struggle and mediocrity, standing on the Kop during icy cold Tuesday evenings with barely a thousand other fans, still willing the team on, still craving success. Visiting teams added insult to injury, revelling in their own successes as Northampton Town and Bolton Wanderers both celebrated promotions on our hallowed turf.
" Wrexham, Wrexham" continued to ring out from the faithful few and they were rewarded with a stunning FA Cup victory against league champions Arsenal and a courageous replay defeat to West Ham in the next round. Trips to Old Trafford and the mighty Manchester United followed, in both European and FA Cup adventures. Seeing the scoreboard (albeit briefly) read Man United 0 Wrexham 1 and soccer's Theatre of Dreams stunned into silence was a spectacular highlight.
However, decline continued and those highlights were tempered by disastrous results at home to Colwyn Bay and struggles at Runcorn. The club spiralled toward financial doom and so did I, and my loyal love affair ended when I could no longer afford to pay at the turnstiles.
I drifted away and watched her from afar, sinking. Secretly hoping, praying that she would rise again, quietly plotting a return one day to the Racecourse I love, to re join the few that didn't abandon ship and dream of better days.
The vidiprinter whirs into gear and as Wrexham's result approaches I hear the voices in the distance, cheering a Wrexham goal, bemoaning a refereeing decision but most of all chanting. " Wrexham, Wrexham, Wrexham"
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