Aged 16, I made the decision to go into the morgue.
I didn’t know if it was the right one, but I wanted to say one final goodbye to my Grandad Sid. He lay there very still but looked at peace. I nervously walked round him, not sure what the correct behaviour was. I didn’t cry, he was a hard man, and I held the tears back as I knew he wouldn’t want me to shed any.
It was strange seeing him so lifeless but still so familiar. A proud man who grew up in Shepherds Bush, he was a Grandad to be proud of and he, via my dad, gave me one of my greatest loves in life…Queens Park Rangers Football Club.
It was 1995, February 18th and that afternoon, QPR faced Millwall in the FA Cup 5th Round.
My Dad lost his father that week and told me and my brothers he had to go to the morgue to finalise some arrangements before we went to the game.
They made us wait outside for about 20 minutes which just made us even more anxious and made us worry why it would take so long to get him presentable for us to see him. Eventually they let us in, and my dad gave us the option to stay outside if we wished. We went in through and eighteen years on, I am pleased I did.
My dad was heartbroken but tried to not show it. He wanted his sons to enjoy our big day and hopefully a win which would see us get into the quarter finals of the FA Cup. Back then, the FA Cup meant just as much as the league in my eyes, and you didn’t have half full stadiums then as the competition got the respect it truly deserved. It upsets me now that the tops sides see it as a distraction more than a prestigious trophy.
Lots of clubs also price the fans out and gradually the magic has been sucked out of it, sadly.
After we paid our respects, we set off towards Loftus Road.
My Dad moved to South London forty years ago but thankfully made us all QPR fans rather than any local sides. At school, I had loads of Millwall supporting mates, not to mention the ones I lived close to or played football with. It made it a must win game for me.
We have all experienced going into school on a Monday and getting heckled. Being the only QPR supporter in my class made it all the worse for me. Liverpool and Man Utd fans I didn’t take seriously but Millwall and other London supported sides I did as they didn’t support their respective sides from the comfort of their home.
Millwall packed out the away end and per usual made lots of noise. The prize for both sides was massive and for us, boasting a great side then with the likes of legends Les Ferdinand and Alan McDonald, we secretly fancied our chances of going all the way to Wembley if we made it through.
It was a fast-paced affair. Andy Roberts for Millwall played exceptionally well and hit a post in the 2nd half which had me wincing as soon as it left his foot. A typical London derby of tough challenges pursued throughout and when we reached injury time still at 0-0, the prospect of having to go to the Den in a replay was not what we had wanted or expected.
What happened next, I will never forget.
A corner was given to QPR at the loft end. I was in the upper loft and was just willing us to score but we looked like we could play until midnight and not hit the back of the net.
As the ball approached the crowded penalty box, Damian Webber, Millwall’s huge centre half, inexplicably raised his arm like Michael Jordan ready to slam dunk and struck the ball blatantly with his forearm.
Three sides of the ground in unison shouted “HANDBALL” but we could have all stayed quiet and it would have been given as Webber almost caught it.
My Dad turned to me and started yelling “He did it, he did it!!”
I didn’t know what he was going on about and he quickly explained before Clive Wilson picked the ball up.
“Your Grandad! I asked him just before the corner to give us a hand” My Dad shouted over the crowd.
I felt goose bumps. My Dad and I have never believed in after life but the surreal nature of Webber’s behaviour and with all the emotion throughout the day, it really did feel Grandad Sid had played a part for us all.
The reason we cheered as if it was a goal rather than a penalty was because we knew we had the best penalty taker in the league. Clive Wilson was the coolest man in the stadium and three keepers wouldn’t have stopped his inch perfect strike. We all went mental and Millwall barely had enough time to kick off before the ref blew full time.
QPR drew Manchester United away in the Quarter Finals and although we took eight thousand fans with us that day, we were beaten 2-0. It was my first visit to Old Trafford and the atmosphere was something I will never forget despite the result.
I will never forget Grandad Sid’s assistance either and I reckon he was the major reason I went into school the following Monday with a huge smile on my face.
Thanks Grandad.
deatho79 