I did not realise at the time that spotting Mr Stokoe would turn out to be an omen. He had charmed the nation when his team – then in the Second Division – beat mighty Leeds United in the 1973 FA Cup Final and he ran and danced onto the pitch at full time wearing his trademark trilby hat. Just then I spied Bob Stokoe (the former Sunderland manager) sitting alone at breakfast – the only other occupant of that huge dining room. I was a bit peeved with Joe because he seemed oblivious to the weight of what was to happen in the next few minutes (ie, meeting a total stranger to receive two football match tickets in exchange for a wad of sterling that I was guarding with my life, petrified I’d lose it and f*** up the whole weekend). We were in our late teens, out of our depth in the high ceilinged marbled opulence of probably the swankiest hotel we’d been in up to that point. I was minding my own business except for a few hurried exchanges with Joe my pal sitting opposite. It was once upon a time and so far away but the memory of that day will live with me for ever. I was sitting in the Holiday Inn, London, one Saturday in May. Joy for Arsenal, heartbreak for one young
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