I stared out of the long tunnel and looked at the line of red and white clad people behind me. I was leading them out into the arena, a champion of nine years of age with his heroes following. To my left: Southampton F.C. captain Jason Dodd, and to his left: Newcastle United and England captain Alan Shearer. I stood there smiling, SKY TV cameras in my face, I couldn't let the nerves settle in now. I looked up at the sign above me: 'Welcome to the Dell, home of The Saints.' I turned back to my idols, then back to the view of ground ahead of me. 15,000 supporters, bellowing their hearts out. Cheering their team on. And here I was, representing them, representing my team, leading them out. I was their mascot.
The story of the day doesn't start there though, in fact it starts a month or so before when I was playing football down my local recreation centre, as I did every Saturday morning. Wearing my brand, spanking new Saints shirt, I weaved my way through the defenders, leaving them eating my dust. Or something like that, I don't think I was ever as good as I imagined I was. Although I am now, obviously. Anyway, my mum came bounding into the hall with a look of excitement on her voice, exclaiming that I had been chosen to be a mascot. Admittedly, at the time she was more excited than me.
When the big day arrived it hit me: I was going to be playing football, actually kicking a ball about, at The Dell. It was a dream come true and I was only nine. What else could I aspire to? Wembley? Well, in hindsight that dream ended the day I was put on as a substitute for Totton Rangers, then subbed off 5 minutes later, at the very tender age of 12. I still can't fathom why that happened, I'd put in a couple of good crosses and created a few opportunities. All I can think of is that the manager had favourites. I can recall the guy replacing me actually not being in the team, but a close friend of his son. Bastards.
The 'Junior Saints' were the children's membership group for the club; every year I'd receive a birthday card from Matt Le Tissier, a god among men, and it was they who had chosen me to be the mascot for the visit of Newcastle. I walked into their small office and was given a brand new Saints kit in the correct size, my mum must've told them unless they were psychic. I knew this was going to happen so I brought my old shirt with me to get signed.
I forget his name, but I met up with the guide and we set off for the tour of the ground. It was nothing like I'd expected, but the building was clearly very, very old. I had some ultra-modern, state of the art arena in mind, but having been to the ground a great number of times, I don't know why I thought that. Inside the corridors were very narrow, very claustrophobic. The floors were red, the walls white. That much was understandable seeing as the team play in those colours. Surprisingly, the gym was no bigger than your average school hall, it was very modest to say the least.
En route to meeting the players, the guide asked me if I'd like to meet the manager: Glen Hoddle. Of course I did! This bloke was the former (though disgraced) England manager and now the manager of my troops, of course I wanted to meet him. I was lead up to his office where I had my photo with him and got a weird squiggle on my shirt.
Next up: The changing rooms, where my heroes would get ready for action. I remember gulping as I looked up at the sign above the door; it was a very unnatural and forced noise but at the age of nine I guess I thought it would make it all the more epic. I stepped foot inside and was introduced to every player individually. I knew all their names, bar one, Matt Oakley, who's still playing today. I think this was the second time I met Le Tissier and I've met him many more since. The bloke's everywhere but I don't care, he is the ultimate of the ultimate, the Batman to the Green Lantern. His heroic status was the pinnacle.
Having met the 'lads' I had another surprise install, albeit an unplanned one. I didn't want to meet any of the Newcastle players - Shearer aside, they were nobodies to me. I lingered outside their changing room when out of the room behind me emerged Alan Shearer and the legend himself, Sir Bobby Robson. Since the death of Robson, this is a moment that I look back on with grand pride; for now I realise the status of the man, giving me the opportunity to use hindsight to improve the moment for me. He asked me who my favourite Newcastle player was, a joke I'm sure but I said it was Shearer because he was a trainee with Saints. They both chuckled. I was funnier back then.
When the clock struck 2:55, I walked down the tunnel. The rest, as they say, is history. For me anyway.
About four years later I was having a tour of the new Saints stadium: St. Mary's, when we entered the sadly empty trophy room. It had a few trophies in the cabinet, but the use of a room was a bit unnecessary at the time. Turning to my right, I noticed a black and white photo framed neatly on the wall. Beaming back at me was my nine year old self leading my team out with pride. I had no idea how this photo got on the wall, or even why they chose it; but all I knew was that this was a moment that equalled that day. The memories flooded back.
Again, a few years later, I was doing work experience at the stadium with the Community team. There I worked with the guide from that day who recognised me instantly. He told me my photo was still up, yet I was to be shocked again: it was no longer hanging on it's own in the trophy room. It now hung with pride behind the Chairman's seat in the boardroom.
My dad fought with the club to get a copy of the image baring his son, but his approaches were repeatedly turned down as contact had been lost with the photographer who owned the copyright. As luck would have it, my aunt and uncle knew a steward who worked for Saints back in September 2000. He managed to get hold of the photo at the time, he then gave it to Jason Dodd to sign, who then, out of the kindness of his heart, took it to Newcastle with him in the return fixture to get Alan Shearer to sign it as well. This was a gift to me for my 18th birthday, it now sits on my wall with equal pride as the one that was in the stadium. I have no idea if it still swings there, but what I do know is that the future's bright, it's red and white.
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