This week I did something I haven’t done for years.
I needed to visit the RVI and because I can’t drive for six months, as the city was waking up I found myself walking up from central station to the hospital.
Starting at O’Neills (or whatever it’s called these days) to Tilleys bar and the Bodega where I spent a lot of the 1990s , to the Stack, which I have never set foot in.
Finally passing the Strawberry, before heading to my destination.
I found myself getting extremely sentimental and nostalgic as I walked up the hill to St James’ Park, remembering so many places that meant something to me.
From a long gone greasy spoon near Rosie’s bar where as a 10 year old in 1969 I would play on the pinball, while my dad ordered the hot dogs.
From the long gone betting shop where in 1997 I put my five quid Tino hat-trick and 3-1 bet on which won me a fortune.
Well, it very nearly won me a fortune!
From the post-match celebration in the Bodega in January 1996 after we beat Bolton (I think), to put us 14 points clear. I can still hear the words of my admittedly very drunk mate saying “There is absolutely no %&£# way we can blow this now.
Thirty years on and it still hurts.
From the space that is now covered by the Stack and the Metro, where in the early eighties I got caught up in a really big clash between us and Chelsea fans which seemed to go on for ages. That was until they suddenly decided to stop and go, because they had a train to catch.
Very surreal.
I constantly found myself stopping and smiling to myself, remembering stuff that means nowt to anyone else.
I even took the time to take a tour around the ground, recognising the entrance gates that I used for the four different season ticket seats I have had.
Finally, I realised I was going to be late if I didn’t get a move on, so off I went, but sitting in the hospital waiting room, I asked myself why on earth had I got so emotional about a load of concrete.
However, for us all, it is not just a load of concrete, it is more than that. Much more than that.
Each one of you have daft irrelevant memories of the ground, just like me.
I love the place, as much as any place on earth, but as I passed the Gallowgate on my return journey, I realised that it has to go. It’s time to move on.
Now being selfish, I hope that it never happens, but it’s now clear to me that if we stay, there is very little hope of us ever taking the next step up the ladder.
Even if the new build could start tomorrow, it could be three years, and in reality a new ground could be five or six years away and that is if we are lucky.
How far behind financially will we be by then?
My generation would then spend the rest of our time on this planet moaning about the new soulless dome that we play in, but I think that the majority of you would be able to move on and not look back.
Do Arsenal bang on about Highbury?
Do Man City bang on about Maine Road?
Do Spurs bang on about White Haart Lane ?
Do West Ham bang on about Upton Park?
Ok, the last one is the exception that makes the rule, but you get the point.
Things change whether we want them to or not.
I really really hate what the multinational online delivery companies have done to local business and yet I use them, which makes me a hypocritical halfwit.
But it’s how things are.
So there may come a time when the next Jinky (obviously writing under the name Hatem Ben Arfa), will write his memories of the Shark Club, Tesco Express and the Vape Bar, on their walk up Barrack Road.
We shall see.