WHAT AN UNSUITABLE WAY TO CELEBRATE WINNING THE TITLE
EVERTON’S second title in three seasons 30 years ago was one of the greatest achievements in the club’s history.
But our celebrations were marred by a ferocious game with Luton and it all kicked off in the tunnel afterwards.
We had won the title with two games to spare after a 1-0 win at Norwich and were so happy (above right, celebrating with boss Howard Kendall), we wanted the coach journey home to last forever.
It took us hours to get back and somewhere along the way Ian Snodin fell asleep, which was a big mistake.
His missus was due to meet him at a service station, but as long as he was in the Land of Nod he was our property. Someone produced a pair of scissors and the lads cut his suit up.
He didn’t feel a thing. As we approached the services, the lads shouted “Snods, we’re here” and as he stood up, still half asleep, his whole suit dropped around his ankles.
But there were fewer smiles after we were presented with the League trophy after our next game. It wasn’t that we weren’t delighted to win the title again, but we’d had it off with Luton in earlier matches and the bad blood spilled over after we beat them 3-1, with Graeme Sharp (above, centre) scoring our third.
It was a brutal game with Peter Nicholas getting sent off for them and it TWO things stuck in my mind from the first time I played against my future England captain Bryan Robson – his curly perm and just how good a footballer he was.
Robbo was also top of the table when it came to sinking jars of ale. He remains great company and is undoubtedly up there as one of the best players – and drinkers – that I have known.
If there was a league table of drinkers, Robbo would be up there with Terry McDermott (above, centre). Without giving away state secrets, those two would finish joint-top, although if brandy were involved, Sam Allardyce (right) would take some beating.
The big thing with all of those lads who enjoyed a bevvy was that they all got up the next day and did their jobs, and did them incredibly well. We played hard but we did enjoy the social side – we still do.
I used to go to the Quarry Green social club in Kirkby with Robbo and went off in the tunnel. As usual, I made my mark by having a go at big Mick Harford, who had a fearsome reputation, thrusting the trophy towards him and shouting: “Have a f ****** look at that because you won’t win it yourself.”
Mick hadn’t even been playing, so God knows why I picked on him, but worse was to come – when we were called up by England at the same time.
Recognising diplomacy is the better part of valour, I had a word with Bryan Robson and told him to get us out on the bevvy to smooth things over.
After about six pints everything was fine and Mick remains a good friend. I just don’t mention trophies when I see him. Terry and there was one Sunday session in particular that was infamous.
We had already had a good go when last orders came, but there was no chance that we wanted to finish – so all three of us went to the bar and, between us, we ordered 50 pints.
It’s a sight that will live with me forever. Three men, already full up on ale, with 50 pints in front of us.
Looking back, I would say it was too much, but knowing Robbo and Terry, they would probably say it wasn’t quite enough.
Cheer Up Peter Reid, Trinity Mirror Sport Media, RRP £18.99. On sale from Oct 5 from Amazon, bookshops and sportmediashop. com. Ebook also available