And finally, a poetic account of the winning goal from Les Wilson:-

It had been long and and dour battle. The Cavalier forces, out- manned but not out-gunned, had endured the guerilla tactics and war of attrition carried out by the savage enemy. But there were doubts whether they could survive an extended campaign. It had to be finished now.

Carr foils a Roundhead attack but instead of clearing the lines he takes the fight to the enemy. Past one, then another, and an accurate connection to Ferdinand. Instant control and pass finds Iversen on the right. Suddenly forty thousand spectators hush. For the first time the 10-men have a one-on-one situation. Young legs against old.

On and on speeds the Norwegian warrior. Each pace takes seconds, possibly minutes, yet the gap between him and Walsh increases. The forty thousand start to lift out of their seats. On and on pounds Iversen.

Pre-orgasmic sounds are heard all around..."Yes! Yes!, Come On, Come On!" People are nearly standing now and still the blonde haired avenger homes in on the opposition goal. How long has this all taken?

Suddenly time speeds up as he pulls the trigger. And then instantly stops again as the keeper's hand makes contact with the ball. Every one of the forty thousand is now standing. There is more silence except for the sound of deep intakes of breath. It hangs in the air for ever as blue shirts swarm round to clear.

But wait. Amongst the static blue shirts comes a white thunderbolt throwing himself horizontally at the ephemeral orb hanging in space. And then time returns to normal. The net bulges as Neilsen scores. The sound of forty thousand berserkers simultaneously occur.

One-Nil to the Tottenham!

Les (With apologies to Stephen Hawking)

· Brian Judson's preview

Read the further accounts from:-
Paul Smith
Ivan Cohen
Brian Judson
Dave Gallagher

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