Have you ever wished an opposition player would join your team? Well this fan once dreamt Arsenal legend Champagne Charlie would score for Liverpool.
Being a glory hunter Liverpool fan from London, I don't expect any sympathy for the pang of envy I felt as a ten-year-old in the summer of 1983. Charlie Nicholas. To today's generation he is the odd Scottish guy off Jeff Stelling's Soccer Saturday who should lose the earring but in that sweltering summer of '83 he was as hot as Michael Jackson's Thriller, the cassette that we all had on our Sony Walkmans (Ok I had a Sanyo but you know what I mean).
The previous season, Nicholas had scored 50 odd goals for Celtic and every Saturday morning, Football Focus' Scottish bit (basically two minutes near the end!) involved Archie McPherson's orgasmic tones greeting another Nicholas goal.
Nicholas had his pick of clubs. Manchester United, Inter Milan and my lot at Anfield. I smuggly told anyone who would listen in the playground that he was coming to Liverpool where he would make the perfect duo (Kenny Dalglish and Ian Rush) into the stupidly perfect trio. Every day I ran to my dad's paper, turned it over and expected the news and one day it came. He was off to Arsenal. Arsenal??? That boring team managed by Terry Neil boasting a strike-force that included Lee Chapman and some guy called Raphael Meade.
Nicholas had his pick of clubs. Manchester United, Inter Milan and my lot at Anfield. I smuggly told anyone who would listen in the playground that he was coming to Liverpool.
I didn't understand. My dad mentioned that the nightlife in London was better suited to a guy with an earring (looked ok then!!) but I was that young that nightlife meant an episode of the Six Million Dollar Man but old enough to think a striker with a wedge haircut and his ear pierced should be at my club. Devastated.
Nicholas chose Arsenal, he chose Stringfellows and he chose Page 3 girls (and Suzanne Dando I think who I really fancied). Was he though, happy? I was once I saw that he was, as they say in Glasgow, pure s****e and that my club instead had bought Michael Robinson from Brighton.
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