Memories of 88-89 - Archive

To commemorate Arsenal’s dramatic winning of the League at the very end of the 1988-89 season, AISA invited supporters to share their memories of that amazing night and the season that led to it.

Guy

As an Anfield '89 veteran, nothing since that wonderful night has surpassed the ecstatic football memories I treasure of leaping around that corner of the Anfield Road end after Mickey put the ball in the Scousers' net.
But on quiet reflection I can't help feeling almost as smug for being one of the few remaining in the North Bank when Alan Smith scored in the dying seconds against Derby County 13 days earlier.

As embarrassed applause greeted what everyone assumed was a 'consolation goal' seconds before the ref blew for a 1-2 home defeat, little did we know just how important that goal, as all of our goals that season turned out to be.

We won the league, On Merseyside....!!

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Graham

I watched the match on tv but reading Guy's account of the Derby match reminded me of the West Ham v Liverpool game - Liverpool's last match before they met us for the famous encounter. We had faint hopes that WH might do something because - I think - they needed a win to avoid relegation.

Things were going well - WH were holding up but then Liverpool broke their defences and the goals came - I seem to recall 5-1 or 6-1 to Liverpool leaving us with the famous two clear goals to win the League.

Just as Guy felt joy as Alan Smith scored against Derby so I was mortified as telelext recorded a casacade of goals as Liverpool romped home - winning the league seemed remote but then Lukic, Dixon, Smith and Thomas.....

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Graham S

I remember thumping Spurs pre-season and then their new darling Gazza in a 10 minute first half blitz at White Hart Lane. No doubt who had the upper hand in North London.

Then the opening day salvo against Wimbledon.

The amazing game against Southampton where we were 2 down in a nasty game. Late on the ref failed to send off Davis after he smacked Cockerill and then gave us a joke penalty and played injury time until we equalized in about the 8th minute. Can we have that ref every week?

Battling Liverpool in the league cup and the bizarre Mercantile tournament. This proved we were serious players.

Being cheated at (then) league leaders Norwich when the ref made Marwood take a penalty twice.

The re-opening of the Clock End with Mickey T’s cheeky second at the death against Spurs.

Paul Davis goal of the season against Charlton.

The Mirror's "donkey" Adams after the Man U draw.

Anger turning to horror as we learnt what was happening at Hillsborough and the surreal second half against Newcastle where it no longer mattered.

Thrashing Norwich - surely we had it won!

Chucking it away against Derby and Wimbledon along with Liverpool's inexorable charge to what they thought was their double as they won every single post Hillsborough match in their league and cup run in.

The seven hour coach trip to Anfield on a hot day at the end of May. The close first half - we have a chance here! Smudgers goal and Liverpool's protests. Mickey's goal. From where I sat behind the goal he looked as though he was going through on goal for some way. I knew he would do what he did against Spurs and seeing it go over Grobelaar and knowing it was in before it hit the net. Post-match some Scousers were sporting; others behaved badly.

Massive numbers still at Highbury when the coaches got back. The joy, disbelief and the debris around Highbury that morning.

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 Anon

I was living in Washington DC and in those pre-Sky and pre-internet days all we had to rely on were days' old English newspapers, or the World Service of the BBC.

I was working for one of the only international satellite companies and, if the game was to be broadcast live in North America, we would be carrying it. We weren't. Undaunted, I left work at about 2pm (7pm UK time) to seek out those few bars that had dish TV back then. No luck - and the local victuallers looked at me as though I was from another planet when I explained what I was looking for.

It must have been about half-time by now. So I hurried home and thought that at times like this one can always rely on the tried and trusted BBC World Service. All they had on was something about as useful as "A History of Lint in pre-Roman Times". By the time I'd finished smashing the side of the radio the game was over, so I nervously called home and got the result. Joyous though it was, it's not the same as actually witnessing events is it?

But I had a nice surprise waiting for me in the office the following Monday morning. There was a message on my phone from a colleague in London who hates Arsenal, who had called while watching the game at home. His scorn was clearly so great that he couldn't wait for the final whistle. His message sarcastically stated what a heroic effort the lads had put in, but all for nought. Then I heard:"Oh sh*t, they've scored..." Click.

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 Mike G

I was getting married in July ‘89 so we were saving hard for the occasion. I told my fiance that I had put £100 on Arsenal to beat Liverpool 2-0 at 16-1. There was no reaction!!

We sat down to watch the match but I just couldn’t bear to watch so I continuously walked in and out of the room. 1-0 to us and the tension was unbearable. I continued to pace around the house and finally came to rest in my seat with 10 minutes to go.

Thomas scores - both of us are on our feet. I drop to my knees and shout "this is the best thing to happen in my life", look up at my fiancee, her mouth has dropped and I diplomatically and quickly added "sporting wise!"

I then had to stop my fiance from spending the winnings that we didnt have; I didn’t actually put the bet on as I thought she would kill me for spending so much money so close to the wedding. What a year! Fortunately, the love affair goes on. And I am still married.

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Gary P

I remember feeling extremely fortunate and excited to be one of the fans with a ticket. We left Highbury in a huge train of coaches and were applauded by fellow Gooners as we left, and at various points down the Holloway Road. The traffic was so bad I was seriously worried that I would miss the game entirely. Relief when we were dropped off close to the ground although we still missed a few minutes of the game, but there in time to see Steve Bould go close with a header.

The game was a rollercoaster of nervous excitement, but the longer it went on a belief grew that we could win it. The ecstasy when Alan Smith glanced in the first and then some near misses, notably Mickey Thomas missing a one-on-one with Grobbelaar.

Thinking we probably wouldn't get another chance like it. Time running out but not knowing how long was left; no boards telling us how long left in those days. Then that moment I will never forget. The ball played through and Thomas surging through the midfield. It really did seem to happen in slow motion, he made no mistake this time - GOAL! The best feeling after scoring a goal I've ever had, nothing comes close.

Bodies everywhere, screaming, shouting, hugging and kissing friends and strangers, all united in the feeling that we'd pulled off the greatest league win in history. The cheering never stopped until well after Tony lifted the trophy. The journey home flew past, hardly believing what had happened. People were still dancing in the streets around Highbury when we returned in the early hours, to continue celebrating in the Supporters Club well into the next day. It doesn't get any better.

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David D

I was travelling with a mate up to Harrogate that night for a stag weekend, and sat in his car clutching my radio, kicking every ball and hoping against hope. My mate had only a passing interest in the result, being a Leyton Orient fan. At 1-0, I was disappointed that we would lose the title by such a small margin, but proud of the boys for playing so well. Then Mickey scored the winner and I nearly went through the roof of the car! The stag weekend was spent with a lager constantly in my hand and a bloody great smile on my face!

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Anon

A regular attender of most Gunners matches since 1959, I had decided to give up my chance of a visit to Anfield. Why? I was totally brassed off with us throwing away a seemingly invincible lead in the championship, and was forecasting to anyone who would listen that irony of ironies, we WOULD beat the Scousers, but by only one goal (remember they hadn't lost at home for over a season).

I sat alone, with a bottle of wine watching the TV. I merely shrugged when Smith got the first, and when Thomas missed his first one on one with Grobelaar, was resigned, with no satisfaction, to realising my prediction.

Mickey went on to score that goal, I screamed the house down, the wife came running in convinced I was being assaulted by intruders, my son Craig, 5 at the time, ill in bed with chicken pox, came in crying his eyes out "why did you wake me dad?”.

After promising him a super duper toy, and the wife a brand new car, it was off to Highbury to polish off copious amounts of celebratory vino!

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 Ronnie E

The first petrol station outside of Liverpool was awash with Gooners, singing and dancing on top of petrol pumps. A bit later somewhere on the M1 a huge coach whizzes by us and we realise it’s the boys. We pull up along side them going at 90 miles per hour and Smudger, Tony and Lee Dixon all smile and wave. Paul Merson is standing in the gangway with a bottle of champagne in one hand and the Championship trophy in the other. The Championship trophy!

We got back to Richmond in the early hours of the morning emotionally exhausted. Lee was right. We had won...and they could never take that away from us. It seems like yesterday.

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 Sarah

May 26th 1989 was an odd day to win the league. For a start it was a Friday and was a surprisingly warm day, so much so, that when I left for Richmond for the drive to Anfield at about 12.30pm I was kitted out in just a T shirt and shorts.

That morning I had been wearing my Arsenal top in Richmond town centre and had been surprised by the number of people who had come up to me and wished me good luck for the game as if I, in some way, could influence the outcome of the match. After years of northern dominance, there was definitely a feeling that it was about time the trophy came south. Liverpool were going for their second double in two years and despite the fact we had to win by two clear goals, for some reason, I was quietly confident.

The pressure was off us to a certain extent as no-one north of Watford thought we were in with a shout. ‘Boys versus Men’ the back of a tabloid had boasted that morning. Legend has it that George Graham cut it out and stuck it to the wall of the Arsenal dressing room.

Because it was a Friday night and it was also a bank holiday weekend, the traffic on the motorways was horrendous. I drove up with my mate Lee in his car he affectionately called Rusty and to this day I’m still amazed that car made it all the way there and back. The traffic jam was so bad that at one point I actually got out of the car on the M6 and stretched my legs.

Eventually after seven hours of driving, we found ourselves in sight of Anfield with only ten minutes to kick-off. Double parking Rusty, we sprinted to the ground and found the away end practically empty. It seems that the 25 coaches carrying Arsenal fans were still stuck in traffic on the motorway. The match was delayed until an 8.15pm kick off, which gave us time to go and get a programme.

By now, the away end was filling up and we were all packed in like sardines in to a standing area in one corner of the ground. Just before kick-off, the Arsenal boys ran out each holding a bouquet of flowers and handed them to members of the crowd. The Kop were singing ‘you’ll never walk alone ’ at the tops of their voices and we retorted with ‘just like the team that’s gonna win the football league…we shall not be moved…we shall not, we shall not be moved, we shall not …’. The atmosphere was crackling.

We had to win by two clear goals. It was as simple as that. We played three across the back; O’Leary, Tony A and Bouldy. That allowed Lee and Nigel to make sprinting runs down the wings. Half - time. No goals conceded. No goals scored. All to play for and still feeling confident.

Second half the boys are shooting down our end and we’re awarded an indirect free kick. In it comes and Smudger gets what seems to be a glancing header to it and it flies past Grobelaar in to the goal! The 2,000 Gooners packed in the corner go crazy – but hang on, the Liverpool players are surrounding the Ref and protesting. He runs to the linesman and they discuss the incident for what feels like an eternity. Come on Ref, give the goal! It’s a goal! He points to the centre circle and gives the goal! We’ve scored! Smudger has scored! More delirious leaping around.

The rest of the second half goes so quickly. The Anfield faithful seem nervous. They know that another goal and it’s ours. But if they score, then they win the Championship. Somehow, that night, we just had more belief. ‘Just like the team that’s gonna win the football league, we shall not be moved’. The minutes are ticking by now and for some reason my watchstrap breaks and I fiddle around with it for a bit and eventually shove my watch in to my pocket. I have no idea now, just how quickly the time is going. ‘We shall not, we shall not be moved’.

And then Dixon plays an inch perfect long ball upfield and Smudger collects and swivels and runs it in to the path of Mickey Thomas. It seems to bounce off the heel of a Liverpool player and suddenly Mickey is clear, bearing down on the Liverpool goal with just Grobelaar to beat and there are five Liverpool players right behind him…and then. For a moment all I can hear is myself breathing and I have time to think, ‘if this goes in …if this GOES IN!…we’re gonna go mad!’.

And I take a deep, deep breath and my stomach lurches and I hold my breath and hold it, and for a moment, just for a moment, the Liverpool fans are silent and the Arsenal fans are silent and I’m staring at the ball and I’m staring at Mickey and then the ball is leaving Mickey’s foot and very slowly, so, so slowly, it’s going past Grobellaar’s left hand and in to the BOTTOM CORNER OF THE NET! We go mad! ‘Just like the team that’s gonna win the football league, we shall not be moved…WE SHALL NOT WE SHALL NOT BE MOVED, WE SHALL NOT WE SHALL NOT BE MOVED.’

I’m trying to calm myself as I think there’s at least ten minutes to go and Lee is shouting ‘he’s gonna blow the whistle, HE’S GONNA BLOW THE WHISTLE! They can never take this away from us’. And I’m aware of bare-chested grown men, on this warm balmy night, hugging each other and crying. I’m trying to focus on Tony lifting the trophy but my tears blur my vision.

We finally leave the ground and on our way back to the car we walk past an old Liverpool programme seller. ‘Well done’ he says ‘Well done to The Arsenal’.

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 Peter F

I got off the train at Godalming from work about half hour before kick off and met an Arsenal mate with his wife that had been on the same train. I asked him if he was coming to the pub to watch it? He glanced at the missus who gave him a dirty look, and replied “no chance and besides I've got a family get together tonight”.

I met another Gooner in the pub where we were outnumbered about 25 (mainly Chelsea) to 3. A portable tv had been put on a table under the dart board (!) and we had the front row centre seats. I remember thinking we wouldn’t win, but that we would not lose either; we drank pints of Holsten (surely not Tottenham beer, maybe they weren't sponsors back then) very fast and very nervously.

It was all very similar to the film Fever Pitch, when Thomas missed his first clean through chance, we both said that was it. Then Pleat started prattling on while Richardson was down, both of said at the same time, as the film did and I still do now "shut up Pleat".

Then the moment of orgasm; the one second before Thomas kicks and scores seeming like over a minute, then ecstacy, beer everywhere, didn't look first at my mate, jumped up over to a Chelsea mate, gave him a big slap on both cheeks with both hands and shouted his name, he swore at me (fair enough) and left the pub. I grabbed my mate who was doing similar elsewhere and prayed for the whistle.

Less than 10 minutes after the final whistle the mate from the train was in the pub a mile away from where he was, saying he knew we would win! 2 others came in shortly after, we drank ‘til 3.15 at my place watching Arsenal videos. I was up the same morning at 6.45 for the early shift and the best hangover of my life.

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 Bob C

It took 5 hours to get to Anfield from Haynes in Bedfordshire; the traffic on the M6 was horrendous. In fact the terrace was only half full at kick-off; there must have been a lot of Gunners supporters still on the motorway. When Michael scored the goal it seemed as everything was in slow motion and just as the ball struck the back of the net, a massive great bloke in a blue overcoat grabbed me and kept kissing me and we ended up rolling down the terrace locked together ........ never mind, it was the greatest goal in our history ........ and to the eternal credit of the Kop they stayed behind and applauded our team as we paraded the 1st division trophy. We should always remember their true sportsmanship.

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 Dave

I have a slightly different memory. I went on a holiday a few days before the Anfield game and set the video recorder to record the match. I spent the next 10 days in Europe avoiding British newspapers and any other possibility of finding out the score. When I got home there had been a power cut prior to the game and the video had lost its memory, so it hadn't been recorded. I then found it nigh on impossible to find out the result and eventually found the final league table on Ceefax, which I stared at in disbelief. The rest is history.

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Kerry

I was 12 at the time and went with my family to my Dad’s friend’s house to watch the match.

I just remember the flowers pre-kick-off, Smudger’s glancing header, Kevin Richardson rolling around, Mickey Thomas charging through the midfield and of course the barrage of horns beeping outside all of the darkened Tottenham households that we knew on our route home.

The amazing parade outside Highbury (which I’d attach my photos of if I wasn’t too embarrassed at the state of my barnet) was just unbelievable, the atmosphere stayed with me for life, and I’m now an avid fan and season ticket holder of 10 years, with a son of 3 who is being brainwashed by me and my fellow Gooner husband.

Happy days.

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 Gary

A Liverpool friend said “Liverpool will prove they are still the best and it’s a foregone conclusion, but well played, your team are just not good enough". Morning papers proclaiming “men against boys”. John Sadler – “giving it to us straight” - in The Sun, “Barnes, Rush, Houghton, Grobelaar, McMahon, and Beardsley; who have Arsenal got? Perry Groves.”

I didn’t think we would win, probably miss 2 or 3 sitters and get done by a sucker punch, but hey it’s a day out and I wanted to show the team that it had been a brilliant season. I wore my yellow Arsenal shirt; we were going on a pilgrimage. There were only coaches, no trains, BR cancelled them. Our coach was number 17, we left at 12.45pm with a police escort up the Holloway Road. Everyone were waving and standing outside the shops, people in cars, lorries, leaning out of windows giving us support.

An hour later we were not even on the M1! The traffic was murder, start, stop 5-10 mph for over another hour. An accident, road works, you name it, our journey was painfully slow. The coaches were “dry” but someone had smuggled a 2 litre lemonade bottle on and was passing it around - it was half full with gin!

The coach toilet didn’t have a light and I was mid slash when the driver decided to cut down a slip road on to a roundabout and back up on to the motorway to beat about 200 cars. Everyone cheered, but I was thrown all over the place, and came back out through the door backwards with an embarrassing damp patch down one leg.

We arrived in Liverpool just before kick-off, on the opposite side of Stanley Park, and hot-footed it across the grass only to be greeted by stone and bottle throwing locals; some as old as 14. Welcome to Liverpool.

I was in the terraces in the corner, roughly half way up and directly in line with the goal-line. Our support was 1001%, the noise was deafening, Tony Adams emerged with the other lads with flowers and ran to every part of the ground. Nice touch.

Then he gestured to us to sing our hearts out. The tension was intense; there wasn’t a single minute the Scousers or us weren’t singing. It got to such a point that my ears were ringing. We played the ball about well and everyone was singing.

Winterburn, free kick, confusion, Smith is there, it bounces, it’s in the NET… we erupt as one and go ape shit. Suddenly someone isn’t jumping up and down anymore, staring at the pitch; the Liverpool players surround the Ref. Silence, then his arm points to the centre circle. We go absolutely mental. A man who resembled Buster Blood Vessel grabbed me and just screamed "yeeeeeessssss". It went on and on. Then, as one we sang “Ar-senal , Ar-senal”.

Liverpool were all back passing and no real emphasis on winning; just not losing 2-0. That was their downfall. We were attacking but sometimes leaving our back wide open. Barnes, Houghton and Beardsley all wasted good chances. The Kop started singing “Champions, Champions”, time ebbing away, they got louder, a couple of minutes left, Richardson went down, trainer on, The Kop were whistling, absolutely deafening.

Lukic to Dixon, Dixon to Smith, Smith to Thomas, someone lunges in, the ball comes back off Thomas' shin. He advances towards goal, Grobelaar comes out, goes down, Thomas flicks it and everything is in slow motion. All I know is the ball is going towards that goal. Whether it’s in or not, I don’t know. Then the net billows.

Mayhem is an understatement. The hairs on my body felt like cold nails! GOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLL, in one long, never-ending noise, it was quite unimaginable. Hugging, kissing, jumping up and down. The ref blows the final whistle. Grown men crying and I thought I had experienced everything emotionally but this blew my mind. A super feeling of camaraderie with every Gooner there, I got up on a barrier - standing with arms held wide and proud - head tilted back thanking God, eyes closed, just soaking it all in. To the Scousers credit, those that stayed clapped us. We, as one, singing “Boring, Boring, Arsenal” over and over again. David O’Leary was in tears.

We sang all the way home. Arriving at Highbury at 2.40 a.m. a few Gooners remained, still partying. The floor was ankle deep in beer tins, champagne bottles - what a party that must have been! My voice recovered two days later. Champions! What can possibly beat that for a finale to a season? Nothing. So proud to have been there.

p.s. - John Saddler and the Sun - up yours!

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 Anon

Let’s face it, after two results of our home games against Derby and Charlton, only George Graham and a soothsayer from Southern Somalia knew we could get a result at Anfield. A ticket purchased earlier that month for the standing enclosure was now proverbial gold dust.

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 Nick

In the office, on the afternoon of the game, with all the closet Scousers confidently smiling and telling me how it was their title, I sketched a drawing of Paul Merson scoring the winner past Grobelaar.

I remember the flowers before the game, Steve McMahon’s ‘one minute!’, the immortal words of the late Brian Moore, ‘Michael Thomas breaking through the midfield’.

I leapt high when Mickey T scored that goal and when I landed, I had to catch the TV which fell off it’s perch. I thought I’d broken my arms, it was so heavy.

Saw Tony lift the trophy, then on my motorbike on the streets around Highbury carrying flag waving pillion-passengers, with the East Stand clad in scaffolding and with fans climbing all over it, we had the celebration to end all celebrations.”

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 Rob

I was 13 at the time. The delayed fixture clashed with the start of school half-term, and my parents were taking my brother and me to Switzerland to visit our grandmother.

So when the game kicked off, instead of being installed in front of a TV we were at 33,000 feet somewhere over France. Those were the days when kids could go and visit the cockpit, but all we were interested in was the score. The captain did not oblige.

In those days the Swiss had little interest in football, so it was 2 days later before we got to find out the result from a German TV channel. My Dad was translating the commentary as best as his O-level German would allow. Steve McMahon’s finger-wag didn’t need any interpretation. By then I was sure our chance had gone.

But moments later we were dancing with delight in my grandmother’s flat. She had wood floors, and we must have made a racket because the neighbours came up to check everything was ok.

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Robert I

We decided to watch the game at home and I had already made up my mind to be magnanimous in defeat and had my speech ready about Liverpool being the best team over the season blah, blah.

When Smith scored the tension in the room was palpable. I was resigned to the fact we had come close but failed when Steve MacMahon started wagging a single finger in the air. One minute.

My wife turned to me. ‘You did well and deserved to get the result on the night but you have to admit we were the best team over the season.’ I was about to agree when Michael Thomas stormed through the middle.

I leapt up, fell to the floor and rolled around like a breakdancer, screaming all the time. When I came to I realised my wife was no longer in the room and vaguely recollected that the front door had slammed while I was on the floor.

She came back about twenty minutes later and mumbled the speech I had rehearsed earlier. For the sake of marital harmony I haven’t mentioned that night since.

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Paul G

I had tried to get away from the game for the weekend - my belief that we could go to the fortress that Anfield was back then, and get a 2-0 was low.

So we booked a kayaking holiday in Shropshire, paddling merrily from Welshpool to Shrewsbury over a long weekend, stopping at pubs and camping on route. But when the night of the match came we ended up in a pub; the match was turned on and out of the woodwork in a instant the pub was full of Scousers, there was an air of confidence and celebration about them.

I was not in colours and in a mixed party with my wife, a Leicester City fan, and a Shrewsbury Town fan - so I was on my own. All I remember is Smudgers glanced header and the TV cameras zooming in on McMahon and Barnes exchanging a sly congratulatory handshake on winning the league.

But then Thomas did the business and I went mad - the room fell silent and I had a American Werewolf in London moment. I didn't care - we were back, a proper big club again, winning the league again. We'd won the league on Merseyside - they can never take that moment away from us or hurt us as badly as we hurt them that night - and I still love it. Magic, pure magic."

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Adam G

I'd just turned 11 and it was the year I became a true Arsenal fanatic. I ignored lessons to read Arsenal books, and pored over statistics like any footie-mad kid.

Strangely, I had it in my head at that age that, like the FA Cup, the League was decided in a final between the two top teams in the division. And even more strangely, that year it was. I followed the run-in with every emotion going, as we thrashed a very decent Norwich side 5-0, then slipped up badly at home to Derby, going down 2-1.

All that however set up the unbelievable climax at Anfield. I was at my grandparents' home in North London, a house full of the Gooners in the family. I'd had a 50p bet with a Liverpool fan at school - a massive amount of money in those days for a 11 year-old.

Liverpool were a force to reckoned with, especially John Barnes at the peak of his powers, while we were an unfancied team of unglamorous players - real underdogs. The first goal - Adams falls in the penalty area but Smith glances it in - and our house erupts.

Then Lukic, Dixon, Smith and Thomas. "Thomas, it's up for grabs nowwwwww!" I'll take the feeling of that goal going in to my grave. My family, bouncing around the living room, things going flying - no one could have expected it to end like that. We became the most unlikely champions ever - the League stolen off the mighty Liverpool team of the 80s at their own ground.

That's not just what supporting Arsenal is all about, it's what following football is all about. Arguably the greatest ever single moment in the English game. And it was us who were part of it.

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Malcolm M

I was running a pub in The City during that season; its location meant that in those days it was shut weekends, so I was able to go to every game, home and away.

Of course the Anfield match was played on a Friday night, of all days - which is the busiest session for a City pub - so that was the only game that I didn't go to all season.

I dragged the portable TV downstairs from my accommodation above the pub, and placed it on the bar - facing inwards - so that I could serve pints to the punters as I watched the game.

One of my bar staff, Ron, was also a Gooner, so there was quite a bit of spillage that night between us as we watched and poured. No one gave us a chance. You just didn't go to Anfield and win in those days, and we hadn't won the league in my living memory.

When Mickey T burst through the Liverpool defence Ron had disappeared to the cellar to change a barrel, resigned to the reality that we were gallant runners up - not knowing that it "was up for grabs now"...

The two pints of Tennants Extra that I was carrying went up in the air as I slid along the floor on my knees towards the portable behind the bar. Both Mickey and I finished upside down as I had nowhere to jump and I rebounded off a bottle fridge full of Budweiser bottles.

In a few uncontrollable seconds, I lost the respect of my bar staff as they witnessed a side of me not visible to them previously. I sat with a few of them until the early hours after we had thrown the punters out, drinking myself into a happy, disbelieving oblivion. The memories are still crystal clear - despite the self-induced alcoholic hammering.

Today, Gooners expect to be winning the league, whereas for my generation this was something new - a never to be repeated emotion - heady, unexpected and disbelief that we had actually won the Championship - let alone in those circumstances."

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Clive S

I had been to most of the matches that season and had booked to go on holiday to Belgium on the Saturday because the season would have been well over. The Hillsborough tragedy meant the season overshot but I could not change holiday; wife was already very tolerant of me that year.

I had arranged for my brother to dog sit for us whilst we were away; he arrived on Friday to take care of dogs. By the way he is a Liverpool fan, who when he was six years old cut up my bike tyres when Charlie George won us the cup.

We spent the night in two different rooms watching the match not even having a break at half time. When Mickey scored I broke the bed; very nearly had a heart attack and forgot to breathe what seemed like an eternity.

Then the whole house shook as my Scouse-loving brother stormed out slamming the door behind him. I wanted to sympathise with him but could not stop gloating. Didn't sleep that night, bought all the papers at the airport and sang the whole time we were in Belgium. What a night, thanks Mickey.

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Julian B

In May 1989 I was 17 years old and just starting my A Levels. My parents were constantly reminding me that the next month would be crucial to the rest of my life but all that I cared about was that we won the League.

I had purchased my tickets for the original game and when rescheduled my father banned me from going as it clashed with my exams. Realising where my priorities lay he then changed strategy and offered me £300 for my ticket.

But no amount of money or threat of punishment was going to stop me, especially as I was convinced we would win by the two goals. With Politics revision books in hand I sat on a coach which left Highbury with the objective of arriving in Liverpool at about 6pm.

The traffic was diabolical and gradually panic started to set in that we would miss the KO, however we finally arrived at the outskirts of Liverpool twenty minutes before the 8:05 scheduled start. A couple of policemen boarded the coach to tell us that the game had been delayed until we got there, and we were going to be held until all the other coaches arrived and then escorted to the ground in convoy.

Everyone seemed to accept this, although I had my suspicions which proved well founded when a friend of mine switched on his pocket radio and we listened to live commentary while one of the policeman still stood at the front maintaining his lies.

We finally entered the ground and my first recollection was Bould having his header cleared off the line and the intense atmosphere which I had never experienced before or since. I still remember being totally positive at half time, but not overly elated when Smith scored the first as the Scousers ruined our celebrations by surrounding the referee for what appeared an eternity.

When Thomas missed his first chance I suddenly turned from 100% positivity to negativity. I wasn’t wearing a watch, so I turned to the guy next to me when Richardson was down injured to ask how long and he told me it was all over and walked out.

I’d never been a religious person but when Lukic had the ball I prayed for Arsenal to score, 10 seconds later I was convinced that God was a Gooner, unfortunately I lost my faith the next season at Old Trafford.

Since that moment I’ve lived a fantastic life, but I can still say that Thomas’s injury time goal was the greatest moment in my life and has been a constant inspiration.

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Gary O

ANFIELD '89 - THE DAY I MADE MY DAUGHTER CRY

Laura Debbie was born 28.01.89 and she was sitting in her rocking chair (not the granny sort) watching her Dad running around the room whooping and hollering (or screaming and shouting) when Thomas's goal went in.

She obviously did not have a clue what was going on and burst in tears at the sight of me acting like a lunatic over a football game. In the years that followed Laura Debbie became a Gooner herself, and regularly made more noise than me when I took her to a game.

But then she fell in love, moved to Loughborough and is now only an armchair supporter. And hopefully this will embarrass her more than me if it gets printed.

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Jonathan A

ANFIELD '89 - THE PHYSICAL DAMAGE IT CAUSED ME

Ah! yes, 26th May 1989. I remember it well, not just for the extraordinary (and frankly quite unexpected) outcome, but for the physical damage it caused me.

At the time we lived in rural Suffolk and the television was in a room with a very low ceiling. When Michael Thomas hit the winning goal I hit the ceiling, banged my head, fell into a heap next to my one year old daughter, who screamed in horror.

I didn't know where to laugh or cry - both seemed in order - and moments later none of it mattered anyhow. A night I shall never forget.

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Bryan R

ANFIELD '89 - I FLEW BACK FROM BARBADOS BUT ...

I was working in Barbados but had kept my season ticket and was determined to be there for the season's end so I booked 5 weeks off. The Hillsborough disaster meant a delay in the last two games; I extended my ticket to take in the Wimbledon match but had to return to Barbados so gave away my Anfield ticket.

Back in Barbados I was relying on Radio 5 (these were the days before satellite TV). Can you believe that for the only time in their history they went on strike. I spent the match in a beach bar phoning a mate in UK every 20 minutes from a payphone on reverse charging. He gave me live commentary for the last 5 minutes and at the final whistle I dived into the Caribbean sea.

Many months earlier had also had huge bets with a number of scousers on the outcome of the title and was staring at a huge payout. I collected the bets from shocked scousers and invested the money in champagne and beer and sent a congratulatory postcard to George Graham (and amazingly got a reply).

I made a promise that night that wherever I was in the world I would never miss another big game again. I have kept that promise and it has been very costly!

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Stephen C

ANFIELD '89 - MY NIGHT WAS SPOILT BY ARSENAL FANS ...

My memory of that great night was spoilt by the Arsenal fans. No, please read on. Unfortunately I had to work that evening in Birmingham and could not see the game live so I made a plan:

1.     Make sure that I recorded it.
2.     Make sure I didn’t hear the result.
3.     Watch it first thing in the morning.

My plan was working fine and we finished the job late that evening and set out down the M40 with radio silence so I didn’t hear the result. I then started seeing cars making their way home from the game with Arsenal flags being waved out of the windows and very happy looking fans inside. Surely not I thought. I wouldn’t let myself believe the impossible had happened. I convinced myself that Arsenal must have won 1-0 and that was why the fans looked happy.

Early the next morning I watched the game and sure enough Arsenal went 1-0 up. In the back of my mind I kept seeing fans waving their scarves and flags on the M40. Then MT did the impossible and scored the second. I changed jobs soon after to make sure that I wouldn’t miss a live game ever again.

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Tony W

ANFIELD '89 - TANITA TIKARAM & ME

My memory is of not watching the game because I was going to see Tanita Tikaram (remember her?) in concert. In those pre-mobile phone days my brother and I decided to video the game with the intention of watching it 'as live' when we got home.

All that was spoiled when Tanita came out for her encore and announced 'if you want to know the football score it was Liverpool 0 Arsenal 2', brief pause, then 'Is that right?' to one of her band, who nodded.

I start jumping around like a loon before wondering if we were being wound up. The encore passed in a blur, what if she was wrong? We rushed back to the car for the 11 o'clock news, waited an age for the sports, before the score was announced quite formally with no match report or any indication of the drama. A celebration somewhat like Del and Rodney when they became millionaires followed.

My only regret is that we went home instead of heading for Highbury.

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Tony A

ANFIELD '89 - I MISSED THE GOAL...

As a season ticket holder living in the Midlands with 3 young daughters, there was a limit on how many matches I could attend in the 1980s. I was allowed out for home matches, but nothing more.

So I watched the game on TV, on my own, wife in other room, kids in bed. As we approached the last few minutes the strain of it all was just too much. Had I had someone to talk to, it would have been fine, but on my own, I couldn't take it.

I had left the car parked in the drive, rather than in the garage (as the lady wife required), so with a couple of minutes left I got up, went out, and put the car away. When I came back the game was still on (no score indicator at the top of the screen in those days) so I just watched the supposedly inevitable end.

I still remember to this day the slow growing realisation that possibly, just maybe, could it be? Surely not! In my time out with the car, Arsenal had scored... I had missed one of the most amazing dramatic moments ever in the history of football! Fortunately even in those primitive days they had action replays.

After the final whistle the phone started ringing - friends and business associates from all over the place congratulating me (as if I had done anything) and just being so thrilled that someone, anyone, had put one over on Liverpool.

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Mark B

ANFIELD '89 - I UPSET THE GERMANS

In  October 1988, after supporting the Gunners since my dad first took me to Highbury as a six year old, I decided to move to Munich in Germany as I got an offer of a job there.

It dawned on me halfway through the season that I might actually not see my beloved Arsenal win their first championship title since 1971 (I was at the Lane that night by the way but that's another story).

I travelled back for a few games, the main one I remember for some reason was away at Southampton. Anyway, as the season went on and we faltered in the latter stages I thought 'It's not to be' (yes oh me of little faith) so that night I settled for a few Weiss biers, a lot of red wine and a pizza in a local bar on the outskirts of Munich.

Nowhere had it on the box and I couldn't face the thought of us getting beaten and watching the faces of the Scousers... the next thing I know the phone is ringing, all I could hear was a load of singing and shouting and faintly make out my old man saying 'they've done it boy, they've done it'.

I was stunned, shocked, a bit pie-eyed from the booze but I remember running around the flat shouting at the top of my voice, my girlfriend couldn't work it all out; she thought I was having a heart attack or something.

I'm shouting at the top of my voice 'we've done it, we've done it, champions, champions, champions..... Out in the hallway and in the courtyard lights were coming on, abuse is being hurled at me in German. Did I mind, did I f..."

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Dennis O

ANFIELD '89 - I WAS WORKING AS A STAFF NURSE ON MERSEYSIDE

I was working as a staff nurse at Park Lane high security hospital on Merseyside. I did everything possible to get to the match and get the shift off, alas to no avail.

On the evening of the game as I was in charge of the ward I arranged to have the main T.V. on and my seat reserved. It was also agreed that some of the patients could stay up to watch the game. At kick off I was surrounded by Scousers who were giving me quite a lot of stick, but I was quietly confident that if we could keep it tight we may just do it.

A few minor problems occurred on the ward, meanwhile things in the T.V. room were getting tense between the Scousers and myself. Then the 'phone rang, and I was summoned to the office.

The night nursing officer wanted to know why we had not left the ward as usual, and handed in the numbers sheet and our security keys. As I was explaining what was going on and informing him of the permission to watch the game, I suddenly heard Brian Moores immortal words comming from the T.V. room.

The phone was slammed down, and running as fast as I could, I made it just in time to seeing Michael Thomas put the ball past Grobbelar into the net. I stood in the middle of the T.V. room and cried; a 28 year old male with two young kids in the middle of ward within a high security hospital on Merseyside, with my team down the road having just won the league, and I was crying!!

The patients shook my hand and said well done, congratulations, the Scousers on my shift said we deserved it. The following day, I was inudated with phone calls some of which were nasty, others offering congratulations.

At that time I was the only Gooner in the hospital; now there are eight of us, and every time one or two of us meet up we like to remind the Scousers of who we are by re-iterating those immortal words 'Thomas charging through the midfield, it's up for grabs now'.

Come you Gunners.

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Richard E

ANFIELD '89 - THE MOST RIDICULOUS QUESTION

I was privileged to see almost all of the games at Highbury that season. The night of the game I met an American friend who loved football, came to this country as a Liverspud supporter but had been brought to the light. We made our way to the college bar, and after several pre-match drinks went into a tiny TV room to take our place. The atmosphere in the room was electric, with a very definite 6" line down the middle.

Like every other Arsenal supporter, we took dogs abuse all through the game, and when Pleat said "It's fitting that, after the season they have had, Arsenal should win 1-0" the Scousers erupted with a torrent of new abuse about lucky Arsenal not deserving a thing. And when we saw Barnes and McMahon shaking hands with a couple of minutes to go - we went mad.

When Thomas burst through into the area, I think every Arsenal supporter in the room knew it was going in. I never saw the ball go into the net and I never saw the end of the game, Pete and I dancing with the others, which is just as well because I would have spent the last minute saying 'typical of Arsenal to give away a penalty or something now'.

When we had calmed down, I rushed down to the phone to call my Dad. I had to wait whilst a girl was talking to her mum. She was just about to put another pound into the phone when I said "If you put that in the phone, you will lose it!"  She very calmly said to her mum "I've got to go, an Arsenal supporter needs the phone."

I called my dad and uttered the most ridiculous question in the history of man. Through a waterfall of tears I asked "Did you see the game?"

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Warren

ANFIELD '89 - IT'S UP FOR GRABS BUT I STILL DIDN'T SEE THE TROPHY

Born in '68, too young to remember the '71 double year, I spent the majority of my formative Arsenal years watching rubbish, first under Terry Neil and then Don Howe. However bad it got, and boy did it get bad (Walsall at home, anyone!) I still clung to the dream of one day seeing an Arsenal captain lift the League Trophy.

Fast forward to the 26th May '89. Left for Highbury early in the morning, arriving with minutes to spare, I was on my own as the rest of my usual crowd had decided against the trip following the postponement of the original date. Everyone was in a good mood on the coaches with loads of banter flying around. Then we hit traffic on the M1, credit goes to the coach driver for doing his best to jump the queue each time we got to a junction.

As we entered Liverpool about 10 minutes before kick off, a member of the local constabulary boarded the coach. He assured us that due to the traffic the kick off had been delayed and no need to panic, we wouldn't miss a kick. So it was no suprise that we entered the ground just as Bouldy flashed a header just wide.

Half time came and went and then the first magic moment when Smudger's header hit the back of the net, cue bedlam. Then we come to Mickey bursting through the midfield and time is almost suspended. At this point I should explain that I was wearing glasses and without them am nearly blind (-8.0 in both eyes for anyone who's interested). The last thing I saw clearly that night was the ball hit the net.

I leapt in the air with everyone around me, but my glasses also leapt about 30 yards forward never to be seen again. The final whistle came and went, I celebrated along with everyone else. Big Tone lifted the trophy but all I could see was a blur in the middle of the pitch, only knowing the trophy was raised by the cheers.

It was to be another two years before I finally saw that trophy lifted by an Arsenal captain, by which time I had taken the sensible step of investing in contact lenses. If anyone was hit or injured by a flying pair of glasses that night I apologise, but I'm sure under the circumstances you'll forgive me.

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More memories of Anfield ’89, and/or from any match or incident from the 1988-89 season are invited.

Please email your contributions to anfield89@aisa.org. There is no limit on the length of your contribution but we reserve the right to edit.