How My Family Got Me Hooked On The Mighty Well.
I had just turned 6 when Motherwell won the Scottish Cup in 1991. I remember my Grandad beaming from ear to ear about it, the only time I'd seen him happy about sport, apart from when the Snooker was on. My cousin, who was 10 at the time was ecstatic about it too, coming home emblazoned in Claret and Amber, minus the flag the police had taken off him at Hampden, as his Ginger hair and over exuberance clearly meant he would chib a Dundee United fan with it.
Me, I was much calmer. In part due to the fact I'd run myself ragged at my best pals birthday party, in part due to the fact I wasn't that bothered. At 5 years old, I wasn't much of a football head. Indeed I was happy enough playing Alex Kidd, the inbuilt game on my Sega Master System, and playing tig. I didn't need to be kicking a ball about.
That changed when I was about 8. Something just clicked and it was football, football, football. In what my cousin probably saw as target practice, I would beg him to come out and play football with me all the time, and I'd be the goalie just so he would play. His friend even loaned me an old Rangers goalie top for our kick abouts out the back. Jumpers for goalposts might be a cliche, but making a one handed, finger tip save to turn a bullet free kick round my raincoat stantion, made me feel like a hero.
I was 9 by the time I got to go to my first Well game. I remember every detail of it. Getting the lunchtime train from Lanark to Motherwell. having a pie for lunch in Aulds on the Parade. Walking through the East stand turnstile and smelling more pie grease and cigar smoke on the way up the steps.
Alex McLeish had just taken over from Tommy McLean, and we were enjoying a lengthy unbeaten run. We were facing an Aberdeen team who had made a poor start to the season and the form book suggested it would be an easy 3 points. I say form book, I mean the amount of research I'd done. I've always been fastidious in my approach to things and I think this started with my love of The Well. I'd been compiling match reports, programmes my cousin had brought back from games, newspaper clippings and so on all season, so by the time my first game came along, I was a Mini Statto.
After a non descript first half, I was hooked. Never before had I seen so many people in one place. I'd never heard swearing like it. I'd never heard women swearing at all. The vibrancy of the green grass under the floodlights as it got dark hypnotised me. I was freezing but it was magic.
The fact that 7 minutes in to the second half, Chris McCart scored the first of a number of own goals I would see him turn past his own goalie, condemning us to our first defeat in ages, didn't faze me. I was now a Motherwell fan til I die.
16 years on and my passion hasn't weaned. At 25, my job means I can't get to the games as much as I would like due to work, but when I do, I become that 9 year old again. Walking in to the East Stand gives me the same thrill, sharing in the highs and lows of my beloved Well.
What makes it even better for me is that my nephews are exactly the same. Aged 8 and 3, they are Well obsessed. While the older one has discovered other childhood distractions like Tae Kwan Do, WWE and computer games, his wee brother can't get enough of the Well.
It has literally been 2 years since I last saw him NOT wearing any Motherwell gear. He couldn't even stay smartly dressed last Christmas after he got a new shirt. (Pictured.) I visited him yesterday with his present from my holiday in Florida. I asked him what he thought it could be.
"Murrawell Top" he answered.
It wasn't, it was a car from Cars and he loved it anyway. He wasn't wearing his new home top yesterday as he isn't allowed to wear it to nursery, but as he told Gran-Gran, he wears his 'Well socks instead, because they can't see them.
He sits with his big brother and his Grandad in the same seats I sat in growing up watching the likes of Dougie Arnott, Tommy Coyne, Stevie Kirk and Brian Martin, shouting on his favourite crop of players, Stephen Craigan, Jamie Murphy and last season "BIG JOHN RUDDYYYYYYYYYYY"!!!!
Indeed the wee man seems to have become somewhat of a celebrity in the East Stand, as his Grandad was questioned about his absence in Iceland for the Breidablik game. Apparently he is Stevie Saunders mum's best pal now too.
He's gone one better than me though, and is playing with the Mini Well under 5's, showing signs of potential. At almost 4 years old, none other than SuperSub Stevie Kirk has praised him for his fearlessness and actual skills with a football, saying that if he sticks in he could be a great wee player.
When I was told this, I felt the biggest amount of pride and the biggest amount of jealousy I think I've ever had for someone. I should feel bad about that, but I don't.
I hope to pass my family's love of Motherwell FC on to my kids whenever they turn up. As a provincial club, it's important that families continue to go to games and support the club. The successful allure of our Glasgow neighbours may diminish local homegrown support and indeed players, but by introducing them to the rollercoaster of MFC early, maybe we can create and provide the fans with a team of Motherwell supporters. We can but dream...
Up The Well!!!
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