I got a hand-job in the Witton Lane stand. But there wasn't a game on.
Leicester away in the FA cup 1977 I think, we won 1-0 with Andy Gray scoring the goal. Me and my mates went to the game direct from a party in Didsbury, Manchester. I was 16 at the time, really hung over, felt sick, looked very sick and wished to be anywhere else apart from standing up watching my team such was my state of being.
Mid way through the 2nd half I felt a small hand enter my trouser pocket. I assumed someone was trying to rob me but the hand was a friendly one, very friendly. The presence of the hand took my mind of my current state but I thought it better to look at what was on the end of the hand. It was older than me, female and not what you would describe as pretty. It didn't stare me in the eye but instead looked vacantly into the roof of the aging stand as if inspecting the rivets that secured the metal frame together. As the game went on the hand removed itself from time to time but always returned until a surge in the crowd dispersed me and the surrounding crowd to a different area.
So there I was, unsatisfied and feeling sick once again.
