In November 1980, I was 13 and making my way to Firhill from East Kilbride alone, arriving at the game to discover there was no manager in the dugout. It seemed very strange but, as I went on my own and was too shy to speak to anyone while I was there, it wasn't until the next day that I found out via the Sunday Mail that Bertie Auld had resigned and gone to Hibs.
Although we didn't always have the money for the expensive new kits every season (I'm sure you can spot my mismatched camo shorts), we always had something Chelsea to wear. My dad would often dodge the high ticket prices by taking us to watch the women's team play, as well as the under-21s, where you would witness great talent at a fraction of the cost.