FIVE GAMES WITH BRYN LAW

Nottingham Forest 1 v 3 Wrexham
FA Cup, January 2nd 1982

As it turned out, this was going to be Wrexham’s final ever season in the 2nd division. The whiff of financial hardship was already swirling around the club like the fog that engulfed the City Ground the first time they tried to play this 3rd round tie. We’d travelled from north Wales, I’d been really car sick all the way and then we’d got to the ground only to be told it was off, rescheduled for the following day. Luckily, we were able to stay overnight at my Uncle’s in Derby. Even so, we finally took our seats in the ground just in time to see Forest take the lead. They were European Champions, we were struggling in the league below. It was going to be a mismatch. Except, Wrexham turned in a season’s best performance in the second half to score three. I was ecstatic. I had a new Wrexham cap which I wore to the game and kept on for the rest of the weekend. Little did I know, it was going to be many years before Wrexham recorded another of those giant killing acts the club had become famous for. Bad times lay ahead.

Chester 1 v 2 Wrexham
Sherpa Van Trophy, December 21st 1988

I was back home from Uni in London. Wrexham were now in the 4th division and the glory days already seemed a long way behind us. I’d seen our arch rivals come from behind to beat us in two cup ties, I’d only ever seen us lose at Sealand Road, I’d even been attacked in the station after one of them. So, I was storing up some serious levels of resentment against this lot. I got the train from Ruabon with my mates, hordes more got on at Wrexham, they marched us through the city before the game, it felt like being part of an invading army. We packed the away end, scored twice and then hung on to win 2-1. Given the competition, the celebrations at the end were ridiculous really, the long march back to the station was brilliant. Hundreds of us singing our heads off, Chester lads popped heads out of pubs en route, then saw our mob and quickly popped back in. We went back to The Turf to celebrate and Dixie McNeil, our manager, joined us. He knew what it meant. It was the same night as the Lockerbie disaster.

Germany 4 v 1 Wales
European Championship Qualifiers, October 16th 1991

I probably should include the home game four months earlier, which we’d won 1-0 on a night of incredible emotion at Cardiff Arms Park but I’ll go for this one, even though we got battered. It was Wales’ latest big chance to qualify, a draw in Nuremberg would probably be enough. A dozen of us crammed into a minibus, flying the flag for the Duke Ruabon. I could write a book on the trip, my first away game with Wales. It was a mad few days, memories for life. We conceded 3 goals in 10 minutes just before half time and the dream was over, again. I staggered back into the house on our return, no sleep for days, only for Mum to tell me the local radio station had asked if I could go and cover Stockport v Chester, that night. All the lads went to the pub to share tales of our adventures, I went to report on a Chester win and a Gary Bennett hat trick and so I really began to make the transition from supporter to reporter.

Belgium 0 v 0 Wales
European Championship Qualifiers, November 16th 2014

Of all the trips I subsequently did as either supporter or reporter, none combined the elements of both like this one. We’d had the same team of people covering the Wales games for Sky for quite a while, we’d got really close and Brussels just before Christmas had plenty of potential for lots of play as well as work. On top of that, Wales were showing signs that maybe this was going to be the time. We had a couple of great nights out in the run up to the game, then watched a gutsy, disciplined performance against the fabulously talented Belgian team. A goalless draw felt like a win and it felt like Wales were finally in shape to qualify. Brilliant scenes at the end, then a mad one with the Sky people and the Wales fans back in the city centre. I was out singing in the streets into the early hours. The culmination of this joy came in Zenica in Bosnia, 11 months later, as I stood on the pitch side and heard through the headphones that Israel’s defeat meant we’d done it. At last!

Wales 2 v 0 Hungary
European Championship Qualifiers, November 19th 2019

There are loads of Wales games after that Brussels trip I could include, but they’ve been well documented in the books, so I’ll go for this one. I’d started the campaign as Sky’s reporter, and ended it back as a fan. It was a traumatic time, leaving Sky after over 20 years. Losing the Wales role was the bit that hit me hardest. Still, I was in Budapest for the defeat that looked like it had ended our chances of another qualification but the young players did a brilliant job to bounce back and so we got to the last game needing a win to qualify. How many times before had this been the scenario and Wales had blown it? Too many. Hungary needed the win as well. A tense night was in prospect, except it wasn’t, because Wales were class. I loved it, this is what we’d always longed for, a side that regularly qualified for the big tournaments. We’d done it with a new group of talented, committed young players having emerged. That was what made this so exciting. I sang myself hoarse in the CCS, something I hadn’t been able to do when I was the Sky man, transition back complete. Who knew that would be the last time we’d have that opportunity? I’ve kept my Euro 2020 tickets, just in case…