I was fortunate enough to live in Swansea for a very brief time. The terraces at the Vetch were part of my initiation in Welsh sporting culture. The bleak, sodden midweek matches which invariably ended as scoreless draws were my favourites.
The rain which sleeted down in horizontal chunks, the tepid black stuff that masqueraded as coffee at half-time, feeling sorry for the guys in the prison, Roger Freestone’s heroics and the undying dedication of the hard-core Swannies are memories indelibly forged in my heart.
Every now and then, for no particular reason at all, I break into that ‘Super Johnny Cornforth’ chant.
Port Macquarie, New South Wales Australia.
Letter to Evening Post, Farewell to the Vetch supplement, 21 March 2005.