text: When Lincoln lose there is no escape route for me, no plan B to turn to. If we lose, I lose. However, it could have all been very different for me. Instead of the Stacey West, you could be reading the Kenilworth Roader or the Mad Hatter. You see for a short while at the end of the eighties I was a fan of a second club as well, the uninspiring side from Luton.
  I’ll elaborate for you, but first I want to cement the fact that I am and always have been a Lincoln City fan. My Dad is a Lincoln fan and before him my Granddad was a Lincoln fan. In 1986 with hooliganism still rampant I was punished for swearing as an eight-year-old by being forced to go to Lincoln City with my Dad. My Mum didn’t want a potty mouth at home and so I was packed off with Dad to the (empty) den of iniquity that is Sincil Bank. It was October 5th 1986 and it was bloody cold. It was also a Sunday and the turnout at the Bank was less than we average now.
  We were thumped 4-1 that day by Hartlepool and I’m sure we were outplayed. I can’t remember the game though, but I remembered so much more. I mainly remember it being alright for everyone to swear a lot which as an eight-year-old kid is pretty cool. It’s probably why I think the odd F-bomb is okay nowadays. I came away transfixed by everything, and when a few weeks later I watched us beat Swansea 4-0 I was hooked for life. On the way home I dived into a dog turd whilst trying to mimicking the Swansea keeper as he dived for a penalty. I probably wasn’t cleaned up properly until I got home, and I certainly hadn’t stopped telling my Dad how much I loved Gary Lund and Lincoln City. I imagine as he scrubbed that vile canine excrement from my legs I was telling him I wanted to be Lund, or Steve Buckley.