We own our football club – and I couldn’t be prouder

I was at the Southend game on a very dank wet day, when Exeter City were consigned to the National League back in 2003. They would win one nil that Saturday in front of over 10k supporters who had jammed into St James Park (SJP), but it would end up being a very, hollow victory. The club was already in financial meltdown after the collapse of the ITV digital deal with the football league and because of two fraudulent directors who’d helped themselves to its coffers. On top of that they were a laughing stock in the footballing world! Uri Geller had sworn his allegiance and his City shirt on ‘ I’m a celebrity get me out of here’, Michael Jackson had turned up in a Pope mobile at SJP and Darth Vadar AKA David Prowse had been made an honorary director.

The Farse was with us you could say and the club – the first to play the Brazilian national team in 1914 – not only faced the ignominy of relegation to the non league but liquidation after a 102 year history. Thankfully the supporters trust set up a few years before, stepped up to the plate and took control of the club, starting the rebuild. As an exile in London we tried to do our bit by organising fundraising events, as every penny counted as the club restructured and attempted to service the debt as the City community united to keep it afloat. I would get sacked from my job in a recruitment agency after sending out ‘a save our club’ email to its database in what was a desperate and soul destroying period, where we teetered on the brink.Then there’d be the trips to places like Woking or Gravesend, where we’d throw away leads and see our heroes tread water. I remember shouting to a couple of mates in exasperation at the former, ‘WHY ON EARTH DO WE PUT OURSELVES THROUGH THIS EVERY WEEK’? before this huge guy with an earring through his nose turned round to me with a beaming smile and roared ‘BECAUSE YOU LOVE IT BAUY!’. Two minutes later Steve Flack would scramble home an injury time equaliser and we’d celebrate like there was no tomorrow. It really hit me then, what we were about and what it meant to be part of a community whose belief and passion for their club would never let it die. Prophetically speaking it was like coming home. Even though I’d seen my first City game twenty years before I was a Grecian reborn that night. Soon after the Woking game the impossible dream happened and we’d draw Manchester United away in the third round of the FA cup. Hordes of us descended North where we’d silence Old Trafford with our chant of ‘HAVE YOU EVER PLAYED BRAZIL?’ and bravely hold the line to secure a draw and a brighter tomorrow.

We’d narrowly lose the replay, but by then the future had been rewritten – City were here to stay. Since those dark days there’s been many up’s and downs on and off the pitch but under the direction of the Trust and its ownership by the fans the club has charted a fine course. Investment in its academy has borne riches and put us on the map and the club has played a blinder engaging with the community becoming a hub for many living in and around Exeter.
It was a proud moment then on Saturday to take my place in the Adam Stansfield stand which replaced the Old Grandstand where I’d sat for the Southend game. Unlike then, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and no trepidation or gloom from an expectant fan base. SJP in all its glory was vibrant and the big bank rocked as Exeter City the leaders of Division 1(the highest league position in their history) marched out to rapturous applause from a near capacity crowd.

Football is a great leveller though and Leyton Orient the opponents and party poopers for the day deservedly beat us, but I don’t think there was much bitterness with the result. We’ve come a long way in twenty years too own our football club and ultimately its destiny and that means a lot for us Grecians, especially after what came before.