Take the greatest feeling you know and multiply it ten-fold and you are still nowhere near to the feeling of a last minute goal in a vital league match. I suppose you have to like football to understand where I am coming from here and indeed to understand this essay, although I think you will understand the essay anyway. Premiership football is the greatest spectator sport in the world. It is the king among kings. Its speed and its passion set it apart from any other league in the world. This is why a Premiership match is such a big occasion in my life. In total I have been to seven Premiership games in my time, and by the end of the season, will have been to two division one games, but none of them could match up to this one.
All this and more happening under the shadow of the huge steel structure. I have been to Wembley, Highbury, Croke Park and le Stade de Francais but White Hart Lane comes out at the top. You give your ticket in the turnstiles then walk up into the stand up huge concrete steps into a corridor, which goes the whole way around the ground. The corridor is mainly grey and concrete with steps leading to the toilets and different parts of the stand. There are television screens bringing us the scores from all the other matches.
I couldn't believe it. The game was restarted and yet another huge roar went up around the ground. They and I honestly thought that the spurs were going to clinch it. Once more attack after attack was heaped on rover's defence. I didn't think we could stand much more, we managed to hold the fort, until the 94th minute when a huge Tim Flower's clearance was flicked on by Chris Sutton to the edge of the area where Shearer got to it, and hit it first time on the half-volley. The ball crashed into the roof of the net past the despairing dive of walker.
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