It took McParland until after the interval to convert what amounted to our superiority into goals (48). Undeterred visitors West Ham United retaliated en masse and full-back Cantwell scrambled an equaliser (68) Those who remembered the 2-7 earlier in the season now feared the worst. And the worst is what happened when Dugdale, in attempting to clear, miskicked leaving Sims stranded (75) 1-2.

Understanding the enormity of his task Mercer realised he needed help and so persuaded his right-hand man at Sheffield, Dick Taylor, to renew their acquaintance.

Second division Rotherham United had been drawn to test their ambitions at B6 in the FA Cup. In view of our recent performances they arrived full of optimism that was not entirely misplaced. But if they were a sample of the second division we may have little to fear next season! Sewell (47) kept their dancing supporters feet on the ground only for Sawyer (72) to have them jigging about again.

It was left to Hitchens (77) to see to it that we got through the third round at the first attempt for the first from the last six attempts.

The weather worsened and by the Friday we were already spared a visit to Nottingham Forest. The team then spent a week at the England training headquarters at Lilleshall preparing for a fourth round cup tie at Chelsea. We supporters who travelled on the limited dining car special excursion – fare 20/- with lunch and dinner included at 44/3 (£2.21) – were singularly unprepared for what we were about to witness. But when Dugdale repeated his West Ham faux pass only for Greaves to step in (7) there was no suggestion as to what was to come.

That is until Wylie as last showed his mettle and first Hitchens (21) and then Myerscough (25) had claret and blue-scarfed strangers hugging each other at the north end. Stan Crowther, who had moved from Manchester United to Chelsea, was completely flummoxed and could only stand and watch along with the other astonished 55,944. 2-1.

The fixture list meant that we then had to play Chelsea again. This time at home in the league. 33,575 arrived wondering what were the chances of a repeat? But having remembered to be there early Jimmy Greaves (2) quickly destroyed all such thoughts. It tells everything about our resurrected team spirit that Myerscough (14) and then Lynn (16) soon had the cheers ringing round Villa Park again.

What we gained by hard graft we were never going to relinquish and marzipan was applied to the cake by McParland (86). The referee had been Ernie Crawford, who unbeknown at the time was eventually to play a crucial part in our season.

FA Youth Cup 4th round replay Villa Youth 5 Barnsley Youth 0.

Blackpool in February, not a happy prospect. Especially when after changes at Stafford and Crewe there was concern whether we who were few would actually arrive at South station by the scheduled 2.32. Just. Ever-youthful Stanley Matthews was still there to taunt Aldis again. But we had the first laugh when McParland rose to the occasion (28).

Then we stood firm against all they could throw at us – and it was quite a lot – until Durie (78) spoilt our day at the seaside. Except there was worse to follow. No time to visit the beach. We were scheduled to depart South at 17.10 and were edging towards the exit when Charnley with the very last kick kicked us in the teeth. 1-2. At Crewe we literally managed to leap from one train to another and so arrived at New Street an hour earlier than expected. Our only consolation that day.

Such was still the attraction of the FA Cup that British Railways put on two excursion trains from New Street to Lime Street. 9.55 and 10.15. 13/6 (67p) with meals for 37/9 (£1.89 inclusive.). It is impossible to overstate the excitement felt by those who made the return journey after events of the afternoon. Being in a crowd of 60,225 was excitement in itself.

Watching the imperious Wylie (9 & 36) and McParland (40) destroy Everton before very eyes was nothing short of sensational. Unfortunately Hickson was still around to show he was still a centre-forward to be feared (48) but we had Hitchens (63) and by 6 o’clock Lime Street station was awash with thousands of claret and blue fans who were starting to believe again. Somehow I got my programme signed by Jackie Sewell, who rarely mixed with the fans before the game. A wonderful souvenir.

Blackburn Rovers came to make up for their absence on fifth round day. Despite the fog 30,050 arrived cheered by the fact that we had been drawn at home to Burnley in round six. And we always beat Burnley at home! And the same may just be said about their neighbours. The game was only played at all under the strange rule which allowed it to go ahead if the two goals could be seen from the centre circle.

No matter that the pitch cannot be seen from the press box. Such that it was only after the game that the players were able to confirm that the winning goal had been scored by Sewell (57). At left-back Winton who had just been signed from Burnley made his debut but nobody can say how well he played except that the dangerous Douglas did not score. 1-0.

Newcastle United and the interminable journey to and from the north-east. As a regular I tell fellow fans about the hour wait in Sheffield on the way back and the fish and chip shop ought to have rewarded me with a free meal. The game was played in mud even deeper than Luton and before 20,018 it was a case of who would slip up worst. McGuigan as it so happened and he then spent most of the game trying to retain his balance on the wing.

There was plenty of incident at both ends until the crippled McGuigan was free to centre and Taylor (80) headed past Sims. 0-1. Followed by an infuriating wait at the station amidst all those happy homeward-bound Geordies before boarding the train home.at 7 pm

After a spell of fine weather home fans amongst the 60,145 fully expected repeat of recent cup form and history to be maintained. But unfortunately Burnley came with a plan. If they could get a draw they would get us back to their place where they always beat us, not the other way around. Consequently they erected the Burnley wall and try as we might we could not dislodge a single brick.

It is doubtful whether Burnley even tried to score because Sims was nothing more than a spectator throughout. As a bore draw it was up there with the most notorious. The groan at the end could be heard in Erdington High Street.

Come Tuesday we journeyed to Turf Moor for the replay more in hope then expectation. Even in the match programme manager Harry Potts was congratulating himself on his master plan and hinted that he expected history to follow its natural course. But he had reckoned without the heavy rain and McParland. And we too had a defensive plan. 38,931, all to confuse things, bedecked in claret and blue, distinguished only by their accents.

Pleased with our first half efforts we came out with an air of unfinished business. Within minutes Sewell to Smith to McParland (48) and one corner of the terraces was setting new records for the standing high jump. Burnley were stunned, players and spectators alike but that was as nothing to what came next. The goal of the season, the goal of the decade, a goal for the ages.

Burnley were on the attack when the ball came out to McParland alone on the wing a yard inside his own half. He set off at a pace with the entire Burnley outfielders in hot but futile pursuit. Most players would then have rounded goalkeeper McDonald for a tap-in but McParland let fly from full twenty yards. There was an almost total silence, stunned by the audacity of it all before even the home supporters had cause to acknowledge that they had seen something sensational.

Burnley simply could not then compete with that. We already started to make plans for Hillsborough and Nottingham Forest, though we would have preferred either Luton town or Norwich City. Only problem, we were still bottom of the league and Leeds United in blue and gold were next. Disappointingly only 27,631 and even more so when Overfield (51) put them ahead.

But when the lights came on so did we light up. Sewell (73) gave us hope then never leave early, because Hitchens finally got the better of Jack Charlton in the last minute just as he had been trying unsuccessfully to do all afternoon and in an instant we rose above Portsmouth and Leicester City.in the table.

Next day, many of the 27,631 came back for the Sunday morning ritual of buying a semi-final ticket. Only this season it was for a Villa semi-final. Ground 2/6 (12p) Paddock 6/- (30p) Seats 21/- and 25/-

We set off for Sheffield to face Forest and Villa legend, their manager Billy Walker, full of the joys of spring. This was our year again. not knowing that there was a pantomime villain waiting in the wings. As previously alluded to, referee Ernie Crawford.

I find it impossible to report on this game without going on again about the worst referring decision of the twentieth century. McParland was seen to bring the ball under control on the top of his thigh before depositing in the net for what should have been the winning goal. Except that he had done so with such consummate skill that Crawford could only imagine it was with his hand. No, no, no. I can only imagine the Villa players were deflated and still discussing this horrendous injustice when Quigley sneaked into score what officially became the winner.

Somehow manager Mercer, who must have been the victim of a few bad decisions in his time, had to pull the team together for a Wednesday evening meeting with Bolton Wanderers and, as ever, Nathaniel Lofthouse. In terms of Villa support it was a typical midweek evening gathering outside the players entrance, our usual meeting place. After the disaster which was Hillsborough there were so few Villa supporters there that if I could remember all their names I would do so.

I had let on the 1.55 from New Street, arriving three hours later at Manchester London Road (as it then was). Then a walk across the city to Victoria for the 5.40 to Bolton arriving 5,56. My concern then was repeating the exercise on the return journey. But I need not have been concerned because two regular supporters, learning of my plight, offered me a car ride back to Wolverhampton.

It was also the night that Hitchens completely outshone the England centre-forward in front of his own fans with an unimpeachable hat-trick (28, 33 & 83) as if to show the 21,808 that they had seen his successor. No matter that Lofthouse had scored (67). On the way home we were as certain as we could be that we had been saved by the cup and that relegation talk was over. I gratefully boarded the 12.10 from Low Level.

All the more so when 27,401 turned up for a service of thanksgiving v Luton Town. Except that beating cup finalist Luton Town was never going to be a foregone conclusion – until it was. Bingham, last seen with Sunderland, scored against the run of play and we feared a sudden loss of cup form. That was until Smith was tripped and Smith scored (65 pen). The relief was palpable and Hitchens took charge (70 & 86).3-1. With nine games to go we were five points clear of the bottom two.

Despite the weight of history, one point from eighteen games, we arrived at White Hart Lane on Good Friday morning with more confidence that might have been expected. Danny Blanchflower must surely have a soft spot for his old mates from somewhere for his younger days.

Despite the fact that London Underground did not operate on Good Friday 45.058 were there and in a typical holiday game there were incidents a-plenty. We even took the lead, McParland (27) but in a reminder of their previous meeting Bobby Smith had Dugdale’s number and it was one-apiece (35). Then a clash of the giants; Nigel Sims was adjudged to have felled Smith – as if he would. Jones (59 pen).

After a miskick by Medwin he scored at the second attempt and Tottenham were considering themselves all but safe for another season. Until McParland again (76) gave them a rude awakening and it would have been no injustice if we had gone on to equalise.

We then had to dash to Euston to get home in time to be back at New Street next morning for a visit to Goodison Park. If supporters were exhausted imagine how the players must have felt. Even so we fielded an unchanged eleven for the fifth consecutive game.

If we hoped for a repeat of the cup tie we were to be disappointed, or rather annoyed. Even so McParland had given us hope (23) until on the stroke of half-time Hickson repaid us again for the miserable weeks he had spent with us. Our defence continued to hold firm and that might have been it but for the intervention of Mr Oxley.

The ‘Mr’ tells you everything because he was the referee who adjudged Hickson to have been fouled when 34.986 saw that it had been the other way around. Parker (47 pen). When you are down you are down, so like Wylie we limped our way towards Plymouth (then top of the third division).

Easter Monday and we had not even managed to get ourselves the respite by having the game as usual on Easter Tuesday. Still two points better off then Leicester, six from Portsmouth. 34,354. We tried our best, not least when McParland put us ahead (23) and then we did our hardest to keep Blanchflower from proving that were ‘singularly unprepared’ even if at that moment he had been singularly unprepared.

It was going to take something unusual to get the better of us and the unusual came in the form of centre-half Norman venturing into our penalty area where we paid the penalty of not marking him. (62). A point is a point but will it be enough?

Leicester City next. Not so much a four-pointer but a several millions pounds decider. 39.963, as befits the importance of the occasion. The league table and their pen pictures do not suggest formidable opposition if we can show any semblance of cup form. Myerscough the ever-dependable reserve deputises for Sewell this time. But historically we have a thing about teams wearing royal blue and Leicester are wearing royal blue.

More especially is their centre forward Walsh who (19 & 63) has them lookin like winners with every passing minute. This is league form Villa not cup form Villa. Dixon, now a permanent fixture at right-half scores (65) but as the sun disappears behind the Trinity Road stand so too do the faithful who are starting to loose faith. Four games left, twenty-first. A point from safety.

Preston North End, major rivals 1888-89, owe us no favours. British Railways obviously consider that we still have sufficient away support to justify a twelve-coach steam train excursion. New Street dep 9.35 Preston arr 12.45 Fare 14/3 (72p). A three-car diesel next season perhaps.

Preston do not have enough support to fill a quarter of their ground. 12,244. Although we conceded the first goal, Taylor (21) a header from a corner, we were by far the better team in the first half. As emphasised by Sewell (26) and Myerscough (44). How or why therefore did we come to concede three second half goals? Thompson (48) Hatsell (57) and Thompson again (87) in a game we could and should have won. Joe Mercer is paid for knowing the answer to that conundrum.

As always Burnley followed Preston. Whether by accident or design both teams decided to play a reprise of the cup tie. Nil-nil more than says it all.

Problem is that two days later, 6.30 on a Monday night – still not every club has lights – Nottingham Forest also choose to play out a replay of the cup semi-final but without the intervention of the referee. It was all over before the Archers went on the air – then at 6.45. Imlach (4) and Dwight (12). Then the cup finalists did not allow us a look in even if we had looked as though we might. Poor fare for the 18,953.

Two games left, twentieth on goal average.

New Street 10.30 then a circuitous route into Manchester Central arr 1.30. Fare 12/- (60p) 39.661 as befits what was at stake. Once again nil–nil and nothing more needs to be said.

It was the failure to beat Manchester City which we should have done easily which cost us dearly. Manchester City v Leicester City was to be the last game of the season. Our relegation was virtually out of our hands. Especially when Manchester City refused to alter their kick-off time (7.30) to coincide with the Hawthorns. (7.15)

However good our defence we had complexly lost the art of scoring. Hitchens (65) Allen (88). 48,165, a record attendance for a West Midlands funeral. I did not hang around with the gloating for a single minute and was on the first bus to depart along Holyhead Road. Perversely I looked forward to visiting some new grounds.

Cup final day: In protest against the outrageous decision that led to our absence from Wembley I decided not to watch the game on television and went instead to Warwick Races, where I enjoyed a highly profitable afternoon.

All season long the Vila News had failed to include the Central League table. Too embarrassed perhaps to reveal that we finished bottom.