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It is ten years ago this week that the Bulls lost their Football League status.
Going into that week, the mission was clear. Beat Brighton, at home, on the final day of the season to send them down instead of us. We hadn't been bottom of the league until the weekend before, when a Brighton win over Doncaster moved them above us on goals scored.
In the end it was the amount of goals scored, or rather the lack of them, that sent us down. Back then, goals scored seperated teams rather than goal difference. If it was the system used now we would have been safe with the draw, and they reverted to goal difference as the method to seperate sides not long after.
The week before the biggest match was full of rumours and gossip. Doubts were raised over the financial viability of the club, something that people had never questioned before. Back in those days football clubs were owned by largely faceless millionaires, and the common fan assumed that the man that was capable of creating such huge wealth for himself was equally capable of running a football club at a comfortable profit.
It was never wondered whether player X was sold to cover debts, or that player Y joined the club because his previous employers couldn't fund his wages. Thesedays, every last inch of the club is subject to speculation and rumour. Back then, we had no internet to spread rumours like wildfire.
But the rumours spread like wildfire anyway. The city was chattering about 'star' striker Adrian Foster already agreeing a deal with rising stars Rushden for next season, regardless of our fate. And then there was the truly bizarre rumour, discounted by most, that Goalkeeper Trevor Wood would not play because his wife's family came from Brighton.
We laughed at that one, until it turned out to be true. Graham Turner admitted that it was his final decision to exclude Wood, who had been a regular after arriving in January from Walsall to replace the occasionally excentric Andy DeBont, but originally claimed that DeBont was better for set-pieces. DeBont had made stuff of legend in the summer when he signed a contract with the Bulls after a successful loan spell the season before, and followed it up by breaking his hand on a test your strength machine at a fairground. Luck didn't seem to be on our side from the start.
The writing was on the wall in the summer that the play-off campaign of the season before was not going to be repeated. The club lost it's backbone in the summer, and failed to replace the experience and talent.
Out went Tony James, a defender from Leicester that came within two weeks of a seven figure move to Man Utd before a series of injuries wrecked his career, Richard Wilkins, Captain and lynchpin midfielder, and Steve White who, despite his advancing years, put most defenders in the division to the sword.
In came a string of youngsters and journeymen. Gavin Mahon may be the skipper of a Premiership side now but, back then, he was a raw untested teenager from Wolverhampton that didn't put a tackle in for three months. Quentin Townsend came from Wolves youth side, and barely got a game in the second half of the season. Ian Foster came with a reputation from Liverpool, but seemed to get sent off more than he scored, while senior striker Adrian Foster provided half the goals of his predecessor with his less than predatory instinct.
The Bulls trod water for a large part of the season clearly outclassed by the stronger sides, but picked up wins from some of the lesser lights to bounce around the lower mid-table area.
We even won at Brighton. They were in deep trouble, financially crippled and facing eviction from the Goldstone Ground, and the fans had resorted to pitch invasions and protests. Bulls fans were warned to hide their colours and keep a low profile, but there was never animosity between the fans as they preferred to vent their frustrations at their boardroom and landlords.
But from the moment we beat Brighton, things seemed to fall apart. Gareth Stoker, like a rat in midfield chasing every ball down even if he wasn't always too sure what to do with it, was sold to rivals Cardiff for £20,000 and the bite suddenly disappeared from the midfield.
We signed a succession of players to bolster the side as it began to look like freefall. Veteran striker Tony Agana arrived but far too late. Graham Turner even brought in his son, Mark, to fight for the cause but his lack of experience was obvious and it eventually proved too late.
A deflected own goal gave the Bulls hope in the final day clash but with, seemingly, the world's press against us we struggled to capitalise on a number of good opportunities to bury the game and, once the equaliser went in, there was little fight left in the Bulls side.
In the weeks before the game every barely famous person with a half-baked connection to Brighton surfaced in the press confessing their love for the side. It was almost painted as an atrocity if the Bulls would be allowed to survive at the dearly beloved Brighton's expense - a team whose only 'claim to fame' in a largely anonymous existence was a lost FA Cup final 14 years previous. At least we scored in the only moment from our history that gets replayed to death!
Tomorrow, Wrexham meet Boston with very much the same at stake. This time, the home side have the odds in their favour with the draw being sufficient though I don't think there's a Bulls fan in the land that would want to be in that position again.
