I’m not sure if many know the exact day that they fell in love with their football club, but I do. It was my eighth birthday. It was a match that has gone down as one of the greatest ever at the Technique Stadium, even though it came only a couple months into the ground’s life while it was still called the b2net.

My first football game was at Saltergate, a draw against Dagenham and Redbridge, one of the last matches played at our old ground. When the new stadium opened, I was there for the first league game against Barnet, a 2-1 win, and pestered my Dad constantly about when we could go to the football next. I went to the subsequent home games against Hereford, Lincoln and Cheltenham- a 4-0 win, a 2-1 win and a 3-0 win, enough to get any kid dreaming about glory.

The next game was Crewe Alexandra, on the 2^nd October which happened to be my birthday. The only logical decision was to spend the day at the football, Chesterfield were the best, we won every game, what could go wrong?

I was blessed that my first Chesterfield side was so good. With the likes of Tommy Lee, Derek Niven, Danny Whittaker, Craig Davies, Dean Morgan and the one and only Jack Lester it is no wonder that we won the league that season. My eight-year-old self thought that we were unbeatable.

We obviously weren’t unbeatable, as the first half of my birthday match showed.

Crewe raced into a 3-0 lead within just 13 minutes, the first coming from Luke Murphy, then Lee Bell and then Byron Moore. Before even quarter of an hour the game looked wrapped up- and Chesterfield looked hopeless.

On 23 minutes however, Jack Lester did what he did best and scored from close range to make it 1-3. He was able to latch onto a cross from Dean Morgan and the diminutive striker headed it home.

I think 8-year-old me had some hope at that point, but that was dashed when just 3 minutes later Shaun Miller rounded Tommy Lee and poked the ball into an empty net to make it 1-4.

At halftime, 1-4 down, my Dad turned to me. He looked at me, probably sat in my seat looking dejected, and said “It’s alright son, we can’t win every game, that’s just how it is. Do you think you still want to go next week?” At the time I probably wanted to sack off this whole football nonsense.

For most of the second half life wasn’t much better. Chesterfield dominated much of the posession and Dean Morgan hit the crossbar, but the three-goal deficit wasn’t reduced.

It took until the 74^th minute for things to get exciting. Jack Lester found himself at the end of a cross from Craig Davies and made no mistake, heading the ball home from close range once again. 2-4.

On 79 minutes Dean Morgan was barged over in the box and Danny Whittaker struck his penalty straight down the middle. 3-4.

It was happening, my 8-year-old heart was racing, I couldn’t believe what was going on. Crewe had a freekick in our half, the ball was lofted into our box, Clayton Donaldson got on the end of it. Shit. 3-5. Hopes dashed once again.

Surely that was it then. My first loss. For 9 minutes I think everyone in the ground was quite stunned. We looked as if we could do the impossible only to concede another sloppy goal. Crewe had stopped the party; they had a two-goal lead again and all they had to do was see the game out.

But on 89 minutes Craig Clay, a product of the Chesterfield academy, was felled in the box. Another penalty. This time Whittaker slammed the ball into the left-hand side of the net. Merely a consolation?

On 92 minutes something really special happened. One of those footballing moments that stick with you. Craig Clay got the ball in midfield. He took a couple of touches, and with his right boot fired the ball into the bottom left corner of the goal from 20 yards out for his first ever professional goal. 5-bloody-5. I don’t know how loud an eight-year-old can shout but I must have been at my limit.

From then and there I was stuck with Chesterfield. I fell in love with the club. In reality, it was a draw, in League 2, against Crewe, but for me it was the most incredible thing I had ever witnessed. An eight-year-old shouldn’t be subjected to those emotional highs and lows, especially on his birthday.

I can imagine walking out of the ground and looking up to my Dad after that game and going “what were you so worried about at half time? Of course we got a result, we’re Chesterfield!”. Oh, the naivety of youth.