It’s not often you get to say ‘I was there’, but … I was there. On 9 February 1980, I was 9 years-old and saw this:

Justin Fashanu, just beginning to gain a reputation as a foremost talent in English football, scored the goal of the season. And he scored it for my team, Norwich City, against the Division One champions and the best team in Europe at the time, Liverpool. The clip has been shown so many times that my memory of actually seeing it has been lost to the television footage. But I was there: on concrete steps, on a grey day, in a crowd that moved with the game and a noise that buzzed incessantly with expectation.

Given the speed of the moment, I’d be lying if I said I can now recall the precise build up to the goal without recourse to YouTube. Greg Downs opened the play, passing the ball across to Kevin Bond, who in turn passed it to John Ryan on the right. I was at the other end of the pitch, sandwiched between the crash barrier and advertising hoardings at the front of the River End and to the left of the goal. Dad was a few rows back on the steps, peering over the heads of the crowd and making sure I was ok. My view was pitch-level and I know I was ‘in the moment’. After all, the game was already one of the best I’d ever seen, with an early Martin Peters goal making it 1-0 Norwich. Then Liverpool struck twice, 1-2, before Kevin Reeves equalised to make it 2-2 at half-time. Part-way through the second half, David Fairclough completed his hat-trick to put Liverpool ahead once more. With fifteen minutes to go, the game was in the balance and my head was a blur of yellow and green and red.

Then it happened. Do I really remember how Ryan knocked the ball forward to Fashanu on the edge of the area and then made a run towards the wing expecting a return pass? Do I really remember what I actually saw as Fashanu – facing away from goal – flicked the ball with his right foot so it moved goal side and allowed him to turn and volley it with his left foot? I’m not sure. But I do remember the roar and, in the depths of my mind, I think I remember the surge of excitement that ran through me as the ball curled over and around Ray Clemence and into the net. Only that night, when I was allowed to stay up and watch Match of the Day, did I see Fashanu’s own response to his moment of magic. He just jogged two steps, began to walk back to the centre circle, and slowly raised his right hand, one finger in the air as if to say ‘number one’. In that moment, as the score turned to 3-3, he was top of the world. More than that, he was top of my world and our world as Norwich City supporters. One of our own, we’d now say: one of our own.

As it was, Kenny Dalglish and Jimmy Case made sure Liverpool went home victorious. But in the cultural memory it was Fashanu’s goal that ‘won’. It also marked something of a turning point for Fashanu. Clubs began to take an interest and he later left for Brian Clough’s Nottingham Forest, the £1,000,000 price tag – a first for a Black player – hanging heavy on his shoulders. His career nose-dived, eventually leading to his turning out for countless clubs across the world as he searched to rekindle that moment in front of the Barclay Stand at Carrow Road in 1980 when he was untouchable. He’d always known adversity, growing up as a Barnardo’s boy and making his way in front of often hostile 1970/80s crowds that targeted Black players with racial chants and invective. As a result, Fashanu struggled with fame and attention, falling foul of the law and never settling at any club that he moved to. Then, in 1990, he came out as gay: the first footballer to do so. An estrangement from his brother (John Fashanu) followed. Justin eventually committed suicide in 1998, aged just 37.

Fashanu’s end was tragic. But his life should be remembered as pioneering. He broke down barriers and paved the way, both as a Black footballer and as a gay man. At the time, I didn’t understand or even recognise the significance of his skin colour (and was unaware of his sexuality). For me he was ‘Fash’, Justin Fashanu, a Norwich hero who played alongside Martin Peters and Kevin Keelan and Graham Paddon in a team known for its skilful football. When he scored a hat-trick against Stoke on the first game of the 1980–81 season, I remember thinking he’d be the best centre-forward I’d ever get to see. So looking back, I’ll remember that goal and that moment when Fashanu was the toast of Norwich City. But I’ll also remember his struggles and how he made a difference. When I watch the clip again it is the faces of his team-mates that tell the story. They knew he’d done something unbelievable. They knew he was top of the world … On the ball, City.

For the full highlights, see: 09/02/1980 Norwich City v Liverpool – YouTube

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Prof Matt Worley is a Professor in Modern History at the University of Reading, specialising in twentieth-century youth (sub-)culture and popular music, as well as political history, communism, socialism, and fascism.

All comments and opinions presented in this article are that of the author.

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