My 25-year journey following the Sky Blues

It was an emotional time for everyone when we were finally promoted. Part of the reason LAST has started again was the reaction I got from the post I put up. George, whose Dad Robin will be well known to many London Supporters Club members, has written this piece. Everything really does come full circle.

If you have a similar story and would like to share it on LAST please contact me.

Over to George, thanks for sharing!

My 25-year journey following the Sky Blues 

It’s almost exactly 25 years to the day since my first football match. Saturday 21st May 2001 – the final day of the Premier League season. Coventry City 0 – 0 Bradford City.

My memory of the game itself is unsurprisingly sketchy. After witnessing two already relegated sides play out a tedious bore draw, almost everyone without exception left Highfield Road that day feeling utterly depressed. This early encounter with live football could easily have permanently scarred my 7-year-old self. But as is often the way, from the moment I stepped out of the concourse and took in my surroundings, I was hooked. 

My parents moved down from the West Midlands to London in the ‘80s when my dad got a job in the civil service. Growing up as a Cov fan in Croydon was a fairly unusual experience. Most kids in the school playground didn’t even recognise the badge on my replica kit. On the upside, this meant I would often escape the teasing dished out to similarly downtrodden Crystal Palace supporters. Other than the famous League Cup win at Old Trafford in 2008, when I lorded it over some puzzled-looking United glory-hunters, our existence was irrelevant. This didn’t put a stop to my obsession, though. If anything, I wore it as a badge of honour. 

My dad was always adamant I could have supported a more fashionable club in London if I wanted to. Looking back though, I never really stood a chance. I remember when I started primary school, and the pictures on my wall of Noddy and Thomas the Tank Engine being replaced with posters of John Salako and Phill Babb. The writing was on the wall back then.

We regularly travelled up to games with the Coventry City London Supporters Club. As a shy youngster, I was intrigued by this group of strangers seemingly bound by a love of jaunting to far away towns to drink warm beer and watch mediocre football. I’ve since formed great friendships with many members of the community. The camaraderie and sense of adventure involved with visiting new grounds has always been a huge source of enjoyment for me. As have, of course, the countless pubs we’ve visited along the way.

Watching football was deeply woven into my relationship with my dad. I’ve got many fond memories, like the time he came home from work and handed me Jimmy Hill’s old wallet, apparently left down the back of a colleague’s sofa in the 70s. Or when he called me up at an CCLSC awards and put me straight on the phone to Mo Konjic, who asked me in his deep, raspy voice which position I played. Centre half, of course, like my idol. 

Standing next to my old man on the terraces was always the highlight of the week, from the early days in the Championship to those long trips to Forest Green Rovers and Accrington Stanley in League Two. He was a very loving dad, afflicted by a characteristic struggle of men of his generation to truly express his emotions. This made it all the more special whenever we celebrated an important goal together, including at two wonderful Wembley outings at the start of the club’s rise. 

When he died suddenly at 62 from Covid in January 2021, my whole world turned upside down. A huge presence in my life had gone forever, not to mention the root cause of my devotion to the Sky Blues. For a couple of years afterwards I struggled to motivate myself to go to games, the thought of travelling up without him too painful to overcome. I’ve since taken a lot of comfort reminiscing about him with friends and family, and raising the odd glass of Plum Porter on matchdays. Our recent success has still felt incredibly bittersweet, and I know there will be countless others who feel the same about their lost loved ones. 

My life transformed again when my wife gave birth to our first-born child, Teddy, in February 2026. Watching us get promoted on telly against Blackburn with him lying in my arms certainly felt like a full circle moment after that fateful day 25 years ago. While the rest of the Sky Blue fanbase celebrated wildly, Teddy and I quietly cracked open a bottle of formula. 

A debate is currently raging in our house about who he might support when he’s older, my wife being a West Ham season ticket holder (an easy choice right now, you’d think). It’s unbelievable to think that should he choose to follow in his dad’s footsteps, he may only ever know Premier League football… but perhaps I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Whatever our fortunes hold, if it’s anything like the last quarter of a century, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.