Allow me to begin this column with a quote from my late father “do you want to go to the Bayern Munich game” 35 years have passed since then but I recall that moment like it was yesterday.

The family was gathered round the breakfast table at our family home in Newburgh a few days before the second leg at Pittodrie. I had been here before when my dad had asked if I wanted to go to the 1982 Scottish Cup Final but now I was a year older with emotions developing and my instant reaction was one of excitement coupled with that sense of warmth flowing through the body knowing I was going to the game!

That cold March night, Wednesday the 16th 1983, as if I needed to remind you my dad secured three tickets for the Main Stand directly above the players tunnel – what a treat! As I took my seat thirty minutes before kick-off I discovered to my horror that a stanchion obstructed my view towards the Merkland Road stand. I looked up at dad and said “you have to be kidding” he instantly replied quite sternly with “just be grateful that you’re here” I slumped back into my sausage roll well and truly put in my place!

The side Alex Ferguson picked that night was arguably the best he could have possibly selected. The Germans started strongly and it was no surprise when they took the lead, Klaus Augenthaler smashing the ball high into the net from 25 yards. All around us it was quiet for the first time since we entered the stadium.

The Dons looked out of it for long parts of the first half but as I fully hoped and expected, found a way back into the match when Neil Simpson equalized after some good work by Mark McGhee and Eric Black in the build-up. “Stand free” and “come on you reds” bellowed out across the night sky. Back then I still had no understanding of the away goal so as we stood in the queue for our half-time refreshment dad explained to me that the Dons needed to score another as Bayern actually led the tie on the away goals rule. I still felt confident we could do it!

35 years on the next 45 minutes is like nothing I have ever experienced before or likely to again. The boys started the second half brightly but then the unimaginable happened. Bayern scored again! Hans Pfugler connected with a superb volley as Alex McLeish attempted to clear a cross ball and smashed it home. Pittodrie fell again quiet as the enormity of the task in hand was staring us all in the face. At 2–1 down I, for one, thought it was all over. I asked dad what needed to happen but he just stared into space. Something had to be done so Fergie made a change, bringing on John Hewitt for the closing stages of the game. What happened next I have no doubt will stay with those who were fortunate enough to be there that night for the rest of their days?

First the free kick that fooled everybody, a moment of pure genius from Gordon Strachan and John McMaster which had been worked on in training just a few days before the game. Everyone in the stadium gave out a huge sigh when both pretended to confuse each other. I couldn’t believe it but within the blink of an eye the ball was delivered into the box and big Alex McLeish headed home the equaliser. Pittodrie came alive again.

Almost as soon as I had taken my seat after the celebrations I looked up and saw the ball being delivered into the box. As dad and the folk around us slowly came off their seats, Eric Black got his head to the ball. As dad came up a little higher, Black headed towards goal. dad sat up a little higher still, fists clenched, jaw agape, I couldn’t see what was happening; he was in front of me as was that great big iron pillar! As I tried to push my way through, Bayern’s goalkeeper palmed the ball down, a gasp rose from the crowd, John Hewitt was there, he connected and then bedlam!!

All around us people were going berserk, the players were running towards the 18-yard box, dad was jumping up and down; mum was cheering and clapping like a woman demented. Had we scored again? I shouted to dad, grabbing him; “What’s happened?” He looked down at me, “They’ve scored again, kiddo, they’ve scored again.” I must confess to feeling a bit lost at that point. I didn’t understand what had happened. Did we need to score again because of the away goal? “dad, dad,” I shouted, “Do we need another goal?” “No,” he roared back, “we’re winning 3–2, we’re winning.” I couldn’t believe it. We had turned the game on its head and heading towards the semi-finals. At that moment Pittodrie did move, the whole place lifted off its foundations by 25,000 screaming fans – my God what a moment!

The closing minutes of that game were almost unbearable. It seemed like an age before the referee finally blew his whistle to bring the game to an end. The full-time whistle was met with jubilation. Pittodrie was electric. As the team made their way off the park I stood on my seat cheering, clapping and singing. We stayed behind to enjoy the atmosphere as the team re-appeared for a lap of honour no less! What an achievement and what a game. I didn’t want to leave Pittodrie that night!