Chris Hargreaves was one of the Hereford United player that took part in the last game of the 1996/97 season against Brighton. Taken from his book Where's Your Caravan? here's his memory of May 3rd 1997.
The team behind us, Brighton, were picking up points and clawing back the ten-point deficit. Before long, and after a penultimate game lost at Leyton orient, we knew that our fate would be decided on the last game of the season against, of all teams, Brighton.
The stigma attached to relegation back then was huge, especially relegation to the Conference.
The media was obviously on the side of Brighton, their history and glamour, against lowly Hereford United.
The week leading up to that game was pure agony. It was a media frenzy and, with the public's affection for Brighton growing daily, by the time the game kicked off every single TV company was there.
Police horses and dogs separated the fans, helicopters circled overhead, and the ground was packed to the rafters.
The team we had out that day should have won, even with a few players missing. I would never blame anyone for not playing in that last game, such was the fear and pressure upon them, but some didn't and that was their choice.
A few of the lads were physically sick before the game, but with the sun shining and helicopter noises above, the game soon kicked off.
We started well, and after about twenty minutes we took the lead. A cross into the box was cleared, I went up for a header and the ball dropped down to Tony Agana. He controlled it and fired us into the lead.
The dream was on.
But then came the moment that would stay with Hereford United and Brighton fans for years to come.
Our keeper, Andy De Bone, struck a goal kick badly and in the space of a few seasons Robbie Reinelt was clear on goal. He dispatched the chance, and the Brighton supporters went crazy.
The fairytale had happened, but for Brighton.
Minutes before the end, I played a ball over the top for Adrian Foster. I honestly thought he was going to smash it in and give us the victory, but the keeper saved his shot, the whistle was blown and we were down.
Fans on the pitch, police dogs everywhere, and cries of staying up from the Brighton supporters marked the end of the game.
The changing room was silent but for the sound of a few tears. Andy De Bont was inconsolable, Dave Norton, an experienced pro and good friend, was crying as were a far few of the lads, and the manager was stood there motionless.
I locked myself in the toilet and dropped my head in my hands. This was certainly not the outcome I had expected when I had signed.
We would relegated on goal difference, tied with Brighton on 46 points.
It was a surreal experience. I had never felt so much pressure on a football field and I never wanted to again.
Fans on the pitch, police dogs everywhere, and cries of staying up from the Brighton supporters marked the end of the game.
The changing room was silent but for the sound of a few tears. Andy De Bont was inconsolable, Dave Norton, an experienced pro and good friend, was crying as were a far few of the lads, and the manager was stood there motionless.
I locked myself in the toilet and dropped my head in my hands. This was certainly not the outcome I had expected when I had signed.
We would relegated on goal difference, tied with Brighton on 46 points.
It was a surreal experience. I had never felt so much pressure on a football field and I never wanted to again.