Tommo, who is one of the club’s icons, starts a new job as kitman at League Two club Stevenage later in the week, and therefore ends his second spell at the club which has lasted two seasons.

“I really couldn’t turn the offer from Stevenage down,” he said.

“I wanted to go back into the full time game, it’s where I want to be. If I turned this opportunity down, there might not be another chance.”

Stevenage have just appointed former Spurs and Manchester United striker Teddy Sheringham as their new boss, and Tommo said; “I’m looking forward to working with him. It’s been great second time round at Darlington, I’ll miss everyone. It was a great way to end the season by winning the play offs.”

Everyone at the club would like to wish Tommo all the best in his new adventure.

As a tribute, here’s his contribution to the popular book, “In the Dying Seconds” (copies of which are still available).

His memories start with the Trophy semi final second leg at Gateshead.

The five minutes of stoppage time at Gateshead seemed like a lifetime, and after about a minute had gone I looked at Mark Cooper, and I noticed that he had some headphones on. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Listening to whale sounds, it helps me relax” he replied. I’ve been on the touchline with many Darlo managers, but none of them had done that before. Richard Dryden was up and down like a jack in the box, I sat there trying to stay calm, and eventually the ref blew his final whistle. I quickly celebrated on the pitch with some of the lads, and ran back to the dressing room before the fans could grab me. I didn’t fancy being carried shoulder high!

I really thought that getting to Wembley was the end of the club’s troubles, and it was a fantastic feeling getting there for the third time. The dressing room was bouncing, so I made sure I stayed out of the way of the lads after past experience!

The journey back to Darlo down the A1 was surreal. I sat at the front of the bus with Coops and Drydo drinking champagne out of paper cups, with the happy feeling that the dark clouds over the club had been lifted.

It was brilliant to be closely involved in the build up, and I wanted to enjoy it as much as possible, although I had to pay for my matchday suit! Ian Miller had a contact at Burtons, and did a deal for the whole squad, but the club wouldn’t foot the bill, so we all had to pay £35 each. I think it was the first time I’d worn a club suit, and I was really proud to wear it. I’d been given a blazer and trousers before by Alan Murray and Eddie Kyle when they were at the club, but that was all.

I had a bit of a panic in the week before Wembley, because we didn’t have any kit. After the second Gateshead game, Graeme Fordy said that he would provide the kit, but it was only delivered on the Thursday before the game, so I stayed really late at the ground putting on names, numbers and insignia. There didn’t seem to be much urgency on the part of the club to make sure the kit was delivered, and yet there I was preparing for the biggest game of my life. I must have checked that kit a dozen times late that Thursday night.

The players had wanted to go down to London on the Thursday to prepare an extra day but the club refused to pay for it, so I suppose going southwards on Friday was a blessing as far as the kit was concerned.

The players were worried that everything would be rushed on the Friday, because we were having a training session at QPR’s facilities, and then going to Wembley at 4pm for a look around before we went to our hotel in Paddington near the middle of London. There was a risk that we would be delayed in traffic and have to skip the trip to Wembley.

But thankfully everything went smoothly. The stadium was so vast, and so overwhelming. What a glorious place for a big game. Of course, we had a squad picture taken on the pitch.

There were tears in my eyes when I laid the kit out in the changing rooms, I felt so emotional. Our bus driver was with me, and he filmed me laying the kit out – and I still haven’t played the film back. I laid the kit out in numerical order, even though I knew the team. The dressing rooms were completely different to the old changing rooms at Wembley, there was loads of space, a manager’s room, a physio’s room, a warm up room and televisions everywhere.

I slept really well on Friday night – probably because I’d had a few beers.

Something went slightly wrong with the arrangements on the morning of the game. A pre match meal was supposed to have been ordered before we set off for the ground, but it didn’t transpire, so instead Coops and Drydo had to try and organize some beans on toast for the players.

I had my own little mishap. I really couldn’t manage to put my tie in a Windsor knot, and even though Jamie Chandler and Terry Cooper both tried to do it for me, they gave up. How often do I wear a tie?

It was the biggest game of my Darlington career.  It was the first time I’d had the opportunity to sit on the bench at Wembley. I was upset in 1996, because I’d been on the bench all season, but then on the morning of the game I didn’t get a pass – manager Jim Platt said that other people might not get another chance. So instead I sat in the stand with the staff, although I managed to get on the pitch at the end of the game. I’d been on the pitch the day before – I kicked a ball around with Peter Kirkham!

In 2000, Peter Darke was the kit man, and so I went on the staff bus and sat in the stand. I only met up with the players after the game.

So this game was compensation if you like. Coops and Drydo both said I could sit on the bench with them, so I was grateful for their kindness.  People said good luck to me, and in reply I told them that I wasn’t coming back empty handed.

It was my first visit to the new Wembley. When I walked out on to the pitch, I thought the place was awesome, much better than the pictures I’d seen on television. To be a part of the day was something special. There are people who have been in the game a lot longer than I have, that haven’t been to Wembley in a working capacity.

I can’t remember much about the bus journey to the ground, I was that emotional. I certainly didn’t see many landmarks or fans that I knew, mainly because I was in tears for most of the way. I was so proud that I was on the bus, sat in the crew seat right at the front. Honestly, I couldn’t see anybody for tears, so if you waved at me when the bus was travelling up to the stadium and I didn’t wave back, now you know why!

In the stadium, I walked up the tunnel towards the pitch, and I bumped into Steve Foster, who had left Darlington the season before and eventually joined Mansfield. He came over and hugged me; I guess he knew how much Wembley meant to me after he’d got to know me when he joined Darlo.

Coops then gave one of the best team talks I’d ever heard from a Darlington manager, and I’ve heard a few over the years!. He told the players to play the game and not the occasion, and to win the game most of all for their families and friends. It was really stirring stuff, and got the players in a really determined frame of mind for the game ahead.

The players went and warmed up, and when they returned to the dressing room for the last time, Coops emphasised the same point – play the game, and not the occasion. I looked at Jamie Chandler, and said: “Go and get that Trophy”.

I followed the players out the dressing room with Coops, Drydo and pyhsio Ali Logan up the tunnel and walked to our seats. I was proud as punch to be there, at the side of the pitch, looking towards the lads with 10,000 Darlington fans behind me. While the national anthem was played, I looked around the stadium in awe – I didn’t sing the anthem because I don’t know the words!

The match itself was like any other. Coops didn’t change his tactics radically because there was no point. We hit the woodwork a couple of times, Tommy Wright missed a header, and I was beginning to think that it was never going to happen. The ninety minutes ended, and I went around the players telling them that they could win in extra time.

The extra thirty minutes dragged on and on without many chances at all, and like everyone else I started to think about penalties. Trouble was, I looked at who was sat next to me on the bench. Coops had used all three of his subs – Aman Verma for Gary Smith, Chris Senior for John Campbell, and Paul Terry for Marc Bridge-Wilkinson. When we’d talked about a penalty shootout in training, those three people sitting next to me were going be in our chosen first five! So I wasn’t too confident about winning on penalties, I thought it was going to be so, so typical of Darlo because we hadn’t won a penalty shootout for ages. Was it going to be a Darlo trait at Wembley? Were we ever destined to win here? I wondered.

I checked for the umpteenth time how long was left with the fourth official, and just as he raised his board to signal a minute’s stoppage time (at least I think it was), we won a throw in on the left. I looked at the scoreboard, 119 minutes had gone.

Aaron Brown launched the ball into the penalty area. Dusty Miller helped it on, the keeper flapped, and Tommy Wright headed against the bar. The ball came down – it seemed very, very slowly – and there was Chris Senior, the littlest man on the field, to put it away into the top corner. Goal!!!

I looked at the linesman and then the referee to make sure they weren’t disallowing it. I saw Coops jump off the bench and run on to the pitch. I jumped off the bench as well, thinking about doing the same, but Drydo told me to sit down because the game wasn’t over! I turned round and saw Coops join in the celebrations with the players near the corner flag. What a moment! I looked at the crowd, every Darlo fan was celebrating wildly.

The ref, to his credit, took account of the circumstances, ran over to Coops and quietly told him to get off the field.

Everyone had to calm down somehow after that, especially when Mansfield won a free kick near our penalty area. I was literally past myself. Considering that we’d conceded so many late goals in the league season, surely we weren’t going to concede another?

Talk about having my heart in my mouth as Mansfield prepared the free kick, the tension was enormous. I could feel it everywhere, on the field, on the bench, in the crowd behind me.

In came the free kick, and I can vividly remember the ball being cleared by Dusty Miller. The ref then put his whistle to his lips for the last time – and as soon as he did so, I ran on the pitch and hugged the first player I came to! Then Jamie Chandler ran over and jumped on me, and we all celebrated. I had a tremendous feeling of elation, words just couldn’t describe how I felt. We went crazy for five minutes and celebrated in front of the fans – I was that emotional, I still didn’t recognise any one I knew through the tears.

A Wembley official then told the players and the management team to start walking up the steps to the royal box. I was happy to stand at pitch level and watch the proceedings but Drydo then looked at me and said: “Tommo, you’re going up with us to pick up a medal.” I refused and pointed out it was the lads’ moment, but he said; “It’s yours as well.”

I didn’t know what to say, I was flabbergasted and very thankful at the same time. I started walking up the steps and for the first time, I recognised somebody – my brother. He grabbed my arm, and we hugged each other.

It seemed like an eternity to go up the steps, especially when we went out of sight at the top of the first flight under the stand. I climbed up to the Royal Box, and I looked over to all the fans cheering, shouting and singing. It was another very emotional moment.

All the players lifted the Trophy, and were cheered by the fans. Then it came to my turn, and when I lifted it, I thought; “This thing is heavy!”  Tony Elliott, the goalkeeping coach thought it would be better for me if he lifted me up, and at that point, I really thought that I was going to overbalance with the Trophy! I received one of the biggest cheers of the afternoon from the fans. I was so, so proud.

I walked back down the steps, and joined in the celebrations. I was handed the Trophy again, I walked over to the fans, lifted it above my head, and there was another huge roar.

When we lined up to dive in front of the fans, I was a bit behind the others, and I nearly dived into Sam Russell’s boot! I must admit, after three visits to Wembley, I really milked the victory. I’m sure all the other Darlo fans felt the same way.

Eventually, we went back to the changing rooms. Nigel, our bus driver and my roommate, said that he would gather and tidy up the kit, so then I could join in more celebrations in the Bobby Moore Suite.

But by the time I got there, the bar was closed, but Alan Murray gave me a bottle of lager, and then former Darlo keeper David Stockdale came over and gave me a Fulham shirt. Steve Foster then came over – I’d managed to see him through my tears and shake his hand after the final whistle – and gave me a big hug and said well done. That finished the day off nicely.

Two of the lads were still downstairs in the changing room area having drugs tests – Jamie Chandler and Phil Gray. Jamie managed to produce a sample, but Phil just couldn’t, even though he drunk crates and crates of bottled water. We turned the taps on everywhere just to encourage him, but nothing worked until nearly 8pm!

I travelled home on the bus with about half a dozen other people on a high. I really felt that finally all the doom and gloom hanging over the club had been lifted.

[caption id="attachment_12214" align="alignnone" width="189"] Tommo with the FA Trophy (well, the two parts of it)[/caption]

For me, a big disappointment was the release of Chris Senior just before we started the victory parade. Everyone was buzzing and we were drinking vodka and orange, and then Coops called Chris into his office and told him that he was being released. Maybe Chris saw it coming and there’d been one or two rumblings previously, but for me, the timing was awful and Coops could have waited.

Nevertheless, we still had a great evening, and we partied the night away.

I really thought that we had a great chance of winning the Conference and going back to the Football League, especially when we signed James Walshaw from Guiseley.

He looked red hot in the pre season friendlies and scored plenty of goals, and considering that he’d scored 40 in the division below the previous season, I thought that he would be the man to provide the goals. I phoned people up and told them that they should back him to be the Conference’s top scorer. And with Coops bringing in some other new players, I really thought all the bad stuff had gone.

But results didn’t go our way, and the gloom was gathering when we played at Bath in early October. Bath had struggled to win games all season, but they managed to beat us and that increased the pressure on everyone.

Coops held on to his job, but when we lost at Braintree a fortnight later, his stay was over. We were dreadful at Braintree, it was the most embarrassing performance I’d seen during my time at the club. We conceded a bad goal and I put my head in my hands in the dugout, but Drydo told me to stop doing it, because that sent out the wrong signals.

But two days after Braintree, I received a phone call from Coops saying that he and Drydo had been sacked. I said I was sorry to hear that, and I thanked him for what they had done for me.

Craig Liddle took over from Coops in time to take charge for the FA Cup ties against Hinckley. We drew at our place, and went down to Leicestershire for the replay a few days later. We missed loads of chances in the first half and that cost us. Hinckley recovered, and beat us 3-0.

To me, it was an embarrassing night, beaten by a bunch of part timers. I stormed into the changing room afterwards, and most uncharacteristically, lost my temper with some of them. I just released my pent up frustration about the dismal performance and shouted; “That’s the first time this club has never been involved in the first round of the FA Cup.”  It just came out, I’ve never done that before or since.

Some players were arguing loudly with each other, and were in danger of getting out of hand. Lidds threw his top on the floor, and shouted that I was right. Lidds said a few more things, and it went deathly quiet in the changing room.

We were embarrassed and ashamed at our defeat, and quickly left for our bus. I sat near the front of what was a very quiet bus, but the general silence was broken by Exodus Geohaghan, whom I didn’t really like, singing “Chairman, pay me up.” I thought that was disrespectful towards the chairman. There was no need for it.

A few days later, the pay cuts were suggested, and they were met with disbelief by the players, one or two of whom left pretty quickly. John Campbell was one of the early ones to go, Ian Miller left just before Christmas.

We were rapidly going downhill, and we all expected administration. Sure enough, it was all formally announced the day after the Gateshead game on New Year’s Day.

Lidds was called into a meeting, and afterwards, he rang me and told me that I was out of a job, just like many other people at the club. The only ones that were being kept on were Colin Galloway, Jason Lees, and Lidds.

I told Lidds I was refusing it, and wanted a meeting with Harvey Madden, the administrator. I went to the club, where there were hardly any lights on, and it was freezing cold because the heating had been turned off. There was nobody in the offices apart from the administration team, plus Andy Wilson and Andy Johnson from the club. I told Andy Wilson I had a proposition for the administrator, that I would work for nothing if it helped to keep the club alive.

I then spoke to Harvey, who said that he knew me from his cricketing days! I repeated my offer to work for nothing, and he took me up on it. I must admit I was a bit frustrated with other people in the room, and complained that after just a few months after our greatest day at Wembley, we were back to square one.

Later in the season, Harvey paid me half my salary as a gesture of thanks. I got on well with Harvey – I didn’t hold any bitterness towards him, after all, he was there to do a job and possibly save my club from closure.

We prepared for the Barrow game in the best way we could, but it was difficult because  of all the uncertainty surrounding the club.

It was the third time that the club had been in administration, and everyone was wondering if somebody would come forward to save the club. It really seemed as if the Barrow away game would be the club’s last ever. The Northern Echo started an appeal away, as did the Uncovered messageboard, who came along on the morning of the Barrow game with a bagful of money to share out amongst the players. Amazing.

I’d heard that there was a chance that the Rescue Group might do something, but I really thought that this was the last game – so I was bubbling again!

I admit it now, it was my idea to tape over the sponsors’ logo and blank it out, because I was so frustrated about what had happened. Lidds and Harvey told me off later, because they needed to keep Raj onside. It was a daft thing to do, I suppose.

The turnout of Darlo fans at that game was unbelievable, there were over a thousand in the away end. The players wanted to turn out and win the game just for the fans, but there had been so much upheaval and emotion during the week, plus all the intense media interest, I didn’t think we’d win the game. It all became a bit of a circus, but great publicity for the club.

We lost the game, which was no surprise. I was that emotional on the final whistle, I went straight back to the dressing rooms. The lads went back outside to speak to the fans, and then I discovered that they’d been giving their shirts away! Fortunately, there were still enough left for the next game, should there be one.

I went outside on to the bus, but then the supporters persuaded me to get off it again for a group photo. One last photo, somebody said. Never might a truer word have been said – was this really the end?

The following day, I went to the stadium, washed all the gear, then packed it away in the usual place. I wondered whether I’d done the job for the last time.

Bewildering Wednesday.

I arrived at the ground for a meeting just before midday. The car park was full of cars from the media – tv, radio and newspapers – and curious supporters. I couldn’t get into reception because the door was locked, and at that point a reporter from Sky Sports, Mark Dexter, shoved his microphone under my nose and asked me a question: “Is the club going to survive?” I replied: “Fingers crossed.”

Jason Lees opened the door for me, and I went into the players’ lounge. Harvey entered the room, and started reading a prepared statement. His voice actually went, and he broke down and cried!

I was in shock because of what he’d already said, that the club was closing. Harvey pulled himself together, and asked if there were any questions. I asked him one, but he couldn’t answer it, so with my voice breaking, I retorted “So what’s the point of asking for questions?” and walked out of the room.

The lads started taking pictures and framed shirts from the walls as mementoes. I’d had my fill of it all, and I opened up the door of my kit room and invited them to help themselves. Chris Senior rang me to ask if it was true about the club, and I broke down in tears.

Meanwhile, Harvey had left the players’ lounge and walked upstairs to the directors room. I don’t know exactly what happened next, but Lidds then started rounding everybody up for another meeting in the dressing room. It turned out that some members of the Rescue Group had turned up with £50,000 to keep the club going. Lidds pleaded with the players to stay, but Aaron Brown said he couldn’t, because he had lost his cottage at the Croft Spa, and his wife was heavily pregnant in the south west. I pleaded to the players: “Please, please, lads, play.”

Enough of them stayed, Aaron changed his mind, and the following Saturday, over 5,000 people turned up for the home game against Fleetwood. At that point, I thought the club would be ok, and we’d ridden out another storm.

Harvey kept constantly updated, but every Wednesday he seemed to report that another interested bidder had pulled out. I showed Paul Wildes around the ground one day, and we had a chat. I told him what I thought was wrong, that people had been promised so much and been let down, that ticket prices were too high. He said that he could make it work – but he decided eventually that he couldn’t. I always remember something that Harvey said back in January – that the club needed to leave the Arena in order to survive. He was 100 per cent right, it was too expensive to run.

After the last game against Kettering, I washed and dried the kits as usual and put them away. I collected my stuff, and handed my keys in. That was it, the end of my career at Darlington FC.

[caption id="attachment_12215" align="alignnone" width="300"] A young Tommo with David Speedie[/caption]