It wasn't pretty, but it did at least allow the grass to grow back across the middle of the pitch, and it did bring victories

FAN'S EYE VIEW: No 120 READING BRIAN CODLING

Success in football is an elusive mistress, especially for those poor unfortunate souls who plight their troth to England's smaller clubs. We usually count our victories in small handfuls and are grateful for any minor triumphs. In my defence I can only claim a hereditary defect - my father and grandfather had in their turn stood upon the windswept terraces of Elm Park, and they were careful enough to ensure that subsequent generations of the family should be indoctrinated at an age when they were too young to know any better.

The 1970s were a particularly difficult time. All the kids at school supported Leeds, or Liverpool, with a few oddballs who claimed allegiance to Arsenal or maybe Spurs. Imagine, then, the strain of remaining loyal to a Reading team who had celebrated 100 years of existence in 1971 by being relegated to the Fourth Division. Defeating Aldershot, or managing to avoid being the only team to lose at home to Workington in a season, were to be causes for celebration.

That's not to say that we didn't have our moments. The year Sunderland beat Leeds in the FA Cup final Reading met them in the fourth round, and apart from the first 20 minutes of the replay at Elm Park, when they scored three goals, I thought we played really well...

But success in the league evaded us, and I had left school before we scrambled our way, temporarily, back to the Third Division. It was during one of our "nearly" seasons, when we almost avoided relegation back to the Fourth Division, that Robert Maxwell decided that by merging Reading and Oxford United he could create a new "super" team in the south. Strange chap, Maxwell...

But success was not far off. Ian Branfoot brought his brand of "long ball" footie to Elm Park. It wasn't pretty, but it did at least allow the grass to grow back across the middle of the pitch, and it did bring victories. We won promotion again and then walked away with the Third Division title. Revenge, at last, for all those years of schoolboy torment.

It was not to last, of course. We managed two seasons in the Second before sliding back a division, where we felt more comfortable. But relegation year also saw us at Wembley. Michael Gilkes' final penalty of a shoot- out against Coventry sent us towards the twin towers for the Simod Cup final. Not by any means a Mickey Mouse Cup. No - Simod was the competition to win in 1988 and Reading duly won it: 4-1 against mighty Luton Town (well, they were in the old First Division then). Reading had won at Wembley - and in my lifetime. The pleasure of that somehow made the following seasons of Third Division football bearable again.

We had, however, tasted the good life, and we were to taste it again. We raced away with the Second Division title and, for the third time in 120 years, we were in the second highest division in the league. Season upon season of chasing rare victories at Scunthorpe, Hartlepool and Mansfield were replaced with one glorious year of success. We beat Middlesbrough away, we hammered Wolves at home, in front of real television cameras and, in the final game, we defeated Charlton to finish second.

In any season other than the last, Reading would have won promotion. We would have been playing in the Premier League. As it was, we had to fight through the play-offs. Away to Tranmere we won 3-0 and in a dull second leg we long-suffering fans had time to look around Elm Park in preparation for the visits of Manchester United and Liverpool.

Wembley - for a second time. Within 20 minutes Reading were 2-0 up. It was almost unbelievable. But the bubble burst and, horrifyingly, Bolton hit back to win 4-3. Even now, it is hard to bear...