The FA Cup - certainly England's finest treasur

Anyway here we are on Guy Fawkes night, a night of noisy fireworks and gorgeous colours in the early evening darkening skies. It remains one of Britain's most enduring spectacles and one of its most boisterous of all traditions. Families, and particularly, children gather together in eager expectation of bangers, sparklers, catherine wheels and a remarkable sight. It is a yearly event which never ceases to either amaze and astonish, a visual feast to suit all tastes.In many years football and fireworks are just as explosive as each other.

It's the beginning of the FA Cup, English football's most cherished of all prizes. It's a chilly November night, the bonfires are crackling and the smell of Guy Fawkes is richly evocative of Novembers gone by. The FA Cup has now reached the first round, the beginning of the sentence, the start of a new chapter, a non League club fantasy, an exciting adventure into the unknown for Westfields, Harrow Borough, Eeastleigh and that team who play down the road from Uncle Sid.

The FA Cup is all about the dreamers, the fantasists, perhaps the delusional and a competition that, realistically can only be won by those who live in the grandest of stately homes. The FA Cup pits the aristocracy against the working class proletariat. Suddenly the arrival of the FA Cup matches up the have against the have nots, the rich against the humble. and the monied against those with the most threadbare budgets.

In recent years the burnished gold of the FA Cup has been unforgivably devalued by those who refuse to take the competition seriously. It is now more stainless steel rather than the precious diamond it used to be. The FA Cup is still the most thrilling, roller coaster, helter skelter competition that continues to provide the most captivatingly intriguing hold on our emotions.

At the old Wembley Stadium the FA Cup was the loveliest, most democratic and memorable of all sporting days. The FA Cup, in the historic past tense, used to kick off at 3pm, The FA Cup used to dominate the TV schedules on both BBC and ITV because there was little of any significance or value on the other channels. The alternatives were few or far between.

There was the annual build up to the Cup Final with both teams followed almost devotedly from early morning breakfast until that magical afternoon when both the players and managers strolled around the old Wembley Stadium rather like visitors at a Royal Garden Party. Then there was  the magic, excitement, the drama and melodrama which gripped hundreds and thousands of both the most impartial, partisan or objective.

Contrary to popular belief. the FA Cup is not the epitome of romance. It is not a romantic adventure because there can be no love interest or marriage proposals. Nor are there are any palpitating hearts and a Parisian rendezvous in the heart of the Champs Elysses. There are no candle lit dinners, holding of  tender hands nor are there any sentimental violins or passionate alliances on the Danube.

The FA Cup is not a smouldering Mills and Boon book nor is it a splendid paragraph from a Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte classic. Of course there are raging passions and tempestuous tear jerkers but there are no Pride and Prejudice moments or Mr Darcy in all his splendour. There are no bottles of champagnes. mouth watering boxes of chocolates nor are there any references to Valentines Day.

Put simply the FA Cup is about those glorious memories. It is about non League Yeovil conquering all of the odds against the powerful giants of Sunderland, then a post wartime force in the old First Division. Yeovil bathed in the most luminous of all FA Cup glories that distant afternoon and the smile on Yeovil manager Alec Stock could not be removed.

The FA Cup was that special afternoon when Sunderland almost seemed to gain some measure of revenge for the disaster that had taken place over 30 years before. When the final whistle went for  the 1973 FA Cup Final Sunderland, of the old Second Division had beaten, quite heroically, the great Leeds United side of Lorimer, Bremner, Giles, Jones and the normally lethal Alan Clarke were bowed and well and truly beaten. Ian Porterfield, trapping the ball beautifully on his knee, then proceeded to hook home the only winning goal with his devastating feet. Bob Stokoe, that most extrovert of managers, charged onto the Wembley turf and embraced his players in a flurry of coats and hats.

So it is that we settle down on this most colourful nights. The FA Cup has set out on the first leg of its joyous journey, children all over the world will watch their fascinating show of fire and brimstone and Guy Fawkes will join forces with the FA Cup. Somehow they were meant for each other.