Sunday lunchtimes were always memorable: Family Favourites on the radio, chicken and sprouts for the main course and The Big Match booming out melodiously from the family kitchen.

It was the idyllic teenage TV landscape for those simply besotted with 70s football. The Big Match meant different things to different people. For those at school it was pure escapism; for one hour a week we could lose ourselves in footie fantasy land; a land of dodgy haircuts, muddy pitches and commentators with sheepskins. They may sound like 70s stereotypes but these were the images that defined our generation.

In a world that had already given us power cuts and the Winter of Discontent; The Big Match was a joyous release from maths homework and French verbs. It was that one glorious moment when we could finally kick off our platform shoes and plunge into football paradise. After a week of academic hell and drudgery we simply drowned in the heaven that was 70s football.

The Big Match was the answer to every boyhood's dreams. There was the big musical introduction; the famous clichés featuring Norman Hunter and Franny Lee with boxing gloves; we also had those famous glam rock pop stars Charlie George and Stan Bowles in full garish make up. There were the long, lingering close ups of old Cup Finals, brilliant goals from Tony Currie and Dennis Tueart scissor kicking his way to a League Cup Final medal for Manchester City.

And then there was Brian Moore; the master of ceremonies; a presenter extraordinaire and the football monarch of all who he surveyed; he was the endearing uncle who everybody loved and cherished. Moore was a football encyclopaedia who knew every player and chairman in the land. Moore had all of the human qualities most of us have envied- certainly the players and managers he interviewed. He had integrity that none of us questioned and on screen charisma that always enchanted.

Every four years ITV presented us with its flagship World Cup programme. Who will ever forget the 1970 World Cup? THE Big Match invented football expert panels and, as such its pioneers. Suddenly we had an explosion of colour. There were the larger than life characters, fruity language and learned comments. Above all there were the fashions and clothes of the period.

The panel was like a Who's Who of the football community. There was the brazen flamboyance of marvellous , a man of big cigars and hilarious one-liners. Allison created some wonderful teams but when it came tact, Allison's mouth seemed to run away with him.

Next to Allison, was Paddy Crerand, Manchester United legend and the quiet man of the panel. Crerand offered us common sense and the voice of reason. Crerand was the fashion icon of his age; he also gave Allison one hell of a footballing argument. All kipper ties and bucketloads of wisdom. Derek Dougan was the Wolves striker who was built like a telegraph pole. Dougan spoke with all the eloquence of his nation and Allison certainly knew it. He was an Irish giant with a heart of gold and when Dougan played the game, defenders would look up to him with boundless admiration. When Dougan was on the panel, every woman fell hopelessly in love with the velvety Irish accent. It was the voice that reminded you of coffee, rolling Irish hills and a pint of Guinness. Dougan was the original footballing poet.

Finally, there was Brian Clough. Clough was the heavyweight bruiser who took no prisoners. When Clough landed a punch most of the World Cup panel felt it. Clough was the opinionated know-all who spoke his mind and didn't care if it offended. He was forthright, straightforward and almost muscular in his honesty.

When Brian Moore sadly passed away in 1998, a small slice of footballing magic went with it. The Big Match was everything that most male teenagers aspired to; the smooth professionalism of a Moore and the charm of a Paddy Crerand. Never again will we see its like.