Still 'going to the football'

I am of course referring to my support for Arsenal Football Club. From about the age of thirteen I have been a regular spectator, and I held a season ticket for around seventeen years before my accident.

I was discharged from Rehab at the beginning of Arsenal's final season at the old Highbury ground, and I made every effort to attend one last game before the move. This involved contacting the Disability Liaison Officer in order to get on the list as a disabled supporter. The 'tickets' were free at the old stadium, and the facilities consisted of a flat concrete area right by the pitch.

I expected the experience of going to a match to be familiar, a way of resuming something that I enjoyed before my accident. But it was different. I was different, wondering what was going to happen if we scored. Would I have a 'Lourdes moment' and leap to my feet, cured of my spinal injury, whilst simultaneously incurring the wrath of everyone around me who would assume I was just scamming a free seat?

The other thing that changed was the angle. Now I remained seated throughout the game, which, combined with the camber of the pitch and our close proximity to it, meant that when the action shifted to the far side I couldn't see below the knees of the players, and I had to play some kind of flowing spot the ball competition.

With many grounds, access for disabled supporters is a legacy from the days when football clubs were owned by successful local businessmen and were seen as a way of putting something back into the community. Much of the capacity was increased to cater for disabled 'heroes' coming back from the war/s. I doubt there would have been a consultation process or any other attempt to involve disabled people in the design.

I left at the end of the match, glad to have said farewell to the old ground, but saddened to realise that yet another part of my life had changed forever.

Then came the time to renew my ticket and move to my team's new home at the Emirates stadium. My friends who had all sat with me at Highbury were adamant that we all go and renew together, even though this meant waiting an extra three months as the club hadn't begun to allocate disabled tickets.

Only a few months out of hospital, this would be the first major public encounter where my access needs had to be taken into consideration. I spent a lot of time worrying about my approach and the kind of response I was likely to face. My confidence leapt when we were greeted with a look of panic on the face of the seventeen year old who had the job of allocating our seats.

I introduced myself, explaining that my circumstances had changed since I last renewed my ticket but was assuming this wouldn't be a problem. After several frantic calls, the all-clear was finally given. It was too early to get seat numbers, but from a computer generated image of the new stadium, we reserved the disabled seat, with my friends taking the ones immediately in front, and received a booking reference.

Later, when we received our seat numbers, we realised that the architects had bowed to pressure and found a way of squeezing in an extra three rows between me and my friends. I doubt they would have been so casual about splitting up two rows of normal seats that had been booked together.

My season ticket is half price for two, which allows me to bring a companion, but the other disappointment came with the discovery that their seat is behind rather than next to me, as if they would have no interest in the game.

Us disabled supporters are on a raised concrete plinth, tucked up under the upper tier with the big screen nowhere in sight. According to other disabled fans, someone realised at the last minute that if we were on the level, and everyone else stood up, we wouldn't be able to see anything. But for all that, the view is fantastic, rather like a very widescreen TV.

Yes, it's different. Yes, I can no longer sit with my friends. Yes, I can't see the replays or team-sheets without bending double, and yes, I am troubled by the widespread and blatant abuse of the Blue Badge scheme that takes place in the streets surrounding the stadium. But I probably wouldn't be able to afford to go were it not for my disability, and the unspecified companion slot has enabled me to treat various people to their first visit to an Arsenal game. I am often the 'hot ticket'. And, most important of all, I'm still 'Going To The Football'.

• What was your first big public appearance since becoming disabled? How did it pan out? Tell us about it in the comments below.