Season of my life

Ask a St Mirren fan for their favourite season and you'll probably get one of two answers. If it's someone older than 45, there's a chance they'll go for Fergie's Furies. Any younger and it'll almost certainly be the Millennium Champions.

Thankfully, my mid-forties are still a reasonable bit away so it's the 1999-2000 campaign for me. It was so magical, so memorable, so unexpected that it's miles better than the other two title winning seasons I've been fortunate enough to witness. Only the mad, emotional rollercoaster adventure of The Great Escape in 2017 comes close.

I was a teenager at the time and had little memory of our previous stint in the top flight. The intervening period was hardly a golden age – if I have grandkids it's unlikely they'll want to hear about the time I saw us being humped by Falkirk at a snowy Fir Park in the B&Q Cup Final. What made things worse was every Monday morning you had gloating Rangers fans enjoying their side's march to nine-in-a-row and wondering how anyone could support anyone else.

What I witnessed during the Millennium Champions year went against all that. From nowhere, the team suddenly became an unstoppable, freescoring behemoth. Old scores were settled, big wins were recorded, last minute winners and opposition players being sent off were an almost weekly occurrence and it ended with something those Rangers fans never got to witness – an open top bus parade.

What perhaps makes it even more special is the players involved. For pretty much every one of them – aside from Tom Brown, who had won the Scottish Cup with Kilmarnock a few years earlier – it was pretty much the only honour they ever won. Compare that to the class of 2006, which contained future UEFA Cup finalist Kirk Broadfoot and English Premier League star Charlie Adam. Neither did it have young players who'd go on to fame or fortune elsewhere – whereas midway through the 2017-18 season Lewis Morgan was already Celtic bound.

Given the squad make up, it's perhaps little surprise the Buddies were supposedly second favourites for relegation. There was a glimpse of what may be ahead in pre-season with a shock win over Rangers, but friendlies mean little when the proper action starts. A clearer sign of intent came a few weeks later when a 6-0 shellacking was dished out to Raith Rovers. It was finally revenge for an even heavier defeat just after relegation in 1992 and similar payback would be meted out to Airdrie and Morton in the coming months.

The goals were flying in and the club was the highest scorers in Europe - one of these claims that was easier to get away with in the infancy of the web. Mark Yardley - a ridicule of fun in previous and future seasons - was a man transformed and seemed to score every week alongside strike partner Barry Lavety. I am not unashamed to say Basher is one of my favourite ever Saints players (if not the overall winner) and it was joyous to have him back from Hibs doing what he did best. The fact he - and guys like Barry McLaughlin and Steven McGarry - would have been on the terraces if they weren't playing was an added bonus.

It may just be the rose-tinted glasses effect, but even in the early stages of the season it seemed as if the crowds at Love Street were huge - and not just in the home end. It's hard to think of clubs like Falkirk, Raith Rovers, Dunfermline and even Livingston bringing bigger supports to Paisley and the atmosphere at derbies with Morton has rarely been matched since. I don't really know why that was the case – although given the current situation I imagine younger readers are still recovering from the shock revelation that football matches not only used to take place, but people were allowed in to watch them.

Saints boss Tom Hendrie embarked on a rather bold 3-4-3 approach - one that, funnily enough, didn't really seem to work when we found ourselves at a higher level. For the most part it was Ludovic Roy in goals with Barry McLaughlin and Scott Walker either side of Tommy Turner at the back. Turner's Love Street career had looked finished the previous season after a dispute with a fan while being subbed, yet here he was playing at the back, captaining the side and loving it. His stoppage time winner at home to Raith Rovers was a particular highlight.

In midfield you had Hugh Murray - whose goal at Forthbank in 1998 kept the club in business - usually playing alongside Tom Brown or Sergei Baltacha (I think). If I had to put money on someone to deliver an inch perfect cross it wouldn't be Ronaldo or Beckham, it would be turn of the centry vintage Iain Nicolson or Ian Ross (the latter moved further back due to a horrific injury to Chris Kerr). Their delivery was outstanding, helped in part because they had the giants of Yards and Basher to aim for. Junior Mendes did the running for the big pair, with Steven McGarry also getting his fair share of goals.

Helping drive the team on was the media saying this run was all well and good, but it couldn't last. Not even a stunning win over Dunfermline at Love Street could prove to them the bubble wouldn't burst - and there was a wobble during December and January when Ludovic Roy got injured. Once he was back, it was pretty much normal service.

Nowhere was the team's never-say-die attitude and that desire to prove the doubters wrong more apparent than on a return trip to Kirkcaldy in February 2000. Man Utd might have scored two late goals to beat Bayern Munich in the previous year's Champions League final, but they hadn't gone behind just five minutes from the end. Saints did - only to equalise through Yardley and then grab a winner through Mendes seconds later. Scenes! Limbs!

There may have been a poor defeat to Dunfermline the following week but that was put right in style seven days later with an 8-0 hammering of lowly Clydebank, who had a trialist keeper. Of course, in true Saints style we then drew 0-0 with them a fortnight later while wearing Morton tops at Cappielow. That one is best forgotten.

Back then, there was no transfer window and you could sign players up until the end of March. There seemed to be quite a few occasions when I got home from school to find out we'd signed someone else - who'd have thought news of Gary Bowman's arrival could provoke such excitement? But before the deadline the club upped the stakes by bringing in three new players. Jens Paeslack would certainly prove one to watch, while Ricky Gillies followed in Basher's footsteps by returning home. Also coming in was Paul McKnight from Rangers, who most of us had never heard of.

We entered April top of the pile with six games still to go. Airdrie were dispatched before a home game against Falkirk, the Bairns crying to everyone - including the media - about just how unfair it was they wouldn't be promoted because their ground didn't have 10,000 seats. The fact they had spent money on their squad that could have been used on upgrading Brockville never seemed to get mentioned. Saints, meanwhile, had forked out for a new stand at the Love Street end.

There was early drama when the Bairns' Kevin McAllister fell over the outstretched leg of Ludo Roy. The ref's whistle went instantly and the majority of Saints fans readied themselves for a red card and penalty, only for joy and relief when wee Crunchie was booked for diving. Ludo then went on to have a cracking game as Falkirk were arguably the better side, but 10 minutes from time Saints broke, Steven McGarry took a break from winding up Scott MacKenzie to find McKnight and he coolly slotted the ball into the bottom corner for one of my favourite wins in Paisley.

A week later it was off to Livingston and another nerve-shredding afternoon - not that I was there. I was on holiday in the Highlands and in these days before Twitter and Livescore, it was a case of following on the radio hoping for news of a goal, while also praying no news was good news. After McGarry's opener was cancelled out, big Yards forced the ball home for a 2-1 win that ensured a play-off spot at worse.

My holidays ended with a mad dash home to Ayr with Saints fans packing the away end at Somerset Park (although I'm not sure that was what caused the pie van to go on fire pre-kick off). A tense first half was goalless, although Ayr did have Neil Tarrant and manager Gordon Dalziel dismissed. If Saints won and Dunfermline didn't we were champions. Unfortunately, the Fifers were 2-0 up and cruising at the break. Not only was there no party, at this rate the gap at the top was coming down to just three points with two games to go.

Junior Mendes had other ideas and put Saints in front early in the second half. Ayr equalised soon after but for the rest of the half the Buddies battered the Honest Men without finding a way through. News started to filter through that Caley Thistle had somehow equalised against Dunfermline. All that was needed was a goal...

In stoppage time, Saints had a free-kick that the Ayr goalie made a mess of. As he went to recover it, the ball - and the goalie's head - were booted. 99 times out of a hundred it would have been a free-kick but, for some reason, this was the one time the ref waved play on. The Ayr defence tried desperately to scramble it clear but it eventually went to a man in a red shirt at the edge of the box. After playing keepy uppie, with thousands of Saints fans screaming at him to shoot, he finally decided to do just that - and an exocet flew into the top corner. To quote Dougie Vipond on the end of season video: "Paul McKnight had done it again."

I'm fairly certain that's the most I've ever celebrated a Saints goal (terracing rather than seats helped). Me, my dad and brother ran about all over the place as fans flooded onto the pitch. Even now, I'm getting teary eyed just writing this. Play eventually resumed with a few thousand Buddies gleefully singing "Championees". Except we weren't. Because Caley Thistle hadn't equalised after all and had lost 2-1. The fact we were still going up as Falkirk had secured a top three place meaning no play-offs seemed irrelevant. Only St Mirren could make promotion feel like a disappointment.

The next week just dragged and dragged - but it passed in an instant compared to the first half of the final home game against Raith Rovers. In front of an expectant home crowd, Saints struggled (stop me if you've heard this one before) and needed Tommy Turner to hack one off the line to stop things getting even worse. A win would be enough but that seemed very unlikely likely after a nervy 45 minutes.

A repeat in the second half would mean we'd need to head to Inverness looking for a result. Clearly, Mark Yardley couldn't be arsed with that and crashed one in five minutes after the restart. Steven McGarry added a glorious header from Shuggy Murray's cross and Barry McLaughlin headed in the third before we'd even reached an hour. Party time in Paisley.

If the first half had dragged, the final half hour flew by as we got ready for the celebrations at full-time. More than a few tears were shed as a glorious season got the finale it deserved. Having seen so many teams celebrating trophy wins on TV over the years, it was incredible to finally experience my own team having achieved some success.

The Saints were back and the bubble hadn't burst – until a week later, when a makeshift team that was probably still drunk got tonked 5-0 at Inverness. No Buddie cared – all that mattered was the open top bus on a sunkissed Paisley the day after. Sadly, that was to be the last time the Millennium Champions played together, as, amongst other things, Junior Mendes headed to Dunfermline and Barry Lavety leaving due to injury.

The majority of the top flight season is best forgotten – and as that's not what this is about, that's what I'll do. Instead, as we mark 20 years to the day since the title was won against Raith Rovers, I'll think about that win over Dunfermline, destroying Morton at Cappielow, going crazy in my living room as we turned things round against Raith Rovers, those Paul McKnight goals and the party in Paisley.

Favourite season following St Mirren? Millennium Champions mate.