Thirty years ago Swindon Town enjoyed the greatest day in the club’s history, winning promotion to the Premier League.

Their 4-3 victory over Leicester City on May 31, 1993, at Wembley Stadium in the First Division play-off final, is still regarded as a genre masterpiece.

With 20 minutes remaining, the Robins led 3-0, with player-manager Glenn Hoddle scoring the opening goal. However, a flurry of goals in the final 12 minutes pulled the Foxes even.

However, with just six minutes remaining, Swindon was given a penalties, which Welsh defender Paul Bodin scored to give the Wiltshire team a thrilling win.

After just one poor season in the Premier League’s infancy, Swindon’s tenure in the top division was short-lived as they were immediately demoted back to the second division.

As BBC Radio Wiltshire found out, Swindon supporters still carry the memory of that bright day at Wembley even though they haven’t quite reached those same heights since.

I wanted to guarantee that my view was the greatest available. A few days prior to the game, I purchased these spectacles.

We had a 3-0 lead, and like everyone else, I felt, “We have to win this; we’re going to the Premier League.”

There was this guy beside me as Leicester leveled the scoring after two minutes. He was highly outspoken during the game, exclaiming, “We’ve blown it, we’ve blown it,” and was clearly upset.

With twenty minutes remaining, I just turned to face him and stated, “Leicester is tired.” It was a really hot day, and we looked optimistic once more as the score reached 3-3.

It goes without saying that we scored a few minutes before the finish, and when the final whistle blew, we were jumping up. I turned to face him, and he grabbed me and crushed me while telling me, “You were right.”

My only memory is saying, “my glasses,” sounding a little bit like Scooby Doo. He was shattering my brand-new, barely-opened glasses while I was attempting to rejoice.

Although it never occurred to me to maintain my car before traveling on the M4, it became evident as soon as we stopped at Junction 2. Steam emanated from the bonnet, leading me to believe that someone must be following me, poor boy.

After pulling into a small layby, we just stood there, watching everyone pass by, and asked ourselves, “What are we going to do?” The stadium wasn’t too far away, and we managed to wheel ourselves down to a garage where we threw some water, which quickly vanished with a hiss of steam.

I honestly can’t recall if we parked on the side of the road or in a public parking lot. We just walked from Wembley, which was a mile and a half away.

When the penalty was applied, it sounded like a beast growling. That, in my opinion, was just all of the pent-up anger, agony, and frustration following the equalizer combined into one.

This is most likely the best day in Swindon Town’s past.

This was one of the few times my dad, my son, and I went to watch Swindon Town together as a three generational group. My dad stopped going because he wasn’t well in his middle to later years, but he was the one who first brought me to STFC in 1968–1969, and we all went in 1993, so that was a truly unique moment.

My son started going during the season because we wanted to introduce him to football at a young age. We believed that the fact that he was at Wembley would be something he could later on disclose to his family.

Although he didn’t have the longest attention span, he was managing really well. After about forty minutes, Anthony stated, “Dad, I really need to go to the bathroom.” We moved swiftly because I knew there would be chaos among the men when the halftime whistle blew, even though the old Wembley was a famous venue with subpar facilities.

The moment we entered the men’s room, the inevitable occurred. A huge roar came from above. Who had scored was a mystery to us. We quickly made our way back to our seats and were both relieved and overjoyed that Swindon, thanks to their player-manager Glenn Hoddle, had scored the opening goal.

In any case, we would have welcomed a Swindon victory, but at half-time I said to myself, ‘I can’t tell people for the rest of my life that I genuinely saw the most crucial moment in Swindon’s history if this finishes 1-0 now.'”

I was around thirteen when I went there with my parents, brother, and sister. Fan of Swindon for life then. The noise at Wembley, the cheers, the manner we went and won it—it was all incredible.

Following the game, every bridge on the M4 had a banner with people waving scarves on it. As we passed, my father began honking his horn.

We were overjoyed with the events of the afternoon and the good feelings they evoked.

One of my favorite trips out of London was definitely the one I took to return home.

I was not supposed to attend the promotion play-off final, but my boyfriend of a few weeks prior happened to have an extra ticket. I had never before attended a football game.

The vivid colors and sounds of that warm, late spring day come to mind first: the red and white flags lining Wembley Way, the jubilant Swindon supporters celebrating their team’s 3-0 lead, and the quiet after Leicester tied the score at 3-3.

Paul Bodin’s game-winning penalty escaped my notice in real time. I buried my face in the shoulder of my partner. But as soon as the ball crossed the line, the Town supporters’ shout was audible.

Fans that traveled will never forget the ride home, which included automobiles hooting all around them, practically every bridge on the M4 wrapped in red and white flags, and an overall feeling of elation. The partner? He ended up becoming my spouse.