It's ten years since we became a fan-owned club, and here, we remember the events of a most astonishing day thanks to the "In the Dying Seconds" book.

Doug Embleton – “January 18th 2012 My Peugeot Day”

From The Independent, Thursday January 19th: “Only afterwards would the true drama of their journey become apparent. That they had been blasting Mott The Hoople from their iPod as destiny beckoned, that they had both looked at each other as they parked up and took a simultaneous deep breath-and then made a run for the doors to their club’s stadium in an attempt to save more than a century of history.

It made you feel good to be told their story. It made you believe in people, never mind football.”

It’s a strange experience to write about historical events when you were one of those at the epicentre. Unavoidably, it’s an autobiographical         description of a very personal experience. If, in so writing, I have omitted key events or key people, this is unintentional. It was far too busy a time to have kept a diary. A time when even sleep became a luxury.

The Blackwell Grange Hotel, where many of the events unfolded, had -even by January 18th - become the operations centre of the Rescue Group. This small band of Quakers’ diehards had been the brainchild of Mark Meynell and Steve Weeks when they approached me and Pete Ashmore immediately after the New Year’s Day match against Gateshead.

If there was to have been a motto for the group, mine would always have been thus: ‘Better to do something in a time of crisis than sit back and effectively do nothing.’

By January 18th it had already become a way of life and events were moving apace. But, time and events wait for no man. The inner core of the Group had been expanded and by then included Shaun Campbell, whom I had already got to know via The Arthur Wharton Foundation and the Save Feethams campaigns. During 2011 I had also introduced Shaun to Mark Meynell and Steve Weeks.

Quirks of fate are normally what precede and then ultimately define events. At least two quirks of fate preceded and then defined the events of January 18th.

Firstly, I had been asked if I would act as the Group’s ‘spokesperson/media representative’ in the formative days of the Group. I accepted. Apart from this presenting me with an opportunity to yet again help my beloved Darlo FC, it also tied in neatly with some of my lifelong professional experience of PR, the media and writing. By January 18^th I was already “twelve days in” in terms of fronting the issues to the media and to TV cameras.

Secondly, because I still carry out various part-time work activities which take me away from the town, on January 16th - but two days before the big events - I was due to be working away and “incommunicado” ( i.e. mobile phone switched off) and there was a need for a ‘deputy’ spokesperson given the immense fluidity of the situation. Shaun was the member of the Rescue Group who eventually, if somewhat reluctantly, accepted this role. Little did either of us know what lay in store, only two days later.

As the week went on, we had been told that there was a possibility of the club being effectively closed by noon on January 18th. By late morning, texts and tweets were beginning to confirm the worst.

It’s not the intention of this “Darlo Memory” either to dwell upon or to revisit in detail the politics, manoeuvring and intense flux of that day or of the days which preceded it. Nor is it the intention of this piece to underestimate or ignore the immense roles played by all of the Rescue Group members plus a supporting cast of, for example, Supporters’ Club, Supporters’ Direct and, via their good auspices, the Trust (at the very 11^th hour), our MP Jenny Chapman, The Northern Echo, Ian Peacock, Paul Bielby, the hotel and others. I am simply writing about my personal experiences of the day.

By the time, on January 18th, that the Grim Reaper news was breaking to those gathered around the table at the hotel, last ditch attempts were being made to raise the £50,000 which would be required to keep the club going to the end of January and to play two hopefully moneyspinning home games and, in the process, to quite literally ‘buy’ time for a longer term solution to be found. Somehow, calm heads prevailed and several combined routes to the golden target of £50,000 were found.

There being no time to lose, several members of the Group made a beeline for the Arena. No time to lose. And a deal still to be negotiated.

Shaun and I jumped into my Peugeot and hurtled around the A66 ring road. The iPod is usually connected in the car and our frantic drive was accompanied by an ideal “DriveTime” song : Mott The Hoople’s All The Way From Memphis which we have now retitled ‘All The Way From Blackwell’. As we approached the entrance gates of The Arena, the iPod flipped to Mott The Hoople’s All The Young Dudes. How prophetic. All those young players who had just been given their P45s.

On entering the Arena we could see the assembled media throng outside the main doors. Our decision was instant. We looked at one another and both said: “Let’s do it”. So, we drove the car up to the main doors, Shaun grabbed his black bag/ briefcase and we did, literally, run up to the doors and (euphemistically) ‘knock’ on them.

It was quickly agreed that Harvey Madden would join the Rescue Group for a meeting at the hotel. Yet more tension. Passion. But, again, calm heads prevailing. A deal was agreed.

So, back to The Arena and with an insistence to the assembled media that the Rescue Group, in this instance Steve Weeks, Shaun and I would firstly speak to Craig Liddle. Yet another very emotional moment in my memory bank. And the rest, so they say, is history.

For the next few weeks, Shaun and I found ourselves being the voluntary spokespeople to what became a bit of a media frenzy. And the one moment etched indelibly on my brain is when, after that long day of January 18th, we finally parked the Peugeot back at the Blackwell Grange Hotel with a view to getting our breath, a pint, something to eat, phoning our families.

I switched from iPod to car radio and to BBC Tees at about 6.50 pm whilst we had a quick ciggie. They played a ‘soundbite collage’ of the day’s events with a backdrop of Coldplay’s Fix You. I found that I had an absolutely enormous quantity of grit in my eyes. It had been ‘a mighty long way’ from Mott The Hoople to Coldplay.

Several frenetic weeks then ensued. We were bombarded by the media and took a view that it was best to keep DFC and its plight ‘out there’ in the national, indeed global media, and hence the public eye.

The two home games attracted fantastic crowds and I’m sure that, given the huge numbers of fans from other clubs who attended, the media exposure helped to keep DFC in the limelight.

Shaun and I travelled to Woking for the away game at Hayes and Yeading which came between the two home games. The Darlo away support was superb; even more so, the hospitality and empathy of the Hayes and Yeading people. After the match, and after we had two Darlo shirts signed by each team, Geoff Perryman of H and Y FC (brother of Spurs’ legend, Steve Perryman) presented us with a framed, signed photo of Geoff Hurst for our future fundraising.

And dear Ron and Kay, who voluntarily look after the pre- and post-match catering in the H and Y FC Boardroom and whose personality and warmth are the lifeblood of real football wished DFC well. We met them again in May 2013 at a charity game in London involving The Arthur Wharton Foundation. They immediately remembered and said, first of all; “How’s it going at Darlington, lads?”

At those two home games, having purchased our tickets in advance (even though I had a season ticket), we happily made ourselves available from 9am through to 6 pm (apart from watching the games, of course) to speak to representatives of the media who, to a man and woman, were so courteous and supportive. Sky Sports, Sky News, BBC, Tyne Tees, FiveLive and many other radio stations (TFM Radio had laid on free coffee to early arriving fans); newspaper reporters ranging from The (yes!) Hartlepool Mail to The Guardian. Even Norwegian TV.

In between those duties, we must have spoken to over a hundred fans from other clubs who had come along to show their support for DFC’s situation. Mansfield, (yes, again!) Hartlepool, Boro, Sunderland, Toon Army, Doncaster, Grimsby…the list was endless. But, for sure, it ratched up the attendance figures at those games.

Oh and dear old Barrow. We’d left the indoor politics and matchday hospitality to others and when our families arrived with supermarket ‘Meal Deal’ food, we grabbed a swift pint in The Corner Bar. And up pops a member of the Barrow Supporters’ Trust with various items which he had handmade (clocks; framed pictures) based upon our January 7th match at Barrow. All, again, for fundraising. Real football fans. Salt of the proverbial earth.

In the bar we also made ourselves known to Laura Drew and her hubby. One of the many tasks I’d fulfilled in those frantic weeks was, after Laura had made initial contact with me by text, to keep in touch with her and it was great to press the flesh and share a quick ciggie and pint. I made a promise to introduce her to the rest of the Group.

Was it worth it? Unconditionally, yes. It was the right thing to do at that particular and urgent moment in time. It was a spontaneous act born partly out of the post-match comments at the Barrow game. “We just can’t let this club die”. Well, at that moment in time, on January 18th, the club was technically dead. It was an ex-parrot. And we all know that resuscitation involves quite a lot of banging on the corpse’s chest. Or, in this case, on the corpse’s main doors. DFC going out with a whimper or “behind closed doors” was simply not an option. After all, the media and his dog were parked outside those very same doors. So, why hide DFC’s plight under a bushel? Shy bairns get nowt.

Regrets? Well, unlike Mr Sinatra I don’t have a few. Only one. A month later, in mid-February, we were told, out of the blue, that it had been decided that our voluntary services were no longer required with immediate effect and that the club would move forward with a media specialist and with a new ‘media strategy’. Indeed, there was no place for us ‘at the table’. Finito.

I think we took this well. After all, nobody wants to rock the boat as far as DFC is concerned. We sent a courteous good luck message to the Group; we sent a warm thank you message to the many media contacts we had made for all of their courtesy and…above all…support.

So, that one regret is that the voluntary job we’d done became an “unfinished symphony”. Any organisation would - indeed, should – ‘kill’ for the global media coverage and most importantly, media support which DFC’s issues had achieved. Many organisations pay a fortune for this level of coverage.

Anyway, the Peugeot is a tad older now. It still wends its way to Darlo games. The iPod still rocks. It has switched from Mott The Hoople to Maximo (Heritage) Park. In season 2013-14 I’ll enter my 60^th year of Darlo-watching. Quite a journey.

Andrew Thompson “Tommo” – “Please, please, lads, play”

I arrived at the ground for a meeting just before midday. The car park was full of cars from the media – TV, radio and newspapers – and curious supporters. I couldn’t get into reception because the door was locked and at that point a reporter from Sky Sports, Mark Dexter, shoved his microphone under my nose and asked me a question; “Is the club going to survive?” I replied; “Fingers crossed.”

The commercial manager, Jason Lees, opened the door for me and I went into the players’ lounge. After a few nervous minutes, Harvey entered the room and started reading a prepared statement that he was closing the club. His voice actually cracked and he broke down and cried!

I was in shock because of what he’d already said, that the club was closing. Harvey pulled himself together, finished his statement and asked if there were any questions. I asked him one, but he couldn’t answer it, so with my voice breaking, I retorted; “So what’s the point of asking for questions?” and walked out of the room.

The lads started taking pictures and framed shirts from the walls as mementoes. I’d had my fill of it all and I opened up the door of my kit room and invited them to help themselves. Chris Senior rang me to ask if it was true about the club closing and I broke down in tears.

Meanwhile, Harvey had left the players’ lounge and walked upstairs to the directors’ room. I don’t know exactly what happened next, but Lidds then started rounding everybody up for another meeting in the dressing room. It turned out that some members of the Rescue Group had arrived with £50,000 to keep the club going. Lidds pleaded with the players to stay and play against Fleetwood the following Saturday, but Aaron Brown said he couldn’t, because he had lost his cottage at the Croft Spa and his wife was heavily pregnant in the South West. I pleaded to the players; “Please, please, lads, play.”

Scott Thornberry – “I couldn’t see Harvey Madden changing his mind”

I was contacted by John Foster from BBC Tees the night before the deadline and he asked me whether I would be available for a chat around lunchtime the following day. I had been on John’s shows many times over the years, mainly due to the situations our club always got itself in. In fact I joked with John quite often when he rang that BBC Tees was like the Grim Reaper, you never hear from them until trouble arrives. I agreed though as I am always one to be wheeled out for a miserable quote or two.

On the Wednesday I tried to keep up with what was happening via Twitter and the Uncovered forum but there was no concrete news and I went on my lunch preferring not to know what happened, it was too nerve-racking.

My phone rang whilst I was in Sainsbury’s, (I’m posh like that), and sure enough it was BBC Tees. I was put on hold, ready to go on air and for those that haven't done this before you get to actually listen to the radio show on the phone – it’s called listening to cue. I was on hold for ages and all sorts of conversations were happening at the ground. It was hard to work out what was going on and I couldn't work out if we had gone under or not. Doug and Shaun had turned up but then Aaron Brown had come out of the ground and said that it was over, I then was put on air for my views. The club had folded as far as I was concerned, so I gave my view on what had happened and where do we go from there. Then the news came out that a meeting was to be held later day between the Rescue Group and Harvey Madden, the administrator.

Nothing was ever straightforward at Darlington and that day just typified our journey. I am not overstating things when I say you could make a good film out of our recent escapades.

I couldn't see Harvey Madden changing his mind and I was gutted that we had gone. I was never going to follow another team so I was done with football and to be honest from a personal point of view I felt strangely relieved. I couldn't carry on leading the life I had been and for over a decade I have been guilty of getting myself into situations I shouldn't have been. This would be the chance for me to focus on other things. That was how I was dealing with it anyway, looking at the positives in a very negative situation.

When I heard the club was saved I knew that it was only a reprieve but we still had a club, we somehow had come back from the dead, but we had a huge battle ahead if we were survive and if we were to survive we needed a radical change in our outlook as this should never happen again.