MCMXCIX. End of the world? Not on your nelly, unless you count the establishment of the Euro zone. In other world news this year, it kicked off in Kosovo, Jill Dando was gunned down on her doorstep, the Scottish Parliament opened, the world’s population reached the 6 billion mark (it had been 3.7 when I was born) and there was another infamous massacre in the US, this time at Columbine High School. The millennium bug failed to put in an appearance, despite the horrifying scare stories of planes falling out of the sky and people’s porn collections being wiped off hard disks all over the globe.

 The world of film offered a mixed bag, with Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace grossing stupid amounts of money before word got out that it was shite. The Sixth Sense, Toy Story 2 and The Matrix were also major blockbusters, and Sam Mendez’s seminal American Beauty showed the world what happens to middle-aged men trapped in suburban hell.

 In music, a young nymph called Britney exhorted the world to assault her just one more time, TLC sang about medical work-wear, Lou Bega went straight to Mambo No. 5 and Bloodhound Gang had a case of Bad Touch. In non-football sport, the Denver Broncos retained the Super Bowl, the first man on the moon won his first Tour de France, Mika Hakkinen won the F1 championship (again) and Australia took the egg-chasing World Cup. Oh, and in tennis Andre Agassi won the French and US opens.

 But who really cares about other sport? Well, it’s there for when there’s no football, I suppose. Boro were looking forward to another season in the top flight after coming in a very promising 9^th place last time round. A number major signings, in the form of Paul Ince, Christian Zeige and the return of Gary Pallister from Man Utd, increased the Teesside public’s anticipation. No, we will never learn.

 The season started at home to Bradford, on the ridiculously early date of 7^th August. Boro were obviously still on holiday and lost 1-0 to the Premiership new boys. The potentially pugilistic Wimbledon away were next up in the midweek game, but Boro managed a 3-2 win with Ham the man scoring twice and the new German full-back getting his first for the club.

 I remember the day after that match quite vividly. I had the day off to take my wife to South Tees Hospital for an operation in the morning and came home to wait for the call to pick her up. As I waited I witnessed the total solar eclipse from my back garden, looking up through a partly-cloudy sky to see the sun being slowly devoured by the shadow of the moon. The peculiar half-light that descended combined with an eerie quietness that had me wondering if Nostradamus was onto something when he wrote about the “Great King of Terror” coming from the sky. But of course, we’re all still here eleven years later, waiting for the next “end of the world” to come along, sometime in 2012.

The world kept on going, then, and Boro saw off Derby in their new Riverside-clone stadium. Ricard and Zeige once again scored, along with Brian Deane for a comfortable 3-1 victory. Was this a run being put together?

 It was Liverpool at home the following weekend, and big Brian scored the only goal for a 1-0 win. Oh no…hope was rising once more. Three wins on the bounce and we were right up there in the mix, even though it was really, really early days. Any Boro fan will tell you how good it feels to read the papers or Ceefax and see the name of Middlesbrough near the top of the PL table, even after only four games.

 We had the chance to go top of the league - if I remember correctly - by beating Leicester in the next midweek home game. We had beaten Liverpool, so surely Leicester would lie down and accept their fate.

 By this point in my Boro life I shouldn’t have been surprised or disappointed, but I still was. The Foxes ran rings around the red-shirted chickens that were on the pitch that night and beat us 3-0. I left the stadium feeling completely let down, surrounded by many who just shook their heads, already accustomed to the bitter taste of dashed hopes. How did this happen? How was the team so completely unable to rise to the occasion? I was starting to believe what a friend’s Boro-weary, cynical father had said to me just a few games into my Boro-supporting days: “Boro will always let you down.”

 A 1-0 loss at Villa followed before the visit of another side with thorn-in-the-side potential – Southampton. It proved to be a curious affair, with a long-range goal by Pallister, a Gazza penalty and a Brian Deane goal adding up to a 3-2 win.

 The early-season momentum seemed unwilling to reappear, however, and three league defeats followed to Leeds, Chelsea and Newcastle. An injection of impetus was badly needed, not to mention a good kick up the backside.

 It came in the form of the return of another old boy; one who still held a place in many Boro fans’ hearts. I’m talking of course about Juninho. He had left at the end of the crazy 1996/97season, leaving us with the memory of him sitting alone on the Elland Road turf. His spell at Atletico Madrid hadn’t gone well with a serious injury within his first few months. Now, in October 1999, he was returning to the Boro on loan. He obviously felt some kinship with the Boro, and there was no room for doubt about the reciprocation of these feelings when a huge crowd turned up for his appearance in the reserve team at the Riverside.

 His return sparked another short run of good form, with West Ham (featuring Mr. Unfulfilled Potential Alun Armstrong’s last goal for the club), Watford and Everton all beaten. Sunderland weren’t in the mood to allow this party to continue and salvaged a 1-1 draw on our turf. A shocking 5-1 mauling at the hands of Arsenal followed that, and then Wimbledon came up North with little intention of playing pretty football and went home with a 0-0 draw. Bradford away finished 1-1. Any idea of consistency either way was soon abandoned with a 2-1 home victory over Spurs followed by a 1-0 loss to Sheffield Wednesday at Hillsborough. Mid-table anonymity beckoned as the 1990s, the 20^th Century and the second millennium headed for the door, with their arms linked and singing maudlin songs, presumably.