Des Lynam ended the BBC’s coverage of that European Championship semi-final between England and Germany on Wednesday 26 June 1996 by telling viewers that they “better remember where you were watching this tonight because in 30 years’ time somebody will probably ask you”. So, 30 years on, the Guardian asked six writers if they indeed remember where, and how, they watched the game. Fair to say it was an emotional trip down memory lane …

‘I will never forget the trudge back to the tube’

I still have the match ticket and the pink underground ticket saying “Wembley Park”. We were on the side above the right corner at the end for Gazza’s miss in extra time and the penalties. I can still see and feel it all: the joy of Shearer’s goal and the (justified) fear it was too early; the equaliser; the agonising misses, including an often forgotten McManaman break; the German “golden goal” that was ruled out at the other end for a foul that perhaps only the referee could see; thinking even after Southgate’s miss that it wasn’t over. But I will never forget the moment right at the end of the near-silent trudge back to the tube when I finally decided to speak. Grasping for a positive, I said: “At least no one will assume we’re just going to win the World Cup now,” and an angry man nearby, of sadly stereotypical England fan-appearance, responded as if I had besmirched Princess Diana. PC

‘He probably wanted to avoid a teenage riot’

I was 16 and – whisper it – not that into football. Music had taken over my life … Parklife. But this was a game that simply had to be watched, and is perfect for one between England and Germany, I was in France. Our school took us on a camping holiday in Brittany at the conclusion of our GCSEs, turning a blind eye to any underage drinking which may or may not have occurred. The owner of the place in which we watched the match claimed the TV had broken during extra time; in reality, he probably wanted to avoid a teenage riot if England lost. It meant us following the conclusion via transistor radio back at the campsite, with a teacher translating the penalty shootout. I never did learn the French for “Southgate”. AB

‘He suggested attacking the embassy’

A large hotel bar in Booterstown, Dublin, where I was working for the summer before starting university. An English colleague drunkenly suggested attacking the German embassy after the penalty shootout. Worryingly, I think he was serious. Equally worryingly – at least, had he not been ignorant of the fact – the embassy was a stone’s throw away. England supporters and large amounts of alcohol is never an edifying combination. Naturally our Irish friends weren’t exactly unhappy to see England out but their wait for schadenfreude had lasted longer than usual. LM

‘What about Ince, Anderton or McManaman?’

I had just started in football journalism but was nowhere near getting a pass for Wembley. So instead I was at a flat in west London. There were 10 of us. Some of us had watched the Italia 90 semi-final together. So, shared experiences. Shared fears. Lots of chat throughout the game but a nervous, curious hush when Gareth walked up. Why him? What about Ince, Anderton or McManaman? Surely one of them should take it. The miss; the collective groan and disappointment. The long, sad walk home. Don’t worry – we’ll win the next shootout … won’t we? CL

‘I couldn’t watch the match with her’

My then girlfriend and now wife, Barbara, was (still is) German, so I obviously couldn’t watch the match with her. I left her at our student house – kept company by her future mother-in-law, who was up for my university graduation the next day – and walked up the long hill to the college bar to watch the grimly inevitable unfold. Shearer, Kuntz, Gazza, Gareth … there’s no point going through the details. It felt like an even longer walk home back down that hill to be met by the sympathetic embrace of my schadenfreude-supressing partner. But nine years later, 26 June took on a very different meaning in our household when our daughter was born. Today is her 21st. Happy birthday Isabel. EG

‘It was one of the best times of my life’

My story isn’t especially interesting – I was 15 and watched the game at home having spent the preceding couple of hours revising for my GCSE mocks. On a grander level, however, that night represented the end of one of the best times of my life. I grew up in Wembley and to be there in the summer of 1996 was to feel like you were in the centre of the football universe. I was also a big England fan, right before my relationship with the national team became complicated and difficult. I went to the Scotland game, wildly celebrated Gazza’s goal, and wanted us to win the tournament really badly. But we didn’t because of what happened on 26 June. That hurt but now there is only fondness for that night, that time. Don’t worry Des, I remember it well. SN