Book 20090222 Abridged 2

That Championship Season Following the drama of a League Two play-off final at Cardiff, Southend United were back in the third tier of English football. “Big deal” I hear you cry! But this really was a big deal. In previous years, we were not only fighting to preserve our League status, but also the very existence of the club. Thankfully, due to some sterling work from the board, management, and Shrimpers Trust the profile of the club had been raised – and we had a fairly useful team too! League One was seen as the Promised Land, big games against the likes of Nottingham Forest and of course the return of the Essex derby matches with Colchester. Whatever way you looked at it we were back, and I wanted to see it…all of it! I broached the subject with my wife Victoria. My plan, my dream of seeing every Southend first team game for the forthcoming season. Friendly matches, Cup matches, League matches, everything. She didn’t seem overly impressed but agreed, I’m sure she thought come the middle of the season a trip to the far North for a relegation battle would prove too much for me. However, before a ball had been kicked my dream had already hit a major hitch. Victoria’s cousin Mel was due to get married the same afternoon that Southend would play a pre-season friendly at nearby Grays Athletic. The run would be over before it had started. But mystical forces were at work. Perhaps Dad was looking down on me, maybe so I could tell you this story today. Whatever it was, one week before the wedding of the year, cousin Mel informed the man of her dreams that he was surplus to requirements! Of course I had to appear shocked, horrified, even concerned. But underneath I was so ecstatic I could have kissed her. GRAYS ATHLETIC HERE I COME! As the League season drew closer the Essex towns of Southend and Colchester were shocked to discover that the country’s footballing experts and most major bookies had us as the red hot favourites for the drop. Southend didn’t get off to the best of starts either. At half time in the opening League match the Blues trailed Port Vale 2-0 and had been totally outclassed. However a brave second half performance that included a spectacular goal from Wayne Gray suggested that despite defeat we had enough about us to stay up. A few days latter the Shrimpers gave us a taste of things to come. Valley Parade, Bradford hadn’t witnessed a Southend victory in all of our 99-year history, but an own goal from City captain David Wetherall plus a late thunderbolt from Luke Guttridge Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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gave the Blues an improbable 2-0 victory. Early season was proving difficult. First the wedding, and now a mixture of my birthday and our wedding anniversary. Romantically, we spent the afternoon at the Bescot Stadium, Walsall. A last minute goal from new signing and indeed football legend Shaun Goater salvaged a point against a Saddlers team who had been amongst the favourites to go up. Southend had started to play some excellent football and embarked on an eightmatch winning run. Colchester were beaten 3-1 by a Goater-inspired Shrimpers, and Nottingham Forest were sent packing thanks to a Freddy Eastwood goal ten minutes from time. Manager Steve Tilson had made a superstitious promise not to cut his hair until the run was over. Bogey team Doncaster Rovers ensured Tilly an unwanted visit to the barber’s! Just prior to Christmas Southend had started to wobble. Results had not gone well but the team were still in touch with the top of the League mainly due to the inconsistency of our promotion rivals. The Wednesday after Christmas the bad run ended in dramatic style away at Hartlepool United. Because of the snowy conditions that had battered the country, the match was in doubt. Only 115 of us made the 600-mile round trip armed with a list of alternative matches to watch if news reached us of a postponement at Victoria Park. Back in Southend my wife Victoria was sat in front of the Sports channels reporting to us by mobile phone on any games that had been hit by the weather. As call after call reached us it seemed as if the snow was following us up the country. Ten miles from Hartlepool Vicky informed us that Newcastle United’s Premiership fixture had been hit. If a ground with under soil heating had been called off what chance did we stand a few miles down the road at Hartlepool? But to everyone’s amazement the game did go ahead. Hartlepool took an early lead and indeed totally dominated throughout the match, but goals from Eastwood and Gray along with a world class display from goalie Daryl Flahavan including a last-minute penalty save ensured all three points and a happy but hazardous journey home. New Year was special – it was our son Alfie’s first birthday and where better to celebrate it than Bloomfield Road, Blackpool? Eastwood’s last minute strike ensured a Southend victory, what better birthday present could a boy ask for? The team continued to push hard for the top of the League, but there were still some tricky hurdles to overcome. No, not for the team, for me. Valentine’s night and Victoria settled down with a bottle of wine and a movie. I, however, was at a cold Griffin Park

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watching Southend lose 2-0 to promotion rivals Brentford! As the season drew to its conclusion it seemed as if Southend would run away with the League. A 3-0 win at Layer Road against not only local but now Championship rivals Colchester United had the Shrimpers fans believing that the title was in sight; but in typical Southend style the jitters set in. Defeat at relegation-haunted MK Dons, as well as home losses to Gillingham and Doncaster, left the Blues three point short of promotion with three tricky matches remaining. The supporters were anxious. Surely Southend wouldn’t blow it now? At half time on Easter bank holiday things looked bleak. Southend trailed 2-0 at Oakwell against promotion rivals Barnsley. Two own goals and some terrible refereeing had left the 2500 or so travelling Shrimpers pulling their hair out. But at that point things once again changed. Maybe the old man had a word with someone in higher places, perhaps as if to say you’ve all suffered enough. Southend stormed back to level the score at 2-2 and Barnsley had a seemingly perfect goal disallowed. Karma? The following week the permutations were simple. Win, and we would be up. Hosts Swansea City also needed a victory in order to reach the play-offs. A crowd of almost 20,000 including some 2,000 from Southend witnessed a game that would have put the Premiership to shame. Two goals from Freddy Eastwood gave Southend a second 2-2 draw in a week leaving a single point needed for a second successive promotion. However, once again the gods smiled on us. 200 miles away in London, Brentford were keeping up the pressure on both Southend and Colchester by leading relegated Hartlepool 1-0. As the match moved into injury time Hartlepool defender Michael Nelson sent a shot into the roof of the Bees’ net, and back in South Wales the visiting support celebrated the goal like one of their own. We were up! The Swansea supporters were both sporting and respectful, applauding the team and the Southend fans who were by now dancing ecstatically up in the stands. This wasn’t to be the end of the good news. As our little group congratulated each other I thought the time was right to announce some news of my own: Victoria was expecting our second child! Not even Roy of the Rovers could top that! As we travelled home our coach broke down at the motorway services in Swindon. To be honest I couldn’t care less, I would have gladly walked home for the day I’d just experienced! The week leading up to our final home match of the season was one of the most relaxed of my life. Baby on the way, Southend promoted, it doesn’t get much better than that. But come Saturday morning the nerves and anxiety were back, I wanted the Championship. Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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The last time Southend had won the League was way back in 1980/81 season. Dad and I saw every home game as the Fourth Division championship was clinched. Today in form Bristol City were our visitors. All Blues had to do was equal or better Colchester’s result at Yeovil Town and the trophy was ours. In truth Southend did not play well – whether it was nerves or just the sheer exhaustion of the season, Bristol City looked the more likely to win. With five minutes remaining and the teams locked at 0-0 I witnessed one of the most emotional moments in my thirty-odd years of watching Southend United. Football legend Shaun Goater was substituted in what was his final Football League appearance. Fans from Southend, Bristol and even a pocket of Manchester City fans who had made a special pilgrimage, gave ‘the Goat’ a fantastic send off. He left the Roots Hall pitch in floods of tears. Almost immediately Goater’s replacement Wayne Gray scored with his first touch of the game and, as it turned out, his last kick of the ball in a Southend shirt. The Shrimpers were the Champions. The celebrations that followed have rarely been seen at Roots Hall before, and with the club due to move into a brand new stadium in the near future may never be seen again! The players and supporters were on cloud nine. It had been a brilliant season and I’d witnessed every minute of it!

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It was another one of those Southend United moments that left us long-standing supporters pinching ourselves. Whether or not Dad was looking down on us, who knows? But on that final day of the 2005/06 season both Southend and Colchester, pre-season favourites for the drop, won promotion, and elsewhere in League Two a late goal at Oxford United had meant Leyton Orient were going up to League One. The hugely unsuccessful teams I had spent so much of my footballing childhood watching with my dad had defied the odds and gone up! Back at Roots Hall the fans had made the Bristol City match ‘Bermuda day’ to celebrate the career of Shaun Goater. Fans wore loud shirts and a garland of flowers in the great man’s honour.

Mark Gower and Jamal Campbell-Ryce with the trophy

As the crowd dispersed to the various watering holes around the town, I made my way across the pitch with my son Alfie towards the South Stand, placing my flowers on the perimeter wall just to the left of the goal, my eyes fighting back a tear or two. It had been the place I had watched my first Southend United match with Dad all those years ago.

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Alfie enjoys a kick-about with Wayne Gray

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Saddle Sore On 11th February 1984, probably the most dramatic and traumatic football match never reported took place at Pleck Park in Walsall. The match was never advertised by the nation’s press and was attended by, well, nobody. So how do I know it happened? Simple; because I played in it! Several Southend supporting companions and I had founded our own team, Blues FC. Now I’ve played in some bad football teams. Sides that have lost every single match in a season. I’ve even lost a junior game 31-0! But Blues FC were something else. Blues FC were a six-a-side team. They had already played and indeed been thrashed spectacularly by supporters teams from Chelmsford City, Orient and Brentford. But we were confident of breaking our duck in the West Midlands. Everything was stacked in our favour. Walsall Supporters were playing their first, and as it turned out, only ever match. The Blues were to include two new signings, both considerably better footballers than any of us. Besides which we had clearly turned the corner in the Brentford game, it was the first time we hadn’t conceded double figures! However, nothing is certain in football. Almost twenty-five years on, the shockwave of what happened on that fateful day in the Black Country still leaves me a bitter and twisted man. It was to be the day of reckoning, a day when our team of collective limited abilities would finally taste victory. We wanted to win the Walsall match so badly that we took the liberty of fixing up a match the night before against the supporters of Grays Athletic. Not only would this fixture give the new players a chance to bed in, it would give us the extra match practice before the trip to the Black Country. It was a plan that was to backfire spectacularly in a number of ways. First, Grays took the match far too seriously. Instead of fielding supporters they sent out players from their Isthmian league squad. Our lack of ability proved to be no match for our semi-professional ranked opponents as they rattled in goal after goal. The match ended in what could have been and probably was a world record ridiculous score: Grays 37 Blues FC 8! On top of this we still had an early start the following morning for Walsall – we would be finishing one game and starting the next within twelve hours of each other, and this included a 175-mile trip to boot! Despite the big defeat we travelled to the Black Country in high spirits. This was to be our day, none of the Walsall lads played regular football, let alone together. Most of the team made their way to the Midlands by car, the two new players were travelling by Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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train and would be meeting us at the ground. One of our number, ‘Max’, had planned everything with military precision. As we raced up the M6 a motorway sign stated ‘Walsall 22’. Although confidence was high, I’d bet every one of our players had the same thought ‘…Blues FC 0!’ The drama started to unfold as we arrived at Pleck Park. Our two new signings had not shown, leaving us with one emergency substitute who happened to be our goalkeeper’s girlfriend. One or two players questioned whether a woman should be allowed into the squad, but with two players absent without leave we were desperate, besides which, the truth was she was better than they were! Still it mattered not, as the match got underway it became clear the Walsall lads were no match for us. In fact they were much worse than us; after taking an early lead we pulled away from our hosts and by half time, Blues led by six goals to one. Now you’ve all heard the story about the tortoise and the hare. Well, this was to be a classic example of the fable in action. Miles in front, we took the liberty of fielding our substitute for the second half. Not content with stuffing our hosts out of sight we were now rubbing their noses in it by playing a woman against them. The Walsall lads were clearly upset with our overconfident gesture. They started to mount wave after wave of attack. Before long they had pulled back a couple of goals. Still at 6-3 the match was ours – just weather the storm then hit them with a sucker punch, perfect! But things were far from perfect. We had lost our way big time, the Blues players had started to bicker with each other and Walsall by now pulled the score back to 6-5. There were only a couple of minutes remaining, all we had to do was keep the ball and victory was ours. The ball was passed back to our goalkeeper to kill a few vital seconds. Sadly, horribly and quite painfully he completely missed it. 6-6! We were still in a state of shock when straight from the kick-off the Walsall lads raced up the field and almost in slow motion produced the unthinkable, a winning goal! The referee’s whistle sounded almost immediately, The Blues players sank to the floor like a team who had just lost a World Cup final, although in many ways this was much, much worse! When we returned to the changing room there was silence. No inquest, no slagging,

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just silence. Nobody dared look at each other. In some sort of deprived way what we had achieved had been quite spectacular. We’d managed to lose a match after holding the biggest lead in football history! We truly were the most awful team on earth. To make matters worse the real Walsall and Southend were to meet at Fellows Park in a Third Division match that afternoon. Walsall were quite a useful side whereas Southend were not so much sliding as hurtling towards relegation. The game went to form with Walsall winning 4-0. News also filtered through about our missing new recruits. Their train journey had been interrupted at Coventry by members of the West Midlands constabulary who had taken exception to them travelling without rail tickets! We returned home somewhat mentally scared by our own awfulness. ‘Max’ bravely brought up the subject of a return fixture but his Dunkirk spirit fell on deaf ears. Perhaps shamed by our collective rubbishness the players of Blues FC went their own separate ways. The fledgling club never played another match. Fortunately for us the match was never recorded by anyone in Southend, only a few lines in the Walsall programme dated 21st February 1984 gave any lasting testament that the epic match was ever played.

25 years on - the author with Don, Roy and Michael of the Walsall Supporters Team Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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To this day, whenever I drive up the M6 through Walsall I glance across towards Pleck Park. The place still makes me shudder! But when the country’s football scribes write their collective journals about famous games, not one of them will pen their thoughts about the agonies and ecstasy of that day at Pleck Park. I’ll tell you what, let’s keep it our little secret…

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The Great Escape It was late 1988 and my relationship with, well for legal reasons let’s call her ‘C’, was not going well. Petty arguments were run of the mill, usually because she believed I thought more of football than I did of her. Did I? Well yes, just a bit! As the winter drew in I informed her of yet another football trip, this time to Scotland. I stood back and waited for the inevitable double-barrelled blast. The silence was deafening, but then she came out with the line any man in my position dreaded, “OK, I’ll come too, lets make a holiday of it.” I was totally unprepared for her double bluff of an answer – she wanted in and she wanted to organise and I couldn’t do anything about it. A few days later she told me that she’d booked our apartment for the week, surely a romantic hotel in the Highlands next to a picturesque golf course! Well, not quite. Our five-star accommodation for the week was to be Wonderwest World in Ayr. It was like a run down version of Maplins, the spoof holiday camp used in the 80s TV comedy Hi de Hi. The exception being it was well into the winter and we were just about the only people staying there. Now I’ve nothing against Ayr or the townsfolk but I certainly didn’t want to stay in a freezing holiday camp with nothing to do. We hadn’t left Essex and already the trip was a disaster. Only football could save me! Day 1- AYR UNITED The day of reckoning came and we set off by overnight train for Scotland arriving early on Monday morning. On arrival at the camp nothing was open and the room was damp. C was planning a night in. I needed an escape. What was to follow was a soccer version of the Great Escape. My Tom, Dick and Harry escape tunnels to football were dug and she didn’t suspect a thing! My Monday night salvation came from the back pages of the local newspaper that was sitting waiting for us in our room. Today’s fixtures, Reserve League West, AYR UNITED Reserves v STIRLING ALBION Reserves, bingo! But how was I going to coax her from just about the most unromantic night in, to Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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a freezing, empty Scottish football ground for a reserves match? Well in fairness Somerset Park had to be considerably warmer than this room! My plan was in place and was executed to perfection. I talked her into a trip to town, albeit close to the stadium, but how would I get her through the turnstiles? As kick-off time drew near I pointed out to C that the floodlights at Ayr United were on, perhaps they’d have a nice clubhouse inside the ground and maybe we should pop along and find out. Obviously pleased that she’d already managed to plan my week, C agreed. Some 90 cold minutes later Ayr United Reserves had won 1-0, and I’d got my football fix, it had all been too easy. Day 2 KILMARNOCK Tuesday had been another cold dreary day, until I picked up a copy of the Daily Record. I cheekily checked today’s football fixtures and there it was, Reserve League West, KILMARNOCK Reserves v AIRDRIE Reserves. Surely I couldn’t work the same trick twice? “How do you fancy a taxi ride to Kilmarnock?” I asked. “It’s a very historic place with a few nice pubs” I added. C agreed, totally unaware that our historical field trip was going to lead her to Rugby Park. Then the same routine, floodlights, clubhouse etc…we were in. Killie 0 Airdrie 3. I sensed she was slightly unhappy with the groundhog day turn of events, but with a trip to Celtic Park planned for Wednesday I was comfortable in the knowledge I would only have to spend Thursday evening in our squalid accommodation before we returned home. Day 3 GLASGOW With Celtic v Honved (Hungary) starting in the evening I agreed to a day of shopping around the City, the least I could do. After all, three matches in three days was beyond my wildest dreams! I told C that there was a nice park in Glasgow, and suggested perhaps we could take it in as part of the day. She agreed – little did she realise I meant Cathkin Park, the former home of the legendary Third Lanark Football Club! Cathkin and shopping later it was off to Celtic Park. The Hoops won 4-0 against their Hungarian opponents but the highlight of the night was the appearance of Scottish

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legend Alan Rough of ‘Ally’s Army’ fame between the posts for Celtic. DAY 4 STRANRAER (YES, STRANRAER!) Back in the Sixties, Third Lanark had a player by the name of Ally McLeod. Now our Ally was a Thirds Legend but was destined for much bigger things. In 1978 he took the Scottish national team to the World Cup finals in Argentina. Super Ally boldly told the good people of Scotland that he and the boys would bring the Cup back home for them. Perhaps it was under the knowledge that Ally’s mother used to stand on the Cathkin Park terraces and would use her handbag to batter any bystander brave enough to criticise her lad, but in the biggest show of blind faith in football history, all of Scotland believed him. After reading the Daily Record on Thursday morning I could see it was going to take a whopper of Ally McLeod proportions to get C along to today’s fixture. Reserve League West, STRANRAER Reserves v CELTIC Reserves. First of all I had to get us to Stranraer, a good couple of hours from Ayr by train. I suggested a day out in Larne, Northern Ireland – this would mean travelling to Stranraer for a ferry. Unbeknown to C I was already aware that no ferries were crossing due to rough seas, but hey, what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her! On arrival at Ayr railway station I noticed some graffiti on a wall “GLASGOW RANGERS HATED BUT RATED”. I cursed to myself, I could have visited Ibrox yesterday if I’d thought about it! We arrived at Stranraer mid afternoon; the train stops right at the ferry port so it wasn’t long before C realised her day in Larne wasn’t going to happen. I suggested a pub would ease her disappointment and a few drinks later I thought the time was right to exercise my cunning plan. I suggested a stroll, which strangely led us up to Stair Park, home of Stranraer Football Club. Outside the small ground a man was putting up a poster, STRANRAER v CELTIC 730pm Kick-Off. By now C had sussed the plan. “No, no way!” she said. The plan seemed to be dead in the water, but then a stroke of genius, a small white lie, and the kind of lie of which Super Ally would have been proud. C had a soft spot for pin-up footballers, one of which was former Celtic and Arsenal superstar Charlie Nicholas. She knew ‘Champaign Charlie’ was still a legendary figure Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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North of the Border, but what about his younger ‘look-a-like’ brother? As we walked away from the ground I hit her with the killer line, “Shame we can’t see the game, Charlie Nicholas’ brother plays for Celtic Reserves…” Her eyes lit up. “Really?” she asked. “Yes, looks a bit like Charlie too,” I added innocently. Victory was mine, she agreed to come along to the game; but the truth of the matter was I didn’t know if Charlie even has a brother and to this day I still don’t! We made our way back to Stair Park. The elderly man operating the turnstiles asked us where we were from and seemed suitably impressed that we had travelled from the other end of Britain for a reserve team fixture, so impressed in fact that he invited us to watch the match from the directors’ area, and invited us in at half-time for tea and biscuits! A big crowd (for Stranraer) had turned up in the hope of seeing some of Scotland’s future stars. As it turned out they were treated to a classic. At the end of ninety minutes the Celtic youngsters emerged winners by five goals to four. Everyone seemed pleased with the evening’s entertainment, particularly us as we were invited back into the boardroom for drinks. One of the Stranraer directors took the time out to talk to us and presented me with a history book of the club. He turned to C and asked, “Why did you come along to this match my dear?” You could have heard a pin drop after she answered, “I was watching Charlie Nicholas’ brother!” At this point C realised she’d been hoodwinked. The journey back to Ayr and indeed to England was a silent one and not long after we went our separate ways. It’s been some twenty years since the infamous Scottish adventure. I’m pleased to report that lessons have been learned. Today I’m happily married to Victoria and our holiday time is very precious to us. It’s a time for relaxing, recharging the batteries and generally spending time together as a family. Therefore trips to Carlisle v Southend, Worcester City v Southport and Penryn Athletic v St Austell are purely circumstantial evidence!

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What a Wasted Journey My good friend Matt Hudson is the hard working media manager at Colchester United Football Club. Wherever the U’s are playing and whatever they are up to, Matt will be there doing his bit to keep the good people of Colchester right up to date with the club’s goings on. During October 2008, Matt had ‘one of those nights’ – the kind every football supporter dreads. No, not a heavy defeat, not even a comical refereeing display robbing his team of much needed points. Matt experienced the much-loathed wasted journey. Having travelled to Sixfields Stadium, Northampton, Matt was all set to cover the Cobblers’ home match against his beloved U’s. But as kick-off approached and the weather became colder, a heavy snow fall put pay to the match, leaving him and several hundred Colchester supporters with a fruitless trip home. But our Matt is made of sterner stuff. Needing his football fix, he quickly scanned the evening’s fixture list, which pointed him in the direction of Luton Town who had a home game with AFC Bournemouth. A mad dash to Kenilworth Road followed, and our man made it just in the nick of time. He pays the turnstile operator and takes his seat. Eight minutes into the match, the referee calls an early halt to proceedings due to the snowy conditions. No goals, not much of a game and a wallet that is now a few quid lighter. Matt’s night of frustration is complete! I for one can’t help but feel sympathetic. In 1985 I caught the ‘stupid o’clock’ train to Darlington for their Fourth Division clash with Southend United. There were no mobile phones in those days. Once you were on your way it was all in the hands of the football gods. The only way you knew about a call off was when you arrived. And so it proved. Six hours later my arrival at Feethams was greeted with the dreaded news: Match Off – Frozen Pitch. As in Matt’s case, ‘the dash’ ensued. I arrived at Roker Park, Sunderland, only minutes before the First Division match with Liverpool kicked off. Forty-five minutes later with the game scoreless, the teams left the field not to return. Referees verdict: ‘Too icy’. Other frustrating and fruitless trips have included a coach from Southend to Grimsby, only to be denied a game due to a thick fog descending shortly before kick-off. In fairness to Grimsby Town, manager at the time Alan Buckley (of Walsall fame) invited the travelling Southend fans into the social club, feeding and watering us before sending us on our way back to Essex. I’ve travelled from Southend to both Rotherham and Nottingham only to be notified Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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on arrival that the weather had claimed my day’s football. We were also early home from an Essex Senior Cup match at Dagenham when the referee failed to turn up! Without question, having waited all week for football, a last minute postponement is the best way to rub a football supporter up the wrong way; but it doesn’t always have to be a call-off that messes your day up. Of course there is the missed goal. I’ve experienced it on a number of occasions over the years. A delayed train from Birmingham New Street to Walsall saw me miss the opening few minutes of a Third Division match with Bury at Fellows Park. On arrival Tina and friends gleefully told me that the Saddlers were already a goal to the good. Ok, so I missed the opener, but the day was salvaged by four more goals as Walsall won 3-2. What about the day when that one magic moment is lost forever? Some time around the mid 80s I found myself at Villa Park for a First Division match between Aston Villa and Leicester City. The game had offered very little in the way of entertainment. In fact not to put too fine a point on it, the match was bloody awful. As the second half dragged its weary way from one bad passage of play to another I took what turned out to be the fatal decision to get a pie. The minute I’m down the Holte End steps and out of sight, up goes a roar from the half-asleep masses above. Villa have produced the only notable moment in a hugely forgettable afternoon and I was stuffing my face! My footballing sidekick Mark Edwards took his wife Hayley to a match at Portsmouth. His good lady wife was sent on an important mission to the tea-bar and on her return, complete with tea and Mars bars, Hayley discovered she had missed four goals! Even my wife Victoria has suffered from ‘missed goal syndrome’. While staying in the Midlands we took a trip across to Kidderminster for the Harriers Conference match with Canvey Island. After the match Vicky was staying overnight with the family while I was travelling back that night with the Canvey supporters coach in order to take in the Essex v Australia Cricket match at Chelmsford the following day. As the match came to its penultimate minutes, Vicky decided to get a head start and miss the traffic that would soon be leaving the stadium. With the game drifting towards a drab 1-1 draw, some of the home supporters followed her lead and started to exit. I don’t need to tell you, the minute they were out of the ground the teams went into overdrive. Three goals in three minutes gave Harriers a victory by the odd goal in five! The spectre of the early departure also struck on one of my trips to Scotland, thankfully not to me. It was the first game of the season north of the border. I had been watching a match at Heart of

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Midlothian’s Tynecastle Stadium. After the game I rushed back to Edinburgh Waverly station to catch the last train back to London. I found myself sat beside a couple of ground hoppers who had just taken in the Meadowbank Thistle v Hamilton Academicals match. Like me, the two chaps had raced away to get the last train. Their game had been goalless and one explained that the chances of a goal were about as likely as finding Lord Lucan riding Shergar in the Partick Thistle trophy cabinet! On our arrival back at Kings Cross we stopped for a cuppa and a quick check of the evening’s football paper. Two faces dropped as the pair discovered that Meadowbank had scored twice in injury time! London to Edinburgh and back is a long way to go only to miss a game’s better moment – but spare a thought for our family friend Graham, who along with his family came to visit us in January 2008. They arrived in a freezing cold England following a 24-hour flight covering some 16,000 miles from Sydney, Australia. Graham had requested that he would like to see a big football match here in England. The very day our traveller arrived in Blighty, we had arranged to take him to the FA Cup replay between Reading and Tottenham Hotspur. The match was perfect. The teams had met twice in the previous weeks, Spurs winning a ten-goal thriller 6-4 in the Premiership then sharing four goals with the Royals thus setting up the Cup replay. With various football pundits raving about the teams’ meeting yet again, we were happy in the knowledge that our guest would be treated to a goalfest and would go home to Australia with tales of how beautiful the game is in Mother England. However, we should all know by now that football has a habit of kicking you where it hurts when you least expect it. One and a half hours before the kick-off, with Reading’s Madejski stadium in sight (literally), we became embedded in the M4 motorway’s notorious gridlocked traffic. Surely, though, with time on our side we would still be in the Stadium in time for a beer and a pie followed by the predicted goal avalanche? Sadly, not only did we miss our pre-match beer, but also the kick-off, and as the painfully slow ticket office staff searched for our pre-ordered tickets a big cheer from inside confirmed that we had also missed Tottenham scoring the opening goal. Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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The rest of the match turned out to be rubbish. No further goals followed. An already jetlagged Graham spent the remaining 75 minutes (It seemed like hours) almost asleep. What an enduring image of our national game to take back to Australia. Welcome to football in our world!

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Selkirk’s Big Day STIRLING ALBION 20 SELKIRK 0 Not too many eyebrows were raised when on Saturday 8th December 1984 Selkirk AFC travelled to Stirling Albion in the opening round of the Scottish Cup. The non-league minnows had little to boast about in the way of success and had in fact dropped out of the East of Scotland League and had effectively folded at the time. In order to stay in the Scottish Cup, and to ensure future participation, the club fielded the players from Borders Amateur club Selkirk Victoria under their name. Despite the lack of success in 1966 they did have the honour of playing the French World Cup team in a warm up fixture before the finals that were to be held across the border that summer in England. The French players were playing for places in their opening fixture against Mexico and duly ran in eleven goals against the gallant Scottish Junior side. In return, Selkirk somewhat embarrassed their more illustrious opponents by scoring two of their own! But this was for real, the Scottish Cup is steeped with history and Selkirk wanted to be a part of it. As it turned out they helped write one of the biggest stories in Scottish Cup football this century. Selkirk had already made history simply by reaching the first round of the competition, thus becoming the only Border Amateur team to participate in the ‘proper’ stage of the competition. The Stirling Albion match programme of that fateful day reported, ‘For Selkirk F.C. today is their Cup Final’ As the match progressed it became alarmingly apparent that Selkirk were no match for their Second Division opponents – goals came thick and fast. Stirling striker Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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David Thompson helped himself to seven goals as Albion recorded the biggest margin of victory in a British senior (League or Cup) match this century, 20-0! After the match the nation’s media interviewed a somewhat shell-shocked Selkirk goalkeeper, Richard Taylor. Despite the defeat Taylor allegedly insisted, “I was only at fault for about seven of the goals.” With Scottish custodians already somewhat under siege, particularly in England, Taylor’s comments were seized upon with the famous joke, “I asked a man from Selkirk for the time – ‘20-past-Taylor’ he replied!”

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“They Think Its All Over” To many British people the Germans have accumulated some ‘baggage’ in the history department over the years. No, not that kind of history – I mean knocking England out in two major semi-finals on penalties plus that 1970 match in Mexico. They’ll also argue with every honest Englishman that ‘the goal’ by Geoff Hurst in 1966 never crossed the line, when of course it is perfectly clear to us all that it did! But ever since my first visit to Germany back in 1982 I have been fascinated by the place. I was with my junior team, and we stayed in the City of Dusseldorf. We had matches at a couple of local non-league venues, Dusseldorf Sporting Club 99 and S V Benrath. It was my first experience of playing in what were almost proper football grounds. Twenty-seven years on and umpteen visits later, Germany, the people and some of their teams have given me some fantastic moments as a football follower. During the summer of 2000 I took a trip to Munich for the Bayern Munich Centenary tournament. The hosts welcomed Real Madrid, Galatasaray and from England Manchester United to share in the celebrations. On arrival in Munich I loaded my luggage into a taxi and showed the driver the address of my hotel. As I got into the car the cabbie looked back at me and shook his head almost in disappointment. He then proceeded to drive some 50 yards up the road and pointed to a big building in front of us. It was my hotel! The tournament was played over two days at the old Olympic Stadium. The ground was built for the 1972 Olympic games. As well as holding some treasured sporting memories it is also close to the horrific scenes of terrorism that took the lives of 11 Israeli athletes. Bayern shared the ground with city rivals 1860 Munich. 1860 are very much seen as the team of the people, whereas it is argued that Bayern command most of their support from outside Munich. Wherever they came from, over the weekend more than 80,000 people attended the tournament, which is hardly surprising considering a ticket for both days was cheaper than watching a single match in the bottom division in England! Despite my love of lower league football, it was good to see such stars as Khan, Beckham, Roberto Carlos and Hagi in action. For the record Bayern Munich won the Centenary Cup beating Manchester United 3-1 much to the delight of their fans. In the beautiful mountain village of Faid live Bernd Pauly and Herbert Schoos. The pair are the best of friends, and indeed I’m proud to say are great companions of mine too, but on a football day that all goes out the window. You see Bernd supports 1 FC Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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Koln and Herbert follows their deadly rivals Borussia Monchengladbach. In German football terms the two clubs have seen better days, they have bags of history and in the case of Borussia a fair few European adventures. Nowadays the clubs yo-yo between Germany’s top two divisions, testing the patience and will of their fans.

Whenever I visit, Bernd and Herbert bombard me with reasons why I should choose their particular favourite over the other, but in order to save a friendship (as well as a spineless case of sitting on the fence) I follow the fortunes of both clubs. Back in 2003 Herbert invited me to watch Borussia Monchengladbach in a Bundesliga match with Hansa Rostock at their old Bokelberg ground. The night before the match we had been invited to a party at the Gasthaus Fritzen by Bernd’s daughters Kathy and Jane. ‘Bar Fritzen’ is without question my favourite pub in the world. I always get a warm welcome and indeed any pub that offers me self-service is all right in my book. Needless to say the party was somewhat messy, and the early morning departure to

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reach Monchengladbach by rail became a little daunting. After an uneasy few hours’ sleep, Herbert and I made our way through some of Germany’s finest scenery and biggest cities. However, with my head still pounding from the previous night’s festivities, I was hardly in the mood to play ‘globe trekker’ As the train pushed on across Germany our compartment became more populated with football supporters. Some were travelling to the Monchengladbach match and we were also joined by a large contingent of FC Schalke 04 fans on their way to the home match with Bayern Munich. I noticed that I was getting a few strange looks. Perhaps due to the fact I could barely lift my head off the table. Then one of the Schalke supporters plucked up the courage to talk. He along with his friends wanted to know what football shirt I was wearing. “Southend United,” I explained. I then had to give a detailed account of who they were, what division they were in, and why I was in Germany in the first place… Rather than ridicule me about my love of an English lower league club, the Schalke fans positively celebrated it! More beers were ordered, which although a great gesture, were not well received by my pounding head. We reached Monchengladbach and took a walk to the Stadium. The Bokelberg was what you would call ‘Old School’: three big uncovered terraces and a seated stand. The place was clearly very special to the Borussia supporters, and despite their lowly league position and the less than attractive opponents, the ground was full. Herbert suggested that I should get my picture taken with the Borussia mascot, a man dressed as a horse and known to the fans as ‘Junter’. As I stood beside what amounted to a pantomime horse he asked me to hold out my football scarf for the photo. “What is this team?” he asked in broken English. I showed him the scarf. “Ah, Southend United, I am this team for Championship Manager on Xbox,” he said. It was possibly the most surreal moment in all my years of watching football. Here I am with a bad hangover in the middle of Germany, stood next to a pretend horse that spoke two languages telling me he was the virtual manager of the English Fourth Division football team I supported Celebrating with Herbert Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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on a computer game! As it turned out, watching Borussia turned out to be as frustrating yet enjoyable as watching Southend, Colchester, Walsall or Orient. They took the lead, missed a penalty and conceded a soft equaliser! The crowd’s frustrations could be felt as far away as Shoeburyness, Essex, where Ed was receiving my text updates. After the game we returned to the Gasthaus Fritzen for more beers. My head had barely recovered but my German football initiation was complete and as a reward Herbert and Bernd invited me back a couple of months later for the big derby match between Koln and Borussia.

Junter

Following another night of celebrating just about anything, I had another match to attend. This time the venue was FC Faid’s Sportplatz for a match with neighbouring village team S V Bushel 1927 c V. A crowd of around 250 gathered in the cold conditions to witness the rival villages’ big match. The FC Faid ground is quite unusual. Because the village is situated up in the mountains they can be susceptible to the harsh German winter. For this reason the club play on a red ash pitch. The abrasive surface can leave players with some nasty cuts and grazes, but most fixtures survive. The rain drains straight through it and the snow can simply be swept away. The ground may well lack anything in the way of stands or terracing and indeed little in the way of shelter apart from the surrounding trees. But it does boast an excellent clubhouse and a built-in BBQ. It is a very special venue to me. I have played more than 100 matches

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there for Kings Field Casuals, Little Theatre Club, Koblenz and FC Faid during the annual summer Sportfest. In fact being asked to guest for FC Faid by team captain Alexander Hein was one of my favourite moments as a ‘park’ footballer. Faid won the final that year and I successfully netted from the penalty spot. After Alex picked up the trophy I thanked him for the honour of allowing me to play and added, “I can now die a happy man!” But back to the village derby; FC Faid took the lead early in the first half and looked well on course to put one over their big rivals. But Bushel grabbed a share of the spoils with an injury time equaliser. Disappointment for the home team but plenty to talk about in the clubhouse long into the afternoon. By the time I returned for the derby match, two huge moments had changed my life in vastly contrasting ways. I had met Victoria, the love of my life, and a football fan to boot! But Christmas had seen the passing of Dad, something that sent shock waves from Southend to Germany. Dad had become a popular visitor to Faid whenever our park team, Kings Field Casuals, had visited for the annual FC Faid Sportfest. Quite amazing really as Dad had been unsure about his first visit to Germany some years earlier. Having been brought up in East London his early memories of the Germans was when he was sent scurrying to

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the local London Underground station to avoid the air raids. But he soon discovered that the people of Faid are a friendly lot. He grew to love the place and always looked forward to our visits. The people of Faid showed their sorrow for our loss. To this day there is a memorial in Bar Fritzen in his honour. My German friends welcomed Victoria in the traditional, “Lets get drunk” manner. Together we all celebrated Dad’s life, and the warmth of the people shone through.

Kings Field Casuals wait to play at the FC Faid Sportfest

The match was won by Koln by a single goal in front of 50,000 fans. Bernd celebrated that night by playing the club anthem ‘Viva Colognia’ over and over in Bar Fritzen. The following day the sore head was back! The atmosphere in Germany during the summer of 2006 was brilliant. They were hosting the World Cup and everyone wanted to be there. Fortunately, along with the Kings Field Casuals touring party, we arrived just as the tournament had got going. The outward journey was quite memorable. The club had travelled to Germany on the Southend United Supporters Club Trust’s coach. As we reached the German border we

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were stopped and a surveillance helicopter that had been tracking us for some time landed on the autobahn in front of us. After checking our papers and having explained that we were actually playing football in Germany we were allowed on our way. FC Faid were as keen as anyone else to celebrate the tournament. A huge marquee had been set up at the football ground with a big screen showing the matches. To top it all off FC Faid were commemorating their 60th anniversary, the club having been re-formed in 1946 after the conflicts of WWII. All the major German Cities had set up World Cup ‘fan parks’ – areas where people would gather to watch the games if they were not lucky enough to have tickets for the events. The parks were full of people from all over the world. The Kings Field Casuals lads wanted to share the experience so a day was set aside to visit Koln. The party spirit was clear to see, fans from every corner of the globe sat side by side in the ‘fan park’ as we watched Australia play Italy. Some of the boys had been even more fortunate and had acquired tickets for the Ukraine v Switzerland match that was taking place in Koln that very night. Victoria and I along with Casuals tour captain Ian Stokes were lucky enough to be joining them for the match. We had come across a Jewish man who was selling some spare tickets almost at face value. We asked him how we could be sure the tickets were ‘kosher’. He told us we could enter the stadium with him and pay for the ticket once we were in. It was a real win-win situation. We found ourselves sat amongst a mixture of Germans, Ukrainians and Swiss. A wall of noise and a mass of cameras flashed to greet the teams onto the field. Next to me Victoria gave out a shriek – now, I know she likes her football but I never thought the World Cup would have her close to tears. As it turned out I was right; of all the 50,000 people inside the Rhine Energie Stadium, a lonesome bumblebee had chosen Vic upon whom to implant its sting. Talk about bad luck! For a match being played at the highest level world football can possibly offer, Ukraine and Switzerland served up what was described by TV pundits as one of the worst games in the tournament’s history. The match itself remained scoreless after 120 minutes. Ukraine triumphed in the ensuing penalty competition. Keeping with the overall poor standard Switzerland managed to miss all of their kicks! As the jubilant Ukrainian supporters left the stadium, TV and radio crews tried to capture their moment in the sun. One of the radio crews approached two suspects whom they believed to be fans of the victorious team. Little did they know that they were interviewing Kings Field Casuals tourists Terry Craven and Glen Eckett, who were dressed in the yellow of Canvey Island and the blue of Southend, which are the same colours as Ukraine. Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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The pair gave German radio the interview they required in a mixture of English, German and just about any other language they could remember learning during their school days! Neither England nor Germany (nor for that matter Ukraine) were victorious in the 2006 World Cup finals. But my first experience of international football on its biggest stage had been most enjoyable. History would have you believe the English and Germans are worlds apart and can’t possibly get along, but when you get right down to it football brings us all together and we are all very much the same.

Glen and Terry mistaken for Ukraine fans

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Odd Balls! First, may I apologise to all those of you who have bought, borrowed or stolen this book purely to read about football. However, the tale of Southend Invicta Rugby League Club needs to be told. If you are unfamiliar with the ways of the ‘egg chasing brigade’, then here is a very brief history of the sport: Rugby was discovered when the famed William Webb-Ellis cheated during a game of football. So…er…that’s about it really, Rugby is a game played by men who can’t play football! Picture the scene: it’s 1984 and Southend United are a club in crisis. Attendances are at an all time low, finances are almost non-existent, and the team are, well, bloody rubbish! The club’s custodians needed a master plan, something that would have the locals flooding through the turnstiles. So as you can imagine, eyebrows were raised amongst the Roots Hall faithful when we were informed that the Blues would be sharing their home with a Rugby League team. An uneasy air surrounded the Shrimpers supporters. Perhaps they were just coming in to share the running costs, but maybe Southend Invicta would push the Shrimpers out of Roots Hall altogether? Despite our unease we need not have worried. Although Southend United were suffering just about the most awful period in their history, Invicta were much worse! Southend Invicta played their first Slalom Lager Division Two fixture at Roots Hall on Sunday September 9th 1984 when Bramley were the visitors. A handful of Shrimpers supporters approached Roots Hall to join a collection of Northern exiles and Rugby Union enthusiasts, keen to see the Rugby League team take off. The round ball fans approached Roots Hall that day the same way fifteenth century villagers would have, had an alien space ship crashed into their settlement. We were going into the unknown, perhaps a little scared, but above all curious! The match programme that day was boldly headed with the title WELCOME TO OUR NEW HOME! But it soon became clear that our tenants were very untidy guests and would struggle to pay the rent. Bramley won that opening fixture by 17-14 watched by a crowd of 371, and that was about as good as it got! The team won only four matches all season. With Southend United also struggling at the foot of the Fourth Division it might have paid for the two teams to switch codes. I’m sure that the Shrimpers would have topped a League in Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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which they could score simply by kicking the ball over the goals! Around the middle of the season I made a rare pilgrimage to Roots Hall for Rugby League. I, along with 150 other lost souls witnessed Southend mauled 22-2 by Whitehaven. A visiting supporter turned to me and said Invicta were without doubt the worst team he’d ever seen. Thankfully he’d not seen the Shrimpers that season! As Invicta stumbled from one defeat to the next, crowds became sparse. Only 86 bothered to turn up for another hammering, this time by Blackpool. That was topped when a mere 85 made it along for the visit of Huddersfield. The Huddersfield match proved to be the final Near the end - Southend Invicta’s pitiful programme Rugby League fixture Invicta would play at Roots Hall. Right up to kick-off time rumours circulated that the match wouldn’t take place at all as Southend were unable to field a team. Following Invicta’s final match of the season (away at Blackpool) the club resigned from the League never to return. United and their supporters once again had Roots Hall all to themselves, Rugby League in Southend was dead. Perhaps Rugby League wasn’t meant for Southend. Maybe the game is just a ‘Northern thing’? The answer is open to debate. But shortly before my father passed away I took him to Griffin Park, Brentford to watch the London Broncos v Wigan Warriors. He had watched the newly formed Super League on TV and suggested that it looked quite exciting. Towards the end of the match I turned to Dad and asked him if he’d enjoyed the match. “I think so…” he replied sheepishly. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I haven’t a bloody clue what’s going on,” he answered! If you trail through E-bay you can sometimes find rare artefacts such as programmes and badges from Invicta’s ill fated stay in Southend. They were gone as quickly as they’d arrived. The only question being, did anyone realise they were here at all?

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Historic Football

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Festive Football Christmas has always been a busy time of year for football players and supporters alike. With so many games crammed close together it can be the make or break of a club’s season. Possibly the most famous football match to have taken place at Christmas was played in the icy mud of No Man’s Land on 24th December 1914 when British and German soldiers laid down their weapons and faced each other during a short armistice. Eye witnesses talk of the soldiers sharing drinks and cigars as well as playing a football match with as many as a hundred players in each team joining in the historic ‘kickabout’, another tale of football bringing people together in the wake of political madness. Unfortunately many senior officers were so incensed by the actions of their troops that they ordered any repeat would result in soldiers being shot for fraternising with the enemy. Until the late 1950s English League football still took place on Christmas Day. The final fixtures took place in 1959 when Blackburn Rovers beat Blackpool 1-0 in the First Division and Coventry City defeated Wrexham in a Third Division thriller that ended 5-3. Christmas Day fixtures in Scotland continued until as recently as 1976, although many clubs switched matches to the 24th, 26th and 27th December due to reluctance to play and bad weather conditions. However two fixtures survived as Clydebank drew 2-2 with St Mirren and Alloa Athletic defeated Cowdenbeath by the odd goal in three.

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In December 1983 Brentford attempted to move their Boxing Day fixture with Wimbledon back twenty-four hours in order to attract more spectators. Many supporters of both clubs stated that they would not attend a Christmas Day fixture so it was moved back another day to Christmas Eve. Wimbledon triumphed 4-3 in front of more than 6,000 fans. My team Southend United played no fewer than twenty-two matches on the 25th December between 1920 and 1957. In 1931 Southend played Exeter City on Christmas Day before travelling west for the return fixture 24 hours later. This is quite incredible when you consider the mileage and the lack of transport methods available to the clubs. Exeter won both matches with around 22,000 supporters witnessing the two fixtures. Without doubt the players of both Southend and Exeter would not have seen too much of families and loved ones over the festive period of 1931 due to travelling etc. It makes me sick to the stomach to think that today’s Premiership overpaid underachievers want a mid-winter break to save them from burning out. What with the money they are paid we fans should be able to demand that they play football every day of the year! On Boxing Day 1963 a total of 66 goals were scored in the First Division. The results were as follows: Blackpool 1 Chelsea 5 Burnley 6 Manchester United 1 Fulham 10 Ipswich Town 1 Leicester City 2 Everton 0 Liverpool 6 Stoke City 1 Nottingham Forest 3 Sheffield United 3 West Bromwich Albion 4 Tottenham Hotspur 4 Sheffield Wednesday 3 Bolton Wanderers 0 Wolverhampton Wanderers 3 Aston Villa 3 West Ham United 2 Blackburn Rovers 8 If this particular sequence of results were not strange enough, the return matches played two days later were quite extraordinary. West Ham, who had lost 2-8 at home to Blackburn, travelled north and won 3-1, while Manchester United beat Burnley 5-1 at Old Trafford only 48 hours after the Clarets had walloped them 6-1! Christmas had clearly taken its toll on Ipswich, who lost by double figures at Fulham. However by the time they met on the 28th December the hangovers had gone and Town won 4-2!

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September 8th, 1888: A Date With Destiny Saturday September 8th 1888 was an eventful day in British history. In Whitechapel, London, the notorious killer Jack the Ripper claimed his second victim – Annie Chapman. Although this grim finding has little to do with football the date most certainly has, as it was the day the newly founded Football League kicked off. Of the ten clubs who kicked off that historic Saturday all are still members of the Football League today, although Accrington have twice folded and only returned to the League in 2006, after 44 years in non-League football. Amongst the first day fixtures was a West Midlands derby between Wolverhampton and Aston Villa. It was around the half hour mark of this particular game that Gersham Cox of the Villa created history by scoring the first ever Football League goal. Sadly for Cox his historic strike was an own goal to give Wolves the lead. Later on in the match Tom Green equalised for Aston Villa and that’s how the game finished. At Preston North End they disputed the claim of Cox’s statistic stating that they had scored the League’s inaugural goal after only three minutes against local rivals Burnley; however, with Wolves v Villa kicking off at 3pm North End’s argument was lost, as their match started some fifty minutes later! The full set of results from Saturday 8th September 1888 was: Bolton Wanderers 3 Derby County 6 Preston North End 5 Burnley 2 Everton 2 Accrington 1 Stoke City 0 West Bromwich Albion 2 Wolverhampton Wanderers 1 Aston Villa 1 The national newspapers took very little interest in the series of fixtures with little more than a line written about each game. Imagine the outrage from the Premiership clubs of today if the nation’s media treated them with such contempt (God forbid!). Although the honour of the first goal was taken from them, Preston took the first Football League Championship by storm, winning all 18 matches and defeating Wolverhampton 3-0 in the FA Cup final to complete the first ever ‘double’. The team became known as ‘The Invincibles’. Seemingly there is little connecting the opening day’s fixtures and the Whitechapel murderer, however a slight football link is that Harry Chester Goodhart (who won two Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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FA Cup winners medals in 1879 and 1882, scoring no fewer than five hat tricks in the competition with Old Etonians, as well as leading the forward line for England), was under suspicion of knowing the identity of the killer. Goodhart was a close friend of no fewer than two of the nominated suspects!

The West Bromwich Albion team of 1888

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Radio Ga Ga As we drove back from Southend United’s first round FA Cup tie at AFC Telford United, we found ourselves in the capable hands of Radio Five Live as they brought us commentary from Liverpool’s Premiership fixture with West Bromwich Albion. The match held little interest to any of us, but as my good friend Ed would say, “It’s all football”, so we listened in intensely. Liverpool opened the scoring and the commentator’s voice became somewhat higher and louder not only with the excitement that follows a goal but also to be heard over the noise of the Anfield crowd. It sent a tingle down my spine. I must have been about 9 or 10 years old when I received a small radio for Christmas. It was not my favourite gift, after all what would I do with it? Chart Show on a Sunday evening, then what? But sitting bored in my room one Saturday afternoon I decided to take the plunge and move the dial away from Radio 1. Then it happened, a life changing moment. I stumbled across ‘Sport on Two’ with live second half commentary as well as all the updates from grounds around the country. The first match I listened to was Birmingham City v West Ham United. Despite the crackled sound I found that the feat of trying to picture each passage of play purely from the commentator’s voice and the crowd’s reaction had captured my imagination. Although the game ended scoreless I was hooked. Along with thousands of others, I was invited to listen in again the following Wednesday night when a Manchester United game (I can’t remember who they were playing) was being covered. From that day I found listening to a match on the radio far more enjoyable and exciting than watching on TV – although it must be said neither beat actually being at the game. BBC radio broadcast its first commentary on a professional football match in January 1927, when Arsenal played Sheffield United at Highbury Stadium. Later that year the BBC broadcast the Cup Final. Within four years the BBC was broadcasting more than 100 matches per season. In the early thirties, George Allison was the Beeb’s top commentator. To assist listeners with picturing what was going on, a diagram was published in the Radio Times, which showed a football pitch, divided into numbered squares. During the game Allison’s Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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sidekick would call out the number of the square in which the play was occurring. As the country fell into depression, attendances at football matches dropped considerably. Many clubs blamed radio coverage for the lower gates. During the summer of 1931 the Football League took the steps of banning all broadcasts of its fixtures, although the Football Association showed a more positive reaction with all of the FA Cup finals being broadcast on the BBC. The Football Leagues ban lasted until after the second world war. But with most households in Britain owning a radio, League Football returned to radio at the end of the conflict. Of course when I started going to games with Dad, a radio was an important part of the matchday survival kit. The classified football result was a vital part of Saturday afternoon, particularly when our teams were involved in a promotion or relegation battle. Discovering whether our chief rivals had dropped important points could make or break our day. Little has changed today, every week we race back to the car to listen as James Alexander-Gordon provides us with the final outcome of the day’s fixtures. Forgetting the radio could prove to be quite awkward. I remember standing on the platform at Bescot Station after watching Walsall during the Fellows Park years, desperately trying to hear the radio of the guy standing next to me. The bloke was clearly uncomfortable with me listening in and kept moving away from me. In the

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end I had to give up and go through the painful wait for results from the Sports Argus newspaper on my arrival back in Birmingham. The radio updates have not only informed me about the joy and despair of my team’s results. It was through the airwaves that I first learned of the Bradford City fire horrors. I remember standing on the Roots Hall terraces as Southend defeated Torquay United – I felt numb as I listened to the story unfold, first from a small fire holding up the match to the full scale disaster that followed. The memories of that day will stick in my mind forever. I also recall first reports that York City player, David Longhurst, had collapsed and died during a Fourth Division match with Lincoln City at Bootham Crescent.

The David Longhurst Stand at York City’s Bootham Crescent (aka KitKat Crescent)

The radio commentator can at time have a knack of showing a complete lack of impartiality. One example came courtesy of BRMB Radio’s coverage of the 1984 League Cup semi-final. Little Walsall had captured the hearts of the footballing romantics by reaching the last four, beating First Division Arsenal at Highbury along the way. But now they faced Liverpool over two games and with the first to be played at Anfield, few people gave the plucky Third Division side a hope. The Saddlers took the tie to the wire drawing the first leg 2-2. When journeyman striker Kevin Summerfield scored Walsall’s second goal, the commentator, George Gavin, excitedly pronounced, “God it’s wonderful here, two-two!” Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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Of course, from time to time the man on the microphone has been known to put his foot in it. From naming the wrong goal scorer to slipping out a misplaced obscenity, I’ve heard, and in most cases enjoyed them all. But one of my favourites was reported from Southend Hospital Radio, who were covering a game at Roots Hall during the late 1970s. The commentator said, “Colin Morris is operating on the wing, he’s cut inside the defender and left him for dead!” What a lovely image for those nervous listeners who were about to go under the surgeon’s knife! Despite televised football going into overdrive in recent years, listening to games across the airwaves remains popular with fans all over the world. Supporters of Southend and Colchester don’t agree on too many things but when BBC Essex announced that they were to pull the plug on covering their matches the fans joined forces to protest! Countless supporters the world over tune in to live radio match commentary every Saturday. It is a part of our footballing ancestry, passed from generation to generation. Try as it will, TV will never quite capture the imaginative drama that football on the radio holds.

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You’re a Bastard Referee! The unfortunately named Segar Richard Bastard was born in Bow, London on January 25th 1854. Not only was Bastard a referee, but he was also a footballer. He played outside right for Upton Park, Trojans and Leyton between 1873-87. He also appeared as a guest for Corinthians. He played for England in a 5-4 defeat to Scotland on 13th March 1880. England had trailed 5-2, but a late fight back almost saved them. Segar Bastard’s performance was described as ‘capable’ – but he was never selected for his country again. As a referee, Bastard was described as ‘a knight of the whistle’ when officiating the FA Cup Final of 1878, between the Wanderers and the Royal Engineers at the Kennington Oval. He also took charge of the first England v Wales international fixture at the same venue on January 18th 1879. As well as a footballer, Segar Bastard was a useful cricketer. He played for Essex between 1881 and 1885 before they became a first class County and was one of the first footballers known to have owned a racehorse. By profession Bastard was an attorney, he was also part of the Football Association committee between 1877 and 1883. His father, also named Segar Bastard, was a hop merchant. Segar Richard Bastard died on 20th March 1921 after suffering a fatal heart attack on Epsom railway station, he was 67 years old.

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A dapper 1880’s footballer!

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Tied in Ribbons! Here’s a question for you. What goes to the Cup Final every year but never gets used? Answer: The losing team’s ribbons of course! Decorating the cup in the winning team’s ribbons is said to have started in 1901. Southern League Tottenham Hotspur won the FA Cup defeating Sheffield United by three goals to one in a replay. They not only became the last non-League team to win the competition but the first to tie coloured ribbons to the trophy when they received it. Although Spurs were at the time said to be very proud of their famous first, seven years previously Notts County were photographed with a trophy that is clearly sporting ribbons. Although the argument between Spurs and Notts continues, cup ribbons did not catch on until the Wembley final era, which started when Bolton Wanderers defeated West Ham United 2-0 in 1923. But what of the losers – they go home with broken dreams, tears, disappointment and most importantly, empty handed. So what happens to their cup ribbons? Perhaps they are saved in case the unlucky team should return, this time triumphantly? Or maybe, like their Cup Final dreams, they end up in the bin! However, maybe something completely different could explain the whereabouts of the losers’ colours. Perhaps this little tale could help solve the mystery? In May 2006 Gretna Football Club were on the brink of great things. In 2002 the club had somewhat controversially resigned from the English non-League pyramid to become full members of the Scottish Football League, upsetting a number of Scottish Junior clubs who believed they should have been offered the position instead. Whatever way you look at it Gretna won their way through the divisions and were now on the brink of promotion into the Scottish Premier League. Not only were the plucky Borders club about to embark upon visits to Ibrox and Parkhead, first they had a small matter of a trip to Hampden Park for a Scottish Cup Final meeting with Heart of Midlothian. To complete the minnows’ dream scenario, due to Hearts’ high final League position, whatever the result of the final Gretna would be one of Scotland’s representatives in the EUFA Cup the following season. While Gretna prepared for the biggest day in their history some 450 miles away in Essex a small group of Canvey Island supporters were about to embark on a trip to Hampden for Cup Final day. Some time earlier the Gulls fans had ‘adopted’ Gretna Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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Gretna celebrate better times - a win over Raith Rovers earns them the Scottish Second Division Championship at the end of the 2005/06 season

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as their Scottish team, following their progress through the Leagues and on the great Cup run. The Canvey lads took their places amongst a 51,000 Hampden Park crowd. Not only was it a special occasion for Gretna and Hearts but also an unusual one. It’s not often the Scottish Cup Final doesn’t include either Rangers or Celtic, and even less likely that a team from outside the Premier League contests the trophy. As for the match itself, Gretna gave their more illustrious opponents the game of their lives. At the end of 120 minutes nothing could separate the teams. Rudi Skacel had scored for Hearts with Ryan McGuffie replying for the Borders club. The match was to be settled on penalties. Sadly for Gretna, The Jam Tarts held their nerve and won the shootout 4-2. Steven Pressley lifted the famous trophy for the Edinburgh club; the Cup was decked out in maroon ribbons. So what happened to the black and white ribbons, the ribbons that were only a couple of penalty kicks away from decorating the Scottish Cup? Folklore has it that the following morning the yellow army made their way back to Hampden Park for the museum and stadium tour. On arrival they asked the museum doorman if they could leave their luggage somewhere until the visit was finished. He directed them to a small room. On entry one of the party noticed the black and white

Yellow Army, Pirates and Smugglers! Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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ribbons sitting on a table. The doorman obviously had no knowledge of Canvey’s ancient history. In olden times the Island was said to be a hotbed for smugglers. Well, some things never change, years later in the twenty-first century and the pirates were up to their old tricks. On returning to the room the ribbons had mysteriously vanished. The story has it that the Gretna ribbons made their way back across Great Britain and onto the Essex Island. The Borders club and its supporters were none the wiser. The events of the 13th May 2006 proved to be the beginning of the end for Gretna Football Club. Forced to play home fixtures miles away at Motherwell due to their own stadium being inadequate for top-flight football, crowds plummeted as the team suffered a succession of defeats. Fewer than 500 supporters turned up for the home defeat at the hands of Dundee United. Eventually the club’s financial backer withdrew his support, blaming his own ill health for standing down. Gretna were placed into the hands of the receivers who stripped the club of its assets. To add insult to injury the SPL docked them 10 points as a result. Despite fears that Gretna would not fulfil their SPL fixtures the club soldiered on. The final match – strangely, against old cup foes Hearts – ended in a shock 1-0 victory. Less than 2,000 people had bothered to turn up. The club were unable to commit their future to the Scottish Football League and as a result were demoted to the Third Division. On the 3rd June 2008 Gretna Football Club resigned from the League altogether. The tragic tale was complete.. Well not quite. What of those Cup Final ribbons? Story has it that two shadowy characters met at Canvey Island’s Park Lane ground and the ribbons were exchanged for several tankards of beer! The Gretna ribbons are now said to reside in the far reaches of South East Essex along with several other strange footballing artefacts. In various alehouses of Canvey and Southend-On-Sea, storytellers can be found who believe they know the whereabouts of the unused ribbons. The ribbons that were moments away from decorating a glorious moment in Scottish football history. So where are the Gretna ribbons hiding: Canvey, Southend, Shoeburyness or even back across the border? Well now… I couldn’t possibly say!

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Players and Characters

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The Legend of Barrie Delf- Southend’s Unlikeliest Player Imagine the telephone ringing. It’s the manager of your local team and he’s in real trouble. He asks you the question every lad the world over dreams of being asked: “Can you play for us today?” I know what you’re thinking. It’ll never happen. Why would a professional football club phone someone almost completely out of the blue offering them a game in the first team? But way back in March 1983 it did!

In the depths of the Southend Borough Combination League, Barrie Delf was turning out as a centre forward for Leigh Ramblers 3rd team. In fairness he did have some experience as a goalkeeper. Some years earlier both Southend and Aston Villa had shown an interest in his custodian skills. But with no firm offer on the table Barrie returned to the Ramblers and the unglamorous park pitches of South-East Essex. Monday 21st March 1983 seemed like any other day for Barrie Delf. He was working as a civil servant in Southend. He had played for Leigh Ramblers on the Saturday and was waiting for a telephone call telling him whether he was wanted by the 3rd or 4th Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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team the following week. The phone duly rang, but it was not Leigh Ramblers at the other end of the line. During the 1982/83 season Southend United had two well-established goalkeepers on their books in the shape of Mervyn Cawston and John Keeley. Both had a wealth of Football League experience. Both had picked up niggling injuries and the Shrimpers had little in the way of back up. With the transfer deadline passed and other clubs reluctant to lend them a keeper, Southend were in a spot of bother, but with the doctor’s report informing manager Dave Smith that Cawston’s injury should clear up the club believed a new man between the sticks would not be required. To be on the safe side, Smith turned to Barrie Delf. He had remembered his trial from some years earlier and asked if he would like to sign on non-contract terms to cover the situation. This was perfect for Barrie. Southend told him that he was unlikely to be needed, but that they would give him a few games in the reserves for helping out. Signing as a non-contract player also meant he could continue to work for the civil service. As the week progressed the local newspaper reported that Mervyn Cawston’s thigh injury had shown little improvement and that manager Smith was considering handing the position to Delf. Barrie had given the match little thought – in fact, he didn’t even know who the Shrimpers were facing that weekend – but with the papers speculating on his unexpected appearance, he thought that he should do some homework. Sheffield United were to be the visitors to Roots Hall that fateful Saturday afternoon. They were without question the biggest club in the Third Division at that time and would arrive in Southend with five straight wins under their belts. On the other hand the Shrimpers were floundering in mid-table with just one victory from their previous six games. It was turning into a story even “Roy of the Rovers” couldn’t have made up! The morning of the match arrived and Barrie received an early telephone call from Roots Hall. Mervyn Cawston had not recovered from his injury and Barrie was to play… talk about being thrown in at the deep end! Delf then had to make a phone call of his own. He had to inform Leigh Ramblers that he would be unavailable for their 4th team fixture that afternoon. Barrie turned up at Roots Hall. It was then that he encountered the first hurdle of the day. He had little idea where the players’ car park was. He asked a man on the gates for directions, but discovered the steward had no idea who he was and was reluctant to let him in! Delf finally persuaded the gate man that he was Southend United’s goalkeeper, even if it was only for that day.

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Barrie made his way to the home dressing room. He was introduced to the rest of the players – in most cases he had not met with his teammates before. Stricken keeper Mervyn Cawston offered some words of encouragement and asked if his young standin had any gloves? Delf showed him his somewhat worn and dirty gloves, which had only seen action in a few park matches. Cawston then presented him with a brand new pair that had been provided for him by his sponsors. Delf sat in the changing room in a bit of a daze. Could this really be happening? What were the players thinking about having a “rookie” amongst them? What if it all went wrong, would the good people of Southend ever forgive him? I guess either way they’d never forget him! Barrie’s mind was spinning, but he soon realised he was one of the first team when a group of local school children were shown in and along with the other players he was asked to sign autographs. The teams ran out on to the Roots Hall pitch with Barrie still barely believing the events of the previous six days. But he was really here now, living out every football mad kid’s dream. He was determined not to let anyone down. The match started quietly for Barrie. Sheffield United did not threaten his goal in the opening exchanges, but with former Southend favourite Colin Morris and high profile strike partner Terry Curran leading the Blades attack he knew he would need to be on his toes. His first duel with the deadly Blades attack came midway through the opening half when Sheffield were awarded a penalty. Nobody had given Delf any information on the visitors’ dead ball specialists. He made up his own mind which way to dive for the kick, which was to be taken by ex-Shrimper Morris, and guessed wrong. The Blades had the lead. The goal kicked Southend into life. Top goal scorer Steve Phillips tore into the Sheffield defence claiming the match ball with a stylish hat trick. The visitors’ day worsened when talisman Terry Curran was sent off after inciting the Sheffield United supporters following a clash with the young keeper. Delf had clawed the ball back from the goal line following a mad scramble, Curran had tried to kick both the ball and keeper into the back of the net as the Blades went in search of a way back into the game. The Sheffield player had tried to hoodwink the referee by rousing the Blades fans into believing he had scored. In the madness that followed, Curran was given his marching orders and with him went any chance Sheffield United had of winning the match. To this day Delf is unable to tell whether the ball had crossed the goal line or not. Southend won the game 3-1, the local press and Shrimpers manager Dave Smith heaped Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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praise on the young custodian. But he would never play for Southend United’s first team again. The following week he was back in the Southend Borough Combination League with Leigh Ramblers’ 3rd team. The name Barrie Delf had not gone unnoticed. Former Southend player Peter Taylor invited him to play between the sticks for the club he now managed, Dartford. From there he returned across the Thames to Essex, joining Grays Athletic before returning to the Southend Borough Combination League with Second Division Little Theatre Club FC. At Little Theatre Delf served the club as a central defender during their promotion to Division One; his long, accurate passes forward setting up a number of goals for a young striker by the name of Jeeves!

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In Search of Dudley Duncan Dudley is what I would call a working man’s town. Although today it looks a little run down, just a brief glimpse around shows the signs of the West Midlands’ proud industrious past. From a football perspective the town may appear to hold very little. A couple of nonLeague clubs, one of which, Dudley Town, famously had to vacate their ground when a disused coal mine collapsed close by. In fact if you took a poll of the townsfolk most would pledge their allegiances to either West Bromwich Albion or Wolverhampton Wanderers. However, Dudley can proudly boast of being the birth and indeed final resting place of Manchester United legend Duncan Edwards. Born on the 1st October 1936, Edwards signed for Manchester United in his early teens. Both Aston Villa and Wolverhampton Wanderers were keen on signing the youngster but he joined United claiming it was the club for which he wanted to play. Wolves manager Stan Cullis was particularly bitter at missing out on such a rich local talent. He made various allegations towards the Manchester United management about the way they had allegedly enticed Edwards to play for them. Both United and Edwards rebuffed Cullis’ claims. On 4th April 1953 at the age of 16 years 185 days Duncan Edwards became the youngest footballer of the time to play in the First Division when appearing for United during a 4-1 defeat to Cardiff City. A year later he was selected for England, making him the youngest since the Second World War to represent his country. In a career that lasted just short of five years Duncan Edwards made 177 appearances for Manchester United scoring 21 goals, he also represented England on 18 occasions netting 5 times. On the domestic front Edwards helped Manchester United towards two First Division Championships, an FA Cup final and a European Cup semi-final. My dad, who had watched much of his early football at West Ham, a club renowned for producing quality young talent, was as good a judge as any of great footballers. I Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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remember him telling me about the time he witnessed one of Edwards’ displays in a match played at Arsenal. He told me how he could not quite believe that Edwards was so good at such a young age. He likened him to a footballer at his peak, sadly that was a stage of his career he was never destined to reach. The tragic events that took place at Munich airport on February 6th 1958 shook football to its very foundation. Manchester’s loss was felt all over the world. Duncan Edward clung on to life for 15 days after the accident. My mum, Eileen, recalls listening to the BBC radio news every morning. Edwards’ condition was the bulletin headline and everyone listened in hoping for some signs that the young footballer would pull through. On the 21st February 1958 Duncan Edwards lost his battle for life. He was just 21 years old. Edwards’ funeral at Dudley Cemetery was said to have been attended by more than 5,000 people – a measure of how he had been taken into people’s hearts. Years later football fans still talk about great players of the past. Duncan Edwards is no exception. In Manchester he is talked of as a legend – an amazing accolade for someone who was taken from the world so young with so much still to achieve. But what of Dudley, how do they remember their greatest son? Along with my travelling companions Ed, Phil and Glen, we go in search of Dudley Duncan. After walking into the town’s small market I ask one of the local traders for directions to Duncan Edwards’ statue and grave. He points us in the right direction and tells me that he was at the funeral. Despite the fact he was only 10 years old at the time his memories were very clear; it was an incredibly emotional time for the town and its people. Edwards’ statue stands proudly in the middle of Dudley High Street. We read the inscriptions and stand somewhat quiet. I’m not sure it was a planned silence. Perhaps we were trying to imagine what it was like for the people who had been lucky enough to see him play. The man at the market had told us that a further ten-minute walk along the Stourbridge Road is Dudley cemetery, the final resting place of our departed hero. The walk proves to be somewhat longer than the trader’s estimate. Ed by now is suffering from ‘If I walk another step’ disease and chooses to seek sanctuary in the

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Three Crowns. Glen notices the attractive advert for Guinness and joins him. For me and Phil the quest continues. We’ve come this far now there’s no turning back! We finally arrive at the cemetery and ask the grounds keeper the way to Duncan Edwards’ grave. It is a question he has been asked many times. Football fans from far and wide, and not just the supporters of Manchester United, visit the monument. We locate the grave and once again find ourselves standing silent. Surprisingly the monument is not a big spectacular structure. Sure it is larger than some of the stones and decorated with scarves left by respectful United supporters. But despite Edwards’ considerable fame he remained one of the people. Perhaps the fact his monument did not overshadow those around him proved that he just wanted to be one of them? I turn to Phil and mutter, “I wish I’d seen him play”. However, I’ll have to settle for old newsreel footage and the memories of older folk. We make our way back to the Three Crowns where Ed Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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and Glen are waiting. Four pints of Banks’ Best are ordered and talk turns back to the modern game. I’m sure Duncan Edwards would have been a star in the modern game, a claim with which the people of Dudley and Manchester will wholeheartedly agree!

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Simply the Best “Georgie Best-superstar-how many goals have you scored so far” It was 1974 and this was the first football song to which I knew the words. Of course, by the time it had reached us at Holt Farm Infants School the lyrics had changed somewhat and were a little less complementary. Nevertheless, this group of young fans knew all about football’s brightest star whether he “walked like a woman and he wore a bra” or not! People’s memories of George Best are very different. Some remember his flamboyant lifestyle, the clothes, the clubs, the womanising, and his famous line “ I’ve spent all my money on booze and birds, the rest I’ve squandered!” But I prefer to remember George Best the footballer. One of my earliest football memories was the television picture of George rounding the Northampton Town goalkeeper for his sixth goal of the game before seemingly taking a rest leant against the goal post! Not that this was my only Best memory. The early 1970s were littered with George’s brilliant goals. I recall him running past almost the entire Sheffield United team before shooting from a tight angle past the hapless Blades keeper, then the time he lobbed the Spurs defence as well as Pat Jennings, who were all scattered around the goal line. Who can forget seeing his 1968 European Cup final goal for Manchester United against Benfica at Wembley? Best was also an international superstar. He made 37 appearances for Northern Ireland but sadly and somewhat tragically never played in the finals of a major tournament. That didn’t stop him from providing the Windsor Park faithful with some great memories. A stunning hat trick during a 5-0 drubbing of Cyprus and the disallowed ‘goal’ for the Irish against Gordon Banks and England. Along with the likes of Derek Dougan and Pat Jennings, Best was a Northern Ireland Legend! Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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For me, George Best was the greatest footballer the world has ever seen. Even after he quit football at a young age after yet another bust up, fans everywhere hoped that he would make a comeback with their club. In fact there were a few Best comebacks, sadly for me none of which were at Southend United – although in 1983 I was privileged to see him play at Roots Hall for AFC Bournemouth in one of his final Football League appearances (the last away match Best ever played). The Best comebacks came in many different forms. The North American Soccer League, Non-league Dunstable Town, and in the City of Edinburgh! During one particular match for Hibernian, George was head and shoulders the best player on the pitch. Despite his brilliance the Hibees were thrashed 6-0 by Celtic! Sadly, as for so many stars, fame came at a price. The spectre of alcohol had taken over Best’s life and was ruining his health. The downward spiral was slow and painful to watch. In 2005 it took his life. He was only 59 years old. I’m sure every football fan has a memory of Best as he rattles the ball past yet another goalkeeper on a gluepot of a pitch, with radio and television commentators almost inventing words to explain how the Belfast boy has produced yet another piece of footballing artistry. My own memories of George Best are from 1983 when a young lad approached him whilst walking across the Roots Hall Stadium car park and asked “Mr Best, can I have your autograph?” Best smiled and replied “Certainly” before signing the boy’s programme. To this day it is my greatest footballing treasure!

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There’s Only One Cliff Jackson So my childhood dreams of being a professional footballer deserted me. Instead I’ve spent almost my entire career in the somewhat less glamorous surroundings of the print industry. My day to day regime of no thrills and in some cases little reward is a far cry from the champagne lifestyle of the Premiership or even the Conference League, but I have had the privilege of working beside some great characters. One such chap is Steve Jackson, the son of former player Cliff Jackson. Cliff made 364 Football League appearances between 1958 and 1974. He played for Swindon Town, Plymouth Argyle, Crystal Palace and Torquay United and is part of a unique band of footballers that have played in all four divisions of the Football League. Despite the fact that Cliff didn’t play for one of the country’s ‘glamour clubs’, one would expect that he and the family led a pretty good lifestyle. But back in the 60s, footballers didn’t earn the fortunes of the stars of today. Sure he did OK, but like for many other journeyman players of the time, the game did not make him a fortune. Cliff Jackson was born in Swindon, Wiltshire on the 3rd September 1941. As a teenager he played for Swindon Schools and was capped by England Schoolboys when they met their Scottish counterparts at Sheffield Wednesday in 1957.

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Cliff signed a professional contract at Swindon Town in September 1958. Chelsea had wanted the talented youngster but his parents were not keen on him moving away to London at such a young age. Later that month he made his League debut for the Robins, scoring a goal during a 2-2 home draw with Bradford City. Although he made only one further appearance that season, the early 1960s saw him emerge as one of manager Bertie Head’s great discoveries. Jackson went on to make 91 Football League appearances at Swindon netting 28 goals, before moving to Second Division Plymouth Argyle in 1963. In a three-year stint at Plymouth, Cliff made 69 appearances scoring a further 19 times. He developed a love for Devon that would see him return there later in his career. But while at Argyle, he became a firm favourite with the Home Park crowd. Son Steve was born during 1963 and does not remember his father’s days at Plymouth; but the next move provided his earliest memories of life as the son of a professional footballer. Bertie Head had worked wonders at Swindon Town and it hadn’t gone un-noticed. In South London, Crystal Palace were a club on the up. Head was appointed manager and immediately signed a number of his former Swindon fledglings including Don Rogers and Cliff Jackson. Palace had become quite a fashionable club. They played entertaining football and were on the brink of promotion to the First Division. Steve recalls, ‘Dad was Palace’s top goal scorer during the 68-69 promotion season’. The team played in front of big crowds and Steve was often at Cliff ’s side, not only on a match day but also at club events. “We went to one or two posh functions rubbing shoulders with some of the country’s top footballers. I even got photographed with Dad in the London Soccer Annual!” he adds. Steve also recalls a day at legendary Palace goalkeeper John Jackson’s house. “We were at John’s house for a barbeque or something, I can only have been about 3 or 4. I was probably messing about and managed to fall into his garden pond – a unique claim to

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fame you might say!” Despite being very young, watching his dad in the First Division was a fantastic experience, although in truth, Steve felt that he didn’t really appreciate what he was witnessing until he was older. Cliff was playing against the likes of Manchester United, Liverpool, Arsenal and West Ham with players such as George Best and Bobby Moore. It was a golden era for football. Cliff made 100 Football League appearances for Crystal Palace scoring 26 goals, 17 of which came during that Second Division promotion season. But with a regular first team spot becoming harder to nail down, Cliff decided to move on. Being a First Division player, one would have expected Cliff to perhaps move down a division for regular football. Despite there being a few interested parties his heart was set on a move to Devon, not back to Plymouth, but rather surprisingly to Fourth Division Torquay United. Undoubtedly, Cliff would have taken a big cut in wages making such a drop down the divisions. Today players would find other forms of income such as sponsorship, TV work or through the newspaper columns. The Jacksons made up the shortfall by

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investing in a number of caravans, which they let out to holidaymakers. It was the Torquay years that Steve remembers most of all. “I think Dad found the drop in standard a bit frustrating.” He recalls a match at Plainmoor when Cliff received the ball on the halfway line. “Dad had nobody to pass to so he simply turned and gave it back to the Torquay keeper. The crowd howled their disapproval, one particular spectator becoming quite animated. Little did the fan realise he was sitting directly in front of my mum who gave him an ear bashing!” Steve recalls another incident involving his mum. “During pre-season, the players were out on a road run. Mum was driving back from the town, and seeing a group of the lads, she pulled over to say hello. The players all jumped in the car and asked her to drop them further along the route, thus getting them out of a few miles of gruelling running. She had not noticed that Dad was not amongst that particular group. He was forced to complete the run. I don’t think he was too impressed that the other lads had skived training thanks to Mum’s help!” Between 1969 and 1974 Cliff Jackson made 114 league appearances for Torquay, scoring 13 goals. But all in all Torquay United was a good little club. Steve enjoyed going to Plainmoor but he insists, “I didn’t feel special having a dad who played League football – to me it was just the job he did.” However despite it being ‘just a job’ Steve admits that seeing his father score a goal gave him a tremendous buzz. After Torquay, Cliff briefly joined non-league Cambridge City. On retirement from the game he worked in community sports projects and had a spell living in Spain. Today the family have settled in Essex. Despite recent ill health, Cliff tries to keep up with his former teams. The game might not have offered Cliff Jackson and his family the riches of the modern day professionals, but ask any football fan up and down the country and they’ll tell you, playing League football, whether it be Torquay or Tottenham, is worth more than gold!

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Lucky “Chic” Readers could be forgiven for thinking I have something against Scottish goalkeepers following my tales of little Selkirk and their hapless goalie Richard Taylor. However, I’m very fond of the game north of the border and have some good memories of visits to the likes of East Stirling, Hamilton Academicals and Albion Rovers, not to mention the bigger clubs such as Celtic, Rangers, Hearts and Hibernian. But the simple fact of it is, Scotland has had more than its fair share of bad luck where custodians are concerned. Of course in the 1970s there was Stewart Kennedy of Glasgow Rangers. A fantastic prospect. When faced with a rampant English attack at Wembley on his international debut, he simply melted and Scotland were sent homeward to think again with a 5-1 defeat. Kennedy never recovered and ended up at Forfar Athletic! Then there was Alan Rough, part of Ally’s (McLeod) 1978 World Cup army. The Scotland manager had told the Tartan Army that his charges would return home from Argentina with the Cup. Sadly he did not allow for ‘Scruffy’s’ performance in the Peru match – the dream was over and Ally was out on his arse! Who could forget Jim Leighton? The former Aberdeen keeper had followed his manager Alex Ferguson to Manchester United, but the bandy-legged Jim failed to make the same impact as his celebrated manager and was sent packing to Dundee and Hibernian following an awful display in United’s FA Cup final with Crystal Palace. However, all of these keepers had it relatively easy compared to the late Charles ‘Chic’ Brodie. Brodie was born in Duntocher, Scotland in 1937 and went on to play for five clubs making 402 League matches between 1957 and 1970. The accident-prone custodian was dubbed ‘a walking mishap’ by the Sun newspaper following a number of bizarre incidents. In 1965 while playing for Brentford versus Millwall he found a hand grenade had been thrown into his goal. After part of the ground was evacuated the grenade prove to be nothing but a dud! During a match at Sincil Bank against Lincoln City, Brodie was floored when the whole goal collapsed on top of him! Probably the most famous Brodie classic was recorded by the TV cameras in 1970 when Brentford were playing Colchester United at Layer Road. Chic collected a back pass when a stray dog ran across the pitch after the ball. The mutt collided with the hapless custodian shattering his knee and effectively ending his first class football career. Whatever Happened To Tina Fillery?

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One would have imagined that nothing worse could happen to ‘lucky Chic’, however in 1971 while playing for non-League Margate in the FA Cup, he conceded double figures as a Ted MacDougal inspired Bournemouth rattled in eleven without reply. A few weeks later Chic broke his ankle. After Brodie retired from football he worked as a London cabbie, and misfortune struck once again when he collided with a Jaguar. The driver was England’s 1966 hero Geoff Hurst!

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Uncle Jack I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for Canvey Island Football Club, the reason being a man by the name of Jack Hinton. Jack was my great uncle. He moved to Canvey from East London and in the late 1950s he joined Canvey Island Football Club as reserve team manager. He had been a useful footballer before the war, and even when hostilities broke out he still played whenever he could. Unfortunately he suffered a severe injury in a motorcycle accident which ended his footballing career, so he turned to management and administration work within the Ilford & District league and also managed one of Leytonstone’s teams. Now Uncle Jack was a character. As children we used to go to his house in Urmond Road, Canvey and would spend long Saturday afternoons playing football or cricket in his garden while he and my father were at Park Lane. When they returned from football, Jack, a member of the magic circle, would put on a magic show for my me and my cousins. I remember one trick he performed on my Auntie Tessa. He put her arm into a contraption with a huge knife bolted to it, the knife would be draw down and would appear to slice through her arm. We would all gasp! But of course auntie Tessa still had her arm. To this day I don’t know how he did the trick and I’m not sure I want to know either! It was during one of these magic shows that we found out the full extent of Jack’s war injury. The motorcycle accident had damaged his right leg, which led to it having to be amputated. Of course uncle Jack didn’t want us kids to know that his war wound was received working as a dispatch rider so he told us that he’d been run over by a German tank! I remember we all stood open mouthed as he told us – what a hero!

Uncle Jack (left) as my Dad’s Best Man

Jack progressed through Canvey Island FC and became club chairman. Along with several others he worked tirelessly for the club putting on the social activities and mucking in with maintenance on the ground. Reg Wellman, a good friend of

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Jack’s and a Park Lane regular, recalled a time when they were working together on the pitch. It was a cold wet day and the ground had become very boggy. Jack was working by the corner flag when his boots became stuck in the muddy pitch. As he pulled his leg up, the artificial limb came away and was stuck upright in the mud. Imagine the scene as Jack, hopping on his good leg, tried to pull the other out of the thick mud! Jack also played a part in discovering one of the South East Essex area’s finest footballers, Peter Taylor. Taylor played for Canvey before being sold to Southend United for £100. When he left the Shrimpers for Crystal Palace the London club paid more than £100,000 for his services! He then went on to play for Tottenham and Orient before turning to management with Southend, Gillingham, Brighton, Leicester, Hull and recently Crystal Palace and Wycombe Wanderers. He also famously took charge of the England national team for a fixture with Italy – his legacy, appointing David Beckham as England captain.

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Geordie Frank Big Frank from the engineering department is a Geordie. He knows all 28 verses of ‘The Blaydon Races’ (well it seems like 28!), and although he has not been to a match in more than 30 years, he is Newcastle United daft. Despite the Black & Whites’ almost limitless ability to frustrate the living daylights out of even the most loyal of their fans, Frank’s love for his team never diminishes. Tales of watching from the Gallowgate End while Jackie Milburn terrorised a succession of First Division defences are commonplace. “If only United had Milburn and Hughie Gallagher now,” Frank bemoans. With most fans in the Northeast, whether it’s Newcastle or Sunderland, supporting your team is more like a religion. However good or bad the team performs you still have to attend ‘church’ every Saturday afternoon at 3pm. The fans can all see what’s right and wrong with the team and in most cases they have their own view on how they would change things if they were the manager. Frank is much the same. “Of course it could have all been different now,” Frank tells me. “If only they’d put me on sooner!” he adds. I begin to question Frank about what he means. “Have I never told you about the time I played at St James Park?” he proudly boasts. “No,” I answer inquisitively. Frank begins his tale. It was the early 1960s and Newcastle were having a tough time of it. The visitors were Wolverhampton Wanderers and the old ground

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was packed to the rafters. The Midlanders had a useful team in those days and from the first whistle they tore into United. The referee’s whistle brought the first half to a close with Newcastle trailing. The team left the field to a crescendo of discontent from the packed terraces. “So what about you Frank?” I ask. “How did you turn things around?” Frank tells me how he stood shaking in the players’ tunnel. “The captain asked me if I was ready. I nodded back at him nervously. The skipper gave the signal. We walked out in line and began to play. The packed Gallowgate gave us a great reception and cheered loudly.” In the second half Newcastle performed much better, and at the end of the game the home fans went home happy. “Did you change the game Frank?” I ask. “I’d like to think so,” he replies. Having never heard Frank’s story before and being totally unaware of his moment of glory at his beloved St James Park, I ask him one final fatal question. “So what position did you play?” Frank looks back at me, laughs and exclaims, “3rd clarinet in the Herrington Colliery Welfare Military Band!”

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My children Alfie (top) and Stanley (bottom) express a different take on watching our beloved Southend United at Sheffield Wednesday and Walsall. The Shrimpers lost both games!

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The author would like to thank the following people for showing faith in him by pre-ordering this publication. Thank you. Name: Ada’s & Feb’s Daddy Anene Alisdair McColm Andrew Michael Davis Andy Benham Ashley Turner Barrie Delf Bernd Pauly Bill Haines Brian Chester Carl Catley Chris & Marion Cave Chris Hill Craig Lorkin Darren Posnack Daryl Brough Dave Ayling Dave Brabbing Dave Singleton Dean Allum Derek Wythes Don Martin Dwayne Newcombe Eileen Jeeves Elsie Siddons Elsje Smart Frank Dixon Frank Sanders Gary Dover Gary Fardell Gavin Kincade Glen Eckett Graham Linney Graham Moore Helen Mulley Herbert Schoos Ian Stokes

Book 20090218.indb 1

Football Team: Super Eagles (Nigeria) Stranraer Southend United Southend United Walsall Grays Athletic 1 FC Koln Leamington Aston Villa Manchester United Southend United West Bromwich Albion West Ham United Southend United England Canvey Island Southend United Leyton Orient Southend United West Bromwich Albion Walsall Southend United Southend United Walsall Ajax Newcastle United Arsenal Canvey Island Everton Coventry City Canvey Island Canvey Island Ipswich Town Ipswich Town Borussia Monchengladbach West Ham United

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Iris Fillery Jack & Sam Purnell Jamie Cracknell Jeff Sharp Jeffrey John Griffiths Jeffrey Wright Jenny Davies Jim Laird Joe & Linda Sugden Joe Priddle John Vicary Joshua Alan Ball Karen Priest Karen Purnell Katherine Shaw Kathy Brooks Keith Griffiths Keith Roe Ken Hinton Kenneth F.C. Moss Kerrie Kincade Laura Anderson Lee Hosking Lee Purnell Lee Venus Lee Wittridge Lewis Burgess Lorraine Huckle Mark Chittock Mark Cox Mark Edwards Mark Hurrell Mark Wallis Mark Westwick Mark Wheeler Martin C Ward Martin Cramer Martin Murphy Mary Parry Matt Chinnery Matt Hudson Maureen Adams Michael John Eyre

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Walsall Aston Villa Leyton Orient Milton Keynes Dons West Ham United Arsenal Southend United Great Wakering Rovers Birmingham City Arsenal Barnsley Portsmouth Halesowen Town Birmingham City Southend United Wolverhampton Wanderers Wolverhampton Wanderers Southend United West Ham United Tottenham Hotspur Coventry City Canvey Island West Ham United Aston Villa Southend United Tottenham Hotspur Southend United West Ham United Canvey Island Arsenal Southend United Manchester United Southend United West Ham United Bristol Rovers Chelsea Southend United Celtic Ipswich Town Leyton Orient Colchester United West Ham United Walsall

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Michael Wright Michelle Brown Michelle Harris Morgan Jones Morwenna Lawson Neil Irvine Nick Caplin Nobby Johnson Norman Cullender Pam Fry Paul Bygrave Paul Edge Paul Fillery Paul Hill Leyton Paul Kilby Paul Murray Paul Stevens Paul Watson Paul Wheeler Paul Yeomanson Peter Rochulus Phil Claydon Phil Cox Phil Mackenzie Ray Doyle Reg Wellman Richard Stone Rob Davies Robert Craven Robert Langley Robert Starr Ron & Dawn Ashford Ron Purnell Ronnie Pountney Royston Randle Sally & Terry Andrews Sam Eades Samantha Crump Samdoe Wanjeri Scott Ward Shane Kirk Simon Wright Stephen Baxter

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Walsall Coventry City Birmingham City Southend United Plymouth Argyle Leyton Orient Chelsea Great Wakering Rovers Southend United Chelsea Southend United Ipswich Town Walsall Orient Arsenal West Ham United West Ham United Walton & Hershan Tottenham Hotspur Southend United Borussia Monchengladbach Tottenham Hotspur Southend United Tottenham Hotspur Southend United Canvey Island Leyton Orient Millwall Southend United Leyton Orient Manchester United Nottingham Forest Aston Villa West Bromwich Albion Walsall Walsall Liverpool Southend United Liverpool Celtic Ipswich Town Tottenham Hotspur West Ham United

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Stephen Fillery Steve Jackson Steven Fredrick Terry Craven Thabani Ndlovu Tina Jones Tony Butcher Trevor Bashford Warren Drury Wayne Adams

Walsall West Ham United Southend United Southend United Arsenal Walsall Great Wakering Rovers Southend United Canvey Island West Ham United

Also available from Shrimper Publishing - The Southend United Soccer Miscellany. 100 pages packed with facts, trivia and photos for only £7.99. Buy online at www.shrimperpublishing.co.uk

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