It is 5 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon at my preparatory school, St Richards, some time in the mid 1950s. Along with one or two other sports-minded boys, I am sitting in our English teacher's room, listening to Sports Report. It is broadcast on the Light Programme and is introduced by Eamonn Andrews. The football results are read out by the peerless John Webster whose wonderful diction and clear delivery, in my opinion, have never been matched.
Why should I be the slightest bit interested in the results, since I know next to nothing about football nor indeed the British Isles, having scarcely ever set foot outside my native East Anglia apart from this school in the Malvern Hills and another one somewhere in Hampshire? And yet I am passionately committed to the fate of certain teams, solely on the basis of the way they SOUND. Two of my favourites are Preston North End and Charlton Athletic. I don't think Charlton is a major club but Preston, with Tom Finney, are one of the great teams of the 'fifties.
When I look back on that long-ago time, I am struck by the extraordinary preponderance of football clubs on either side of the Pennines and, to a lesser degree, in the Midlands and the North-East. They stand as a lasting testimony to the Industrial Revolution, and even today football teams in the effete and prosperous south remain relatively thin on the ground.
Why should I be the slightest bit interested in the results, since I know next to nothing about football nor indeed the British Isles, having scarcely ever set foot outside my native East Anglia apart from this school in the Malvern Hills and another one somewhere in Hampshire? And yet I am passionately committed to the fate of certain teams, solely on the basis of the way they SOUND. Two of my favourites are Preston North End and Charlton Athletic. I don't think Charlton is a major club but Preston, with Tom Finney, are one of the great teams of the 'fifties.
When I look back on that long-ago time, I am struck by the extraordinary preponderance of football clubs on either side of the Pennines and, to a lesser degree, in the Midlands and the North-East. They stand as a lasting testimony to the Industrial Revolution, and even today football teams in the effete and prosperous south remain relatively thin on the ground.
Greetings Barnaby
ReplyDeleteRugby was the name of the game at that certain school in Hampshire. I am not so sure that teams in the S. of England are quite as effete as you paint. The fondest football memory I have is of a time in the 1980s after my eldest son insisted I took him to watch football. I agreed to take him to all of the then Wimbledon FC FA cup games played at home. That turned out to be the year Wimbledon made it to the final at Wembley to play a northern team which I think is still around - Liverpool FC. Other dads from our sons' school booked a coach and we traveled to the final each emphasising our disinterest in football really but that we were all going as part of the duty of being a father. The football was not very good but the atmosphere was electric especially when Wimbledon won. The coach trip home was full of football crazy dads and boys. A few days later the team came to see the fans in an open topped bus at Wimbledon Broadway which was packed with well wishers. Great times indeed for the not so wimpish Crazy Gang.
Hello Jerry.
ReplyDeleteThe school in Hampshire was called Crusaders. Rugby was played there too, and I can remember to this day a star player called Cary-Elwes (?).
The 1980s were something of a lost decade for me as far as events in England were concerned, so Wimbledon's success in 1988 barely registered with me. Didn't they have a licenced thug called Vinnie Jones playing for them?!
Hello again Barnaby
ReplyDeleteI had thought that your Hampshire school was Beaumont with you suffering a momentary memory lapse as to the county (Berkshire although Hampshire and Surrey boarders are close by).
Some footballers have always appeared to have thuggish publicity - Chopper Harris of Chelsea earlier in the 80's or even b4 for one and not a few in recent English national football teams for others...
Jerry, the school in question was at Headley Down, Bordon, near Alton and Grayshott. It didn't last very long (1948-54) and, looking back, it reminds me of the school in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.
ReplyDeleteYes, England has always had its hard men, hasn't it? Nobby Stiles and Norman Hunter, to name but two!
Was that the school attended by the molesworth bros.?
ReplyDeleteDid you have a skool dog?
Not that I remember! But then I remember very little of my time there. The headmaster was called Commander Walker and his wife, I think, suffered from polio. Two of the masters were called Mr Haddon and Mr Reece. The school fell on hard times and had to transfer to Cheshire in the middle of the summer term. I think I spent the winter term there too before going to St Richard's in January 1954 or 1955.
ReplyDelete