• Farewell, Sir Bobby
    Thunderous shooting that transcended his era. Maybe you have to be a certain age. When they announced it during the game the crowd of six hundred barely reacted. No gasps or murmurs. My son shrugged, apologetic. I was thirteen in 1966, watching every game I could on TV, filling in the wall charts. Never thought […]
  • Floating Man
    Uh-oh. The world’s gone pear-shaped. I have a feeling that I’m close to home, or at least the train. Too old for this malarkey. Was doing so well. Now I’m all over the place, lost count, head swimming. This kind of night happens once in twenty years, if then. You have to celebrate. Toon Army! […]
  • The hunger
    One hundred thousand, at least, for a friendly. The Russians were still our friends, weren’t they? November 1945. So many servicemen back from the war hungry to watch football again. A photo shows them on the roof of the old East Stand, crowding around the goalmouth. Moscow Dynamo presented each Chelsea player with a bunch […]
  • Come on, The Colliers!
    A lone bugler occasionally blasts out the right note. Maybe also the source of the odd native American war cry. The few hundred at Ashington are passionate in their support. Proud mining town, home of the Charlton brothers and Jackie Milburn. But nothing works. A looping header hits angle of post and crossbar early on […]
  • Come on, The Colliers!
    A long bugler occasionally blasts out the right note. Maybe also the source of the odd native American war cry. The few hundred at Ashington are passionate in their support. Proud mining town, home of the Charlton brothers and Jackie Milburn. But nothing works. A first-half breakaway by the men from Yorkshire is enough. No […]