It was a grim winter day, the skies were grey and the birds had even stopped singing. We trudged reluctantly past the black, foreboding gates of the Victorian park. A thin line of frozen schoolboys. Heading out for an afternoon of football.
This was my first experience of school football. Iโd seen Leeds United play and so I had a good idea of how the game was played (a la – 1970 Leeds style.)

During that winter my bedroom had ice on the window (on the inside). Linoleum on the floor and duvet was just a French word. So football boots were not an essential item. But there was hope!
Anyaways… back to the plot. Upon arrival at our destination our hardened PE teacher told us to get changed while he checked the boiler room (cigarette break!) As I say, mam and dad couldn’t afford football boots, but my brother-in-law, who was in the army came to the rescue. He gave me some boots. His old rugby boots! Not quite the ones I wanted…
This seemed like a good idea, except they were size 11. There may have been some confusion with my age and boot size. So, out I trumbled looking like Co-Co the clown, with a scrounged, football shirt that was three sizes too big. After the joviality had ceased and I managed to hold back the tears, the game started.




I volunteered for the position of right back which, to the un-initiated is a defender. This was, in part, because my best friend was in goal and I thought we could have a chat. When the first attacker bore down on us I immediately ran out and kicked his legs from underneath him. The whistle blew!
“Who the bloody hell do think you are, lad?” Came the voice of our irate teacher, ” Jack Charlton?”
“No, Sir, Norman Hunter,” I replied innocently.
“Off, off, get off my pitch.”
He appeared visibly distressed. this was one of our first encounters. I have written about our relationship in a previous post, here.
My football days were obviously numbered and to be honest I spent most of them on my own in the shower.
And that my friends is how I became a runner. Have a good week and remember, love the one you are with (at any given time ๐) โค๏ธ
I remember that Leeds United team like it was yesterday. If you got sent off for being Norman Hunter, just thank your lucky stars you didn’t mention “Chopper” Harris (double wammy – he was the Chelsea “Norman Hunter). This post bought back some fond memories of those early seventies heroes of mine… “Sniffer” Clarke, Billy Bremner, Gordon McQueen… Madeley, Reeney etc… they don’t make ’em like that any more. Probably just as well. There is enough violence in this world as it is. Do you remember Keegan and Bremner in the Charity Shield? A whole Gulf War on the Wembley turf! Ahh, those were the days.
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Oh yes, remember the Keegan/Bremner incident lol. Leeds/Chelsea FA cup final too- twice haha. I remember Chopper Harris going for George Best and Best leaving him in his wake. Glad you liked it, Pete. They were unrepeatable times ๐
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Oh, and I forgot Lorimer who kicked a ball at 70 MPH…
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That team was just crammed with talent ๐
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That’s a shame
Leeds had a bad day today โฝ๏ธ
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Damn. That Hunter guy would just as soon kick people as kick the ball. I had to laugh at his face. He was like “What? What’d I do?”
You bad boy, Charlie…
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Haha, yeah, his nickname was โbite yโlegsโ and thank you ๐
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LOL!
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The first match my son played he kicked the ball into his own goals.. He didn’t like soccer after that iether.. ๐
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๐๐ It would put a kid off
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Pingback: My Days of Football – Kreativ Solo
Difficult to think of those days without thinking that the game has not improved, that games teachers were a breed apart and that rugby is the proper game for many of us. They are even trying to sanitise that now. (Crabby old git carries on for another 20 minutes on the theme “In my day…”) ๐
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๐
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Fun entry to read; reminds me of a day I went to an away varsity basketball game and forgot to bring my sneakers. Thanks for the inspiration…now off you go.
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Thank you, ๐๐
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