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Authors: Brian Darley
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to referee. I remember him being equally as bad at refereeing as those that people regularly criticise on the television today.
I told Angela and Georgina about this as I was rapidly becoming paranoid that somebody had been sent by Angela’s Dad to spy and report back to him. Or could it be a detective? I seemed to vaguely recognise the younger of the two but, for the life of me, I couldn’t think where I had seen him before.
Nothing much seemed to happen between Angela and myself until one evening after school when, for the first time, my hand ventured inside of Angela’s knickers. We were in the hut and had got carried away so much I had tried my luck and although it was nearly dark I saw her naked for the first time. We had both left in a very excited state and when I arrived at Grandad’s he said that Mum had put a note through his door telling me to return home straight away.
By this time of my life I was trusted with my own front door key and I let myself in and wandered straight into the front room where Mum and Daisy were watching the tele which was Daisy’s treat before tucking down for the night. Previously Dad had read to her but more often than not it was him who had fallen asleep and not Daisy. Mum didn’t seem at all troubled and then Dad called me into our dining room where the second man, who was always at football matches, was sitting at the table. My first thoughts were ‘oh bloody hell, surely he doesn’t know I have been in Angela’s knickers, he must have been following us for days, what excuse can I make? Mum and Dad will murder me and I am sure Angela’s Dad will do the same’! He was smartly dressed in black trousers, white shirt and a very expensive looking blue tie. His tie was very official looking, which further made me think that he was a plain clothed policeman. As soon as Dad told me who this man was I recognised where I had seen his picture before. His picture had been on one of the fag cards I had collected from bubble gum. They were still referred to as fag cards, although cigarette companies had withdrawn them many years previous. Most lads bought the bubble gum just to collect the cards and the bubble gum was nearly always thrown away without being chewed. It came to me in a flash that when I was collecting cards at around the age of 9 I had a picture of this man playing for a top football team. Had he retired from the game and joined the Police Force I wondered? He explained he was now a Manager of a team whose name I had heard of many times and knew they were not a Southern club and were based many miles from my home town. Unbeknown to me, firstly his scout and then himself had been watching me play for ages and were impressed enough to want me to join them. He asked Dad if he could take me into town to buy me a tea and Dad agreed but said I would have to pop into Grandad on the way to explain things as he might worry. This gentleman had a very luxurious car, I think it was a Jag but couldn’t really be sure. This was an adventure in itself as I had only ever been in a car once before and that was an old crate.
When I popped in to see Grandad I explained what was going on and by the look on his face you would have thought I had just been awarded my first England cap. It was obvious he was very pleased and proud. At the poshest cafe in town, the Remo, I had sausage, mushroom, egg and chips, washed down with two large mugs of tea. Budding footballers of those times didn’t really concentrate on diets as modern day sportsmen do. It was delicious and the cafe was far better and up market than anywhere I had been before. It had table cloths and napkins and we were waited on, unlike the working cafes I had been into with Dad, which were full of workers usually in filthy boots and overalls. It was proposed that as I was now in my last year of schooling I should sign a pre-contract agreement which would stop other clubs from trying to sign me. This was not the offer of a trial it
I told Angela and Georgina about this as I was rapidly becoming paranoid that somebody had been sent by Angela’s Dad to spy and report back to him. Or could it be a detective? I seemed to vaguely recognise the younger of the two but, for the life of me, I couldn’t think where I had seen him before.
Nothing much seemed to happen between Angela and myself until one evening after school when, for the first time, my hand ventured inside of Angela’s knickers. We were in the hut and had got carried away so much I had tried my luck and although it was nearly dark I saw her naked for the first time. We had both left in a very excited state and when I arrived at Grandad’s he said that Mum had put a note through his door telling me to return home straight away.
By this time of my life I was trusted with my own front door key and I let myself in and wandered straight into the front room where Mum and Daisy were watching the tele which was Daisy’s treat before tucking down for the night. Previously Dad had read to her but more often than not it was him who had fallen asleep and not Daisy. Mum didn’t seem at all troubled and then Dad called me into our dining room where the second man, who was always at football matches, was sitting at the table. My first thoughts were ‘oh bloody hell, surely he doesn’t know I have been in Angela’s knickers, he must have been following us for days, what excuse can I make? Mum and Dad will murder me and I am sure Angela’s Dad will do the same’! He was smartly dressed in black trousers, white shirt and a very expensive looking blue tie. His tie was very official looking, which further made me think that he was a plain clothed policeman. As soon as Dad told me who this man was I recognised where I had seen his picture before. His picture had been on one of the fag cards I had collected from bubble gum. They were still referred to as fag cards, although cigarette companies had withdrawn them many years previous. Most lads bought the bubble gum just to collect the cards and the bubble gum was nearly always thrown away without being chewed. It came to me in a flash that when I was collecting cards at around the age of 9 I had a picture of this man playing for a top football team. Had he retired from the game and joined the Police Force I wondered? He explained he was now a Manager of a team whose name I had heard of many times and knew they were not a Southern club and were based many miles from my home town. Unbeknown to me, firstly his scout and then himself had been watching me play for ages and were impressed enough to want me to join them. He asked Dad if he could take me into town to buy me a tea and Dad agreed but said I would have to pop into Grandad on the way to explain things as he might worry. This gentleman had a very luxurious car, I think it was a Jag but couldn’t really be sure. This was an adventure in itself as I had only ever been in a car once before and that was an old crate.
When I popped in to see Grandad I explained what was going on and by the look on his face you would have thought I had just been awarded my first England cap. It was obvious he was very pleased and proud. At the poshest cafe in town, the Remo, I had sausage, mushroom, egg and chips, washed down with two large mugs of tea. Budding footballers of those times didn’t really concentrate on diets as modern day sportsmen do. It was delicious and the cafe was far better and up market than anywhere I had been before. It had table cloths and napkins and we were waited on, unlike the working cafes I had been into with Dad, which were full of workers usually in filthy boots and overalls. It was proposed that as I was now in my last year of schooling I should sign a pre-contract agreement which would stop other clubs from trying to sign me. This was not the offer of a trial it
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