May
2nd 1964 The date of my first game, only I wasn't supposed to be
going. The old man had come home from work that week with tickets for
himself and my older brother, at that time football to me was a kick
about in the back garden a mess around activity between us all with
lots of fun and laughter. A couple of days before the match my
brother was feeling unwell and much to his disappointment it was
decided he would be better off staying at home, so out rolled the
substitute, yours truly.
There was a bit of discussion about
whether I should go as well, after all I was still 2 months short of
my 4th birthday, but the old man convinced my mum that it would be
ok, after all I was big for my age and could easily pass for a 5 or 6
yr old. My recollections of what happened that day are a bit hazy,
most of what I write will be from conversations that took place some
years later.
I'll start off by saying my old man is a Gooner,
always was, always will be. So as far as I knew we were going to
watch a football match between a team from London and a team from up
north (where ever that was), who were playing for some sort of prize.
Now the London team had in a previous match, vanquished a much
vaunted team also from up north called United. But the London team
was also called United which to my mind caused much confusion, how
did we know which United had won I asked. My dad explained that the
united part was a bit like a surname, lots of clubs had it but had a
different first name and the one from Up North that lost was called
Manchester. This, of course, made eminent sense to me we were
supporting London United!
We arrived at Wembley where my Dad
met up with some friends from work and started to make our way to the
stadium I had never seen so many people all in one place. On the way
in a chap wearing a dark red and light blue scarf asked who we were
supporting (as we had no scarfs ourselves). "London United" I said
in my loudest most grown up voice.
He laughed and said Nah mate!
They're call West 'am United , The 'Ammers, this scarf is their
colours Claret n Blue, mate, and off he ran into the crowd still
laughing and shaking his head.
We got into the stadium and
found places near the front, close enough for me to get a good view
and far enough back that we were not right at the front. Most of the
match passed me by in a frenzy of noise and colour, we didn't start
off too well and they scored after about 10 minutes, then we got one
back almost straight away (much to the relief of those around me).
The game started to get quite exciting and I started to join in the
shouted support for West Ham. Then we started to play not so good
again and they scored, a short time later the whistle blew. Did we
lose? I asked my Dad disappointingly, Not yet son, its half time
there's still another 45 minutes left.
The second half started
and we were looking good, but the game kept too-ing and fro-ing. Then
from a corner we scored again and it was 2 all. The game could have
gone either way, both teams having scoring chances, it was starting
to look like it would be a draw at full time, but suddenly, in the
dying minutes we scored again. The Whistle blew for the final time
and West Ham United had won the FA Cup.
We stayed long enough
to see the cup lifted then made our way home. For weeks afterwards my
brother kept telling me how lucky I was to have been at the match. Of
course at the time I did not know what he was on about .it was only a
football match after all.
I had flirtations with other clubs
for a few years after that (as most kids at my primary school did
depending on their favourite player at the time), as I said before I
was big for my age (I was about 4-5 taller than most of my peers and
was of a stocky build) so I always got picked to be in goal or as a
Centre Back because of that I (as any school kid would) styled
myself on my favourite player at that time. Bobby Moore was my hero.
As you can imagine it was a
raucous in my household at that time, the old man being a Gooner, me
a Hammer, my older sister was into Chelsea (I think that was more due
to the two Peters, Osgood and Bonetti rather than the football) and
my younger brother was into Leeds United (he liked Peter Lorimer - he
of the hard shot).
As for my older brother, a few months after
the match we moved house and he had a little accident. Nothing
serious, but he had a few problems getting over it. After some
investigations at the hospital it was found that he had Leukemia.
Back in those days Radiotherapy was in its infancy, Chemotherapy was
not even being tested and Bone Marrow transplants were not even
thought of. He died not long after at the age of six. I now
appreciate how lucky I was to go to that game, the one he should have
gone to. I am sure if we had known how ill he really was, then he
would have gone and he would have been a Hammer as well.
Farewell
Boleyn
Prior to the outbreak of WW2 the town of March boasted two senior
clubs, March Town FC and March GER United FC, with the GER Sports Ground
home to the latter since its opening in 1923. Although the modern
nickname of ‘The Hares’ and also the club crest is clearly a reference
to the March Hare; the older ‘Railwaymen’ nickname is a reminder of the
Great Eastern Railway (GER). Founded in 1911, United had originally
purchased the then Shepperson’s Field from the local grammar school by
floating shares of £1 each, and the splendid wooden grandstand that is
very much the focal point, was constructed the same year.
