The making of a Legend

Two things made me laugh this morning. And boy, did I need a pick-me-up as the thick cloud, that had settled comfortably above our hill overnight, dumped more rain onto our already sodden gardens.

No chance today of any distant views across the Bristol Channel to Somerset and Devon. And the magical Brecon Beacons…well they were somewhere behind our house. And my Wife’s Choir tea party; could be a wet one I thought to myself.

Paperboys in this part of Wales are brave souls. Every day they stride up our cobblestone path with the nonchalance of someone who is inwardly praying that Wini is locked up somewhere indoors. Welsh Sheepdogs (and not Border Collies). Yes, Welsh Sheepdogs can be very pretty. And Wini is no disappointment in this respect. Tall and beautifully proportioned. Powerful but gifted with an Oxbridge intelligence. An intelligence which has determined that Paperboys….and of course Postmen are dangerous beings.

Well this morning she was locked away in the back of the house, consequently my copy of the Sunday Times was delivered safely with a cup of filter coffee.

And there on the front page….

‘Galloway to be suspended from the Commons over Iraq’.

Gosh what terrible news for ‘Gorgeous George’ I mused. The Times reported that the one month suspension from the Commons ‘is one of the most severe given to an MP’. Another month on the beach in Majorca. Tough I guess. Very tough.

And not only will he be suspended, but he may be asked to apologise for his behaviour; now that would take up some Parliamentary time, saving us all from further democratic control.

Oh and the other funny thing…..Ed Balls, the Schools Secretary.

‘Our task in the next decade is for our education system to become world class’.

Whatever happened to ‘Education. Educaton. Education.’ I pity the poor Head teachers out in Palestine. No doubt the next beneficiaries of the Blair Project.

I was sidetracked….sorry the making of a Legend.

I left my office in Newport just before six, contemplating the long drive back to our ‘new’ home in Monmouth. An old house high up on the Kymin overlooking the Wye Valley. A house in need of serious restoration.

Almost time for the six o’clock news on Radio 4, I thought to myself , and without any conscious effort I turned the car radio up a fraction. The weather had been atrocious for weeks and I feared that it was about to turn severe.

It was February 24th 1993.

Although the family had known for almost two years, since major intestinal surgery in April 1991, the news shook me.

I turned right when left would have taken me towards the motorway. Five minutes later I was back where I had started. And Bobby Moore was dead.

The news of Bobby Moore’s death stunned not only the world of soccer but the loss was felt by a whole generation. The generation that had lived through the Sixties.

Tributes to a Sporting Hero poured in from all over the World. Pele said, ‘he was my friend as well as the greatest defender I ever played against. The world has lost one of the greatest football players and an honourable gentleman.’ (Sir) Geoff Hurst said that ‘if the world had played Mars, he would have been man of the match.’

And Brian Clough…what a Legend.

Most people revere his career as a Manager with Derby County and Nottingham Forest….I have edited out the rest.

But Clough was also a truly great player.

Brian Clough was a prolific scorer for his hometown club Middlesbrough and after his debut as a centre forward in 1955 at the age of 20 he scored 204 goals in 222 appearances, and was capped twice for England against Wales and Sweden.

In 1959 he moved to Sunderland for £45,000 where he was equally impressive scoring 63 goals in 74 appearances.

Indeed he set a post war scoring record with 251 goals in 274 appearances during his time with the North East clubs. A knee injury sustained against Bury ended his playing career on Boxing Day 1962.


And George Best……now he was truly the best.

But the greatest of them all..... Jack Howarth.

January 16th 1967, Aldershot 1 Reading 0, FA Cup 2nd Rd. A crowd of 16801 witnessed the greatest goal ever seen at the Rec. I’ve been asked many times why was it such a great goal? How was it scored? What was the build up?

I’m not going to say.

Because it is this unique personal feeling and imagery that makes the Legend. All of my senses gathered together in one simple event. It wasn’t just the crowd. The victory over Reading, the ‘old enemy’, the fact that Jack scored, the weather, the joy of the occasion. Legends are born when we all share the same feelings. But the real measure of Legend is that it grows stronger with time.

Bobby Moore is a greater player today than he ever was when he was alive. And George Best….forget the booze. Forget the women. No remember all of that. That was the emotion that engulfed George. An image stronger in my mind today than ever it was when he took the ball out of Gordon Bank’s hand and ‘scored’ at Windsor Park, Belfast.


Terry Brown, ex Manager Aldershot Town AFC….we all clapped and cheered when he made his final wave. At least I think we did.

If only life were so simple.

It seems hard to believe, but it is just about three months ago that we last played Kidderminster. On a chilly April evening not even the famous catering could bring cheer to the dismal proceedings. Yes, I'm sure the hardy few who took time out to travel prayed long and hard that night....'Not Martin Kuhl as manager, please Chairman'.

And in just four weeks time Kidderminster away. As one season closes so it seems the next begins, bringing with it the seamless transition from despair to optimism.

But each season, as I look around the North Stand I see so many familiar faces…..perhaps all showing signs of age, but somehow still no wiser. Fans sharing the one emotion that burns so bright…’this time next year we will be back in the Football League’. Fans all sharing the same feeling; the one that pulses through my veins with such an invigorating force.

And so, with the football season just around the corner, time for optimism. A much needed tonic after a couple of years of ineptitude both on and off the pitch.

Yes, the new season gives birth to optimism. It sweeps away the pessimism that comes with the evidence of fact.

Following the demise of (ex) Prime Minister Blair, I travelled down to London last week from my Cardiff office, at the rate of one Cabinet change to every 8 miles.


No, that was unkind. I’ll start again.


Following the appointment of Mr Blair to the role of Middle East Peace Envoy, Prime Minister Gordon Brown announced his new Cabinet last Thursday (June 28th 2007) at the rate of one Cabinet change to every 8 miles.


And I wonder if the excitement I felt about the appointment of Baroness Ashton of Upholland to the position of Leader of the Lords (Lord President of the Council) was shared by others?



Anyway, well done, whatever your real name is; how is it that Politicians deal with real improvements and real issues but can’t have a real name? Yes, the Baroness has done well, because as Constitutional Affairs Minister she had such a hard time over freedom of information rights, which for some offbeat reason the Government wanted to restrict.


Furthermore I’m sure Tony will be a great success, if he ever gets out to Palestine….such a shame he didn’t think about accepting the job before he sent the troops into Iraq.


That’s enough of the ‘real’ World, using political speak for just a moment, and more about Aldershot.


We moved to Wales just a few months after Aldershot FC played their last Football League match at Ninian Park Cardiff. Yes, it was in March 1992 that Aldershot FC became the first club since Accrington Stanley, in 1962, to fold during a Football League season…..


Leaving the suffocating grip of London and the south east for the beauty of the Wye Valley was not a difficult choice. After all when the Club reformed in the summer of that same year I wasn’t desperate to check how my diary clashed with the scheduled trips to Clapton, Horsham, Flackwell Heath, Royston, and Cove (despite Cove being my birthplace). No I was more than happy to simply enjoy the odd nostalgic trip to the Rec…. the burning obsession, so damaged by the events of 1991/92, would take a little bit longer to reappear.


From our house high up on the Kymin dawn appeared as if for the very first time. In the distance the shimmering Black Mountains - Sugar Loaf, Skirrid Fawr and Blorenge- and through the haze created by the weak early morning sun, just the faintest glimpse of the majestic Brecon Beacons.


And far below the dark and sequestered valley of the Wye.


Discovering the valley is special at any time of the year - pretty and fresh in spring, green and leafy in summer, ablaze with red, yellows, purples and gold in autumn, haunting and cold in winter.


Natural beauty is not the valley’s only memorable attraction. Tintern Abbey, established by the Cistercian monks in the 12th Century is glorious in its setting. Perhaps the most serene and faithfully preserved ruins in Britain. And hidden away among the trees, traces of the valley’s industrial heritage.


At the southern end of the Wye, mighty Chepstow Castle overlooks the river, guarding the important crossing. The Normans started to build this in 1067, their first stone castle in Wales, as a stronghold for William the Conqueror’s conquest of south east Wales.


Despite having moved much further west it is still here, at the Severn, that my journey home always begins.


M4 East, London…..M4 West, Newport and Cardiff.


M4 Tolls, westbound only…£5.10 since January 2007 or for me, more than £150 a season. William’s original business plan to suppress the Welsh replaced in the year of World Cup Final glory over West Germany, by the Severn Bridge ‘Sharks’.


Shortly after the opening of the Severn Bridge, in September 1966 Harri Webb wrote an Ode on the Severn Bridge:


Two lands at last connected
Across the waters wide,
And all the tolls collected
On the English side.

Originally, tolls were charged in both directions, but the arrangements were changed in the early 1990s to eliminate the need for a set of toll booths for each direction of travel and the potential for traffic waiting to pay the toll backing up onto the bridge itself.


And then with the construction of the Second Severn Crossing devolution drew a step closer; toll booths were established on the Welsh side of the bridge.


And so back into England and the long drive up to London.


I gave just a cursory look left at the Reading ‘exit’. It seems that every club in the land wants to build a new stadium…..the Madejski at Reading no different to the Liberty in Swansea. The Stadium of Light no different to the City of Manchester Stadium.

But Elm Park, the Vetch Field, Roker Park and Maine Road; now they were proper grounds. And how splendid the ramshackled collection of stands at Layer Road, Colchester….the club’s evolution dated by the sporadic addition of a new stand.


So there I was, en-route to the RIBA with my thoughts turning to design v function and Archibald Leitch, whose legacy on death in 1939 included Anfield, Ayresome Park, Celtic Park and Roker Park.


And by 8.30pm I was in my Brother’s local, a pint of Adnams in hand……‘The Lads’....our ritual completed with the clink of glass on glass.


Pre-season training was under way at last.

Aldershot Town FC

Welcome to my thoughts on Aldershot Town FC…..and more.

Pre-Season Training


'Hi there Aled. Good trip. Did you travel down from Anglesey this morning?' I enquired as we made our way through the terminal building at Heathrow. We had met just the once before; a short planning meeting held in the depth of mid-Wales. But I could feel we were both thinking the same thing…..'Kuwait was a long way to go to give some lectures to the Ministry of Sport.'

Check-in, baggage security checks, body search, more checks, more searches. 'Certainly no risks were being taken here.' I kept the thought to myself.

'Exits left. Right.' The Flight attendant was in full flow. 'Oxygen above', with just a hint of body armour under the blouse.

The plane quickly climbed into the clear blue sky, leaving London far behind. At 35,000 feet above Paris, and with my hearing restored, I turned to Aled. 'You like soccer then. So Rugby isn't your religion. What team do you support?' It's bound to be Bangor City, I thought to myself. European Cup Winners Cup against Roma. 'Sorry Aled, who did you say? Wolves? 'Yes, Wolverhampton Wanderers, came the reply without the faintest hint of a Brummie accent.

'Mmmm….and your best memory?' Aled's features lit up with the brilliance of the Molyneux floodlights. 'The European nights. Stan Cullis. Billy Wright. Great adventures.' 'Yes, I'm sure the ground must have rocked with the excitement and passion that Real Madrid and Dynamo Moscow generated.' I was so reassuring with my agreement.

'And your worst memory?' 'Oh easy.' Aled's response was instant and the recall clearly vivid. '1987, the 4th Division play-off final. We had beaten Aldershot at home and away in the League…finishing nine points clear of them at the end of the season. Then quite unbelievably we lost two nil away and one nil at Molyneux. It was desperate….so disappointing.
So what team do you support?

I smiled and settled back into my seat. Kuwait was a pleasantly long flight!

It's nearly 46 years ago that I saw my first game at the Recreation Ground, Aldershot.

November 4th 1961, Tunbridge Wells FA Cup 1st Rd. A very young boy watching from behind the goal at the High Street end, with his Dad. Two goals from Paddy Hasty and one from George Norris were enough to see the Shots win 3v1 in brilliant sunshine after rain.

And as I prepare to start pre-season training with a look back through my programme collection, the memories return. And the next highlight. The Villa 63/4, of course. Aldershot, the first team outside of the top flight to knock Aston Villa out of the Cup.

So with that; pre-season training should start soon..............