This
month has simply flown by. Returning to work after 2 weeks on
holiday, my deflated mood has been lifted by a book I was recommended
to read before my departure to sunnier climes. The book in question
is The Bromley Boys by Dave Roberts (Portico books) –
available through all good online bookstores (and Amazon).
It
is a story of a 15-year old boy's obsession for his local non-league
football team, Bromley Football Club, a club with a proud history who
in 1969/70 were enduring a season to forget.
I
was particularly keen to read the book because not only did I grow up
in that area but Bromley Football Club was also part of my life
during that period. From the book I have learned that Dave is
slightly older than me, we played football in the same local park,
but probably have never met.
It
was a wonderful trip down memory lane, a reminder of my forgotten
youth and some of the joys of living in the borough. It was
interesting to read that we both went to private schools – Dave
managed to get expelled from his because of his love
for Bromley Football Club –
How cool is that! Theft,
violence, vandalism, arson, insubordination I can understand the need
for such a drastic course of action but to be expelled for being
obsessed about a football club, and Bromley of all clubs, must have
been a first.
The
book documents the difficulty of being a fan of a non-league football
team at school in great detail. It is not easy living with the taunts
and jibes especially when you are at a rugby playing school and
everyone around you supports one of the big league teams.
I
wish I had thought of getting expelled in the same way because the
1969/70 season was a difficult time for me. I had just moved from
primary to a completely different (or should I say indifferent)
secondary school. All I wanted to do was play football, morning, noon
and night. I'd like to think that at the age of 11 I could run faster
with a ball at my feet than without it. I doubt that was true but at
that age there is nothing you believe you can't do.
My
new school didn't play football, they played rugby – I had been
sold out by my parents, a pill I found even harder to swallow when I
learned that I had been offered a scholarship to another school in
the area that not only played football but had a good reputation for
their cricket. From being a promising footballer at primary school I
found that because of my height (or lack of it) I was allocated to
the lowest tier for my ongoing rugby education, consigned to the
group of carthorses, shirkers and asthmatics. Fortunately my form
teacher recognised early on that there was little value to be gained
from adding my paltry weight to the scrum and I was allowed to play
in the backs where I at least had the opportunity of outrunning the
carthorses or belting the ball as far as I could before they
clattered into me.
In
the book Dave talks of his teenage crush on Una Stubbs. I was a bit
young to have a crush on anyone but I was very taken with Caroline
Munro whose image was being plastered on giant billboards across the
country in a series of posters for Lamb's Navy Rum. I seem to recall
KP nuts producing a marketing pack with photos of a series of
glamorous models on, I think she may have been one of them, but maybe
I am mistaken. There were 24 packs of peanuts on each display and as
each pack was sold it would reveal a bit more of the hidden
photograph. The nuts were always on display in the tea room at
Bromley and I made a point of checking to see how many packets had
been sold every time I went in for my mug of tea and iced bun.
There
is a section in the book about Dave's Christmas wish list which
reminded me of my own experiences. Unlike Dave who proudly sported
his supporters club badge on his blazer, I wanted my passage through
school to be as painless as possible so had already nailed my colours
to the mast as an Arsenal supporter (I chose to wear my Bromley pin
on the back of my lapel, which gave one kid a nasty surprise when he
tried to rough me up in the playground).
In
my last year at primary school a friend had been kind enough to lend
me his pair of George Best Stylo boots that had the laces at the
side. They were dog's doo-dahs and I really felt that they helped my
game so this was top of my wish list, along with the familiar red and
white Arsenal shirt.
Come
Christmas, what did I receive? A red and black striped shirt and a
pair of rugby boots! It was definitely not my year. My father told me
that I could play as AC Milan – but I didn't want to play as AC
Milan, I didn't even know where Milan was (geography was not one of
my subjects). As for the rugby boots, what was I to do with a pair of
ghastly, ill-fitting lumps of rubber with laces thicker than a
washing line. They were probably molded from old tyres, they
certainly smelt as if they had been. Part of the Christmas surprise
was not letting me know what my parents were buying me, which
explains why they didn't fit me properly.
My
limited understanding of the construction of a standard rugby boot is
that the high sides are supposed to give padded protection to the
ankle. From painful experience all I can attest to is that I lurched
around the field like Coco the clown, the high sides rubbing the skin
off my ankles which they were supposed to protect.
Thankfully,
my feet grew very quickly and it was not long before I had outgrown
these monstrosities. It took 7 more years for the rest of my body to
catch up, considerably less for my ankles to heal, but I was at least
given the opportunity to choose their replacement, a more sensible
pair of Pele Santos football boots.
I
never did get my Arsenal shirt, even though they went on to win the
double in 1971. Dave Roberts now lives in the States where he writes
his books and continues to follow the exploits of his beloved team
via the internet. Bromley FC have never achieved the successes that
they experienced in the 1940s and 50s, they remain a non-league side,
subjecting their supporters to a rollercoaster of emotions that no
theme park ride could ever capture.
I
never played regular competitive football after leaving school,
though I do still carry a pair of boots in my car in case a kick
around is in the offing.
A
film based on the book is in the planning which I am really looking
forward to. In the meantime I am still available should Roy Hodgson
wish to give me a call.
