The scene: a rain soaked long-forgotten corner of deepest, darkest Tunstall, the cause: as good as it gets, Frankie’s Fight; a local 3 year old undergoing gruelling treatment for Leukaemia.
The challenge was set when former Brownhills Staff F.C stalwart, lynchpin, Captain, Player, Manager and down-right, thoroughly, all-round good egg, Stocko, was surprisingly given a free transfer in July. Too good for the scrapheap, he would not be a free agent for long as his leadership potential was quickly spotted and he was snapped up by the tiny, tin-pot club which has stood in the BHSSFC’s shadows for too long, and in true Hollywood style (think Adam Sandler’s “Waterboy” but slightly more backward and with less sporting talent), with a plan which would fly in the face of adversity , with ingenuity even the A -Team would be proud of, and without an oxy-acetylene torch in sight, something magical was about to happen…
Using every inch of his footballing nous and experience Stocko set about his most difficult task yet, building a team from scratch and by attempting to fashion a rag-tag bunch of directionless amateurs into a lean, mean, winning machine. Some believed that this was a task of such monumental proportions it would need a hero, a giant amongst men to accomplish this. So, with odds stacked against him, the like of which had not been seen since a plucky 7 year old Galilean called David took on a giant called Goliath armed only with a catapult, a Herculean task was undertaken and, installing himself as captain, there was only one man with a colossal enough ego for this job. That man was Stocko.
Firstly, a grizzled veteran of cinder pitches the length and breadth of Stanfields ,“Cell-Block H” was uncovered hiding in the darkness of the PE cupboard listening to Shakin’ Stevens records and muttering about how long he had been retired and rambling about how he knows a league footballer. Our hero captain encouraged Steve to dispense with his ridiculously tight, monogrammed, trackie-bottoms and return to the football field for one final throw of the dice and to try to re-live past glories…
Next, Jason, a deluded dwarf, who’s only magic trick is to be able to conjure up men in a puff of smoke to buy him a drink in Pink nightclub, who thought he was a “number 10” was successfully converted to a left-back and, in a stroke of serendipity, the precocious but underused talent of Rickyyy! was rescued from eternal slavery by Stocko who had to use his delicate sword of justice to fight a valiant battle to rescue Ricky from his giant guard, Juggernaut Jones and liberate them both from the tyrannical clutches of an evil dragon (with hair like Grotbags the witch) known as “Half-pint Helen“ . With the Juggernaut spared he vowed to be loyal to the Skipper and was swiftly installed at centre half and the wide-eyed, frightened little boy, Ricky, was released from his bondage (that means being tied up Ricky, like your tracksuit and which he probably enjoyed) of being wasted at left back and, in a managerial masterstroke worthy of Brian Clough or Jimmy Savile, groomed into being a number 10, a “fantasista” (as the Italians call them) who would be key if there was to be any chance of victory, with a left foot like a wand. (Or do I just mean what he is?)
That night, around a camp fire (and the camp Jase), whilst Ricky and Jason feasted upon sock ends, tall stories were told to lull the boys to sleep. The Juggernaut told the legend of a old wizard, who was fabled to be the record goal-scorer in all of Tunstall (in 1988 in the "Jumpers for goal posts" Premier division!). So the ever growing, motley crew set off to find the wizard… …The wonderful Wizard of Snozz.
Upon finding the Wizard’s dilapidated lair, in a place where cousins marry and there is no electricity or running water; “The Land That Time Forgot” (or Alsager as it is more commonly know) they had to answer banal questions from his bizarre, wizened, old house-keeper, named Shirl, before they were allowed an audience with the grand wizard. After 20 minutes of her boring stories she fell asleep allowing the band to pass (something that most of them never do in a game!). Upon meeting the wizard it was clear why he was called the Wizard of Snozz, because unlike most wizards, who have pointed hats, this one has an even more pointed nose! The wizard told of his goal-scoring and speed spells and his was quickly recruited along with his simple but faithful pageboy, Jim-Bob, and both were brought on the quest. Although it was another mouth to feed Jim insisted he would be useful. Let’s face it you can never be sure when you need someone to stand still and wave a flag!
The Wizard of Snozz told of the castle of Belgrave and its strange inhabitants, who would surely be willing to aid us in our quest to field a team. Here we found Loz, a strange, hairy, creature that doesn’t drink the magic potion; Foot Locker, a mercurial but enigmatic talent with only one foot but who walks using a prosthetic right foot made from chocolate and; Mikey, an Alice band wearing speed demon who’s long hair conceals a secret, a thumb print on the back of his head; Tombola, a lumbering beast of a man who speaks in growls; and the high-priest of Belgrave castle, Brizzo. They told us of their banished colleague, Mark the Warlock, who was willing to join in case Stocko’s wearying legs gave out after all the travelling of this quest.
Our quest led us to seek the final piece of the jigsaw, a Goalie who resides in the mythical land known as “the Nursery”, a jungle inhabited solely by females, bar for the mysterious man known as “The Doctor”, the one handed gate-keeper of giant, magic spheres and groundskeeper for the lady gardens. We quickly realised we had found our man if he can focus solely on the job when so surrounded by beautiful distractions. Jase said he found this easy too until all the blokes started arriving.
Now, with the merry band complete we can now begin the real fairy story (no, Jase not that one about you and the blokes in the toilet again). The Match Report!
After weeks of team bonding sessions (that doesn’t mean being tied up this time Ricky!) and hard work on the training field JBBSFC believed they were ready for the challenge. Their confidence lasted about 5 seconds when a wind assisted punt up field caused chaos. Brownhills Stoke-like tactics were repeated over and again and JBBS defence had to deal with a barrage of long balls being lumped aimlessly, which Stocko desperately tried to clear all of into the car-park even if there was no-one near him. Eventually one of these boring long-balls came out of orbit and eventually was met by their Kenwyne Jones, Stevelyn, who despite looking offside,(that’s when you should be waving your flag Jim-Bob!!!!!) tucked it into the net past the advancing Fourth Doctor.
JBBS tried to get their passing game going but Brownhills, the annoying, waspish, poison dwarf that is Little Frank in particular, resorted to dirty, underhand, tactics, by consistently fouling our little magician, Ricky. This caused him to say a naughty word to the referee but luckily Ricky’s “Michael Jackson”-like voice is so soft and quiet that no-one heard although he spent the next 20 minutes apologising. Ricky was still saying sorry when a great chance came his way when Stocko passed to Loz, who passed it to the War Horse Steve, who played a defence splitting pass for Mikey to run on to. He whipped a great low cross a cross the face and with the empty net beckoning, Ricky spooned it wide. This was unforgivable.
To counter-act their gameplan of trying to boot it forward and three men running at Stocko to flick it on, the Skipper made a brilliant tactical masterstroke, he brought himself off. And he substituted himself.
Now, with Brownhills’ only tactic nullified, JBBS went in search of an equaliser which duly came when Cell Block found Thomo who passed inside to Loz, who was now upfront, to confidently square the game.
Thomo, unfortunately, seemed have the lead shoes on he wears when he is driving. Although these mean his accelerator is consistently pushed down to the floor they do adversely affect his running speed. Either that or the advancing years have robbed him of his fabled pace or his spells aren’t working! He couldn’t even get past Paddy, so Stocko replaced him before Golden Graham could kick Thomo again and pushed Rowley-poly, who was having a blinder, forward.
A complete chipped fluke from Mike Hunt put BHSFC in to an undeserved lead 2-1 when our keeper was caught off his line. Well he was probably on it but then he is only 5’6” like Jason. Mike Hunt seemed to repeat his ridiculous “dropping on the floor playing dead” celebration a few minutes later when with no one around him he missed the ball which rolled into touch and fell flat on his face in the highlight of the match. At least that what it looked like he was doing!
If an example of the dirty tricks campaign by BHSFC was needed, and even after shrugging off the pantomime villain style boos from the crowd, perennial substitute Iddy elbowed Stocko. Luckily Iddy is so short and puny it only hit the courageous captain’s hip.
A fantastic team talk by a rejuvenated Cell Block, who regaled us with his fantastic “War Stories” about getting teenage girls drunk in his youth, going to the Crafty Cockney and these galvanised JBBSFC into action.
The second half was a different story. Playing with the wind, (seems like the team had too many spicy nibbles at lunch on the training day!) the balance of power swung.
JBBS equalised when a deep free-kick from Steve was not dealt with and it was played outwide to to Mikey who's cross was eventually scrambled to Ricky, who this time made no mistake to make it 2-2.
A “number 2” performance from the number 2 was capped when Stocko’s Polo mint left foot, a foot with more holes than a tennis racquet, allowed an easy ball to travel out into touch. He blamed the Velcro like surface and a bad choice of footwear. This correspondent can reveal that the captain was already carrying an injury caused when he jarred his knee, damaged his ankle and already injured thigh by falling off his stiletto heels. Next time he will wear his trainers instead. And in the game.
This meant he could concentrate on the tactical side of the game and control the substitutions and although strugling to influence the game physically the wily old dog still had a few tricks to play from the sidelines as player/manager/linesman.
Now with the tactics sorted JBBS could start playing their unique brand of Champagne football, with nutmegs a-plenty and no little guile and finesse. Neat football from the midfield led to Jase finding Mikey (again) who scored to make it 3-2 and put the away side firmly in the driving seat. We were so comfortable Jase noticed that the teenage girls on the sidelines commented that our side was better looking. This was probably intented as another dirty trick to put him off but, little did they know, with Jase's "previous" that would only happen if the boys had said it!
The fourth was absolutely calamitous and when their ringer keeper (come on Brownhills, if you are going to do something we would never do like bring in a ringer keeper and cheat then at least use your brain and try to find one that didn’t attend Belgrave!) charged out of his goal, Foot Locker rounded him, stopped, rounded another man, stopped ,checked onto his chocolate foot, went round another, stopped, and another, did a ”James Brown” and got [the ball] “on the good foot” and, despite looking like he was desperate to miss on four occasions ,managed to run it over the line. It is reported that Nick carried on running and was later found half a mile up the road in Asda, with his missus, pushing a trolley full of shopping, with the ball still at his feet.
This stung Brownhills into action and in a desperate measure they unleashed their secret (or is that complete) weapon Golden Graham up front. He managed to finish neatly from a tight angle.
With time ticking, and in a bid to avoid “squeaky bum time” Ricky was felled for the umpteenth time and, after a 10 minute delay whilst the Ref cleaned his glasses and woke up, he gave the Penalty which was dispatched calmly (he says in Cantona fashion). This was selfish and denied the Captain a goal-scoring return to his former stamping ground which would have really rubbed his ex-team-mates noses in it. Still the 5-3 final score goes some way to achieving that feat.
Most importantly, it was a cracking game, enjoyed by the many spectators who braved the 1st half monsoon, attended by Lee Hughes who we didn't have to get to come on as emergency sub, raised money for little Frankie, was played in a terrific spirit by two great sets of pure, honest footballers. And Brownhills.
The victory was as sweet to all at John Baskeyfield & Belgrave as Graham’s usual, extra mild, Korma, which he was too tight to buy!
MOTM: Following Deb’s suggestion that one of our number “played for the other team” we picked Jase, who (you’ll know if you were out last week) does indeed. Kudos for drinking his MOTM awards so quickly and in doing so outdrinking both "Two pint Thomo" and "half-pint Helen" by inbibing their entire night's alcohol consumption in 30 seconds flat.
Honourable mentions must go to ”Shakin’” Steven’s after-match “double denim” look not seen since “This Ole House” was in the charts in 1981, when Steve was only 43! It was so dated a look that Jayne tried to take his shirt off. Unless she’s got a shirt taking off fetish, which she has got “previous” for!
Spare a thought for Tom "Dr Who" who whilst we were all getting plastered was up the North Staffs getting plastered, literally, after injuring his hand. I have been assured by his mum it happened in our game and the one that he played after.Which brings me on to...
Happy 94th Birthday Janice! Great dancing!
And in closing, thanks very much to all that attended and helped to orgnise the game, supported this most worthy cause, came for a pint and a curry afterwards (told you they’d do us the deal!). And if (shamefully) you didn’t attend, then this correspondent can assure this is an entirely accurate account of events.
Oh and Jase and Ricky I know it was you that cut the ends off the Captain's socks. You will be disciplined appropriately. Which I'm sure you'll both enjoy.
