johnh

In 1963 I played for Yorkshire Amateur (based in Leeds). We were drawn at home in the first round of the old Amateur Cup against Eastwood Town. The game was postponed for eight consecutive weeks (there was a foot of snow on the pitch and it froze solid) and finally, the FA ordered us to play on a neutral ground. We played on Nottingham Forests ground, under lights, a novelty then. We won, and our 'prize' was an away game at Eastbourne in the next round! For those not good at geography, nearly a six hundred mile round trip. We drew and won the replay. We were then drawn away to Walthamstow Avenue in London in the last 16 but lost. Walthamstow were one of the top amateur teams at the time and had seven amateur internationals playing that day. Had a nice week-end in London though! That year there was no football played anywhere in England for several weeks.

Pat found a pen. He said to Mick 'is this yours'. Mick took the pen and wrote on a piece of paper, then said 'yes its mine'. Pat said 'how do you know its yours?' Mick said 'its my handwriting'.

Pat found a pen. He said to Mick 'is this yours'. Mick took the pen and wrote on a piece of paper, then said 'yes its mine'. Pat said 'how do you know its yours?' Mick said 'its my handwriting'.

Mike
I can relate to your feelings regarding the part that Toffeetalk played in giving you strength. I have a heart problem (not drastically serious) but had a bad spell for two months during last summer. I am active on two sites, including this one, and even though I was pretty low, the involvement in the sites picked me up no end. I know that everyone on this site, whether they know you or not, are with you all the way. I do know a few people who have had similar problems to yourself and they have all come through it OK. Wishing you all the best and confident that you can beat this.
Very best regards
 
John

ManU once the Goliath of English football, then David came along.

There were about ten in our gang, aged between ten and fifteen. It was decided that we would have a day out. Sunday was the best day and Formby was selected for the destination. I was ten and my brother eleven and our parents were not keen on us going but finally relented. We packed a rucksack with sandwiches and a bottle of ice cream soda and set off. Bus to Orrell Park station, then the electric train to Formby. A long walk to the pine tree woods and sand dunes. We spent a lot of time in the sand dunes playing army type games, then someone suggested going out to the sea to see if we could catch some crabs. The sea was quite a way out and we walked some three or four hundred yards to get there. It was quite shallow and warm and there was lots to keep us interested. After about half an hour we heard some shouting and we saw two men waving for us to come back. We then saw that we had been cut-off by the tide. We raced to the edge of the water and saw that we were about 20 yards from safety. The older boys told us all to link arms with the youngest in the middle and we set off through the water. The current was very strong and the water was waist deep. I remember trying to get a grip in the sand with my toes but the water just took the sand away. I couldn't swim and was nervous of water and was not happy with the situation. (I even get a cold sweat now when I think about it). Fortunately, we made it to safety and the two men gave us a lecture on the dangers of the tides.
We had to dry our clothes which fortunately didn't take too long as it was a very hot day. We had our sandwiches and pop and then one of the older boys said he knew a spot in the woods where the army trained, so we followed him. It was in a valley about 100 yards long. At one end there were target areas made out of logs and at the other end a sand bank where the soldiers fired from. The lad who took us there instructed us to dig in the sand in the bank. After about ten minutes we had uncovered about eight or ten rounds of live .303 ammunition. (These were used in the rifles of the day and also Bren guns.) The lad told us that he had six rounds hidden at home which he had found on a previous visit. He suggested that we return home and he would get a hacksaw to get all the gunpowder from the rounds and make a bomb. Everyone thought that this was a great idea.
When we got back to Liverpool we congregated at the brick air-raid shelter which was at the junction of Scarisbrick Road and Jerningham Road. The lad went away and came back with a hacksaw, all the .303 rounds, a tobacco tin, a length of tape (the fuse) and some matches. After a while, all the rounds had been cut open and the powder put in the tobacco tin. A hole had been made in the tobacco tin and the tape (fuse) was fed through the hole. The tape was lit and we all ran for our lives. Nothing happened. This was tried several times with no success, then we ran out of matches. The older boys' tipped the powder down the nearest drain and disappointed that we hadn't blown up half the neighbourhood we went home for tea. As we walked in the door Mum said 'did you have a nice day out' we just said 'yes'.
Some years ago when Mum was about eighty five I told her the true story of our 'nice day out' - but she didn't believe me!

ManU once the Goliath of English football, then David came along.

There were about ten in our gang, aged between ten and fifteen. It was decided that we would have a day out. Sunday was the best day and Formby was selected for the destination. I was ten and my brother eleven and our parents were not keen on us going but finally relented. We packed a rucksack with sandwiches and a bottle of ice cream soda and set off. Bus to Orrell Park station, then the electric train to Formby. A long walk to the pine tree woods and sand dunes. We spent a lot of time in the sand dunes playing army type games, then someone suggested going out to the sea to see if we could catch some crabs. The sea was quite a way out and we walked some three or four hundred yards to get there. It was quite shallow and warm and there was lots to keep us interested. After about half an hour we heard some shouting and we saw two men waving for us to come back. We then saw that we had been cut-off by the tide. We raced to the edge of the water and saw that we were about 20 yards from safety. The older boys told us all to link arms with the youngest in the middle and we set off through the water. The current was very strong and the water was waist deep. I remember trying to get a grip in the sand with my toes but the water just took the sand away. I couldn't swim and was nervous of water and was not happy with the situation. (I even get a cold sweat now when I think about it). Fortunately, we made it to safety and the two men gave us a lecture on the dangers of the tides.
We had to dry our clothes which fortunately didn't take too long as it was a very hot day. We had our sandwiches and pop and then one of the older boys said he knew a spot in the woods where the army trained, so we followed him. It was in a valley about 100 yards long. At one end there were target areas made out of logs and at the other end a sand bank where the soldiers fired from. The lad who took us there instructed us to dig in the sand in the bank. After about ten minutes we had uncovered about eight or ten rounds of live .303 ammunition. (These were used in the rifles of the day and also Bren guns.) The lad told us that he had six rounds hidden at home which he had found on a previous visit. He suggested that we return home and he would get a hacksaw to get all the gunpowder from the rounds and make a bomb. Everyone thought that this was a great idea.
When we got back to Liverpool we congregated at the brick air-raid shelter which was at the junction of Scarisbrick Road and Jerningham Road. The lad went away and came back with a hacksaw, all the .303 rounds, a tobacco tin, a length of tape (the fuse) and some matches. After a while, all the rounds had been cut open and the powder put in the tobacco tin. A hole had been made in the tobacco tin and the tape (fuse) was fed through the hole. The tape was lit and we all ran for our lives. Nothing happened. This was tried several times with no success, then we ran out of matches. The older boys' tipped the powder down the nearest drain and disappointed that we hadn't blown up half the neighbourhood we went home for tea. As we walked in the door Mum said 'did you have a nice day out' we just said 'yes'.
Some years ago when Mum was about eighty five I told her the true story of our 'nice day out' - but she didn't believe me!

ManU once the Goliath of English football, then David came along.

Mourinho, Martinez, Wenger, Rodgers and Moyes were in the pub. Mourinho got the first round, five Portuguese beers. Martinez got the second round, five San Miguels. Wenger got the third round, five red wines. Rodgers got the fouth round, four pints of bitter. Moyes said 'where's mine' Martinez said 'this is the fourth round and you're not in it'.

Blue 250 I played in the 1950's, 60's and early 70's. No one dived, if anyone had done even their own team mates (and the ref's) would have laughed at them.

Blue 250 I played in the 1950's, 60's and early 70's. No one dived, if anyone had done even their own team mates (and the ref's) would have laughed at them.

Blue 250 I played in the 1950's, 60's and early 70's. No one dived, if anyone had done even their own team mates (and the ref's) would have laughed at them.

Lukaku can trap the ball further than I can kick it.

Old guy went to his first football match for years. At the turnstile he was asked for £30 quid. 'I could get a woman for that' he protested. 'Aye' said the guy on the turnstile, 'but you wouldn't get 45 minutes each way and a pie and a pint in the middle'.

I was brought up during the war. There was no organised football during the war as all leagues were suspended for the duration. I was still football daft though, through playing in the street with an old tennis ball and the occasional game at school. We lived on Walton Hall Avenue in a cul-de-sac, almost opposite where Littlewoods Pools were, by the big girder bridge. Our cul-de-sac was our Wembley Stadium and we could always get enough lads to make two teams of five or six a side. One lad, Bernard Hogan, was a bit older than the rest and had seen some league games before the war. He was an Everton supporter and is the reason that my brother and I are Everton supporters to this day. Bernie Hogan had a photographic memory and he used to keep us spellbound with his commentary on the games he had seen. Almost kick for kick. He knew all the Everton greats and my hero became Dixie Dean, even though I had never seen him play, or even seen a photo of him.
One day, my dad took me and my brother to see an elderly gentleman. I have no idea to this day who he was. But he told us that he had been to the party which was held to celebrate Everton winning the FA Cup in 1933. He went to a drawer and got out an old stiff collar, the sort that was attached to a shirt with a collar stud. On the stiff collar were the autographs of all the Everton Cup winning team, including Dixie Dean. I remember holding the collar and touching Dixie Dean's autograph and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.
A few years ago, I keyed in 'Dixie Dean' to Wikipedia and the information provided included the fact that when he retired, Dixie Dean worked as a Porter at Littlewoods Pools on Walton Hall Avenue. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck again. Just to think, all the time I was kicking a tennis ball around our cul-de-sac, the great Dixie Dean was no more than a couple of hundred yards away!
Finally saw my first live football match, aged 10 in 1946.
 

I was brought up during the war. There was no organised football during the war as all leagues were suspended for the duration. I was still football daft though, through playing in the street with an old tennis ball and the occasional game at school. We lived on Walton Hall Avenue in a cul-de-sac, almost opposite where Littlewoods Pools were, by the big girder bridge. Our cul-de-sac was our Wembley Stadium and we could always get enough lads to make two teams of five or six a side. One lad, Bernard Hogan, was a bit older than the rest and had seen some league games before the war. He was an Everton supporter and is the reason that my brother and I are Everton supporters to this day. Bernie Hogan had a photographic memory and he used to keep us spellbound with his commentary on the games he had seen. Almost kick for kick. He knew all the Everton greats and my hero became Dixie Dean, even though I had never seen him play, or even seen a photo of him.
One day, my dad took me and my brother to see an elderly gentleman. I have no idea to this day who he was. But he told us that he had been to the party which was held to celebrate Everton winning the FA Cup in 1933. He went to a drawer and got out an old stiff collar, the sort that was attached to a shirt with a collar stud. On the stiff collar were the autographs of all the Everton Cup winning team, including Dixie Dean. I remember holding the collar and touching Dixie Dean's autograph and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.
A few years ago, I keyed in 'Dixie Dean' to Wikipedia and the information provided included the fact that when he retired, Dixie Dean worked as a Porter at Littlewoods Pools on Walton Hall Avenue. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck again. Just to think, all the time I was kicking a tennis ball around our cul-de-sac, the great Dixie Dean was no more than a couple of hundred yards away!
Finally saw my first live football match, aged 10 in 1946.
 

I was brought up during the war. There was no organised football during the war as all leagues were suspended for the duration. I was still football daft though, through playing in the street with an old tennis ball and the occasional game at school. We lived on Walton Hall Avenue in a cul-de-sac, almost opposite where Littlewoods Pools were, by the big girder bridge. Our cul-de-sac was our Wembley Stadium and we could always get enough lads to make two teams of five or six a side. One lad, Bernard Hogan, was a bit older than the rest and had seen some league games before the war. He was an Everton supporter and is the reason that my brother and I are Everton supporters to this day. Bernie Hogan had a photographic memory and he used to keep us spellbound with his commentary on the games he had seen. Almost kick for kick. He knew all the Everton greats and my hero became Dixie Dean, even though I had never seen him play, or even seen a photo of him.
One day, my dad took me and my brother to see an elderly gentleman. I have no idea to this day who he was. But he told us that he had been to the party which was held to celebrate Everton winning the FA Cup in 1933. He went to a drawer and got out an old stiff collar, the sort that was attached to a shirt with a collar stud. On the stiff collar were the autographs of all the Everton Cup winning team, including Dixie Dean. I remember holding the collar and touching Dixie Dean's autograph and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.
A few years ago, I keyed in 'Dixie Dean' to Wikipedia and the information provided included the fact that when he retired, Dixie Dean worked as a Porter at Littlewoods Pools on Walton Hall Avenue. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck again. Just to think, all the time I was kicking a tennis ball around our cul-de-sac, the great Dixie Dean was no more than a couple of hundred yards away!
Finally saw my first live football match, aged 10 in 1946.
 

I was brought up during the war. There was no organised football during the war as all leagues were suspended for the duration. I was still football daft though, through playing in the street with an old tennis ball and the occasional game at school. We lived on Walton Hall Avenue in a cul-de-sac, almost opposite where Littlewoods Pools were, by the big girder bridge. Our cul-de-sac was our Wembley Stadium and we could always get enough lads to make two teams of five or six a side. One lad, Bernard Hogan, was a bit older than the rest and had seen some league games before the war. He was an Everton supporter and is the reason that my brother and I are Everton supporters to this day. Bernie Hogan had a photographic memory and he used to keep us spellbound with his commentary on the games he had seen. Almost kick for kick. He knew all the Everton greats and my hero became Dixie Dean, even though I had never seen him play, or even seen a photo of him.
One day, my dad took me and my brother to see an elderly gentleman. I have no idea to this day who he was. But he told us that he had been to the party which was held to celebrate Everton winning the FA Cup in 1933. He went to a drawer and got out an old stiff collar, the sort that was attached to a shirt with a collar stud. On the stiff collar were the autographs of all the Everton Cup winning team, including Dixie Dean. I remember holding the collar and touching Dixie Dean's autograph and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.
A few years ago, I keyed in 'Dixie Dean' to Wikipedia and the information provided included the fact that when he retired, Dixie Dean worked as a Porter at Littlewoods Pools on Walton Hall Avenue. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck again. Just to think, all the time I was kicking a tennis ball around our cul-de-sac, the great Dixie Dean was no more than a couple of hundred yards away!
Finally saw my first live football match, aged 10 in 1946.
 

Lukaku can trap the ball further than I can kick it.

Lukaku can trap the ball further than I can kick it.

Old guy went to his first football match for years. At the turnstile he was asked for £30 quid. 'I could get a woman for that' he protested. 'Aye' said the guy on the turnstile, 'but you wouldn't get 45 minutes each way and a pie and a pint in the middle'.

I never have to use Wikipedia as the wife knows it all.

Spurs have had seven managers (not including caretaker managers) since 2000. Len Shackleton summed it up in his autobiography. He had a chapter called 'What the Average Director Knows About Football', it was followed by three blank pages. Levy needs to look in the mirror.

Spurs have had seven managers (not including caretaker managers) since 2000. Len Shackleton summed it up in his autobiography. He had a chapter called 'What the Average Director Knows About Football', it was followed by three blank pages. Levy needs to look in the mirror.