Memories of childhood... & that ‘goal’

STAR: Lorimer later ran pubs

THEY call it hitting a worldy now. In my day, we just shouted “Lorimer” .

A thumping shot. In the garden, the street, at school.

Yet, the name also means the goal that wasn’t. The European Cup final in Paris in 1975 should have been Leeds’ crowning glory.

But Lorimer’s “winner” was ruled out after Bayern Munich captain Franz Beckenbauer harangued the referee and linesman. Billy Bremner was said to be offside. He wasn’t.

Leeds fell apart, Bayern scored two goals, the fans rioted.

In my little street in Leeds, a nearly nine-year-old me realised this life business was tougher than I thought. I was in bed by the time the second goal went in, heartbroken. Up the street, Martin, even younger, had already been despatched to his room for swearing.

Across the street, Mrs Flynn had prepared a chocolate cake and the plan was to start on it when Leeds scored. Lorimer hit the net, Mrs

Flynn headed for the kitchen... by the time she got back, no need for cake.

The Clarkes, the Purdys, the Harkers, the Barneses... same stories. Desolation in my street.

Around 40 years later I found myself stood next to Peter in a Leeds pub. I wanted to tell him about Martin and Mrs Flynn and our street. How much it all meant. A memory of growing up and the people I knew. But instead we talked for a few moments about the merits of Taylor’s Bitter as opposed to Taylor’s Landlord.

Maybe because he just seemed like a nice, ordinary, bloke who wanted to chat about beer.

Albeit an ordinary bloke who, if there had been any justice at all, had once scored the winning goal in a European Cup final.

I could hold him up as a shining example of football

excellence