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IHAVE, along with pretty much everyone else who watches Premier League football on TV these days, become accustomed to seeing these matches played on pristine green, immaculate pitches.
However, I was watching a Premier League match recently which featured Tottenham and Manchester City and was appalled by the state of the Wembley pitch. The day before this game, the stadium had been used for an American football match, and all the markings associated with that sport were clearly visible on the screen as well as all the rutted marks in the grass surface.
Wembley, as far back as I can remember, was always known as the ‘hallowed turf’. It seemed, back then, that only special teams and players got the chance to parade their skills on the lush, green surface. Nowadays the pitches at the Netham or the Bristol Downs look more inviting than Wembley: the home of American football, rugby league, pop concerts and sometimes our national sport - football!
I think everybody who has played football, even at the basic level, would have played on some really poor surfaces over the years. I certainly have, and one of the more memorable incidents occurred just before bonfire night more than a decade ago. I was playing for Long Ashton Reserves, which was at such a low standard we rarely had an official referee allocated to take charge.
We arrived to play an away fixture against a team from the south of Bristol. Within minutes of arriving at the ground, we were informed the game would have to be postponed because some locals had built a bonfire right on the centre circle. Fortunately, both sets of players helped to remove all of the bonfire to the side of the pitch, so the game could go ahead. It ended up being a decent match; I think I set the game alight and scored with a rocket of a shot!
I mentioned in this column a couple of weeks back that I spotted a couple of familiar faces, notably Steve Tricky and Bob Garland, walking along the streets near Bedminster. I did give them a little bit of stick in the column, especially Steve. I stated he wasn’t the best of players and had an awful first touch, adding that he was a lifelong Bristol Rovers supporter. Well, I happened to run into both of them again last week, and Steve was not a happy chappy. I tried to explain that it was just a bit of light-hearted banter on my part and he wasn’t that bad of a footballer. He looked at me and said: “I’m not offended about what you wrote about my football ability, or lack of, it’s just that you said I support Rovers, when in fact I am a season ticket holder at Ashton Gate.” So, I am happy to put the record straight: Steve is a committed City supporter, who was not very good at football, and had the first touch of a skip driver!
On a more sombre note, Ted Chandler, the father of Ricky, a close friend of mine, sadly passed away last week after a long battle with illness. Rick and I were teammates starting way back during our school days, where we both lined up for Bristol Boys. Ted very often used to drive me and Rick to the matches, and I was forever poking Ted on the back of the shoulder on the way home from matches asking if he would stop in the chip shop.
Rick and I played for several other clubs as we progressed into adult football, which included Bath City, Gloucester City, Weston-superMare, Mangotsfield and Nailsea Town. A constant figure on the touchlines during those years was Ted. After Ricky’s playing days ended, Ted continued his support from the sidelines encouraging his grandson Joe throughout his football career. Ted was a true gentlemen, and he will be sadly missed by his wife, Molly, and all his family and many friends.