Dear WSC
If Chic Charnley (Reviews, WSC 281) had had a longer fuse, it’s a racing certainty that he’d have played for Scotland and, in all likelihood, have drawn the attentions of bigger clubs in Scotland and down south. But, in gaining a model pro, we’d have lost a character who inspired love and loathing in equal part (depending on whether he was playing for your club). For a fan Chic was a uniquely interactive experience – if you got on his back he’d react and, as his disciplinary record shows, on 17 occasions that reaction led to a red card. As a fan you knew it. He’d be looking at the crowd trying to pick out his tormentors and on a good day you’d get a gesture. What better motivation could there be.At McDiarmid Park in Perth, on New Year’s Day 1997 Chico had a particularly fine blow-up. With the St Johnstone fans full of New Year spirit (spirits?) the abuse directed at Chic was ripe. With the match at 1-1 the red mist descended, and he thumped one of his team-mates. What followed was one of the high points of the last 20 years for Saints fans – a 7-2 victory over the bitterest local rivals.Equally, when playing for Partick Thistle against Motherwell in 1994 or 1995, I recall the crowd focusing even more relentlessly on the man. My memory says that again he got wound up, launched a kung-fu tackle at an opponent and earned an early bath. I’m less certain of this though and would welcome confirmation that I twice played my part in taking Chico off the pitch, definitely my most significant footballing achievement. At a later date I met Chic in a Glasgow pub. He was holding court to a rapt audience of Celtic fans whose devotion to him was greater than to many of the club’s long-term players. They knew he was one of them and they knew he’d come within a whisker of fulfilling his/their dream of playing in the hoops. Down-to-earth, frank about his errors and damn funny, it’s a shame there aren’t more like him. But if there were, there’d be chaos.
Alistair Smith, Forest Hill
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Stories
While the professional north-east clubs are battling for mediocrity, two other sides from the region are flying the amateru flag, writes Michael Whalley
While Newcastle, Sunderland and Middlesbrough spent the season cheerlessly scrapping for 13th place in the Premier League, one area of North-East football has thrived: the amateur game. Professional success may have bypassed the region, but its two best pub teams have been almost invincible, dominating the FA Sunday Cup.
The words “Football League” must evoke painful memories for all concerned on a bleak afternoon in Cumbria, with the limelight just a fading memory for the hosts and the visitors struggling one year on, writes Harry Pearson
In the Borough Park clubhouse, a middle-aged woman in a yellow-and-black Boston United scarf leans across to a vast, elderly Pilgrims fan who is tucking into a polystyrene tray of pasty and chips like he hasn’t eaten since the end of rationing. “You been here before?” she asks. The man shakes his head, cheeks bulging with potatoes and pastry. The woman glances quickly from left to right. “Bit bleak, isn’t it?” she whispers. The big man grins sadly, nods and stuffs more food in his mouth.
Dear WSC
I drove my family to Cardiff for the Championship play-off final, although I wasn’t going to the match. As a gnarled veteran of 35 years of away trips and big games, I planned my campaign with meticulous detail, with five separate contingency routes. It goes without saying that I totally ignored the official travel suggestions, while I treated the soothing advice of my friends who are Cardiff residents with amused, patronising disdain. Travelling football fans are deprived of their human rights as martial law is imposed for the duration and I’m the only man who can save us. What I experienced was a masterclass in football event management. I dropped them off 400 yards from the stadium and drove back later to collect them. There were orderly queues with fans from both teams mingling. Publicans had got together to designate certain pubs for West Ham or Preston fans. Not a single window was boarded up. Food and drink were at reasonable prices. Local residents could finish their shopping and catch their trains. Travel routes were clearly signposted. Stewards asked people if they wanted help. On the radio on the way home, the delays to Wembley stadium were being airbrushed out of existence by the builder’s spokesperson. There were no problems, it would just take two months to “hand the project over” (surely, uh, it’s the stadium, yes, the one over there…). I’ve always been a staunch supporter of Wembley; football needs its own home, yes the old facilities were crud and the transport diabolical, but the atmosphere made it all worthwhile. Suddenly that’s just not enough. After Cardiff, the new Wembley has lot to live up to and I fear that too much time and energy has gone into seductive architecture at the expense of the simple things that enable football people to have a good time. Prove me wrong, or else take us back to Cardiff.
Alan Fisher, Tonbridge
Losing your social club can be disastrous for a semi-pro side. John Bourn reports on a fire that cost Spennymoor dear and plunged the Unibond League into crisis
Whoever discarded a cigarette end behind a fruit machine at the Brewery Field social club on Christmas Eve 2003 has a lot to answer for. They began a chain of events that were to wreck a long-established north-east club and left the Unibond League in chaos this spring.