by Jim Read
DB Publishing, £14.99
Reviewed by Al Needham
From WSC 307 September 2012
By all accounts, and even by the standards of the pre-AIDS gay subculture of the early 1980s, Nottingham's La Chic: Part Two was a hell of a club. According to an article in Notts magazine LeftLion: "On a typical night, you might find Su Pollard whooping it up to the latest American imports, while a regal Noelle Gordon wafted around, flanked by stage-door johnnies. You could even avail yourself of the services of a resident chaplain, after you'd made use of the pitch-black sex room."
The most shocking aspect of the club, however, was that for over two years, it was patronised by one of the country's best-known young footballers – and it never crossed anyone's mind to tell the newspapers about it.
Justin Fashanu's life would have been a seething melange of contradiction even if he'd had the sexual tastes of George Best. Fashanu was a black child raised in a staunchly white community, a born-again Christian (converted in a Nottingham car showroom) in a country that saw that sort of thing as a bit American and odd, and a teetotaller at a workplace where everyone from the boss down went out and got battered. So discovering that he actually preferred other men to the fiancée he'd brought up from Norwich reads like just another contradiction to add to the pile.
As this meticulously researched book spells out, Fashanu was (and is) impossible to pigeonhole. For starters, like his brother, he wasn't afraid to put himself about, and there's a great story of him confronting a group of National Front supporters in a pub and breaking the jaw of one of them.
On the other hand, if you're looking for a stoic sexual-equality pioneer, he wasn't your man, displaying an arrogant sense of entitlement that put noses severely out of joint, making up affairs with Julie Goodyear and Tory MP Steven Milligan, and using his sexuality to cash in whenever possible.
Crucially, the author could have laid on accusations of institutionalised homophobia with a trowel, but – while making it clear that things are much better now than then – he also points out that the majority of Fashanu's peers didn't give a toss who he was shagging, as long as he was playing well. The book also gets as near to the truth of the circumstances surrounding Fashanu's rape charge in the United States and subsequent suicide in London as readers are ever likely to get.
After you've read this extraordinary story – and you should – you can't help wondering what a 20-year-old Justin Fashanu would be like today. He wouldn't be the only non-boozer or born-again Christian in the dressing room, he'd be allowed to be as petulant as he liked, and a Twitter feed, invitations to celebrity game shows and Hello and OK sniffing round his house would sate his need for publicity.
But you can't shake the feeling that there would still be an agent in his ear putting a monetary value on keeping his mouth shut and his trousers on, and a forest of arms brandishing iPhones greeting him outside NG1, Nottingham's barn-sized gay club. We like to think that, as a society, we're ready for the next openly gay footballer, but this book spells out exactly why we've been waiting so long since the last one.
The story of a football legend
by Mike Smith
Grosvenor House, £11.99
Reviewed by Alan Tomlinson
From WSC 306 August 2012
Until 2004, when Arsenal's "Invincibles" went unbeaten through a full Premier League season, Burnley held the record for the longest undefeated run in a single season of England's top tier. This small-town Lancashire club avoided defeat for 30 successive League games, going on to take their first championship in 1921. At the heart of this achievement was a gritty, combative Yorkshire-born midfield dynamo of Irish Catholic parentage, Tommy Boyle.
Mike Smith's compellingly related and minutely researched biography of Boyle makes some of Burnley's championship-winning heroes of 1960 look like pampered softies alongside this tough player, who dominated Burnley's fortunes either side of the Great War. Boyle was a mere 5ft 7in but dominated the teams he led with a physical and psychological presence that willed his team-mates to victory. He cajoled, bullied and consistently inspired the players at Burnley, and before that at Barnsley, to the highest levels of competitive performance.
Boyle worked as a miner from the ages of 12 to 20, before signing professional terms for Barnsley. He took them to an FA Cup final against Newcastle, before a move to Burnley, who he led to Cup and League success. He was wounded in service in France, called back into action, then resumed the captaincy at Burnley, where eight of the 1914 Cup-winning team reunited for the 1920-21 triumph. For a time, Boyle had it all: the adulation of the "lasses" of the Lancashire mill-town (one of whom he married), money way beyond the reach of working men, the status of the local hero, acceptance and patronage of the local elite.
But the peak of 1921 was achieved in a climate of post-war industrial decline, and as his ageing body became less able to cope with the wear and tear of the top-flight game, his world fell apart. Fiery and brief spells as a trainer at Wrexham and then in Berlin were followed by the collapse of his marriage (after the tragic loss of an only child), unemployment and drink-fuelled aggression and violence. Boyle was committed to the local asylum under the new Mental Health Act of 1930, where he died after almost eight years of incarceration, aged 53.
This is a tragic story told well and with much revealing detail. Smith draws on an impressive range of sources in conveying this connection between the life of a community and the decline of one of its local heroes. The attribution of thoughts and reflections to Boyle is not always convincing, and some parts of the narrative are, as Smith concedes in a disclaimer, based on anecdote and the author's imagination.
It is a long read, with match reports and lists of names that can jar the narrative flow. But Smith is to be congratulated for bringing alive a figure so typical of the fluctuating fortunes of early professional footballers, for whom the problems of adjustment after the glories of playing days so often proved insurmountable. Boyle's story is no mere historical curiosity; reading this haunting tale, I was repeatedly reminded of Paul Gascoigne's life after the magic was gone.
The Albert Johanneson story
by Paul Harrison
Reviewed by Ashley Clark
From WSC 306 August 2012
Paul Harrison's The Black Flash attempts, through a combination of autobiography, oral history and the author's own observation, to unspool the tragic tale of Albert Johanneson. The South African-born Leeds United forward endured racism on and off the field, became the first black footballer to play in an FA Cup final (in 1965), and eventually succumbed to alcoholism and an early death in 1995.
The meat of this frequently depressing but compelling book is comprised of large chunks of unexpurgated testimony from Johanneson, framed by explanatory passages from Harrison. It is at its best when its subject's voice is at the forefront.
Johanneson, looking back on his life following the collapse of his career, paints a vividly evocative picture of his youth in a divided South Africa, where racist violence was commonplace and police were viewed as little more than "paid killers".
Johanneson was scouted and offered the opportunity to play in England but as soon as he stepped off the plane he was branded a "nigger" by a passerby at London Airport. Though team-mates Billy Bremner and Grenville Hair looked out for him, and he found a friend in fellow black South African Gerry Francis, the impression is of a lonely, shy soul thrown to the wolves.
It is harrowing to read about the constant abuse Johanneson received. It is not difficult to imagine how the deep psychological scars from this continued mistreatment might have contributed to his eventual fate.
Though Harrison is clearly reluctant to demonise his Leeds heroes – including Don Revie, who comes across as a cold bully – The Black Flash paints a grim picture of a wider footballing community who hadn't the first idea how to engage seriously with the pressures faced by Johanneson.
Sadly, the book is beset by structural problems. Harrison is inclined to interject with his own largely irrelevant opinions on the state of modern football and subjects such as political correctness. Key elements of Johanneson's experience (his marriage, divorce, descent into alcoholism and early death) are sprinted through in a matter of mere pages toward the book's conclusion.
Though obtaining information must have been difficult – Johanneson was essentially a homeless drunk by the time of his death – and the man's wishes not to discuss his family should be respected, the book feels as though it is missing a sizeable, vital element.
There is also a conspicuous lack of attention to detail. In one particularly flagrant case, a significant passage of Johanneson's testimony is repeated twice within the space of 16 pages. The Black Flash feels like it has missed out on a final edit.
Despite its flaws, the books is a worthwhile, instructive and often shocking read, especially in the context of a challenging year for football, when racism has once again made headlines. Harrison's decency and commitment shine through in a tale that adds flesh to the bones of the story of a key figure in British football history – a man who slipped through the cracks, but helped to pave the way for future black footballers.
by Matt Le Tissier
by Writers Name
Harper Sport, £18.99
Reviewed by Tim Springett
From WSC 279 May 2010
In keeping with his career, Matt Le Tissier’s autobiography is an interesting read but doesn’t truly satisfy. One reason for this is that both the front and back covers, as well as the internal layout,
by Paul Scholes
Simon & Schuster, £19.99
Reviewed by Paul Campbell
From WSC 299 January 2012
In the first sentence of his foreword to Paul Scholes's autobiography, Alex Ferguson calls the player dour. You can only assume Ferguson has read the book. The United manager doesn't publish his players' autobiographies, but if he did, they would all read like this – like a press release from MUTV. Scholes spends 300 pages telling us things we already know.
From Hitler Youth to FA Cup Legend
by Catrine Clay
Yellow Jersey, £16.99
Reviewed by Mike Ticher
From WSC 279 May 2010
Bert Trautmann was born in the worst possible year for a 20th century German, 1923. At ten he was eligible for the Hitler Youth just as the Nazis came to power. At 17 he was ready for war. Most of his contemporaries did not make it to 25, let alone quiet retirement in Spain.
by Dwight Yorke
Pan Books, £7.99
Reviewed by Damon Green
From WSC 280 June 2010
Tits. He's seen a few. Especially in the latter days of his career. Graeme Souness tried – he says – to break his leg during a five-a-side game. Roy Keane has the management skills of a psychopathic Mr Bean. And Peter Andre has no idea how close he came to being strangled to death.
by Viv Anderson with Lynton Guest
Right Recordings, £17.99
Reviewed by Al Needham
From WSC 280 June 2010
Viv Anderson, as we all know, was the first black player to turn out for the England first team so you’d expect his biography to be a tale of personal redemption and inner dignity in the face of the monkey-whoopers and banana-throwers – A Rangy Lope To Freedom, if you will.
The Chic Charnley Story
by Chic Charnley with Alex Gordon
Black & White, £14.99
Reviewed by Chris Fyfe
From WSC 281 July 2010
One match can define a player's career: Archie Gemmill's goal against the Netherlands; Diego Maradona's Hand of God; Eric Cantona's karate kick. It was Chic Charnley's acclaimed guest appearance for his beloved Celtic against Man Utd in Mark Hughes's 1994 testimonial that summed him up.
Fighting Like Beavers On The Front Line Of Football
by Chris Kamara
Harper Sport, £15.99
Reviewed by Barney Ronay
From WSC 283 September 2010
Mr Unbelievable is a mess. It is, structurally and tonally, a confused and uneven affair. It is without doubt unbelievable – an unbelievable dog's dinner. Having said that it isn't a particularly boring book, or at least not uniformly boring – open its pages anywhere and you find yourself assailed, bothered, nudged and jabbered at. Mr Unbelievable has one constant: the sound of uneasily giggling professional banter, the banter of a man who appears to be laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes, but who you feel might, at any moment, jab you in the eye and ask you what's so funny.