C’Mon the Steelmen!

C’Mon the Steelmen! 

The hallowed ground of Occupation Road

A lifetime of following the fortunes of a nondescript non league football team, the occasional highs and the perpetual lows, decades of dreams and disasters, brilliance and rubbish. A roller coaster of emotions that will no doubt continue to engross hundreds of others till we shuttle off the mortal coil. 

As supporter Dale Campbell put it; “It's in our blood and always will be. You can run, escape for a bit, go in exile because you go in a huff - but we always return because we love our local club.”

Note, I said back there, hundreds. Not thousands. The Steelmen, Corby Town, like a million other minor football clubs, struggle along for eternity in attempting to entice the ‘armchair football fans’, the ‘glory hunters’, the ‘tourists’ attracted and attaching themselves to the global institutions of the Manchester Uniteds, the Liverpools, the Chelseas. And ok, at this point I have to hold my hands up - I too was once a ‘tourist’, following the Reds of Anfield. Discovering a whole new world of football almost by fate when aged 15, going to watch Leicester City play Liverpool at Filbert Street on the opening day of the 1965/66 football season. Liverpool, the F A Cup winners the previous May offered a nice alternative with the Steelmen, newly promoted to the Southern League Premier Division, playing their first game in the higher echelons of non league for the first time with an away day at Kings Lynn. No transport links, no way of getting to Norfolk by train, bus or car, an offer of a lift to Leicester from a friendly postman was gratefully accepted. So it was that along with future Steelmen goalkeeper Dick Dighton and our friend Nigel ‘Pop’ Portman, we experienced something that was life changing. Liverpool beat Leicester 3-1, the atmosphere and crack, the humour of the scousers was overwhelming. We agreed; we had to do this again! Pop was already a Man Utd fan and ironically, as this is supposed to be about the life and times of an avid Steelmen supporter, the following Wednesday, when Corby were playing the legendary non league team of Yeovil at home, we were all at the City Ground in Nottingham to see Forest play United! Thanks to Pop’s dad Arthur asking us if we would like to go! Well! But that’s another story…Forest beat United 4-2 by the way.

                                                                  1958

Football becoming an all consuming passion for kids in the 50s, the so called ‘Baby Boomers’, began with the hobby of collecting Bubble Gum Cards, sets comprising of 48 football teams, another of

football stars. There was also Charles Buchan’s Football Monthly, a magazine in which you had to save some of your pocket money to buy. Which could be a bit of a stretch. These opened your world up to the excitement of watching and playing the wonderful game of soccer. Other than these you would have to wait until Christmas and hope that an uncle would give you the ‘Football Champions Annual’ as a present. The only present that mattered! Never mind the jigsaw, the train set, the bike, ripping the gift paper off a football book was orgasmic! Of course if you were also lucky enough to get a football shirt off Santa, that was better still. And usually, whatever colour it was, they were always plain, replica shirts were light years away, they dictated what ‘Big’ team you would support. The first one I had was blue and white stripes. Amongst my collection of bubble gum cards, my favourite was Derek Kevan, the West Bromwich Albion and England centre forward. WBA then, became my team! Later, as children do, I swapped it for a blue one and became a Cardiff City supporter! Such are the whims of an eight year old.

Following the fortunes of your chosen ‘Big’ club was difficult, you never saw them! Unless they made it to the F.A.Cup Final. The only ‘live’ game shown on television. And long before ‘Match of the Day’. That and the ‘football pools’ a weekly lottery every dad in the country participated in, in the hope success would transport them from a life of run of the mill drudgery. Excitement would build on Saturday tea times with your dad writing down the scores read out by Australian sports reporter Len Martin from BBC’s teleprinter. ‘Stenhousemuir 3 Forfar Athletic 2’ might be greeted with a groan. ‘Damn, I had that for an away win!’ The weekly failure of the pools meant another week at the grindstone. 

Last but not least in this trip down memory lane there was the Saturday night ‘Pink Un’, a popular sports newspaper sold normally by teenagers riding around on their bicycles after dark with a bag full of them, bellowing ‘Pink Un! Football Results!’ Men would scurry into the street to try and catch him before he disappeared around the corner. 

Larry Wealthall, Corby goalkeeper in the early 60s was one of those teenagers; “I sold the ‘Pink Un‘ for McBryan’s on Rockingham Road for sixpence a dozen. It was very profitable while price was twopence ha’penny, because I never had change for a threepenny bit! The next season price increased to three pence so I gave it up.”

Besides the day’s Football League and Scottish League results, the ‘Pink Un’ also gave a weekly rundown of the fortunes and match reports of all the local amateur clubs, recalled by Graham Henderson, Steelman exile in Australia; “It was amazing how they got all those match results and reports in such a short space of time. Remember us often saying ‘that takes the biscuit’. We were also pissed off if the ‘Pink Un’ boy had sold out or we had missed him.”

Though there were variations of the sports paper around the country, some were called the ‘Green Un’, our ‘Pink Un’ was different. Along the top of the back page was a series of caricatures, each depicting one of the local teams by their nicknames and a cartoon. The Steelman had the predictable ‘Tammy’ on his head, looking delighted if Corby had won, glum if they drew and with a plaster on his face if they had lost. Meant to assume that he had been in a fight and an argument over the defeat! 

Which tells you something about how the folk of Corby were perceived by our county cousins, a legacy of the 1930s and 40s so-called ‘Invasion of Scottish and Irish immigrants’ seeking work in the steelworks.

Other caricatures included ‘The Friar’, a fat bloke in a robe who represented the Poppies of Kettering. Wellingborough had the Doughboy, which presumably had something to do with the town’s flour factory Whitworths. Peterborough, the ‘Posh’, had a gentleman looking like Fred Astaire with a Top Hat. Also included were the Fenmen of Wisbech, the Linnets of Kings Lynn, the Hatters of Luton, the Tulips of Spalding, the Cobblers of Northampton, the Hares of March… 

For the team with the most impressive result of the day went the coveted ‘Pink Un Biscuit’ which looked like a Digestive. The biscuit was the first thing you looked for. If Corby Town was on it, especially after an away game, the excitement in searching for the match report was tangible. You could say the biscuit was the forerunner to the ‘Man of the Match’ award. And later on…in the 1990s.. the ‘Scotch Pie Man of the Match Award’. Presented to a player in the club bar after a game by Corby’s jovial impersonators of ‘Saint and Greavsie', John Crawley and Kenny Hughes. The bemused player receiving a rousing round of applause and the pie for his endeavour. Great fun and an innocent world away from the ‘wonderful game’ of the millennium.

But back to 1958..

In the beginning…the streets were alive with the sound of music… Connie Francis’ ‘Lipstick On Your Collar’, The Coasters’ ‘Charlie Brown’, Jerry Keller’s ‘Here Comes Summer’, Lonnie Donegan’s ‘Battle of New Orleans’, Russ Conway’s ‘China Tea’, Craig Douglas’ ‘Only Sixteen’.  Wafting in the wind from the Tannoy, and adding an extra ingredient of pre-match excitement at the Occupation Road Stadium, if that isn’t too grand a description.   

In truth, Occupation Road was probably one of the best, certainly better, non league football grounds in the country. Boasting newly installed sixty foot floodlight pylons in each corner and officially turned on for the first time in February of this year with a ‘Grand’ celebration match between the Steelmen and an ‘All Stars XI’ of ex international players. The Board of Directors, led by Mr F.C. Deeley, was there ever a more appropriate name for a football club chairman? were rightly proud of the lights. There was less than a handful in the country at this point. It was a sign of ambition the Directors proclaimed. Backed up by the appointment of  new player/manager, former Manchester United, Leicester City, Derby County and England international Johnny Morris for the inaugural season of the revamped non-league pyramid, the North West Zone of the Southern League, Exciting stuff but greeted as bullshit by most Corby supporters. Ambition? Just six years previously the board had released their record goalscorer, centre forward Ernie Middlemiss when Ernie had asked them if they would match an offer he had received from neighbours Kettering Town. “The Poppies offered me an extra fiver a week, I told the board, and they said ‘Go’.” Ernie Middlemiss had scored 134 goals in 135 games in three seasons. They obviously thought he was on the wane. 

Fred introduces Johnny to his Board.

Apart from the streets being alive with the sound of music, they were also alive with the sound of children. Kicking a ball about on street corners. Much to the annoyance of residents and nightshift workers trying to get some zzzz. We were regularly being chased to the nearest local patch of green. We weren’t called the ‘Baby Boomers’ for nothing. The post war years had seen a massive and sudden boom in the population thanks to returning servicemen desperate to get their leg over. 

Around town, every town as well you would assume, football matches of 20 a-side would take place on the green pastures, of which there was plenty.

Our patch was on Studfall Green. The sides included Dick Dighton, who would later make the grade as goalkeeper with Coventry City, Peterborough United, Kettering and Corby. Graham Henderson who gave up football for the guitar and headed for the Antipodes. Ian ‘Bomber’ Wilson who made a name for himself as a hard driving midfield enforcer, dirty bleeder in other words, with a number of local amateur clubs. Stan ‘Snowball’ Watkinson was as blind as a bat which didn’t stop him from becoming a well respected local referee. John Crawley was equally as short sighted as Stan but remembered fondly for booting an irritating dog, which was interfering our game, right up the ass! Fido was sent into orbit much to everyone’s delight and we carried on. 

Frank Clayton followed Stan by taking up the whistle. He too became a well respected ‘man in black’. John Sweeney, now living in Canada, was yet another who gave up playing to officiate and earn the soubriquet ‘well respected.….’ Funny that. How come they were all ‘well respected’? Some of them must have been crap. 

Another star of the ‘Green’ and later would became a significant figure at Corby Town as chairman was Douglas William ‘Bip’ Wetherell. A very successful businessman and entertainer, Bip, back then, was a speedy left winger with the nickname of Billy Whizz, tearing up the turf parallel to Studfall Avenue. 

Four of the Studfall Green stars reunited in the 2000s. L-r Clive Smith, Ian Wilson, Stan Watkinson and Dick Dightion.

Who could have known, back then in the 1950s and 60s, what lay ahead of some of these boys? A scenario which was replicated around the town on pitches at the Uppingham and Corby Boys Club, the Welfare Ground, the West Glebe Park? Norman Dean, Len Chalmers, Jim Fotherigham, Andy McCabe all had their fun here and went on to play for league clubs, Len becoming the first Corby born footballer to play in a Cup Final, and an unwanted statistic as being a member of the ‘Wembley Hoodoo’ club when he was injured in the 1961 Final playing for Leicester. Cup Finals had been marred for years with players breaking legs, a neck even. It would eventually, see the introduction of substitutes, but it took another four years after Len Chalmers had knackered his leg against the ‘Double’ winning team of Tottenham Hotspur.  

1958 was memorable for a number of reasons, the World Cup in Sweden and the magical Brazilian team of Pele, Vava, Didi, Zito and co.  Such exotic names. A tradition carried on by todays great Braziilians, Fred, Malcom, Bernard.. 1958 was also witness to the tragic Munich Air Crash involving Manchester United. Half the team, the famed ‘Busby Babes’ was wiped out. It was a depleted United side that played Bolton Wanderers in the Cup Final with their murderous centre forward Nat Lofthouse scoring both goals in the 2-0 win. Players like him would have goalkeepers cacking in their pants nowadays. One of the youngsters drafted into the United team that day was Alex Dawson who himself gained a reputation in the Lofthouse mould as, shall we say, uncompromising. In the early 1970s, Alex ended up at Occupation Road, putting the icing on a cake of a wonderful career with a couple of seasons with the Steelmen.

Television was still relatively new in those days, not everyone had one. We did, but I don’t recall the Cup Final being shown in our house. Highly unlikely as it was a Welsh household and rugby mad family. I do remember rugby internationals being on and the house full of my brothers, their friends, uncles and my dad getting pissed up and cheering on the Welsh team. Even remember them having a scrum in our front room! Great fun. Mam didn’t seem to mind, well she wouldn’t, she loved it all as well. But the point of this is I guess, I was the black sheep! I was the only football fan in the family!

My passion for the Steelmen started this year, the 58/59 season, joining all the other kids being drawn like disciples following the Pied Piper to the hallowed ground of Occy Road. A passion shared by Graham Henderson; “I vividly remember 5/6 of us walking down Occupation Road to a night game, and when we saw the floodlights switched on we quickened our pace to get there. It was so exciting”.

I have wondered many a time what my first game was. Being the tender age of 8 my main memories of those initial years seem to be more about playing ‘Tig’ or ‘Hide and Seek’ during the games. Running around, no doubt annoying adults, being a pest and generally an all round nuisance! It was like a playground! Proceedings would be halted if there was a penalty awarded or something, and all the kids would make a mad dash to get behind one of the goals. 

Funnily enough, a scene re-enacted a fews decades later by my son Gareth and his friends in the 1980s. ‘Enjoy the game?’ My wife Sue would ask him. ‘Yeah it was great mum!’ he’d reply enthusiastically. Used to make us both laugh!

Looking at and writing the history of the club I have eventually settled on my first game being on October 18th 1958, against a team from South Wales, Barry Town. 

Maybe it was the fact that it was Barry Town, a place where we used to visit on our holiday every year, that caught my attention. Whatever it was, it captured and fired my imagination. 

Getting to Wales in the 50s was a merciless journey. Ten hours on a bus. You could have gone to the moon quicker. It was like going to another planet! I remember feeling sorry for the Barry team having to suffer the torture of that trip which even today I can recall every bleeding place we stopped at! Hated it, we were always talking to ‘Huweee’ ..spewing up, but it was great when we got there.

Barry’s strip was silky green shirts, black shorts, they glistened in the sun. Looked brilliant. Corby, in the traditional black and white, equally looked great. In all honesty the only things I remember about that game was Corby’s goalkeeper Pat Egglestone getting carried off on a stretcher after diving at a Barry forward’s feet, his head covered in blood. Looked horrible and frightened me to death! The other thing I seem to remember, for some reason, was Corby’s centre half, South African Norman Neilson, a six foot seven giant of a guy, playing centre forward this day, blootering the ball right over the floodlights! Impressive. And I’m sure he blasted a goal for Corby from the half way line! Which with research turned out to be a direct free kick from 40 yards that went in off the crossbar against Cambridge City a month later.  Good old fashioned ‘Big Ham’ they’d call him nowadays! 

Egglestone carried off, Willie Morris reduced to a cripple, you'd have thought the Steelmen were well beaten but not so, according to the ET critic. 'The Steelmen should have waltzed through such mediocre opposition' he wrote. Bit harsh but he wasn't happy!
Something I didn't realise, or had forgotten was the pre-match entertainment provided by a dog show! As advertised. Quite an innovative idea by the Steelmen Board of Directors for the time!

For the record,, Corby’s team was Pat Egglestone; Johnny Poppitt, Willie Morris; Johnny Morris, John Croy, who took over in goals from Egglestone, Barry Parsons; Alec Harper, John Rennie, Norman Neilson, Jimmy Adam and Peter McKay.

On The Road Again..to Matlock

The Rock Squad was back on the road for the first time since the Whitby outing in September. Renewed faith in the Steelmen after the Spennymoor victory the week before encouraging a trip to Derbyshire to see if the Corby boys could repeat what was something of a surprise again. Matlock have aspirations of climbing to a higher level and are clearly not lying fifth in the table at this stage of the season for nothing. Maybe that was their downfall. Complacency the dreaded word. And why shouldn’t they have been? After all the visitors have been bereft of form, ideas, heart, ambition, will, you name it, all season. So, Big Gordon Edgar has decided to give the Steelmen another go, after feeling unwell the day before with a dose of the tom tits. John Crawley, Brian Joiner and myself, who I have to admit, had given up the ghost a few weeks back, join him.

A pleasant trip throughout the dales it was, interspersed with JC talking horse manure as is his wont, sitting in the front navigating and taking us off on a scenic route into Matlock. “Listen to the sat nav!” Also, starting a conversation about Gary Glitter which rapidly went nowhere fast. “Did you see Gary Glitter at the Stardust John?” I asked, after hearing his name mentioned on the car radio. “No’ he answered. “Where did you see him then?” I asked again. “I didn’t see him” he said. ‘You just said you did”, “No I didn’t”. “Where did you see him then?” By now, i’m clearly unintentionally getting on his tits. “I haven’t seen Gary Glitter!” John bellows. “Well you mentioned him, I thought you said you saw him at the Stardust!” “I just told you, I haven’t seen Gary Glitter!”

By now Gordon is shaking his head in bewilderment, trying to keep his eye on the road. “What the fark are you two talking about!” Brian was sitting impassive, suppressing laughter, he’s heard this sort of conversation before. Thing is, John when sitting in the front of the car is hard to hear, those soft gentle tones of his don’t carry in the wind. And I reminded him I was paid money for being half deaf through my time working in the tube works! Speak up John! 

A conversation ensues about some of the punters in the Rock that are sadly no longer with us. John recalling a guy who played the keyboard, well tried to anyway. Can’t remember his name. Heard John say; “He died” I ask, ‘who died?’ 

“No, I didn’t say he died, I said he was from Hyde” 

“Hyde, i thought you said he’d died”

“He has died!” 

“That guy from Hyde?” 

 Thank Christ we had arrived in Hyde, I mean Matlock by this time!

We arrived in plenty of time, had a pint in the Railway pub, then made our way to the ground. A pleasant wee non league ground, picturesque with the hills in the background and a castle plonked on top. “Shithole” John said. No appreciation of our countryside has John.

The teams come out, and I hardly recognise anyone! Its been around four weeks since I gave up watching them but ruddy hell, who are half of these people! To be fair, the manager Gary Mills has taken more than his fair share of stick since he took over the reins two months back but it looks like he’s assembling his own team at last. Considering Matlock are the high fliers, Corby were looking pretty steady. Good to see big Aiden Grant back in goals. Why he was dropped is anybody’s guess. Couple of guys in defence who I hadn’t seen before. The number 6 looked lumbering, a member of the ‘seen milk turn quicker’ brigade, though I have to say, he did have a better second half. His pal alongside him was better, didn’t recognise him but he was domineering throughout, must have had a sore head after the game with all the heading he’d done but talking to Dave Tilley the intrepid Steelmen photographer, stat man, he revealed that it was Aaron Brown! This was the donkey that graced the Steelmen shirt for a spell at the start of last season! Well Aaron, you looked more like a thouroughbred in this game, outstanding. Won’t call you a donkey again!

Standing behind the goals with about ten minutes gone, who walks past us, but our good friend, club shop entrepreneur John ‘Wilf’ Wilson - with one of our directors, Paul Glass! They look as surprised as us! Without breaking step, ‘what are you doing here?” they marched on, heading for the directors enclosure, and a free sandwich at half time, free programme, free cup of tea and no doubt  after gaining free entry into the game!

‘Cheesy bastard!” Gordon shouts. “What a chancer!’ or words to that effect, I add. They had turned up late, missed the kick off but …they headed for the free meal ticket. “Bastard!” Gordon says cracking up laughing. I curse again. Crawley, Edgar and Joiner are creasing up. “Your just jealous cus Wilf has taken your place, you used to get away with it for years!” Crawley splutters. Fair enough. It was all said in jest mind. Over the years Ive gained entry to away games as a player, trainer, director, bus driver…

Tense moments as Matlock attack again

The game was moving on, Matlock looking the more dangerous but then suddenly, just to shut the home fans up, Phil Trainer scores for Corby from a corner to put us 1 up! Brilliant! A few minutes later, my mobile goes off, it’s a text. From Wilf. ‘Corby 1 up” it says. “Look at this” I showed the boys. The three of them start laughing. Ten minutes later or whatever it was, another shock for Matlock, and the home supporters. Milnes puts Corby 2 up! My phone goes off again. It’s Wilf. ‘Corby 2 up!’

“Has he forgotten he’s seen us?” Gordon asks in complete bemusement. Crawley, Brian and I all look at my phone.  A Corby player gets booked. Its Wilf again ‘Corby player booked’  

“Fark me!” 

Matlock come close with a shot that hits the crossbar and the whistle goes for half time. Corby 2-0 to the good and on course for one of the major shocks of the day. Well in the Northern Premier League anyway.

Wilf; ‘Corby 2-0 up at half time!’

We gave up!

Second half, Matlock have come out with all guns blazing, embarrassed at being humped at home by the bottom of the table no hopers from Corby.

Corby have played well, look a far better team they have done all season. Look like a team with belief is Gordon’s assessment. Fair enough too. Matlock nearly crap themselves as a Steelmen shot crashes against the crossbar. That would have sealed the game and points!

Rattled, the home side press even harder, Corby are hanging in there. Milnes goes off, damn, our key man. Yes Wilf, we have seen him go off!

Then a clash on the ground between a Matlock defender and Corby forward Trainer. Trainer is given a straight red! Bollocks! Would you believe it, Wilf texts….’Trainer..’ Brian says, send him a text back..’Who’s been given a red card?” We’re all pissing yourselves. 

Can Corby hang on with ten men? Quarter of an hour to go. Matlock are desperate. Their number 7 is having a blinder, thinks he’s Messi. “He always ends up beating himself though!” Brian says. 

Corner after corner, Brown and co keep heading the balls out. Then a ricochet or two, and Matlock get a goal back. Shite!

The noise levels rise, blow that bleedin’ whistle ref! “He’s been shite this second half” Crawley squeals. “He’s been shite all game” Brian opines. He certainly has. “Poser, thinks he’s on tele” I add. Just to qualify this, Big Gordon bellows out in rage after another crap decision “You’re SHITE referee!!” Home fans around us look on, they are clearly thinking; ‘who are these morons?”

The final whistle goes after four added extra minutes. The Steelmen have won! Unbelievable. Joy! Ecstatic, we head off looking for a chippie. Been a good day. “We are now third bottom!” John says with glee. Cause for celebration!

Happy Days!

Journey home is satisfying, and quiet. Brian has fell asleep, John is contemplating the rest of the season, “we can still get out of this mess”. Gordon turns the radio on. 

Thankfully Gary Glitter isn’t mentioned again. And what’s happened to Wilf!

A View From the Rock - Steelmen on Tour

The photo is of the motley crew congregating in the Rock before last Saturdays adventure to FC United in Manchester. It had been decided after some debate throughout the week leading up to the game that the M1 was the best option following a discussion Dan had had with his lorry driving brother Harry. Fair enough, you bow to these legends of the road. We were going in convoy with Pat McMahon in the vanguard, accompanied by Dan Coyle, Wilf Wilson and myself. Gordon Edgar was following, his team consisting of Brian Joiner, Fish and JC. The big feller (Gordon) had been preening beforehand about his new car but was somewhat disenchanted when he told us later at the Dog and Partridge, a lovely Inn high on the Moors, that his fuel gauge wasn't working! Questions were asked about where he purchased the vehicle, ‘not from a car salesman in the Rock by any chance Gordon?’ 

A nice snack and a pint was enjoyed in the Dog, nice people running the place too. Dan Coyle was his usual insouciant self, almost joyous, asking the landlady if she would be kind enough to place his Kit Kat, which was melting in his rucksack, in her fridge to harden for a bit. 

That she did was testimony to what pleasant people they are in the north of England. “Of course” she said with a lovely smile to a delighted Dan, “no problem”.

Half an hour later while driving through the wonderfully named village of Tintwhistle Dan blurted out from the back of the car; “My Kit Kat!” Pat nearly put his foot through the floor as he slammed his brakes!  I wouldn’t say Dan was distraught at the possible loss of his Kit Kat, too strong a word, but we pacified him by telling him we would head back to the Dug after the game to retrieve it and for a post match pint while we were there. 

The M1 turned out to be a decent route, as rumours before kick off confirmed. The supporters bus which left the White Hart had been delayed on the awful M6 due to the normal congestion and delays and didn’t arrive at FC until well after the kick off. 

The trip to FC United was certainly an experience. We had been warned beforehand that the welcome at Moston, Manchester would be hostile, unfriendly. The supporters were arrogant, belligerent. Couldn’t have been further from the truth. Everyone was made to feel welcome. 

They have a wonderful ground, great facilities and bags of room for expansion. A club on its way up the pyramid ladder, no doubt about it. 

The atmosphere inside their stadium was electric and the din their fans make has to be heard to be believed. Some cracking songs they sing as well. What was amazing was how many of their ‘old yins’ were singing along with gusto too. They say a crowd like that is worth a goal start to their team. An old cliche it may be, even if Corby defied that logic last Saturday. It was a battle of the two promoted Champion sides from last season and it was a good scrap. FC charged out of their blocks from the kick off and tore into the Steelmen, hammering away towards the hordes of their fans in that huge intimidating stand behind the goal. 

It must haven discerning for keeper Paul Walker but a good experience never the less and he was his usual safe and solid self. 

It didn’t look too promising with Corby’s goal under siege but the defence held firm with Ben Milnes and Cleveland Taylor both tireless terriers in front of the back four providing some excellent cover. As the game progressed FC’s desire began to wane, passes began to stray, frustration crept in as Corby’s defence held firm. There was only occasional forays into the FC half but it was enough to make FC feel uncomfortable about a counter attack.

Second half was much the same with the Steelmen more prominent in attack but it was a stalemate. The noise intensified though. The 3,000 odd fans sang even louder. Both sides were going for the winner, one goal would surely be enough, and unfortunately for us, it went to the home side, with five minutes left on the clock. A scrappy effort it was too but they all count. The Corby team and our fans, must have been well over a hundred had travelled, were deflated. Home fans were gracious, shaking our hands and wishing us well and a safe trip home. The banter during the game had been great. 

A sickening blow and ultimately disappointing result, Tommy Wright mustn’t lose heart, this was by far the best his team had played this season. Suddenly it looked like the team started to believe that they do belong in this division, we can hold our own with the ‘big money’ sides.

FC are a club going places, as long as they can hold on to their core of ‘disgruntled’ Man Utd fans, as Pat McMahon opined. As their songs about Busby and the George Best era intimated, they have fallen out of love with their parent club and premiership football in general. The sky high admission prices, the all seating arenas, the hype, the absurd wages..haven’t we all had enough of this? United’s goalkeeper David De Gea epitomised the phoney and sanctimonious state of the game at the higher level this week. Denied a transfer to Real Madrid and sulking after months of courting the Spanish giants, all of a sudden, when it’s clear it wasn’t going to happen, he’s ‘delighted’ to be staying at Old Trafford after all, no doubt persuaded by a four year deal believed to be worth around £200,000 a week. OK, you wouldn’t turn it down either but you can understand the disillusionment of football fans who follow these clubs. And we are supposed to idolise these people? 

Getting back to matters nearer home at Steel Park. There has been a lot of wailing this season, regarding the style of play the Steelmen have been serving up and only the other week, Tommy Wright’s admission that he gets frustrated and doesn’t want to watch the style of football of lumping the ball up front all the time, was refreshing. Tom’s on the same wavelength as most of us punters even if Pat McMahon claims he over hears us sitting in the stand whinging! The former Corby Radio presenter is vociferous and often emotional. 

Having said all this its great being in this league and it will take time to adapt to this higher level of football. Quite simply there’s a few clubs who are full-time, bigger clubs with bigger fan bases, hence more money so personally I reckon we should all appreciate what we have and keep the faith with Tommy and the board and that we will continue to progress. Takes time, and money, chaps.

Worcester City are our opponents today, another club we have done many a battle with over the years. They were one of the first teams I remember watching at Occupation Road when I was a kid. There was great excitement at the inclusion of former Manchester City and Welsh international captain Roy Paul playing for them at the time. 

Don’t remember much about the game, to tell you the truth. At the age of 8 I was more interested in playing ‘tig' and chasing around with my mates, probably annoying the older fans! Until there was a penalty or something! 

Happy days!

Jim Fotheringham

Jim Fotheringham

There have been many local lads to have broken into the big time but not many will be aware of who was the first. Back in the 1950s, former Corby Boys School player Jim Fotheringham was making a name for himself at centre half playing for Arsenal. He did in fact play for Arsenal against Manchester United the Saturday before United's ill fated trip to Yugoslavia and the Munich air crash. In 1955 Jim was featured in the July edition of the Charles Buchan Football Monthly. Here is his story;

'My Arsenal pals who have more soccer service in years than I have in months have often told me that the game a player never forgets is his first league match. I fully endorse that now, especially as in my case the first league problem that I had as a centre half, I had to deal with a fellow in a number 9 shirt named Nat Lofthouse. My second senior outing was against a Russian side in a match that had been lifted from the sports page to the front page - with the knowledge that millions were looking on through TV.'
It all added up to quite an opening for a teenage Scot. 'That was some week for me, last November. It began with a message to report to Mr. Whittaker's office on the Wednesday before our game with Bolton at Burnden Park. The boss told me I would be playing, also that I was being given early notice to get used to the idea and so stave off last minute nerves. But only when he wished me luck did the news really sink in. Nervous? I took it all very calmly - on Wednesday. On Thursday, thinking about the coming ordeal, I hardly ate anything! But by Saturday I felt quite composed. Nat Lofthouse was a great sport and I thoroughly enjoyed our first meeting. We got a much needed point in a 2-2 draw. Nat didn't score and it was this as much as anything that brought me to the end of the match very much relieved. I don't claim to be without nerves and I suppose the thoughts of playing against Spartak three days later should have been enough to worry anybody. But I kidded myself into thinking that it was just another game, despite the trimmings that were being woven around it. Honestly, I couldn't get over excited about the match. I suppose that is why I went out to have what I feel is my best game so far.
We Arsenal players tried all we knew to wipe out the memory of that 5-0 beating by Moscow Dynamo a month earlier. Maybe if we had got that second half penalty for a foul on Arthur Milton our right winger, we would have made it a draw. But though we went don 2-1 we all knew that we had done something to atone partially at least, for the Moscow beating.
For Arsenal was a grand team that night. In all modesty we can claim to have blown up the theories that Spartak were world beaters - Wolves later confirmed the point. That first week of mine is, naturally, the high spot in a modest career that has yet to stretch to a full season. But there was another week when it seemed that things might work out in rather hectic fashion for me. Looking back now I am rather frightened at the thought that my first big game might have been at Wembley in the Cup Final. Here are the facts; Three years ago Arsenal, due to meet Newcastle at Wembley, had the unluckiest bunch of injuries a club could have. Jimmy Logie and Doug Lishman were hospital cases and Ray Daniel our centre half, had a broken wrist in plaster and was very doubtful. I was reserve centre half, but right half Arthur Shaw-with much more experience- was given a game at centre half I case he had to take Ray's place. And Arthur also broke an arm. I had read in the newspapers that Arsenal might have to call on a young unknown in the Final. His name was Jim Fotheringham, and those reports made me very nervous. I doubt if I was seriously considered at the time, but Arthur’s injury made the situation even more desperate. Perhaps I solved it. That Saturday before the Cup Final I fell against our goalpost in trying to head away a corner. I caught the bottom of my spine and my legs became paralysed. They had to carry me off and I spent the next week in hospital.
But for my football I would have followed father into his trade as an engineer. My father came to Corby, Northants - 'Little Scotland' they call it, when I was eighteen months old. Many people are surprised at my Scottish accent when I tell them I have been in England so long - but Corby and thousands of exiled Scots explains that. Like most kids it was Rangers for me in the early days - even at some 400 miles range. Too busy playing; I saw little senior football as a youngster. But in Scotland on holidays I usually managed to see a game or two there, and big Frank Brennan was my favourite. He was then playing for Airdrie.

Big Jim Boys Club Days

My school games were played in the Samuel Lloyd School side; I was a left back then. Than came a move on to Corby Technical College and a change to centre half. I also represented Northampton Youth and was thrilled at the news that Sunderland and Leicester scouts were watching me. But before then came a chance for me, a Scot, to play for England schoolboys. I was picked for the South team to meet the North in a trial at Oxford. A few days before the game I went down with flu, but scared that I would miss my chance, I pretended to be better on the day. I made a real hash of things and bang went my cap. Strange, something like that almost happened to me on another occasion when I had my heart set on a game. I got the chance to play for the Army against Scotland at Hampden Park, during my service days. It was a wonderful thrill- until a troublesome boil on the face almost closed my left eye. I had daily penicillin injections, but it was no where near right on the day and again I had to pretend that I was much better than I really was. But who wouldn't have done the same in my place? We lost 2-1, but I had the privilege and pleasure of meeting fellows like George Young, Tommy Ring and Bobby Johnstone that afternoon.
My father, to my surprise, would not hear of trials at either Sunderland or Leicester for me. Much later I found out that he had his eyes and his hopes on a London club for me. An Arsenal scout was the first to enter our sitting room, and, in 1949, I was off to Highbury.
So keen was I, to make good that I spent a fortnight’s holiday there in order to be really fit for my test. I was determined not to let my father or myself down. My first game was against Leyton Orient in the London Mid-Week League. I was then 16. Now, at 6ft 3", they tell me I’m the tallest player in the game. Well, it's handy, to say the least, when the ball is in the air. I have had the best coaching from great players and great colleagues like Alf Field and Leslie Compton - and Tommy Lawton has been long suffering and a model of patience in teaching me how best to head a ball. And Arsenal? Even to a football rookie like me it is so obviously the best club in the world!'

Jim Fotheringham was selected for the Scotland World Cup squad in 1958 and later signed for Hearts for £12,000. Returning south he joined Northampton Town and broke his leg which sadly, was the end of his career. Jim spent three months coaching the Libyan national side in 1961 for the Arab Olympic Games. Turning his back of football, Jim took a job in the steelworks and died in Corby at the age of 44 in 1977.

Fifty Years Ago This Week...November 1963

Corby v Dover Nov 9 2013

Jimmy Stanley heads wide against Bristol City in the F.A.Cup 1st Round at Occupation Road 1963

The world was stunned with the assassination of American President John F Kennedy, gunned down in Dallas, Texas. Conspiracy theorists have had a field day ever since over who really killed JFK. This was at the height of the so-called 'Cold War', East verses West, Russia verses the United States, CND marches, Soviet spies. Doom merchants predicted we were staring into the abyss of World War 3. Suddenly the world seemed a frightening place to be. "Where were you when you heard the news?" became the question generations would ask each other whenever the event was recalled.
Back in Corby, Tommy Hadden had other events on his mind. The manager of the Steelmen had his own spies out whilst attempting to plot the downfall of Third Division Bristol City in the F.A.Cup 1st Round Proper at Occupation Road. "Nothing to beat" Tommy was told, "this lot are cack". City may have been on an eleven match unbeaten run but Tommy was confident. "We too are on a ten match unbeaten run." He didn't go as far to say that 'we can shoot them down' but did say in his programme notes; "However good City are, I feel it is not beyond us to at least get a draw, our lads have proved as much against the glamorous Chelmsford City side." Which must have had the Bristol supporters quaking in their boots.
The Bristol City tie had the town buzzing with excitement. Programmes and rosettes adorned with 'Up The Steelmen!' were being sold in all the town pubs and clubs a week before the game. Schools were suddenly finding themselves short of toilet rolls as they were pilfered to be used as streamers at the game. Rattles were being oiled. Over 6,000 spectators jammed the roads with cars around the ground; Occupation Road resembled an early version of the M25. Non football fans on the 289 bus from the steelworks were less than enamored as it crawled through the traffic after the 6 to 2 shift. "Hurry up driver, the pubs shut at half two!" cried irate and gasping for a pint steelworkers.
A distraction from the excitement enveloping the town was provided with the announcement of the Dartford Tunnel being opened this week, the first episode of Dr Who being broadcast on BBC, 'With The Beatles' being released prior to the band departing on their first tour of the States and world domination. This was also the week that saw Gerry and the Pacemakers sitting proudly at the top of the record charts with a record that would be adopted by the supporters of their home town team Liverpool F.C and become the club's national anthem 'You'll Never Walk Alone'.
Steelmen fans had their own anthem, 'Ye Canny Shuv Yer Grannie Aff A Bus!"

The Corby team showed one change from their regular line up with forward Bobby Laverick sitting the game out due to suspension following a sending off at Trowbridge a month before the cup game. It was a blow without a doubt; Laverick had been around for a long time playing for the likes of Everton, Chelsea and Brighton. His experience would have been invaluable. However as one door closes, another one opens they say and stepping into the breach was local lad Jimmy Stanley who had already caught the attention of league scouts for Leicester City and Bolton Wanderers. Bristol City were led out by former England international centre forward John Atyeo, a big strapping guy that must have seemed a daunting task for Corby's centre half Barry Parsons. Not that Barry lost much sleep over the prospect; he was one of the most laid back players you could meet. Alongside him in defence was his mate, the tireless John Rennie. The two of them were stalwarts in the Corby side and according to their pal and still Corby supporter, George Bradshaw, 'the Raven' also, for over a decade. George maintains to this day that after a game at Occupation Road, the two of them would be in the Raven bar before the supporters! The Raven, apparently, was a favourite haunt for the Corby Town players, a handy drinking hole around the corner from the ground where they could chew the fat after games, and quite often, before the games! Hughie Curran the shining star of the Corby team who moved onto greener pastures and won Scotland caps whilst with Wolves was in the bar arguing with regulars John Black and Willie Ross the night before. John said Curran was half blootered and told him he should be at home resting. Curran told them to bog off, or words to that affect!

The atmosphere in the ground was electric when they kicked off and erupted when Tommy Crawley narrowly headed a cross over the City bar in the 3rd minute. Crawley wasn't to be denied though and opened the scoring by guiding in a free kick from full back Davy Pollard after 18 minutes. Rolls of Izal were unfurled onto the pitch by ecstatic young Steelmen supporters now beginning to dream the unthinkable of the mystical 'giant killing act' famous in the F.A. Cup. The illustrious West of England visitors were there to be slain by the minnows from the Southern League. Atyeo and his brothers had other ideas. Before half time that had replied with two goals in eight minutes to stun the home crowd and take the sting out of the match. Corby continued to batter away at City in the second half with Curran driving his forwards on, showing no signs of an Ansells Ale too many. Crawley Hukin and Jimmy Stanley all went 'agonisingly close' before a third goal scored by England Under 23 player Jantzen Derrick proved to be the killer blow and the Steelmen were down and out. But what a fight it had been.
A great day in the annals of Steelmen history, even if we were humped.
Other notable results in the cup on the day was Kettering drawing at home to Millwall, Harwich getting hammered 8-2 at Crystal Palace and Coventry thumping Trowbridge away 6-1.

The Magical Magyars? What about the Magical Steelmen!

Time Travel.

November 1953. It was sixty years ago this week when the country was given a lift with the news that rationing, introduced immediately at the end of the War, was to end. Everything from bread to bananas, petrol to plums was once again going to be plentiful. Rationing had prompted many in the intervening years to ask sarcastically 'I thought we won the bleedin' thing?' The government also announced plans to introduce commercial television, complete with adverts, to provide competition for the BBC. Catch-phrases like 'Don't forget the fruit gums mum' and 'A Mars a day helps you work, rest and play' would soon be ingrained into the subconscious. Ditties like 'You'll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent' would annoyingly swirl around your head.
1953 was an interesting year. We all know about the Queen's Coronation, the 'Stanley Mathews' Cup Final and maybe the science fiction series Quatermass being aired for the first time on television to terrify youngsters going to bed. We saw the end of the Korean War, which was a massive relief for Britain’s national servicemen. There were a few other interesting items of note. The appropriately named United States district Judge Grim, ruling that the NFL can black out TV home games. Miserable bloke. The England cricket team under Len Hutton defeating Australia to win The Ashes for the first time in 19 years. There was bad news for rabbits with Myxomatosis reaching these shores after being illegally introduced onto an estate in West Sussex and in November the Samaritans telephone counseling service for the suicidal was started by Rev. Chad Varah in London.

During these austere post war years one thing that raised the spirits of the population was a game of football. Crowds were booming until the advent of the 'box', stadiums were at bursting point with spectators keen to watch the stars of the day. England after all, was the home of football. We had invented the game, we had the best players, the national team was unbeaten at home. Wembley was impregnable! Or so everyone believed.
In November 1953 a rude awakening came when a team who ironically had been coached by a little known Englishman, Jimmy Hogan, took on England at Wembley, and demolished them, 6-3. Wholly unexpected, the performance of the Hungarians in defeating England on their own turf sent shock waves through the football world, if not at the HQ of the Football Association. "Good Lord old boy, totally a one-off" you can imagine them bluster. Well, six months later a return fixture in Budapest saw the Hungarians crush England once more, 7-1. Hungary destroyed England with a tactical plan based on the theories of Hogan, a man from Nelson, Lancashire who had failed to get a coaching job in his own country before the war. Ignored, Jimmy took his ideas to manage with great success on the continent, particularly in Switzerland, Austria and then Hungary. That murky miserable November afternoon in London saw the little white-haired 71 year old Hogan sitting in the Royal Box at Wembley, the guest, not of the Football Association, but of the Hungarians. After watching his team take the piss out of the England team he was later called a 'traitor' by the F.A.!  The president of the Hungarian Football Association, Sandor Barcs, was more candid: "Jimmy Hogan taught us everything we know about football. His coaching is based on ball mastery which appears to be deficient in the English players."
A re-appraisal of the match many years later read; 'England lined up in its usual WM formation, and included Stanley Matthews, Stan Mortensen, Alf Ramsey and captain Billy Wright - widely regarded as one of the best defenders in the world. “This will be easy” said one England player as the teams walked out, “they’ve all got carpet slippers on.” Indeed, Hungary’s footwear did look like slippers compared with England's thunderous boots, but they could smack the ball pretty hard when they needed to, as Nandor Hidegkuti did in the opening seconds, from 20 yards, his opening shot arrow straight past goalkeeper Gil Merrick. The Hungarians played in tight little triangles, then suddenly opened up with a raking pass of 30, 40, 50 yards or more to a sprinting colleague. They gave the impression that they could always score a goal if they really needed one - and skipper Puskas scored one marvelous individual goal which is still considered one of the greatest of all time. The Hungarians lined up in a 2-3-3-2 formation. Bozsik played in the deep lying midfield position, with Hidegkuti free to roam between midfield and attack. Puskás and Kocsis were the strikers, with the width provided by Czibor and Budai. The press dubbed this team from Eastern Europe, 'The Magical Magyars' and started a campaign for Jimmy Hogan to be installed as the England manager. The call fell on deaf ears. He was considered too old by the F.A. president Stanley Rous and his cohorts. It’s laughable really to think that for years to come, until Alf Ramsey took charge in 1963, the England team was still selected by a committee.
Why was England so confident? Why did a number of people state that ‘Hungary was going to be push overs?’ Hard to believe, considering that England, only three years before, had been beaten by a United States side 1-0 in the 1950 World Cup.'
Future England manager Sir Bobby Robson said of the game: "We saw a system of play that we had never seen before. None of these Hungarian players meant anything to us. We didn't know about Puskás. All these fantastic players, they were men from Mars as far as we were concerned. They were coming to England, England had never been beaten at Wembley - this would be a 3-0, 4-0 maybe even 5-0 demolition of a small country who were just coming into European football. They called Puskás the 'Galloping Major' because he was in the army - how could this guy serving for the Hungarian army come to Wembley and rifle us to defeat? But the way they played, their technical brilliance and expertise - our WM formation was kyboshed in ninety minutes of football. The game had a profound effect, not just on myself but on all of us. We thought we would demolish this team - England at Wembley, we are the masters, they are the pupils. It was absolutely the other way."

The game was broadcast 'live' on BBC television, not that many folk had a TV set, this was still a new and an amazing contraption for the best part of the population. Most football fans those days followed their local team. Corby was no different. Everyone it seemed was gushing over the Hungarian performance, not least in a town that was predominantly Scottish! Our Caledonian cousins loved it. This same week though, when everyone was enthusing about the 'Magical Magyars', it might well have been asked; 'What about the Magical Steelmen! We scored six too!"
On the end of a Steelmen thrashing was Bradford Park Avenue Reserves in a Midland League fixture. The name Park Avenue does resemble a packet of cigarettes and it was no coincidence that long before the end our visitors were puffing. The Steelmen were smoking this day. Manager Wally Akers assumed everybody was engrossed the way the Magyars controlled the game so he had a master plan to confuse the Yorkshiremen; nobody to play sweeper, no deep lying centre forward, no wingers that would track back and half backs that would play triangular passes with the inside forwards. No, Wally sent out his team with the robust Fred Slater at centre forward to obliterate the visitors defence. Cheered on by a crowd of supporters who had revelled in watching 'the auld enemy' being annihilated and then with the Steelmen running riot. Fred smacked home four goals with schemer Billy Deakin and winger John Kirk also getting in on the act. Bradford had no answer, apparently! Magical Magyars? Magical Steelmen mate!! Happy Days!
The team this November day was goalkeeper Alick Grant, Jimmy Baird and Tommy Hadden the full backs, Walter Harrison, Jim Harrison and schoolteacher Jack Connors the half backs, John Kirk, Billy  Deakin, Fred Slater, Jimmy Garvey and Danny Smith the forwards.