Some will have already switched off, and who can blame them. There’s a huge amount of football talk around. I was reminded of the days when I used to go to football matches, after all I’m one of that generation who saw Best Charlton and Law playing in their hey day. The last match I went to was at Arsenal’s then new stadium, with my son in law Jack. Great day out a mere walk away from where he lived at the time. Seats! And a view over the goal end. Good game too.

When I lived and worked in London back in the 70s a good friend told me about taking his then girlfriend to watch West Ham at an evening match. As they excitedly climbed the stairs in the stand to go and find where they were to sit and the pitch came into view its lovely green surface illuminated by the powerful lights. ‘Cor blimey! It’s in colour’ his girlfriend blurted out in her enthusiasm. Almost as if she was to be watching it on the latest and relatively new colour TV. At the time West Ham’s Upton Park ground was a squeeze where one thought they only just managed to fit the pitch in.

In my youth I visited loads of grounds to watch football. Deepdale, Preston North End’s ground was a favourite, I used to stand with my diminutive best mate Nobby Clarke shouting the odds at a team that would occasionally surprise us with a win. I recall a big FA cut game there against Liverpool whose supporters invaded the pitch before kick off just for fun. They were bundled off by the regulation constables one of who was caught slap bang in the neck with a pie thrown from the back of the stand. As the gravy dripped down his back we wondered why exactly he’d been targeted with such a delicacy and if it might have been a comment about the quality of the pie. He took the assault with surprising grace. Preston actually won with a goal close to the final whistle from a header by Alex Dawson who performed better with his head than his feet generally and one could hear the contact thump to his head all around the stand. Turns out he was in the Manchester United team that followed the Munich Tragedy, and gave a good account of himself there. He was an old fashioned centre forward able it seemed to be able to walk through brick walls.

When our family moved to Accrington we chose to go and watch ” the Stanley ” a couple of times. Their stadium was somewhat dilapidated, floodlights appeared to be a big bulb on the occasional lamppost. I seem to remember their half time pies for the small number of supporters that turned up were excellent, not worthy of a policeman’s neck. Accrington Stanley we’re expelled from the league that same year.

Ewood Park, the home of Blackburn Rovers was another place I occasionally took in. A huge ground I seem to remember, and they still play there.

Then the family moved to Bolton, a mere walk away from Burden Park, the home then of Bolton Wanderers. This is now an Asda Supermarket. I liked it there and saw some great games there. I recall Francis Lee, not a tall man, but with a chest like a beer barrel, knocking down opposition players with that chest and scoring with a stunning strike. We never sat down for these early games, nor did we sit down later when I and college friends went to watch Manchester United, packed like sardines in a tin at the Stratford End. We all understood that if United scored then ones feet would leave the ground and you would be transferred at least eight steps down, and they scored quite regularly. We went to watch them play against Benfica in the European Cup Competition. Eusebio, the Benfica winger took a shot from outside the area and hit the ball so hard that there was no curve downward in it’s progress to the goal, it went parallel to the ground all the way to the back of the net.I reckon that if there had been nothing between it after it had left his foot it might have reached Chorlton Cum Hardy before it next touched earth. Apart from a kick by a young lad who used to play park football with us ( coats for goals ) this was the hardest most powerful shot of a football that I’d ever witnessed. I wonder if anyone ever discovered the bloke from the park? I don’t recall now if United won in the end or not.

If you want to see the sort of footballing level I got to you need only look at this.

Alex Dawson in his Preston North End days. What a refreshing change to see a footballer without ads and sponsors all over his shirt and no tattoos of lions and that sort of crap creeping up their legs and necks.I blame David Beckham for starting that tats nonsense….