Tale 20 - What a Messi.
On the way to school, The Sassy Princess and The Prince of Tales were talking about the jobs they would do in the future, and the large amounts of money they would earn.
The Sassy Princess was going to be a famous singer, actress and dancer earning millions.
The conversation then turned to me. The Sassy Princess asked;
“What did you want to be when you were our age?”
I only had two dreams at that age. The main one was to be a footballer playing for Leeds United. The second, if the football dream failed, was to be a lorry driver! I had a romantic idea about travelling around the country and staying in hotels. As a child we always had caravan holidays, so to stay in an hotel was an expensive dream. Most lorry drivers probably sleep in the back of their cabs, but the hotel life was how I imagined it.
“So you did not achieve either of your dreams?” the Prince of Tales bluntly pointed out.
“Well I didn’t no, but I did get paid for playing football!”
And Tale 20 began!
I played semi professional for a couple of years. This earned me £20 a win, and to be honest in the early days, I did not win much. We did improve, but the best I got was probably £100 a month.
What was more interesting and funny were the offers that some Sunday league teams gave me. When I was about 20, a few Bradford Sunday teams wanted to sign me.
The first one to make an offer was a team called ‘Hargreaves.’ They were sponsored by a shop of the same name. It was the most fashionable male clothing shop in the City. They told me that if I signed for them, I would get a 20% discount on any clothing in their shop. This sounded great until I visited the shop. It was so trendy it only had about five folded items in the window, all with no prices. When I walked in I saw a jumper, tag price £200. So basically I would get the jumper for £160.
This was not really for me.
Loud laughter can be heard from the back of the car. The Sassy Princess is finding the story amusing!
“Your current wardrobe contents are not worth £160. Did Primark or the Poundshop not have a team!” She laughed.
I tried not to be offended and politely informed her that neither Primark or the Poundshop existed in those days. I gave her a stern look in the mirror in my Primark shirt and shorts combi bought for me by my wife.
The next team who wanted to sign me were called ‘The Pile Bar.’
(This part I did not tell my children! The Pile Bar was a nightclub / pub in Bradford. It was known as a place where young men could go and meet an older woman. This information was based on gossip from friends rather than personal experience!)
Anyway, the Pile Bar offered to;
1 Pick me up every Sunday from Dewsbury where my parents lived and take me back again after the game.
2 Make me Captain.
3 Pay all my weekly subs.
4 Give me and two friends free entry to the Pile Bar every Friday and Saturday with priority access.
When I told my mates about this they could not believe it.
“This could change our lives! Accept! Our weekends will be brilliant!” was the response from my friends.
So I accepted. My first game was to be on the following Sunday, so my mates and I agreed to go for our first free Pile Bar experience on the Friday before.
We met up at the local pub all looking the business. Suits with luminous thread and thin leather ties were the trend of the day, and this went well with the ‘Chrissy Waddle mullets’ we all sported during the late 80s early 90s.
After a few drinks, we decided to get a taxi to the Pile Bar. When we pulled up, there was a massive queue, mostly women!
“This is going to be amazing” we said in unison.
I was now in full swagger mode. I took my mates past the queue, nodding at the envious punters as I strode past them.
When I got to the front I was stopped by a huge bouncer who looked like he ate raw meat!
“Where do you think your going.” He growled.
“My good man, my name is Richard Clarke and I am the captain of the Pile Bar football team. I am allowed immediate free access to the Pile Bar so please step aside for me and my chums!”
The bouncer did not step aside. Instead, he beckoned me forward so he could speak quietly to me.
“My good man, I don’t care if your ruddy Bobby Charlton, you get to the back of the queue and pay like everyone else you tos***.”
There was a menace in his voice which suggested I would not be fit to play on Sunday if I argued the point.
My mates and I had the walk of shame as we past the queue again, mumbling “We did not want to go on anyway!” as everyone waved ‘bye bye’ to us, smirking and giggling at our failure.
My mates wanted to know what went wrong. I said there was obviously a misunderstanding. They queued up to go in. I said I would contact the manager to find out the issue. I didn’t. I returned home, struggling to cope with the shame!
I played for and captained The Pile Bar for two years, but never attempted to enter the Nightclub again. The manager said it was sorted but I decided it was not my scene!
I turned round to The Sassy Princess and the Prince of Tales. There was not even a small grin!
“Who the heck is ruddy Bobby Charlton!” she asked.
“A footballer” I said, “Like Alan Shearer?”
More silence
“Like Thierry Henry?”
More silence.
“Like Lionel Messi?”
At last, acknowledgement from the Prince of Tales.
“Is he a football man?” He asked.
Note to self. Don’t tell a football tale to two children who have absolutely zero interest or knowledge of the game as it’s a waste of a good story!
Have you ever been humiliated in public in front of a large group of people? Let me know, it’s not much fun!
Nothing like your tale Richard apart from being at the Guide Training centre Waddow Hall at Clitheroe and I had lesther soled shoes and the stairs were wond and I fell down them and did the same when I went to Gloucester College - looking like a stupid person and my knee never was ok until at the age of 65 I had my knee replaced Emily
ReplyDeleteWe live and learn lol
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