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They don't make them like they used to, Ron Davies story.


derry
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I met an old pal at Totton v Truro yesterday in the course of conversation Ron Davies came up about his circumstances, operation etc. He told me this story.

 

In the late sixties he played for a junior club in Southampton called Hamwih Town. They were going to Le Havre to play a friendly and have a beery weekend. Cliff Huxford went and played. Ron Davies heard about it and went along for the fun.

 

Ron at the time was at his peak, just about the best striker in the world at the time.

 

The team went to play the match, and were getting changed, Ron had brought his boots and was in the process of getting stripped, the team apparently had great difficulty persuading Ron that there was no way he could play. Much as they would have loved it if he had.

 

Imagine a bunch of young local lads, probably all Saints supporters having the best striker in the world playing for them. Sadly common sense prevailed and a disapointed Ron didn't play.

 

What a man.

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This shows you how not just Ron but other players of that era were 'normal' and were prepared to meet and mix with the fans. I couldn't see many of today's players being prepared to do this. In fact a lot of them seem to be surrounded by an entourage of their own mates and sometimes 'heavies' prepared to intervene the moment their 'star' gets stressed by over indulgent fans. In Ron's day they gave their fans respect and obviously earned it back!

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When I was younger, about 11-12, I used to walk to school on my own. About this time I used to run into a couple of boys who were in the year above and they used to bully me and call me names. It wasn't really physical, until this one time when they tried to push me into a bush. One of them had my tie and was pulling it so tight it was strangling me. I started to feel quite faint when I heard this voice behind shout at the lads. I heard one of them hit the ground and start crying and I looked around and the other was running off. The crying lad got up and ran off too.

 

I looked up to see who the stranger was who had saved me and was surprised to see it was none other than Derek Statham. He looked at my tie and said "Tie's broken, kiddo." I looked down and noticed that they had ripped my tie in half. I started to cry, and through my tears I grizzled to Derek Statham that it was school photo day and that I would get into trouble from the teachers and my mum for having a ripped tie.

 

"Not to worry, kiddo," said Derek Statham, and bent down and pulled one of his shoelaces out of his OWN shoes (remember this was back in the eighties when things weren't quite as cheap) and started to pull threads off of it. When he found a thread that was long enough, he then put his hand to his lapel and pulled off (what I think was, although my memory of it is hazy) a Wet Wet Wet pin badge and fashioned some sort of needle out of the back. He then proceeded to sew up my tie until it was as good as new!

 

As I was now running late, I thanked Derek Statham and went on my way. I looked back and could see him walking away unsteadily on one foot as he didn't have any shoelaces in the shoe! What a great bloke. They don't make footballers like that anymore.

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When I was younger, about 11-12, I used to walk to school on my own. About this time I used to run into a couple of boys who were in the year above and they used to bully me and call me names. It wasn't really physical, until this one time when they tried to push me into a bush. One of them had my tie and was pulling it so tight it was strangling me. I started to feel quite faint when I heard this voice behind shout at the lads. I heard one of them hit the ground and start crying and I looked around and the other was running off. The crying lad got up and ran off too.

 

I looked up to see who the stranger was who had saved me and was surprised to see it was none other than Derek Statham. He looked at my tie and said "Tie's broken, kiddo." I looked down and noticed that they had ripped my tie in half. I started to cry, and through my tears I grizzled to Derek Statham that it was school photo day and that I would get into trouble from the teachers and my mum for having a ripped tie.

 

"Not to worry, kiddo," said Derek Statham, and bent down and pulled one of his shoelaces out of his OWN shoes (remember this was back in the eighties when things weren't quite as cheap) and started to pull threads off of it. When he found a thread that was long enough, he then put his hand to his lapel and pulled off (what I think was, although my memory of it is hazy) a Wet Wet Wet pin badge and fashioned some sort of needle out of the back. He then proceeded to sew up my tie until it was as good as new!

 

As I was now running late, I thanked Derek Statham and went on my way. I looked back and could see him walking away unsteadily on one foot as he didn't have any shoelaces in the shoe! What a great bloke. They don't make footballers like that anymore.

 

I know some people will slag you off for ruining the thread, but it gave me a proper LOL moment

 

:D

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I see your point, which is really why I used the link function. No offence intended. I apologise!

 

I thought you were being subtle. I wasn't being critical of you, just the gulf between the quality of the past we all experienced and the dross playing these days in the Saints shirt.

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I also remember Fred Kemp being a really good guy. Always willing to chat, keen to buy a round, and happy to hang out with fans. Just "one of the guys" and he never came close to "lording it up".

 

And then he'd run his arse off every game.

 

The Steele, O'Neill, Gabriel, Channon bunch were much the same.

 

Cliff Huxford was a great guy as well - kicked the crap out of everyone on Saturday and went to church on Sunday! He was manager of Basingstoke for a while; he wouldn't just chat with you, he'd remember your name as well.

 

The memory of people like this just makes the current game seem all the more hollow and self centered.

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I also remember Fred Kemp being a really good guy. Always willing to chat, keen to buy a round, and happy to hang out with fans. Just "one of the guys" and he never came close to "lording it up".

 

And then he'd run his arse off every game.

 

The Steele, O'Neill, Gabriel, Channon bunch were much the same.

 

Cliff Huxford was a great guy as well - kicked the crap out of everyone on Saturday and went to church on Sunday! He was manager of Basingstoke for a while; he wouldn't just chat with you, he'd remember your name as well.

 

The memory of people like this just makes the current game seem all the more hollow and self centered.

 

You got a mention, Harry and I went.

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I also remember Fred Kemp being a really good guy. Always willing to chat, keen to buy a round, and happy to hang out with fans. Just "one of the guys" and he never came close to "lording it up".

 

And then he'd run his arse off every game.

 

The Steele, O'Neill, Gabriel, Channon bunch were much the same.

 

Cliff Huxford was a great guy as well - kicked the crap out of everyone on Saturday and went to church on Sunday! He was manager of Basingstoke for a while; he wouldn't just chat with you, he'd remember your name as well.

 

The memory of people like this just makes the current game seem all the more hollow and self centered.

 

You got a mention. I went with JFH.

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This shows you how not just Ron but other players of that era were 'normal' and were prepared to meet and mix with the fans. I couldn't see many of today's players being prepared to do this. In fact a lot of them seem to be surrounded by an entourage of their own mates and sometimes 'heavies' prepared to intervene the moment their 'star' gets stressed by over indulgent fans. In Ron's day they gave their fans respect and obviously earned it back!

 

I'm too young - even though I'm now well into my forties,and a miserable bast^rd in my own right- to remember, but I am aware how Big Ron,And John McGrath would happily stand shoulder to shoulder with my Dad and Grandfather getting seriously p!ssed in a lock-in in the 60's.

 

Now of course players would only want to be in exclusive clubs,not drinking with the masses.

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I'm too young - even though I'm now well into my forties,and a miserable bast^rd in my own right- to remember, but I am aware how Big Ron,And John McGrath would happily stand shoulder to shoulder with my Dad and Grandfather getting seriously p!ssed in a lock-in in the 60's.

 

Now of course players would only want to be in exclusive clubs,not drinking with the masses.

 

Although I believe you I find it difficult to envisage someone standing 'shoulder to shoulder' with Big Jake, he was a man mountain! Surely there wasn't enough room at the bar?

 

Oh those were the days!

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I know I am a bit younger But here goes!

My best mates mum used to work in the ticket office at the dell, while she got us good season tickets, my dad used to pick my mate up and take us on a saturday while she was working. Now during the school holidays sometimes we used to go to work with her and go out on the pitch in the afternoon to have a kickabout on our own! (this was when the players still trained on the pitch)

If the players were stiil around they used to join in sometimes, so we had a kickabout with loads of players over the years, Le tiss, jimmy case, Armstrong and my hero Chicken George Lawrence!

This all culminated in the last day of the season after the final whistle going down behind the ticket office and as the players walked past on there way to throwing thier shirts into the crowd, my mate and I getting them all to sign our shirts and programs!

 

Now them were the days!

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I met an old pal at Totton v Truro yesterday in the course of conversation Ron Davies came up about his circumstances, operation etc. He told me this story.

 

In the late sixties he played for a junior club in Southampton called Hamwih Town. They were going to Le Havre to play a friendly and have a beery weekend. Cliff Huxford went and played. Ron Davies heard about it and went along for the fun.

 

Ron at the time was at his peak, just about the best striker in the world at the time.

 

The team went to play the match, and were getting changed, Ron had brought his boots and was in the process of getting stripped, the team apparently had great difficulty persuading Ron that there was no way he could play. Much as they would have loved it if he had.

 

Imagine a bunch of young local lads, probably all Saints supporters having the best striker in the world playing for them. Sadly common sense prevailed and a disapointed Ron didn't play.

 

What a man.

 

 

Hamwih Town. This brings back memories. I played a few games for them in the early 1970's. Seem to recollect they had some decent players and used to drink in the 'Flying Horse' at the back of the Echo Office also the pub by the level crossing at Northam. Sid Pugh was one of the leading lights at the time.

 

I also played against Ron Davies when he turned out for Wessex Hotel in the Soton Sunday League. He played Centre Half then.

 

As normal around the time big Ron was at his peak he liked a drink and the company of the fairer sex and he enjoyed himself to the full in both respects.

 

To be fair the players at the time probably got up to as much mischief as players of today but the pressure on them from fans and the media was far, far less so it is easy to look upon the past with rose tinted glasses.

 

No names, no pack drill, but SOME of the players that I came across in the 1960's/1970's could be quite arrogant whilst others were just ordinary guys with a few extra quid in their pockets (not mega money like today)

 

Going back further my Mum often used to get on the same bus as Dixie Dean when he was the most celebrated goalscorer of the 1930's. The equivalent of a David Beckham or Alan Shearer today as regards profile.

 

Imagine that happening today!!

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Hamwih Town. This brings back memories. I played a few games for them in the early 1970's. Seem to recollect they had some decent players and used to drink in the 'Flying Horse' at the back of the Echo Office also the pub by the level crossing at Northam.!!

 

 

Running Horse opposite the excellent Spa Tavern, great Saturday night boozer for the olders...

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When I was younger, about 11-12, I used to walk to school on my own. About this time I used to run into a couple of boys who were in the year above and they used to bully me and call me names. It wasn't really physical, until this one time when they tried to push me into a bush. One of them had my tie and was pulling it so tight it was strangling me. I started to feel quite faint when I heard this voice behind shout at the lads. I heard one of them hit the ground and start crying and I looked around and the other was running off. The crying lad got up and ran off too.

 

I looked up to see who the stranger was who had saved me and was surprised to see it was none other than Derek Statham. He looked at my tie and said "Tie's broken, kiddo." I looked down and noticed that they had ripped my tie in half. I started to cry, and through my tears I grizzled to Derek Statham that it was school photo day and that I would get into trouble from the teachers and my mum for having a ripped tie.

 

"Not to worry, kiddo," said Derek Statham, and bent down and pulled one of his shoelaces out of his OWN shoes (remember this was back in the eighties when things weren't quite as cheap) and started to pull threads off of it. When he found a thread that was long enough, he then put his hand to his lapel and pulled off (what I think was, although my memory of it is hazy) a Wet Wet Wet pin badge and fashioned some sort of needle out of the back. He then proceeded to sew up my tie until it was as good as new!

 

As I was now running late, I thanked Derek Statham and went on my way. I looked back and could see him walking away unsteadily on one foot as he didn't have any shoelaces in the shoe! What a great bloke. They don't make footballers like that anymore.

 

 

This happened to me just a couple of years back, only it was Nigel Quashie who helped me.

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Just to really take it back-My late Dad used to tell me that Len Shackleton-the most expensive footballer in the thirties when he moved from Bradford Park Avenue to Sunderland, used to live round the corner from Dad (in a nice part of Bradford); and used to catch the same tram as Dad and his mates to the match.

 

Back to Saints, in my youth they used to earn about the same as professionals and act normally. Nick Holmes used to drink in Lordswood with his mates, I remember seeing Mike Channon nearly legless with the rest of the team, when he was only just old enough to drink swearing his head off in a city pub on the eve of a pre-season tour; and the ex Saints used to play charity matches against local league teams.

 

Amazingly even the near collapse of the world economic system doesn't seem to have brought any financial common sense to the Prem, as the latest round of bidding shows.

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FYI The Ex Saints are still going strong

 

Re Len Shackleton, apparently in his autobiography he included a chapter on 'What Football Club Directors know about Football' and left the pages blank.

 

At that time players had to refer to the Directors as 'Sir'

 

Not much change between the 1930's and the current regime at St Marys!!!!

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