A Cockney's Journey (38 page)

    “You presume right, young man, what can I do for ya?” I asked him.
    “My name’s Ron White and I represent Queens Park Rangers Ladies Football club. We’ve been let down on a ground for this season and we’re desperate to find a base. I’ve been to every club in the area, you are our last hope. Have you by any chance got any room for another team?” he asked. He looked really stressed out.
    
Well well,
I thought,
have I got room for my beloved QPR
? The thought of seeing blue ’n’ white hoops running over my pitches swayed my answer.
    “It’s your lucky day, Ron. Come into the club for a coffee and we’ll discuss it,” I said, gesturing him towards the club’s entrance.
    Ron followed me into the clubhouse; I noticed the smile on his face as he approached the bar.
    “I don’t believe this, you’re an R’s supporter,” he chuckled with glee while he scanned the photos all around the bar. “Blimey, that’s an old photo of Stan Bowles and Rodney Marsh. Ahh, those were the days,” he smiled.
    While he played ‘name the player’, I made two mugs of coffee and returned to the bar, holding the club’s fixture diary.
    “How long have you supported QPR, Eddie?” he asked.
    “Since I was eleven. Long time for continuous punishment. Mind you, Ron, we all have our crosses to bear and QPR are mine, amongst other things,” I laughed.
    I sat down and flipped through the diary, picking dates and times for Ron’s ladies.
    “I can offer you fourteen dates, from September ’95 till May ’96. Would that be enough for your team?” I asked him.
    “Superb, Eddie. You’re a life saver, mate. I don’t suppose there’s any room during the week for training?”
    I glanced through the diary, pondering for a moment. After juggling round a few bits ’n’ bobs, I said to Ron, “I can fit you in Thursdays, from six till seven-thirty, if that helps?”
    “Fantastic. That’ll be just the ticket,” he beamed, feeling really chuffed with himself.
    So the deal was done and monies changed hands: QPR Ladies were now club members of Eltham United FC. Forgive me for feeling over the moon, but this was a serious feather in my cap and I felt elated. After Ron had left I wandered around the ground, taking in the sunshine, feeling pretty good with the way my life had finally started to pay some sort of dividends. This is just the tip of the iceberg, I thought.
    Well, the 95/96 seasons got underway and Sue took over the running of the bar while I looked after all the teams. Edward started his football career playing for the under-twelves, and Eltham United’s Senior side were unstoppable, literally. The club buzzed all week and every week, and as you can imagine, the kids and ladies teams were extremely noisy. This produced a string of letters, complaining about the high volume of noise, especially from the kids. I had meetings with residents and listened to their grievances, but what they wanted was beyond the distance that I would bend. I told them, there was no way I would kick the kids and ladies football teams out from the club, just to satisfy five miserable residents; I then informed them that I would do everything in my power to get the boys to lower their tone on and off the pitch. This was acceptable to four of them; the only exception was the muppet on the corner. He swore that he would bring the club to its knees and get the place shut down. He just wouldn’t listen to me at all; he made it perfectly clear that all he wanted was no activity whatsoever in the ground.
    Anyway, the complaints from him continued; he wrote to the council and the local newspapers, which backfired in his face. The local press ran the story of how certain individuals were trying to close down the club. The picture of a hundred kids from the age of ten to fourteen “looking glum” appeared in the rag with the article. The photo definitely swayed public opinion in our favour and we received letters of support from all and sundry. So, I mistakenly thought that the problem had gone. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have been more wrong. During ’95 he started a smear campaign against me personally, telling lies and giving certain individuals false information on the behaviour of club members and myself.
    November 5th, 1995: firework night at the club. I spent the whole day preparing for the kids’ barbeque, disco and firework display. The evening was a roaring success. So many happy faces, the kids just loved it. I worked hard all night, cooking food and doing the display. The club was heaving, full to the brim, the kids would scream and laugh at the fireworks, while mums and dads had a few drinks, enjoying the barbeque and friendly atmosphere. At the end of the evening after everyone had gone, I started to clear up the spent fireworks and bag up all the rubbish. When I finally finished it must have been close to midnight. After locking the club, I drove out to the front gates. Unbeknown to me, the guy on the corner had called the police and they lay in wait for me. I pulled out of the gates, turning right, but I only got a hundred yards before I got pulled over. I wasn’t worried at all; I only drank three or four halves of lager all night. They were bought for me while I stood cooking the barbeque. Anyway, I had to blow into this bag and the reading was low, so the young copper wanted to let me go. However, the older copper insisted I had to go to the local nick and blow into a certain machine.
    Now what happened next surprised me; instead of taking me to Eltham police station, which was five minutes away, they decided to take me to Orpington, which unbelievably took half an hour. By the time I’d gone through all the rigmarole at the station, I eventually blew into this machine a staggering one hour later. Consequently, the level in my blood stream had just gone over the legal limit and even then certain officers wanted to let me go, except the older guy. So I was nicked for drink-driving and amazingly, after I’d been charged, they let me go and gave me a lift back to the club where I jumped into my motor and drove home! The thought of being stitched up never occurred to me till much later. A few weeks after this, the guy on the corner was at it again. The thick wanker got the club raided by the police over the Christmas holidays; we were shut at the time! I got the call while me, Sue and the boys were at a family party. The guy was obsessed.
    During January 1996, I remember forking and sanding the goalmouths on the main pitch. It was absolutely perishing and my fingers were frozen, due to the icy wind blowing across the pitch. Out of the blue, I saw this guy walking towards me, smiling.
    “Morning. Ya doing a grand job. Mind you, it’s a bit parky for outside work,” he said with a large grin.
    “Yeah, it’s a bit nippy,” I replied.
    “You’ve done a fantastic job here, especially for the local youngsters, but I fear its to no avail,” he sighed, shaking his head.
    “Why’s that?” I asked. I stopped what I was doing and resting on my fork.
    “I think you know the answer to that question. Don’t you?” he turned round and opened up his arms. “All this space will eventually go to waste because of one man and one man only. His obsession with destroying you is formidable.” He said it like he knew the outcome of my battle with the guy on the corner. “Listen to me, Eddie, you’re one of the family and whatever happens, don’t lose sight of that,” he smiled.
    “How do ya know my name? I never told you,” I asked curiously.
    “I know everything, trust me. This is something you have got to go through. The course of events that follow cannot be altered in any way, shape or form. Let’s say, it’s already written.”
     “Who are you? And what do ya mean, ‘one of the family’?” I asked, feeling confused and suspicious.
    “Doesn’t matter who I am; just remember our meeting and keep the faith,” he said, slowly walking towards the car park.
    “Hold on a minute, mate. You can’t just stroll in and out of here, making wild assessments, and leaving me to ponder over everything you’ve just said, without any explanations!” I cried out, as he vanished down the clubs driveway.
    I dropped my fork and legged it towards the club’s entrance. I looked left and right down the street; nowhere to be seen, he simply just vanished into thin air. This has happened on a few occasions, where strangers have walked up to me, and shall we say, given me messages! Anyway, I carried on repairing and drying out the goalmouths, my mind, far, far away, with thoughts of angels visiting me from the spirit realm. The next few weeks flew by and my appearance at court for drink-driving came and went, being banned from driving for a year. The following week was my 40th birthday, which, I was reliably informed was where my life apparently begins. Well, if that’s the case, you can shove it. I’ve never heard such bullshit about turning forty in my life. But, as you do, I arranged a party to celebrate the fact that I was getting older. I actually filled the club up with so-called friends and Sue’s family; it’s amazing how many friends you’ve got when you throw a party, especially when the booze and grub are free!
    During the evening, it became perfectly clear that Sue’s affections lay elsewhere. I tried to keep tabs on the situation and on two occasions caught glimpses of her intended deceit. What really pissed me off was the fact that the prick was married with two kids, and his bloody wife was at my party, totally oblivious of his intentions, dozy cow. I kept schtum, not wanting to spoil the party or get the facts wrong, so I bided my time and waited for them to make a mistake, which I’m sad to say they did; I’m not going into too much detail, let’s just say I nipped it in the bud and warned him off.
    Meanwhile, Eltham United again had the Premier Division at their mercy; winning the title with four games left to play. The team were also in two cup finals. Daniel was voted player-of-the-year and Stephen young player-of-the-year, both had excellent seasons, as did the whole squad. Now, every year the league would enter the ‘Inter League Cup’ and every year since the league was formed, they got stuffed. The committee would pick a Premier Division manager to act as the league’s team manager; the individual’s task was to pick a squad of players, invariably Premier or Senior One players. However, this year would be different from others, because the committee in their infinite wisdom decided that Eltham United would represent the league. This didn’t go down too well with all the other member clubs, and the news was received with many objections. But the committee stood firm on their decision, secretly knowing if ever they had a chance of winning this prestigious tournament, now was the time. So Eltham United began what can only be described as a memorable and unprecedented end to the season. After securing three trophies, we took part in the Inter League Cup. Eltham United beat leagues from all over London, and only the Turkish Cypriot League stood between the team and the final.
    News of our semi-final place reached the league with mixed reactions. The committee were over the moon, however other clubs secretly prayed we’d get turned over. After a rousing and bitterly fought semi-final, Oliver Suckos’ 90th minute strike sent Eltham United into the final, beating the Turkish Cypriot League 2-1. The players limped off the pitch to rapturous applause and cheering. I must admit that the performance against the Turks was without doubt the greatest and most resilient performance ever by an Eltham United side and that’s saying something, because there’d been a few over the last ten years.
May 26th, Barking Football Club’s Ground, North London:
“Inter League Cup Final vs the Woolwich ’n’ District League.”
    Eltham started brightly, pinning their opponents in their own half for most of the first 45 minutes, restricting the Woolwich league to long-range hopeful efforts, Daniel’s fine effort hitting the bar, while Thomas Deloys was guilty of missing goal-scoring opportunities. Then a beautifully weighted 30 yard pass by Daniel found Oliver unmarked; his thunderous drive hit the back of the net, leaving the keeper stranded, only for the referee to rule the goal off-side. Five minutes later, Stephen’s long throw found Cameron unmarked, his cross found Oliver’s head, who glanced the ball into the net, and this one counted. By this stage, Eltham totally dominated the game. Cameron Shires well-struck volley hit the post and rebounded to Thomas, who hit the bar from six yards.
    One-way traffic till the end of the game. Eltham had secured an unprecedented four timer and remains the only team to achieve such an accolade. I was so proud of Daniel and Stephen’s achievements that it brought a lump to my throat. Unfortunately, my joy for them both turned to disappointment much later in my life.
    During the summer of 1996, the club staged various five-a-side competitions for seniors and kids, which went very well. The biggest tournament, ‘The Eltham Sevens’, attracted all the usual top teams in the surrounding boroughs, who were eager to win our very own tournament. Sadly for them and anyone else who had ideas of lowering Eltham United’s colours, they would have to dream on. The team cruised to victory in the sevens and then won the five-a-side championship. So, over a decade, Eltham United had won a staggering 18 trophies and boasted being unbeaten in their previous sixty-three league and cup games.
    Scintillating stuff, eh? My dream of semi-pro football was still on course; having had visits from the FA and Kent League officials on the suitability of our ground. Certain aspects had to be addressed and introduced and rectified for the club to gain senior status. This wasn’t a major problem and could be easily achieved in the next six months, so I decided to stay with the London and Kent League for one more season, before taking the step up in football, which was planned for 97/98 season.
    Another season got underway, and the club’s rich vein of form continued into 96/97. I found it increasingly difficult getting about; the cost of cabs to and fro was mounting. This caused major rows with Sue; she demanded that I take the bus. So, during the week I reluctantly used public transport and cabbed it at weekends. On quite a few occasions at the weekend, I would order a cab for around midnight and, for some unknown reason, I would be left stranded and have to walk home in freezing cold temperatures. My marriage to Sue was all but over; she used to flirt all the time while working behind the bar and constantly flaunted it in my face, which caused untold arguments and shouting matches. During the month of October 1996, Sue and me had a serious bust-up. The argument started over constant phone calls during the evenings. Every time I answered the phone, the other party would hang up. Whenever she was in my company, she’d switch her mobile off. I knew what was going on, but I had no proof. So I decided to call her bluff by packing my suitcase.