Football and Rugby

On a bright Saturday morning I met up with Paul, Clive and Stan for an under 12s rugby fixture at the newly relocated Gillingham Tech – a stroll in the sunshine for us Twydall boys, to Pump Lane, though it wasn’t such a stroll on the pitch. As usual we lost, the star of the show on this occasion being Keith Larkins, a speedy kid we'd known at Twydall Juniors.

Our interest in rugby ended on the final whistle as, on a nearby pitch, a football match between the schools’ senior sides was still in progress. Seeing Geoff Bray in action for us was the main attraction but the Tech had a rising star too, in Dick Tydeman. 

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At school, the lower school (first and second years) inter-house football competition was held as the winter sports season drew to an end. Playing proper matches with boys a year older was something different, yet there was no glory for Gordon House. No shame either, to lose narrowly, but low scoring matches didn’t tell the story of a twenty five minute lunchtime onslaught.

Following one such onslaught a cocky Nowell team were full of themselves in the changing room afterwards. Not least Brian Lack, Raymond Wright and Trevor Hickson. As our first lesson that afternoon was double PE, which meant football or rugby, they reasoned there was little point in us getting changed. We’d toddle off to registration, and then come back. As rational as it sounded, I wasn’t so sure but the 1A2 lads agreed and when everyone took their boots off and slipped their shoes on, I did the same.

Mister Potts blew his top when he saw us sitting at our desks in football kit. With cries of ‘how dare you!’ ringing in our ears, we returned to the changing rooms a bloody sight faster than we’d anticipated for a lighting quick change into uniform, then dashed back to class for registration. Then, of course, it was back to the changing room to get changed into football kit again. Phew!

The 1A2 boys laughed when we told them what happened. They’d had no such trouble. Reporting for registration in football kits presented no problems to them or their form teacher, Mrs Chamberlain. A PE teacher herself, she often strolled around the school in her green tracksuit.

Remember these shirts?

And these socks?

Though the non-sporty types thought nothing of trotting out onto a football pitch in T shirts and ankle socks, the aspiring footballers amongst us owned shirts and socks just like these. At a time when team kits were plain and simple, the interchanging of a second strip allowed us to play in the colours of half the teams in the league. The downside was every sock in every sports shop came with two white stripes… and Manchester United socks didn’t have white stripes.

Stripes on my socks weren’t the only thing I had to put up with. Mam must have found the only sports shop in Gillingham that stocked a red shirt that didn’t come with white cuffs and collar. The one she bought was red all over, a deep dark red. Like many a good son I smiled and said thank you, and tried to pretend I wasn’t choked to receive the wrong shirt in a size big enough to see me through to the fourth year.

A blue shirt with the white cuffs and collar – the shirt of Gillingham FC – was the shirt most commonly seen at Upbury. My mate Clive had one and so did Trevor Hickson. Besides being a good footballer, Trevor was a scruffy git who always had his socks around his ankles. A left footer who was quick off the mark, Trevor sent many a right footed dribbler flying through the air when he pounced from behind and planted his heel in front of the ball.

Another owner of the blue shirt was my mate Kevin, who impressed me when he sent off somewhere for a Chelsea badge and got his mum to sew it on his shirt. A blue cotton printed square, it was the first club badge I’d seen. Too bad he had white shorts instead of Chelsea blue, but Kev’s preference for high sided rugby boots suggested he wasn’t really committed to football. Rugby brought the inner gladiator out of Kev and other chubbies, like Richard Pascall, and gave them a chance to shine. It also gave them the chance to avenge the humiliations they suffered on the football pitch. Bastards.