Everybody says you should never meet your heroes. I disagree.
I’ve met three of my musical idols: Ronnie Wood, Jimmy Page and the late, great Lemmy.
Ronnie Wood signed a print of his self-portrait for me when I went to his Decades exhibition at the Katherine Hamnett gallery in the 1980s. I must have looked a bit out of place (suit and tie, I was on my dinner break from work) and he came over for a chat. Maybe he thought I was security! When I said I was a massive Faces and Stones fan we had a good old natter. He seemed as bored with the fashionistas and hype as I was. Some 30 years later that signed print is still on the wall at home and would easily pay for two years’ season tickets were I to sell it. As if. Top bloke.
Jimmy Page lived near a place called Standford in Hampshire in Aleister Crowley’s old house. Headley Grange, I think. The villagers held a barbecue event every year featuring a tug-o-war across the river ford. There was I in the hog roast queue with Jimmy Page discussing The Blues and if he could join me in the rope-tugging. He bottled it in the end, but what a gentleman.
As for Lemmy, well that was Motorhead’s first gig at The Marquee in Wardour Street in 1975. He asked if we were “holding anything”, discovered we weren’t clutching anything other than pints of lager, introduced their guitarist and stayed with us for 20 minutes or so. Teenage hard rock heaven.
Footballers aren’t so bad either. I can honestly say I’ve never met one I didn’t like.
Reeling off the NCFC list is easy: Gunny (It’s hard to think of anybody who hasn’t met him), Darren Eadie, Mike Milligan (they combined to open my mate’s sports shop, called JB at the top of Gentlemans’ Walk – long gone), Flecky, Ian Crook, Adam Drury, Mike Walker, Mendy, Neil Adams, Elliott Bennett, Russell Martin, Spearo. And Tim Sheppard who got my ankle ligaments back for me. My trips to Grove Walk flashed by – as many anecdotes about cricket as football. Thanks Tim, I think I still owe you a fiver
I never got to meet my absolute heroes: Dale Gordon or Darren Huckerby. You can’t have it all, of course.
Sometimes though, you don’t always meet players where you might expect to.
Many moons ago I had my daughter holding my hand and my son in a pushchair outside Debenhams. Who strolled by in a virulent purple and green shellsuit? Ruel Fox. We had a great little chat and he was so nice with the kids it was unbelievable.
Before that bypass was built I had to drive back from anywhere I ever went for work via Carrow Road, and that’s where I ‘met’ Foxy again. This white VW Golf convertible had been tailing me for seemingly ages with rap so loud it was almost drowning out my Iron Maiden. As we pulled up side by side at the lights the occupants looked over. Foxy in the passenger seat and Lee Power driving. I just waved my scarf out of the window of the Mondeo and got two great thumbs-ups.
I’ve seen Wes and Holty on the road too – polite waves in both cases for the NCFC sticker on the back of the MX5, I guess.
Away from the Norwich City lads now, if you please.
John Radford. A big old unit who played for Arsenal and ended up at Bishop’s Stortford. I was invited to his opening night as a publican at The Greyhound in Thaxted, and a wonderful old building it was. The first thing you saw was a bongo drum on a window shelf with a sticker on it saying: “My name is Spurs. Please beat me, the Arsenal always do.” Unfortunately my Gooner mate Dave who I took along for the ride misplaced the location of the Gents and walked upstairs. A throaty Yorkshire accent suggested Dave was “after his missus” and threatened to chuck us out. Considering I was sports editor of the local paper at the time, we left anyway. Cheers, Smiffy.
Ruud Krol. I served him a pint of lager. That Ruud Krol and he had a couple of Dutch international team-mates with him when he came into my mate’s pub, where I worked a very pleasant second job for many years. Turned out he was over for a wedding and had known my publican pal Bob for ages. Did he get a little hero-worship from the very many assembled beer boys? Yes indeed.
Bobby Moore. When I walked home from school in Essex, Bobby could sometimes be spotted with a hosepipe washing down his lipstick red Jaguar XJ6 on his massive driveway. He would always give us a wave and once he came over and spoke to our little lot. Cooler than the coolest of cool. I cannot remember a word he said, but I have spoken with England’s World Cup winning captain.
Graham Taylor. I reported on Harlow Town’s epic FA Cup adventures in the early Eighties – they beat Southend and Leicester after replays on their primitive Sportcentre pitch, eventually going out 3-4 at Vicarage Road, Watford. Graham praised Harlow to the hilt, gave me some great quotes and was a very nice man indeed. Unlike a famous BBC commentator in a thick furry coat, who wanted us to shut up so his TV crew could take over. Deadlines, I suppose.
David James. I met him while taking photographs at a Company Golf Day at The Belfry Golf Course near Warwick. He was there to do an interview for MotD and spent what seemed like ages talking with my colleague Amanda and myself afterwards. I took a couple of pictures of her with him and as a Manchester lass she was “well made up”. The photos made boyfriend Pete a bit jealous, which might have been her objective!
And… Sir Alex Ferguson. A photographer I worked with a lot who sometimes played golf with Sir Alex at Mottram Hall in Cheshire persuaded him to officially hand over the keys to a minibus for The Royal Schools for the Deaf in Cheadle Hulme near Stockport that the Company I worked with had raised the funds for. He was “booked” for 10 minutes but spent nearly two hours with the kids, parents and staff. Every child there had a secondary disability also and it was a great cause. Top, top man and while I will never find any affection for Manchester United, Sir Alex Ferguson will always have a place in my heart. As will Fletch the cameraman.
I’ll be back after the Brentford match with the sharpest of teeth reset in both upper and lower jawbones. Even if I have to borrow them from the dog.
* Any brushes with the famous – NCFC or otherwise – you’d like to share? There’s a comment box awaiting *
I once captained Martin Peters in a cricket match! We were playing Herongate in Essex and because it rained all morning only seven players turned up. I won the toss and batted hoping that some teammates would turn up late. I had to open the batting and when I was out I saw our club president chatting with Martin who was there to see Brian Dear (ex West Ham). Between us we persuaded him to play (he had whites in his car). He scored 26, fielded in the covers and saved another 20 or so runs and we finished with both teams tied all out on 96.
A great match and Martin stayed and talked with everyone for ages after the game. A really friendly gentleman with time for everybody and it is so sad to hear of his illness. I wish him all the best for one of my sporting highlights. Martin Peters called me Skipper!
#1 Wanstead Canary: that probably tops me! Some of my Chadwell Heath junior school mates went on to Wanstead Grammar, my grandmother is buried in ELC and I used to use The Nightingale during the early 1980s on the way back from playing at Hackney Marshes.
I seem to remember a guy called Fred who ran The Cuckfield too, but it was a long time ago.
I had a spinster aunt who lived in a massive old Edwardian house on – I think – Overton Drive. And Wanstead Flats, well… I cannot imagine what it’s like there nearly 40 years on!
With all the NCFC stuff that’s going on just now I never expected too many comments on this piece but thank you for yours!
Wanstead Canary (1): My only surprise, knowing Peters, is that he didn’t stroll on and score a century. A class sportsman and a class person.
Martin’s right: almost every footballer you actually meet turns out to be decent. Russell Martin is a particular gent.
Ken Brown bought me a pint and had a chat at a meeting of the Norwich City independent Supporters meeting at If memory serves me correct the lakenham leisure centre. What I do remember with clarity was that it was the Sunday after our 5-0 drubbing by that lot at Portman Road back in 1998. The pint was much needed! Ken Brown, lovely bloke.
#3 Stewart Lewis: Russell Martin is one lovely bloke. One of the reasons I disapprove of the stick he gets from some people on other websites is that however well – or not – he plays for us on any given day he is nevertheless exceptionally articulate and a real pleasure to spend a couple of minutes with.
He’s recently moved house with his young family and seems in Norfolk to stay, and I for one am glad.
I’d certainly put Elliott Bennett in the same category. Just a genuinely nice man.
Perhaps I’ll revisit this topic when things concerning NCFC are a little more on the calm side.
#4 Neil Pearce: I never met Ken Brown, but my father did when KB played for West Ham. I think they met in a pub in East London in 1964 – on the evening of the day the Hammers had beaten PNE 3-2 at Wembley.
I was only seven or so but I think my Mum said my Dad had “had a few” – unusual for him, he was a Police Officer, but I knew what the phrase meant – and I should go to bed.
I was probably allowed to watch Doctor Who or something like that first.
We used to have so many connections with West Ham and Tottenham it was almost unreal. Not any more.
Interesting piece Martin; one that I’m, unfortunately, barely able to contribute to. My only brush with NCFC royalty came in the Mustard TV studio when Dean Ashton was the expert and I was the fan/writer; both of us bald but only one of us eloquent and knowledgeable.
I just mumbled.
Although born in Gt Yarmouth, I lived in Yeovil in the 70s and amazingly Yeovil Town, still in the Southern League at the time, arranged a couple of friendly testimonial games for one of it’s long serving players, (Terry Cotton). One game was against Wolves, the other Norwich. Needless to say which one I went to! At half time, sitting in the bar was the legendary Dave Stringer (injured for this game, I think I remember he had a black eye,) along with Trevor Howard, recently transferred to nearby Bournemouth. I announced myself as a City supporter, probably the only one in the ground that chilly night and he thought I’d traveled from Norfolk for this very nondescript fixture! I explained that I was currently living and working in Yeovil and he bought me a drink and we had a good chat. It transpired that I knew his brother, which I did know anyway and he knew my Father.
My wife, who had remained outside, questioned why I had been so long, didn’t believe my story until the 2nd half started and Dave looked around and gave us a wave. We moved back to Norfolk in 1977 after the birth of my son and became season ticket holders soon after. Game was a diplomatic 2-2 but meeting Mr Stringer made my night. Thank you Dave, you’re a top man and City legend of the highest order.
I once spotted Dion Dublin on his own waiting for Bryan Gunn in the surrey tavern. It was just after he had retired so I insisted on buying him a pint which he graciously accepted. We had a quick chat but then gunny arrived so I left them to it. They weren’t in there for long and Dion waved his goodbyes and thanks. Next time I went to the bar double d had already put one salt for me and I just had to collect. Top man Dion. How we could do with you now!
Pele launched a video game (as they were then called) at a Press bash at Highbury in the early 80s. After all the speeches etc, he signed photographs of himself. All the journalists broke the unwritten professional code by joining the queue. I didn’t feel embarrassed, though. The guy in front of me in the line was Pat Jennings.
Had the misfortune to encounter Paddy Crerand at Liverpool St station late 70s. He’d obviously just missed his train and was spitting foul mouthed bile at anyone in earshot, which was quite a lot of decent people and children.
I think he’d retired by then and was probably off to Portaloo Rd where Man U were playing that day. Goodness that brings back far distant memories if Town were in the top flight!
However, I didn’t technically meet the man, but I was only a couple of yards away and believe me, at that moment it was certainly close enough!