Wednesday), Basil Acres (Ipswich Town), Ray Bumstead (Bournemouth), Gerry Cakebread (Brentford), Ralph Gubbins (Hull City), Allenby Cornfield (Shrewsbury Town), Harold Threadgold (Southend), Arthur Longbottom (QPR) and Albert Otheringcroft (Gateshead). Football names to be sure, but ones that seem to have leaped straight from the pages of Dickens or Harold Brighouse’s
Hobson’s Choice
.
Recalling those players now, I can’t help wondering whether, if David Beckham or Michael Owen had been blessed with similarly yeoman surnames, would they now enjoy star status? Can you imagine the snack foods, mobile phone, designer eyewear or soft drinks companies scrambling to secure theendorsement of Albert Cheesebrough or Arthur Bottom if they were the star turns of football today? Moreover, ‘Cheesey’ and ‘Bots’ are not nicknames that lend themselves to today’s perceived image of a star. Christian names have always been subject to fashion. Subsequent generations of parents rejected Arthur, Albert and Harold as being simply old-fashioned. But surnames you’re stuck with. Where are the Cheesebroughs, Bottoms, Cakebreads and Otheringcrofts of today? Curiously, not in professional football, nor have they been for some years. Their absence is a small but poignant reminder of the changing fabric of the game.
Another young player also made his mark during my first season at Leicester – Frank McLintock, a Glaswegian signed from Shawfield Juniors. As a young player he combined the toughness of a Gorbals upbringing with a fine footballing brain to emerge as a stylish wing half whose great vision was the catalyst to many a Leicester attack. At twenty-two he had the guile and nous of a much more experienced player. Frank always made himself available to me for throw-outs with his shrewd positioning in midfield. His skilful repertoire of long and short passes, timed and executed to perfection, probed ceaselessly into opposing defences and were an indication of a great player in the making. When Frank eventually left Leicester for Arsenal in 1964, the £80,000 paid for his services was the highest fee Leicester had ever received for a player. Frank’s enthusiasm for football was to play no small part in my development as a goalkeeper, for which I will always be grateful.
Our good form in the new year gave rise to hopes of a good FA Cup run. In the third round we won 2–1 at Wrexham, with goals from Albert Cheesebrough and Ken Leek. (The headline writers were no better then than they are today: ‘Cheese and Leek Give Wrexham Food for Thought’; ‘Wrexham Leek Early Goal then Are Cheesed Off’.) In round four we beat Fulham 2–1 at Filbert Street to set up a fifth-round home tie against West Bromwich Albion – the first ever all-ticket match at Leicester.
Someone had the bright idea that cup tickets would be sold on the turnstiles at the reserves’ Football Combination fixture against Bournemouth. Cup fever had gripped the city and a bumper crowd of 22,890 (obviously a record for a Leicester City reserves match) turned up to see the reserves that day, while I played in front of fewer than 17,000 in the First Division at Luton Town. Apparently the atmosphere was terrific and Bournemouth’s reserves couldn’t believe their luck to be playing in front of such a large crowd. I still think it’s a great way of selling tickets for a big game.
These days many clubs have a sliding scale of admission prices. Prices vary according to the perceived attraction of the opposition or status of a game. Though admission prices are never cheap. A lot of supporters resent paying more to see their club play Manchester United or Liverpool in a cup tie. Hiked admission prices simply annoy a lot of fans who feel their club loyalty is being exploited. To sell tickets for a big game at a reserve match or a League match that would normally attract far less than the ground capacity, seems to me to be a far better way of going about things. First,
Hobson’s Choice
.
Recalling those players now, I can’t help wondering whether, if David Beckham or Michael Owen had been blessed with similarly yeoman surnames, would they now enjoy star status? Can you imagine the snack foods, mobile phone, designer eyewear or soft drinks companies scrambling to secure theendorsement of Albert Cheesebrough or Arthur Bottom if they were the star turns of football today? Moreover, ‘Cheesey’ and ‘Bots’ are not nicknames that lend themselves to today’s perceived image of a star. Christian names have always been subject to fashion. Subsequent generations of parents rejected Arthur, Albert and Harold as being simply old-fashioned. But surnames you’re stuck with. Where are the Cheesebroughs, Bottoms, Cakebreads and Otheringcrofts of today? Curiously, not in professional football, nor have they been for some years. Their absence is a small but poignant reminder of the changing fabric of the game.
Another young player also made his mark during my first season at Leicester – Frank McLintock, a Glaswegian signed from Shawfield Juniors. As a young player he combined the toughness of a Gorbals upbringing with a fine footballing brain to emerge as a stylish wing half whose great vision was the catalyst to many a Leicester attack. At twenty-two he had the guile and nous of a much more experienced player. Frank always made himself available to me for throw-outs with his shrewd positioning in midfield. His skilful repertoire of long and short passes, timed and executed to perfection, probed ceaselessly into opposing defences and were an indication of a great player in the making. When Frank eventually left Leicester for Arsenal in 1964, the £80,000 paid for his services was the highest fee Leicester had ever received for a player. Frank’s enthusiasm for football was to play no small part in my development as a goalkeeper, for which I will always be grateful.
Our good form in the new year gave rise to hopes of a good FA Cup run. In the third round we won 2–1 at Wrexham, with goals from Albert Cheesebrough and Ken Leek. (The headline writers were no better then than they are today: ‘Cheese and Leek Give Wrexham Food for Thought’; ‘Wrexham Leek Early Goal then Are Cheesed Off’.) In round four we beat Fulham 2–1 at Filbert Street to set up a fifth-round home tie against West Bromwich Albion – the first ever all-ticket match at Leicester.
Someone had the bright idea that cup tickets would be sold on the turnstiles at the reserves’ Football Combination fixture against Bournemouth. Cup fever had gripped the city and a bumper crowd of 22,890 (obviously a record for a Leicester City reserves match) turned up to see the reserves that day, while I played in front of fewer than 17,000 in the First Division at Luton Town. Apparently the atmosphere was terrific and Bournemouth’s reserves couldn’t believe their luck to be playing in front of such a large crowd. I still think it’s a great way of selling tickets for a big game.
These days many clubs have a sliding scale of admission prices. Prices vary according to the perceived attraction of the opposition or status of a game. Though admission prices are never cheap. A lot of supporters resent paying more to see their club play Manchester United or Liverpool in a cup tie. Hiked admission prices simply annoy a lot of fans who feel their club loyalty is being exploited. To sell tickets for a big game at a reserve match or a League match that would normally attract far less than the ground capacity, seems to me to be a far better way of going about things. First,
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