Howdy Doody and a Happy New
Year to all my footballist pals in England. My
studies at the Technosoccer Department of the
University of Soccer, Downtown Illinois has
prevented me from penning any articles recently
for your Head, but over the Xmas period (or
Neuchatel as it is known in Switzerland)
I’ve found some time to investigate what
exactly goes on during the mid-match recess.
(Apart from soccerites visiting the comfort
stations that is).
In the States, we have always put
the supporters entertainment at the top of the
list. However, performances by Barry Manilow,
Michael Jackson and Michael Bolton have
undermined this somewhat. Men flying in with
jet-packs, Mickey Mouse strutting his stuff and
laser shows are all very well as far as the
Olympics are concerned, but I’m sure that
you’d all agree with me that the sight of
Diana Ross shooting as wide as that chap in the
hilarious Danny Baker/Alan Hansen/Neil
Morrissey/Nick Hancock/Des Lynam videos from the
penalty spot is what we want to see more of. Yes,
superstars of the world of entertainment
humiliating themselves in front of thousands of
footballing followers.
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| I heard that in the old days in the UK, that
“half-time”, as you call it, used to
include dogs from the Police or armed services
jumping through flaming hoops. This seems a
barbaric treatment of dumb animals. In the U S of
A we reserve this feat for humans on motorcycles.
However, an interesting development on this theme
took place at the Scarborough v Hartlepool Auto
Windscreen Northern Group Qualifying Elimination
Round 5th round 2nd leg match in the 1989-90
season. A Pro-Celebrity dog assault course
challenge was held on the pitch to provide some
interest for the 45 fans before the match
resumed. This turned into a farce as the dogs
were as disinterested as the audience and the
winners ("Police Stop Action” frontman
Alistair Stewart and Max the Alsatian - pictured
opposite) only completed 73% of the course before
succumbing to the foul weather conditions, which
claimed the lives of three dogs and Bernard
Manning. |
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| Animals tend
to feature strongly in British half-time
entertainment. Another flopped idea was
of a Falconry display. This involved
filmstar Simon McCorkindale, who in his
spare time keeps hawks in a small cage at
the end of his garden in Rochdale. The
Falconer swings a piece of meat and the
bird flies off to collect it and then
returns to his master’s glove. Well,
that was the theory anyway. Like the ManU
v Spurs soccer match that took place in
the film “Kestrel” (sic) all
hell broke loose when the bird caught the
food and took it high into the rafters at
Highbury and stayed there. It was only
after the break that it again became
peckish (quite literally) and swooped on
the Junior Gooners section to pluck
hot-dogs and hamburgers from the
children’s hands. Calm was only
restored when it was allowed to nest in
Ray Parlour’s hair. |
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| For many of us, the break means an
opportunity for our ears to be cleared of wax by
the wonderful PA system or to wonder if our ears
need de-waxing because we can’t understand
anything coming out of the naff PA. An
interesting diversion was provided in the Welsh
National League (Played Cymru), where to tie in
with their Ibedstead they invited Druids to take
part in the Welsh National Car Hubcap Throwing
Championships. The title was won by
Lllllllllllllyn
Lllllllllllangelethprosetheticleggelly, pictured
here after catching a cap with the back of his
head. |
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Even the much derided, but commonly accepted
shoot-outs involving children from the local
youth leagues have lost their appeal. As players
have become aware that they only have to master
the skill of getting the ball above four feet to
ensure a goal. This sparked a controversy when
outside-left activists at the local council in
Ipswich deemed this to be heightist and outlawed
such contests. They suggested that the rowdy fans
be provided with some more erudite amusement and
so, the Strolling Bones Production Company’s
performance of “Hamlet” was the staple
diet of the Suffolk Punch drunks during the
intermission for the 1975-76 term. |
| We are all familiar with
the fireworks which never fail to
accompany an Ian Wright appearance. No,
sorry, that should have read, a Coca-Cola
Cup Final, but it is little known that
there was a major disaster in 1937 when
Portsmouth were to provide the biggest
display of fireworks seen outside of
China. The manager of the time, Archibald
Colclough, took the instructions a little
too literally and lit the blue touchpaper
and retired, leaving the team without a
head coach. Oh, but if only he had
replaced the lid on the biscuit tin
containing the rest of the fireworks and
the transfer funds for the forth-coming
season. Thus, the team disappeared in a
puff of smoke along with their manager. |
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Strange, but true, some clubs ran a
competition to see which person could play the
smallest replica of a proper musical instrument.
Here we see Henrietta Fortesque with her
mini-cello which was much easier to get between
her legs than the real thing. But, she was put in
the shade by Mickey Morgan and his magic organ,
which was a replica of that housed in the Royal
Albert Hall, but his copy fitted into a matchbox.
His heart-rending version of Aled Jones’
“Walking in The Air” brought a tear to
the eye of many in the crowd at the Vetch Field
that Day. |
| As children and indeed all of us become more
technically aware, the demand for entertainment
of a more sophisticated nature will increase.
Will we all be sitting in our all-sitting stadium
with headphones on listening to artificial crowd
noise and commentary, while during the half-time
we are virtually entertained by the way of a
headset, as opposed to being virtually
entertained by the clowns out on the pitch. Will
Bill Gates become the new Head of CompuSoccer
where you won’t even have to leave home to
experience that wonderful feeling of being beaten
by a bunch of cloggers and then travel back home
in the pouring rain. Only to take off your
virtual helmet to find yourself sitting in your
allotted seat at the ground. Long may we long
for the old days when brass bands played and
Police tenors boomed out their songs; when
pom-poms were things that young girls waved
around to Toni Basil’s “Mickey”,
not what the influx of Aussie soccerists into the
British game refer to their team-mates as; when
ball-juggling was a thing that youngsters did to
show off their skill and not what some players
manually use to show what they think of a
referee’s assistant.
All in all, the provision of half-time fare
has been pretty poor. Playing spot the member
(not literally) of Barry Hearn’s stable of
fighters/snooker players is hardly the most
enjoyable two minutes of your afternoon’s
entertainment, but where would the game be today
if all we had to do was talk to the person next
to you (or indeed, the bloke behind you). For
soccerists the world over know only too well that
the game is the thing. What comes in between can
only be the Spam in your sandwich, the toad in
the hole, the jam in your donut, the wind beneath
my wings.
So, until I write again, may your Spurs be
successful and may your half-times be full of
moaning and groaning.
See you all at the tea-bar for some pastrami
on rye and Cuervo Gold.
WHO ATE ALL THE PAELLA !!
All the best from your soccer loving pal.
Robinson Heath
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