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Couldn't help but notice at Hull last Saturday what a nattily attired away following we had.
All manner of sartorial styles were on display...double denim with beanie, neo-Mod, retired raver...and even amongst those who went for more trad terrace clobber, the selections were choice (eg a dizzying array of retro tops; and those who opted for Stoney clearly had an eye for the deeper recesses of that brand's catalogue cave).
Put this on my Facebook, but thought I'd share it here.
Stan Bowles defines QPR.
Have we always played with his carefree swagger? Of course not. But for us fans, it forever remains the aspiration, the dream, the benchmark, however often we fall short.
He wasn’t a local lad. Neither was he a one club man (tho we undoubtedly had his prime years). But he got us, and we got him. After plying his trade in, with the greatest of respect, the footballing outposts of Crewe and Carlisle, in Shepherds Bush he found his tribe and became our Artist in Residence, feeding our football souls.
It was right time, right place. Rodney Marsh had shown us what we could be, he and Alec Stock dared us to dream. Gordon Jago picked up the baton and started to put the final pieces into place (luckily for me, this was just as I hitched a ride with the hooped wagon). Dave Sexton, a point to prove after being jettisoned by the richer lot down the road, would sprinkle on the magic dust that saw little old QPR playing a brand of football never seen before in England. Stan at its apex.
We fell one agonising point short of knocking Liverpool off their perch, and the Stan-inspired, free-scoring UEFA Cup party fell at the quarter final hurdle – on penalties, natch. It’s what we have so often done since (if rarely at such heady heights). And yet Stan remained with us through and beyond relegation a couple of years later. Like us, he stuck with the club despite the alarming decline.
When he did move on, he did so with our love ringing in his ears, all of us wishing him good luck in his quest to “just win a gong.” But Stan and Cloughie? You can see why both parties were tempted by it – but it was never going to work.
I’m not really a believer in football clubs having a DNA that remains ever present through the decades. But they can have narrative threads that reappear with reassuring frequency. For us, it remains the maverick number 10.
For those outside of our W12 cave, it’s Rodney and Stanley, those revered 1970s icons with 1930s names. But for us cave dwellers, it’s also Tony Currie (for a few sweet months, in tandem with Stan), Simon Stainrod, Johnny Byrne, Roy Wegerle, Akos Buzsaky, Adel Taarabt, Eberechi Eze, Ilias Chair. (some of these may on occasion have worn 7 or 8, but that’s not the point). Kevin Gallen didn’t play like a 10, but at a time when the club didn’t employ one, he took the shirt, because as a boyhood fan he understood its significance. Lee Cook, another boyhood fan, was an out and out winger – but as he teased hapless full backs, shirt flopping over his shorts, we saw more shades of Stanley.
Stan’s five measly England caps is just one of many examples of England failing to utilise / understand its many extravagant 70s talents. Stan? He just kept mesmerising defenders, wowing fans, signing two different boot deals at once, and shooting the table on Superstars. Adding technicolour to a monochrome world.
Stan remained a regular visitor to Loftus Road, the twinkle always in his eyes even as Alzheimers took its cruel hold. Never refused a photo request either, as awestruck older fans explained his brilliance and significance to younger pups.
We finally, so belatedly, named a stand after him in 2022. The fans had to pay for the signage. So very QPR. Stan would’ve smirked and shrugged in the same way he did when on the receiving end of banter from opposing fans (who all secretly wished he was playing for their team).
So with Chair so nearly scoring an iconic Rs goal at the weekend, it feels like a good time to feast on superlative Rangers goals of days gone by.
Random rules I'm making up for the hell of it:
- Please don't post Trevor's bicycle kick, Wegerle at Leeds, Gerry's season opener v Liverpool, or Gaz at Rushden - let's dig deeper. - Can we focus on supreme technique or great team moves rather than goals that set pulses racing for their importance (eg Furlong & Zamora play off goals, Robbo from the half way line).
“Integrity is a real big thing for me, and loyalty. You don’t give it to receive it back, but I think if they’re the values you live by then at times when you’re put in a position then you have to be strong by them. “I have been all-in here and I have asked other people to be all-in so I can’t be the first person to run away from the ship. “I don’t think we are anywhere near where I want QPR to be. We have a lot to do so frankly the chance of a bigger pay cheque, magical European nights in Moldova and Estonia and pitting my wits against the Aussie bloke in charge of the Tims (whose belly is even bigger than mine) means I’m all-in at Ibrox. It’s a special relationship I’ve got with the ’Gers faithful. What a club! What an institution!! I still get texted by them daily — after any QPR defeat, it’s been “RU ok Hun?”, a winky emoji, then a voice note of the Billys singing Come Home by James down the Louden Tavern. Of course, I used to coach Gazza futsal in Wallsend, so when the boys in blue used to sing “Micky Micky give us the Sash” I was all-in. I’m looking at January, a few in a few out, obvs Balogun is coming with me — what a player! What a man!! — I’ve got Lulu coming in as she’s nice and vocal on the pitch, you can see the impact she had at Motherweeeeeeelllll; and the young boy Ramsey is coming in to sort the catering. Told ‘im to watch the effin’ and blindin’ though, we have standards here — loyalty, integrity, everyone has to be all-in on that. Will I be bringing any QPR players with me? Look that’s not the way I operate, integrity is a real big thing for me, Les and Lee know that only too well, and knowing Willock’s wages and JCS’s release clause is just me being professional, and I pride myself on being professional at all times. ‘ang on, I just need to take this call….’Stevie? Stevie who?...Stevie Gee? What kinda name’s that?...nah mate, I don’t need an assistant, I’m omniscient y’see…vacancy where? The Bush? Who the hell are they?...oh that tin pot lot, nah mate, I’ve fobbed that one off on Critchley, told ‘im Shodipo and Nico are tearing up the Championship while he’s been away playing with the older boys, and George Thomas is nearly fit too…good luck mate, hope you find a gig somewhere.’ Sorry, where were we? God Save the King.”
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