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On signing on for Saints
at 11:42 6 Jun 2023

A poem I wrote on signing on for Saints in 1966. Enjoy

Like most schoolboys I was sport mad
and imagined one day to play for my team
a fantasy, an unrealistic hope, a false dream
but I was good and not just keen

So I wtote to my club and asked for a trial
and surprisingly I was asked to come next Tuesday eve
There were 40 of us desperate to impress
the watching scouts, the manager, in me to believe

We returned to the Dell
The home of the "Saints" and four names were called
of the 40 that played that night.
I was one of them to my disbelieve and utter delight

I got a letter signed by the Manager, Ted Bates
that I had become an Amateur with no pay
but told to make myself available to play.
Training Tuesdays and Thursdays, the Southampton way

In those days there were no academy suits
no sponsored kits. no manicured pitches
instead the concrete and tarmnac carpark and gym
where we sweated and stretched every muscle and limb

Grace and elegance was not the art of the pro
well for most it was teancity and will
to withstand the mental and physical
speed of thought against your opponent's skill

Confronted one evening in training in the car park
when tackled by a hardened pro called Huxford
who flattened me to the ground, face first
dazed and bloodied he stood over me unmoved

He was looking for a response, a reaction
would I run away or confront him
Had I got what it took to become a pro
there would be no apology, no retraction

It was not just me but everone that night
floored, bloodied, bruised and sore
discovered what it was to become a pro
If that was sport then for me a no

Only one amateur signed pro forms that year
a lad, ironically from Portsmouth, our fiercest foe
Diminuitive but quick, fearless, but no tricks
went on the score the winner in the cup Final of '76

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goalie66

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