I didn’t attain a very high standard in football, but I played the game, primarily in the Swansea Local League, for over 30 years without achieving any material success in terms of trophies. I did win player of the year in 1976 with Bryndeg, and they presented me with a four inch statuette at the annual Christmas dinner held at the Gower Inn. Thank God I didn’t have to make a speech!
Nevertheless, one season stands above all the others in terms of sheer enjoyment, camaraderie, call it what you will. In 1972 I was playing in the reserves for Nalgo, which was an acronym for the union of National Association of Local Government Officers (succeeded by UNISON whatever that stands for) and most of the players worked in The Guildhall, home of Swansea City Council. On the face of it, nothing was expected from the reserves except to provide back-up to the first team when one of their players was injured or unavailable. We were a bit of a motley crew really. The team colors were claret and blue shirts, white shorts and for some unknown reason red socks!
Some of the players were attired in the conventional sense with shirts tucked neatly in their shorts and socks pulled up to the knees, while others including myself wore shirts outside the shorts in a somewhat rebellious fashion, and a couple of the reprobates let their socks dangle around their ankles. Hair styles were complementary to the seventies era and generally bordered on the shaggy side with one or two exceptions in the short back and sides variety.
We may have looked bedraggled, even unkempt, but somehow we clicked as a unit. We won 16 successive games, including a crushing defeat of the first team in a “friendly” by a whopping margin of 4-0. In some matches we were so dominant I would catch myself standing back and marveling at the intricate patterns woven between the midfield and forwards. I kept thinking this is too good to be true and it can’t last; famous last words!
Over the years I have often tried to analyze what made a bunch of nondescript office workers into a formidable football unit. I wish I knew the formula because it was never repeated in any subsequent team I played in. We usually lined up in a 4-3-3 formation mirroring what most professional teams were operating at the time.
On reflection, Brian Hill was the key player in as much he played central midfield, had the energy to go from box to box, could pass short or long, was devastating in the tackle, had the ability to shoot and head the ball, and basically was the complete player. The following season he turned to rugby and was lost to football.
I subsequently met up with him 17 years later in Greece and he downplayed his talent as a footballer and showed more enthusiasm about playing rugby for which apparently I am told from a reliable source he was quite average. I never had a conversation with him until that fateful meeting in Greece, and I found him to be quite bland and definitely did not live up to the personality he portrayed on the football field.
Anyway, I digress. The key to any successful team is the sum of its parts. Let’s break down the components of the team and in doing so I may discover the secret of our success.
Howard Jones was the goalkeeper. He was quite tall, over six feet, which was a reasonable ingredient for someone between the sticks. Furthermore he looked the part. He was always dressed immaculately unlike some of his teammates. Unfortunately he didn’t like crosses (hence the nickname: Dracula) and could remain routed to his line during penalty box melees leaving his defenders to clear the lines.
He was a competent keeper for this level of football and was an amiable and likeable character. He always yearned to play at centre forward which he did occasionally in practice, and if enthusiasm for playing that position could be substituted for skill, he would have been world class.
The back four usually comprised Hugh Jones and myself at full back, Peter Williams/Mervyn Thomas and Tony White at centre back. Hugh Jones was a quiet self effacing personality and a reliable defender. He was slightly one paced and could get caught out of position when he sometimes lost the ball in possession going forward. Peter Williams was team captain and an excellent leader. Despite being deceptively slow he provided controlled aggression while marshalling, cajoling and encouraging his teammates with humor and candor.
Mervyn Thomas was really a first team player who had fallen out with the management over tactics or maybe the length of his hair. He was very laid back, a very good distributor of the ball, and an excellent reader of the game. Unfortunately, he had the tendency to commit some horrific tackles which were unnecessary and overshadowed his natural talent. Tony White was the joker in the pack; not very tall but a great header of the ball. His bravery and determination against the biggest strikers made up for his lack of skill on the ball.
The midfield is the engine room of any football team, and a successful midfield requires balance where the players need to complement each other. The midfield comprised Brian Hill who has already been mentioned, Stuart Button and ken Rees. Stuart was very skilful, as strong as a bull and possessed a shot like a cannon. His one weakness was a lack of pace which he usually overcame by a keen positional sense. Ken Rees was the introverted member of the trio. Nevertheless, he provided the bits and pieces that go largely unnoticed which allowed his team mates freedom to express themselves.
The three strikers comprised Steve Kucyk, Andrew Walker and Rob Byrne. Steve and Andrew played out wide and provided a contrast in terms of style and appearance. Steve, looking like a hairy hobbit, played on the right and was very tricky and fast. His low center of gravity made it difficult for defenders to shake him off the ball. Andrew, who resembled a lanky Clark Kent with shoulder length hair, hugged the left touchline and was all knees and elbows. He was very unpredictable which on his day made him very effective.
Basically they played as natural wingers and provided a string of crosses while scoring many goals themselves by invariably cutting in from the flanks. Rob Byrne led the line superbly. He could hold the ball up when necessary and lay it off for the midfield men coming through ‘the old-fashioned’ inside forward positions. Significantly, all three front men were in double figures for goals scored at the end of the season closely followed by Stuart Button.
We played very attractive football which was noticed by one of the eight spectators and his dog who normally attended our matches. Paul Roberts was involved in some charity work and he invited us to play in a charity match one Sunday in January against a Representative eleven selected from the West Wales League. I was little nervous having to play against some of the best local footballers in the area and I thought we would be out of our depth. I needn’t have worried because we played them off the park and won comfortably 5-2 on a playing surface that resembled a skating rink.
We didn’t win the league, we didn’t win any cups and outside this innocuous article we didn’t receive any recognition from our peers. We didn’t train together; we didn’t socialize with each other apart from one or two friendships. Occasionally I would bump into a couple of the other players in the office during the week and exchange a cursory nod, but the only time the team came together would be in the dressing room on match days. Many Saturdays there would be drama in the dressing room when the captain would take a head count and realize we didn’t have a full complement of players and kick-off was imminent. On a couple of occasions, we were forced to take the field with only eight or nine players until the stragglers eventually entered the fray a few minutes into the game.
The season ended far too quickly and we went our separate ways. During the summer Tony White and I attempted to keep the team together, but two or three of the players had signed for other teams and the moment was lost. I know in some quarters that team chemistry is dismissed as being over valued, but in this case “chemistry” is the only explanation for eleven office workers coming together on a Saturday afternoon and performing like a well oiled machine.
My one regret was my dad never saw the team play. It was partly my fault because I never invited him to any of the games because he was a good player himself and I was afraid I wouldn’t live up to his standards. Furthermore he never offered me any praise for any accomplishments that I achieved.
My wife assures me that her dad was exactly the same; that men of their generation were reluctant to reveal their softer side less it was mistaken for a sign of weakness. If he was still alive he would have said enough with this sentimental posturing, so let’s finish on a positive note. He did tell me once in front of the family that I could open a bottle of champagne better than anyone which was praise indeed! Mine’s a pint of bitter if you please.
