"We had a field at the back our house in Bolton"

    

"At the back of our house was a football field. It belonged to Canon Slade School. It was a full size pitch, with proper goal posts . This didn't interest us, we could make our own goal posts, what mattered is that it was great for a game of football . We were all junior school age,different ages,different sizes,different abilities,all boys and all there to play football. Teams were picked by the captains, we knew who they were ,they were the best players . Nobody was jealous, they were the best and that was the way it was .You wanted good guys on your team , it was a team game , we all understood that. The two captains took it in turn to pick. Obviously they went for the best players first, I was never picked first ,or last, but it didn't matter we all understood.Whether you were picked first or last ,whether you were good mediocre or bad you still had a chance of winning, sharing in the glory.The team respected everyone, if a side was on top the poorer players were set up for a goal. If the teams were one sided a swap round would take place.No adults, no referee,no off sides ,we all got it and played for hours . I say no off sides but to be called a titty liner was the ultimate insult . Nobody liked a titty liner . Late tackles were laughed off, shoulder charges were fine ,shirt pulling was allowed,and dead legs or one in the balls got a crowd round as the recipient basked in a masochistic glory. We had half time ,drink breaks and a few injuries, but everyone was back the day after.  Obviously there was no spitting biting or pulling hair, there wasn't even much bad language . I really did believe my Mum would wash my mouth out with soap and water."

"Left footed "

"Things changed at senior school. We had teams and managers and referee's. I always knew my role in the game . I was a defender stocky and well built, using my size and weight to block the more skillful whippet like wingers. I had a job to do and they knew it . Come on my patch at your peril. I hated going past the half way line , and would always pass despite frantic calls for me to keep going. I kept getting picked. I got no coaching and no praise , but I was always picked . It all ended when I got into a conflict. He was the same build as me and about as skillful, certainly not good enough to skip past my late tackles, but he wanted to score goals and I was in his way. He retaliated to one of my over zealous shoulder charges.There was a big fuss!!. He went onto be head boy , I wasn't picked again . Never mind , there were plenty more interests to pursue at 14 . My football career was over."

Richard Mason

"Top Football moments No.1" "Who the f*ck*n hell are you "

" I was very young, I had been to games before but never a night match, and never a game with such a large crowd . I was mesmerized by the flood lights and marveled at how green they made the pitch look . We took our place among the crowds in the Embankment End.  BWFC vs MCFC , it was a cup match . I can't remember the result but I am sure we won. I am only interested in what I can remember , sure I could get the details on the internet but all that information at our finger tips can make things dull . I know there were goals and I also know there was trouble . At one point a big black hole appeared in the Lever End . A no mans land , I could see Police . The chant went up ."Who the f*ck*n hell are you ,who the f*ck*n hell are you , who the fu*k ,who the fu*k  , who the f*ck*n hell are you , who the f*ck*n hell are you, who the fu*k who the fu*k who the f*ck*n hell are you  , hell are you , who the f*ck*n hell are you !" It was deafening , like the whole stadium was singing. Except of course us.I looked up to my Dad , and suddenly a feeling of total joy came over me . Holy sh*t , Holy smoke , Holy everything . His hands were in the air and his mouth was moving . I couldn't hear, it was so noisy , but I could lip read , he was singing "who the f*ck*n hell are you,who the  f*ck*n hell are you". I raised my arms clapping , I didn't sing , how could I ? but my Dad was singing . I was so proud . The chant changed . It was now . " Your going to get your  f*ck*n head kicked in , Your going to get your  f*ck*n head kicked in ,". I glanced up and he had stopped singing , he  looked down and smiled. I was glad he had stopped . It was such a good night !"

Richard Mason