• Tottenham Hotspur Message Board

  • RAMBR0 RAMBR0 Jan 7, 2010 07:46 Flag

    What's All This Then...on pitch wear

    What the hell has happened to my game of football...remember when you were about 8 years old in those frigin "hot pants" that they called shorts...thin shirt socks and your boots playing on a frigid saturday morning for school, on a frosted frozen pitch...(and for some) with the old leather ball with the laces and stiching...you know, the one that would knock lesser souls out cold when it was soaked through on a rainy day.

    Anyway, I paint that picture as a contrast to the long shorts, socks so long they're really stockings...scarves (see that Petrov geezer at Citeh?)...and gloves for crying out loud! And these guys get paid HOW MUCH??? No wonder few of them have any character and grit.

    Any thoughts I do we just chalk it up to another "sign of the times"?

    SortNewest  |  Oldest  |  Most Replied Expand all replies
    • I remember those old leather footballs.
      Weighed a ton when they were wet and damn
      near broke your foot when you kicked it.
      Got one full in the face on a frozen February
      afternoon when i was a kid. Still got the lace
      marks on my face now and im pushing 50.....lol

      • 2 Replies to andrew l
      • If the lace marks were across your forehead, Andrew it would have been a goal.
        H---1" thick shinpads.

      • Do you know what - reading all the comments on here and I suddenly had a smell memory. Do you know what I mean or am I the only one?

        It was as if I was back in the late 60's and walking into the dressing room to the smell of Deep Heat. Throwing my carrier bag with my boots in onto the bench and when I got them out they were frozen solid in a curled up Lawrence of Arabia way. I had to soak them under the hot water tap to "melt" them before I could put them on.

        The smell of that dressing room will, I sincerely hope, never leave me.

    • All that's missing with these guys now, Rambro, is their headphones---so they can hear fuskcing music while they're strutting about.
      H---extremely jealous.

    • Don't know where he's hiding, but I can just picture Essex at right back with his socks rolled down hoofing that ball up-field.

    • Huh - poofs!! I remember one very cold Wednesday night in December 1969 playing on a pitch that was harder than Nobby Stiles. Ruts bigger than the Kyber Pass. Only one floodlight working out of 8 but we still played with tempretures below -20.

      Found myself on the left wing with the ball at my feet. The iced curl on the end of my boots only encouraged me to try out a few tricks that Ronaldo connsequently picked up 36 years later. Went round a young George Cohen as if he was writing to his Mum, then went back and did it again just cos I could.

      Lobbed the centre half, Chorlton or Chiltern I think his name was, and rode a vicious tackle from the covering right back that could have come right out of the guide to following in the Yorkshire Rippers footsteps.

      With only the Goalkeeper to beat I started to relax - slowed the pace to about 28 miles per hour, smoothed down my long flowing locks ready for the phalinx of photographers that would of course want to record this famous goal for prosperity and waited for the goalie to make his move.

      He rushed out like Dawn French trying to get to the buffet bar. I waited, held my nerve, slipped to one side as his 21stone frame hurtled past and gently rolled the ball towards the goal. It bobbled over the ruts, skewed to the left on a particularly nasty frozen dog mess and went in off the post. The crowd went wild as you would expect. If we had had a decent keeper ourselves we would never have lost that game 9-1.

      The whistle blew and I had to fight my way through the crowd to take the ice cold bath that all 22 players jumped into as if it were the Carribean. Beano, our Captain, had to wear an old sock over his manhood to protect the stiches put in after our last match against The Woodcutters Arms - nasty bast4rds they were.

      Oh the good old days!!

    • That's nothing!!!!

      I remember a muddy day in the late seventies after I moved from midfield to centre half, I tackled their inside left in my own area, brought the ball out to the half way line, beat 3 defenders to find myself 5 yards outside the left hand corner of their penalty area. I too had absolutely nothing on......everybody thought I was a streaker (maybe that's how I beat the three defenders) I looked up and saw their keeper off his line, so I chipped him in Hoddle fashion and stood there hands on hips, triumphant and watched the ball drop under the crossbar.

      My team mates went wild, the crowd went wild, even the ref wanted my autograph.

      And to this day, I only have to walk into the pub and they are lining up to buy me a drink.

      Mind you, I haven't a clue what the keeper's name was.

    • He's lying, B2S---I was there. His shot trickled against the post and went out for a goal kick.

    • 10" B2S. Oh sorry you said nose....as in Pinochio presumably but I am not ashamed of that. The girls loved a 69 with him mate.

      You fell into my trap there H cos if you had been there you would have noticed that I toned it down in my previous post and in fact you would have seen the shot scream in off both posts and through the net almost wrecking the "All Beef Honest" burger bar next to the car park.

    • I remember an ankle deep muddy day in the 70's when I controlled the ball 48 yards out at the Vic. There was nothing on so I said fuskc it. Scooped the ball up and cracked a beauty, it hit the underside of the bar and crashed into the net. Their keeper was struck in horror with the bar shaking and that. Jim Montgomery was the guys name.

    • Too funny...haven't got a story like that...did crack a 30 yard left footer just under the bar (I'm not left footed)...but that was here in the US...don't count...what do they know eh (club team)...that said you could always get a good game in the Kearny/Harrison, New Jersey area...still something of a East Coast hotbed of young talent...and where the NY Red Bulls (bloody cheek calling themselves New York!) have put up a new stadium to be opened next season (I have to go just because its practically on my doorstep...in US terms that means its less than 20 miles away). If the game isn't up to snuff however, I'll walk out at half time (Walked out before the game when they played a "doubleheader with the England - Colombia international a few years back...the MLS made a mistake and put the international on first...I looked back as I filed out and the stadium (70,000 seater) was practically empty. So much for football (the kicking kind) in America

    • Haha all these talks of old leather balls, cant honestly say iv ever kicked one! We had 'floaters', the plastic things that curved in 15 directions when kicked.... Awful! Then, and im sure this will make the leatherball kickers laugh, they got banned from my school (junior school btw) becuase too many girls complained about being hit with them! They were replaced by school bought 'elephant skin' balls, they were like a soft leather thing with that seemed to be stuffed rather than filled with air. Coulnd't blast them and they were soggy and useless in the rain! Mind you i did convert into the best defender in school, i was quite big for my age and i used to literally stand on the ball and let them run into me, when theyd fall over id hoof it forward....... i was touted as the next titus bramble...

    • View More Messages