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  • 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"?

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    • I never heard the girls I knew complain about my balls slapping against them, but maybe I've got the wrong end of the stick....so to speak.

      And shouldn't that be Titius Bramble in your case?

    • I played netball at school with leather balls ;-) We weren't allowed to play football - it wasn't considered to be a suitable game for young ladies in my day!!!

    • 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.

    • 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...

    • 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.

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

    • Christ Sfer, I thought I could tell a good story but you have at the very least, equalled mine....I must try harder next time.

      Incidently, just how long is your nose.

    • 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!!

    • My memories of football in my youth was of Sunday morning on Hackney Marshes or in the Wood Green area.
      My first wife, girlfriend at the time, was watching our game in the snow. Freezing cold and her in her fake fur mini coat, just about covering her asre!! Stood right on the touch line and some one just booted the ball clear and it smacked into her thighs. She still came to watch after that, must have been love!!!
      Yes those lovely old leather footballs.

    • 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

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