‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ Quilty’s Football Yarns 4 Round’ the flats

‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ Quilty’s Football Yarns 4

Round’ the flats

As people will often be heard to say today, we played out until it was dark and our parents called us in. Living in large blocks of flats you might think that there would be confusion with the calls but most kids parents had a distinct bellow or whistle that demanded the kids roll home. We sometimes played over Vicky Park but more often just down to the ‘pitch’. This was a tarmac floored 40 yard space hemmed in by brick walls with a one foot ledge down one end. No one took any notice of the ledge, it was just part of the game, we adapted. As player I was never what could be termed a ‘tackler’. Looking back I know why I went that way. The ‘pitch’ was not only tarmac but always seemed to have broken glass somewhere on it. Thus, balance and staying on your feet became all important, few people sliding in on that treacherous ground.

Going to a small primary school, Lauriston in South Hackney, meant that it wasn’t that difficult to make the school team. We ended up with a multi age side ranging from fourth year to sixth. I probably took four main things away from playing football in those early years. One, never volunteer for anything! I’d foolishly put my hand up to go in goal one game and spent what seemed like an eternity praying the ball would not come down our end. Obviously, god had not been listening up there because shots few past me with alarming regularity to make us 0-4 down. Then unbeknown to myself, I charged out diving at the feet of an oncoming attacker collecting both the ball and a knock to the head. The adulation, concern and irony of the situation all washed over me as I lay sprawled on the ground, ball firmly gripped to my chest. The walk home with the team was all a haze but I’d gotten away with it. There was a wet fish shop in Lauriston Road that did hot chips...heaven in a newspaper wrapper. 

A second thing I had learned in that side was that football pitches rarely open up to swallow you up! A shame because in one game I missed an open goal from right under the cross bar. A deft touch to carry it up vertically and over the crossbar when it would be way easier to score. Fortunately that second lesson was made more palatable by the third. There is no feeling like scoring a goal! At Lauriston I scored my first competitive goal and the adrenaline it fostered was a natural high if ever there was one. No great strike in this case but seeing the ball pass by the keeper into the net is a wonderful liberating feeling.

Probably the most important lesson I learnt at Lauriston was how to deal with disappointment. Somehow in Year 5 we had made the Hackney Schools Cup Final. This was in the very early sixties way before substitutes and reserves were allowed. My teacher, Mr Buck explained to me that as one of the younger players in the team I was to miss out playing in the final, a Year 6 boy Norman Seagal was to play instead. The memory of that feeling stayed with me for life and but helped no end with player empathy, when selecting or non-selecting players. I know how they feel.