Magpie Ranger - First Draft Extract

Here's an extract from 'Magpie Ranger - A life in black and white' - it's a first draft and it's rough but you should get the gist.

Let me know what you think.

Growing Pains

Ever heard of David Robinson? No? Well let me illustrate the difference between how good professional footballers actually are and, despite what we all claim in the pub after another nil – nil draw, why we could never be one. In 1981 I moved on to Benfield Comprehensive school in the East End of Newcastle, most lads from Welly Road went on to Walker School but I ended up at Benner. It had a good reputation then, I don’t know about now but it was well thought of back then in the days of only three television channels. The school has spawned a handful of pro footballers in it’s time, the likes of Steve Bruce (Man Utd through and through no matter what he claims), Lee Clark, Dave Roach and David Robinson to name a few from the top of my head. You’ll have heard of Bruce and Clark, Roachy played quite a few times in the first team under Ossie Ardiles before Keegan moved him on and Robinson? Well, he played once in the first team under Jim Smith before dropping down the divisions (and bear in mind, when he played for us we were shite) and the general consensus on the Gallowgate end was that he just wasn’t good enough for us at a time when we were a second division team.

I agreed loudly and vociferously with all the blokes around me at the time, well you do when you’re seventeen and full of beer don’t you, but all the while I was harbouring a guilty secret and a secret animosity towards ‘Robbo’. I’d played in direct opposition to him in a school match only a couple of years previously. He was the star striker in our years ‘A’ team while I was one of two plodding centre halves in the ‘B’ team, incidentally I think our manager just picked us both together for a laugh, his name was Fish (alright Mickey, hope you’re well) and my mine is obviously Riv.. well you get the picture. Actually there was a bloke in the squad called Waters as well, I kid you not.

Anyway, every season there was an ‘A’ team versus ‘B’ team friendly on a Friday afternoon before the big kick off, this was always well attended as it got you out of lessons for the afternoon and if you were crafty you could sneak off early to start your weekend. So, young Dave had recently cracked getting into the Newcastle United youth team and I’d be marking him, this was it, this was the year I’d be making my claim to an ‘A’ team spot and recognition from the scouts that always came to Benfield, my rightful place in the football league was assured after I sorted this big headed twat out, I couldn’t wait for kick off.

As the sun shone down brightly on the whole school and a gentle breeze casually touched the tops of the blades of brilliant green grass I went over my strategy. The ref, resplendent in his all black football league gear (he was a genuine league referee) raised his whistle to his lips and looked at both goalkeepers, I played it over mentally – hit him hard early on, beat him to the first ball every time, make him look a twat, get promoted to the ‘A’ team, get scouted, use my muscular frame to win a contract at the toon as a top centre half, live on easy street. Piece of piss.

The whistle went and I strode into battle…ten minutes later and we were three nil down, Robbo had a hatrick and he’d been told to ease off by the PE teacher. At the end they won something like eight-nil, he’d got five and never really broken sweat, I couldn’t get near him, I tried to kick him, nut him punch him, everything but was made to look a mug, maybe I should have tried kicking the ball.

Anyway, next time you’re in the boozer moaning about how Lampard’s not good enough for England and Neville’s a load of shite, just remember, they’re much, much better than Dave Robinson, he was much, much better than me…and well…I’m much, much better than you, so think on.