The Beautiful Game

Christmas 1981 was the last Christmas I spent with my parents whilst still living with them. It was also the last Christmas that I played Subbuteo against my Uncle Bill, who was responsible for introducing me to the competitive side of the game many years before.

Uncle Bill was the Secretary of a small local club that I became a part of, but most of all he opened up the door to many youngsters in the area, to his way of thinking they were the future of what he called the “Beautiful Game”.

Uncle Bill was an ex pro footballer with Reading and in the 39/40 season had become a member of Reading’s first team squad. A winger by trade but never really had his chance to shine as that season was abandoned after 3 games due to the outbreak of World War 2. He then joined the Army and was posted to North Africa. After coming through that campaign unscathed he found himself part of the invasion of Italy and was wounded at the Battle of Salerno. He was then shipped to a military hospital in England, where he met my Aunt who was a volunteer Nurse. Due to the nature of the injury Uncle Bill’s football career was over before it had begun. By 1950 he had discovered Subbuteo and swapped one beautiful game for another.

That Christmas My Uncle Bill, Aunt Frances, my Maternal Grandparents, and also my Derbyshire branch of the Family which included my Uncle Frank, Aunt Jean, and my Cousins Chris and Diane, who were a couple or so years younger than myself, were all gathering at our house for the Christmas celebrations.

1981 was one of the coldest Christmas’s I can remember, snow was laying after significant snowfall a few days earlier, and to make things worse the temperature was way below zero. There was a doubt whether Uncle Frank, Aunt Jean, Chris and Diane would be able to make the journey but they did, and arrived very late on the 23^rd after an arduous train journey, from which my Father met them at Wolverhampton rail station.

 

The Big Day

As had become normal on Christmas day in our household the men ventured on foot to the nearest pub whilst the women prepared dinner. Not because we were chauvinistic in any shape or form, my Mother and the rest of the ladies insisted, we get out of their way whilst they prepared dinner and hit the sherry, but with a stark warning, “Don’t have too much or there will be consequences”.

You have to believe me that those consequences were not just idle threats, those Sherry fueled women were mean dudes when roused, and we had no intention of rousing the sleeping beast. So my Grandad, Dad, Bill, Frank, Chris, and myself headed off to the “Yew Tree”, for a swift half before dinner.

Two hours, and many swift halves later we started home, for the customary Christmas Fayre. The walk home took longer than expected as we had take turns propping Grandad up, who had had a few more swift halves than the rest of us, due mainly to him knowing most people in the pub who decided that he needed refreshment. On the way home we hung on to him in case we lost him, in spite of his insistence that he was able to get there under his own steam. I remember when we arrived home, Gran looked Grandad in the eye and said, “I hope you’re sober or I’ll be stuffing something bigger than the turkey, and it won’t be it’s neck”. To which my Grandfather replied “Sweetheart, I’m as sober as a Judge”, well it actually sounded like “Slweetheart, I’m as Slober”, hic, “As”, hic, “ A do dah thingy”.

“Well done Grandad I think you fooled her, and dodged a bullet there”, said my Dad. Everyone including my Gran thought that he may be slightly exaggerating his condition, but he seemed to get away with it, without suffering the fate of the turkey.

After Dinner Games

After dinner, and Grandad’s insistence that we toast the Queen with a single malt, we mere male mortals cleared up whilst Grandad supervised the operation, reminiscing about the golden age of football when men were men and West Bromwich Albion actually won something, despite the fact that he was surrounded by Aston Villa, Nottingham Forest, and Derby fans, who had at that time a little more to celebrate.

Then it was Subbuteo time, even Grandad played, how many balls he could see was anyone’s guess and after losing his first game, decided that he needed a rest and made good use of the fireside armchair to fall into a deep sleep and dream about the last time West Brom won the League in 1920, and by the sound of it, it was a noisy old season that one.

My Dad followed suit shortly after falling foul of a defeat by my Uncle Bill, and Chris and I had an end to end cup tie, which I narrowly won to face my Uncle Bill in the final, after he had given Uncle Frank a “reet thumping”, as they say in Derbyshire.

So I faced my Uncle Bill in the final game, someone I had played numerous times in the past, but had rarely beaten, was this going to be one of those rare occasions. I thought it could be I was 1 up at half time, and kept him at arms length with only a couple of speculative shots to deal with. But it was that 2^nd half performance from my Uncle that I still remember to this day.

I quickly doubled my lead, then the masterclass began, he swerved and spun his way to victory despite my best efforts, and at the final whistle I had been beaten 3-2, by the man who had taught me the finer points of the game over the last 12 years, the man who had taught me that Subbuteo really was more than just a game.

Sad But True

Sadly that was the last time I played Uncle Bill, the next Christmas he spent with his family in Reading, the year after I myself was married and spent Christmas with my in laws. The following year he passed away, 6 months after retiring. In my eyes a great Subbuteo player, and one hell of an opponent every time I had the pleasure of facing him across the baize. He took the game seriously but took great pleasure in making the game enjoyable for anyone that wanted to take part. I may have lost to him on numerous occasions, but the experience gained was invaluable to me and is still as  relevant today as it was 40 years ago. He was the biggest single factor in my Subbuteo journey, and someone I will always have the deepest respect for, as the person who taught me the “Beautiful Game”.

My Year in Brief

It’s at this time of year many of us around the world celebrate Christmas, and hopefully look forward to a New Year, but it’s also a time to reflect and look back at the highs and lows of the year we’re fast leaving behind, our achievements no matter how small, our mistakes no matter how big. A time to try and reset and start anew, or to build upon our past endeavours.

I’m no different to anyone else, it may have been a testing year in many ways for many of us, with the World in such crisis, and no matter what we do as individuals it will never solve all of the problems but it sure as hell shouldn’t stop us trying.

I’ve also managed to update the blog regularly to share my sometimes random thoughts and ideas. All with the aim of helping others who may be void of solutions of how to solve a particular problem, or just give seasoned players another way to approach things or build upon in their own way.

Solo as a way of being involved in this hobby is, and always will be a personal thing, but by sharing our thoughts and ideas in my eyes makes it a little more interesting and more community based. Most of us will never meet but the interaction on here, Social Media and the like, brings us all together into one place to share and feel part of a wider community. That in itself creates a sense of belonging and a connection to a hobby with people from all over the world. Which I feel is vital for some that are devoid of local opponents or enthusiasts in their current location.

I’ve personally made friends that a couple of years ago would not have happened were it not for the Solo side of the game, but they are friendships in the true sense of the word. We don’t just talk Subbuteo, we’ve shared so much more all because we flick little plastic folk around a miniature pitch. Now that to me is what community and friendship is all about.

And Finally

So all that’s left for me to say is have a very Merry Christmas, and I hope the New Year is a happy and prosperous one for you all, but most of all we continue to keep the “Beautiful Game” alive and well, as my Uncle Bill did during his time, to appreciate and enjoy for generations to come.

Keep On Flicking

Ian

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