Don’t know what’s got into some of the lads these days. Bunch of prima donnas.
That Beckham seems to have his head screwed on but we were never like that. Well
maybe a few of us. Course we had our share of piss-artists in my day too.
Georgie Best springs to mind. But things have certainly changed. Russian
oligarchs and …Italian trainers. Not naming any names here but where’s the
flash? Too many blokes out there kicking the ball off sideways instead of going
for the goalmouth. Importing players and managers from all over now too. We’ve
been well globalized.
Everybody was getting TVs and soon they started televising the games. Playing First Division in those days was like being a pop star. The mud the sweat, the roar from the stands….like fucking gladiators we were. I was in the papers a lot. Got my face on bubble-gum cards and puffed wheat packets. And TV. They’d get us on chat shows with the Dave Clark Five or something and ask us what we thought about Jayne Mansfield. I didn’t mind. It was egalitarian one BBC bloke told me. Television was reaching out to the people. Top of the Pops, Ready Steady Go. Crumpet everywhere.
Some of you may remember the headlines. ‘Headley Does It Again!!!’ ‘Another Hat trick for Headley’ etc. ‘Headley Excels Himself’ ‘With a stunning virtuoso performance Dick Headley scores six goals against Liverpool in Arsenal’s first away game of the season …’ and so on…What the papers didn’t say was Headley was smashed out of his pod on lysergic acid and ‘pep’ pills. The crowd was singing Strawberry Fields, the ref was a mushroom and the Liverpool goalie looked like Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. That poor goalie just gave up when he saw me coming. Who could blame him? Multi-coloured electric creature with 20 legs bearing down on the area at the speed of light. He didn’t have a chance. Or maybe he was stoned too. Lots of people were in those days. Then disaster struck.
Next headline was ‘Dick In The Dock!!!!’ above a picture of a sheepish-looking Headley on the steps of Marylebone Magistrates Court. What happened was I had a few friends over and the fuzz showed up. Caught us at it. The British Press were very nice about it of course. Pot Headley they called me. And there was no arguing with the beak.
“Richard Headley of Cheyne Walk, London, SW3 you are a disgrace to the sporting profession. By indulging in mind-altering substances you are setting a bad example to the youth of this country and…..”
“Fuck that your honour I………..”
“That will do Headley. Fortunately for you I am an Arsenal supporter. Six months suspended.”
Well it could have been worse. Two weeks later and they would have had me for the Great Train Robbery.
With my football career gone I was at a loose end. Did I miss it? Well let’s just say I had to make an adjustment. I'd done a bit of bouncing in strip clubs and I worked for Rachman, learning the property management business. So I got into restoring old houses. We were clearing out a squat in Fulham one day when I noticed all these young folk wearing torn clothes and safety pins, spiked jewelry and fishnet tights. They had rude things written on their T shirts with magic marker. Very offensive they looked. It gave me an idea….
Everybody was getting TVs and soon they started televising the games. Playing First Division in those days was like being a pop star. The mud the sweat, the roar from the stands….like fucking gladiators we were. I was in the papers a lot. Got my face on bubble-gum cards and puffed wheat packets. And TV. They’d get us on chat shows with the Dave Clark Five or something and ask us what we thought about Jayne Mansfield. I didn’t mind. It was egalitarian one BBC bloke told me. Television was reaching out to the people. Top of the Pops, Ready Steady Go. Crumpet everywhere.
Some of you may remember the headlines. ‘Headley Does It Again!!!’ ‘Another Hat trick for Headley’ etc. ‘Headley Excels Himself’ ‘With a stunning virtuoso performance Dick Headley scores six goals against Liverpool in Arsenal’s first away game of the season …’ and so on…What the papers didn’t say was Headley was smashed out of his pod on lysergic acid and ‘pep’ pills. The crowd was singing Strawberry Fields, the ref was a mushroom and the Liverpool goalie looked like Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. That poor goalie just gave up when he saw me coming. Who could blame him? Multi-coloured electric creature with 20 legs bearing down on the area at the speed of light. He didn’t have a chance. Or maybe he was stoned too. Lots of people were in those days. Then disaster struck.
Next headline was ‘Dick In The Dock!!!!’ above a picture of a sheepish-looking Headley on the steps of Marylebone Magistrates Court. What happened was I had a few friends over and the fuzz showed up. Caught us at it. The British Press were very nice about it of course. Pot Headley they called me. And there was no arguing with the beak.
“Richard Headley of Cheyne Walk, London, SW3 you are a disgrace to the sporting profession. By indulging in mind-altering substances you are setting a bad example to the youth of this country and…..”
“Fuck that your honour I………..”
“That will do Headley. Fortunately for you I am an Arsenal supporter. Six months suspended.”
Well it could have been worse. Two weeks later and they would have had me for the Great Train Robbery.
With my football career gone I was at a loose end. Did I miss it? Well let’s just say I had to make an adjustment. I'd done a bit of bouncing in strip clubs and I worked for Rachman, learning the property management business. So I got into restoring old houses. We were clearing out a squat in Fulham one day when I noticed all these young folk wearing torn clothes and safety pins, spiked jewelry and fishnet tights. They had rude things written on their T shirts with magic marker. Very offensive they looked. It gave me an idea….
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