Free Catch A Falling Star by Neil Young, Dante Friend Page A

with a brisk walk to try and take my mind off things but I’d end up thinking about what I’d like to happen during the match.
    Then I’d come back in, watch a bit of Grandstand while eating a bit more toast and a packet of minestrone soup. I couldn’t eat much before a game, I’d be too nervous. Then I’d set off about
1pm
and drive down to the ground, going the same way every time. It was a superstitious thing but it made me comfortable.
    Thinking back, our team talk on a Friday must have been the shortest on record. Joe used to pop his head around the door and just say: “Same again as last week, lads!” and that would be it. Maybe there’d be a little advice for Harry Dowd, to tell him what colour the opposition would be playing in but at this stage we were so confident that we didn’t need complicated instructions.
    *

    I don’t care what anybody says, nerves start to jangle before a match and everybody has different ways of overcoming this. In my mind, if you don’t have nerves before a game then you’re not going to play well.
    About fifteen minutes prior to a game was the worst time: Ken Mulhearn or Kossack Ken, as we christened him, would be at the mirror, spraying on his Kossack hairspray. His hair would be spiky and rock hard – he was a good looking lad and from what I remember, a very big lad in every department, if you know what I mean!
    When he first signed I went to pick him up at his house in Cheadle on his way to the ground for his debut. I went to the front door and his wife opened it and she just said: “Ken is in the living room feeding his pets.” I thought: “Okay, seems normal enough.”
    As I strode in I remember thinking that we’d better get a move on because it was already
2pm
and we had to be at the ground by twenty past. So I sauntered into the living room and there was our new ‘keeper stark naked feeding his pet piranhas! He was lobbing these unfortunate angel fish into this massive tank one by one. “Stick your finger in Youngy ,” Ken laughed. “Not bloody likely!” I replied. Still, Ken was a tremendous bloke with a great sense of humour – last I heard he was a landlord in
Shrewsbury
.
    Picking up Ken was a break from my usual routine but it probably helped that we were running a bit late because there was nothing worse than that tense half hour before kick-off.
    Back in our dressing room Tony Book would be getting a massage on his weary legs while Glyn Pardoe would sit very quietly in the corner. Of course, Doyley would be ranting and raving and Big George Heslop would be tanning his boots off and on, off and on, over and over again. Oakey would be oiling his massive thighs and Summerbee would be at his hyperactive best shouting and screaming and waving his arms everywhere. Belly would sit there as motionless as a ghost and Franny seemed to be the only one of us without any obvious nerves. He always seemed relaxed but he was probably masking the same nervousness as all of us with his laughing and joking.
    There were some of us who couldn’t stand the tension and normally TC (Tony Coleman) and I would slip into the bathroom and have a quick cigarette like two naughty boys behind the bike sheds. If Harry Dowd was playing he would be in there as well throwing a ball to lessen the nerves. In a way it’s probably worse for a ‘keeper because he can’t run around so much to get rid of that nervous energy once he’s out there.
    So this was the team and the personalities who would sweep all before them in the coming seasons – the best team in the league and all the world… as the song goes.
    It was also around this time that I went to see Joe to get a better deal. Neil Young, the kid from next door, had been the leading scorer in our promotion bid in the second division. I was happy at City but I felt that at 24 I had already been a pro for seven years and deserved a rise. Let me tell you that was quite a long time for a player to be at one club. Signing for