Well it has been way too long since my last blog entry, so much has happened, the most significant development being the founding of
Sporting Memories Network CIC
After a positive conversation which confirmed we shared a number of common values and aims, The
Sporting Memories Network CIC was founded over a wee dram or two at the
Scottish Malt Whisky Society in Edinburgh
Bill's Story
The group of men were sitting waiting for me. A man was coming to
talk about football. They gathered round the table and quickly started
examining the old photos I had brought. Names of players were
enthusiastically shouted out and soon the stories about games, players,
goals and incidents were told with great fondness. The recall was
impressive, by any standards. All of these men had dementia.
One
well-dressed man sat contentedly reading his paper. "Come on, Bill"
said one of the helpers, "you like football, don't you?" Somewhat
reluctantly, Bill joined the group. I hadn't seen anything yet. Bill
took me back to the 1930s and 1940s as if it was yesterday. Along with
his boyhood pal, Jimmy, they rattled off scores, line-ups and goals and
spoke of legendary figures. All I had to do was produce the images. As
the session was ending, Jimmy leaned across to me and whispered,"Bill
was a grand player, I saw him play for Celtic."
Armed
with this information, I looked up my books to see if this modest old
man was in fact a former professional player. I discovered that Bill was
in fact William Corbett, formerly of Celtic, Preston, Leicester,
Dunfermline and Scotland. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I
was able to build up a picture of the man and his career. And what a
career.
October 1942. England 0 Scotland 0, at
Wembley. The match reports all said that Bill was the man of the match.
"I have never seen a Scottish centre-half play [Tommy] Lawton as well as
young Corbett did this afternoon" said one. All of them sang the
praises of the young 20-year-old and predicted a bright future for him
in the navy blue of Scotland.
By a sheer fluke, I was
able to bid for a programme of the match which became available on e-Bay
and I looked at the line-ups. I looked and I looked. This young man had
faced the might of English football: Hapgood, Britton, Cullis, Mercer,
Matthews, Lawton and Compton, all in their prime. A crowd of 75,000 had
seen a tremendous struggle and young Corbett was the star man.
Bill
was ever so proud when I showed him the programme. Pointing to the
Scotland line-up, he showed me the names: Shankly, Corbett and Busby.
"Not a bad half-back line, eh son?" I had to smile.
He
became an amazing source of stories about war-time football, when he
played for various clubs as a guest. He had a twinkle in his eye when he
recounted arriving at Upton Park. "My brother Norman played for West
Ham. Their manager was a right Cockney and he told me anytime I was near
London, just come along and I'll get you a game."
By
then Bill was in the Navy and he never knew where his travels would take
him. I had a mental picture of some poor guy stripped ready to play,
when a bright young naval man would come in and take his place. When I
asked Bill how he thought the West Ham player would have felt, he
answered with a lovely smile: "Ah suppose he wisnae best pleased".
Bill
came along to the Football Reminiscence sessions, even after he went to
a care home, and he loved the talk about the old days, "when we were
young," as he would say. He was an absolute joy to be with and I learned
more from him than in any football history book.
I
last saw Bill alive three weeks before he passed away. We had a great
session, laughing and joking and recalling the great players he had
played with and against. As his carer wheeled him out of the room to the
waiting transport, he turned to me and said, "Son, that was the best
day of my life". I struggled to keep my emotions in check as he went
away. Little did I realise that we would never meet again.
Whenever
anyone asks me if Football Reminiscence is effective, I
think of Bill's comment to a university researcher who was assessing the
effectiveness of the programme. "See this," he said, pointing to his
handkerchief, "it's soaking wet with tears. Tears of joy." Bill said it
all.
His journey to the end of his illness was
difficult, but for these few hours, Bill was back at his brilliant best.
He loved football and he loved reminiscing. And we all loved Bill.
