Arsenal Tales

 

'Arra … Yer An Artist!' - Highbury Tales  

With Alan 'Arra' Murphy getting some heading practice in just in case the Reds need us.

Easter Tuesday 1967. Tom McGowan, Rob Nicol, Alan Murphy, Dick Dighton and me. Draped in our colours, the red and white of Liverpool F.C. This was a night match at Arsenal and we were sitting in a cafe just down on the  Pentonville Road, a short walk from St Pancras for a pre match beer and chips. It was mid afternoon, the sun shone and we were in high sprits, taking the piss out of one and other, having fun. And talking over the probable team line up. Alf Arrowsmith, the reserve centre forward was in for St.John who was injured. New signing from Blackpool, Emlyn Hughes was also in. Replacing Geoff Strong. Which added an extra dimension to proceedings. It was always good to see new players for the first time. Idle chatter ensued and Dick and I decided to take a walk, to have a 'butchers' at a few second hand book shops nearby. Suddenly a big black man appears in our path. Being young lads from the sticks, I doubt if any of us had seen a black man before, except on the tele or at the 'flicks' as there were no black people in Corby in the 60s, we felt a tad threatened. Why I've no idea! 

"Hey man, where can I  get a coffee?" he asked in a slow Caribbean drawl. This catches us by surprise. "Er, around the corner there's a good cafe", Dick answered encouragingly. "Right" the big feller says, "Take me to it". Ay? "No, it's easy" I piped up, "just around the corner, you can't miss it." Standing stock still, his frame silhouetted against the sunlight over his shoulder, he then informs us that WE are goin' to buy him a coffee. He wasn't looking too kindly at us - and we ran like hell! It was obvious the guy was either half pissed or stoned. We didn't hang about to figure out which. Thankfully he didn't pursue his cause, or chase us. Getting back to our pals still dining at the bistro, breathless, they laughed at our tale of woe and naivety - and ribbed us mercilessly for the rest of the day! 

This was the first time we'd been to Highbury, home of the Gunners. Of all the games in London, Arsenal was the easiest to get to. A couple of stops on the Underground and unbelievably, the ground was right opposite the station. 

This match, over the years, should have been one of the most eagerly awaited of them all, if only for the easy access. As it happened, it became quite the opposite. The Arsenal v Liverpool encounters throughout the late  1960s and the 1970s produced some of the most boring and interminable matches going! This first affair, for our troop set the tone. A dull 1-1 encounter only enlivened by a goal from Arrowsmith and a classic scouse crack from an equally bored Red supporter - "Arra, yer an artist.." Alan Murphy found this particularly amusing and nearly fell over laughing, and from then on, Murph was bestowed with the nickname 'Arra'.

Alf Arrowsmith

An idiosyncrasy about Highbury back then was the pre match entertainment provided by a police band in the corner of the ground. What was that all about? Some type of tradition stretching back the halcyon days for the Arsenal in the 1930s? A nod to their own perceived grandeur and their famed ‘Marble Halls’? When the Beatles, Stones, T.Rex and whoever were forever in the charts, down at Highbury all you got was the police band churning out garbage like 'Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...' or something just as dull and inane! Boring must have been embedded in Arsenal's DNA!

The following 68/69 season Alan and I took our girlfriends Doreen and Sue along for a day out in London, with the highlight being a trip to Highbury. A meal in a Lyons Coffee House by the Piccadilly Underground station before the game was also our intention to impress the ladies. Until the bill came along. All four of us made a sharp exit  out of the door and ran half way down Oxford Street without paying! Gave us all a good laugh. 

Emlyn Hughes

The rest of our gang was also out in force this day. Alan Clarkson, Nick, Tom, Jimmy Knocker, etc. and we teamed up when meeting them outside the stadium. The game was another drab affair which ended 1-1 and is remembered more for a thunderstorm which broke just before kick off, evoking an immediate response from the Liverpool supporters chanting, 'Shankly has spoken!' The other memory of the day was Nick 'picking up' a girl in London and bringing her back home to Corby on the train! Nick had more patter than the rest of us, but his taste in women, it has to be said, was rather less appealing on the eye. As was this one. Joining Alan, Doreen, myself and Sue in the compartment, Nick didn't hang around and soon had his hands down her pants. Unbelievable. And the look on his face was smug. 'That's how you do it boys!'

According to my diary for the 69/70 season, after Arsenal had beaten Liverpool 2-1 it appears that me and Knocker settled for a drink in Piccadilly, while the rest, Tom McGowan, Big Alan and Pat Devlin went to a strip show! That tells you how memorable the game was. I think me and Knocker felt we'd seen enough tits on show that afternoon. Ron Yeats scored a late goal for the Reds.

Arsenal were THE name of English football way back in the 1930s, but could only boast a couple of F.A.Cup triumphs since. Under the stewardship of Bertie Mee and later Terry Neil and George Graham they became universally acknowledged as the most boring team in the land. Mee was in charge when the clubs met in the 1971 Cup Final when Liverpool was in a period of transition. The previous year's exit from the F.A.Cup at lowly Watford had signalled the end for stalwarts Tommy Lawrence, Ron Yeats, Roger Hunt and Ian St John. Tommy Smith was now the captain, leading a team consisting of fresh recruits Ray Clemence, Alec Lindsay, Larry Lloyd, Alun Evans, Brian Hall and Steve Heighway, signed from amateur side Skelmersdale United. Nobody gave them a chance against an Arsenal team that was going for the elusive 'double'. They had won the league at Tottenham the week before and were out to emulate their North London neighbours who had achieved the double of league and cup winners in 1961. Tickets were hard to come by, as was always the case. However, Big Alan, Tom McGowan and Jeff Stewart managed to come by a ticket and left everyone else back home green with envy. Pat Devlin lifted our spirits by arranging a get - together to watch the match in his pal Noel Gibson's flat, which was over a shop on the corner of Gold Street in Kettering. Furthermore, he had a colour TV! Which was as rare as rocking horse shit back then. Armed with 'carry-outs' of cider and lager and a barrel of beer, ‘Wilf’ Wilson, Pat, myself, Jeff 'Scouse' Paton and a crew of 'Kettering Reds', crammed into Gibby's flat to enjoy ourselves and cheer our team on. Outside, Kettering was buzzing with shoppers, the sun was searing. Inside we were getting wrecked. The game was far from a classic, no change there then, passing us by as we grew steadily more pissed by the minute. After 90 minutes it was still 0-0. Then in extra time, ecstasy was reached when Heighway gave Liverpool the lead. We were going crazy, drunk with glee as well as alcohol. Liverpool had endured a particularly barren trophy less spell for over five years. Shankly had built his second great team and were going to deliver their first pot. We were beside ourselves. Until Arsenal's Scottish defender Eddie Kelly popped up and mis-kicked a fluky goal through a crowded area to equalise. Deflation was complete when Charlie George then scored the winner, shooting from outside the area, catching Ray Clemence off guard. In truth, Clem had no chance, but it didn't stop us from screaming BASTARD!!! We took it hard. Morose, our heads spinning, we staggered off to find a chip shop, ended up in Wicksteed Park somehow, and then made our way to the station to meet Al, Tom and Jeff off the train. They were equally distraught. Big Alan was re-running the game, calling the Gunners every unrepeatable epithet he could muster. Couldn't understand how Arsenal had beaten the Reds. Alan was always a bad loser. Funny in a way because it always used to amuse the rest of us! You kept out of his way when he was like that. The gentle  giant would turn into a raging giant at times! Can't remember how we got home. It didn't matter. At the end of the day, the Arsenal had won the cup, we hadn't.

With Tom McGowan and 'Wilf' Wilson

The following year Arsenal would provoke our ire once again on the final day of the season. This time it was for denying Liverpool the league championship, their mission helped by referee Roger Kirkpatrick. This was the same ref who once swallowed his pea in a game at Corby of all places during a game against Barry Town some ten years before. Kirkpatrick resembled someone out of a Charles Dickens novel. Squat, bald on top, huge sideburns. He obviously played to the gallery, running backwards at great speed during matches. Liked to be in the action. A poser. Contorting himself to get a better view for a Corby corner at Occupation Road, he had keeled over and it was apparent he had bitten the end of his whistle off! Much to the merriment of the Corby crowd. Anyway, here he was at Highbury taking charge of the most important game of the season. And he failed us!

Derby County won the championship - sitting on their backsides in Majorca. Their programme had finished and it was a three way battle with other contenders Leeds playing away to Wolverhampton the same night as the Arsenal match. If results went our way with Liverpool winning at Highbury then the title was heading to the North West. In attendance was our usual crew, Pat, Wilf, Big Alan, Knocker. We were going to games in my Escort van these days, having passed my driving test the year before. The atmosphere at Highbury was intense. Thousands of Reds had made the trek to see Liverpool crowned, singing and cheering themselves hoarse throughout the ninety minutes, willing the boys to grab the all important goal. It was 0-0 and time was running out when Heighway whipped in a cross that big John Toshack fired home from close range to send everybody crazy. Our prayers had been answered. Liverpool were champions! The fans were going bananas. So were we. Hugging each other, FANTASTIC! Then, bewilderingly, silence and disbelief engulfed the Clock End where we were all gathered. That prick Kirkpatrick had disallowed the goal! Off Side! No way!! The bastard! There was hardly any time left. The final whistle went almost immediately and we had been robbed. Robbed at the death. Despair and grief hung like a cloud. Liverpool's players slumped on the pitch. What Shankly and his sidekick Bob Paisley had to say about it would have been worth hearing. Traipsing our miserable way back to the Escort van, solace was sought in a pub  where we argued and went over the relevant points of the game, and Mr. Kirkpatrick's role in robbing Liverpool of their first title since 1966. "He was a pain in the arse when he refereed Corby's matches in the 60s" was a painful but reflective observation from Wilf.

Referee Roger Kirkpatrick

Later on it was revealed that Kirkpatrick had traveled to the game from his home in Leicester by train, and on the return journey was joined by Jeff Stewart and a few other Liverpool supporters from Corby. They let him know what they thought of his performance and were delighted to discover that he spent most of the trip, hiding in the toilet!

The following year's fixture was again more notable for a particular incident rather than anything else that went on during the match. Making our way to the 'gates' we had suddenly sidled up to a flash car trying to make some headway through the throng of supporters. Inside at the wheel was none other than Jimmy Hill, the well known former Fulham player and PFA Chairman cum television football pundit. No mistaking Jim. His chin with that unmistakable 'goatie' looked even longer in real life! His face always looked like a cake to me! One of those shortbread cakes with chocolate on the end. In fact to this day I always ask for a 'Jimmy Hill' when in a cake shop!

Little did we know that this wasn't going to be the last time we'd see him in the flesh that day. Midway through the first half a linesman went down with cramp and had to be carried off. There was no fourth officials in those days and after a public address announcement, asking if there was anybody in the ground with even a modicum of experience to take over, Jimmy Hill suddenly appeared waving his flag! Amazing. The game, another 0-0 draw, saw Liverpool's old enemy from his Everton days, Alan Ball, running around like a headless chicken again. It did give the kopites an opportunity to air their tonsils with the old favourite; 'Alan Ball, Alan Ball, is it true what Shankly says, you’re worth fuck all!' Sung to the tune of 'Teenage Opera'.

In 1978 Liverpool were in the semi finals of the League Cup, a two legged affair against the Gunners. Having won the first leg 2-1 it was with great anticipation we traveled to Highbury to witness what would surely be a formality of reaching Wembley to do battle with Brian Clough's Nottingham Forest. Not that we were expecting a classic. We weren't disappointed; the Reds hung on for a 0-0 draw which was enough to book their passage. What we didn't expect was that one of our boys, Pat Devlin, would be arrested for nothing more than shouting a tirade of abuse at the referee during the second half. Looking back we should have seen the warnings. The police, having finished with their drums and trumpets were drafted in to mingle amongst the Liverpool supporters in an obvious attempt to dampen any over the top exuberance. On reflection it could have been they were fed up of the scousers taking the piss out of them! Whatever, Big Alan took umbrage when he was warned as to his future conduct by one of the Scuffers (Scouse for copper in the 60s), following a few verbals in the first half. Alan roared; "Fucking hell, do they think we're at the fucking pictures!" The copper in question used his discretion and ignored the big feller, which wasn't an unwise thing to do. Pat wasn't to be so lucky. Alright, we had all had a drink before the game, we were a wee bit excited, and we were enjoying our night out. The tie was going our way. Which was why probably, out of the  blue, another copper decided he'd had enough of the singing and abuse of the Queen's language, and grabbed Pat by the neck and dragged him away to the cells as if he was an escaped convict! We all looked on in disbelief. Wilf, Alan and myself tried to intervene but were warned we'd would be joining him if we didn't back off. As it happened, Pat revealed he was slung into a police cell in the ground and found himself in the company of a few other scousers, all left to dwell on their plight before being released at the final whistle. Wankers! Though come to think of it, there was many a time down the years at Highbury when a seat in a cell might have been more interesting than watching the game!

Jeff, Gareth and Dick

Barney Rubble meets Gareth Smith

In 1980 came another interminable  game with the Gunners, the F.A.Cup semi final tie which went to three replays! Me and Knocker made the third game played at Coventry. Tedious as it was it was with some relief when a goal was scored even if unfortunately it went to Arsenal. Even Liverpool’s David Fairclough was quoted as saying after the game that the game was a non event. The players were as bored as the fans then! It was draining and by the time it was over, we couldn’t have cared less!

A gap of five years followed before I saw another Liverpool v Arsenal match. The opening game of the 85/86 season in which I took my son Gareth along for his first trip to Anfield. Jeff Stewart and Dick was with us as well. Different team of course from the previous  time and prior to the kick off I managed to get a photo of Gareth with Alan Kennedy, Liverpool’s left back. Made our day! We sat in the main stand, which was a first for me. This was also the first game for Kenny Dalglish as player manager and was coming on the back of the Heysel disaster a few months earlier. The scoreline of 2-0 with Ronnie Whelan and Steve Nicol scoring, capped a great day all round!

Reunited in 2012

Plenty of other memories concerning these Arsenal games but most memorable was the final game at Anfield in 1989 when the Reds were expected to wrap up the championship but the Gunners scored THAT last minute goal! I was driving a Royal Mail lorry up the M6 on my way to Manchester Airport listening on the radio at the time. Never felt so pissed off in my life!