Post by gazz on Dec 4, 2013 22:45:23 GMT
Fair Play League
bringbacklenwhite
A system devised to reward the "nicest" team in the Premiership a chance to play in a tin pot second division competition across Europe. Thus giving them an extra 20 games a year in which to not get booked or sent off and be accommodating of all referees and their rubbish decisions.
It is "a combination of statistics and the spirit of the game - Rudyard Kipling meets the Duckworth- Lewis Method" (quote Harry Pearson in his book Dribble).
Mid-table sides have been known to put out a team of psychopaths in April and May just to ensure that qualification for an early June trip to Poltova or Brno is well avoided.
Forfeits
sandbachhatter
As we all know, supporting County can be hard work sometimes and it's hard to muster up enthusiasm when your team are getting battered off the park week in, week out.
So, towards the end of last season myself, Captain Beefheart and a friend of mine (let's again call him Tim) decided to spice up one of our visits to EP by adding some forfeits into the equation.
We had decided on a midday start in the Crown so even by 2pm we were well on our way to a state of inebriation (which helped with the afore-mentioned supporting of County last season) and the first challenge was to predict the time of the first goal. If memory serves, we conceded early on (ok, it's just an educated guess to be honest) which meant Beefy lost and had to do his forfeit at half time which was to eat a Chicken Balti Pie. It sounds easy (and I would have found it so) but Beefy is adverse to these particular pies and they genuinely make him ill. Needless to say, we forced him to eat it and he ended up taking a week off work. He still maintains it was the pie and blames me for choosing his forfeit but I still think he had an unrelated stomach bug as he didn't get ill until the Sunday.
Not that it matters, but mine and Tim's forfeits had both been the same - to down a pint of the lukewarm p**s that passes for Carling in the Cheadle End bar. Thankfully we didn't have to.
Anyway, Beefy got his revenge.
One of the pre-match conversations had been about Beefy's bottle of Budvar (oooh, alliteration) and whether this contained more beer than a pint glass. Not knowing how many millilitres are in a pint (we do now of course) we each had to guess. Tim, by some miracle as yet unsolved by man, managed to get the closest, followed by me then Beefy. So, the forfeit was that we could go to the loo as much as we liked pre-kick off, but as soon as the whistle went to start the match I couldn't go to the loo until Tim did, and Beefy couldn't go until I did (thus following the order of our guessing).
As any self respecting man will know (I've discounted women as they have the bladder of a camel) if you've been on the ale for a good few hours and then attend a football game, you have a window of around 3 minutes between realising you need a pee, and going into full body spasm with the pain.
Needless to say, around 20 minutes into the game, Tim said he needed the loo. Beefy and I were relieved as we were getting pretty desperate too but, upon hearing this, Tim (the stubborn get) decided he would try and hold on. And hold on he did, right through half time and into the second half. This was despite him being in agony with the urgency to pee, and despite protests from the two of us who were by now adopting a pose in our seats in UT2 akin to the foetal position.
Tim finally gave in and nipped down to the loo at around 80 minutes, by which point I was in so much pain anyway and engrossed in the game (which makes it a miracle I can't remember which match it was as I think I only became 'engrossed' twice last season) that I decided to hold on until full time, much to the annoyance of Beefy who by this point had already dialled "9, 9..." on his mobile and was hovering over the '9' button to hit it when his bladder did finally explode.
Sure enough, I lasted until full time and so both Beefy and I ran (in a kind of bandy-legged way) to the toilets. I joined the queue for the urinals (sorry Sirius, but I'm painting a picture here) and Beefy decided the cubicle queue would be quicker. Sure enough, I looked to my right to see him going through the door and sticking two fingers up at me, at which point I mouthed "You can't go until I do."
I won't repeat what I heard him shout in my direction.
Anyway, I did say he got his revenge. As I got to the urinal and 'began' I heard a voice from the cubicle. "Have you started yet?"
Bear in mind this was a packed toilet by this point. I decided to ignore him. "I said, HAVE YOU STARTED YET?"
Realising he wasn't going to give up, I angrily whispered 'Yes'.
"What was that? Have you started to wee yet?!"
"YES!"
At which point most of the toilet began laughing at me.
Utter git.
Fudgie/Fudge, Big
bigfudge
Picture a circa 1990 Dudley, Warring Baggies and Wolves fans taking their toll on the city but in Wordsley Hospital, a young man had just been born, a young man by the name of Fudge, of course this was before he had earned the prefix 'big' however this industrial Midlands City was only destined for 2 years of Fudge as in 1992, his father decided the grass was greener on the other side (of the Atlantic!) and moved with littlefudge in tow, to the land of his ancestors, in Vancouver in The Great White North of Canada!
After only four short years, the Fudgie family was on their way back to Jolly Old England, but not before littlefudge had discovered the joys of Ice Hockey, even at such a young and naive age, this young man could definitely see the good points of getting some massive Russians, putting them on ice with sticks and giving them licence to fight, however upon arriving in the new home of Stockport, Fudge fell in love with another sport, Football.
The years went by and despite at first supporting Manchester United because everybody else did, his father sent him down the Old Gold path to Wolverhampton, to support Robbie Keane and Steve Bull in their notoriously unsuccessful promotion bids in the late 90's but due to a combination of free tickets from School and a growing sense of hometown pride he found his way into the Blue and White of Stockport County, whom he remains a fan of to this day.
The young man worked very hard in School, Priestnall School to be precise and in the whole 5 years only missed 4 days of School, twice through being on holiday, once through being too ill to move and once because he thought that the school holidays ended the next day, however the hard work was all worth it as the effort was refelected in all of the A*'s and A's acheived in the GCSE's/O-Levels, of course during this time was the 16th Birthday, when he finally came of age and earned the Big, before his name!
College soon went by, with again, a lot of effort and a lot of wasted days when he could have had fun but was too obsessed with Studying, Working and playing Ice Hockey, at the end of college BigFudge showed a shocking lack of ambition by turning down an interview with Cambridge University because he wanted to stay local, something that he still kicks himself about, he successfully studied Computer Science and Journalism at The University of Manchester for 2 years and will spend the next academic year in Vancouver finishing his degree and hopefully taking his Hockey to the next level, he is hoping to feed his love for the Vancouver Canucks during his spell over there and may well stay in Vancouver, the story doesn't end here, in fact it's just beginning!
ORDER NOW! The Deluxe Hardback edition from any good bookstore, to read about the juicy parts of The Life of Fudge, The first fight, the first detention, the first sending off, the first 'time', the first pet and of course, the first post on County Heaven, all for the bargain price of £39.99
Frido Supreme
bringbacklenwhite
The SBS of footballs. If Frido made biscuits they would have to be Chocolate Hobnobs.
The Frido Supreme has made many a great impression on youngsters' thighs, foreheads and nether regions. Best played with in below zero temperatures, where standing in the defensive wall was akin to standing up in the First World War Trenches and shouting at the enemy to turn the volume and lead content down a bit.
Produced in either white or brown (the best choice as it didn't show up the "smear of fear" amassed after a direct hit on the backside) it was the football least susceptible to penetration from thorns.
Having succombed to a said "pr**k", the ball was easily mended using a hot poker. Try doing that with the "ballooons in use nowadays.
Five Frenchmen
hatter in macc
They all played for County in recent years, but are they remembered for being magnifique (or even macc-nifique), ordinaire or abominable?
In chronological order:
Joel Cantona (1994)
Had a brief spell on our books towards the end of the last full Bergara season (1993/94) - although his turning out for County had little to do with aptitude for the game, and everything to do with being able to have a base in the North West so that bother Eric, up the road, could enjoy a bit of family contact. Cantona Minor looked permanently bemused on the pitch, and offered little other than curiosity value. A cross between an enigma and a French farce.
Ooh La La rating: ** DEUX POINTS (un pour l'énigmatique).
Laurent D'Jaffo (1999-2000)
Front-line striker, born in France and holder of three caps for Bénin. Played in the season of our orange change-strip, thereby transforming, at certain away-games, into Laurent D'Jaffa (boom, tish!). Not a bad goals-to-matches ratio, at one in three, although his misses were more numerous and memorable.
Ooh La La rating: *** TROIS POINTS.
Karim Fradin (1999-2003)
Ah - a bit more like it. Often seen to shrug in a Gallic way? Check. Unpredictably and frustratingly drifting in and out of the game at the drop of a chapeau? Check. Nice hair? Check (or so I'm led to believe...). Capable of moments of unexpected brilliance? Check: his twenty-five yard 'Karim-a screamer' in the Third Round Cup-tie at Preston still rates as one of the top ten County goals ever in my book.
Ooh La La rating: **** QUATRE POINTS.
Mansour Assoumani (2010-2011)
Another French-born player who, rather astonishingly, was capped once - but only the once, mind - by his country (Mali). Won himself a contract with County after a series of seriously-quite-impressive performances against the likes of Skelmersdale and Northwich Vics, but after those moments had passed - and, it has to be said, a half-decent goal at Macc early on in the season-proper - it all went downhill for Mani, whose casual ways and gangly legs combined to cause all manner of shenanigans in our central defence (such as it was...).
Ooh La La rating: ** DEUX POINTS (un pour l'effort).
Nabil Brahim-Bounab (2011-20??)
While Mani may very well have struggled to hold down a place in our Conference side, NB-B has already proved beyond doubt that he does. Not, one would suspect, a player who will either be around for the long haul back to the promised land of League Two, or be remembered by future generations of Heaveners as a cause célèbre...
Ooh La La rating: * UN POINT.
Merci et bon nuit!
Football Association (The)
bringbacklenwhite
A bunch of sycophantic, jumped up, no-bods who enjoy wearing blazers with badges and troughing expensive lunches whilst making a great fist of cocking up the English game of football.
They would be totally incapable of finding their own arses with both hands in their back pockets.
Please feel free to add to the post with you own opinions.
Fabio Capello
bigfudge
Former England manager who was in charge for the 2010 World Cup campaign and the 2012 European Championship's Qualifying campagin, he is also the man wanted by police for the murder of John Terry!
Fiveways FC
unknown (feel free to claim this one if it's yours)
As promised in Week B, my most hated team.
I’d always enjoyed some hard-fought battles against Fiveways. Their manager (whose name I’ve forgotten) was a great bloke. He was always at Torkington Park early to put the nets up and corner flags out. The players didn’t need to lift a finger. He also came over to us, as the away team, for a chat whilst handing over the card.
Somehow they ended up relegated to our division due to a points deduction which I think had something to do with playing an illegible player.
About 4 or 5 games into the season we met them at our place and were soundly beaten. Their centre-back told me that was their first win as they’d had a terrible start. We played them at our place the week after in the Cup and were beaten again. At the same time, Cale Green were winning every game and were sitting at the top of the division.
I think we managed to be one of the only teams to take any points off Cale Green that season but we had a pretty decent side at the time. Fiveways were playing catch-up all season but catching up they were as they hadn’t dropped any points since beating us near the start of the season.
Then, with two games remaining, we played them up at their place on a Thursday night due to fixture congestion from a particularly bad winter. They needed a win to have any chance of overturning Cale Green for top spot. We were sitting 3rd and couldn’t finish any higher, all we could play for was pride.
It was a soaking wet pitch that was cutting up badly as the rain fell, perfect for players like me with limited skill. We surprised them by having the nerve to go 1-0 up. It didn’t last as they equalised soon after. They were desperate for the win and were duly gutted when we scored again with about 20 minutes remaining. Then they threw everything at us. We defended for all our worth but near the end their centre-back dived at full stretch to head the dreaded second equaliser.
The match finished 2-2 and as always we went over to shake hands and congratulate each other on a great game. I got about 2 handshakes, the rest blanked us. It’s the one and only time where any player has refused to shake hands at the end of a game.
The team collapsed a couple of years later midway through the season leaving their secretary/manager to pay their debts. Thanks lads.
The Fencing Masters And The Fly
unknown (feel free to claim this one if it's yours)
There was once three sabre masters, a French, a Russian and a Hungarian, and they were all arguing who was the best master. The argument became rather heated, and without further ado, the French master brings out his sabre, declaring " I will show you all!" He targets one of the flies buzzing around the room, and with a swipe of his blade, the fly falls to the ground, cut neatly in half. The Russian sabre master shakes his head, "Nyet, you shall see that I am the best!" He targets another fly and with two swipes of his blade, the fly falls to the ground, it's wings neatly removed. They both stare expectantly at the Hungarian sabre master, who simply smiles and shakes his head. He targets another fly in the room, and with two swipes of his blade, the fly flies off, undisturbed. The two other sabre masters laugh and ridicule the Hungarian, who once again shakes his head and holds up hands, quietly saying "that fly will never procreate again".
Francis, Kevin
gazza007
6' 7" of pure goal machine. When he came to us people laughed, WE laughed. Little did we know when he got that first ungainly goal against Northampton that he would be the spearhead for the team for the next four years, that he would become an all-time County legend. Yes, it was blitzkrieg football at times, but we won matches, we ruffled feathers, and we were virtually invincible at home on occasions.
I don't have many heroes in sport, the obvious one being my namesake, but I have to say my biggest hero of the lot has to be the man affectionately known as 'Big Kev'. I have never seen, before or since a man more willing to run through a brick wall for this club. At his peak he was like a thoroughbred racehorse, not blessed with the skill of some of his peers, but just as deadly, in fact more deadly than most of the strikers at and around his level.
When he played, we always thought we'd get something out of the game. I really do count myself as fortunate to have seen the man from the start, right up until his departure, and although he had the odd stinker (even Maradona had them), in all that time not once did he let us down for effort and determination. If anyone ever wants to know why we support Stockport County, watch this:
Kevin Derek Michael Francis: Footballer, Hero, Legend!
Fryatt's Sideburns
Sir Roger
"Pancho" was a great header of the ball and a great goal scorer, helped by having two of the best wingers ever to grace EP, in Price and Allchurch. His partnership with Bill Atkins produced a formidable attacking force. Good days.
bringbacklenwhite
A system devised to reward the "nicest" team in the Premiership a chance to play in a tin pot second division competition across Europe. Thus giving them an extra 20 games a year in which to not get booked or sent off and be accommodating of all referees and their rubbish decisions.
It is "a combination of statistics and the spirit of the game - Rudyard Kipling meets the Duckworth- Lewis Method" (quote Harry Pearson in his book Dribble).
Mid-table sides have been known to put out a team of psychopaths in April and May just to ensure that qualification for an early June trip to Poltova or Brno is well avoided.
Forfeits
sandbachhatter
As we all know, supporting County can be hard work sometimes and it's hard to muster up enthusiasm when your team are getting battered off the park week in, week out.
So, towards the end of last season myself, Captain Beefheart and a friend of mine (let's again call him Tim) decided to spice up one of our visits to EP by adding some forfeits into the equation.
We had decided on a midday start in the Crown so even by 2pm we were well on our way to a state of inebriation (which helped with the afore-mentioned supporting of County last season) and the first challenge was to predict the time of the first goal. If memory serves, we conceded early on (ok, it's just an educated guess to be honest) which meant Beefy lost and had to do his forfeit at half time which was to eat a Chicken Balti Pie. It sounds easy (and I would have found it so) but Beefy is adverse to these particular pies and they genuinely make him ill. Needless to say, we forced him to eat it and he ended up taking a week off work. He still maintains it was the pie and blames me for choosing his forfeit but I still think he had an unrelated stomach bug as he didn't get ill until the Sunday.
Not that it matters, but mine and Tim's forfeits had both been the same - to down a pint of the lukewarm p**s that passes for Carling in the Cheadle End bar. Thankfully we didn't have to.
Anyway, Beefy got his revenge.
One of the pre-match conversations had been about Beefy's bottle of Budvar (oooh, alliteration) and whether this contained more beer than a pint glass. Not knowing how many millilitres are in a pint (we do now of course) we each had to guess. Tim, by some miracle as yet unsolved by man, managed to get the closest, followed by me then Beefy. So, the forfeit was that we could go to the loo as much as we liked pre-kick off, but as soon as the whistle went to start the match I couldn't go to the loo until Tim did, and Beefy couldn't go until I did (thus following the order of our guessing).
As any self respecting man will know (I've discounted women as they have the bladder of a camel) if you've been on the ale for a good few hours and then attend a football game, you have a window of around 3 minutes between realising you need a pee, and going into full body spasm with the pain.
Needless to say, around 20 minutes into the game, Tim said he needed the loo. Beefy and I were relieved as we were getting pretty desperate too but, upon hearing this, Tim (the stubborn get) decided he would try and hold on. And hold on he did, right through half time and into the second half. This was despite him being in agony with the urgency to pee, and despite protests from the two of us who were by now adopting a pose in our seats in UT2 akin to the foetal position.
Tim finally gave in and nipped down to the loo at around 80 minutes, by which point I was in so much pain anyway and engrossed in the game (which makes it a miracle I can't remember which match it was as I think I only became 'engrossed' twice last season) that I decided to hold on until full time, much to the annoyance of Beefy who by this point had already dialled "9, 9..." on his mobile and was hovering over the '9' button to hit it when his bladder did finally explode.
Sure enough, I lasted until full time and so both Beefy and I ran (in a kind of bandy-legged way) to the toilets. I joined the queue for the urinals (sorry Sirius, but I'm painting a picture here) and Beefy decided the cubicle queue would be quicker. Sure enough, I looked to my right to see him going through the door and sticking two fingers up at me, at which point I mouthed "You can't go until I do."
I won't repeat what I heard him shout in my direction.
Anyway, I did say he got his revenge. As I got to the urinal and 'began' I heard a voice from the cubicle. "Have you started yet?"
Bear in mind this was a packed toilet by this point. I decided to ignore him. "I said, HAVE YOU STARTED YET?"
Realising he wasn't going to give up, I angrily whispered 'Yes'.
"What was that? Have you started to wee yet?!"
"YES!"
At which point most of the toilet began laughing at me.
Utter git.
Fudgie/Fudge, Big
bigfudge
Picture a circa 1990 Dudley, Warring Baggies and Wolves fans taking their toll on the city but in Wordsley Hospital, a young man had just been born, a young man by the name of Fudge, of course this was before he had earned the prefix 'big' however this industrial Midlands City was only destined for 2 years of Fudge as in 1992, his father decided the grass was greener on the other side (of the Atlantic!) and moved with littlefudge in tow, to the land of his ancestors, in Vancouver in The Great White North of Canada!
After only four short years, the Fudgie family was on their way back to Jolly Old England, but not before littlefudge had discovered the joys of Ice Hockey, even at such a young and naive age, this young man could definitely see the good points of getting some massive Russians, putting them on ice with sticks and giving them licence to fight, however upon arriving in the new home of Stockport, Fudge fell in love with another sport, Football.
The years went by and despite at first supporting Manchester United because everybody else did, his father sent him down the Old Gold path to Wolverhampton, to support Robbie Keane and Steve Bull in their notoriously unsuccessful promotion bids in the late 90's but due to a combination of free tickets from School and a growing sense of hometown pride he found his way into the Blue and White of Stockport County, whom he remains a fan of to this day.
The young man worked very hard in School, Priestnall School to be precise and in the whole 5 years only missed 4 days of School, twice through being on holiday, once through being too ill to move and once because he thought that the school holidays ended the next day, however the hard work was all worth it as the effort was refelected in all of the A*'s and A's acheived in the GCSE's/O-Levels, of course during this time was the 16th Birthday, when he finally came of age and earned the Big, before his name!
College soon went by, with again, a lot of effort and a lot of wasted days when he could have had fun but was too obsessed with Studying, Working and playing Ice Hockey, at the end of college BigFudge showed a shocking lack of ambition by turning down an interview with Cambridge University because he wanted to stay local, something that he still kicks himself about, he successfully studied Computer Science and Journalism at The University of Manchester for 2 years and will spend the next academic year in Vancouver finishing his degree and hopefully taking his Hockey to the next level, he is hoping to feed his love for the Vancouver Canucks during his spell over there and may well stay in Vancouver, the story doesn't end here, in fact it's just beginning!
ORDER NOW! The Deluxe Hardback edition from any good bookstore, to read about the juicy parts of The Life of Fudge, The first fight, the first detention, the first sending off, the first 'time', the first pet and of course, the first post on County Heaven, all for the bargain price of £39.99
Frido Supreme
bringbacklenwhite
The SBS of footballs. If Frido made biscuits they would have to be Chocolate Hobnobs.
The Frido Supreme has made many a great impression on youngsters' thighs, foreheads and nether regions. Best played with in below zero temperatures, where standing in the defensive wall was akin to standing up in the First World War Trenches and shouting at the enemy to turn the volume and lead content down a bit.
Produced in either white or brown (the best choice as it didn't show up the "smear of fear" amassed after a direct hit on the backside) it was the football least susceptible to penetration from thorns.
Having succombed to a said "pr**k", the ball was easily mended using a hot poker. Try doing that with the "ballooons in use nowadays.
Five Frenchmen
hatter in macc
They all played for County in recent years, but are they remembered for being magnifique (or even macc-nifique), ordinaire or abominable?
In chronological order:
Joel Cantona (1994)
Had a brief spell on our books towards the end of the last full Bergara season (1993/94) - although his turning out for County had little to do with aptitude for the game, and everything to do with being able to have a base in the North West so that bother Eric, up the road, could enjoy a bit of family contact. Cantona Minor looked permanently bemused on the pitch, and offered little other than curiosity value. A cross between an enigma and a French farce.
Ooh La La rating: ** DEUX POINTS (un pour l'énigmatique).
Laurent D'Jaffo (1999-2000)
Front-line striker, born in France and holder of three caps for Bénin. Played in the season of our orange change-strip, thereby transforming, at certain away-games, into Laurent D'Jaffa (boom, tish!). Not a bad goals-to-matches ratio, at one in three, although his misses were more numerous and memorable.
Ooh La La rating: *** TROIS POINTS.
Karim Fradin (1999-2003)
Ah - a bit more like it. Often seen to shrug in a Gallic way? Check. Unpredictably and frustratingly drifting in and out of the game at the drop of a chapeau? Check. Nice hair? Check (or so I'm led to believe...). Capable of moments of unexpected brilliance? Check: his twenty-five yard 'Karim-a screamer' in the Third Round Cup-tie at Preston still rates as one of the top ten County goals ever in my book.
Ooh La La rating: **** QUATRE POINTS.
Mansour Assoumani (2010-2011)
Another French-born player who, rather astonishingly, was capped once - but only the once, mind - by his country (Mali). Won himself a contract with County after a series of seriously-quite-impressive performances against the likes of Skelmersdale and Northwich Vics, but after those moments had passed - and, it has to be said, a half-decent goal at Macc early on in the season-proper - it all went downhill for Mani, whose casual ways and gangly legs combined to cause all manner of shenanigans in our central defence (such as it was...).
Ooh La La rating: ** DEUX POINTS (un pour l'effort).
Nabil Brahim-Bounab (2011-20??)
While Mani may very well have struggled to hold down a place in our Conference side, NB-B has already proved beyond doubt that he does. Not, one would suspect, a player who will either be around for the long haul back to the promised land of League Two, or be remembered by future generations of Heaveners as a cause célèbre...
Ooh La La rating: * UN POINT.
Merci et bon nuit!
Football Association (The)
bringbacklenwhite
A bunch of sycophantic, jumped up, no-bods who enjoy wearing blazers with badges and troughing expensive lunches whilst making a great fist of cocking up the English game of football.
They would be totally incapable of finding their own arses with both hands in their back pockets.
Please feel free to add to the post with you own opinions.
Fabio Capello
bigfudge
Former England manager who was in charge for the 2010 World Cup campaign and the 2012 European Championship's Qualifying campagin, he is also the man wanted by police for the murder of John Terry!
Fiveways FC
unknown (feel free to claim this one if it's yours)
As promised in Week B, my most hated team.
I’d always enjoyed some hard-fought battles against Fiveways. Their manager (whose name I’ve forgotten) was a great bloke. He was always at Torkington Park early to put the nets up and corner flags out. The players didn’t need to lift a finger. He also came over to us, as the away team, for a chat whilst handing over the card.
Somehow they ended up relegated to our division due to a points deduction which I think had something to do with playing an illegible player.
About 4 or 5 games into the season we met them at our place and were soundly beaten. Their centre-back told me that was their first win as they’d had a terrible start. We played them at our place the week after in the Cup and were beaten again. At the same time, Cale Green were winning every game and were sitting at the top of the division.
I think we managed to be one of the only teams to take any points off Cale Green that season but we had a pretty decent side at the time. Fiveways were playing catch-up all season but catching up they were as they hadn’t dropped any points since beating us near the start of the season.
Then, with two games remaining, we played them up at their place on a Thursday night due to fixture congestion from a particularly bad winter. They needed a win to have any chance of overturning Cale Green for top spot. We were sitting 3rd and couldn’t finish any higher, all we could play for was pride.
It was a soaking wet pitch that was cutting up badly as the rain fell, perfect for players like me with limited skill. We surprised them by having the nerve to go 1-0 up. It didn’t last as they equalised soon after. They were desperate for the win and were duly gutted when we scored again with about 20 minutes remaining. Then they threw everything at us. We defended for all our worth but near the end their centre-back dived at full stretch to head the dreaded second equaliser.
The match finished 2-2 and as always we went over to shake hands and congratulate each other on a great game. I got about 2 handshakes, the rest blanked us. It’s the one and only time where any player has refused to shake hands at the end of a game.
The team collapsed a couple of years later midway through the season leaving their secretary/manager to pay their debts. Thanks lads.
The Fencing Masters And The Fly
unknown (feel free to claim this one if it's yours)
There was once three sabre masters, a French, a Russian and a Hungarian, and they were all arguing who was the best master. The argument became rather heated, and without further ado, the French master brings out his sabre, declaring " I will show you all!" He targets one of the flies buzzing around the room, and with a swipe of his blade, the fly falls to the ground, cut neatly in half. The Russian sabre master shakes his head, "Nyet, you shall see that I am the best!" He targets another fly and with two swipes of his blade, the fly falls to the ground, it's wings neatly removed. They both stare expectantly at the Hungarian sabre master, who simply smiles and shakes his head. He targets another fly in the room, and with two swipes of his blade, the fly flies off, undisturbed. The two other sabre masters laugh and ridicule the Hungarian, who once again shakes his head and holds up hands, quietly saying "that fly will never procreate again".
Francis, Kevin
gazza007
6' 7" of pure goal machine. When he came to us people laughed, WE laughed. Little did we know when he got that first ungainly goal against Northampton that he would be the spearhead for the team for the next four years, that he would become an all-time County legend. Yes, it was blitzkrieg football at times, but we won matches, we ruffled feathers, and we were virtually invincible at home on occasions.
I don't have many heroes in sport, the obvious one being my namesake, but I have to say my biggest hero of the lot has to be the man affectionately known as 'Big Kev'. I have never seen, before or since a man more willing to run through a brick wall for this club. At his peak he was like a thoroughbred racehorse, not blessed with the skill of some of his peers, but just as deadly, in fact more deadly than most of the strikers at and around his level.
When he played, we always thought we'd get something out of the game. I really do count myself as fortunate to have seen the man from the start, right up until his departure, and although he had the odd stinker (even Maradona had them), in all that time not once did he let us down for effort and determination. If anyone ever wants to know why we support Stockport County, watch this:
Kevin Derek Michael Francis: Footballer, Hero, Legend!
Fryatt's Sideburns
Sir Roger
"Pancho" was a great header of the ball and a great goal scorer, helped by having two of the best wingers ever to grace EP, in Price and Allchurch. His partnership with Bill Atkins produced a formidable attacking force. Good days.