Heroes & Villains, the Aston Villa fanzine
Heroes & Villains => Villa Memories => Topic started by: fbriai on March 16, 2011, 01:14:26 PM
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I've just been reading through the 'A memorial' thread and it got me thinking. I don't know whether my great-grandfather, mentioned in that thread, was a Villa fan, but his only daughter definitely was, as was her husband, and, thanks to them, generations of Villa fans have been born. While contemplating that, I remembered how Gran would sit in her old armchair of a Sunday afternoon, knitting away, and, if the Villa were on the telly, would always pay particular attention when 'our kid', Kevin Richardson, was playing, Richardson being her maiden name.
There must be loads of people who have similar kinds of little memories of people. So, what other Villa-related family, or non-family for that matter, memories do you have?
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My Dad started going down VP in the 1930s and would often talk about the record crowd in 1946 against Derby and the 4-6 defeat to Man U in 1948. My Mom was also a big Villa fan and as a child she lived in Electric Avenue and she could remember the crowds on match days which would have been back in the 1920s.
Back in the 3rd division days, we used to take along the elderly father-in-law of someone my Dad worked with. I can remember we would pick him up on the way from where he lived just over Gravelly Hill. Without fail he would always be at the window ready and waiting with his claret and blue scarf on. He had been to the FA Cup Final in 1905 when we beat Newcastle 2-0 and came along with us to the 1971 LC final.
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My nan and grandad were both Villa fans and lived in Mere Green. My nan used to have her hair cut by somebody called [Aunty] Pauline, who had a parrot that used to say "Up the Villa!"
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There's a whole bloody forum of Villa Memories on here! ;-)
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Very true, BBE!
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My Grand mother lived in Aston, I lived there for quite a few of my early years and I could see the Holte End from my bedroom window.
That and her regaling me with stories of how brilliant Villa used to be (this was the early 70's) ensured that i'd be a Villa supporter for life.
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My mum - not being a football fan - used to get Dalian Atkinson and Tony Daley mixed up. To her it would be Tony Dalian or Daley Atkinson, Tony Atkinson and Dalian Daley. Used to have me in stitches.
My dad was a WBA fan in the early 70s but got into Villa when i did.
My missus being a southern lass was an Arsenal fan but now has the Villa bug and finally got to her first match at Villa Park for the FA Cup tie with Blackburn this season. I knew i'd converted her when she agreed to have one of those mini kits - last seasons Acorns kit - in the back of her car.
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My partner believes she is the decendant of one of the original founders of Aston Villa.
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I remember as a kid being told about being part of a long line of Villa fans. The direct male line in our family went back to the 1890s, if not earlier. Typically as a kid I didn't really pay much attention to what grandad was saying etc, and by the time I was old enough to be really interested both he and my dad were in the Holte in the sky and there was no one left to tell me more. Being the last of the direct line and having no kids, it's always bothered me that the family name goes with me, but maybe more importantly, more than a century of Villa support goes.
But on a brighter note, here is an old pic of my dad with the FA Cup in 1957. He's the youngster on the right, and the chap with his hand on his shoulder is his dad. The lad on the left was his best mate Bob, a Wolves fan. I reckon the photo was probably taken at a pub in Cradley.
I've probably bored you all to death now, so here is the photo of a rather battered photo.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v436/EnglishPride2004/IMG_1750.jpg)
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I did my family tree recently, and uncovered a fair amount of stuff.
My entire family on both sides, moved from various bits of the countryside around Brum in the middle 19th century, and moved to the Aston area. My great great grandfather worked at the mineral water company which was located on the Aston Lower grounds prior to Villa moving to Villa Park, and supported the club week in week out.
His son, my gt grandfather, was "a bit of a character" and would never miss a home game. My gran, who is 95 now, talks of how, when we'd lost, he'd come home when the pubs shut, pissed as a fart, and smash the house up while my gran and her sister hid.
My other great grandfather did quite well for himself, from being brought up in a back to back to penniless parents, became a builder and had his own company, and had his season ticket, and used to buy them for all the grandkids, as well as for some of his employees.
I remember when my grandfather was dying, he'd been in hospital for a few days and I'd been stoically tough about it, determined not to cry or get upset when visiting him, but the last time he spoke to me, he clenched my hand and said "up the villa", and i absolutely lost it, floods of tears.
It could have all gone badly wrong for me, as my Dad is a nose, but as my mother had two Villa mental brothers, and i was the first child in the family, they took it upon themselves to make sure I followed the path of the righteous, took me to my first games, etc etc. They, and their wives, kids and kids' partners, still go. I see them every home game, sitting below us and to the right a bit in the Middle Trinity, a dozen or so of them
That's the thing, i guess, we all moan and get pissed off about the Villa, but the club just gets so engrained, it's hard to fully shake it off, even if you wanted to.
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During the 1935-6 season my Dad was a single man of 22 years of age. He worked Saturday mornings and one Saturday a workmate said "Going down the Villa this afternoon, Ray?" "Yeah," said my old man, "Well come to think of it no, sod em. I don't think I can take any more of that crap." It was a desperate season and the more Villa spent on new players the worse they got, the season eventually culminating in relegation for the first time in their history.
And so he stayed at home.
To his dying day he was never quite sure whether it had been a good decision or a bad one. He was happy he hadn't seen the Villa getting absolutely murdered by the Arsenal but also felt he'd missed being able to say for the rest of his life "I saw Ted Drake score seven."
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I was, and remain, the only Villa fan in my immediate family. Don't think there are any amongst the not-so immediate family either.
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I've mentioned on here before that my love of the Villa stems from my maternal grandfather, so here are a few random Villa memories I have of our bond together:
- He and my Uncle George were season ticket holders and were lucky enough to support the club from probably the late 30's to 2007, which was when my grandad passed away. They saw all the trophies won in that period being won, as well as relegations, boardroom upheaval, the works. So they were both at Rotterdam, but my grandad told me he didn't enjoy it much. I asked him why, astounded. On the way to get their coach, my grandad managed to trip over a low wall and hurt himself, and consequently watched Villa's finest hour with three broken ribs and in utter agony. I now carry his EC supporter's club card with me to every match, so he's always with me.
- He used to drink in the Hardwick Arms, Streetly, and the Irish Harp in Little Aston. Whenever Paul Merson popped in of a lunchtime, he would always buy him a pint, seemingly unware the man was a recovering alcoholic.
- In the first 1977 LC Final, he and my nan somehow found themselves seated in a knot of Everton fans. My nan was proud of the fact they shared their tuna sandwiches with the Scousers and had nothing else to report about the game.
- He was on friendly terms with Sir Graham, and before a house fire I had his autograph on about six random objects, including a financial end of year report from the club because it was the only theing either of them had to hand.
- He delivered flowers to player's wives on matchday mornings, so every summer he would drive me round the posh parts of the Midlands pointing out where all the players lived. I have also met Ron Atkinson's missus, who was dressed in a nightie when she answered the door.
- After dropping me off after every match, he would get a bunch of flowers out of the boot of his car, telling me to give them to my mum as thanks for letting me go to the football.
- I came home from uni especially to watch the 2000 FA Cup Final on telly with him. I promised him when I got to go to Wembley, he'd be with me. When I went down last April for the semi-final, it wasn't until I went through all my photos from the day that I realised the seat next to me had been unoccupied.
- Our first match together was on 20th April 1989, a 0-0 against Manchester United. The last game we saw together was the 3-0 pre-season friendly against Inter Milan. He died in the early hours of the morning following a 3-1 home win over Reading. I was with him all through the game, telling him what was happening. Hopefully, he could hear me.
Like I say, just a few memories.
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my Grandad was a friend of Eric Houghton, he was also my Aunties Godfather
he lived at Whittington, near Lichfield at the time
An old boy I know, now in his early 70s recently told me that Grandad said knock on the big green doors (in the 50s) at Villa Park & tell them that Charlie Mann sent you. The doors would open & he was told "in you come kid" in for free
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Recently found out that my Nan lived next door to Alan Deakin during the War and in the immediate post-war years.
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My dad came over from Ireland in the fifties, he travelled around a fair bit, various parts of Greater Manchester including Wigan (where he had a cousin), and Warrington and then for six months in North Wales.
He then ended up in Nottingham where he stayed until the work dried up and decided to chance his arm in London. He then arrived at the station and made a fairly significant decision and opted for Birmingham at the last minute, and he's been here ever since.
He lodged in Small Heath, as many Irish immigrants did and the gang he got in with at the local pub took him to the Villa and that was that. I asked him if he did the Villa one week and the Sty the next, he said that the gang were Villa and that was that, he also added that he had never set foot in the Sty in his life.
Nice one dad.
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I've mentioned on here before that my love of the Villa stems from my maternal grandfather, so here are a few random Villa memories I have of our bond together:
- He and my Uncle George were season ticket holders and were lucky enough to support the club from probably the late 30's to 2007, which was when my grandad passed away. They saw all the trophies won in that period being won, as well as relegations, boardroom upheaval, the works. So they were both at Rotterdam, but my grandad told me he didn't enjoy it much. I asked him why, astounded. On the way to get their coach, my grandad managed to trip over a low wall and hurt himself, and consequently watched Villa's finest hour with three broken ribs and in utter agony. I now carry his EC supporter's club card with me to every match, so he's always with me.
- He used to drink in the Hardwick Arms, Streetly, and the Irish Harp in Little Aston. Whenever Paul Merson popped in of a lunchtime, he would always buy him a pint, seemingly unware the man was a recovering alcoholic.
- In the first 1977 LC Final, he and my nan somehow found themselves seated in a knot of Everton fans. My nan was proud of the fact they shared their tuna sandwiches with the Scousers and had nothing else to report about the game.
- He was on friendly terms with Sir Graham, and before a house fire I had his autograph on about six random objects, including a financial end of year report from the club because it was the only theing either of them had to hand.
- He delivered flowers to player's wives on matchday mornings, so every summer he would drive me round the posh parts of the Midlands pointing out where all the players lived. I have also met Ron Atkinson's missus, who was dressed in a nightie when she answered the door.
- After dropping me off after every match, he would get a bunch of flowers out of the boot of his car, telling me to give them to my mum as thanks for letting me go to the football.
- I came home from uni especially to watch the 2000 FA Cup Final on telly with him. I promised him when I got to go to Wembley, he'd be with me. When I went down last April for the semi-final, it wasn't until I went through all my photos from the day that I realised the seat next to me had been unoccupied.
- Our first match together was on 20th April 1989, a 0-0 against Manchester United. The last game we saw together was the 3-0 pre-season friendly against Inter Milan. He died in the early hours of the morning following a 3-1 home win over Reading. I was with him all through the game, telling him what was happening. Hopefully, he could hear me.
Like I say, just a few memories.
Those words are lovely. What golden memories.
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I've mentioned on here before that my love of the Villa stems from my maternal grandfather, so here are a few random Villa memories I have of our bond together:
- He and my Uncle George were season ticket holders and were lucky enough to support the club from probably the late 30's to 2007, which was when my grandad passed away. They saw all the trophies won in that period being won, as well as relegations, boardroom upheaval, the works. So they were both at Rotterdam, but my grandad told me he didn't enjoy it much. I asked him why, astounded. On the way to get their coach, my grandad managed to trip over a low wall and hurt himself, and consequently watched Villa's finest hour with three broken ribs and in utter agony. I now carry his EC supporter's club card with me to every match, so he's always with me.
- He used to drink in the Hardwick Arms, Streetly, and the Irish Harp in Little Aston. Whenever Paul Merson popped in of a lunchtime, he would always buy him a pint, seemingly unware the man was a recovering alcoholic.
- In the first 1977 LC Final, he and my nan somehow found themselves seated in a knot of Everton fans. My nan was proud of the fact they shared their tuna sandwiches with the Scousers and had nothing else to report about the game.
- He was on friendly terms with Sir Graham, and before a house fire I had his autograph on about six random objects, including a financial end of year report from the club because it was the only theing either of them had to hand.
- He delivered flowers to player's wives on matchday mornings, so every summer he would drive me round the posh parts of the Midlands pointing out where all the players lived. I have also met Ron Atkinson's missus, who was dressed in a nightie when she answered the door.
- After dropping me off after every match, he would get a bunch of flowers out of the boot of his car, telling me to give them to my mum as thanks for letting me go to the football.
- I came home from uni especially to watch the 2000 FA Cup Final on telly with him. I promised him when I got to go to Wembley, he'd be with me. When I went down last April for the semi-final, it wasn't until I went through all my photos from the day that I realised the seat next to me had been unoccupied.
- Our first match together was on 20th April 1989, a 0-0 against Manchester United. The last game we saw together was the 3-0 pre-season friendly against Inter Milan. He died in the early hours of the morning following a 3-1 home win over Reading. I was with him all through the game, telling him what was happening. Hopefully, he could hear me.
Like I say, just a few memories.
Those words are lovely. What golden memories.
Absolutely, makes you proud to be a Villan
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Hi Villa fans.
I am the author of The Gerry Hitchens Story and The Bobby Thomson Story and I am currently compiling a book full of Villa memories from fans, celebs and ex-players which is being published in October.
Nigel Kennedy is providing a foreword for the book and it is being backed by the Former Players Association and AVFC.
I would love to use your stories or memories of anything Villa.
My email address is simongoodyear@soccerbiographies.com or call me on 07786267752
My deadline is the end of April so time is short. I look forward to your reply. Please could you supply your name and district you live in for reference in the book?
If you have any pictures that would be great if you could email that as well?
Many thanks,
Simon Goodyear
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I've mentioned on here before that my love of the Villa stems from my maternal grandfather, so here are a few random Villa memories I have of our bond together:
- He and my Uncle George were season ticket holders and were lucky enough to support the club from probably the late 30's to 2007, which was when my grandad passed away. They saw all the trophies won in that period being won, as well as relegations, boardroom upheaval, the works. So they were both at Rotterdam, but my grandad told me he didn't enjoy it much. I asked him why, astounded. On the way to get their coach, my grandad managed to trip over a low wall and hurt himself, and consequently watched Villa's finest hour with three broken ribs and in utter agony. I now carry his EC supporter's club card with me to every match, so he's always with me.
- He used to drink in the Hardwick Arms, Streetly, and the Irish Harp in Little Aston. Whenever Paul Merson popped in of a lunchtime, he would always buy him a pint, seemingly unware the man was a recovering alcoholic.
- In the first 1977 LC Final, he and my nan somehow found themselves seated in a knot of Everton fans. My nan was proud of the fact they shared their tuna sandwiches with the Scousers and had nothing else to report about the game.
- He was on friendly terms with Sir Graham, and before a house fire I had his autograph on about six random objects, including a financial end of year report from the club because it was the only theing either of them had to hand.
- He delivered flowers to player's wives on matchday mornings, so every summer he would drive me round the posh parts of the Midlands pointing out where all the players lived. I have also met Ron Atkinson's missus, who was dressed in a nightie when she answered the door.
- After dropping me off after every match, he would get a bunch of flowers out of the boot of his car, telling me to give them to my mum as thanks for letting me go to the football.
- I came home from uni especially to watch the 2000 FA Cup Final on telly with him. I promised him when I got to go to Wembley, he'd be with me. When I went down last April for the semi-final, it wasn't until I went through all my photos from the day that I realised the seat next to me had been unoccupied.
- Our first match together was on 20th April 1989, a 0-0 against Manchester United. The last game we saw together was the 3-0 pre-season friendly against Inter Milan. He died in the early hours of the morning following a 3-1 home win over Reading. I was with him all through the game, telling him what was happening. Hopefully, he could hear me.
Like I say, just a few memories.
Those words are lovely. What golden memories.
Absolutely, makes you proud to be a Villan
I think I have some grit in my eye...
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I didn't care for football until I was about 10 years old (1969) when my paternal Grandfather started talking about the Baggies and how they had won the FA Cup the year before. Because I loved the old devil I collected a few photos from the Express and Star and then Mom bought me a shirt to play at school.
That Summer my Dad started telling me about when he played sport and that he had played rugby at Villa Park and he and my Godfather used to go up and watch the matches (he regaled me with the Man United 4-6 many times). I also started at Rowley Grammar School and fell in with a fella called Terry Parks. His brother was a scooter boy/suedehead and regularly regaled us with tales of derring-do from the Holte End while playing us Judge Dredd reggae.
Well my old Grandad lost out and despite moving out of the area until 1974 I was die-hard Villan from that moment on. He still gave me fags when we went fishing or down the bookies so he can't have been that bothered. I remember walking onto the Holte for the first time (the Sunderland match to get promoted) and my first thought was "my Dad played here".
I last saw Terry Parks at the infamous Leicester 2-0 when we invaded the pitch.
Another generation has now become a Villan, my son Kal who, despite his autism, loves to go.
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Watching the European Cup Final on TV in the front room with my Dad whilst popping (on a regular basis) into the dining room to listen to the Tony Butler commentary on the radio. I was only 11 years old and was well nervous. I'll never forget the combined shout of excitement when we scored.
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I think I've posted oh here before that my old man was born in Manor Road Aston. If you had a good arm you would have been able to throw a stone into the ground from where his house stood. His father was born in 1876 just two years after the Villa were born so you can see where the tradition started. I have several memories of my father and the Villa, one of the funniest being how for the 1957 cup final he went and got a telly on approval from a local electric sales shop and beat the living shit out of it when we scored both goals. He returned it on the Monday saying it wasn't what we wanted. He took me to many memorable places over the years notably two semi-finals two years running against Forest and Wolves. To get tickets for these matches he got up at two in the morning to walk from Sheldon to join the queue and I would join him when the buses started running. I managed to get him a ticket for the League Cup final against Norwich and as his health wasn't too good I was worried but he came through it well enough. Sadly the old bugger died in January 1978 only to be replaced by my son in November the same year. I distinctly remember pointing my souvenier flag at the sky and roaring Daaaaaaad! when Peter Withe's shinner hit the back of the net that night in Rotterdam it somehow seemed a fulfillment. My son now has two boys of his own and my daughter proudly presented us with her second son last Saturday 30/04/11 to continue a long line of Villa supporters dating back to virtually the birth of the club.
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I think I've posted oh here before that my old man was born in Manor Road Aston. If you had a good arm you would have been able to throw a stone into the ground from where his house stood. His father was born in 1876 just two years after the Villa were born so you can see where the tradition started. I have several memories of my father and the Villa, one of the funniest being how for the 1957 cup final he went and got a telly on approval from a local electric sales shop and beat the living shit out of it when we scored both goals. He returned it on the Monday saying it wasn't what we wanted. He took me to many memorable places over the years notably two semi-finals two years running against Forest and Wolves. To get tickets for these matches he got up at two in the morning to walk from Sheldon to join the queue and I would join him when the buses started running. I managed to get him a ticket for the League Cup final against Norwich and as his health wasn't too good I was worried but he came through it well enough. Sadly the old bugger died in January 1978 only to be replaced by my son in November the same year. I distinctly remember pointing my souvenier flag at the sky and roaring Daaaaaaad! when Peter Withe's shinner hit the back of the net that night in Rotterdam it somehow seemed a fulfillment. My son now has two boys of his own and my daughter proudly presented us with her second son last Saturday 30/04/11 to continue a long line of Villa supporters dating back to virtually the birth of the club.
Great stuff Dave
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I think I've posted oh here before that my old man was born in Manor Road Aston. If you had a good arm you would have been able to throw a stone into the ground from where his house stood. His father was born in 1876 just two years after the Villa were born so you can see where the tradition started. I have several memories of my father and the Villa, one of the funniest being how for the 1957 cup final he went and got a telly on approval from a local electric sales shop and beat the living shit out of it when we scored both goals. He returned it on the Monday saying it wasn't what we wanted. He took me to many memorable places over the years notably two semi-finals two years running against Forest and Wolves. To get tickets for these matches he got up at two in the morning to walk from Sheldon to join the queue and I would join him when the buses started running. I managed to get him a ticket for the League Cup final against Norwich and as his health wasn't too good I was worried but he came through it well enough. Sadly the old bugger died in January 1978 only to be replaced by my son in November the same year. I distinctly remember pointing my souvenier flag at the sky and roaring Daaaaaaad! when Peter Withe's shinner hit the back of the net that night in Rotterdam it somehow seemed a fulfillment. My son now has two boys of his own and my daughter proudly presented us with her second son last Saturday 30/04/11 to continue a long line of Villa supporters dating back to virtually the birth of the club.
Dave that is a brilliant post and a great tribute to your Father. You must be very proud of him, great stuff mate.
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My dad and his brothers were Bluenoses, two of my uncles used to love ripping up my Villa posters as a kid. The family party on Boxing Night 1982 is right up there with the worst nights of my life. Luckily the two teenage lads next door put me on the right path when I was about six and they and their old man started taking me when I was eight. All these years later with marriages and births (including my own kids) I'm no longer the lone Villa fan, it's fairly evenly split between Villa fans (who go to games) and Noses (who generally don't).
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Watching the European Cup Final on TV in the front room with my Dad whilst popping (on a regular basis) into the dining room to listen to the Tony Butler commentary on the radio. I was only 11 years old and was well nervous. I'll never forget the combined shout of excitement when we scored.
I was 14
but was it George Gavin commentating ?
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I'm sure it was Tony Butler. Prayer mats and all that.
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I'm sure it was Tony Butler. Prayer mats and all that.
I was there but got my sister to tape the radio - videos were unheard of in the bad old days. The tape was played to death after a year or so but it was definitely George Gavin in the stadium (completely, utterly and incontrovertibly supporting the Villa with one eyed commentary) and Butler doing the usual prayer mat stuff in the studio "another goal would bury the Germans".
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You are correct. Butler in the studio, Gavin at the stadium.
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I wish I'd been in Rotterdam, but at least Dad took me to the semi final against Anderlecht at VP :)
Didn't Butler get the sack from BRMB for tipping a disabled DJ out of his wheelchair after a cup-tie went on into extra time ?
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Didn't Butler get the sack from BRMB for tipping a disabled DJ out of his wheelchair after a cup-tie went on into extra time ?
I think it was the over-running of a Warwickshire cricket match which led to that incident.