Villa-related family (or non-family) memories

[Nev]

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.

[Villan For Life]

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.

[The Left Side]

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

[RugbyVilla]

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

[Legion]

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...

[Witton Warrior]

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.

[Legion]

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.

[dave shelley]

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.

[The Left Side]

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

[JD]

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.   

[Damo70]

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).

[the-farmer]

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 ?

[Legion]

I'm sure it was Tony Butler. Prayer mats and all that.

[Pat McMahon]

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".

[Legion]

You are correct. Butler in the studio, Gavin at the stadium.