I stumbled across this page of my juvenile diary in July 2018, while searching for something completely different.
For those viewers of this page with reading difficulties – which, in the context of my handwriting, means “everyone, even to some extent me” – the Saturday entry reads:
went to first soccer match – Chelsea v Midsbro concert mum & dad Trial by Jury
I’ll write a seperate piece about that little concert series quite soon, but the only element of the concert business that affects this blog post is the strange juxtaposition of spending Saturday afternoon at Stamford Bridge, then traversing London to play in an Alleyn’s School concert early that evening.
I’m struggling to recall what happened, but my only memories of going to Stamford Bridge include Andy Levinson, who was keen on Chelsea (at least he was at that time). I do have a memory of going up to Stamford Bridge with Andy on the bus and watching a match, but I think that must have been some time after this first one.
I do recall that Andy was also involved in that lower school concert. More on that anon.
But in any case, I find it hard – almost impossible – to believe that our parents would have allowed us find our own way to a football match and then make our own way from Stamford Bridge to Alleyn’s School to play in that concert. I have a funny feeling that Norman Levinson (Andy’s dad) might have taken us to that first football match and chauffeured us from Chelsea to Dulwich after the match, while my parents probably took Marjory (Andy’s mum) from Woodfield Avenue to the concert.
Andy and I were pretty independent 12-year olds…but I don’t think we’d have been allowed to be quite THAT independent in March 1975. I hope Andy has better recollection of what happened than me. If Andy does chime in, naturally I’ll add his resultant thoughts to this piece.
Of course, the internet allows me to find out everything I could possibly want to know about the match in question and more besides.
Here is a link to the 11v11.com entry for this match.
I was delighted to discover that the Chelsea team that day included Ron “Chopper” Harris… click here to see Ron Harris...whose name (and association with mine) had coincidentally come up in conversation during the MCC v HAC tennis match only a few days before I made this diary discovery.
Other names that leap out of that team sheet page at me are John Hollins, Ray Wilkins, Jim Platt and Graeme Souness. But perhaps several others are hugely famous and I am simply showing my profound lack of football knowledge.
The result wouldn’t have pleased Andy; nor me I suppose, with Middlesbrough prevailing 2-1. Younger readers who might mistakenly think that “League Division One” is something quite lowly should rest assured that the division named thus in those days was the very top, crème de la crème, division.
Most of the football I saw at that age was at White Hart Lane, where Stanley Benjamin would sometimes take me (and Andy too on occasion) if some members of Stanley’s family were away and thus he had one or more season tickets to spare.
But this very first one…if Andy’s memory can’t help I suspect the rest of the story is lost for ever in the mists of time.
Postscript
Andy Levinson writes:
What a team they, Chelsea, were! I remember we sat yes in the posh seats. I don’t remember that specific match but I suspect you are absolutely right that we would have been chauffeured there by dad and on to Alleyn’s after as we were both involved in the concert!
I do remember that we were able to get autographs from the players as their only access from their gym pre match was via the public stairwells in the stand and our seats were not far from the gym. Sadly I think I threw away my autograph book that had any of the signatures of the Chelsea team of those “golden years”!
I’m glad that is resolved. I’m also glad that the “partial memory” I had invoked in myself of Norman Levinson sitting with us at the football, gently smoking his pipe while the match played out, must be a genuine one.
I don’t think I joined you in the getting of autographs though, Andy. I always remember somewhat recoiling from doing that and quite early in life resolving not to be an autograph hunter. But it is also possible that, on that occasion, my first, that I joined in and that my “collection” of autographs also failed to make it through time’s relentless journey.