Football Crazy by Terry Ravenscroft, Ravenscroft Page A
Authors: Terry Ravenscroft, Ravenscroft
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made would be unlikely to affect him very much beyond then.
He wondered about Price though, and the pie manufacturer's sudden involvement with the club from absolutely nowhere; as far as he could recollect Price had never shown the remotest interest in the club. He admitted though that this judgement might be doing Price a disservice as he himself had only been with the club since 1968 and it was possible Price might have been a regular visitor to Offal Road in the early sixties when the club, if not in their pomp, were still a decent First Division side. Maybe Price's visits, like those of so many other fans of long ago, had dropped off in direct proportion to the team's fortunes on the field?
This was neither confirmed nor unconfirmed when Price had telephoned George the day after news of the takeover broke. After exchanging pleasantries, or as near as Price ever got to pleasantries, the new owner of the club informed George that he would be visiting his new acquisition the following Tuesday at ten a.m. on the button, and that George and Donny were to make themselves available. George had remarked that before the takeover he hadn't been aware that Price was even interested in football, never having seen him at a Frogley match. Price had replied that it was precisely because he was interested in football that George had never seen him at a Frogley match as there had been fat bloody chance of him ever seeing any there.
To Martin Sneed it meant he had found a new enemy. Price had got on the wrong side of him by telling the national newspapers about the takeover before the Advertiser had had the chance to reveal the news. Well Martin Sneed would show him! His articles and match reports on the Town's fortunes might have been scathing in the past but they were as nothing to what they would be like in the future.
Price hadn't seen anything from him yet! Headlines continually jumped into his mind. 'Frogley Town – The Team You Wouldn't Pay To Watch At Any Price'. 'Another Stale Performance From The Pie Men'. 'The Price Is Wrong For Frogley Town'. Snatches of copy followed - 'If ever the meat wagon fails to show up at Price's Pies factory leaving them short of filling for their meat and potato pies Joe Price need look no further than the Town back four for an adequate substitute to mix in with the potato'. 'Price may be a success as a meat pie manufacturer but it takes more than filling a pastry case with meat, fat, gristle, sinew, offal, bone, snot and God knows what else that goes into his pies, to make a successful football team, as last week's dire performance clearly demonstrated'. 'The Town played so badly that when three of the players picked up bookings the referee, instead of giving them yellow cards, would have been more than justified in exposing them as the cripples they are by handing them green cards'.
Even the muse struck him.
Simple Simon met a Pieman
The Pieman was Joe Price
Said Simple Simon to the Pieman
Frogley, Conference, in a trice
Sneed rubbed his hands together. The new season couldn't come too quickly for him.
To Superintendent Screwer it meant there would probably be even more football hooligans to deal with. It was a simple equation - more money to spend equals bigger crowds equals more hooliganism. But it wouldn't be anything he couldn't handle. They wouldn't be dealing with his predecessor at Frogley, that soft touch Superintendent Soft Twat or whatever he was called, the barmy bastard whose apparent method of policing football matches was to get Constable Balfour to drop in. Not a bit of it. Things would be different. They would be facing Superintendent Herman Screwer now. They would be dealing with a man who had previously held the unofficial all police divisions in-house record for personally braining football hooligans for four years on the bounce; and some of the bastards he’d brained had bounced!
Screwer’s stunning performance, in both senses of the word, was nine hooligans and a
He wondered about Price though, and the pie manufacturer's sudden involvement with the club from absolutely nowhere; as far as he could recollect Price had never shown the remotest interest in the club. He admitted though that this judgement might be doing Price a disservice as he himself had only been with the club since 1968 and it was possible Price might have been a regular visitor to Offal Road in the early sixties when the club, if not in their pomp, were still a decent First Division side. Maybe Price's visits, like those of so many other fans of long ago, had dropped off in direct proportion to the team's fortunes on the field?
This was neither confirmed nor unconfirmed when Price had telephoned George the day after news of the takeover broke. After exchanging pleasantries, or as near as Price ever got to pleasantries, the new owner of the club informed George that he would be visiting his new acquisition the following Tuesday at ten a.m. on the button, and that George and Donny were to make themselves available. George had remarked that before the takeover he hadn't been aware that Price was even interested in football, never having seen him at a Frogley match. Price had replied that it was precisely because he was interested in football that George had never seen him at a Frogley match as there had been fat bloody chance of him ever seeing any there.
To Martin Sneed it meant he had found a new enemy. Price had got on the wrong side of him by telling the national newspapers about the takeover before the Advertiser had had the chance to reveal the news. Well Martin Sneed would show him! His articles and match reports on the Town's fortunes might have been scathing in the past but they were as nothing to what they would be like in the future.
Price hadn't seen anything from him yet! Headlines continually jumped into his mind. 'Frogley Town – The Team You Wouldn't Pay To Watch At Any Price'. 'Another Stale Performance From The Pie Men'. 'The Price Is Wrong For Frogley Town'. Snatches of copy followed - 'If ever the meat wagon fails to show up at Price's Pies factory leaving them short of filling for their meat and potato pies Joe Price need look no further than the Town back four for an adequate substitute to mix in with the potato'. 'Price may be a success as a meat pie manufacturer but it takes more than filling a pastry case with meat, fat, gristle, sinew, offal, bone, snot and God knows what else that goes into his pies, to make a successful football team, as last week's dire performance clearly demonstrated'. 'The Town played so badly that when three of the players picked up bookings the referee, instead of giving them yellow cards, would have been more than justified in exposing them as the cripples they are by handing them green cards'.
Even the muse struck him.
Simple Simon met a Pieman
The Pieman was Joe Price
Said Simple Simon to the Pieman
Frogley, Conference, in a trice
Sneed rubbed his hands together. The new season couldn't come too quickly for him.
To Superintendent Screwer it meant there would probably be even more football hooligans to deal with. It was a simple equation - more money to spend equals bigger crowds equals more hooliganism. But it wouldn't be anything he couldn't handle. They wouldn't be dealing with his predecessor at Frogley, that soft touch Superintendent Soft Twat or whatever he was called, the barmy bastard whose apparent method of policing football matches was to get Constable Balfour to drop in. Not a bit of it. Things would be different. They would be facing Superintendent Herman Screwer now. They would be dealing with a man who had previously held the unofficial all police divisions in-house record for personally braining football hooligans for four years on the bounce; and some of the bastards he’d brained had bounced!
Screwer’s stunning performance, in both senses of the word, was nine hooligans and a
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