We didn’t get to many games but I think our late one was at Molinieux. A big roar from the crowd as we entered the stadium which we assumed was a goal but, no, Trevor Hockey had got sent off. He didn’t play that many games for Norwich and memory is a bit foggy but I seem to remember him as being a bit of a liability.

Mind you, I think Norwich’s regular centre half could pick up a few bookings. Though I liked him and he gave many years good service for the club both as a player and later on the staff. Last I heard of him, reported on local tv, he was in a nursing home with Alzheimers. I guess it can strike anyone but he was another of the players where the impact of frequent heading of the ball was questioned. Apparently before the illness struck, he would pride himself on being able to listen to the football scores read out and recite them all accurately.

Only local interest I suppose but he was popular and a one time “hero” of mine though if I could have emulated anyone, it would have been Kevin Keelan, a goalkeeper with quick reactions and capable of quite instinctive saves.

Unlike Steve’s (jesting) “I could have been someone” (to which a Pogues line could come to mind…), I don’t think I’d have gone anywhere in sport. I did play in goal in primary school and 1st and 2nd year secondary school but lost confidence after heavy defeats against both Caernarfon and Aberconwy. I might have tried to pick up again when we moved to Kent but the school was one season hockey and one rugby union (neither of which I liked at the time, never got on with hockey and being left handed or then saw a point in rugby) but would never have made the grade, plus most goalies seem to be over six foot and I never grew that big.

Cricket. I suppose in my dreams, I could have batted like Viv Richards or bowled like Michael Holding – WI had loads of talented players when I started to take an interest in test cricket in the 70s but, realistically, the only thing I was reasonably able at was catching a ball. Even then, not that marvellous – I’ve seen plenty where I can wonder just how in the hell the fielder even got to the ball – others where I may feel that Boycott’s granny as well as me couldn’t possibly have made such a hash of things.