My complete life of supporting Bournemouth.

What a really interesting read Al, definitely book material. Look forward to all the future installments.
I was also born in Boscombe hosp but in 63 so will be checking birth certificate re registrar later. Cheers
 
Great stuff Al.

The Rev who christened me at the East Cliff UR was Rev Skilleter.

Yes I've always had a good appetite but it's not quite as good as W.Ankers ;)
 
Bournemouth 0 Liverpool 0 was my first game too. Though due to transport and living close to Poole stadium my early years were as a Poole Town supporter. Managed the occassional AFCB game but since 1981 have missed very very few home games!
 
AlGard said:
A few months ago I started to write notes down about my history of supporting Bournemouth & Boscombe Athletic, with view to putting a book together.
With my current health problems, it seemed an opportune time to start the project.
Then I realised that it was all too time consuming together, what with so many "bucket list" things to do.
So, if you don't mind, I will periodically post my Cherries memories on here. A season by season diary of what I recall, what I laughed at, what I celebrated, and what drove me to total despair at my team.

Part 1.
FORMATIVE YEARS:

It was always going to be Bournemouth. Born in Boscombe hospital 29th March 1961, for which I have proof in the form of a birth certificate signed by town registrar William Ankers, or as signed at the bottom, W.Ankers underneath my parents names.
Dad was chuffed I was born on a Wednesday, as it was a double header home weekend with the Easter fixtures on Friday and Saturday, against Watford and Chesterfield. He went to both after visiting Mum in hospital. Quite handy as those that remember Boscombe hospital will recall it was a 5 minute walk across Kings Park to Dean Court.

Dad had been going to games since 1947, and his father since just after WW1. Grandad went to our first ever league game in 1923.
He used to tell me stories about the 10-0 win v Northampton before WW2 broke out, cup runs, but not much about league games, as to be fair, we were pretty average for 47 years in the old Division 3, before achieving a promotion all be it after our first ever relegation in the 69/70 season.

My Grandparents lived in Hillbrow Road, Pokesdown, opposite Cherries legendary goalkeeper Tommy Godwin, who was at that time "The Parkie" in Kings Park. His main job being kicking kids like me off the football pitches when we were having a kick around.

They also "hosted" players who were on loan, or had just signed for the club. The most notable was Dave Simmons, on loan for a few months from Arsenal. He became famous when he scored for Colchester against Leeds in a famous FA Cup win in 1971.

Grandad wasn't allowed to smoke in the house, so he set a dartboard up in the garage and we used to play there, whilst he chugged on his Players No6. There was also a stash of bottles of Manns Brown Ale, which he used to have a crafty half along with his cigarette.

I had been to games I was told before the first ones I can recall. Maybe as early as 3 years old in the 64/65 season, but my first memory of being at a match was an FA Cup tie.
Bournemouth 0 Liverpool 0.
Packed in the New Stand from around midday to watch the superstars from Scouseland.
We were seen off when Keith East scored a perfectly good goal.

16th November 1968. Bury Town away was next, another FA Cup tie. Not the sadly defunct "Shakers" from Lancashire, but Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk.
I can remember leaving around 6am. Dad had an Austin 35 van as he was a qualified self employed plumber. This 7 year old didn't have the one remaining seat at the front, that was for Jim who worked at Kennedy's the builders, and was Dad's Mate who he went to every game with. I was on a cushion in the back, along with all the tools, pipes, guttering, and a broken hand basin, that he was going to take to the dump over in Kinson, but it was closed the day before the game, so my travelling companion was a dirty broken sink and a copy of the Beano.

It took forever. I can remember being packed in, with our fans getting half the tiny away end. I was stood around 6 rows back, on an old orange box, another of my travelling companions.
It was loud, maybe only 3,000 max in the ground. All I recall was Bury wore blue, we drew 0-0, and I loved every minute.
There was even a burger on the way home at a Wimpy before we went home. A magical day.
We won the replay, but as it was a night game, I was tucked up in bed.
Dad would always leave the programme on my bed when he got home from night games with the score and scorers filled in.
Saved me waking him up in the night asking for the score. I would wake up, read the score, and go back to sleep, mainly unhappy, but sometimes elated.

My only league recollection of a game that season was a 4-3 home defeat to Tranmere in January. We had scored a 4th, but the ref had blown the final whistle just before the ball crossed the line. Dave Simmonds had scored 2, and I think it was him whose goal was ruled out.
Next day we were round the Grandparents for Sunday lunch. Dave was there, and we all talked about the game over roast chicken and apple pie.
I was hooked, and maybe a little starstruck. Dave Simmons was my first Bournemouth hero, and he only played 7 games for us.

Part 2 tomorrow.
Click to expand...
Look forward to it Al - first paragraph alone is a classic!
 
There is quite a lot written down. More than I thought, so will put a couple a day up.
‌Part 2.
1969/70
- Relegation.

Dad had decided it would be my first full season. 8 years old, and very excited.
I had an extensive football knowledge for my age. I could pretty much name all the FA Cup winners from 1872 onwards, and if Mastermind had been around, it would have been my specialist subject. Tho' being so young, I would have lost it on the general knowledge round, with more passes than our erratic team continued to spread around all season.

We lived in Malmesbury Park Road, around 25 minutes walk to the ground.
Saturday's ritual was fish and chips from Bennet Road, followed by Lardy Cake from Allen's the bakers just up our street.
All washed down with some Corona limeade, as the Corona delivery man used to drop off a few bottles on a Friday and collect the empties.
Just as well we walked, as I would have been a "Billy Bunter" kid with all those pre match calories.

Always seemed to arrive at the ground at 2-30. Through the turnstile at the South End, and then to our place, about half way between the corner flag and the left hand goalpost as you face the pitch.
Luton were the first visitors. We were beaten 1-0 without a whimper.
Dad gave me a shilling at half time to get two bottles of Fanta from the wonderful catering emporium below the stands. 6d a bottle, and 1d back if you returned the bottle.
This little enterprise of a supporter soon sussed that our fans couldn't really be bothered to return their bottles, and as there was little to cheer on the pitch, I had gone round collecting the empties and returning them to the emporium, making a tidy sum. Well, more than my 6d a week pocket money.

Anyone of that era will remember the catering. Coke, Lemon Fanta, Orange Fanta, Tea or Coffee, Beef Tea (Bovril), and a tomato soup.
The hot drinks were dispensed by a battered old water jackson, and I watched as people tried to get their inferno hot beverages to the top of the steps to the stand without getting 3rd degree burns.
There was also a funny smell down near the catering area. It was rather close to the urinals, so much so that modern day health and safety would have called for it's immediate destruction.

Dean Court was also the only place my Day used the "F" word. Meant nothing to me at the time, but by mid season, I was using it at school, so much so that Headmaster Mr Gage at ST Andrews, Nortoft Road rang my Mum and grassed me up.
I got a clip round the ear that night when I got home. "Where on earth did you learn that language Alan?" she enquired.
"Dad used it when Chris Foote didn't do a very good pass to Jimmy White" was my reply.
I think Dad got a clip round the ear when he came back from work.

And so the season went on. Same home routine, same making a few pennies on the empties, and the football wasn't that great.

As I said, we always stood in the same place, but when it rained, everyone rushed back to the half covered area at the back of the South End.
This happened at home to Bristol Rovers in October.
I had gone to get the two bottles of "pop", and whilst queueing, the heavens opened, and on my return I couldn't find Dad. I searched for what was an eternity, (probably 5 minutes) then sensibly went to the copper stood on the corner by the New Stand and cried I couldn't find my Dad.
2 minutes later, over the rusty tannoy, "Would the Father of Alan Gard please come to the New Stand corner flag and collect your lost son."
All ended well....
Unfortunately, my classmate Charles McGilevray had heard the announcement and when I got to school on the Monday he called me a "Girly Spanner" who cried because he was lost.

The season rolled on, at it was obvious we were going to be in a relegation battle.
Winter games were not as profitable bottle collecting, as people preferred scolding their hands rather than drinking fizzy pop.

Out of all the gloom, a new signing was the one shining light.
Ted McDougall.
From late October till mid March, we only scored 25 goals, and Ted got 17 of them.

When The Cherries were away, we sometimes went to a reserve game in the Combination League.
Don't knock it. In those days there were no Academy's, Under 21's etc. If a player got injured, their comeback game would always be in the reserves.
We competed with teams like West Ham, Southampton, Spurs & Arsenal.
I was barely 9 and had seen Geoff Hurst, Ian Storey-Moore, Jimmy Greaves, Ron Davies, & Terry Paine grace the hallowed turf.
One such reserve game was against Brighton in January.
Let's go back a long time ago before our modern day media, and even pre Radio Solent.
Some took a radio to reserve games to keep an ear out for how the firsts were doing, but apart from the half time score, you heard nothing about lowly league 3 Bournemouth.
The tannoy would give out the half time score.
On this occasion, Bradford City 6 Bournemouth 0.
Someone was playing a prank surely.
But it was true. We walked home after the game and Mum said Bournemouth had been on Grandstand, "and when they typed the score in it was written as Bradford City 8 (EIGHT) Bournemouth 1."
That was depressing, and the reserves got beat that day as well.

I went to around a dozen home games that season, and after 46 games we were one place above the drop zone, but Gillingham below us had a game in hand to play at Orient on the Monday night. Orient were already champions, so it was a foregone conclusion we would be safe.
But the Orient players had been on the lash all weekend after securing promotion, and played like a parks team.
Gillingham won 1 or 2-0.
I was of course in bed. Dad woke me up around 10pm with the sad news.
I cried for the 2nd time that season.
 
Blimey @AlGard, we shared a school.....I used to live at the end of Richmond Wood Road and remember the walk along Bennett Road to St Andrews, would have been 1970-71

Great posts, keep 'em coming
 
wingsnwheels said:
I remember seeing Keith East walking into training in the Richmond Park Ave area. He was carrying his boots. No posh car in those days, Austin A35 or Morris 1000 probably at best. Keep going Al!
Click to expand...

He was in a club house in charminster road called Trelawny. It was between Richmond Wood Road and St Albans Ave.
 
AlGard said:
There is quite a lot written down. More than I thought, so will put a couple a day up.
‌Part 2.
1969/70
- Relegation.

Dad had decided it would be my first full season. 8 years old, and very excited.
I had an extensive football knowledge for my age. I could pretty much name all the FA Cup winners from 1872 onwards, and if Mastermind had been around, it would have been my specialist subject. Tho' being so young, I would have lost it on the general knowledge round, with more passes than our erratic team continued to spread around all season.

We lived in Malmesbury Park Road, around 25 minutes walk to the ground.
Saturday's ritual was fish and chips from Bennet Road, followed by Lardy Cake from Allen's the bakers just up our street.
All washed down with some Corona limeade, as the Corona delivery man used to drop off a few bottles on a Friday and collect the empties.
Just as well we walked, as I would have been a "Billy Bunter" kid with all those pre match calories.

Always seemed to arrive at the ground at 2-30. Through the turnstile at the South End, and then to our place, about half way between the corner flag and the left hand goalpost as you face the pitch.
Luton were the first visitors. We were beaten 1-0 without a whimper.
Dad gave me a shilling at half time to get two bottles of Fanta from the wonderful catering emporium below the stands. 6d a bottle, and 1d back if you returned the bottle.
This little enterprise of a supporter soon sussed that our fans couldn't really be bothered to return their bottles, and as there was little to cheer on the pitch, I had gone round collecting the empties and returning them to the emporium, making a tidy sum. Well, more than my 6d a week pocket money.

Anyone of that era will remember the catering. Coke, Lemon Fanta, Orange Fanta, Tea or Coffee, Beef Tea (Bovril), and a tomato soup.
The hot drinks were dispensed by a battered old water jackson, and I watched as people tried to get their inferno hot beverages to the top of the steps to the stand without getting 3rd degree burns.
There was also a funny smell down near the catering area. It was rather close to the urinals, so much so that modern day health and safety would have called for it's immediate destruction.

Dean Court was also the only place my Day used the "F" word. Meant nothing to me at the time, but by mid season, I was using it at school, so much so that Headmaster Mr Gage at ST Andrews, Nortoft Road rang my Mum and grassed me up.
I got a clip round the ear that night when I got home. "Where on earth did you learn that language Alan?" she enquired.
"Dad used it when Chris Foote didn't do a very good pass to Jimmy White" was my reply.
I think Dad got a clip round the ear when he came back from work.

And so the season went on. Same home routine, same making a few pennies on the empties, and the football wasn't that great.

As I said, we always stood in the same place, but when it rained, everyone rushed back to the half covered area at the back of the South End.
This happened at home to Bristol Rovers in October.
I had gone to get the two bottles of "pop", and whilst queueing, the heavens opened, and on my return I couldn't find Dad. I searched for what was an eternity, (probably 5 minutes) then sensibly went to the copper stood on the corner by the New Stand and cried I couldn't find my Dad.
2 minutes later, over the rusty tannoy, "Would the Father of Alan Gard please come to the New Stand corner flag and collect your lost son."
All ended well....
Unfortunately, my classmate Charles McGilevray had heard the announcement and when I got to school on the Monday he called me a "Girly Spanner" who cried because he was lost.

The season rolled on, at it was obvious we were going to be in a relegation battle.
Winter games were not as profitable bottle collecting, as people preferred scolding their hands rather than drinking fizzy pop.

Out of all the gloom, a new signing was the one shining light.
Ted McDougall.
From late October till mid March, we only scored 25 goals, and Ted got 17 of them.

When The Cherries were away, we sometimes went to a reserve game in the Combination League.
Don't knock it. In those days there were no Academy's, Under 21's etc. If a player got injured, their comeback game would always be in the reserves.
We competed with teams like West Ham, Southampton, Spurs & Arsenal.
I was barely 9 and had seen Geoff Hurst, Ian Storey-Moore, Jimmy Greaves, Ron Davies, & Terry Paine grace the hallowed turf.
One such reserve game was against Brighton in January.
Let's go back a long time ago before our modern day media, and even pre Radio Solent.
Some took a radio to reserve games to keep an ear out for how the firsts were doing, but apart from the half time score, you heard nothing about lowly league 3 Bournemouth.
The tannoy would give out the half time score.
On this occasion, Bradford City 6 Bournemouth 0.
Someone was playing a prank surely.
But it was true. We walked home after the game and Mum said Bournemouth had been on Grandstand, "and when they typed the score in it was written as Bradford City 8 (EIGHT) Bournemouth 1."
That was depressing, and the reserves got beat that day as well.

I went to around a dozen home games that season, and after 46 games we were one place above the drop zone, but Gillingham below us had a game in hand to play at Orient on the Monday night. Orient were already champions, so it was a foregone conclusion we would be safe.
But the Orient players had been on the lash all weekend after securing promotion, and played like a parks team.
Gillingham won 1 or 2-0.
I was of course in bed. Dad woke me up around 10pm with the sad news.
I cried for the 2nd time that season.
Click to expand...
Cracking read Al. As a regular visitor to your French blog I knew you were good with words. Also being born on 29/3, albeit some years before you, I too have so many memories and this has inspired me to put something down myself.
Just for personal consumption of course.
 
Chapter 3.
70/71: Division 4. Phoenix from the flames.

St Andrew's was a great school. I had made the football team, and from a small squad, we had a half decent side.
Mr Noble took "Games", and we got the Yellow bus every Wednesday from Nortoft Road down to Castle Lane playing fields for 2 hours of football.
The 2 senior classes were divided up in to two evenly balanced sides, and we ran and chased after the Wembley Trophy ball all afternoon.

I think I was only one of two kids in the class who actually had been to games at Dean Court.
Myself and Charles McGilavray were hardcore Bournemouth fans, but the rest of the boys in the class were just glory hunters.
Alan Bright - Man Utd
Russell Stirling - His Dad had a newsagent in Charminster Road, and was an ex Bournemouth centre half in the 50's (Jim Stirling), he supported Liverpool.
Mark Levell - Chelsea.
David Stokes - Er, Stoke, for obvious reasons. Luckily the family name wasn't Monchengladbach or he would have been mocked even more for losing the war.

The summer of 1970 had been a let down.
England, World football champions had lost to Germany in the heat of Mexico.
The game was on relay, and we had gone down to Fortes in the town for lashing of ginger beer and knickerbocker glories, before coming home around 6pm to watch the action.
BBC showed the game, with the commentary from David Coleman coming down the phone.

Division 4. Dad had never seen a game that low down the pyramid. 47 years of "The town don't want Bournemouth to go up."
Well, the town must have been ecstatic, we had gone down and were playing in a different professional league for the first time ever.

Freddie Cox, a Bournemouth legend had been sacked. That cup run of 14 years previous had been consigned to the dustbin.
Freddie also had a newsagents on Charminster Road, opposite the junction of Stewart Road.
Our family knew him well as Dad had done plumbing jobs at his home in Richmond Park Avenue.

John Bond was in. With assistant Ken Brown. Couple of ex West Ham boys. They knew how to play the game.
West Ham had won us the World Cup 4 years earlier, or so Alf Garnett said.

We really didn't know what to expect. From "Cox out" to "Bond in."
Bond had links with Torquay, and had bought in winger Tony Scott, Keith Miller from the World cup winners, amongst others.

I had gone down to Dean Court in mid July on the day before a friendly to watch the training that was being conducted right in between the mini railway tracks that ran around Kings Park. (Might have been Morton that game)
My sparkling new autograph book in hand, that I had got for my 9th birthday.
It only had two signatures in from the previous season, Ray Bumstead and David Stocks.
At some point in the training session there was a break, and Mr Bond came over and said "hello" to the kids watching.
"Do you come and watch us?" he enquired, to which we all nodded. He then took our autograph books and a pen, and all the players signed them.
I had the entire squad on 4 pages of my little book. We were all made up, and this little gesture ensured we were hooked up for the season.

Dad had a Vauxhall viva now, and there was no sitting in the back of the van with kitchen and bathroom parts anymore.
He and Jim sat in the front, and I had the whole back to myself. Had my weekly edition of "Shoot, and was placing the league ladders in the order that the teams would finish.
Bournemouth top of course. Man Utd and Liverpool to be relegated from league 1, and I admit it, Leeds to win the title.

We went up to Aldershot full of hope. We were too good for this division. But a 2-0 reverse made us think otherwise.
It was the first time I had noticed trouble at a game. All sorts of running battles were going on in the town, and inside the ground, which you could walk around, fans fought most the afternoon.
Jim I saw throw a couple of tasty left hooks at an Aldershot fan after the game. His crime was queueing at the bus stop with a "Shots" scarf on. Dads precious Viva had some red spray paint on it, with a similar word that I had been clipped round the ear for the previous season.

It was all rather depressing..... But then, it all clicked.
7 wins on the bounce. I was at all hose home games. Ted hit all 4 in a one man demolition at home to Colchester. No more collecting bottles. This was genuine excitement.

"MacDougall, la la la, MacDougall, la la la."
"Zigger zagger, zigger zagger. MacDougall, la la la."

Before Xmas we were top 2. No more mocking at school. I was going to games to see my team, my classmates were watching their heroes on Match of the Day...if they were allowed to stay up that late.

There was a cup tie at Oxford City. Dad went, and I had to go to a cousins birthday party in Christchurch. Gutted.
However, a few days later he took me to the replay at Dean Court.
My first night match that I remember, and my first time in the New Stand.
It might have been 1-0 at half time (excuse the memory), but 2nd half, Ted went ballistic, scored 6 in the game and we won 8-1.
He had equaled George Best's record for the individual goals in a cup tie. Little know all me told all around me that he had got a share of that record. "He's a bright spark ain't he" said one fan. Dad replied "He is, and he knows it all." Jim said "Give it 10 years, this lad will be playing for us,"
How wrong was Jim?

Jeez, how much more of this shi" have I got?
 
AlGard said:
Chapter 3.
70/71: Division 4. Phoenix from the flames.

St Andrew's was a great school. I had made the football team, and from a small squad, we had a half decent side.
Mr Noble took "Games", and we got the Yellow bus every Wednesday from Nortoft Road down to Castle Lane playing fields for 2 hours of football.
The 2 senior classes were divided up in to two evenly balanced sides, and we ran and chased after the Wembley Trophy ball all afternoon.

I think I was only one of two kids in the class who actually had been to games at Dean Court.
Myself and Charles McGilavray were hardcore Bournemouth fans, but the rest of the boys in the class were just glory hunters.
Alan Bright - Man Utd
Russell Stirling - His Dad had a newsagent in Charminster Road, and was an ex Bournemouth centre half in the 50's (Jim Stirling), he supported Liverpool.
Mark Levell - Chelsea.
David Stokes - Er, Stoke, for obvious reasons. Luckily the family name wasn't Monchengladbach or he would have been mocked even more for losing the war.

The summer of 1970 had been a let down.
England, World football champions had lost to Germany in the heat of Mexico.
The game was on relay, and we had gone down to Fortes in the town for lashing of ginger beer and knickerbocker glories, before coming home around 6pm to watch the action.
BBC showed the game, with the commentary from David Coleman coming down the phone.

Division 4. Dad had never seen a game that low down the pyramid. 47 years of "The town don't want Bournemouth to go up."
Well, the town must have been ecstatic, we had gone down and were playing in a different professional league for the first time ever.

Freddie Cox, a Bournemouth legend had been sacked. That cup run of 14 years previous had been consigned to the dustbin.
Freddie also had a newsagents on Charminster Road, opposite the junction of Stewart Road.
Our family knew him well as Dad had done plumbing jobs at his home in Richmond Park Avenue.

John Bond was in. With assistant Ken Brown. Couple of ex West Ham boys. They knew how to play the game.
West Ham had won us the World Cup 4 years earlier, or so Alf Garnett said.

We really didn't know what to expect. From "Cox out" to "Bond in."
Bond had links with Torquay, and had bought in winger Tony Scott, Keith Miller from the World cup winners, amongst others.

I had gone down to Dean Court in mid July on the day before a friendly to watch the training that was being conducted right in between the mini railway tracks that ran around Kings Park. (Might have been Morton that game)
My sparkling new autograph book in hand, that I had got for my 9th birthday.
It only had two signatures in from the previous season, Ray Bumstead and David Stocks.
At some point in the training session there was a break, and Mr Bond came over and said "hello" to the kids watching.
"Do you come and watch us?" he enquired, to which we all nodded. He then took our autograph books and a pen, and all the players signed them.
I had the entire squad on 4 pages of my little book. We were all made up, and this little gesture ensured we were hooked up for the season.

Dad had a Vauxhall viva now, and there was no sitting in the back of the van with kitchen and bathroom parts anymore.
He and Jim sat in the front, and I had the whole back to myself. Had my weekly edition of "Shoot, and was placing the league ladders in the order that the teams would finish.
Bournemouth top of course. Man Utd and Liverpool to be relegated from league 1, and I admit it, Leeds to win the title.

We went up to Aldershot full of hope. We were too good for this division. But a 2-0 reverse made us think otherwise.
It was the first time I had noticed trouble at a game. All sorts of running battles were going on in the town, and inside the ground, which you could walk around, fans fought most the afternoon.
Jim I saw throw a couple of tasty left hooks at an Aldershot fan after the game. His crime was queueing at the bus stop with a "Shots" scarf on. Dads precious Viva had some red spray paint on it, with a similar word that I had been clipped round the ear for the previous season.

It was all rather depressing..... But then, it all clicked.
7 wins on the bounce. I was at all hose home games. Ted hit all 4 in a one man demolition at home to Colchester. No more collecting bottles. This was genuine excitement.

"MacDougall, la la la, MacDougall, la la la."
"Zigger zagger, zigger zagger. MacDougall, la la la."

Before Xmas we were top 2. No more mocking at school. I was going to games to see my team, my classmates were watching their heroes on Match of the Day...if they were allowed to stay up that late.

There was a cup tie at Oxford City. Dad went, and I had to go to a cousins birthday party in Christchurch. Gutted.
However, a few days later he took me to the replay at Dean Court.
My first night match that I remember, and my first time in the New Stand.
It might have been 1-0 at half time (excuse the memory), but 2nd half, Ted went ballistic, scored 6 in the game and we won 8-1.
He had equaled George Best's record for the individual goals in a cup tie. Little know all me told all around me that he had got a share of that record. "He's a bright spark ain't he" said one fan. Dad replied "He is, and he knows it all." Jim said "Give it 10 years, this lad will be playing for us,"
How wrong was Jim?

Jeez, how much more of this shi" have I got?
Click to expand...
Loving it! 1970 World Cup was the first I can remember. This season (last game) was my first.
 
Ivyhouse said:
Cracking read Al. As a regular visitor to your French blog I knew you were good with words. Also being born on 29/3, albeit some years before you, I too have so many memories and this has inspired me to put something down myself.
Just for personal consumption of course.
Click to expand...
I'm also March 29th but 5 years after you Al
 
Good memories mate. Don't know you but I'm of a similar vintage (OK slightly older). The "handle" probably gives it away as I used to catch the No. 21 trolleybus from Christchurch to the top of Parkwood Road on match days. Had an autograph book as well but it got nicked from my duffle bag one day while having a kick around in Kings Park. My memory (which admittedly isn't what it was) is telling me that Keith East was the one with the flash car (didn't he have a beauty queen fiancee as well?)
Keep 'em coming, shared memories are always the best and I'm sure there are lots more of us out here who share them with you.
 
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