We need to talk about Kevin

When I was young, a convoluted set of events led my uncle from the far north-west of England to the far south-east. My uncle was a tough guy and apparently an excellent footballer. In fact he was so good, that Manchester City invited him to go for a trial with them. Unfortunately, he was a big Manchester United fan, so decided against it (I suspect that, with hindsight, he regrets that decision).

I should say that my dad and I never really got on with my uncle. I remember it coming to a head many years later just as my parents announced proudly to him that I would be going to university. He started off on a self-righteous "Students, waste of taxpayer's money..." etc. rants. My dad's reply stopped him dead in his tracks: "We can't all be bus drivers you know". If you know my dad (and you will if you read another of my posts), you will know that this was completely out-of-character, and, as far as I am concerned, the put down of the year - I don't think they have spoken to each other since (I am assuming that you realise from this that my uncle was a bus driver).

Anyway, a couple of times before this incident, we went down to the deepest south-east to stay with him and his family for our holidays: "Drive towards Skipton, turn right at Scotch Corner and keep going south" were all the directions you needed. So off we went in my dad's mini-van, kitted out with cushions in the back for me and my sister to sit on. Seat belts, pah, who needs them? On arriving in the south, the differences for a young boy from deepest Cumbria were striking:

1. It was flat
2. The people spoke with a strange accent
3. The bricks were a different colour
4. There was sunshine!
   
5. The roads were not paved with gold; rather, they were large slabs of concrete joined by tarmac that melted in the said sun.

Like most young kids, I was a big football fan. It was during one of these holidays that I went to see the "local" team play; at the time they were one of the best teams in Europe. I saw them beat Anderlecht in a pre-season friendly and then Newcastle 3-0 on the first day of the season (I still have the pre-match programme and can remember where I stood (under the 'M' on the large "Portman Road" that was displayed on the stand roof).

The team had a player called Kevin. He was a young player breaking into the England team and was described as having the potential to become one of the best ever English players since, erm, the last one who would become the next best English player.

The most amazing thing though (for me), was that Kevin was my uncle's friend. Imagine saying that your uncle's best mate is David Beckham or Tiger Woods and you are not quite there, but you get the idea. "Why don't you come with me round to his house?" my uncle asked me one day. I was completely flabbergasted - my uncle taking me to one of the country's best footballer's house! Just like that. I grabbed my autograph book and off we went.

I imagined driving up a long drive to a huge house, indoor swimming pool etc - you get the picture...but your picture, like mine, would be wrong: this was well before the days of big, big money in sport. In fact, we didn't drive there, he lived just round the corner in a semi-detached house, not dissimilar to the one in the picture. Kevin himself answered the door and invited us in for a cup of tea after my uncle explained that I wanted his autograph (I didn't really, but it would have been churlish to say so). I was too overwhelmed to speak: I just held out my autograph book (i.e. and old exercise book) for him to sign. On the walls were pennants and his England caps - yes, they really are caps. I put one on, and had my picture taken with him (sadly, it's been lost).

Now, as far as I know, it may have been a top-of-the-range semi-detached house. However, when you see pictures of the houses of the likes of David Beckham, it doesn't really match up.

The big money came into football in the early 90's: this was the late 70's. Kevin's star shone brightly for a brief period, but too soon as far as sports super-stardom is concerned. He finally retired after injuries at 27. That's life, but I bet there are a lot of 70's and 80's footballers who rue just missing out on the Sky Sports windfall!

Unfortunately, the story doesn't seem to have ended too well (no gig as a TV football pundit unlike many others from his era for example). From what I can find out from Google, things haven't changed too much, but articles from the web can't give the full picture (this one being a perfect example), so let's hope he's happy with his lot.

Unfortunately, my dad's put-down means that I don't get to speak to my uncle too much these days, so, even if they are still friends, I'll never get the real details...