My Sporting Life

		Football Shortly after England's historic World Cup win in 1966 I began a life long affair with the beautiful game. The season after was a disastrous one for Blackpool FC, my local team, they were relegated from the old First Division for the first time since pre War days. The Golden Age of Stanley Matthews et al in the forties and fifties was a fast fading memory, but all was not completely lost. The manager's job, which in later years came to resemble a set of revolving doors, had been filled by another of the heroes of that post War era, Stan Mortensen. After a slow start in August and September things began to pick up and by late November we (note it is "we" by now) were leading the Second Division.

		My Father decided the time was right to give his 10 year old son a taste of the big match atmosphere, our opponents for my first visit to Bloomfield Road (16th December 1967) were none other than the old enemy Preston North End. When the final whistle blew on a convincing 4-1 victory for the Pool it marked the rites of passage and confirmed me as a third generation follower of the Tangerines. To the right you see me in my first replica kit back in 1970, and to the left you see a man to whom my children have most cruelly compared me. Love the shirt Homer, however I've still got most of my hair.

There have been moments of glory over the years, if I'm honest though I guess there have been more downs than ups. It's been hard at times, but I'm still here, and I always will be.

Check out the stuff I wrote in the early days of View from the Tower, the BFC Fanzine in the 90s. When VFTT faded away it was succeeded by Another View from the Tower, have a look at their excellent Website. Lots of humour and irreverence which is how it should be.

I also closely follow the fortunes of my local team Rushden & Diamonds, who have finally attained League status after a few near misses. Check out their Website.

Cricket
Initially Old Trafford to me was the home of some football team whose name escapes me for the moment. All that began to change in the late sixties when the famous Lancashire one day side began to create a few waves. Suddenly a game that had only previously interested me at Test Match level took on a new excitement as the Red Rose bloomed to dominate the short form of the game for several years to come. My first real cricket memory had been Derek Underwood destroying the Aussies on a drying wicket at the Oval in 1968, but Jackie Bond and his men were to supply many more. The great thing was that most of them were Lancashire born and bred as well, with a few honourable exceptions like Clive Lloyd and Farokh Engineer, and even an occasional Yorkshireman like Barry Wood. After a few years the rest of the counties began to get the idea and the trophy cabinet was not always so full, but recent years have seen the dominance return. We might even win the County Championship one of these days, we've gone close a couple of times.

Running
		Every schoolboy hates cross country and I was no exception, yet something subconsciously must have stuck a chord. A few years later I was retaking my A Levels after an academic disaster in the 6th Form, all my mates were at University so I found myself with more spare time than I had been accustomed to. For some inexplicable reason I decided to try my hand at running and see what happened. Things were progressing well, but it was to be a brief flirtation as further education was calling and I left home to continue my studies at Oxford Polytechnic. That was the end of serious exercise for quite a few years. In 1983 at the age of 53 my father retired and took up running, it soon became apparent that this was a serious business. Not being the sort of man to do things by half he soon announced that his target was to run a marathon. Inspired by this I finally got myself a pair of decent shoes, and the rest is history. Running is now an integral part of my life, ideally three times a week, usually 4-6 miles. My ideal race distance is 10k, one day I hope to go under 40 minutes. Thanks for the inspiration Dad. See the Bernard Yarwood page.