Between the Sticks. Alan Hodgkinson
another part of him secretly hopes the first team will turn in a bad performance as that will increase his chances of a call-up. No one openly admits to this, of course, but that’s how the reserve team player thinks and, I imagine, such a state of mind is true irrespective of the standard of football you play. On this particular day we learned the first team had drawn 2–2 at home to Everton, which served as no indication whatsoever as to what Reg Freeman might do in terms of the line-up for Sheffield United’s following match. I felt I would have to produce not simply good, but outstanding displays for the reserves to be even considered for the first team. The way things stood I was going to have plenty of opportunity to do that.
Sure enough, I was back in action with the reserves the following Monday when we entertained our old rivals from ‘up the road’, Leeds United. The Leeds team included George Meek, who has the distinction of being the first ever ‘loan’ player, following a spell at Walsall, and a former Sheffield United favourite, Albert Nightingale. Albert wouldn’t be singing that night, though, as we cruised to a 4–0 victory which, in light of our defeat at Newcastle, rather evened things up. What is more, I kept a clean sheet and turned in what I felt was another good performance.
On the Wednesday, the United first team travelled to Manchester City and found themselves on the wrong end of a 5–2 scoreline. Sheffield United had flirted with relegation the previous season; following the defeat at Maine Road, even though only two matches had been played, the press were predicting United were in for ‘another long, hard season’. I imagined what Reg Freeman’s face would be like when he read that – like Louis Armstrong sucking on a lemon whilst a steamroller ran over his foot.
Sheffield United’s next game was at Newcastle United, a trip which would necessitate an overnight stay. When United were due to stay over, the team sheets were pinned up on a Thursday afternoon to allow players time to pack a bag for the journey the following day. The reserves were scheduled to play at home to West Bromwich Albion. When I sauntered along to the notice board to read the team sheet, for a moment I thought I had looked at the wrong one. There, at the head of the team to play West Brom with the number one next to it, was the name ‘Burgin’. My eyes immediately darted to the adjacent team sheet. Written in blue biro was the name ‘Hodgkinson’ and, above it: ‘First Team. Away to Newcastle United’.
I stood staring at my name in disbelief. No one had said anything to me. I had been given no indication whatsoever that I was going to make my Football League debut. It was a complete and utter surprise. I stood as spellbound as a small boy whose father is telling him a wonderful story. My forehead prickled. My hands were clammy and my mouth was so parched and dry David Lean could have shot Lawrence of Arabia in it. I looked at the team sheet again, then glanced across to the other team sheet. There was no mistake. I was going to make my Sheffield United debut.
I was so stupefied I didn’t notice two people arrive behind me. Sensing someone’s presence, I turned to see regular first teamers Jimmy Hagan and Tommy Hoyland.
‘Well done, Alan, son. You deserve your chance,’ said Jimmy.
‘Aye, good luck. You’ll be fine, have every confidence in you,’ Tommy added.
I managed to thank them and said I hoped I wouldn’t let anybody down.
‘You won’t,’ said Jimmy. ‘Besides, we’ll look after you.’
My mind was a whirl. I told Jimmy and Tommy no one had spoken to me about this and asked what the arrangements were for reporting to the ground and travel.
‘It tells you there, underneath the line-up,’ said Jimmy pointing to the team sheet.
‘Oh, didn’t see that,’ I said, feeling not a little foolish.
‘Bloody hell, Alan, I hope your eyesight’s a damn sight better on Saturday,’ Tommy quipped.
I burst out laughing but it was more a nervous laugh than anything to do with Tommy’s wit. The arrangements were simple enough. Players were to pack an overnight bag and report to Bramall Lane on Friday at 11am. We were catching the noon train to Newcastle from Sheffield Midland station. Collar and tie to be worn.
I wasted no time in getting home. When I told Mum she was so happy for me she was close to tears. When Dad came in from his shift at the pit and I told him my news, I may have been mistaken but I thought I saw his chest swell. Dad was in no doubt as to what he was going to do. He told me he would go down to Sheffield station the next day, find out the train times to and from Newcastle and buy a ticket to travel up on the Saturday. Brenda too was delighted for me and said she wanted to accompany Dad to see me play. I was thrilled to bits. I arranged to meet Dad and Brenda at the players’ entrance at St James’s Park so that I could give them a couple of complimentary tickets.
When I reported to Bramall Lane on the Friday morning I was met by a sports reporter from the Sheffield Star who asked for my reaction to my debut. I still have the cutting of that report. The headline reads, ‘Thrilled To Bits’ (see, I told you I was), beneath which is a photograph of a smiling yours truly in my goalkeeper’s jersey. The piece quotes me as saying my selection ‘came as a complete surprise’, which it did. The report then goes on to say my visit to St James’s Park would be my second in successive Saturdays, ‘having kept goal for the club’s Central League side in their 4–0 defeat last week’. Not exactly the sort of thing a debutant wishes to read, albeit I am also quoted as saying, ‘I hope this trip will not have the same result.’ A quote which appears to have come straight from the John Cleese ‘School of the bleedin’ obvious’. The report also mentions the fact I joined United ‘a year ago’ and, somewhat curiously, ends by mentioning my cricket exploits with Thurcroft Main.
The team kit, boots, shin-pads and everything else required for an away game – first aid box, bottles of liniment, trainers’ bucket and sponge, towels, soaps and so on – was carried in a large wicker basket known as ‘the skip’. The skip was about the size of a small dining-room table and of similar depth. It was lugged on and off the train by the trainer and his assistant, or by the travelling reserve player, but when the kit came back soaking wet the weight of the skip doubled so that it became a four-man job to carry it.
As our Newcastle-bound train pulled out of Sheffield station I idly watched the platform glide by with increasing speed. In those days of steam trains, even though it had not rained for some days, the platform was wet, shining Bible-black and dotted with puddles.
At daily training the first team changed in the ‘home’ dressing room, the reserves in the other, so I didn’t know any of the first team players particularly well, certainly not well enough to engage them in conversation unless I was spoken to. About an hour had passed when our train stopped at York for a change of engine. In that hour I had hardly spoken a word to anyone. I had listened, though. The players’ talk was all of football and horse racing, some of it spoken amidst a game of cards. My silence was noticed by Joe Shaw, our centre-half.
‘Come on, Alan, son,’ said Joe, as he sat himself down opposite me. ‘You’re going to make your debut, put a smile on your face. Make your dream come true.’
‘I think I’m a bit anxious,’ I replied, ‘I don’t want to let anyone down.’
‘Let me tell you something, Alan, and this applies to life not just football,’ said Joe, his face adopting a serious look, ‘Whether you think you can, or whether you think you can’t, you’ll be right.’
I mulled that one over.
‘I don’t just think I can, I know I can.’ I eventually replied.
Joe leaned in closer and slapped me once on the knee with his hand.
‘Good lad!’
There are moments in everyone’s life that make you set the course of who you will be. I have learned that sometimes they are small, insignificant moments you do not immediately recognise as being pivotal and transitional. Sometimes they are big moments. I knew my debut at Newcastle was a very big moment in my life. Everyone needs one day, one chance to grasp the opportunity they have longed for. As Joe Shaw told me, a day to put a smile on their face, and make the dream come