The Memory: Triggered by the campaign to stop the proposed closure of Tunstall swimming pool

ANYONE who remembers the water polo matches between Tunstall and Burslem will tell you that the players had the air of gladiators intent on finishing each other off.

Although no-one was pulled lifeless from the water, there were plenty of hard knocks. Opponents kicked each other or stuck out an elbow to connect with a jaw. Some grew their toenails to use as illegal weapons.

And when I joined the highly-partisan spectators crowded round the pool, I feared that tribal instincts might explode at any minute in that hot and passionate atmosphere.

But coming back to reality, the only example of aggression I recall came when a female fan leaned out over the water and hit an opposing player on the head with her umbrella.

When I was reporting water polo in the 1950s, it was a game which generated fierce local pride and attracted people from all walks of life.

One of Tunstall's best players was an architect, Malcolm Upright, and his teammates included a miner named Charlie Dunn, who regularly fought with other players and got the equivalent of a red card.

Perhaps I should explain that 50 or 60 years ago Victorian swimming baths were only just big enough for water polo. Stoke Baths was a mere 18 yards long.

So there wasn't much room for 14 big men, particularly those the size of Tunstall's goalkeeper Sam Pearson, who at 6ft 7in could easily stand on the bottom at the deep end.

Incidentally, I was told about a Longton player named Joe Burgess who had only one leg. Apparently, he was a star performer in the 1940s and hurled the ball at goal with the force of a footballer's shot.

In my time there were still teams in five of the six towns (Fenton was the loser as ever, probably because it was the only town without a pool) and another club at Newcastle.

At Tunstall, the game was felt to be so important that a banner was thrown across the front of the Sneyd Arms Hotel advertising "Water polo tonight" in big letters.

It was almost on a par with going to a football match. Spectators turned up in droves for Tunstall's games with Burslem, their arch-rivals in the North Midland League.

The club usually borrowed extra chairs from the town hall to place around the pool. They also provided towels for people to keep the water off their legs, but I felt that was a minor matter.

Amid the excitement there was always an outside chance that somebody might accidentally fall into the pool, or perhaps even be pushed in.

It never happened on my watch, but I heard that The Sentinel's swimming correspondent did once end up with a wetting while refereeing a match somewhere.

I suppose you could call it one of the hazards of the ref's job. I wouldn't have wanted to be in his shoes in that bubbling frenzy. He couldn't please all the people all the time.

Perhaps the poor chap got his comeuppance after spotting a player laying into an opponent and using his toenail to unfair advantage.