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Search forStoke City: The day I fell in love with the Potters
Tuesday, July 29, 2008, 09:25
WHY would I want to leave? Chelsea were a massive club, I had a beautiful home on the outskirts of Wimbledon, two great local pubs, two top greyhound tracks, White City and Wimbledon, four top race courses within half-an-hour's drive, and of course more importantly had my best friends and family all around me.
But once meeting the Stoke City manager in 1974, there was never a doubt where my next house was going to be.
Tony looked ragged that first meeting on a park bench in London. Some time later I learned he had been out all hours in a West End night club. This was after I had told my local pub proprietor to throw me out at 11 o'clock, refusing me the usual one or two o'clock touch!
Tony allowed me to return to when I was once a kid, allowing the love and passion to come flooding back.
He changed the course of my life where I had been a young, upcoming star overnight – by playing my way into the 1970 World Cup squad in eight short months – but had lost my appetite and ultimately became disillusioned with the game.
By losing the love for this game I adored so much, I lost so much more. Because if you are disillusioned by the things you love and come so natural to you, you feel that you have no chance with everything else in your life, especially when one so young.
In movie terms, moving from Chelsea was like jumping out of the screen of Titanic into The Sound Of Music, which you could also interpret as the Working Man's Ballet because that is how Tony saw the game and wanted it played at Stoke City.
Something inside me told me that this man was the one I had been looking for. It was eerie in a way because all of my thoughts were of a Manchester United, Liverpool or Spurs fighting for my signature. Never Stoke City, yet there I was within minutes sold on a club that seemed probably the most unlikeliest candidates of all, which tells you a story alone. It was the man.
My old man was also a purist and always taught me the art of playing the game the right way by pointing out the players to watch, emulate and try to better. Also, there was the fact he thought the lifestyle and day and night life of London was dictating my personality and thwarting my once exciting career.
Mind you, this was made to look rather funny when, after a few short weeks, I was to find out there were more pubs in the Potteries than there were in the Smoke. That might sound like an exaggeration, but that's how it seemed to me.
Around my first home in the beautiful setting of Barlaston there were three locals, the Plume of Feathers, the Duke of York and the Swynnerton Arms.
I truly believe in the short space of time since my arrival – never for once forgetting how much work had been done years prior – once reaching the summit he would have eclipsed his great friend Brian Clough. That is a big statement, but Tony was a big manager who feared nothing and saw no boundaries for his rapidly moving team.
But reaching the summit wasn't to happen because the wind blew the roof off the Butler Street Stand in 1976 and players such as myself had to be sold.
But while I was there, I gave him my heart on and off the playing fields of Europe and was, as many arguably agree, his greatest signing.
My signing would lead to a real love affair with the man, the club and, of course, never forgetting the wonderful Boothen End who sang that I walked on water. If I did, it was my pleasure and at times I felt I floated above those puddles that only the Potteries' drizzle brought.
My first week in Stoke-on-Trent began as something of a culture shock and I was not happy with his first move, for Tony thought it would be best if I lived with Geoff and Judith Hurst when first arriving. That being for two reasons: the homely lifestyle of which I was accustomed and, of course, to stop me from gallivanting around the pubs and clubs of the Potteries at all hours.
Then in my first training session he put me in a rather delicate situation when, on the first morning, he ordered a full-scale practice match between the first team and reserves. But what was to follow made me a couple of immediate enemies in the dressing room, unless it was my mind playing games on me.
When picking the team who were to play on the Saturday against Liverpool, he handed the bibs out, but handed me a completely different coloured one. He then told the rest of the players to just pass the ball to this coloured shirt as soon as they received it.
This did not go down too well with the more experienced players and a certain player in particular, Mike Pejic who, when getting his first touch, ignored me completely and went dashing down the left wing like a man possessed. I knew straight away that I'd be playing against more than 11 players on my home debut.
I never thanked Tony for such an act. But it was a great compliment and gave me the much-needed confidence boost I had lost at Chelsea, so overall it was the beginning of my love affair with him as regards him giving me complete responsibility to go out and play all over the field.
There were so many people I had to prove wrong, but once pulling George Eastham's old red and white number 10 shirt over my shoulders, I felt them become bigger and broader. Then being welcomed by the Boothen End. I thought, as Arthur Daley would put it, that the 'world was my lobster.'
I can still remember so vividly the aftermath of my debut against Liverpool and with my entire family up in force to back me up, we celebrated amongst the people of the Potteries.
The day-to-day life in the Potteries was delightful for me. The people warm, although chillingly honest – that is what I love about them – and I would say that the place which made it so special was the Conservative Club just off the town centre. It was there I celebrated my brilliant debut in 1974 against Liverpool. But more importantly my family, and they came up in lorry loads, were very much made at home there immediately.
We played excellent football at all times and my understanding with Jimmy Greenhoff – something Tony knew would happen – began to grow to such an extent we almost played together blindfolded.
I grew in stature through Tony. I began to believe in myself again because of him and he gave me the kind of responsibility that brought the very best out of me.
I entered a new world on the football pitch at the Victoria Ground. He made me feel like the entire place belonged to me and that those wonderful supporters were expecting big things from me every time I ran out of that tiny tunnel.
I played for him like I played for my father, with all my heart and soul, and, like my father, have never trusted a man so much in my playing career.
I also had the greatest pleasure to strike up a great friendship with him. We dined together regularly and talked for hours about our uncanny love for most things in life. We, it was obvious after a short period of time, enjoyed the good things in life. We shared the same taste, whether it was the finest food and drink, or the fabulous art of playing the game.
I was becoming a better player because of Tony Waddington. He gave me the responsibility I needed as a player of my kind, an old fashioned inside forward who gets other players playing. That was my game, that is what he bought me for and that was what I was doing to the best of my ability.
Even the players who resented me at first began to nod in the mornings – and one in particular was Micky Pejic!
TOMORROW: Waddo gives Shilts a right caning, but tells the kids to paint the town red.
HAPPY HOMECOMING: Alan Hudson arrives in Stoke to be welcomed by manager Tony Waddington, left, and chairman Albert Henshall.
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