EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD ANDY HAWKE WAS A YOUNG LAD WHO WAS GIFTED WITH CONSIDERABLE FOOTBALL TALENT. HE HAD ALWAYS HAD THE GIFT, EVEN AS A YOUNGSTER. HE WAS NOW LIVING HIS DREAM, PLAYING FOR FIRST DIVISION REDSTOKE.
THE RECENT CROWD VIOLENCE AT REDSTOKE'S LATEST HOME MATCH HIGHLIGHTED THAT THE PROBLEMS HAD NOT DISAPPEARED ENTIRELY FROM THE GAME. ANDY HAD NEVER SEEN SUCH SIGHTS, AND IT HAD LEFT ITS MARK. AT TRAINING ON MONDAY, ANDY FELT MOROSE.
Former Bradport winger Sam Bartlett stopped the practice match. Bartlett, who never let his opinions hide in the dark, came over to Andy, and put his arm round his shoulders. Bartlett was a part time trainer used by Redstoke to help the Reserve team.
"Is there something on your mind Andy?" Bartlett shouted to the rest of the reserves. "Carry on with the match lads, I'm going to have a word with young Andy".
Bartlett took Andy into the dressing room and they sat down.
Andy looked at Bartlett and unloaded his woes. He told him how the scenes of violence had affected him. He had seen hooligans on TV, during matches in the 1970s, and on odd occasions since, but not first-hand.
"I understand, Andy, really I do. I was playing during the seventies, and thankfully our club didn't have many problems. I moved to North Vale in the eighties, and they did have yobs. Vale's reputation was well-deserved. Thankfully, most of the yobs grew up and left the game. There will always be idiots who cause trouble. You don't want to know what I think of them. I don't care to repeat it.
But are you going to let this incident affect you? You're in the side for the Reserves' trip to Everpool on Wednesday. I want you up and down that left wing, doing what you do best : Putting in superb crosses for our strikers to score. Don't let me down Lad".
But Andy could not put the matter out of his mind. He realised he was obsessing about it. He resolved to throw himself into his college work and forget it, as best as he could.
Wednesday evening, and the Reserves were sat in the huge dressing room of Premiership giants Everpool. The Merseyside outfit, currently third in their league were also leading the Reserves' league. Andy had made a full recovery from injury, and listened intently to Clive Coupland, Assistant Manager, and manager of the Reserves.
The match started, and for a time, Andy did not receive much of the ball. The odd pass here, the odd touch there, and that was all. His attention began to wander, and he was drawn to a group of Everpool fans nearby. They were laughing, jeering and generally fooling around. They were doing little wrong, but to Andy's mind, they were causing trouble.
A few minutes later, Andy received the ball. He began to move down the left wing, but in a freakish incident, he tripped and fell on his face. The fans jeered even more, and pointed, laughing. Andy got up and tried to put the incident behind him. However, each time he received the ball, nothing would go right for him. Surely the stewards would move in soon, and remove those trouble makers?
Half time came, and Andy received a roasting from his manager. This did little to raise his spirits either. His confidence was in tatters.
Halfway through the second half, the inevitable happened, and Andy trudged off the pitch, being substituted. He put on his track suit, and sat disconsolately on the bench. He spoke to nobody, and nobody spoke to him. Andy's whole life had been built around playing professional football. He realised many ended up on the scrapheap. He believed he was set to join them.
The game fizzled out as a 0-0 draw. A good result against the league leaders, but for Andy Hawke, the journey home was a long one.
