Inane Ramblings of a Fitbawbag # 21 – Regrets, I’ve Had a Few, But Then Again, Here’s One To Mention

Originally written for Nutmeg Issue 27

I started knocking a ball about before I could process memories properly. I can’t remember a time without kick abouts in my early years. However, in terms of team games, I still remember my first match vividly. It was for Ellon Youth versus Eddies at Auchterellon Park in Aberdeenshire when I was in Primary 3 which made me a couple of years younger than most of the team. The year was 1991, I can still picture the yellow and green Spal shirts sponsored by the long defunct Ellon Freezer Foods. These complete with green shiny “puffer” shorts. The night didn’t start well with the over washed and almost grey in colour instead of yellow socks were as tight as a wizard’s sleeve leaving my shin guards to pop out constantly. This without even kicking a ball. My dad intervened before kick-off to tuck the socks into the back of the pad to attempt to trap it, but it was in vain. It only lasted so long and as I carried out my role in the right back berth, I was forever shoving my shin guards back in. But my career was up and running with a 4-0 win. 20 years passed before I kicked my final ball in the 2010/11 season. This was at New Advocates Park, the home of East End Juniors in the shadow of Pittodrie. This where my Ellon Thistle team were hosted by MS United in the Aberdeenshire Amateur Leagues.

I never made it to any serious level, but I still loved every minute of it. I played Juniors for Buchanhaven Hearts and Cruden Bay. That was a far as I went as a club player. I also represented Aberdeenshire Schools throughout my entire Academy years this despite being banned from playing for the school after one match due to let’s say, an altercation which was not how the school wanted to be represented. This led to a dispensation to let me into the districts as I wasn’t strictly an Academy player. It was here Aberdeen FC legend Neil Simpson was manager and we played our home games at Balmoor, the home stadium of Peterhead. It felt professional with pre-match meals and training that was way beyond anything I had been a part of prior. It was also strange playing alongside players who I would regularly do battle with on a Saturday, namely players from Inverurie side Colony Park who like my Ellon team were classed as teuchters by the plethora of Aberdeen sides in the league this leading to a kind of country derby between us. But it was a great experience and again still fresh in the memory. My twenty years saw me play primary school, Academy (just one game), district select, juveniles, Juniors then finishing off in amateurs.  

Unfortunately, in summer 2008, I found myself in Woodend Hospital in Aberdeen surrounded by old men with ailments which are not associated with a 23-year-old. The reason I was in was due to many heavy blows to my right ankle due to a robust style of play throughout the years. This leading me to require what is known as an “Evans Procedure”. In short, this is an operation that will prevent arthritis setting in due to some bone-on-bone action that should not have been happening. This was caused by stretched ankle ligaments that never retracted to their original shape. The fact my ankle was found to have two separate breaks in it too that I never even knew had occurred also didn’t aid matters. These days in hospital were lonely, if there is a place where your thoughts can get on top of you it is in a bed in a ward. However, one thing that never crossed my mind at the time was that my football playing days could be over. Kindly released from hospital a day early with a glut of Vicodin, I crutched out of the hospital so I could watch the Euro 2008 final at my folks’ house as opposed to the TV room in the ward. I left with one thought in my head. “When the hell can I kick a ball about again?”. Given I was to be in cast for 14 weeks this was to be a long slog and there was no doubting it. But one thing that never crossed my mind was, this was the beginning of the end.

After over a season on the side line and some excruciating physio, I did return to the game during the 2009/10 season in a bit part substitute type role mainly as a sub. I followed up by completing preseason training ahead of the 2010/11 season and started the campaign in the team. Everything was back on track, then disaster just after the turn of the year. I was playing 5-a-sides on a Thursday night and my ankle gave out. Not in a tackle or anything rough I was walking off as the game was roll on/roll off subs. I couldn’t believe that something so innocuous could do what it did. After driving home (ill advised by my own brain) I headed to hospital where I was informed, I had dislocated it. The same ankle I had been operated on. This put me off work for a number of weeks which hit me financially. This leaving me to decide the game was a bogey and I was done with it.

Despite the choice to give up being hard, especially as I was still relatively young, I never missed playing once after I stopped. I was straight back to a Pittodrie season ticket and that was that. Saturday afternoons were in the capacity of a punter from then on, this meaning I still had the social aspect to football. This being the only thing that I did miss, the pints with my dad after a game which sometimes went on longer than they should have. But instead of my old man it was now my brother in local hostelries in the vicinity of Aberdeen FC I spent my hard-earned money in.

Eleven years later, October 2022 threw up a stupendous day where BBC Scotland show A View from The Terrace decided to film one of their excellent VTs at my old side Ellon Thistle to celebrate the 55 years of service to the club since its foundation from “Mr Ellon Thistle” Ian Birnie. As I had a part in getting this done, my son Jake and I were in attendance for the big day. Many old tales were told, photos from seasons gone by were shown, old teammates were in attendance, and I felt something I had not felt in eleven years. I was pining for a game of football. It started with the discussions of past seasons with Ian and my dad Allan (the Thistle secretary). It opened a part of my brain and brought me back to a very happy place. I hadn’t thought much about my playing days since hanging up my boots and had not brought it up a lot with my boy Jake. But as we waited for the pre-game necessities of warms ups etc to finish I was regaling old tales to him about playing for the club. But in my head, I was also thinking all the way back to day one in Auchterellon and every detail that came after. I felt a sense of loss. I was wanting to polish my Specialis on the back doorstep. I was missing the feeling of a week at work being the hinderance between Saturday and Saturday. I longed to inhale the pungent aroma of deep heat that used to envelop the changing rooms, I yearned the skirmishes and battles on the pitch which there were many over the years. I lacked the camaraderie in my life. I was desperate to throw myself into booming challenge or get myself involved in the confrontations and general being an arsehole that I was accustomed to year after year. I wished for the craic in the changing room pre-game, and I pined for playing at the places like my home ground for many a year, The Meadows in Ellon where I was standing but also missed playing at the crap surfaced, pigsty, municipal multi pitch affairs such as Hazelhead and Aulton in equal measure. Specific memories also came flooding back. Winning my first trophy when my primary Meiklemill defeated Kinnellar 1 v 0 at the now flattened Polo Park in Stoneywood. This seeing us go up 1 v 0 in the first minute the hold on for dear life for the rest of the match. There was getting sent off in my final juvenile Scottish Cup game across the road from Ibrox for deliberate handball on the line when I palmed one round the post after 5 minutes. (Save of the season though). I will never forget walking off with with my tail between my legs with my dad staring a hole right through me. Also, Scottish Cup related, heading to Linlithgow Rose with Buchanhaven Hearts was an eye opener to the difference between the Junior game down there and the Junior game up here. Here we incurred dogs of abuse all game for wearing the sacred maroon in Linlithgow as only they wore it at Prestonfield. A 5 v 1 pumping duly followed. I was not a prolific scorer at any point but scored some good goals. When I was at my boys club Ellon Meadows we used to get high profile friendlies against the youth teams of pro clubs. This giving me the chance to score a 25-yard free kick against Dundee United and grab a double of identical 40 yarders in a 4 v 1 win v Caley Thistle up in Inverness at u14s. Definite feathers in my caps. Unfortunately, they were obviously not looking for goal scoring centre halves on those occasions. There was also my one and only time in an ambulance when I exited Grandholm, home of Albion Boys Club, after being sparked out cold by my own keeper after beating him to a high ball feeling the full wrath of his punch to my temple.  One my greatest highlights came off the back of watching Batistuta spinning round shooshing the Nou Camp in a European tie for Fiorentina midweek, then promising my cousin who I was watching with that I would score on the Saturday and mimic the celebration. A big ask given I was a centre half but incredibly on the following Saturday I headed a last-minute winner in a Scottish Cup tie v Sheddocklsley in 96/97 at the eponymous centre in Aberdeen. Obviously, that led to me proceeding to shoosh the home side touchline which comprised of the coaches, around twenty parents and a couple of dogs before being flattened under a pile of bodies by my teammates as my cousin Barry laughed on the opposite side line. I’ll never forget the rush that moment gave me. It was my favourite goal I scored by a long way. There were hundreds more stories coming back to me, and it really did make me feel gratified thinking back. Now that I have unleashed a few old tales to Jake he is now fascinated and has been inquiring on an almost daily basis since that day in Ellon. This being a bonus, meaning I am still getting to think back continuously. It has been wonderful looking back on it all and talking about it. But equally it has been a bit shite as it made me realise I may have just chucked the game too early and has planted large seeds of regret in my head.

Readers at home may not care too much about some Aberdeenshire clogger and his days blootering balls across the Northeast and sometimes further afield. But it’s not just about that. It’s about those days being some of the greatest days of your life. Lifetime friendships being forged. Unforgettable memories being created no matter if you play for Aberdeen, Rothie Rovers or AC Mill Inn. These times should be held on to as long as possible and it took me until I am in the too old to play bracket to comprehend how much I miss it and how much I bloody enjoyed and lived for it. After that day at Ellon Thistle, I seriously felt that I took it all for granted. Now I wish I stuck at it and kept in touch with the great guys that crossed paths over the years. Neither of which I did. In the proceeding days I was dipping into the deepest parts of my brain searching for all the memories of playing and starting up conversations on social media with ex-teammates.  This also led me to strike when the iron was hot and organise a night out with a selection of them. All of whom were ex Ellon Thistle teammates committee. This was based around Dyce v Hermes in the North Region JFA. A great afternoon and beyond reminiscing of good times from on the pitch to drunken nights which followed the games. Although it turned into a boozy night for me it was still great to catch up with some of the greatest people, I played or was involved in football with, can call friends and just get back to being pals again. This coming just the eleven years after my Umbros initially started collecting dust. I really miss playing the game that has brought me some of the most terrific memories and mates in my life and weeks after the day with Ellon Thistle and the cameras I am still craving to win a header, shout at a ref, dive into a challenge, stand on a strikers toes or just have that laugh in the changing room or the juicer post game. Why did it take this long to feel this way? The brain really is a funny thing. It made me quit, then it made me supress it all for too long until it was too late. Chucking playing is a mistake I will forever regret.