So what does Skelmersdale mean to me ?

So what does Skelmersdale mean to me?

Before I answer the above question I have a footnote from yesterday’s post. I have been advised by regular blog reader and good friend Dougie Ritchie that Doug Coutts who as reported played for Skem in the early 1970s also played for Berwick Rangers in their famous 1-0 victory in the Scottish Cup against the then mighty Glasgow Rangers. Dougie reckons that makes him a hero of Scottish football. Agreed!

When the draw for the FA Cup First Qualifying Round was made and I saw the name Skelmersdale come up as a potential stop on the Road to Wembley from Scotland my memory immediately dredged up two incidents from my formative years. One is football related the other is not.

It immediately occurred to me that I have seen Skelmersdale United once before. On the 15^th March 1969 to be precise. As an 11 year old living in Redcar in Teesside my Dad took me to the semi final of the Amateur Cup between Skelmersdale United and North Shields played at the neutral ground of my then spiritual home Ayresome Park Middlesbrough.

My recollections of the game are pretty sketchy. All I remember is that the match ended in a draw and on the bus back to Redcar I suggested to my Dad that we should go to the replay the following Saturday in Southport. Unsurprisingly my father said no. Some of the detail of the match in Middlesbrough has been filled in for me by the wonderful Kev Panther the programme editor and historian of Skelmersdale United. The match finished 1-1 in front of nearly 8000 fans with over 3000 of these travelling up from West Lancashire. I do also recall that the match was played on a muddy pitch and Kev’s archived match report notes: “The conditions were abnormal. A pitch that was heavy to start with became a morass of clinging mud and Skem’s lightweight men clearly flagged as the game wore on”. Ayresome Park was famous for it’s clinging mud in those days! North Shields won the replay and went on to lift the Amateur Cup at Wembley. Skem’s golden Wembley moment was to follow two years later when they won the Amateur Cup at Wembley beating Dagenham 4-1.

My other memory of Skelmersdale concerns an incident at 3.00 am in the morning in a second floor flat in Skem. When I was in my late teens I had a habit of going on spontaneous hitch hiking tours of the UK often with my pals from Penicuik Norman Kidd and Struan McCall.

Hitch hiking 17 year olds Norman Kidd (left) and blogger set off to Skelmersdale 

Hitch hiking in threes was never a good idea even in the 70s as lifts were pretty hard to come by. Norman, Struan and I set off early one Penicuik morning with the intention of getting to my brother Stephen’s house in Coventry by nightfall. We made it as far as a service station in West Lancashire just off the M6 by about 8.00 pm. The lifts then dried up and at 0230 we were still trying to get to Coventry. A car drew up and the driver said are you going south lads? We got in with Norman in the front seat and me and Struan in the back and then the driver said: “I am not actually going south but I can offer you a place to sleep at my flat in Skelmersdale”. Struan and I looked at each other and shook our heads theatrically but Norman was answering: “Aye, Barry. That’s very gid of ye ken”. For those not familiar with a strong North Edinburgh dialect ‘Barry’ means ‘Great’ and ‘ken’ loosely translated means ‘ye know’.

Fifteen minutes later we were getting out of his car and heading up the stairs to his second floor flat. Once inside he said: “you two (Norman and I) can sleep in the living room and Struan (the best looking of the three of us) can sleep with me in my bed”. Struan politely declined saying that he was fine sleeping in the living room. “OK, Norman (the next best looking of the three of us) you can sleep with me in my bed”. Norman indicated that he too would rather sleep in the living room. Then for the first time he looked at me with that ‘any port in a storm’ look and said “OK Chris you will have to sleep with me”. “No way” I replied. He got a bit agitated and tried a couple more times to persuade one of us to sleep with him and then gave up. Then he left the flat!

It was now 3.00 am and we tried the door and we were locked in. We were panic stricken. 1975 was a less enlightened era and we were imagining all kinds of things regarding his motivation and also what might happen next. However, the bottom line was that we were three 17 year old boys locked in a house by a strange man so I guess our panic was understandable. We got his address from an envelope and I phoned 999. Norman had taken a bread knife out of the kitchen drawer and was stomping around the flat eyes out on stalks and nostrils flared. I am not sure what he intended to do with that knife and I am pretty sure Norman did not have a clue either. After a few minutes I got through to a desk officer working on the night shift at Skelmersdale Police station.

Officer: (slow sleepy Lancastrian drawl) “Hell – ohhh”

Me: (panicking speaking rapido and staccato) “We-are-locked-in-a-house-by-homosexual-please-please-help-us”

Officer: (painfully slow Lancastrian drawl) “You have been locked int owse by omosexual. What’s yer address lad?”

Me: (hyped beyond belief speaking so quick it was difficult to get the words out) “16-Boyd-Orr-Drive-Penicuik-Midlothian”

Officer: (very slow drawl) “Mid-low-thee-an. Yer a long way from home lad!”

The conversation continued and the Officer promised to send a car round. In the meantime the always cool and collected Struan was systematically going through the pockets of the guy’s suits in his wardrobe. Bingo. He found a key. We let ourselves out and started the long walk back to the Service Station. Two things happened on that 3 hour walk. Firstly a police car stopped, identified us as the caller and asked if we were ok. Surprisingly the driver did not give us a lift to the service station. Secondly the guy pulled up wound down his window and shouted: “You ungrateful little bastards I have had the Police round at my house” and then drove on. We made it to Coventry by midday and Skelmersdale became a fading memory – until the FA Cup draw was made a week ago.

I am looking forward to following Skelmerdale United as part of my Road to Wembley from Scotland. Let’s hope that by the time they get knocked out that my memories of Skelmersdale are a bit less salacious.