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DUNCAN THE TALKING FOOTBALL A personalised downloaded story that teaches the skills and history of the Beautiful Game

NORMAN and MICHAEL GILLER

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DUNCAN THE TALKING FOOTBALL Chapter 1 A surprise from my best friend

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ETER and his best friend went to bed early. They had a big match in the morning and wanted to be fresh when they woke up. Granddad had told them one of their favourite bedtime stories about a footballer called Len Shackleton. He had played for Sunderland when Granddad was the same age as Peter now.

“His nickname,” said Granddad, “was the Clown Prince of Football because he was always playing jokes on the opposing team. He used to push the ball through their legs on dribbling runs, and sometimes he would sit on the ball and dare them to come and try and get it off him.

“Shackleton was so clever that we used to say he could make the ball sit up and talk …”

As Peter lay in bed thinking of the Clown Prince he said to his best friend, “Just imagine if you could sit up and talk.”

“But of course I can talk,” his best friend said. “It’s just that I’m shy and will talk only to you.”

Peter looked in astonishment and amazement at his best friend.

“But you’re a football,” he said to the shiny thermoplastic ball lying alongside him. “Footballs don’t talk.”

“Well I do,” the ball said. “But I will only talk to you because you look after me and care about me. If you’ll listen, I will help teach you how to play with me properly, and I will tell you lots of stories about ancestors of mine who were very famous footballs.”

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Peter thought he must have been dreaming as he drifted off to sleep, cuddled up to his best friend. He called him Duncan, after a great Manchester United footballer that his Granddad had told him about. His name was Duncan Edwards, and he was considered one of the finest footballers ever to play for England before he died at the age of 21 following an air crash in 1958, when the United team were flying back from Munich after a European Cup tie against Red Star Belgrade.

Experts said that he would have been a certainty to play in England’s 1966 World Cup winning team. “My grandfather was the ball in that match,” said Duncan, pumping out his chest with pride “It was one of the most famous and controversial games in football history. Geoff Hurst scored a hat-trick for England in a 4-2 victory over West Germany in a final that went to extra-time.”

Peter smiled knowlingly. “As if I didn’t know that,” he said, proud of his knowledge of the history of football. “His second goal in extra-time bounced against the underside of the crossbar and over the goal-line.”

“Ah,” interrupted Duncan. “But WAS it over the goal-line?

What I can tell you is that Granddad said that there was some chalk on his behind that suggested perhaps that all of him did not cross the line, so it should not have counted.”

Peter smiled in his sleep as he wondered whether Sir Geoff Hurst should have been credited with two and threequarter goals.

As his bedside alarm went off the next morning to the tune of Football Crazy he laughed to himself at his daft dream in which he had been having a conversation with Duncan. “If only” he thought with a sigh, “Duncan could talk ...”

“What are you laughing at?” came an inquisitive voice alongside him.

Peter looked at Duncan, his eyes wide open with wonder. “You CAN talk?” he said, unable to believe his ears.

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Granddad Duncan said that he had chalk on his behind after he had bounced down off the bar from Geoff Hurst’s shot in the 1966 World Cup final at Wembley, but the Russian linesman ruled that he had crossed the line. “It was threequarters of a goal,” said Granddad.

“Of course I can,” said Duncan, in a matter of fact way. “But I will only talk to you, and I will clam up if you tell anybody. You have earned the right for me to talk to you because you have truly loved me and looked after me from the first moment I came into your life on your birthday. Together, Peter, we will learn how the game of football should really be played and I will tell you all about the history of the Beautiful Game and the important part we balls have played in it.”

He pumped himself up with pride again as he added: “Without us there would no football. We are irreplaceable.”

Peter’s Mum came into the bedroom with a small glass of orange juice. “Who are you talking to?” she asked. “I thought I heard two voices.”

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Peter blushed a little. “Uh, I was talking to myself,” telling a tiny fib, because his mother would have considerd him mad if he had said he was talking to Duncan.

“Well make sure you talk sense,” she said, laughing. “Granddad is always talking to himself, and it is complete nonsense. He says it is the only way he can get the answers that he wants.”

After brushing and flossing his teeth and washing, Peter pulled on his Junior England tracksuit and went down stairs for a light breakfast, with Duncan tucked underneath his arm.

“It’s a very special game today, Duncan,” he said. “We are up against Maplin Marauders, one of the best teams in our district.”

“Just remember the golden rules,” said Duncan. “When your team is in possession make sure you are in position. And when the opposition has the ball mark a man not space.”

“You thinking aloud, son?” his father asked as Peter walked to the breakfast table.

“I was talking to Duncan,” he said, honestly. “What a pity he can’t answer me.”

Peter smiled at Duncan, who winked back. Their secret was safe.

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DUNCAN THE TALKING FOOTBALL Chapter 2 Discovering Push and Run

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uncan sat on the lap of Peter in the back of the car as it set off for the match against Maplin Marauders, with Peter’s Dad at the wheel and so intent on following the SatNav instructions that he did not overhear their conversation.

“What is so important about today’s game?” Duncan asked.

“It’s the semi-final of the All Districts Cup tournament,” said Peter. “If we win we go to the final at Wembley, the most famous ground in the country.”

“You don’t have to tell me about Wembley,” said Duncan. “Many of my family have appeared there. Only recently my cousin was shot into the net by Frank Lampard for Chelsea’s winning goal against Everton in the 2009 FA Cup final. He is now living on the sideboard at Lampard’s home.”

Peter held Duncan in his hands and asked: “From where do you want to watch today’s game?”

“Watch it?” Duncan said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “You mean I’m not the match ball?”

“Sorry, but it has to be a neutral ball. It would be wonderful to play with you, but the District Association provides the ball.”

Duncan tried hard not to sulk. “Put me on the touchline,” he said. “Tell your Dad to keep an eye on me in case anybody tries to steal me. Make sure you talk to me at every chance you get so that I can coach you. What position are you playing?”

“I’m the midfield playmaker,” said Peter, who preferred to play up front but unselfishly surrendered his hunger for trying to score goals to being a team player.

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“My Great Grandfather was one of the most prominent footballs of the 1950s,” said Duncan. “He had leather panels, a thick lace and a bladder inside that had to be pumped up before each match.”

He puffed out his cheeks, making Peter laugh.

His Dad glanced over his shoulder. “What are you laughing at back there?” he asked.

“I was just imagining Duncan with a lace in him,” said Peter.

“Did you ever play with a laced ball, Dad?” “I’m not that old,” said his Dad. “But your Granddad did. He used to tell me that the balls then weighed the same as now at the start of a game, but on a muddy pitch could be twice as heavy by the end because they were not water resistant like today.”

“That’s true,” Duncan said, just for the ears of Peter. “I weigh exactly the same as my ancestors, which is between 410 and 450 grams, or 14 to 16 ounces. But their leather casing used to soak up the rain and mud and it could be like heading a bag of cement. It was also very dangerous for we footballs back then.”

“Dangerous?” queried Peter. “What was dangerous about it?”

“Two of my family actually exploded during FA Cup finals,” Duncan said, tears showing in his eyes. “It happened in back to back finals in 1946 and 1947. They were so pumped up that they punctured while the games were in progress and had to be replaced. Footballs everywhere went into mourning.”

Peter cuddled Duncan. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I will always make sure you are exactly the right weight. Not too hard and not too soft.”

He leant forward in his seat as far as his safety belt would allow and put a question to his father: “How long have footballs been around, Dad?” “Well the Chinese claim to have invented the first football way back in the distant past,” he said. “But the footballs as we know them appeared in the mid-19th Century. Bootmaker William Gilbert, who made his reputation manufacturing rugby balls for his local Rugby school, exhibited both an oval ball and a round ball at the Great Exhibition at Crystal Palace in 1851.”

“Correct,” said Duncan, joining in the conversation without the 7

driver hearing. “It was very sad, because they perished in the Great Fire that destroyed the Crystal Palace exhibition centre that was mostly made of glass. Some of my earliest ancestors were born in the United States, where American inventor Charles Goodyear designed the first vulcanized rubber football in 1855.”

Peter’s Dad continued talking, not realizing that his son was also getting information from Duncan. “The big breakthrough came in the 1860s,” he said, “when a ball manufacurer called H.J. Lindon developed the first inflatable rubber bladder. Before then his wife had died from a lung disease caused by blowing up hundreds of pig bladders using her mouth. This tragedy inspired Lindon to create the inflatable bladder, which to all intents and purposes is still at the heart of today’s footballs.”

Duncan shuddered. “Can we change the subject? All this talk about what goes on inside me is making me feel car sick.”

“You were saying that your Great Grandfather was a prominent leather ball in the 1950s,” Peter said. “What did he achieve?”

“His proudest moment,” said Duncan, “was being part of the Push and Run revolution that swept Tottenham to the Second and First Division championships in successive seasons.”

“Push and Run?” said Peter. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It was the most simple yet effective style of football ever invented,” explained Duncan. “It was developed and perfected by a coach and manager called Arthur Rowe, who taught it in Hungary in the 1930s before returning to London to teach it at Tottenham, where he had been a player.”

Duncan told how the ‘Push and Run’ Spurs had dominated English football in the early 1950s, featuring such outstanding players as Alf Ramsey, Bill Nicholson, Ron Burgess and Eddie Baily. The Rowe plan was to keep everything simple. He said: “My philosophy was that the easier you made the game the easier it was to play it. So I used to tell the players to push the ball to a team-mate and then run into space to take the instant return pass.

It was making the most of the ‘wall pass’ or the ‘one-two.’”

It was while playing this style that Spurs raced away with the League championship in 1950-51, and two years later Hungary 8

Great Granddad Duncan tried to warn England captain Billy Wright (left) that this was the closest he would get to the fabulous Ferenc Puskas, the skipper of Hungary at Wembley in 1953 when he scored two and helped set up a hat-trick for team-mate Nandor Hidegkuti in a 6-3 victory.

It was England’s first ever defeat at Wembley by foreign opponents.

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–­ playing a more sophisticated yet still simple Rowe style of push and run ­– became the first overseas team to beat England at Wembley. Their star player was Ferenc Puskas, known as the Galloping Major because he was a major in the Hungarian army.

He had a fierce left foot shot, and later became famous with the outstanding Real Madrid team of the 1950s and ‘60s that won the European Cup fives times in a row.

“My Great Grandfather was picked out of the net six times by England goalkeeper Gil Merrick in the Wembley match against Hungary,” revealed Duncan. “He had never been so humiliated.

Until then England had been known as the Old Masters of world football. Hungary were the new masters. In Budapest a few months later, one of my Hungarian relatives was delighted to be put into the England net seven times. And it was all with football that was simple.”

Peter shook his head in disbelief. “England let in thirteen goals in two matches against Hungary? That is astonishing, and you say it was all done with a push and run style of football?”

“Exactly,” said Duncan, “and that is how I would like to see you play the game today. When you see a team-mate in a better position than you, pass to him and then run into an unmarked position where you can receive the ball back. Football is a simple game too often made difficult by coaches and players trying to do complicated things. Speaking as a football, I want you to make my life uncomplicated. Keep it simple.”

They were interrupted by Peter’s Dad. “Here’s the stadium,” he announced. “It’s a nice day for a semi-final.”

“Yes,” said Duncan. “Wish I was the match ball.”

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DUNCAN THE TALKING FOOTBALL Chapter 3 The Wizard of Dribble

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HE team Peter played for was called Darchester Rovers, and they had reached the semi-final of the All Districts Cup with football that was not pretty to watch but very effective. Their coach Wally Lowndes had once played for Wimbledon, and strongly believed in the direct path to goal. He described it as ‘Route 1’ football, with the ball being hammered long from defence into the opponents’ half and then the Darchester players chasing it.

As a midfield playmaker, Peter often used to get neckache looking up towards the sky as the ball was belted high over his head towards the opponents’ goal. He would have much preferred to play the type of Push and Run passing game that Duncan had described. But as football is very much a team game, he accepted that he had to play the way the coach told him.

Peter had Duncan trapped under his right foot as he listened to Wally Lowndes giving the pre-match instructions before the crucial game against Maplin Marauders, a team that played stylish attacking football that often left them exposed in defence.

“I want the ball continually kicked long into the Maplin half of the field,” Lowndes demanded. “They like to attack in packs, but so many of them come forward that they leave gaps behind them.

Play the ball over their heads and then chase it like the wind.”

He looked hard at Peter. “You,” he said, “have excellent ball control, but you tend to dwell on it for too long. Get rid of it quickly.

Just pump it far ahead of you and then chase.”

There was a tutt-tutting sound from below Peter’s right foot that only he heard. “What a way to treat a football,” he heard Duncan 11

say. “How would he liked to be kicked back and forth like a bag of rags? Whatever happened to finesse and style?”

The coach shook each player by the hand and wished them luck.

“This is the most important game of the season so far,” he said.

“The reward for victory is a trip to Wembley, the home of our great game. Give it everything you’ve got. I don’t want anybody coming off the pitch knowing he has not given of his best. Good luck.”

Peter dribbled Duncan on to the pitch with him for the pre-match kick-in. “I know you have to follow your coaching orders,” Duncan said, “but if you get the opportunity try a few short dribbles that take one or two of their players out and then pass it quickly to an unmarked team-mate.”

Dribbling came naturally to Peter. He had been brought up on tales from his Granddad of Stanley Matthews, the legendary Wizard of Dribble. The first knight of football, Sir Stanley had perfected his art with hours and hours of practise with a small tennis ball. He became world famous for his shuffling runs down the right wing for England, Blackpool and Stoke City. Remarkably, he was still playing in the old First Division at the age of 50. He was a fitness fanatic who went for early morning runs throughout his career.

Matthews would send defenders stumbling the wrong way with clever feints and dips of the shoulder, pretending to go one way and then suddenly accelerating and sprinting past his marker on the other side. Granddad said: “He used to sell so many dummies that the spectators would have to pay to get back into the ground after he had sent them the wrong way! Stanley was what I would call the Great Deceiver, convincing defenders he was going to do one thing while in his mind he knew he was going to do the opposite. Len Shackelton could make the ball sit up and talk.

Stanley Matthews could make it sing.”

Duncan, of course, had a story about the Wizard. “One of my Great Uncles was the ball in his most famous game,” he said. “He was playing for Blackpool against Bolton in the 1953 FA Cup final at Wembley when he was 37. In those days an FA Cup winners’ medal was the most coveted prize in the game and he had never 12

Duncan said the leather, laced ball the Wizard of Dribble Stanley Matthews played with was the same size as now but not water resistant.

Matthews was the first footballer knighted in 1965.

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won it. The entire country was gripped with Matthews mania. It was the year our Queen Elizabeth was crowned, and Stanley was crowned King of Football.

“Bolton were winning 3-1 with 30 minutes to go and there seemed no way Blackpool could win. Then the Wizard took over, and he ran the Bolton defence dizzy with my Great Uncle at his feet, dancing this way and that as he laid on three goals to lift Blackpool to a thrilling 4-3 victory. His team-mate Stan Mortensen scored the first FA Cup final hat-trick at Wembley, but the game is always remembered as the Matthews Final, and it was my Great Uncle who went into the net seven times in one of the most exciting games of all time.”

Duncan, who could be very long winded when fuly pumped up, had not finished. “That Matthews Final, of course, was in the leather ball and lace days. In a match against Portugal in Lisbon in 1947 Matthews and the great Preston winger Tom Finney played in the England attack together for the first time and laid on four goals each in a sensational 10-0 victory. Yes, 10-0. Tommy Lawton and Stan Mortensen each scored four goals, and Tommy jokingly complained to Matthews that he he sent over one of his crosses with the lace facing the wrong way, so that when he headed it into the net it marked his forehead. They played with one of my Portuguese ancestors, who was said to have cried when he was sent into the Portugal net for a tenth time.”

Peter tried to shake the Stanley Matthews dribbling stories out of his head as he warmed up for the big game against Maplin. He knew his coach would be furious if he started to hold on to the ball and try to beat players with skill and cunning rather than a big kick and running.

As the referee put the match ball down on the centre circle, he rolled Duncan to a place a yard behind the goal and then prepared to take his place in midfield.

“Good luck,” he heard Duncan shout. “Play with your head as well as your feet. Remember the three C’s: Compose, control, concentrate.”

The referee blew his whistle, and the semi-final was under way.

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ŠNormanMichaelGiller 2014