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FOR LEYTON ORIENT FANS WHO REMEMBER THE GLORY DAYS OF THE EARLY 60s... THE UNTOLD STORY OF O's BEST-EVER TEAM...
WHEN we make our periodic pilgrimages to Brisbane Road - sorry, Barry, The Matchroom Stadium - my son JJ comes in for some good-natured ribbing from his pals. Which league are you in? Who were you were playing on Saturday? How many did you lose by? All that jazz. Much of it from the fashion-followers of Arsenal and Manchester United, Chelsea and Liverpool, Tottenham and even West Ham. ‘What do I tell ’em?’ JJ asks me. Tell ’em they’re just fair weather supporters, pot-hunters, creatures of convenience. Tell them that unless you come from round the corner to the ground not the other end of the M1 you’re not genuine fans. ‘So why do we support the Orient, dad?’ Well, we don’t live there any more but it used to be my home and home is where the heart is - and the O’s are our roots. Not only that but real football supporting is about the club you grow up with, however humble, not the glamorous League, Cup and Euro-giants hundreds of miles away. So remind them that every dog has its day and we had ours. Not that JJ was around to relish those two halcyon seasons, the year we went up from the old second division and our year of grace in what was to become the Premiership. All that was a quarter of a century before he was born. So I tell him how magical it felt to be an O’s fan mingling with the mighty. I tell him how Charlton and Lewis were the sturdiest full-backs in the game. How Lucas, Bishop and Lea were the best damn half-back line a man could wish for. How Foster and Graham were the most under-rated players in England. How McDonald and White were wonders of that lost species, the jinking old-fashioned winger. I tell him that Dave Dunmore was a god who scored goals made in heaven and that Johnny Carey was the mild-mannered genius of a manager who channelled those eclectic talents into the beam of sunlight which dazzled the East End of London for one brief but glorious spell. And I tell him about the day Terry McDonald, the father of the author of this nostalgic reference to that enchanted time, floated in a goal from way out near the flag on the half-way line, to embarrass Manchester United and to give us hope that we might actually survive in the big time. Of course it was not to be. No matter. We had our season in the sun and we remember those precious moments, while our selective memory mercifully blanks out the dismay of inevitable relegation. For me personally, those two seasons were a catalyst for my career in sports journalism. For a start, I sharpened my pen by reporting on Orient’s exploits for the Walthamstow Guardian. Just as importantly, if not more so, my job gave me hours-upon-hours of access to the wisdom of Johnny Carey. It also opened up friendships with those players which gave me invaluable insight into the workings and mentality of the professional game. Such relationships are rare, almost to the point of being non-existent, in the celebrity world of the Premiership and I remain indebted to them for all that help in my formative years. Of course, all good things come at a price and mine was paid in losing bets at the old snooker hall close by the ground in the High Road. That was where we spent many an afternoon hour after training. Naturally, our promotion heroes were possessed of far better skills than I, no matter what the size of the balls concerned. So there have been many consolations for being an Orient man through bad times and good. Professionally, for me, supporting Orient does not interfere with my judgement of the global game which is a key element of my job at the Daily Mail. If only it did! Never mind. We enjoyed another promotion last season, albeit in the lower reaches of the League. And who knows, maybe there will be another miracle at the top one day in the future. Never say never. Why do we support the O’s? This book, a labour of love for Terry McDonald’s son Tony, will help my own son understand. HOW TO ORDER YOUR COPY OF THE BOOK By Telephone Simply call our Credit/Debit Card Hotline on 01708 744 333. By Post Write to us at: LO Book, Football World, 103 Douglas Road, Hornchurch, Essex, RM11 1AW. Enclose your cheque for £16.99, payable to Football World. By Email Click here and then submit your completed form to us... |
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Foreword by Jeff Powell...