by Eddie Allen
During the evening, it became perfectly clear that Sue’s affections lay elsewhere. I tried to keep tabs on the situation and on two occasions caught glimpses of her intended deceit. What really pissed me off was the fact that the prick was married with two kids, and his bloody wife was at my party, totally oblivious of his intentions, dozy cow. I kept schtum, not wanting to spoil the party or get the facts wrong, so I bided my time and waited for them to make a mistake, which I’m sad to say they did; I’m not going into too much detail, let’s just say I nipped it in the bud and warned him off.
Meanwhile, Eltham United again had the Premier Division at their mercy; winning the title with four games left to play. The team were also in two cup finals. Daniel was voted player-of-the-year and Stephen young player-of-the-year, both had excellent seasons, as did the whole squad. Now, every year the league would enter the ‘Inter League Cup’ and every year since the league was formed, they got stuffed. The committee would pick a Premier Division manager to act as the league’s team manager; the individual’s task was to pick a squad of players, invariably Premier or Senior One players. However, this year would be different from others, because the committee in their infinite wisdom decided that Eltham United would represent the league. This didn’t go down too well with all the other member clubs, and the news was received with many objections. But the committee stood firm on their decision, secretly knowing if ever they had a chance of winning this prestigious tournament, now was the time. So Eltham United began what can only be described as a memorable and unprecedented end to the season. After securing three trophies, we took part in the Inter League Cup. Eltham United beat leagues from all over London, and only the Turkish Cypriot League stood between the team and the final.
News of our semi-final place reached the league with mixed reactions. The committee were over the moon, however other clubs secretly prayed we’d get turned over. After a rousing and bitterly fought semi-final, Oliver Suckos’ 90th minute strike sent Eltham United into the final, beating the Turkish Cypriot League 2-1. The players limped off the pitch to rapturous applause and cheering. I must admit that the performance against the Turks was without doubt the greatest and most resilient performance ever by an Eltham United side and that’s saying something, because there’d been a few over the last ten years.
May 26th, Barking Football Club’s Ground, North London:
“Inter League Cup Final vs the Woolwich ’n’ District League.”
Eltham started brightly, pinning their opponents in their own half for most of the first 45 minutes, restricting the Woolwich league to long-range hopeful efforts, Daniel’s fine effort hitting the bar, while Thomas Deloys was guilty of missing goal-scoring opportunities. Then a beautifully weighted 30 yard pass by Daniel found Oliver unmarked; his thunderous drive hit the back of the net, leaving the keeper stranded, only for the referee to rule the goal off-side. Five minutes later, Stephen’s long throw found Cameron unmarked, his cross found Oliver’s head, who glanced the ball into the net, and this one counted. By this stage, Eltham totally dominated the game. Cameron Shires well-struck volley hit the post and rebounded to Thomas, who hit the bar from six yards.
One-way traffic till the end of the game. Eltham had secured an unprecedented four timer and remains the only team to achieve such an accolade. I was so proud of Daniel and Stephen’s achievements that it brought a lump to my throat. Unfortunately, my joy for them both turned to disappointment much later in my life.
During the summer of 1996, the club staged various five-a-side competitions for seniors and kids, which went very well. The biggest tournament, ‘The Eltham Sevens’, attracted all the usual top teams in the surrounding boroughs, who were eager to win our very own tournament. Sadly for them and anyone else who had ideas of lowering Eltham United’s colours, they would have to dream on. The team cruised to victory in the sevens and then won the five-a-side championship. So, over a decade, Eltham United had won a staggering 18 trophies and boasted being unbeaten in their previous sixty-three league and cup games.
Scintillating stuff, eh? My dream of semi-pro football was still on course; having had visits from the FA and Kent League officials on the suitability of our ground. Certain aspects had to be addressed and introduced and rectified for the club to gain senior status. This wasn’t a major problem and could be easily achieved in the next six months, so I decided to stay with the London and Kent League for one more season, before taking the step up in football, which was planned for 97/98 season.
Another season got underway, and the club’s rich vein of form continued into 96/97. I found it increasingly difficult getting about; the cost of cabs to and fro was mounting. This caused major rows with Sue; she demanded that I take the bus. So, during the week I reluctantly used public transport and cabbed it at weekends. On quite a few occasions at the weekend, I would order a cab for around midnight and, for some unknown reason, I would be left stranded and have to walk home in freezing cold temperatures. My marriage to Sue was all but over; she used to flirt all the time while working behind the bar and constantly flaunted it in my face, which caused untold arguments and shouting matches. During the month of October 1996, Sue and me had a serious bust-up. The argument started over constant phone calls during the evenings. Every time I answered the phone, the other party would hang up. Whenever she was in my company, she’d switch her mobile off. I knew what was going on, but I had no proof. So I decided to call her bluff by packing my suitcase.
Big mistake, she even called me a cab. I had nowhere to go except the club, so I spent a few nights sleeping on the club’s benches. Well, the place was so damp during the night, the inevitable happened; I caught a bad chest infection. Sue felt sorry for me and let me back home, but I knew my life with her was coming to a close; I actually felt uncomfortable in my own home. I can understand that Sue had had enough and wanted to start a new life without me. I mean, I wasn’t the greatest husband ever to grace this planet. However, I did care for her and really loved my sons. But the way she went about ending our relationship was uncalled for and downright out of order.
Near the end of October, Eltham United were playing away in cup games, so I wasn’t at the club. Sue, as usual, was running the bar and the club was busy, with three games going on. It was five to twelve when some guy walked into the club and asked for a pint of Guinness. Sue obliged. Unfortunately, this was a set-up. The guy was actually a licence officer from the local nick. He promptly shut the bar for serving alcohol outside the regulated times. Now, the bar was the lifeline of the club and without it we were finished. The guy on the corner finally got what he wanted or so he thought.
After losing the club’s licence, I knew that if we didn’t pay the £1,000 per month bills, the club would automatically get shut down, so I chatted up the local publican and he agreed to get a temporary licence in his name for the club, naming Sue as bar manager. We meet at Greenwich magistrates and were granted a licence. Well, the guy on the corner went ballistic. He marched into the club in a frenzy under the influence of alcohol, swearing abuse at Sue and me. He shoved his face in mine and shouted belligerent remarks, but I stood my ground and kept schtum. With the help of others, we calmly ordered him off the premises. He screamed and shouted that he wasn’t finished with me, not by a long way yet. Somewhere deep inside I knew this guy would destroy my dream, I just knew it, and there was fuck all I could do to prevent him, and that sadly was the case!
At the end of November 1996, the month’s licence had expired and yet again we had to go to court to get a further 28-day licence, which was granted by Greenwich magistrates. The club was barely keeping its head above water, due to the restrictions on our licence. Every time we applied for an extension, we got declined. Consequently, we had to shut at eleven and nobody would book the club for private functions. Then, in January our application was heard at Woolwich magistrates court for some reason, and the court decided not to renew it. Apparently, the reason given was that the publican who was doing the honours for
us had some serious grief at his own boozer and they thought it was in the public’s best interest. What a load of bollocks! We were just a sports club who never had any aggro during or after the club’s opening times.
I refused to give the club up and soldiered on until May 1997. For five months, I kept the club going on no income, watching teams leave directly after their games and constantly fobbing-off creditors. During the month of March, it constantly rained, causing all the pitches to become waterlogged. This was a hard time, as I had no dosh and the club was thousands in debt. So, early one Sunday morning, after borrowing a few quid, I took a chance and drove to B&Q and bought six bags of sand for the main pitches and goalmouths. Well, I only had three weeks left of my ban, but in hindsight, it was a stupid thing to do. All I did was load a certain person’s gun. I arrived with the sand at the club at around 9:15 p.m. Surprise, surprise! Waiting for me were three old Bill. They were given a tip-off that I would arrive at this time, so I got nicked for driving on a ban with no insurance. During April, my ban was up and I started back on the tools again, working for a company in Dulwich. I also appeared in court for driving on a ban. On arriving, my brief informed me that I would probably get a three year ban, or, at worst, 6 months inside.
Great! I thought. I’d only just gone back to work; this just gets better and better. While I sat in the dock, my mind constantly churned over the fact that I knew Sue was having an affair. I felt totally alone and depressed. The judge who thankfully was in a good mood interrupted my thoughts.
“Stand up, Eddie. I’ve listened to your solicitor and decided not to give you a further ban. Instead I’m ordering that you do 250 hours community service.”
Blimey, I thought, a little bit of luck at last!
Well, forgive me for not being over the moon, as my tad bit of luck didn’t last long. Over the next five weeks my whole world collapsed, with a run of devastating and catastrophic events.
The last two weeks of May and the first three weeks of June 1997 started with the inevitable collapse of the club. After the electric was cut off, I had no choice but to accept that my dream was over. Then followed my marriage. Sue suggested that we had a trial separation and I reluctantly agreed. That was nearly nine years ago. So my life with Sue ended and the club now had so many debts that I had no choice but to disband it after ten years. I then found myself homeless and, to rub salt into the wound, QPR got relegated from the Premiership. All this in the space of five horrendous weeks!
My marriage break-up was extremely bitter. To be honest, I can’t be arsed to trouble my brain with the shit that followed. All I will say is, lies, lies and even more lies followed. Unfortunately Daniel and Stephen believed every word. At the end of the day, they are grown adults, and it was their choice to disown me. Anyway, the council reckoned that if I signed over the house to Sue, they would re-house me, so I did exactly that. Within weeks, I was offered a bedsit, which I gleefully accepted. I recall my first night; I sat on my suitcase drinking wine while waiting for my takeaway to be delivered. My mind drifted back to Gupta. Bloody hell, everything he said had happened. Is it possible that another human being could read someone’s life, past, present and future, by just simply tapping into his or her mind? The knocking on my front door disturbed my thoughts. My takeaway had arrived and not before time; I was ravenous. While I sat munching on my pizza, I started asking myself questions.
Where are they all now? My so-called friends and loyal players, nowhere that’s where, every last one of them disowned me.
I must admit to feeling a bit scared. I felt like I was pulled from my goldfish bowl and dumped into the ocean. This was the first time since I was fifteen that I found myself alone, but this time it was different. I had no friends or family to help me through; it was just me against the world, a very daunting prospect!
Over the next few months, to say I started to lose the plot would be an understatement. I drove to work in a van fit for the scrapyard, bent MOT, tax and insurance. Believe me when I say I had no choice. The van was unrepairable and it would never in a million years pass its MOT and I was not in a financial position to buy a new one. My bedsit had nothing but a single clapped-out bed, so my priorities lay elsewhere. My community service took up every Saturday and took me nearly a year to complete. Having said that, I must admit to really looking forward to every Saturday. I would stay in Friday nights so I was totally fresh and on the ball. Looking after disabled children filled me with different emotions - emotions that touched the very core of my soul. It was an unbelievably humbling and rewarding experience.
Anyway getting back to that knackered van, I recall driving to work on a frosty November morning, when suddenly there was a loud bang and scraping sound coming from the rear. I pulled over and jumped out of the van. Rushing to the rear, I noticed to my horror the tail of the van had sunk, squashing the exhaust. I opened the rear doors and to my astonishment, both shock absorbers had smashed their way through both wheel arches and were poking up looking at me, as if to say, “fucked you now, son!”
Well, it being a Friday morning and payday, I decided to bodge the van up, thinking that it’s imperative that this sack of shit gets me to work. I jacked up the van until the shock absorbers disappeared from inside. I then straightened out four jiffy hangers and, using my cordless, started drilling holes so I could bolt the lot together onto what was left of my arches. Forgive me for blowing my own trumpet, but I reckon I must have been an engineer in a previous life. I let the jack down, half expecting the lot to crash through, but it never. I jumped into the van and drove slowly to work. Now, if that had happened ten minutes earlier, I would have been stuck halfway through the Blackwall tunnel! I remember years earlier breaking down in yet another old banger in the middle of the Rotherhithe tunnel on my way to work. My God, what a fiasco! I caused a three mile tailback to bloody Deptford! Surprisingly, I never got nicked.
Eventually I had both arches welded by a work colleague, bit of a bodge, but what do ya expect for a score? Anyway, the arches lasted longer than the bloody van.
It was during this period that I made a few errors in judgement, and I mean big errors. I want to try and explain how I felt; it was like a bereavement, like something had died inside of me and I couldn’t accept it, half expecting to wake up and it never happened. The feelings I encountered were alien to my mind and heart, so the only way I could deal with it was to act like I didn’t give a toss, but in reality I was dying inside of a broken heart. But in true Eddie fashion, I buried it! To this day, I still refuse to show any feelings when someone hurts me and believe me, there’s been a few who have tried. However, I no longer have to carry on with the act and the true Eddie has emerged from all the heartache and disappointments.
Daniel’s wedding, oh boy, why did I behave in such a childish manner? My only excuse was the way I was feeling, which at the time was completely alienated from everyone. So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to be the centre of attention, which I hasten to add, didn’t go down too well with Daniel, or the other guests. To this day, I still beat myself up over my stupid actions. I mean, why I took a call on my mobile during the wedding reception speeches dumbfounds me. I think my actions stemmed from my experience at the church. I stood outside while the photos were being taken. Nobody spoke to me; it was like I was on parole for mass murder. I’ve never felt so stranded in a sea of guests. Everyone ignored me and even the brief conversations with Daniel and Stephen were strained. I couldn’t even buy them a wedding present, due to the fact I was so bloody skint.
Anyway for what its worth, I’m truly sorry for that day. Over the next few weeks, I eventually found myself a job working in Southwark, refurbishing the council’s empty properties. At last, I started to get myself a bit straight; unfortunately, my elbows and wrist started to give me a lot of grief, ultimately ending up with cortisone injections every four months just so I could work free from pain. I recall taking the morning off work to have my injections and afterwards I visited the council offices in G
rove Park, to see if there were any chances of me getting a flat. I explained to them that my bedsit was so small I couldn’t even get a fridge or cooker in the gaff and as for a washing machine, well let’s just say a yellow builder’s bucket was mine. The housing officer informed me that hell had more chance of freezing over than I did of getting a flat. No points, none at all, he told me. I left the offices totally dejected and seriously pissed off.
On the plus side, my new job seemed to be going OK, thankfully, because I was spending a fortune on dry-cleaning and bloody takeaways. Edward would come and visit me nearly every evening and, on quite a few occasions, we went to the pictures or bowling. He was the only one, and I mean only one, who stood by me through all the lies and accusations. I think deep in his heart he knew the real truth, and never believed the lies that were started in a vain attempt to destroy me. Poor Edward; he had to sit on the fence and say nothing. He’s a good kid. When I think back to the day he was born, so tiny and fragile, who’d have thought that this little weenie bundle of joy would later in life kick his old man’s arse on the golf course? Brilliant, utterly brilliant! I won’t mention the badminton either, ha ha, too close to call.
Over the next couple of months, I started dating a girl from the office at work. She was ten years younger than me, and really great fun to be around. To say she was vivacious would be an understatement. We just simply hit it off; she liked the things I liked and vice versa. It didn’t last a heartbeat, thanks to Sue, who thought it was OK for her to have a fella, but not for me to have a girlfriend. Unfortunately, my bedsit was on the ground floor and Jackie and I had just returned with a bottle of wine. We were sat on the floor, listening to music and chatting, when suddenly I heard screaming and swearing from outside, then to my horror the front room windows smashed, covering Jackie and the whole room in glass. She screamed and jumped up in shock. Sue was on the other side of the broken windows, hurling a torrent of abuse at me. I just looked at her, shaking my head in disbelief. Well, as you can imagine, Jackie didn’t take too kindly to what happened and a week later gave me the Ole Spanish-Archer routine, ‘El, Bow’. I don’t think she appreciated the fact I wouldn’t inform the old Bill. I just bought new glass and repaired the windows myself. The only reason I mentioned the window incident was because it has a bearing later on. Soon after, I decided enough was enough and started divorce proceedings with my solicitors for two acts of adultery. I must admit to being a bit reluctant to divorce Sue. I still found it hard to accept that there wasn’t a chance in hell of repairing our marriage. Well, when you’ve spent from the age of fifteen till forty-one with the same person, surely you can understand how much it hurt?
