Steve Brazier on two sporting heroes....
Last August I arranged my annual pilgrimage to Molineux with my step-sister, Maureen. It was to be our fifth attempt to see Wolves win. Even in their record-breaking spell in the Third Division (or League One as it now euphemistically known), we had only seen them draw.
During a phone call with my old classmate Roger Nash, he let slip that he hadn't been to Molineux since 1974. I was shocked. He and I never missed a home game in our school days. But like all my (now only distant) living relatives in Wolverhampton, he had lapsed into a grumbling non-involvement, far removed from the selfless acceptance of failure which afflicts a dyed-in-the-wool football supporter.
So I asked him if he'd like to join Maureen and me and he agreed.
We arranged to meet at the Billy Wright statue at 2.30 on the day, my wife having driven me from Nottingham via Penkridge where we picked up Maureen. Roger was on time but when I made a move towards the turnstiles, he said " Hang on a minute, I told Bill Tranter we were going to be here and he's coming to say hello."
In our school days, Bill excelled at sport, captaining both the WMGS rugby and cricket teams. He was Head Boy in 1964-65. We both studied geography at University College London, sharing a grim room in a lodging house for the first term. He had married the lovely Linda Leurs, with whom I had shared two years in a cupboard in the Art Room between 1963 and 1965. We weren't alone, Vicky Lyons was there too and I relished their company as we worked blithely towards our ignominious failure of A level Art. Both of them went on, I think, to teach the subject but I was so traumatised that I only picked up a brush again at the age of 61.
Bill arrived and I asked if he was going to the match."I've got a season ticket. Never miss" he said. I was overwhelmed and shook his hand again, so proud to find the first person I know still living in Wolverhampton who has kept the faith and not let the bad times dishearten them. He even goes to occasional away games.
And how did Wolves do that day ? Ninety minutes were up. Maureen and I shrugged resignedly. We must put a jinx on them when we come. But two minutes into injury time, a woebegone Cardiff City defender sliced a centre into his own goal and Wolves won, undeservedly, 1-0.
Roger : you must come with us more often, I think you've broken the spell.
Published in WMGS OPA Newsletter Spring 2015