It probably seems churlish to mention this after one of West Ham’s finest performances in years, but I am yet to be convinced by Adrian. Of course he can’t be blamed for Liverpool’s goal, but he could have got himself sent off for being monumentally stupid, and his refusal to catch anything but the simplest of crosses gives me the heebie-jeebies.
I mention this because, for me, goalkeepers define West Ham. Phil Parkes was brilliant, and so were we (most of the time); Allen McKnight was awful, and so were we (all of the time); Bobby Ferguson never quite lived up to expectations, and neither did we (although, to be fair, I suppose you could say that about WHUFC at just about any time).
When I first started supporting West Ham, the man in the green jersey was Jim Standen, who was not only a very decent keeper but also an extremely useful county cricketer for Worcestershire. It seems unthinkable now that a footballer with a top-flight club could spend the summer months bowling seam up for a living, but things were different in the Sixties – not least the amount of money professional sportsmen were paid. More famously, of course, Geoff Hurst was on the books of Essex CCC, but only turned out once for the first team. Standen played first class cricket for 11 seasons, heading his county’s bowling averages as Worcestershire won the championship 50 years ago this month. That was sandwiched between winning performances in the FA Cup final and the Cup Winners’ Cup final. Well played, sir.
They say you have to be mad to want to play in goal. If that’s the case, there have been approximately 30 suitable cases for treatment who’ve started a first team match for West Ham since Standen’s day – a mixture of good, bad, indifferent and – in the case of Colin Mackleworth – a total mystery to me.
So little did I know about the man I took the trouble to find out a few details about him. It seems he was Standen’s understudy, making his debut in the historic year of 1966 and playing his final game for us later that season … in a 6-1 defeat which saw Manchester United win the first division title. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Mackleworth moved on. He went to Leicester to contest the No 1 slot with another young hopeful. Unfortunately, the other contender for the shirt was Peter Shilton. Colin only ever got a handful games. But he was destined to return to Upton Park wearing blue, if not the blue of Leicester City. He signed up for the Old Bill, and being based at Bow police station he was, apparently, often see on duty at the ground trying to keep the likes of the Teddy Bunter Firm and the South Bank Crew in order. Not so much poacher turned gamekeeper, more like goalkeeper turned peacekeeper.
Others have stuck in the mind for a variety of reasons.
We all had high hopes for Mervyn Day when he emerged in the early Seventies. He was a brilliant shot-stopper and should have gone on to enjoy a wonderful career. Trouble was, when it came to crosses he was as jittery as an apostle at the Last Supper.
Peter Grotier may not have been the greatest, but his facial hair was outstanding. I had a moustache just like his.
Pub quiz time. Jussi Jasskelainen is the second Finn to play in goal for West Ham: who was the first? That was Neil Finn, who had the chance to be a teenage superstar … and let it slip through his fingers at Maine Road on New Year’s Day in 1996. Finn had been pitched into the side just three days after his 17th birthday, making him the youngest ever player in the Premiership at the time. Sadly, this was no fairy tale with the customary happy ending, and we went down 2-1. Finn never got another chance at West Ham. (And I doubt I’ll ever get another chance to compile a pub quiz.)
Jimmy Walker was older – but shorter. At 5ft 8in many observers reckoned he was too small to be a top-class keeper, but anyone who saw his heroics at Stamford Bridge in the 2004 League Cup would beg to differ. Yes, we lost 1-0, but saving the junior Frank Lampard’s penalty was one of the highlights of the season.
Les Sealey was what is known in football parlance as a “character”. He had more clubs than Tiger Woods but proved the old adage that while you can take the boy out of the East End, you can’t take the East End out of the boy. There are even some folk at Coventry who will tell you that such was his love of West Ham he deliberately let in a few goals when we played them in his last game for the Sky Blues.
When he wasn’t selling his team-mates dodgy high-end merchandise, terrorising his own hapless defenders, or entertaining crowds by standing on his hands when the ball was up the other end, he was an excellent keeper – as any Man Utd fan who saw him play will testify. So where did he play on his West Ham debut at Highbury in 1995? Up front as a makeshift striker, of course. That’s the way we do it! (Admittedly, it was as the third substitute after John Moncur had gone off injured. For once, Harry’s claim that he was down to the bare bones had a ring of truth about it.)
Les, nephew of Cup Winners’ Cup hero Alan Sealey, died tragically young – aged just 43. Stephen Bywater, one of his protégés when Sealey became goalkeeping coach in his second spell at Upton Park, was so moved by his death he adopted 43 as his squad number when he moved to Derby. Young Bywater, who told the BBC he believed Les was looking after him from beyond the grave, then made 43 league and cup appearances in the first season at his new club. How spooky is that?
There are several contenders for West Ham’s number one No 1; Parkes, Miklosko, Green – even, perhaps, the much underrated Shaka Hislop. But there is no contest whatsoever when it comes to the worst. Step forward Allen Darrell McKnight, aka McKnightmare. Considering he only played 23 league games for the club, it is remarkable how much of an impression he made. There are still grown men in therapy as a direct result of having watched him in action. He made so many blunders it’s hard to pick his worst mistake, but the 3-0 home defeat by Luton in the first leg of the 1989 League Cup semi-final is the performance that sticks in my mind most of all.
The word “inept” could have been invented specially for Mr McNit. (There are several other words that could have been invented for him as well, of course, but this column is sometimes read by women and children.)
To determine just who was the best we’ve ever had, I conducted a scientific poll among supporters whose opinion officially counts for more than mine in all matters, namely Mrs W. There was only ever going to be one winner – Phil Parkes, the man who made Cossack hairspray a must-have fashion accessory for any man aged under 30 during the late Seventies.
But if Parkes was the best, Ludo ran him a close second in my book and he, of course, is the one we have immortalised in song.
If you’ve never been to an away game (what am I saying? Of course you’ve been to an away game!) it is worth it if only for the pleasure of watching the bemusement on the faces of opposition supporters when, as with one voice, thousands of travelling cockneys introduce themselves with the rather unlikely information that: “My name is Ludek Miklosko.”
Now I’m no geography teacher, and I would certainly hate to get a reputation as a killjoy, but there is a slight error in the next line. Mr Miklosko does not, in fact, come from “near Moscow”. He actually hails from Prostejov, in the Czech Republic, which is some 1,734 kilometers from the Russian capital. What’s more, the Czechs and the Russians don’t get on famously well, as you would know if you’ve ever seen them square up to one another on the ice hockey rink.
So, bearing that one small alteration in mind, clear your throat and let’s give it a go. Shall I count us in? One, two, one, two, three … Oi, Big Boy, What’s Your Name?
You will undoubtedly be gutted when I tell you that there will be no Brian Williams column next week. I am taking a week off to finish my book (it’s due back at the library). See you in a fortnight.