I was given a copy of The Journal from a couple of weeks ago which had a picture of me captaining the Norton Rangers Under-12 boys. The picture was supplied by John Newport and I would love to have a copy.

It brings back so many memories. I was fortunate enough to scrape through the eleven-plus and went to Norton Grammar. I was also lucky enough to be decent at sports and captained the rugby and cricket teams throughout my education there. Despite this, I loved football and we did not have a team.

I was only ten years old, but I decided I would set up my own football league instead, so I could carry on playing. I contacted lads I knew in the area to set up their own teams. From memory there was Orchard Avenue, Hillside Avenue, Westfield, Chilcompton and Stratton-on-the-Fosse.

I think it was Orchard Avenue’s pitch that had a roundabout that intruded into the playing area.

Hillside had a nice pitch behind a row of houses. Sorry if I missed anyone! Our team was named Norton Rangers and we were based at our home; Speeds in the High Street where Lidl is now occupying.

My Mum and Dad owned Speeds, the builders, and I used Mum’s Roneo machine to print out signing-on forms to hand out. For those old enough to think back that far; it used an alcohol-based fluid to pick up inks on a drum from the original document and ran it out onto each sheet of A4. The fumes were intoxicating. I think that’s why I printed 100 forms spelt ‘singing’ instead of ‘signing’ on.

We also needed to raise funds for kits. We used to run fetes at the High Street House with darts, treasure hunts, jumble sales, putting, roulette and the like. Lots of people attended as much to see the house as to buy anything.

I unilaterally decided to send off for Chelsea colours which you saw in the photo John sent in. It caused a lot of discontent, and I was soon persuaded to swap for Welton Rovers colours as per the picture I have supplied. You can see on the former photo of us in the blue kit, some very amateur looking badges that I made and persuaded Mum to sew them all on!

The nearest pitch to us was in Rackvernal Road, the Recreation Ground. We used it for a while, but it was not looked after very well. I remember getting a bus to Bath and buying some nets in the sports shop there. They soon fell apart, but I think we managed to get them to last our first season there.

As a ten-year-old, I had little control over our team, let alone the other sides. We were often short-sided and had to loan players or drag some poor child in to stand in goal. I have memories of my brother, Jonathan Wellington, and Paul Matthews, on a Saturday morning sliding down the slag heap in their best school shorts and shoes just before kick-off. It was too late to change into anything else so the two eight-year-olds risked the wrath of their mothers and carried on to play the game.

This picture shows us just before the 1968 Cup Final. We are resplendent in Welton Rovers colours. By then I had persuaded the Welton Arsenal groundsman to let us use their pitch, as it was always kept up together. Mum used to drive us all up in the work’s open-backed Toyota pick-up truck with other kids jumping in on the way.

I cannot remember the old guy’s name who let us use Welton Arsenal, but he made sure we had nets up and all was spick and span. He was great and did not ask for a penny from us kids.

Most of us went to Welton Rovers on a Saturday afternoon, buy a bottle of Vimto and sneak into the grandstand. I plucked up courage to ask Arthur Ladd, the Chairman, if we could use Welton Rovers’ ground for the Cup Final. He very kindly said yes. As an aside, he resigned from the club over an issue he had about me just five years later. I still feel bad about this!

I was convinced we would win the 1968 Cup Final and had been off to Bath again and had medals engraved for the winners. We were so confident of victory that the photo is of us at the back of Speed’s house just before we went up to Welton’s ground. I am holding the Cup which we were about to win!

We trotted up to West Clewes in our kits. When we looked across the pitch at the opposition, it contained all the best players from all the other teams. My singing-on forms had not taken effect. It was too late to call them to task and as an eleven-year-old it would not have had any effect.

We carried on and played but once they scored a goal, the massive area we all had to cover with our little legs just sapped the strength out of us. The medals I had engraved as well as the Cup I was holding went to the opposing Captain. This necessitated another trip on the bus to Bath to buy runners-up medals so at least we had something.

There is still a lot of tale-telling concerning our little Youth League. It had a happy or sad ending depending on your point of view. My single-finger typing has run out now, but I would be happy to finish the story later.

Simon Wellington

Photo – Left to right from back: Keith Penny, Sean Mudeford, Paul Caswell, Nigel Wilcox, Brian Gibbs, G. Jones, Steven Green, Robin Gibbs.

Front: J. Mudeford, Nigel Curtin, Simon Wellington, Paul Matthews, Jonathan Wellington.