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If you fancy penning an article for the site - and as long as it's topical or entertaining it will go up. Just send it to me.
Jack's Big Day Out
By John Williams
Friday, April 01, 2005
Fifty years ago this week, I was born on the Gower in Penard. I left Wales in 1971 and lived in Sheffield for five years, London for fourteen, New York for seven, Los Angeles for three and Miami for four. Now I'm back in the UK and living in Guildford. Why Surrey you might ask? Not for any good reason that springs to mind right now but more about that later.
As my fiftieth birthday approached, I wondered what I would really like to do to celebrate. My son Jackson (get it? Jack's son) who has spent his first seven years in California and Florida has become very interested in what he calls soccer and was bugging me to take him to Stamford Bridge. I kept telling him that, with a tortuous drive up to London on a Saturday, albeit only thirty miles (often a couple of hours), parking in Fulham and the most expensive footy seats in the land, that it would cost over a hundred quid. Then I thought why not take him to the Vetch for his first league game as my father did for me well over forty years ago? I would also get to visit my first stadium for the very last time and see my beloved Swans. So, I go on the Internet and check out hotels. Having two kids (the other, Rhys Owen Williams, just turned two), a B&B for the Mrs and myself on the Oystermouth Road just doesn't fly. Believe it or not, the Marriott in the Marina is not much more expensive than other Swansea hotels. One hundred and forty quid for two nights. Yikes! Hey, you're only fifty once. Why not? So I get tickets for the Macclesfield game on Good Friday mailed to me (the lady in the ticket office was very helpful, contrary to what I had been led to believe - or was that the club shop? - never mind.)
On the Thursday, I pick Jack up from school and we all drive down the M4 at high speed before the Severn Bridge tollbooths get silly. We check in, chill for a couple of hours and then take a walk through the marina and up Wind Street. What a kickass street! (as they say in the US). My wife is a New Yorker and is not easily impressed. She thought that Wind Street was the most happening strip she has seen since we moved to the UK and that includes our many visits to London and Newcastle. I was amazed at how sophisticated it all was too. I guess I've been gone a long time. That was not the Swansea I remembered but then my last visit to the Vetch was a game that we lost to Ipswich, which just about ended our hopes of winning the old First Division. That's right kids, we nearly won the whole damn lot in 1982.
Having walked around the city, we were ready for some grub. I remembered a place where my wife and I had the best lamb chops I've ever tasted in the UK. This was on a brief visit ten years ago so it was no surprise that the name and style of the restaurant had changed. It is now Eleos Brasserie. We were shown to a table by possibly the rudest man in Swansea. He and a man that I can only assume to be the manager gave us looks that would strip the paint off a door for having the audacity to bring kids into their oh-so-superior eatery. Nobody had even brought us a menu in six or seven minutes so we put on our coats and trudged out onto Kingsway leaving the sneering behind. Room service at the Marriott would have to make do. Expensive but not too bad. We all slept pretty well.
Friday morning and off to the club shop in the Quadrant Centre. Jackson gets himself a Swans shirt and shorts. I get to fork out fifty-three quid. Hey, he's my little man. One of a pair in fact. Then it's off to the Gower to show everyone the house in which I was born on Three Cliffs Drive. It was the only street there in 1955. There's progress for you. The morning was spent kicking a ball around on Oxwich beach and romping in the dunes. Man! The Gower is so beautiful. Then lunch at a very kid friendly pub in Scurlage and back to a playground in Singleton Park where I spent many a happy hour collecting conkers and playing footy when I was Jack's age. I could see Jack's excitement growing with each passing hour as the kick off loomed. Getting out of the hotel room without Rhys noticing was always going to be hard so we seized an opportunity and went down to the hotel bar to kill some time and have a few sherbets. I didn't mind the two pounds eighty for a pint of Boddies so much but two quid for a kid's size coke - scandalous! Apparently, when Rhys did notice that we'd left without him he did throw a fit, which my long suffering wife had to deal with. "You owe me bigtime" she smiled when we returned three hours later. What a gem. Don't you hate the way two-year-olds bang their heads against doors when you refuse to open them? Hmm, maybe it's just mine...
After risking death by crossing Oystermouth Road we're in an intense fast moving crowd hurtling towards the Vetch. I ask Jackson if he can keep up and he says "Sure Dad. These people are nearly as excited as I am." We make sure we get into the East Stand early as I desperately want a good seat for Jack's first game. (He had seen the USA in two internationals in Miami but that is NOT the Vetch atmosphere). The stand fills up around us. Jackson is in heaven just watching our boys warming up. Then, about ten minutes before kickoff a teenage girl who looks like she got lost on Wind Street (you know, tight pants, high heels, bare midriff) informs me that she is a season ticket holder and that our seats are reserved. I look around in disbelief. There are seats that have reserved stickers on them, but not ours. Finding two seats together is looking grim. Would this "lady" (yeah, right) really move a Dad with a seven-year-old. Sure she would. She wouldn't even give me eye contact. "F***" I yelled. Still no response. I spotted a place with two seats together and we jostled our way to them making dozens of people stand to let us through. One of the seats was broken. I took that one and made do with it. Thanks lady. Why oh why are the stand tickets not numbered. Gate 6 Block N Seat Q10. It's not exactly rocket science, is it?
Anyway, the game kicks off and the North Bank roars. Macclesfield easily create the first chance but Tipton fires tamely straight at Big Willy. Lee Thorpe is winning every long punt downfield and it is no surprise when he thumps a header into the net for the first goal. The crowd goes gaga. Jackson is beaming. A fitting first league goal. Robinson is playing some great balls in and Connor meets one with a neat finish for number two. Half time and we hustle out for a much-needed pee. Second half and we are watching from behind the Swan's goal. Monk is awesome. He reads the situation so well. Gurney is fearless, as is O'Leary. If all of our more skillful players applied themselves like Kris, we'd already be out of this division. Martinez had some great touches although from where I was sitting he seemed to bottle out of nearly every tackle. The game is played with no width and often looks like a schoolboy game with twenty players following the ball away from huge vacant areas of the pitch. Then Swansea do what they do worst. Second half, defending too deep, not pushing the opposition and almost willing them to come on down and get a goal back. Jackett deals his subs and the Swans get a grip again much to the relief of myself and nine thousand others. Trundle shows some great touches, which delight my son. Some of them frustrated the hell out of me as he does it when sometimes there is an easy, effective option. Still, you can't knock the man. It was Trundle who my son was talking about after the game and indeed ever since. The rest of the match is played out without much incident but for a horrible one on one miss by Connor and Macc's top scorer getting sent off for whacking Izzy. He was going to pop Izzy earlier and Tipton had to pull him away. Good riddance. I'm left wondering just how they are above us in the division. They looked like a clueless relegation candidate. Funny game football.
On the way back to the Marriott, Jackson looks at me and says "Dad that was the best surprise ever. You're the best dad a kid could have." It's moments like these that make the blood, sweat, tears and sacrifice all seem worthwhile. I stood and tried to remember my own father in the same situation. He sadly died when I was twenty-one.
In the morning, my wife Chris informed me that she likes Swansea enough to live there. We are looking to move away from Surrey. Stupidly expensive and some of the least friendly people I've ever come across. Chris reckoned that the people in Swansea were some of the most friendly she'd encountered and that the Gower was stunning. Since I work from home, I can live anywhere. I took the kids down to the big lock and weirs where the marina, sea and river meet, looking at Swansea as a potential home again. Great mixture of yuppy boats and crusty old working vessels. A big sign explained the development and what they have yet to build. Very impressive. Unfortunately, BNP was sprayed across the sign in large, sinister, black letters. Is this something that should worry me? Does Swansea's lack of ethnic diversity create too many racist morons? It's even whiter than Guildford and that really is saying something. Again, should I be worried about it? Perhaps some of you can reassure me that it is dying out. Sounds like that dark element is still alive and kicking (literally) down the Vetch by the number of postings complaining about it.
On the way back to the hotel through the marina, a women in an open top Boxster made me wait on the curb of a side street with two kids while she sneered her way past. Oh well, I guess it's bringing money into the city which is good for all of us, isn't it? Maybe not all.
So there you have it. I think Jack is now a true Jack. We might both have season tickets in the new stadium next season. He's not especially delighted by having to start learning Welsh a few years behind the other kids. It's OK, it didn't kill me. Never thought I'd be back home. Life has many twists and turns, eh?
Oh no! Rhys has just learned to open the office door. Really is time to move before he messes with all the computers, tools and other deathtraps.
One more thing. My only other reservation about moving back is whether I can send and receive parcels from New York for the following day delivery. Most of my business is still in the US and I don't want to inconvenience my customers. Perhaps someone can fill me in.
Thanks for reading.
John Williams AKA Johnbrit.
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