Subbuteo

A crisp cold Christmas morning, we were 7 and 6, we opened the lounge door and spied the tree and twinkling lights, the mass of presents and our first Subbuteo set circa. 1970ish, keepers with metal rods, brown ball, Reds v's Blue set out on the carpet, WOW!!

I went out a few days later and bought a West Ham team and so began the love affair with the finest footy game ever created. A month or so later, players were decidely shorter after being Airfix glued several times, the fault of playing on the carpet floor and clumsy knees crunching centre forwards. Mind you, we'd glue or plastecine the goal keeper to the end of the metal rod or see him marooned more than once outside the six yard box as a flicked shot came in. When I left home I found my mother had given all the many teams, stadia and pitches I'd amassed in 13 years away to the Church Christmas fair. Perhaps my loss was another kid's gain and they'll enjoy it as much as I did.

And the No.1 arguement was? How to flick. No nudging aloud. Perhaps in the ensuing fights with my brother that's how so many players were crocked.