Northampton Saints
The Tacklebag
By Jazzman
July 29 2010
The first in an occasional series of musings and reminiscences about sporting events thorough Jazzman's life.Tonight - 15 minutes of fame
Quite often, with a glass of something mildly alcoholic next to me, I muse on the, at the time, little things that shape and alter our lives to a greater or lesser degree. I am a great believer in the No.42 bus syndrome, ‘It will either bring you the love of your life, or it will run you over'.
Many years ago in my teens I had my first job and after getting used to not having 6/7 weeks off in the summer I was looking forward to a week away in Great Yarmouth with a couple of friends, boozing, chatting the girls, real fish ‘n chips, etc. We duly arrived and as was the vagaries of youth then we had not made any arrangements for anywhere to stay. No problem we thought, we will look tomorrow. So after a night on the booze we headed up Caistor way and parked on a grass verge for the night. Three lads in an A35 after a night out! I still shudder at the memories. Anyway come ‘sparrowfart' we decide that a visit to the public loos for a wash and brush up is in order. Watch out you Ladies of Yarmouth!
We drive off the verge and promptly rip the bottom out of the petrol tank! After purchasing a new tank and various other adventures we have to cut short the holiday and return home, finances seriously depleted and hopefully leaving disappointed Ladies behind?.
What to do with the rest of the week's holiday, that isn't too expensive?
‘How about a game of golf?' says on of my pals.
Golf to me had always seemed a bit of an old man's game to me. As a teenager I had played rugby (badly) and had tried my hand at judo (quite successfully) but golf?
Next day we went to Wicksteed Park ....and I was smitten!!!!
Over the next 30 years or so I had some modicum of success, a few trophies, County honours (once) a low handicap of 4 and I met and made some great and lasting friendships...which takes me to the crux of this tale.
Part of my day job was to monitor my firm's fleet of vehicles to make sure that they were serviced, taxed etc. Also to arrange their onward sale when the time came. We dealt with a few of the second-hand car trade's characters. One who always gave us the best prices contacted me one day and said,
‘How do you fancy a 2+2 ‘E' Type Jaguar?'
‘Obviously yes', I replied, ‘but way out of my price range.'
‘Not so,' came the reply, ‘you can have it for what I paid for as a favour for the deals we have done in the past.'
So, within a few days I am the proud owner of a canary yellow 2+2 ‘E' type, registration K--- ---. ‘What you need is a personal number plate for it' says my friend from the used car lot, ‘I have a few mopeds with numbers on if you want to choose one?'....er right, is this legal?
I look through his ‘collection' and one stands out, uniting my sporting interest and looking good on an ‘E' Type.
The number? ...........PUT 3
After a year or so, the attractions of a 12 cylinder (?) 4.2 litre (?) bright yellow fuel guzzling car waned and I decided to sell it.
An advert in the Sunday Times car section yielded no responses over it's first two weeks, but on the third week (buy 2 get 3rd free) a result!
I was living away from home and did not as yet have a telephone and had put my parent's number as the contact in the advert. My Dad rang me at work and said,
‘You had a call last night about the car, can you come round tonight and the Lady will ring about 6pm?'
‘Sure', I said, ‘what is her name?'
‘Alice', said Dad.
‘Alice what?'
‘She didn't say'.
Heigh ho, parents, I thought.
At 6pm ensconced at parents the phone rings at it is the mysterious ‘Alice'.
‘My husband is abroad at the moment and is very interested in your car and asks if you could not sell it, before he gets back at the weekend and he can have a chance to talk to you', she said.
Well as there was no queue of prospective buyers, I agreed.
‘I have your Christian name', I said ‘but what is your surname?'
‘Alice' she said.
Alice Alice? I thought some parents really have no idea in naming their kids or she should have considered marrying someone else!
Then the bombshell landed when she said, ‘My husband is Peter Alliss, and perhaps you have heard of him, he plays golf!'
Mouth agape, I stare and the phone and babble my agreement.
(an aside here, for those unaware Peter Alliss had had moderate success as a golf professional, but due to a bad case of the' yips' on the greens had stopped competing and was just starting his career in broadcasting. PUT 3 would be a great ‘tongue in cheek' way of advertising his lack of prowess on the greens.)
Intermission
Did you know... the American golfer Ben Hogan was once asked what the easiest shot in golf was... ‘The 4th putt,' he replied. Geddit?
One for the non golfers..the same Ben Hogan was renowned as being anti social and a forerunner of today's grumpy Old Men. He was rumoured to like watching ‘blue' movies, but liked playing them backwards, because he liked to see people put on their clothes and leave!
But I digress...
Fast-forward a few days and a rendezvous is arranged at the Trowell Service Station.‘How will I know you? Says Peter Alliss on the phone the day before we met.
‘Well', says I, ‘I will be driving an unusually coloured flash car... and anyway I will recognise you!'We meet, deal done £2750 exchanges hands (a cool profit of £850 for me!) But oh what would either the number plate or the car be worth now?
Fast forward 5 or so years, and I and the then wife are standing in the beer tent at the Ryder Cup at Muirfield when the rope keeping the ‘riffraff' away from the ‘toffs' is removed and Peter Alliss calls us over to share a bottle or two of the Champagne regions finest. He had recognised us after one meeting many years before!
Fast forward another 7/8 years and being between wives (a frightening thought) I am at St Melion in Cornwall with a friend watching a golf tournament. Who should I see on the Saturday morning, standing outside the BBC's caravan, but Mr. Alliss.
I walk up behind him and say...
‘'How is that number plate?'
Without turning round he says,' Clive. You old b*gg*r, good to see you.'
Again he knew me, I am useless at remembering names and as to recognising people, I have problems when I look in the mirror each morning.
We have kept in touch over the years and PUT 3 has graced the front and rears of many an expensive car, I am sure.
Perhaps, this was my Andy Warhol 15 minutes of fame or my No.42 bus moment, but I often wonder what would life have been like if we had parked in a lay by, rather than a grass verge all those years ago?
(I gave up serious golf a few years ago, because I didn't want to be bad at something, I used to be good at... I suppose that is why we stopped at only one child?)
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Stumbleupon29/07/2010 21:59
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Very, very good, Clive. 
I liked the "I am useless at remembering names and as to recognising people, I have problems when I look in the mirror each morning."
Oh... and I found this lurking around the Internet..
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 2010:07:30:08:17:53 by StBleach.
Photo Gallery
Actually I did forward to the editors a black and white picture of myself, the car and Mr.Alliss at Trowell Services.
They obviously thought, they couldn't publish it because:-
a) It would frighten the kids.
b) The Ladies would get too excited.
c) The slim guy wasn't me
or more than likely
d) It was too grainy and faded....but like me I suppose.
in now!
David L
What if there were no hypothetical questions?
- Live wrong and preposterously
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