The Rec'

The Rec'

The Rec' was a muddy football pitch, replete with cowpats and broken bottles; later to have the addition of a swing, that was where we hung out as kids.

It was the place I learned to french kiss with Julie Garton; the scene of my first proper appearance in a football team (managed, unfeasibly, by Neil Warnock) - in short, legendary. But legendary maybe for one particular reason.

All the good fights happened at the Rec'.

To explain why, you need to know a little more about the politics of living where I lived in the 70s.

You may have read about school bully Vaughny and his dynasty in other posts. But before Vaughny there were other contenders.

Neil Beever for one.

Bee - and later his neanderthal brother Ian - were part of a triad of loosely-related fiefdoms that ruled where we lived in the 70s.

It was like South Central Los Angeles in industrial England: to the south was Barber Close, in which Vaughny and his brother Dave lived. To the east, in 60s regeneration 2up2downland, was Beever territory. But to the north, in the old houses by the church, was the even more imposing hegemony of the Rattenburys, Neil and Alan.

For me the great fights of the 70s - Rumble In The Jungle Ali vs Forman; Ali vs Frazier in the Thrilla In Manilla - were matched, nay surpassed, by the battles taking place in my own home town.

Because when there was a fight, everything stopped. Word would go round in advance, like social networking nowadays, and any kid worth his salt would arrive at the 'Rec to see the latest spectacle.

I remember one particular battle between Vaughny and Bee. We were playing football - as we did every day after school, until it got dark, day in, day out - and often there would be some niggle between one person and another that would lead to fisticuffs.

But this was different.

Bee vs Vaughny was a grudge match trailed in advance. Vaughny's hegemony was in full swing - he was smart, attractive, hard, and clever. And Bee wasn't. He was barely able to express himself in the English language. And Vaughny had humiliated him with some taunt or other about how thick he (actually) was. And he was Einstein compared to his brother.

It was like Ali vs Frazier. Don King was probably there to promote it.

So we probably played football for 3 or 4 hours that night, and only at the end of the game did the real action start. There was no spontanaeity to it - everyone knew there was going to be a fight - but at the end of the game, so it seemed, the number of kids on the 'Rec grew by about a million percent.

I think the fight lasted about an hour. It was a truly spectacular event, in which each man fought the other to a standstill: cheered on, so it seemed, by hundreds of thousands of people.

Try as he may, Vaughny could never quite break Bee down. He tried everything - gauging, kicks to the bollocks, hitting him with tree branches - and still Bee would not go down. People came and went; bought ice creams and drinks; went home and had their teas and watched Magpie on telly; did their homework - yet Vaughny and Bee fought on.

Eventually, everyone got bored and it got dark and the fight just stopped. But Vaughny and Bee had gained a new respect for each other. From that point, two tribes melted into one, and the Vaughan/Beever alliance briefly threatened total domination. Hoppy (see Hoppy and Vincey) hitched a ride at this point.

But they still could not compete with the Rattenburys.

The Rattenburys were royalty: Vaughan and Beever merely new money. The Rattenburys' right to the title of hardest in the town went back to the days of the Domesday Book.

And it too had its defining moment.

The fight of all fights had happened a few weeks before, by the tree-swing from which you could enter the 'Rec across a small stream by the main road:

Neil Rattenbury vs his own brother Alan.

I had befriended Alan, who was at least 4 years older than me and in the 5th year (Year 11 to you modern people) at school when I was in the first year - year 7 nowadays. (By the way, what exactly IS year 7 or 11? You went to juniors until year 4 and then you started again in year 1 at secondary. Bollocks to all the rest. New age shit.)

Anyway, I think Alan indulged me because I was younger and so I became his second in the fight against Neil. We walked down together to the fight, and I remember an immense sense of pride that I was in Alan's corner. I felt good. Vaughny, Bee et al were metaphorically in the front row, checking out the opposition.

The fight was short and brutal. Alan won, memorably, by ripping his own brother's eyebrow off.

The 'Rec's reputation as a legendary venue was secure; and I was, briefly, the centre of the universe.

Alan Rattenbury went on to a life of being a butcher or something.

Somewhere in a womb, Mike Tyson was watching and taking notes.