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  • The Red Read Robin

An alien abroad


It was the day of the Rugby League Challenge Cup Final. Hull Kingston Rovers versus Hull, May 3 1980. What turned out to be one of the most iconic finals and one I desperately wanted to see at Wembley Stadium but I couldn’t be there.


Two years earlier I had married a soldier and we were posted to West Germany as it was known then. West and East Germany unified after the Berlin Wall came down in 1989.

We had been allocated a lovely hiring – an apartment in a small, private block the British Army hired from the German landlord – in a very smart, quiet area of the village. We were some way from the main married quarters and other British folks.


As a lifelong Hull Kingston Rovers fan making it to Wembley was something I’d dreamed of so when I heard they had made it to the final by a semi-final win 20-7 against Halifax, played at Headingly, Leeds. I was thrilled and started looking into getting tickets and going back to the UK.


The Army had other ideas. My husband, Ray, was sent on an exercise and was due home the day after the game. He was a private at the time and I worked as a classroom assistant at the army camp’s school. We had very little spare money and the high cost of travel meant I couldn’t make the journey. I was devastated.


My mum and dad, also very keen fans, were going. They promised to write to me with all their memories of the day and reports from the press. After every game mum sent me cuttings from local newspapers, including the Sports Mail, so I was up to date with all the news and matches. They travelled from Hull on one of the many coaches filled with Rovers and Hull fans making their way to Wembley.


On the game day my stomach was in knots. I prepared for the game as best I could. Spending lots of time, I festooned the lounge with my many Rovers scarves and bobble hats, as well as the bobble-less ones. My entire collection of red and white teddies had pride of place on the sofa, sat on cushions and looked ready to be mascots. All of my club mugs that were usually kept in the kitchen cupboard were placed strategically on the coffee table even though I would need to use just one. I wore as much red and white as I could find in my wardrobe.


I felt so tense that I had to keep myself busy. In the morning I cleaned the already clean flat from top to bottom. Vacuuming, mopping and dusting. As I did so I was thinking of my parents travelling down to London and worried about them having to share a coach with ‘the enemy’ – the black and whites. I imagined arguments and bad feeling between the two sets of fans. Some families in the city wouldn’t speak to each other if they supported the opposition. A tale going around was of Hull fans not eating bacon because it was red and white made me chuckle. How must they feel knowing their own blood was red?


The day seemed to last forever but finally it was time for the kick-off.


We could only get British Forces Broadcasting Service (BFBS) radio as their TV hadn’t reached our remote location. On Saturday afternoons the BBC Radio Two sports programme was patched through so we did get the opportunity to listen to the main sports. As usual rugby league wasn’t given priority so only intermittent short updates were given through the game. Horse racing was featured that day.


The singing of the hymn Abide with me and the national anthem were broadcast live until kick-off. Then it went to the occasional updates. Each time a report was on the radio I rushed to the music-centre speaker to listen so I didn’t miss a word. I heard the crowd cheering and chanting and wished I was there. When Rovers scored I jumped up and down and did a couple of circuits of the living room. I was pleased the downstairs neighbours were away for the weekend. Sitting down wasn’t an option – it was a good thing we had solid wood flooring as a carpet would have been worn out with all the pacing I did.


At full-time the result was given. I could hardly believe Hull Kingston Rovers had won 10-5. The report of how the game unfolded was broadcast live followed by commentary of the presentation of the cup by the Queen Mother to the very proud captain, Roger Millward. The cheers of the fans louder each time the trophy was passed to each player in turn.


I shared the excitement the fans at Wembley must be feeling. Tears streamed down my face. I would have loved to have been able to tell someone about it but the German neighbours wouldn’t have known what I was talking about – it would have been lost in translation.


The isolation I felt was awful. My beloved Hull Kingston Rovers had won the Challenge Cup and I couldn’t even run to the telephone box to ring family or friends in the UK because they were all at the game, as were most of the residents of the city of Kingston upon Hull. That was a very low moment as although I was ecstatic with the result I felt so alone in a foreign country.


I had to wait until the next day to ring my mum and dad. I went on my bike to the nearest payphone about two blocks away. It was Sunday morning and the locals were still indoors or on their way to church so there was hardly any traffic and not many people around. Those who were out and about must have thought I was a little bit crazy. I was wearing two of my Rovers scarves, red tee-shirt and white shorts. Quite odd I suppose when it was already twenty degrees centigrade at 9am.


The payphones seemed to eat money when phoning the UK so I was prepared and armed with lots of West German currency coins, Deutsche marks and pfennigs, to make the call to the UK. My parents had been waiting for me to ring and despite their long day and late night were up early and still very excited.


“It was fantastic, Karen. You missed a great day” mum said.

“I know it was great, Mum but you don’t have to state the obvious. Just tell me all about it.”


I heard dad in the background, his voice croaky from all the cheering he’d done the day before, singing Red, Red Robin and When the reds go marching in and chanting Come on Rovers until mum told him to rest his voice.


“Fans travelled in cars, trains, buses and loads of coaches going from Hull. It seemed like the whole of Hull was on the way to Wembley! We saw a sign at the side of the road just as we came out of town. It said ‘Last one out turn the lights off’.


“Our coach was full and a good mix of red and whites and black and whites. We had some good banter but everyone got on really well. The Hull fans were very quiet on the way home though and didn’t sing Old Faithful once!


“Walking down Wembley Way was amazing! Seeing the twin towers in front of us was great. We had our photo taken there – I’ll send you a copy when we get the film developed.


“It was such a special atmosphere and seemed as if there were fans from every Rugby League club. They were wearing their club’s shirts and scarves, singing and cheering and with light-hearted banter when they saw fans from rival clubs.


“Someone said there was over 90,000 inside the stadium. We had a smashing view of the pitch and were with the Rovers’ fans. I cried during Abide with me and couldn’t sing – your dad made up for it though. When the teams came out everyone went mad! Flags and scarves waving and everyone the cheering. Oh Karen, it’s such a shame you missed it!”


The money had started to run out and I put more in. It was like feeding a one armed bandit. Some of it came straight back out again and seeing the seconds counting down to the end of call I had panicked that we would be cut off before I heard anything about the actual game.


“If I can’t get any more money in I’ll ring back later.” I said.


Finally, enough coins were accepted and the call continued with mum hardly stopping for breath.


“I cried again when we sang the national anthem” she said. “The referee blew the whistle and the teams kicked off. It was awful when Roger (Millward) was injured. We thought he was going to go off. He took a right wallop from that dirty player Wileman who tackled him well after he’d passed the ball.”


I heard dad singing again.


There’s only one Roger Millward, one Roger Millward.”


Roger had broken his jaw but continued to play through to the final whistle, directing play and even scoring a drop goal. His skill and perception of the game was second to none and had he gone off it could have been a different outcome.


“It was so exciting when Stevie Hubbard scored that great try! He got nine of the points himself. He was stretchered off a few minutes before the end of the second half, with a broken leg I think. He managed to go up to get his winner’s medal and didn’t even use crutches.” Mum said.


“I was listening to it on the radio” I said. “It all sounded fantastic but I was really nervous. Oh I’ve missed a chance of a lifetime.”


Just before the last of my money ran out dad came on and told me how the coach driver had let them off on the main road rather than take them all the way to the bus station in town. It was after midnight and they had to walk about half a mile home. They didn’t mind, as even though they had had a very early start that day and travelled all the way from London, the adrenaline was still flowing. They happily waved their scarves and sang Red, Red, Robin all the way as they walked down the deserted road. Oblivious of anyone they may have woken up in the houses as they passed by.


When Ray arrived home from the exercise he stood at the door looking like he’d been pulled through a hedge backwards, which he had. His face was covered in camouflage cream, his combat uniform and Bergen rucksack were covered in mud and he smelled like the damp forest he’d been camping in. He dropped the Bergen in the hallway. I didn’t give him chance to close the door before I yelled out.


Rovers won! They beat Hull! 10-5, they were brilliant. Roger and Steve were injured but WE WON!”


“Oh right. You’ve missed me then.” Ray said.


As a football fan from Sheffield he understood some of the emotion I felt that my team had beaten their city rivals

“Of course I’ve missed you but it’s fantastic that they won. I wish I’d been there to see it.” I said.


Mum and dad kept their promise and sent me lots of newspaper cuttings I received about a week after the game. I read and re-read the articles, absorbing every word.

A couple of weeks later a cassette tape arrived through the post. My Mum had recorded a Radio Humberside broadcast of the game and the civic reception given to the team by the local council. It was great to be able to listen and gave me a better flavour of the day. The sound of the crowd of Rovers fans cheering in Queen Victoria Square as they welcomed their heroes was amazing. When Roger Millward held up the cup the crowd went wild. One by one the players were introduced on the balcony of the City Hall and received rapturous cheers and applause.


The result gave the fans even more pride in their team.


A few weeks later in the local NAAFI (the Navy, Army, Air Force Institutes provide canteens, shops and bars for serving personnel around the world) I chatted to someone at the checkout who I knew followed rugby league. We spoke about the game in general and then about the cup final. When she admitted she was a fan of Hull I enjoyed mentioning the 10-5 result a few times.


For me, not experiencing ‘that game’ first hand has always been a missed opportunity but hopefully I will get another chance to see the mighty Hull Kingston Rovers return to Wembley and bring the Challenge Cup back to Craven Park where it belongs.


KAREN SHEPHERD

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