For a small football club on the way up there are two basic dreams – to reach the top flight, and on the way there cut down top flight clubs in cup competitions, initially in the FA Cup, and since 1960 in the Football League Cup as well.

New Brompton’s FA cup fighting pedigree was commendable. From a 6-3 humbling at Ilford in the very first tie played by the club in 1893 they first battled through into the round of the last 32 in 1899, losing 1-0 to Southern League leaders Southampton. In the next nine years they made it to the later rounds on five occasions, and it could only be a matter of time before Brompton would meet, and hopefully beat, a top flight club.

The first cup clash with a First Division side occurred in February 1907, when Brompton travelled to Bury to face the 1903 FA Cup winners. They narrowly lost 1-0 to a late goal. But the following season, in January 1908, the golden moment came (see Part 6) when in front of Priestfield’s then biggest crowd a Charlie McGibbon hat-trick sank First Division Sunderland. After just fifteen years, “New Brompton – Cup Fighters and Giant Killers” were on the map.

An incredible eighty-eight years later that 3-1 win remained the club’s only triumph against top flight opposition. Obviously there were no league victories because the club has yet to play in the top flight, but in the FA Cup, and later the Football League Cup, it was one long liturgy of broken dreams. Before the First World War First Division Manchester City ended the 1907/8 FA Cup campaign, then came defeat by season’s winners Bradford City in 1911 and defeat at Liverpool in 1914. In the 1920’s came defeat by Oldham Athletic and Cardiff City, and then a wait of thirty-four years before a losing visit to First Division Nottingham Forest in January 1958.

The arrival of the Football League Cup in 1960 gave the Gills a greater chance of being paired with a top flight club, and a more regular pattern of disappointment. Between 1960 and 1996 the role of top flight clubs that Gillingham faced in one of the two cup competitions reads:-

Preston North End, Nottingham Forest again, Leicester City, Blackpool, Arsenal, Newcastle United, Norwich City, West Bromwich Albion, Tottenham Hotspur, Everton, Ipswich Town, Oxford United, Millwall, Southampton and Sheffield Wednesday.

Twenty-one clubs from the top flight who, over a period of eighty-eight years, had been taken on and not one of them had been beaten. Had any Football League club got a worse record? And would there ever again be a living Gills fan who could say that they had seen victory over what were now Premiership clubs?

The Football League (Coca-Cola) Cup campaign of 1996/97 began in subdued fashion. Recently promoted Gillingham were anxious to establish themselves back in the third tier and the two-legged first round tie with recently relegated Swansea City didn’t stir the blood. Gills won the first leg at Vetch Field 1-0 with an own goal, and followed that up with a 2-0 win at Priestfield in front of 3,633 fans. Leo Fortune-West and Steve Butler got the goals.

The reward was a second round tie with First Division Barnsley. Barnsley were going well, but this wasn’t the money-spinning tie that was hoped for. A crowd of only 4,491 showed up at Oakwell for the first leg, but they saw Gills put in a tremendous performance and take the lead with a blistering Simon Ratcliffe strike. The visitors then came under heavy pressure, and conceded an equaliser near the end when Iffy Onuora put through his own goal trying to clear.

The second leg at Priestfield, played in front of a more healthy 5,666, was a cat and mouse affair. Manager Tony Pulis had done his homework on Barnsley, and sent out a defensive web that frustrated them for ninety minutes. Into extra time and the Gills’ away goal would prove decisive if the game was still goalless at the finish. It wasn’t needed. Seven minutes in and Andy Hessenthaler’s through ball fed winger David Puttnam. He raced on from just inside the Barnsley half, drew the keeper and hit the ball across him into the corner. The Gills had won 1-0, 2-1 on aggregate, and were through to the Third Round for the first time in 14 years – where for the twenty-second time in eighty-eight years they were to play a top flight club.

Premiership Coventry City might not have won too much, but they had hung in there for nearly thirty years. Only Arsenal, Liverpool and Everton had longer unbroken spells at the top. Managed in 1996/97 by “Big Ron” Atkinson, City were at this point struggling near the bottom of the table. The Gills had a score to settle with Atkinson dating back to an infamous game at Oxford in November 1963 and a double of breaking the eighty-eight years of hurt and getting him the sack would have been quite superb. An official all-ticket crowd of 10,603 crammed into Priestfield on Tuesday night October 22nd, causing the kick-off to be delayed for fifteen minutes.

In the first half the flow of the game was somewhat predictable. Gills pressed hard in the first fifteen minutes, but didn’t trouble the Premiership club too much. Then the visitors turned on the style, and Paul Telfer scored twice within three minutes on the half hour. It could have got worse. Jim Stannard made great saves from Noel Whelan and Gary McAllister.

Somewhat chastened the Gills regrouped at half-time and came out with all guns blazing. Coventry began to wilt as wave after attacking wave swept down upon them in front of a heaving Rainham End. After several chances were beaten away, Dennis Bailey wriggled clear down the right and crossed to the far post where Iffy Onuora’s header beat Steve Ogrizovic and found the net.

The Premiership side were going to have to go flat out to win this now. They had little answer to the all-action style of Gills’ captain Andy Hessenthaler and with fifteen minutes to go he set up a chance for Simon Ratcliffe. The midfielder hit the ball just right. It left his foot like a shell and on its thirty yard journey it was no more than eighteen inches off of the ground. Ogrizovic never got near it as he was totally beaten by pace and power. 2-2.

“Take that Fat Ron!”

The replay at Highfield Road did not take place until three weeks later, on Wednesday November 13th. Scores of coaches ferried 3,000 fans up to the West Midlands, to provide a huge presence in a crowd of 12,639. Despite avoiding defeat at Priestfield Atkinson hadn’t survived. He had been booted upstairs to become Director Of Football, to make way for Gordon Strachan’s appointment as player-manager. This game was Strachan’s first in charge.

Out team was:-

(3-4-2-1) Jim Stannard; Richard Green, Matt Bryant, Mark Harris; Neil Smith, Simon Ratcliffe, Andy Hessenthaler (Capt.), Craig Armstrong; Iffy Onuora, Dennis Bailey: Steve Butler.

The Gills were on the back foot for the first fifteen minutes, and the assembled multitudes from Fleet Street were sharpening their pencils to write “Sky Blues On The Up” and “Strach Takes Them Back” stories. But Gillingham ruined the plot. After Jim Stannard had made a couple of good saves the team realised they had nothing to fear and for the rest of the first half mixed it toe to toe with their Premiership opponents. Mightily backed by the 3,000 travelling fans Iffy Onuora and Andy Hessenthaler tested Ogrizovic with strong shots after decent build-ups. At half-time Gillingham were in with more than just a shout.

It got better. Coventry’s anticipated second half steamroller just didn’t materialise and Gillingham’s confidence grew by the minute. Fans rubbed their eyes in disbelief as Gillingham took a stranglehold on midfield. Coventry were wilting, and serious chances were coming Gills’ way. After sixty-one minutes Simon Ratcliffe’s low shot brought a sprawling save from Ogrizovic.

And then, after seventy one minutes, the Premiership defence failed to cut out Steve Butler’s low cross from the left-wing. Neil Smith was unmarked, with an unprotected net in front of him. Time seemingly stood still as he steadied himself and drilled the ball sweetly between the posts. Goal! 1-0 to the Gills – and with nineteen minutes to go this particular group of Gills players stood on the cusp of history.

Eighty-eight years of hurt didn’t stop us believing – that Gillingham could still blow it. They’d been in this position a few times, perhaps not quite as close as this admittedly, but it had all gone pear-shaped. But somehow that feeling never really took hold. The Gills were playing magnificently, and it was the Premiership giants who were crumbling before our eyes.

Showing desperation Gordon Strachan brought himself on to try and carve an opening for his side. But as Coventry pushed forward leaving gaps at the back, Gillingham defended like tigers and looked lethal on the counter. After eighty-two minutes Steve Butler again broke through on the left and centred low for Iffy Onuora. Rather than shoot Iffy laid the ball on to Dennis Bailey unmarked on the right. Here surely was the sealing moment, but Dennis lifted his shot too high. It grazed the bar and went over.

Memories of Tony Cascarino v Everton came flooding back (see Part 51). Could Coventry still escape in the last desperate moments? No. Quite simply they were finished, and this group of Gillingham players moved serenely to their place in history. Eighty-eight years of hurt made this the sweetest of victories.

“You too Mister Mumble”

The following morning’s newspapers made delicious reading. So many times Gills fans had seen other clubs from the lower divisions getting the cup limelight. Now it was finally our turn. Some papers majored on Coventry’s and Strachan’s demise with “Oh Gord” and “Gord Help Us” but most gave wide coverage to jubilant pictures of Neil Smith, Steve Butler, Jim Stannard and the rest, and universal praise to the team’s performance. This was no fluke, this was a thoroughly deserved win.

Somewhat lost in the celebrations was the fact that Gillingham had reached the fourth round of the League Cup for first time since 1963/64, and for only the second time in the club’s history. A trip to Portman Road to play First Division Ipswich Town awaited, to be played on Tuesday 26th November. The game had the most bizarre of build-ups. Central defender Matt Bryant shot himself, and central defender Glen Thomas was injured by a tree. For Matt, manager Tony Pulis explained “He is a lover of field sports and was out with family and friends when a gun accidently went off and peppered his leg with shot.” Glen fell awkwardly during training and a tree branch nearly blinded him in one eye.

Well over 4,000 fans followed the Gills to Portman Road to swell the crowd to 13,537 and they saw the team give another tremendous performance. Gills were on the attack for long periods but Ipswich were very well drilled defensively and managed to see off everything that was thrown at them. They were dangerous on the counter-attack, and from one such move twenty minutes from time Richard Naylor volleyed the only goal of the game.

The Gills were out of the Football League Cup for 1996/97, but much more significantly their frustrating run of not being able to beat a top flight club was finally at an end. Eighty-eight years of hurt didn’t stop us believing that one day – which turned out be a lucky 13th one – it would happen. Coventry City 1996 joined Sunderland 1908. Since that time other Premiership clubs have been vanquished – Bradford City and Sheffield Wednesday in 2000, Charlton Athletic in 2004 and Portsmouth in 2005. Hopefully the next one added will be before 2093.

On only five occasions in their history have the Gills entered the FA Cup at the “big boys” stage, as one of the final 44 clubs. Otherwise it’s been entry at the First Round stage (or in our early days one of the Qualifying Round stages) to face two or more rounds of cut-throat battle before emerging as one of the twenty clubs to join the “big boys” in the round of the final 64, played in the New Year.

Banana skins abound in this cut-throat world as clubs from the lower leagues are forced to take on ambitious non-league outfits, and there can few Football League clubs who do not bear scars across their backs from lashings they have taken at non-league hands. For Gillingham, by 1957 the names of Blyth Spartans, Margate, and Walthamstow Avenue were burnt into memory, and since that time the names of Folkestone, Maidstone, Welling and Burscough have been added. Would “Gorleston” join the role of shame?

Gorleston. Who were they? No-one was quite sure when that pairing came out of the hat, but a careful examination of AA books revealed that Gorleston was a suburb of Great Yarmouth in Norfolk. They were going well in the Eastern Counties League and had battled through from the Second Qualifying Round, winning a fierce local derby against Great Yarmouth Town 3-2 along the way.

Inevitably the talk about banana-skins gathered pace. Seeing as Gills were within a minute of losing to Yiewsley in the First Round the previous season (1956/57) no-one was that confident. Certainly The Gorleston Gazette was upbeat. “Gorleston have quite a good defence and their forwards, if not up to the defence, are liable to do the unexpected with that quick breakthrough. We think Gorleston will give Gillingham a run, and the League side can’t afford to give them too much encouragement”.

But the Norfolk side suffered a blow when both their goalkeepers were unavailable through injury. They called up sixteen year old Stanley Evans to man the fort, and despite the fate that befell him, Evans earned rave reviews from all sides. Said the Gorleston Gazette “Evans was anything but easy to beat and earned the tributes of both players and spectators alike.”

The Gills side that faced him that day, in front of a Priestfield crowd of 8,123, was:-

(Traditional 2-3-5) Chic Brodie; Bill Parry, Jack Hannaway; Les Riggs, Jimmy Boswell (Capt), Davie Laing; Brian Payne, Jimmy Fletcher, Ron Saunders, Wendall Morgan, Ron Clark.

After fifteen minutes of cat and mouse football, the first chance presented itself, and Gills’ captain Jimmy Boswell needed a full-blooded sliding tackle to stop Gorleston’s centre-forward Simpson from bursting through on goal. That woke the Gills up, and they quickly roared up to the Gillingham End and scored two in a minute – the old one-two by Saunders and Fletcher. Gills were now up for it, and it looked like they’d sealed a comfortable win when Ron Saunders scored again after 39 minutes to make it 3-0 at half-time. Ron should have had a hat-trick by then too, but he’d blasted a penalty wide after Wendall Morgan had been brought down.

In the second half the Gills ran riot. No-one was really prepared for what came next as Gorleston were totally swamped by a twenty minute barrage. They had no answer to the brilliant build-up play of Wendall Morgan, who had one of his best games for Gillingham, or Les Riggs’ lethal throw-ins which he effortlessly launched from the touchline deep into the goalmouth. And if that wasn’t enough to cope with there was Ron Saunders at his unstoppable best. Ron made it 4-0 after 52 minutes when he completed his hat-trick, and then left-winger Ron Clark made it 5-0 after 55 minutes. Wendall Morgan finished off a mazy run with a shot after 70 minutes to get the goal that he throughly deserved.

At 6-0 Gills now looked to be easing down, and Gorleston put together some attacks of their own. But the visitors pushed their luck a bit by scoring. It came after 77 minutes, and was a neat move through the home defence for Sells to sidefoot past Brodie. It bought one of the biggest cheers of the afternoon, but it must have riled Saunders and Co, as in the last ten minutes they smashed in another four. Ron Clark (80) made it 7-1, a couple of solo efforts from Ron Saunders (82 and 85) brought his personal tally to five, and Jimmy Fletcher (88) brought the final score to 10-1. And it could have been more. Sixteen year old Stanley Evans pulled off some incredible saves along the way, and kept his very best ones for right winger Brian Payne, the only Gills forward not to score. It is not often that a keeper who has let in ten gets a standing ovation as he leaves the field at the end, but it happened on this occasion.

8,000 deliriously happy Gills fans weren’t quite sure where that performance had come from. Gills only scored 33 goals at Priestfield that season in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid the cut and started 1958/59 in the new Fourth Division, so ten in one match was something special. It still ranks as Gills best ever win in the FA Cup.

And how many managers get the chop after their team wins 10-1? Long-serving Archie Clark did. A week later his 18 year reign was brought to an end when he was introduced to new manager Harry Barratt – on the train going to Shrewsbury! It was a controversial decision. The directors felt that Archie, a traditional “trilby hat” manager, had run out of steam and a new approach from a new “track-suit” manager was needed. But they didn’t do it cleanly and pay Archie off, they moved him upstairs to a sort of Administration Manager job. No-one knew what the job entailed – including Archie. In the summer of 1958 he was made redundant from it as part of a cost saving exercise. The Board did have some conscience at that point and gave him six months pay (other long-serving stalwarts made redundant at the same time got just one week’s pay) but it was a shabby way to treat the man who had built the team that got us back into the League in 1950.

New team manager Harry Barratt meanwhile was unbelievable. These days he would be regarded as one of football’s great characters, but back then most people thought he had a screw loose. Recruited from managing Kent League side Snowdown Colliery, his rants about playing coal miners and six foot Texans became legendary, as did some of his off-the-wall training routines and team talks. But initially it looked as though he might have the Midas touch.

In the Second Round of the FA Cup Gills faced a tough tie at The Den. Millwall went ahead when they scored after a scandalous foul on goalkeeper Chic Brodie, but Jimmy Fletcher equalised and then in the Wednesday afternoon replay Gills went goal crazy again and thrashed the Lions 6-1. Our best ever win over them, but sadly for every Gillingham schoolboy, heard and not seen. No floodlights in those days, so the match kicked off on Wednesday afternoon at 2.00pm – and no-one dared to bunk off school to go along. Doing Latin declentions and algebra while the sounds of 8,500 Gills fans going progressively Cup crazy drift through the window is no joke.

The Gills had reached the Third Round of the Cup for the first time since 1948 (see Part 19), and with a goal difference of 17-3 were tipped by many to cause an upset when they visited First Division Nottingham Forest. Barratt wasn’t convinced, and in an utterance that showed some kind of weird reverse psychology declared that if the team won he would jump in the Trent after the game. Would he really? Probably, but we never found out. Forest were building the side that won the Cup the following season, and although Gills gave it their best, they were comfortably beaten 2-0 with two first-half goals.

An FA Cup campaign that had started with our biggest ever win had finished in a whimper.

In 1957/58 the Football League announced its first major structural changes since 1920 and 1921 when the two Third Divisions had been introduced. The 48 clubs comprising the Third Divisions North and South were to be regrouped into a Third Division and a Fourth Division. There would be four clubs promoted and relegated between the two new divisions each season, and the four lowest clubs would need to be re-elected to the Fourth Division. From the Third Division two clubs would be promoted/relegated to the Second Division each season, to match the two clubs already being promoted/relegated between the Second Division and the First.

It meant that for small clubs like Gillingham, over time there was now a much clearer ladder into the top flight (which clubs like Northampton, Carlisle and Leyton Orient climbed) but equally for the previous giants it could mean a fall right through into the Fourth Division (suffered by the likes of Burnley, Wolverhampton and Bolton). But in 1957 all that was for the future. Initially the target was to finish in the top twelve of the Third Division North or South in 1958 and effectively be promoted.

Gillingham never made much of a fist of their try. Despite having one of our charismatic centre-forwards in Ron Saunders, who scored 18 league goals in the 1957/58 season the team never got above the nether regions, and finished 22nd. Even two goal gales in the FA Cup (see Part 26) didn’t relieve the depression for long. The directors countered by going down the traditional route of replacing the manager. In late November long-serving Archie Clark was kicked upstairs by being offered a new post of Administrative Manager (from which he was made redundant in August 1958) and replaced by Harry Barratt, manager of Snowdown Colliery. Barratt’s style was unique (like stating he would jump in the Trent if Gills beat Nottingham Forest in the FA Cup, or stating his intention to sign 11 six-foot Texans) but it didn’t deliver the Third Division place craved and for the start of the 1958/59 season Gillingham found themselves in football’s new basement.

The eleven other Third Division (South) clubs that went with them were Northampton, Crystal Palace, Port Vale, Watford, Shrewsbury, Aldershot, Coventry, Walsall, Torquay, Millwall and Exeter. In theory the idea was that with four up and four down the mix of north and south clubs in the two new divisions would stay roughly the same. It didn’t work out like that. The Southern clubs tended to be stronger and get promoted, whereas the northern clubs tended to get relegated. By 1961 there were only five clubs south of Mansfield left in the Fourth Division – Gillingham, Millwall, Colchester, Aldershot and Exeter – and even Exeter was a 400 mile round trip. The nineteen other clubs were even further away, making Gills’ travelling not only expensive but, on the steam trains of that time, long and tedious.

Escalating travel costs, and the additional potential costs of staying overnight before a game, weren’t the only budget time bomb that new Chairman Doctor Clifford Grossmark and his board were grappling with. Gates were falling. Football’s post-war boom was well and truly over. People had more money and more leisure time, and they weren’t using it for football. Biggest of all, the maximum wage had been removed in March 1961 following the threat of a players’ strike if it wasn’t. Clubs could now pay their players what they wanted. Fulham and England captain Johnny Haynes immediately became the first £100 a week footballer, and although Gillingham could nowhere near afford that sort of money they were going to have to cough something up if they were to compete for the better players.

It meant that season 1961/62 started with what became the almost standard dire warnings that football clubs would go to the wall, and it didn’t take a genius to work out that Gillingham could soon be one of them. The almost clinically depressive Doctor Grossmark saw to that. And worryingly Gills made their worst-ever start to a season. A 2-2 home draw with Doncaster Rovers was followed by nine consecutive defeats. Every few days Gillingham seemed to be tracking north to places like Crewe, Workington and Rochdale and getting a thrashing.

Something had to be done and fast, and from somewhere money was found to buy experienced centre forward Tom Johnston for Leyton Orient, and inside-forward Ronnie Waldock from Middlebrough. Together with charismatic forward Charlie Livesey, who had been signed pre-season from Chelsea, things started to improve. The record-breaking early-season slump was lifted at Priestfield with a 3-1 win over Millwall and there were two more home wins to follow against Barrow and Bradford City. By Saturday night October 7th Gills, with their three home wins and a draw, had seven points from their fourteen games, and has lifted themselves up to 22nd place. Not brilliant by any means, but a recovery had been launched.

The downside was that the seven away games had converted to seven defeats, and although a commendable eight goals had been scored, 26 had been conceded. Next up, on Monday 9th October, was an away game at Barrow.

Even today with an extensive national motorway network Barrow, on a peninsula on Lancashire’s north-west coast, is not easy to get to from north Kent. In 1961 with no M25, M1 or M6 the only realistic way was by train, and to make the 5.15pm kick-off the only Monday train that would get there was the 10.00am from Euston. Barrow were one of only a handful of clubs (Gillingham being another) who had no floodlights. The sensible way to make the trip would be to travel up on Sunday, staying somewhere overnight, and return after the game on an overnight train with sleeping accommodation.

But the club couldn’t afford all that, so the decision was made to travel up on Monday, by catching the only train available (10.00am from Euston). That might have worked had not the further decision been taken to go to Euston by coach, rather than by train to Victoria. Inevitably, the coach got stuck in morning rush-hour traffic around New Cross, and by the time it arrived at Euston around 10.20am the train had left.

The club were now in deep trouble. They faced being guilty of the cardinal sin of not turning up for a fixture. No later train would make it by kick-off, and the coach would take the best part of eight hours (assuming it had the oomph to get there, which was doubtful). A frantic phone call was made to Chairman Doctor Grossmark, who was in the middle of his morning surgery. In between dispensing aspirins and suppositories he telephoned the Football League Headquarters at Lytham St Annes asking for a postponement. It was refused.

It was now apparent that the only way that the team could make it to Barrow by 5.15pm was to fly to somewhere close-by and complete the journey by road. The coach drove to London Airport (now Heathrow) as fast as it could. However, internal flights were in their infancy. The daily flights to Manchester and Newcastle were fully booked, and although the whole team could have been accommodated on a flight to the Isle of Man, they would have had to swim across to Barrow. The only possibility was to charter an aeroplane, and land it at the closest commercial airfield, which was Blackpool.

But there were no charter planes available at London Airport. There were some at Gatwick or at Southend. Gatwick was nearer, but with no M25 that was probably a trip of well over an hour. The decision was taken to fly the chartered plane from Gatwick to London Airport, collect the team and then fly on to Blackpool – increasing the charter costs from £350 to £500. And talking of costs, the charter company weren’t going anywhere until they’d been paid. Well before the days of flashing a credit card, further frantic phone calls were made to Doctor Grossmark’s surgery for him to instruct the bankers to issue a bankers’ draft to cover the costs of the plane, insurances and warranties. Finally all was in place, and the chartered plane took off from Gatwick at 1.15pm. Four hours to Barrow seemed comfortable.

Fifteen minutes later AirGFC-1 arrived at London Airport, only for the pilot to overshoot the runway, make another pass, and then get back into the landing queue for a third time before eventually touching down at 2.00pm. But it wasn’t just everyone piling in and off we go. London Airport insisted on making safety checks on what, to them, was an unknown plane. The Football League had to be involved too. A little known legacy from the Munich Air Tragedy of 1958 was that the Football League had to give special permission whenever a league club transported its players by air. That took up more time, but eventually the players and back-room staff were airborne at 2.35pm en route to Blackpool.

AirGFC-1 was only a 25 seater single propeller and it hit turbulence around Birmingham. A number of the players had never flown before (continental package holidays were still a few years away), and they needed to make liberal use of the barff bags. With a number of passengers looking the worse for wear, AirGFC-1 landed at Blackpool’s Squires Gate airfield at 3.25pm. After the unloading formalities were completed the party were ready to make the 71 mile journey to Barrow. There were only ninety minutes to kick-off.

At this point, the club did get some support from the Football League, after what appeared to be an intransigent attitude all day. From their Headquarters down the road in Lytham they had laid on a coach ready to make the trip. But it was felt that the journey could not be completed in that time by coach, so four taxis and a police escort were preferred as being speedier. Football League Secretary Alan Hardaker had given a dispensation that kick-off could be put back to 5.30pm, and half-time cancelled, so that the game could be completed before darkness fell.

As the team raced around Morecambe Bay in their taxis and with police escort, news of these incredible goings on was filtering back to Gills’ fans. Some thought it was hilarious, some were embarrassed, and some were angry that the club could have got itself into such a position in what is a basic requirement – showing up for a game. But everyone was fearful of what the League might do about it. The rule said “The Football League have full authority in deciding whether the game is to be void, replayed or to instruct the result to stand. The Management Committee can impose a fine up to £500 and in addition inflict further penalties at their discretion.” In other words they could do as they liked – deduct points, or if we’d really jarred them off, kick us out.

As the consequences were being mulled over, the club’s embarrassment was far from over. The taxis had hit heavy traffic around Lancaster after some of the roads had become flooded following a torrential autumn downpour. The bedraggled cavalcade finally arrived at Barrow’s Holker Street ground just after 5.30pm, to the ironic cheers and claps of the local faithful. News of Gillingham’s “difficulties” had got around. It was by no means clear that the game would take place at all and so the gates had not been opened. The game eventually kicked off just after 5.45pm, 30 minutes later than originally intended and 15 minutes later than the Football League extension. There was drizzle in the air, and the light was already beginning to fade.

Our team was:
(2-3-5) Johnny Simpson; Dennis Hunt, Bill Cockburn; Leon Vaessen, Harry Hughes (Capt), Alec Farrall; John Jervis, Charlie Livesey, Tom Johnston, Bob Ridley, Gordon Pulley.

Gillingham had played Barrow at Priestfield the previous midweek and come away with a hard-fought 3-2 win. Barrow had shown that they played some neat football, but how much of what befell Gillingham was down to Barrow being a decent side and how much was due to Gill’s unique “preparation” can never be determined. All that can be said is that if the events so far that day had been bad enough, it was going to get worse.

Within two minutes Barrow were ahead. They moved the ball around from the off, inside-left Gordon Brown was unmarked, and he had no trouble putting the ball past Johnny Simpson. The 2,900 crowd loved it, and Barrow were straight away on the attack again. Simpson was being clattered about as the Barrow front trio piled in on raking centres from deep, and after ten minutes inside-right Robertson bundled in the second.

Gillingham at last started to shake off the effects of their horrendous journey and Charlie Livesey relieved the pressure with one of his trademark solo runs. But it came to nothing, Barrow were pouring forward again, and right winger John Kemp cut in and drove a cross-shot under Simpson’s dive.

3-0 with only twenty minutes gone, and Gillingham were looking lined up for a serious hammering. Fortunately Barrow eased down a little, which enabled Dennis Hunt, Harry Hughes and Alec Farrall to get some sort of grip in defence and midfield to stem the tide. Farrell’s promptings enabled Gordon Pulley in to loose off a couple of cannonballs as Gills had their best spell of the game.

So far captain Harry Hughes had kept Barrow centre-forward George Darwin quiet, but after 35 minutes he was out-jumped for a corner and the Barrow man soared a header into the net, landing on Johnny Simpson’s leg on his way back to earth. Just what Gillingham needed – an injured goalkeeper, and Johnny was hobbling badly when Darwin brushed off challenges by Hughes and Cockburn and drilled in Barrow’s fifth two minutes before half-time.

Turning half-past six and it was beginning to get quite murky. The plan was to turn straight around for the second half, but the referee allowed time while Johnny Simpson’s leg was strapped up. He stoically carried on. Regrettably, he got little cover from the defence in front of him, and was helpless as Darwin ploughed through the middle again and completed his hat-trick with a low shot. 6-0 and there were still 40 minutes left.

But daylight was rapidly fading as it started to drizzle again, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that with no floodlights the game was unlikely to finish. The referee did his best to hurry things up at dead-ball situations in an attempt to get a reasonable amount of football in, and it seemed to disturb Barrow’s rhythm. They had a noticeable bout of misplaced passes and kicking the ball into touch. Gillingham seemed to be able to see better, and carved out a superb move between Alec Farrall, Charlie Livesey and Tom Johnston to set up Bob Ridley to chip the ball over goalkeeper Caine and into the net. But a linesman thought he saw something illegal in the build-up and chalked it off.

Barrow had a small set of training lights around the pitch, and after 74 minutes the referee ordered them switched on in the hope that they would provide enough light to complete the game. They certainly helped Barrow, for in the eerie twilight they scored again when inside forward Kemp hit a shot past Johnny Simpson that he said afterwards he never saw. The training lights were having little effect as darkness closed in, and after 76 minutes the referee was forced to abandon the game with the scoreline Barrow 7, Gillingham 0.

It was Gillingham’s biggest thrashing since the 9-2 at Nottingham in 1950 (see Part 22) and it would be another 47 years before a similar scoreline was endured. But would the result stand? No Football League game had failed to be completed before, so would the League order a replay? That was a bit unfair on Barrow, and if Gillingham couldn’t afford to travel there once, could they do so again? The cumbersome arrangements of travelling by train on the day to save money had backfired badly. In the event the whole trip had cost the club over £1,000, setting aside any fines that the Football League might impose.

In the event the Football League were lenient. Two months later, on December 11th, they announced that they would take no further action against Gillingham, but the 7-0 scoreline when the game was abandoned after 76 minutes would stand. It was the first time that an uncompleted game had been ruled to be the final result. The League also said that they had considered ordering the game to be replayed, but “this would involve the visiting club further expense” – thereby acknowledging Gillingham’s embarrassment that they couldn’t afford to turn up. But if the club kept their head down, maybe their red faces wouldn’t show too much.

Certainly there were no problems returning from Barrow at the end of that fateful day. The original plans to catch the overnight train worked satisfactorily and the team arrived back in Gillingham early Tuesday morning. Almost incredibly they had to make an even longer trip four days later – to Carlisle. This time the club realised that they dare not arrive late again, so travelled to Cumbria on Friday after training. It worked. They recorded their first away win of the season, 2-1.

But if the club hoped that the Football League’s announcement on December 11th closed a humiliating and embarrassing episode they were mistaken. The very next game, on Saturday December 16th 1961, was away to Doncaster Rovers. A reasonable journey on Saturday morning on one of the numerous express trains leaving Kings Cross. Only on this particular Saturday there had been a major derailment overnight at Peterborough, and trains were being cancelled or re-routed.

The club’s planned train, due to arrive at Doncaster at 1.30pm for a 3.00pm kick-off had been cancelled. Somewhere someone pulled some strings enabling the team to travel on the earlier leaving Flying Scotsman. Normally the first stop would be Newcastle, but the express would make an unscheduled first stop at Doncaster so that the team could get off. Unfortunately the Scotsman wasn’t very flying. It was diverted through rural lines in Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire and arrived at Doncaster two hours late – at five minutes past three.

Yet again, a fleet of taxis were waiting to whisk the team to the ground. Fortunately Belle Vue was not 71 miles away but just up the road, and the game eventually kicked off just after 3.30pm. Unlike Holker Street there were floodlights, so the game was played to a finish. Gills seemed to be raring to get out of the traps, and in a brilliant first twenty minutes Ronnie Waldock put them ahead. But Donny hit back with goals either side of half-time and ran out 2-1 winners.

Gills fans had not been aware of any of this until our result became the only one missing in the Grandstand round-up. And then David Coleman delivered the hammer blow “Well, Gillingham arrived late for that match” and the rest of it was drowned in shame. Not again – surely.

The events surrounding the lateness at Doncaster were understandable, and once again the Football League invoked no penalties. But you had to ask if the disruption was significant, why was it only Gillingham who had arrived late for their game? With the Barrow fiasco, were their shambolic arrangements proof that they were not viable as a Football League club? Clubs were continually bleating about no money for ground improvements, floodlighting, players wages, travelling expenses and so forth. Shouldn’t they cut their cloth accordingly, resign from the Football League, and go part-time?

And no prizes for guessing which club was first to be pointed at. The Daily Express started the ball rolling in its “Fans Forum” the following Friday. The question was “Should Gillingham remain a League Club?” The page of some 20 letters remains one of the most humiliating ever published. They were queuing up to rip in. “If Gillingham cannot pay their way they should get out” said one. “My Sunday side turns up for its games. This so-called professional outfit should hang its head in shame.” Even so-called Gills’ fans were lining up. “How much more embarrassment do we have to take before the Board realise that we would be better off back in the Southern League?” And then there was the Chairman of ambitious Southern League outfit Oxford United claiming our place for his own “We can pay our way, unlike Gillingham. My club stands ready at any time to take Gillingham’s place.” Just one correspondent stood by us in our agony – a Walsall fan who wrote “Lay off Gillingham. They wouldn’t be the first club to get up from the floor and win promotion.”

Two years later he was proved right (see Part 33) but before that our future hung by a thread. We simply had to avoid finishing in the bottom four and applying for re-election as Oxford United would be rubbishing us for sure. The pre-Christmas revival petered out and after a patchy New Year we plodded into 20th position. But we were safe, because in March 1962 Accrington Stanley ran out of money and resigned from the Football League. Ambitious Oxford United took their place instead. Satisfyingly Gills paid their chairman back for his boastful remarks by doing the double over them the following season and in the process becoming the first Football League side to beat them at home. And by a strange twist of fate Accrington recaptured their Football League place 44 years later as Oxford were dumped back into the Conference.

But all that was for the future. In late 1961 the nightmare on Holker Street felt like seven hot daggers to the heart of the club.

Twenty five years previously, in 1895, New Brompton Football Club was on the crest of a wave. In just two seasons it had established itself from a group of locals playing friendlies each week to a football club employing professional players, joining the newly formed Southern League and spectacularly winning promotion to its First Division at the first attempt (see Part 3).

But from then on progress had stalled. Certainly during Victorian and Edwardian times Brompton had had their moments in the FA Cup (see Parts 6 and 7) but Southern League success, which was the key to elevation to the Football League, had been elusive. New Brompton tended to hover in mid-table, or just below it. Their best finish was a modest sixth (out of sixteen) in 1902/03.

On the other hand only once up until the outbreak of the First World War did New Brompton finish bottom – in 1907/08, and that was somewhat tempered by the sensational FA Cup defeat of Football League First Division Sunderland, and then taking First Division Manchester City to a replay. New Brompton avoided relegation to the Southern League Second Division because seventh placed Tottenham Hotspur were elected into the Football League.

Brompton’s main problem in not being able to build long term was that many of their players were signed when nearing the end of their careers or were from the local military establishments (and therefore could be suddenly posted to out-flung parts of the Empire). That seriously came home to roost in the 1914/15 season. Despite appalling battles and casualties being taken in Northern France as what became the First World War raged, the football season continued to its conclusion. Gillingham (as New Brompton now were) found it at times very difficult to field a team. Players with a military background went off to fight, and others of military age volunteered (compulsory conscription not being introduced until 1916). To complete the season Gillingham registered 61 players, won only six of the 38 games played, established a club record of 17 games without a win and unsurprisingly finished bottom.

When organised football started again in August 1919 the Southern League First Division had been expanded from twenty to twenty-two clubs. West Ham United had joined the Football League and Croydon Common had dropped out, to be replaced by Brentford and a Welsh contingent of Swansea City, Newport County and Merthyr Town. Fans were hoping that the Gills would put the disastrous 1914/15 season behind them and make a fresh start. They didn’t. Despite a titanic sixth qualifying round FA Cup battle with Swansea Town (see Part 8 ) Gillingham had another bad Southern League season and finished 1919/20 bottom again, two points adrift of Merthyr Town. The fans were suitably unimpressed and started pointing the finger at long-serving chairman Edward Crawley and his Board.

The root of the fans’ concern was that the summer of 1920 looked to be bringing a sea change in the world of football. The Football League now consisted of 44 clubs grouped into two divisions of 22, and other than clubs in London itself was exclusively based in the North and the industrial Midlands. The league wanted to expand its influence into the South of England, and what better way to do that than to make a Third Division, and do it by adopting the First Division of the Southern League en bloc? And on Monday May 31st 1920 the 44 Football League clubs voted to do exactly that. Gillingham would become a Football League Club playing in the newly established Football League Division Three. Or would they?

The minutes of that Football League Annual General Meeting do not make it clear. They state that “the 22 Southern League First Division clubs will be adopted”, but do not individually name them. The minutes are much more concerned about establishing the rights and protections for the 44 existing clubs. They will be “Full Members” and have a vote each, while the newcomers will be “Associate Members” and will have four votes between them all. Only the Third Division champions will be promoted into the Second Division (and so become a Full Member). There were other constitutional clarifications, but importantly the name “Gillingham” did not appear anywhere.

This was potentially disastrous, because as Gillingham had finished bottom of the Southern League First Division after the final game on May 1st 1920 were they relegated at that point and replaced by Second Division Champions Mid Rhondda, who would now become a Football League club? Or at May 31st 1920 were Gillingham still considered to be in the Southern League First Division and therefore join the Football League? At what point did relegation actually take place?

It was a question that the Board dared not ask, but they needed an answer because three days later, on Thursday June 3rd they faced an Annual General Meeting. News of the formation of the Football League Third Division was obviously well known and speaker after speaker demanded to know whether the rumours that Gillingham were excluded due to Southern League relegation were true. The inept answers about “seeking clarification” and “we intend to telegram the League shortly” (faxes and e-mails being decades into the future) cut no ice. As one formidable shareholder put it “Mr Chairman, for twenty-five years our traditional opponents have been the likes of Watford, Crystal Palace and Millwall They are now Football League clubs. Will we be playing them again next season – or Margate?”

There was an attempt by the Board’s supporters to come to their aid by praising them for their coup in appointing Robert Brown as secretary-manager. Mr Brown had been Portsmouth’s secretary-manager for eight years, and had steered them to be the current Southern League champions. But Mr Brown had got into a dispute with the Pompey directors (probably about a pay rise) and had left. It was seen as a significant achievement by Gillingham to appoint someone of Mr Brown’s stature as secretary-manager, which the Board announced on May 12th.

Except that he hadn’t been. Although Mr Brown was acting as secretary-manager and signing players, the Board had to come clean at the AGM that he had only been appointed “pro tem.” Under pressure from shareholders they conceded “Mr Brown’s availability came to our notice following a chance meeting with a director. He has been appointed pro tem, and in the past three weeks has made a very valuable contribution to the club’s affairs. We hope to persuade him to stay.” In the event they couldn’t. A week later he was appointed as secretary-manager of Sheffield Wednesday, where he stayed until 1933 and led them to successive Football League Championships in 1929 and 1930.

Robert Brown has gone down in history as Gillingham’s shortest serving manager, but in fact he was never manager at all. None the less the work he did while “pro tem” for a month was significant. He was instrumental in bringing a number of quality players to the club – in particular inside forward Tommy Hall, from Newcastle United. Tommy was the club’s first ever £1,000 signing. He played for six years, making 207 appearances and scoring 55 goals and in 1926, at the end of his career, became the club’s trainer.

Tommy Hall’s signing was in part a reaction to the lashing that Edward Crawley and his Board received at the 1920 AGM. They eventually resolved their dilemma with the secretary-manager’s post in early July by appointing John McMillan, who was the trainer at Birmingham City. But their embarrassment about who Gillingham would be playing in 1920/21 was only finally resolved by the publication of the Football League Third Division fixture list, which showed “Gillingham” in it. They were lucky. Mid Rhondda didn’t have the friends in Southern League/Football League circles that Gillingham had, and their geographical position meant that there was little appetite for the new Third Division clubs to travel there.

And so, one of the many embarrassing episodes in the club’s history came to an end and attention finally turned to the serious business – Gillingham’s first ever Football League game. It was at Priestfield, on Saturday August 28th 1920, against Southampton. A crowd of 11,500, one of Priestfield’s then biggest, turned up on a sunny late summer afternoon, and paid £600 receipts to see this piece of history. The local rail company had lain on two special trains to bring fans in from north and east Kent. Unusually for those times there was a good sprinkling of fans from Southampton who, as the local paper described “gave up a goodly cheer when their favourites appeared, but it was nothing to the mighty roar that greeted the black and white stripes.”

Our team was:

(2-3-5) Jack Branfield; Jock Robertson (Capt), Tom Sisson; Wally Battiste, Tom Baxter, Cuthbert Wigmore; Arnold Holt, Tommy Hall, Tom Gilbey, Archie Roe, Sid Gore

Only Jack Branfield and Jock Robertson survived from Gillingham’s Southern League days, and it would be interesting to see how this new look side would gel. The game opened quietly. On the quarter hour Tommy Hall set up Tom Gilbey, whose cross-shot tested Allen in the Saints’ goal, but Southampton were getting into their stride with some neat passing movements. The Gills’ defence was kept busy and Jock Robertson, Tom Baxter and Tom Sisson needed some crisp tackles to keep the home side clear of serious danger.

But Gillingham’s direct counter-attacking game caused Southampton problems. Wally Battiste (playing at right-half rather than his more usual right-wing spot) hit a long cross that found Archie Roe on the left, and there were strong appeals for hand-ball as Archie’s drive hit a defender. Rather than a penalty Gills got a corner, but from it Tom Baxter hammered in a piledriver that saw Allen make the save of the game.

The Gills were finishing the first half on top. Tommy Hall screwed a shot wide of the post when he might have done better, but he and Wally Battiste combined on the stroke of half-time to put Tom Gilbey through. Tom raced into the box, only to be brought down heavily by Saints’ right-back Parker. There was a huge roar for a penalty. But the referee was having none of it, and an entertaining first half closed goalless.

Gillingham had a huge scare two minutes after the start of the second half. A quick attack sliced their defence wide open and Southampton inside-forward Arthur Dominy (who later played for the Gills in 1928/29) had the goal at his mercy. He shot well, but Jack Branfield made a brilliant save to keep it out. From his throw out Gills swept forward on the counter attack. Tommy Hall headed the ball into Tom Gilbey’s path, Tom swept past his marking defender, and as Allen came off his line placed the ball wide of him and inside the Rainham End goalpost. Tom Gilbey had scored the Gills’ first ever Football League goal, and put them ahead after 47 minutes.

But they couldn’t hold the lead for more than eight minutes. Southampton upped their game, and levelled when centre forward Bill Rawlings’ run wasn’t dealt with. He slipped the ball to Arthur Dominy and this time the future Gills’ player beat Branfield to equalise. Saints now enjoyed their best spell and Dominy nearly put them in front with another one-on-one with Jack Branfield. Fortunately the Gills’ keeper rushed out to make himself as big as he could and the inside-right chipped the ball over the bar. Then Branfield had to pull out another top drawer save to deny Rawlings.

The Gillingham faithful were starting to get edgy as they saw the game slipping away from them and, as the local paper commented “urged their favourites forward for one final effort with a prolonged bout of lusty cheering.” The players responded. Tom Gilbey and Tommy Hall loosed off shots following good build-up play. Three times they hit defenders (with two more penalty shouts for hand-ball). Gills closest effort was from a dropping shot by Tommy Hall. It deceived Allen completely, bounced on the crossbar, and disappointingly rolled down the back of the net.

Then, with the crowd bemoaning Gills’ ill-luck, Saints were through again. Once more the ball was at Dominy’s feet, and once more Jack Branfield made a superb save to keep him out. On another day the future Gills man might have had a hat-trick, but he got just one goal, as Gillingham did, and the game finished all square at 1-1.

As it turned out this wasn’t a bad result for the Gills. Southampton finished as runners-up to champions Crystal Palace. In the following game, away to Reading, Gillingham won 2-1 and in the first six games of the season were only beaten once (a 3-0 defeat by Southampton at The Dell). Hopes were high for a decent showing. But then the recent habits started to return. A 6-1 hammering away to Merthyr Town, only one more away win all season and a run of twelve games without a win between November and January, all contrived to see Gillingham achieve an unwanted hat-trick – bottom of the table for the third consecutive season.

It meant that after the wholly embarrassing incident of not knowing whether they were in the Football League at all, one year on Gillingham (along with Brentford) had to go cap in hand for the first of their five re-election applications to remain there.

It was the first Saturday in June 1950 and London was enjoying an early summer heat-wave. The red London Transport buses were creating plenty of smoke and dust as they roared around Piccadilly Circus and up and down Regents Street, passing a small group of men who were walking around outside the main entrance to the Cafe Royal. Were they protesting about something? Rationing, the Korean War, H Bomb tests perhaps? It’s peacetime – get down to Hyde Park and enjoy the sunshine.

But a closer examination of the placards that these men carried, and the sandwich-boards that they wore, revealed their passionate purpose – “Please Vote For Gillingham Football Club Today” “Gillingham Football Club and Supporters Thank You.” For this Saturday, June 3rd 1950, was the day of the Football League Annual General Meeting, and the Gills were making yet another application to recover the Football League place they had lost in 1938.

This fifth attempt (the others were in 1939, 1947, 1948 and 1949) had promise. Previously re-elections would have meant an existing club being thrown out, as Gillingham were in 1938 when Ipswich Town had been admitted. This time the two Third Divisions were being extended from 22 to 24 clubs, extending the total Football League membership from 88 clubs up to 92. For Gills’ Chairman WSC “Charlie” Cox it was the golden chance.

Charlie Cox had made Gillingham’s return to the Football League the core policy of his chairmanship, and he pursued that goal with all his relentless drive and energy. In 1948 he had prepared a brochure plugging Gills’ case for all it was worth, and sent a copy of it to every Football League club. The brochure spelt out that the Gills were no longer the derelict also-rans of pre-war days, bumping around the bottom and regularly coming up for re-election. This was New Gillingham, a Kentish industrial powerhouse with a multi-million catchment area behind it. A New Gillingham with an exciting team that had regularly made its mark in the FA Cup, who had won two Southern League Championships in the last three years, backed by huge and passionate crowds well into five figures. The sandwich-board men and delegate lobbying outside the Cafe Royal were all part of his plan, and they were telling anyone who would listen.

The wait inside and outside the Cafe must have been dreadful, for Gills’ fans and officials had no final influence on their fate. Eventually “the results, Gentlemen, are as follows – for the Third Division (North) ….Scunthorpe United, Shrewsbury Town…..yes, yes, blah, blah, blah….for the Third Division (South)…..Colchester United 28 votes, Gillingham 44 votes, Merthyr Tydfil 5 votes ……..” Did anyone really care what the others got? THE GILLS WERE BACK – and by a thumping majority too.

Chairman Charlie Cox, almost beside himself with excitement, stood the sandwich-board men and assorted lobbyists a rattling good lunch and then it was into a small fleet of cars to return to the Medway Towns in triumph. And what dreams on that journey. No longer Southern League trips to the likes of Bath, Worcester, Hastings and Headington, it was hello again to the likes of Crystal Palace, Swindon, Norwich and Millwall.

The great news had travelled before them. At the A2 near Cobham the landlord of “The Three Crutches” had laid out a trestle table full of the finest Kentish ales to slake the thirsts from the hot dusty road. Someone produced some placards saying “Great News! Gillingham FC Third Division” and these were tied onto the cars for the drive through Rochester and Chatham. People cheered, clapped and waved, for on this golden day everyone wanted to be a Gills’ fan.

Onto Dock Road, and outside the Dockyard Main Gate, at the traditional boundary of the borough, the party were met by a civic deputation led by the Mayor, Councillor George Penfold. “I judge this to be the greatest day, in football, that Gillingham has ever known. Three cheers for the Gills!” In reply, Chairman Charlie Cox showed great humility in the hour of his finest triumph. He thanked everyone for their hard work and support, “especially through the dark times. We have learned our lesson. It has been an uphill struggle to get back. Thank God we have done it. We must never find ourselves in that position again.”

And although there were one or two nightmare seasons along the way Gillingham were never again required to apply for re-election to the Football League in the 37 years that that system remained. Charlie Cox kept another promise too, and that was to make money available to manager Archie Clark to sign the additional players needed to ensure that Gills had a good chance of survival back in the Football League. Archie splashed out £15,000 (huge by Gillingham standards of the time) on six new players.

For the fans, this was surely the return of the good times. After the Second World War football crowds everywhere had rocketed, and Priestfield was no exception. But the return of League football was something else. All the pre-war fixtures were back, even including the Easter Monday paddle-boat trip across the estuary to play Southend. During the summer Priestfield itself had a further facelift. Huge tank blocks were put in on the north-west corner to build terracing along the Redfern Avenue side, and further concrete terracing put in on the enclosure in front of the Main Stand. Finally, on Saturday August 19th 1950 and after twelve long years, League Football returned to Priestfield.

In some ways the fixture was a little disappointing, for it was home to Colchester United – former Southern League opponents who had gained League status alongside Gillingham. It scarcely mattered to the fans however. 19,542 packed in, Priestfield’s fourth highest gate ever. They saw a goalless draw, as each side felt each other out and got accustomed to their new surroundings. The Gills’ next two games, both away, saw a 3-1 defeat at Bournemouth and a 2-0 defeat at Bristol City. The following Wednesday early evening return with Bournemouth at Priestfield saw a 2-2 draw in front of 15.397, and on Saturday September 2nd 1950 came one of the eagerly awaited fixtures – Millwall at home.

Gillingham and the Lions had played each other regularly since 1894, and the Gills had come off very much second best. They had not won at New Cross since January 1904, a run that eventually stretched to 35 games until finally broken in 1960. Since their first visit to Priestfield in 1894 Millwall had actually won more times there than Gillingham had (14 wins to Gills 13). With Gillingham yet to win in the Third Division (South) and unbeaten Millwall second in the table, having won both away games and not conceding a goal, the omens for the Gills weren’t good.

But all that didn’t stop a vast crowd of 20,128 paying receipts of £1,475 and packing into Priestfield – the third biggest crowd at the ground, and the biggest ever League gate – to see this local derby. Their faith was rewarded. They saw what the local paper described as “forty-five glorious minutes when the Gills played streamlined supercharged soccer that left previously unbeaten Millwall floundering. Four times the ball flashed into the Millwall net to the accompaniment of full-throated roars from more than twenty thousand spectators.”

Our team was:-

(2-3-5) Larry Gage; Charlie Marks, Ron Lewin; Jimmy Boswell (Capt), Mike Skivington, Bill “Buster” Collins; Charlie Burtenshaw, Joe Campbell, Hughie Russell, Jackie Briggs, Bobby Veck.

It was a sunny September afternoon, and there was quite a strong breeze blowing towards the Rainham End. Millwall’s captain Gerry Bowler won the toss and decided to defend that end in the first half. Gillingham were well on top from the start. Inside-right Joe Campbell, signed for £2,000 that morning from Leyton Orient was having an impressive debut, and his accurate passing was setting up chances.

After twenty minutes Gillingham got a deserved goal. Jackie Briggs’ shot was charged down, but it ran loose and centre forward Hughie Russell drove a blistering strike into the roof of the net. Gills now really powered forward and after twenty-seven minutes they were 2-0 up after a stunning passing move. Mike Skivington fed the ball forward to Joe Campbell, he rode a couple of tackles and delivered to Hughie Russell. Hughie feinted to shoot, but slipped it to Jackie Briggs, and with the beleaguered Lions’ defence closing in on him he slipped it wide to Bobby Veck on the left who rifled a screamer across goal and into the corner.

Millwall were in trouble, and in Gills next attack they somehow survived a clear penalty claim after hacking down Joe Campbell within feet of the goal-line. It barely mattered. After thirty-two minutes a superb combination approach by Hughie Russell and Bobby Veck saw them lay it into Jackie Briggs’ path for him to smash into the roof of the net. And a minute later, with Gills next attack right-winger Charlie Burtenshaw hit one from just outside the box. It took a deflection off of a defender, but the power in it gave Lions’ keeper Finlayson no chance. 4-0. Pick that lot out!

Gillingham left the field to a standing ovation from the huge crowd and perhaps the team thought they had done more than enough to win. In the second half they eased down considerably, and seemed content just to stroke the ball about. They were hampered by early second half injuries to Joe Campbell and Hughie Russell and saw the effectiveness of both significantly reduced, but it was a dangerous policy to sit back against Millwall, who have rarely given a poor performance in any game they have ever played against the Gills. Ten minutes after the restart the Lions’ inside-right Jimmy Constantine scored with a simple header from a routine cross.

If anyone thought that was a consolation goal they were mistaken, because after sixty-seven minutes Millwall had made it 4-2 when a long punt into the goalmouth by left-back George Fisher deceived keeper Larry Gage, who had to look at it into the sun, and it dropped into the net. Four minutes later a quite brilliant forward move from the visitors was finished off by centre forward Frank Neary. Gillingham 4 Millwall 3 – and still nearly twenty minutes to go.

From an impregnable half-time position the Gills were now hacking and slashing the ball anywhere to clear their lines as the Lions swarmed around the Rainham End. The crowd packed in behind there were adding to the panic as the minutes ticked away. With four minutes left Millwall had a golden chance to equalise. The Gillingham defence got themselves into a tangle, and the Lions’ left-winger Johnny Jones had the ball at his feet four yards out from a gaping goal. He stabbed it wide of the post.

After that extraordinary escape Gillingham did manage to close the game out 4-3 and record their first Football League win on their return. There were twelve more wins to come in a seesaw season that had Gills taking their biggest Football League hammering (9-2 at Nottingham Forest) but also record their then biggest Football League win (9-4 against Exeter) – see Part 22. They shipped 101 goals in the 1950/51 season and finished 22nd, but importantly they were six points clear of Watford and Crystal Palace in the two re-election places.

It was good enough for starters. Gillingham had clung on to their second chance in the big time. The fans could look forward to more games like this classic encounter with the old rivals from New Cross, and see their favourites delight and exasperate in equal measure before finally winning through – as a Football League club once again.

So when we had a question “name three towns in Devon” I thought everyone would go for the football teams like Plymouth and Torquay, so I put “Totnes, Tavistock and Excreta” (Oh come on, my spelling wasn’t that good. I was only ten). The kid marking my effort, who I didn’t like much because I had to sit next to him in infants’ school and he kept wetting himself, stuck his hand up and said “Eccles has put ‘Excreta’ sir”. A blackboard duster thrown unerringly by the teacher hit me smack on the back of the head and I had to stay in and write out 100 lines while everyone else went up the Langton Playing Fields for a game of cricket.

Hence Excre…..sorry Exeter has never been my favourite place. It’s the same in football. They’ve usually been in the nether regions along with the Gills – Southern League, Third Division South and Fourth Division – but it’s approaching 48 years since we last won there. That happy event was on Boxing Day 1961, with a 3-1 win secured by two goals from Ronnie Waldock and one from Bill Cockburn (pronounced Co-Burn, in case someone thinks it’s something nasty that you catch whilst on holiday in Thailand). Manager Harry Barratt was off sick that day and Chairman Doctor Grossmark picked the team, so maybe that’s how we’d eventually beat them again. Scally can pick ‘em with a pin while Stimmo throws up.

Us Zimmer Boys were contemplating all this as the train rattled down the old Southern Region line between Waterloo and Exeter Central. One or two of the less resilient of our number had jacked it in for a few weeks following the Shrewsbury and Aldershot efforts, but us seven hard-bitten reprobates were still sticking with it – me, Len Catheter, Old Blow, One Lung Les, Zimma, Piles and Rats. We got to the city just before one o’clock. It was drizzling, and after a quick couple of pints of Shepherd Neame’s finest Spitfire Ale (we found a hostelry by the cathedral that served it) it was up to St James’ Park on the bus.

I must say that I was pleasantly surprised at the ground. The last time we were here, for a 0-0 in the Tony Pulis promotion season when Big Leo had one ridiculously disallowed in the first minute, the ground had looked decidedly tatty. And after that Exeter had been kicked out of the League and nearly gone bust. But they were back, and the ground looked neat and tidy, spruced up and CHEAP. As decrepit pensioners we were in for just EIGHT quid behind the goal, and for just another POUND we could sit in Block A of the stand, right by where the players went on and off.

There were a good few Gills’ fans at Exeter watching this one. A new ground for some, and the chance to see a bit of history being made for others. You’d need to be close to our age to have seen the Gills win here before, but on this occasion hopes were high that we’d finally nail it. We had a pretty decent team out. At least, that was the plan up until the time that the game kicked off. To say that we stank the place out was an insult to bad smells.

With Exeter’s first decent attack after five minutes we got ripped apart down the right flank. A teasing cross from Marcus Stewart didn’t get cleared, it bounced out to Logan on the edge of the box and he headed past Simon Royce and comfortably inside the post. “Rubbish Gillingham” screamed someone near me “Get yer act together.” But they didn’t. The defence went awol again after another of Exeter’s sweeping moves and Royce made an excellent save to keep them out.

Gillingham had the odd attack. Simeon Jackson ballooned one over from a decent position and after half an hour John Nutter drove one high and wide after some good approach work, but in truth Exeter were just steamrollering forward and plenty more for them looked inevitable. Simon Royce had to make some decent saves as individual mistakes left him exposed, but we were slowly edging towards half time, and if it kept to 1-0 maybe, just maybe, we could turn it round.

It was the sort of optimism that has kept us going for decades – and has disappointed us for decades too, as it did again here. There was another attack from Exeter after thirty-nine minutes and goodness knows how many chances we had to clear it. Bentley lost the ball, Richards miskicked it, Royce half saved. It drifted near to Exeter’s Adam Stansfield, who had fallen over during all this lot. He got back up as everyone stood and watched him, and kicked it into the net. He might even have had enough time to sing one of his sister Lisa’s songs.

Three minutes later it was 3-0 as Stansfield ran on to an awful back pass from Nutter, outpaced Richards and drilled it under the helpless Royce. That one sealed it for most fans. Some stormed out, but most stood up and gave the team and management a fearful booing as they trooped off. The group of fans around us were in a great position to give it large as the tunnel was directly below us, and they did so too. “Rubbish!” “Non League crap!” “Sling yer hooks, the lot of you!” were some of the more complimentary comments. Stimmo stopped and gave some back through the grille. “You’re the manager! Don’t start mouthing us off!” screamed someone. “Get down that tunnel and get it sorted!”. Oh dear.

I suppose you could say that Stimmo did get it sorted because we didn’t concede any more in the second half, but how much of that was due to Exeter knowing they’d done more than enough to win and easing down I don’t know. Certainly they had nowhere near the number of shots and pressure that they had had in the first half, and we came into the game more, but our shots were either well off target or weak at the keeper and cleared easily. Albert Jarrett gave Exeter most problems with his mazy runs, but there was no end product, either from him or from the team.

And so it ended 3-0. We’ve seen some disappointing games down here over the years, but this one was as bad as it gets. We’d lost by the same score in Mike Flanagan’s time and we debated on the train home whether that was worse than this one. I thought it was because Steve Banks had saved a penalty that day and otherwise it would have been 4-0, but then others said that it was better because at least Banksy had made some good saves. I suppose One Lung Les summed it up “It doesn’t matter whether it’s greater crap or lesser crap, it’s STILL crap.”

Quite.

With this shambles following on a few weeks from the worst defeat in 47 years you did wonder where we went next. Stimmo’s response surprised many – he sacked the captain. Andrew Crofts wasn’t exactly a proactive skipper, going around ranting at people and grabbing them by the throat and stuff like that, but he’d never seriously let us down and wasn’t the worst performer in the St James’ Park mess. But, away on international duty with Wales he was dumped, and other than the odd substitute appearance, never played for us again. Right-back Barry Fuller got the armband.

What Gills needed was to dish out a few thumpings themselves, and they were in luck the following Saturday when Morecambe came visiting. One of the worst sides masquerading as a Football League one that the Zimmer Boys had ever seen, Gills put them to the sword 5-0, and it could have been a lot more. Then came a fighting 2-2 draw at Bradford City after trailing 2-0 at half-time. With City being one of the bookies’ favourites for promotion this at last was a good result away from home.

But the old Gills’ failing of chucking away leads kicked in on the following Tuesday night at Priestfield. Comfortably leading 2-0 against Notts County with half an hour to go they let the visitors back into the game to get a 2-2 draw, with the equaliser coming from ex-Gillingham Delroy Facey. More potential cannon fodder presented itself when Chester City arrived at Priestfield the following Saturday. Chester are an odd side for Gillingham. So many times they ought to have been hammered out of sight but never have been, and the game’s rarely up to much. This 2-0 win was no exception, but it WAS a win.

After all that and nearing the end of October Gillingham remained in eighth position, kept there by the best home record in the division. On Tuesday 28th October there was a chance to get the away record back on track with a visit to Lincoln, a ground where Gills had gained some good results in the past.

It was the summer of 1939 and the storm clouds of war were darkening the skies of Europe. After the terrible carnage of the Great War twenty years previously no-one, except it seemed Adolf Hitler and his Nazi Germany, wanted to go through that again. Maybe some brighter news on the local sports front would relieve the grim news on the newspaper front pages.

But if Gills’ fans were looking for respite at Priestfield, forget it. Chairman Alderman Jack Knight was at his depressing best “The directors took a gamble and made a sacrifice of nearly £2,500. We are in very low water again.” He was referring to the 1938/39 season. Having lost their Football League status in May 1938 by failing to get re-elected for a fifth time, Knight and his directors had vowed to carry on as if they were still a League club. They had expected to romp away with the Southern League title and be re-elected back to the Football League for 1939/40.

It had half worked. Under new manager Bill Harvey, who had previously taken Chesterfield to the Third Division (North) title, Gills finished a creditable third, three points behind champions Colchester United over 44 games. The Gills scored 104 goals in that campaign. Harry Rowley, who previously played for Oldham, Manchester City and Manchester United, plundered 38 of them, and the brilliant little inside-forward Tug Wilson chipped in with another 25. But crowds had reduced from an average of around 5,500 to under 3,000 and by continuing to pay Football League wages the club had made an annual loss of £2,500.

Gillingham also lost out on the politicking. At the 1939 Football League AGM they applied to be readmitted, and lobbied hard for support, calling in one or two favours from the past. A number of clubs pledged their backing, and Alderman Knight and his Board were confident of success. But they overlooked that to get back in someone else had to be kicked out. In the voting, although Gillingham polled a creditable 15 votes, incumbents Bristol Rovers and Walsall comfortably survived with 45 and 36 votes respectively.

Hence Alderman Knight’s comment about “very low water” – a coded hint that the club was effectively completely washed up and wouldn’t continue for much longer. They already needed a new manager as Bill Harvey had resigned and emigrated to South Africa. Then on July 11th 1939 things symbolically came full circle. A private meeting between the directors and shareholders was held in the Napier Arms, the club’s birthplace, to discuss whether the club should be put into voluntary liquidation.

Few punches were pulled in the debate. Many speakers ranted at the board, and Alderman Knight in particular, for failing to build a settled side, selling any decent player on the cheap with almost obscene haste, and being smug about their “right” to retain Football League status. When the vote on voluntary liquidation was put, despite many abstentions, it produced a dead heat, and the matter needed to be decided on the Chairman’s casting vote. Alderman Knight voted for the club to carry on.

After his public utterances Knight’s stance surprised many, but there were probably three reasons for it. Firstly, correct meeting etiquette requires the casting vote to be for the status quo, as the argument for change has not carried a majority. The status quo was for the club to continue. Secondly, as an Alderman of the borough and four times Mayor of Gillingham, Jack Knight didn’t want to go down in the annals as the man who’d killed off Gillingham Football Club. And thirdly, war was coming, and that could change everything.

The Gathering Storm: Summer 1939

The Western Allies, Britain and France, feared another European War. They had lost a generation in the slaughter of the trenches in 1914/18, and to those dreadful spectres were now added the horrors of “modern warfare” – enemy aircraft bombing towns and cities into oblivion, gas bombs being dropped to poison the population, and the British and French way of life being completely obliterated. On the other hand Adolf Hitler and his Nazi Germany welcomed it. For them war would strengthen and purify the Aryan race, and recover the lost lands that had been taken from Germany under the Versailles Treaty following their defeat at the end of the Great War.

So was born the policy of appeasement, whereby Britain and France gave into Hitler’s territorial demands, or looked the other way, while he dismantled the terms of the Versailles Treaty in the search of what he believed was Germany’s rightful “lebensraum”. Britain’s appeasement policy, articulated by Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, reached its depths in September 1938 with the disgraceful sell-out of Czechoslovakia at the Munich Conference, allowing Hitler to redraw that part of South East Europe while Mussolini helped him by sharpening his pencil. Chamberlain returned from Munich in apparent triumph, getting off of the aeroplane and waving a piece of paper that Hitler had signed claiming this was “Peace in our time”.

It wasn’t of course. Six months later Hitler helped himself to the rest of Czechoslovakia. Chamberlain and his Government realised that they would now have to fight him or be humiliated in world affairs over and over again. Britain signed treaties with several East European states, and crucially with Poland, stating that we would come to their aid if they were attacked (no-one thought out how this could be done). By the summer of 1939 Hitler was demanding the return of former German territory now part of Poland. Poland refused, and to Chamberlain’s consternation, wouldn’t talk to Hitler either. They said openly that if Hitler attacked them they would fight. So if neither backed down and Germany and Poland started fighting would Britain go to war to support the Poles? Or would Chamberlain try to cobble together another Munich-style cop-out?

The Season That Never Was: 1939/40

Gillingham’s first game in their second season back in the Southern League was away to Tunbridge Wells Rangers, on Saturday August 26th. The international situation was grim. A few days previously Hitler’s Nazi Germany and Stalin’s Soviet Russia had signed a “non-aggression pact” which was anything but of course, and almost certainly included secret clauses to slice up Poland between them. But on the brighter side the Gills had a new manager, a player one in fact, who’d picked himself to play centre-half.

It was the start of Archie Clark’s 19 year reign at the club. Kent-born at Shoreham near Sevenoaks, Archie had served the majority of his career at Luton, Everton and Tranmere Rovers, and at 37 years of age was nearing the end of his career. He got off to a great start as player-manager. The Gills beat a useful Tunbridge Wells Rangers side 2-0 at Culverden Stadium with last season’s 63 goal duo of Tug Wilson and Harry Rowley both scoring.

On Wednesday evening, August 30th, it was back to Priestfield to play Newport County Reserves. A number of Football League clubs played their reserve team in the Southern League at that time (eg Plymouth, Arsenal, Cardiff, Norwich, Swindon, Torquay, Aldershot) alongside the Welsh, who seemed to have decided to start the Second World War a few days early.

Our team was:

(2-3-5) Dave Whitelaw; Ernie Foreman, Bob Costello; Charlie Campbell, Archie Clark (Player Manager and Captain), Don Browning; Alan Fowler, Tug Wilson, Harry Rowley, Dan Cowe, Eddie Scott

Harry Rowley put the Gills ahead in the sixth minute with a blistering low shot that beat Watson, the Newport keeper, for pace, but after a quarter of an hour Albert Derrick, the Welshmen’s centre forward, had levelled with a close range shot. Then came the first of a number of controversial refereeing decisions.

Archie Clark was juggling the ball and trying to pass it back to Dave Whitelaw. He was being hassled by Derrick, who from the Rainham End, looked to have clearly handled. Much to everyone’s amazement the referee awarded a free kick on the edge of the box against Archie. Derrick took it, there was a deflection off a Gills’ defender, and we were 2-1 down. There was a storm of booing from a crowd of around 2,500, to which Harry Rowley responded by thrashing home two beautiful left-foot drives to put the Gills 3-2 up at the interval.

But as the second half unfolded it became obvious that this was going to be no ordinary game. The referee’s decisions were growing ever more eccentric, and they were all, as the crowd saw it, going against the Gills. On top of that, Newport were adopting some rough tactics that were going unpunished. “If this is their RESERVE side, how much filthier is their first team?” yelled someone from the enclosure.

Things came to a head with an extraordinary incident. Once again Archie Clark and Albert Derrick were having a jostle, and Archie appeared to be fouled. The home players confidently appealed for a free kick, but to everyone’s amazement the referee awarded a penalty to Newport. He was besieged by an indignant Gillingham team, but refused to change his decision or even to consult a linesman. The crowd became incensed, and booed mightily.

It was several minutes before the penalty was taken, and Derrick completed his hat-trick by driving it powerfully past Dave Whitelaw and levelling at 3-3. Before the resumption of play goalkeeper Watson complained to the referee about the abuse and debris that were being thrown at him in equal measure from behind his goal at the Rainham End. As the referee started to investigate someone ran onto the pitch and headed in his direction. Fortunately the man was intercepted by players and officials. Then the police got involved, as the referee ordered them to clear that end of the ground.

Finally the game resumed, and if it had already got out of hand off the field, it was now getting out of hand on it too. As the local paper described “It was not an edifying sight to see players hacking, kicking, jumping, and even in the case of one Newport player, punching an opponent” And in all this mayhem Gills’ left-winger Eddie Scott won the game 4-3 with a spectacular diving header from Tug Wilson’s free kick.

At the end of the game Archie Clark immediately led his players off, refusing to shake hands with either the Newport players or the referee. The Gillingham directors backed their manager’s stand by pointedly visiting the Gills’ dressing room and congratulating them on winning under “difficult conditions” and then going nowhere near the Newport one to commiserate.

In normal times the wrath of the FA would have descended upon Priestfield, but of course these were not normal times. Thirty six hours later, at dawn on Friday September 1st Hitler’s armies invaded Poland. What would Neville Chamberlain’s Government now do? Initially – dither. Normal life would proceed, and that meant that on the following day, Saturday September 2nd 1939, a full set of football fixtures would be played.

Gillingham were away to Worcester City. The train journey was a difficult one, with diversions and cancellations. Archie Clark and his team arrived with only 10 minutes to spare. There were two changes from Wednesday’s international incident at Priestfield. Tug Wilson and Ernie Foreman had work commitments in Chatham Dockyard, and were replaced by Jack Cusworth and Pat O’Connor.

Player-manager Archie Clark was in the wars again, this time pulling a groin muscle early in the game. But he battled on, and for most of the game the Gills looked like comfortably securing a draw. Sadly they were undone in the second half when debutante O’Connor sliced a clearance. The ball ran loose to the Worcester City outside-right, who scrambled it in with the aid of two of his colleagues – a bit like a push-over try that you get in Rugby Union. It was the only decent chance Worcester had. For the rest of the game they were well held by the Gills’ defence, where Costello and Cusworth were outstanding. Up front the Gills were disappointing, with too many of their shots either lacking power or being off-target.

And so, what had been a surreal fixture on the final day of peacetime ended in a 1-0 defeat for the Gills. The team now had to face the difficult journey home as the country started to shut down for war. Having left Gillingham at 7.00am they arrived back just after 2.00am Sunday morning, Almost certainly, after a few hours sleep, like everyone else in Britain they gathered around their radios to hear Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain’s 11.00am broadcast:

“This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note, stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.”

Phoney War, Phoney Fixtures: September 1939 to May 1940

Everyone expected that within days German armies would sweep through Western Europe, German bombers would swarm over Britain flattening towns and cities, or make gas attacks. Hundreds of thousands of children were immediately evacuated to safer areas in the countryside, everyone was required to carry a gas mask, and there was rationing, blackouts and restrictions of movement, particularly in Kent which was seen as being on the front line.

For the first eight months of the war none of that happened. With Soviet help, Hitler’s armies dismantled Poland and began a brutal occupation, there were various naval battles, U boat attacks, and an abortive British attempt to occupy Norway but not yet the terror and horror initially envisaged.

Obviously in these draconian circumstances football could not continue in its usual form. For Gillingham their Southern League campaign was cancelled, and their record – played 3, won 2, lost 1, goals for 6, goals against 4 – was frozen in time forever. The club itself went into suspended animation. Chairman Alderman Jack Knight commented “We hope to resume our football fixtures once the situation on the home front settles down. Most of our players are in employment locally and our ground remains open for them to continue training and keeping fit.” Player-manager Archie Clark and several players were working in Chatham Dockyard, but some others had already been called up, and more would follow.

By November 1939, the authorities had decided that some sort of normalcy should return to civilian life, and that included some form of organised football. The Kent FA gained Home Office permission to form the Kent Regional League, and Gillingham joined the Eastern Group. In truth it was little more than organised friendlies, with teams being able to field anyone from the armed services who was locally available, and professional players registered with other clubs if they were locally based on call-up.

Twelve clubs entered this League, reduced to eleven when Tunbridge Wells Rangers withdrew in January 1940. Gillingham’s first game was a 1-1 draw at Margate on Thursday afternoon November 2nd 1939, and in the return at Priestfield on December 13th the Seasiders were hammered 10-0. That was the Gills biggest win, although they hit seven goals four times (7-4 away to Canterbury Waverley on November 23rd; 7-2 home to Aylesford Paper Mills on February 24th; and two 7-0 away wins at Lloyds Paper Mills on April 20th and Maidstone United on May 1st 1940).

Of their 19 games played, the Gills won 15, drew 2 and lost 2, the two defeats being 4-3 at Ashford on 22nd March and 2-0 at Shorts Sports Rochester on April 10th 1940, (the only Eastern Group game in which Gillingham failed to score). That was a crucial defeat, for when the competition was abandoned following the German invasion of France on May 10th 1940, Shorts were the only club above the Gills with one game left to play.

Organised Kent football wasn’t finally abandoned until a week later. Gills played a Kent Senior Shield Second Round game at Priestfield, beating Sittingbourne 4-0. The semi-final with Margate never took place.

The Struggle for Survival : May 1940 – December 1943

This time the cancellation of any form of organised football in the South East was final, as the nation fought for its very existence. Within days the German armies had smashed through allied lines and reached the Channel, and the British Army had to be rescued from Dunkirk by the armada of little ships. Then came the Battle of Britain, followed by night-time bombing, with its indiscriminate death and property destruction. On the battle fronts the news was almost wholly depressing. There was defeat in the Balkans, the campaign in North Africa was going badly, convoys were being sunk by U boats, chunks of the Empire had been lost to Japan in the Far East, and even the entry on Britain’s side of Soviet Russia and the United States initially failed to turn the tide.

But by 1943, the fourth year of the war things were finally starting to go well, although on the Home Front the civilian population were in the mood that the whole thing would never end. There were shortages and privations everywhere. Families were homeless because of the bombing, split up because of evacuations or call-ups, and everything was rationed, restricted or unobtainable. If you saw a queue you got on the end of it, because they were doling out something that you might want.

Towards the end of 1943 a lady complained bitterly to Prime Minister Winston Churchill about the poor quality of food and rations. He told his aides to serve him the standard rations for his dinner that night. When he’d finished he said “She’s right, it is a bit sparse” to which the reply came “Actually Prime Minister that was supposed to last you for a week.” It prompted Churchill to think that if restrictions weren’t relaxed somewhat there might be serious unrest. The country needed to start returning to normalcy.

The Game Of Hope: Gillingham v Ford Sports Monday December 27th 1943

It was like the fairy story of the Sleeping Beauty. With the Home Office’s kiss of encouragement the Gillingham directors had organised a big Priestfield clean-up. Weeds were ripped out of the pitch and the terraces, cobwebs dust and dirt swept away, and manager Archie Clark had got together a team from registered Gills’ players and various guest players who were in the area to play a friendly match against Ford Sports. Based at the Dagenham factory, Fords had a settled side who would be quite a challenge.

The cold Boxing Day weather didn’t deter an enthusiastic crowd of over 4,000 showing up, paying gate receipts of £200. And it didn’t dampen the enthusiasm of the Chatham Observer reporter, who recorded the scene with relish. “It was just as if the usual weekly match had never been away. The old familiar crowds thronged the streets. The turnstiles, rusted over four long years, clicked merrily again. The noise of the rattles, the display of football favours, audible praise, subdued criticism – these were the signs of a new life, a new enthusiasm at Priestfield which sprang into a live virile animated being from its long dormant and derelict existence.”

Blimey. And there’s more “The loud-speakers boomed again (one would hesitate to say the same gramophone records) with all their peacetime cheerfulness as the stands and enclosure gradually filled. Depredations were looked for but proved to be surprisingly few in number, although repairs to the roof of the main stand, which sustained damage during a raid early in the war, were evident.”

Our team, including several guest players, was:

(2-3-5) Jim Robertson (Dundee); Charlie Marks, Joe Deans (Aberdeen); Jimmy Boswell (Chester), Stan Cullis (Capt – Wolves and England), Charlie Roberts (Grimsby); Alan Fowler, Tug Wilson, Vic Hole, Joe Walker, Frank Roblin

Archie Clark’s coup had been to acquire 27 year old England International Stan Cullis to captain his side. The Gills’ team also saw the debuts of post-war favourites Vic Hole, Jimmy Boswell and Charlie Marks. Mrs Hilda Cox, Mayoress of Gillingham and wife of future chairman WSC “Charlie” Cox, kicked off, and at 2.45pm we were away.

It was almost as if the players had three and a half years of pent-up energy to disperse. Gills started at a cracking pace and took the game to Ford, but the visitors had a very high-class keeper in Eddie Foulds who coped with everything that the Gills could throw. Ford Sports countered impressively and their longer experience of playing together showed.

After fifteen minutes of ding-dong stuff the Gills were awarded a penalty for handball. Joe Walker took it and hit a powerful, well-placed shot, but Foulds in the Ford goal saved impressively. Five minutes later Ford’s Hooper broke through in the inside-left position and beat Robertson with a beautiful chipped shot. The Gills hit back strongly, but they couldn’t get the better of Foulds and his well-drilled defence, and the visitors turned round 1-0 ahead.

Gillingham dominated the early part of the second half but they were showing signs of attacking as individual elements rather than a co-ordinated unit. They were caught on the counter after 65 minutes when Ford’s left-winger Sergeant broke away and scored with a low cross-shot. But Gillingham were not to be denied, and five minutes later Joe Walker drove in from close range after another bout of sustained pressure.

It set up an exciting climax. Again and again Gillingham poured forward in search of an equaliser and kept the Ford defence at full stretch. Foulds made two brilliant saves, and from his throw-out four minutes from time centre forward Gattendy made a good run through the middle and scored with a strong shot.

The final scoreline of Gillingham 1, Ford Sports 3 flattered the visitors somewhat. The difference between the two sides had been Ford’s familiarity with each others’ game, whereas the Gills side had been something of an All Stars XI. But the result mattered little. This was a victory for football, and a victory for the British way of life. It was a triumphant morale-booster. The fans who were there were enthused for the future, none more so than the Chatham Observer reporter. “The Gills are back. Now it must be back to the League.”

Final Reckoning: June 1944 to May 1945

The Boxing Day game with Ford Sports had fired everyone’s enthusiasm, and Gillingham made an application to join the London section of the Wartime Football League. The application was turned down on grounds of national security. With Kent being turned into an armed camp in preparation for the allied invasion of Western Europe travel and general population movements were very restricted. There was no way people would be allowed to come and go to play football matches.

But after the D-Day landings had been achieved and there had been rapid Allied advances into northern France there really was a feeling that the war would soon be over, possibly as early as October 1944. It meant that some form of competitive football was now back on the agenda. The Kent Senior League was up and running, and Gillingham joined it. They played their first game on Saturday August 26th 1944, by a strange co-incidence the exact day that the ill-fated 1939/40 Southern League season had commenced.

This time the Gills had a home game, which they won 4-2 against Gravesend United. However Gillingham were slow to get into their stride. They lost three of their first seven games, which included Ford Sports doing the double over them (4-1 at Dagenham and another 3-1 win at Priestfield). But after that the Gills were unbeaten in their last eleven games, winning ten of them. The biggest victory was an 11-3 thrashing handed out at Priestfield to Snowdown Colliery Welfare on December 23rd. It certainly meant an unhappy Christmas for the miners.

As the Allied armies advanced on Hitler’s Germany in the early months of 1945 so the Gills advanced on the top of the Kent Senior League. Ford Sports faded, and only Shorts Sports remained as challengers for the title. Maybe the fixture planners had known something, for Gills’ last two fixtures were away to the plane makers at their Cuxton Road Rochester ground on Saturday May 5th 1945, and then at Priestfield two weeks later on May 19th .

Shorts went into the fixtures with 28 points from their 16 games, the Gills with 25 points from the same number. A draw or a win for the plane makers would have won them the title, but the Gills played beautifully to win 3-1 and set up a championship decider at Priestfield. Two weeks later over 5,000 fans, the best gate of the season saw Gills beat Shorts Sports 3-1 again, with a goal by Ted Jackson and two from Vic Hole to clinch the Kent Senior League Championship by a point. It was the club’s first serious silverware since the Southern League Second Division Championship in 1895.

It meant a double celebration for Gills fans, for in between these two games the war in Europe had ended. The message roared out from Priestfield was clear. Adolf Hitler and his Nazi Germany were finished, and the phoenix-like rise of Gillingham Football Club had started.

Us Zimmer Boys just love steam trains. They take us back to those golden summer days of our pikey roots, sitting on the Hawkhurst Flyer to go Dahn ‘Oppin’. Steam coming through the windows, bits of coal dust getting between your teeth, and some gyppo woman walking up and down a station halt flogging lucky heather. Marvellous.

These days of course steam trains and their railways are now more a tourist attraction than a working entity, but none the less no visit to the North East would be complete without a trip on one of the best, the North Yorkshire Moors Railway. We’d broken our journey to Darlo and here we were at Pickering waiting for the next departure. And what a treat we had, because who should be pulling our carriages but 60007 Sir Nigel Gresley. The huge blue engine that used to rip the track up at 100mph between Kings Cross and Edinburgh looked a little out of place on a single track branch line, but such is the price of progress. Old Sir Nige could still summon up a lot more puff than some of the duds that we’ve had in blue shirts in recent years.

A couple of stations down the line was Goathland, the most dangerous place in England. Fans of ITV’s Heartbeat know it as Aidensfield, where police rush around in turquoise Ford Anglias to the strains of 1960′s pop music, as robberies, muggings, murders and rapes take place all around them, and all sorts of undesirables come and live in the area or just pass through. There’s only three coppers, but they have a fabulous crime detection rate, all sorted from sitting in the bar of the Aidensfield Arms boozing with Alf Ventress and that bloke who used to be the straight man for Basil Brush. Mind you, we’d spend plenty of time in the Aidensfield Arms ourselves what with that Nikki Sanderson in there as barmaid – the one that used to be in Coronation Street. No wonder they keep all the drinks on the top shelf, and Len’s catheter bag kept bubbling.

Anyway, not wanting to become part of the crime statistics ourselves we quickly returned to the station, and found that the next train due was a through train to Whitby. None of us had ever been there before, so this was indeed an adventure. It’s very much like a Cornish fishing village, only set on the North Yorkshire coast. Captain Cook lived there, and set sail for the Southern Seas over 200 years ago. Up on the top of the cliff is Whitby Abbey, which in Bram Stoker’s novel is infested by Count Dracula. Ever game for adventure, we took the steep climb up to the Abbey, which was indeed a jaunt for some of our decrepit number, and quite honestly it was a waste of team. They wanted six quid to go in, and you couldn’t see any of it from the road as they’d built a high wall – or so they thought. Giving each other a quick bunk-up with our Zimmer frames we had a good spy, and even took a few decent photos before some old bag from English Heritage told us to clear off.

Time was pushing on, and thoughts turned to getting to Darlington to cheer on Stimmo’s Stompers. We’d heard that the Darlington ground was in the middle of nowhere so it made sense to get fed and watered around Whitby Harbour. There were a number of fascinating hostelries along the quay, named after the local celebrities. There was the Captain Cook, which was all polished leather and carved and varnished wood, there was the Count Dracula which was a bit dark and spooky, and going all the way to the end of the quay there was the Paris Hilton, which we decided not to go into because it was full up with old seamen.

Fed and watered, it was on to The Balfour Webnet Darlington Arena, and what an oddity that is, and we don’t just mean the name. You drive along the road into Darlo and this huge arena looms up on the left hand side. There’s special access roads, a big car park, and great big walk-ins and concourses. Trouble is there’s no-one there – for our game just 2,831, with about 250 of those from Gillingham. Great swathes of the ground were closed – all one side, and two thirds of both ends. Those fans that were there were corralled into areas where they could be seen on the TV cameras, to make it look as if there were more people there than was the case. All a bit sad really. A depressing monument to one man’s vanity, and how the old timer Darlo fans must have wished they were back at cosy Feethams.

Darlo attacked our end in the first half and they were all over us. In the first minute a shot was deflected over for a corner, they forced another one after three minutes and for the first ten we barely got out of our own half. At that point we did get into a reasonable position, but Curtis Weston ran the ball out.

Back came Darlo for another bout of pressure. One or two of our defenders were struggling against their pace and movement, but it slowly became apparent that despite all their fancy play and footwork Darlo were in fact pretty toothless. They weren’t really hurting us. But we hurt them all right. After twenty-one minutes Simeon Jackson was on to a long through ball from Simon Royce, held off a couple of defenders and poked it past the keeper. 1-0.

Blimey, and two minutes later Big Mac, off the treatment table at last, nearly got another. Darlo thought that to get back into the game they needed to mix it, and there was plenty of shoving around for a free kick into the box. Andrew Crofts clearly brought a bloke down in the box right in front of us. Fortunately the referee didn’t have x-ray vision as to spot it he’d have needed to look right through Simon King’s backside. Then Big Mac got booked for squaring up to someone and just before half-time Darlo ended another promising move by blasting a shot high over the bar.

At half time the Gills were good value for their lead. Although they’d been on the back foot for a lot of it they’d been much more incisive going forward, scored, and Darlo had lost their way. So far so good. But it looked as though Darlo had had the proverbial boot up the backside during the interval, because they were much more positive in their attacking and had us under the cosh for long periods. Simon Royce saw several shots fizz past the woodwork and had to make a number of good saves as Darlington pressed us further and further back.

With a quarter of an hour left Darlo’s fans mounted an impressive roar for a penalty which the referee ignored, and a minute later another one which he didn’t. Roycie went the right way for Purdie’s kick, but he was beaten for pace. Most of the Gills’ fans were now expecting that Darlo would go on and win. We had barely got into their half and their keeper Brown, who sported an all-fluorescent orange kit, had had absolutely nothing to do. But once again Darlo seemed to go off the boil, and Kentish hopes began to rise that we would certainly get a point out of this.

Then with three minutes left Stimmo played his trump card, replacing Simeon Jackson with Gary The Goal Machine to play in his favourite position of down by the cornerflag. He immediately forced one, which Nicky Southall took and Dennis Oli blasted into Row Z, and then he forced another one. Although this time it wasn’t, because it had spun off Gazza for a goal kick, but the referee boobed and gave a corner anyway. Over it came, Oli shot, the keeper punched it against the post, a Darlo defender didn’t hack it clear properly, Garry Richards back-heeled the loose ball, it hit Big Mac somewhere, there were bodies all over the place and it finished up in the back of the net. The players celebrated like they’d won the cup, we sat and laughed out loud at our good fortune, and Darlo were gutted. A minute later the whistle went and the points were in the bag.

Piece of cake this League Two stuff.

It certainly looked that way. The following Saturday came the first visit of Accrington Stanley since the expunged (love that word) game in December 1961. A modest 1-0 win this time instead of giving them a 5-1 thumping but Gills were still all over them, followed up with a 3-0 win at Priestfield against Grimsby who were truly awful. And then the roof fell in.

Gillingham last shipped seven at York in November 1984 when a decent Keith Peacock side inexplicably lost 7-1 in the pouring rain. Before that it had been 7-0 at Barrow in October 1961, although there were mitigating circumstances with the team missing the train and having to charter a plane and flying up to Blackpool. But there didn’t seem to be much hiding place for a 7-0 defeat at Shrewsbury. It had been a pleasant sunny day instead of pouring rain, and travel had been by luxury coach rather than with air sickness bags and charging around Morecambe Bay at sixty miles per hour in taxis. Quite simply Shrewsbury was a performance that stank the place out.

Whether going to Aldershot to lick the wounds was the best remedy was debatable. The Recreation Ground had been the scene of another disaster from the past – the 6-0 defeat after Christmas 1987 that saw Keith Peacock controversially sacked. Before this game the local firms and Gate 13 Gills Youth had a meet, causing the Hampshire plod to round up them and goodness knows how many other bystanders under some terrorist legislation and ship them out on the 3.23 to Waterloo (even those who had come by car). The Zimmer Boys quietly hid behind their colostomy bags and quaffed their Spitfire Ale, keeping quiet about the fact that one or two of them had ASBO’s.

Blimey, Big Mac might have had one too the way he launched himself like an Exocet into the Shots’ keeper. Most people amazingly thought it was a fair challenge, but the referee certainly didn’t and the FA Disciplinary Panel agreed with him when Gillingham appealed. Down to ten men after a quarter of an hour, and although Gills battled gamely and even equalised, they finished up going down 2-1.

Then it was another dreadfully turgid encounter at Priestfield, this time against Port Vale, who were just shocking. But at least Gillingham won 1-0, and as September drew to a close, despite the Shrewsbury belting they were in eighth place, only gonged out of a play-off spot by a rotten goal difference. Next up was Exeter on Saturday 4th October, where Gills haven’t won for 48 years, but maybe at last this would be the golden moment.

They’re clapped out, cynical, irreverent, and it’s best not to get down-wind of ‘em. They long for a return to the good old days – when going to an away game meant a good laugh, a good punch-up, plenty of booze, a bit of rumpy-pumpy if your luck was in – oh, and a win for the Gills.

The new series covers their exploits last season, as The Zimmer Boys on Tour recounts their adventures in Season 2008-2009.

Into The Jaws Of Hell: Summer 2008

The punch-up in the back of the van on the way home from Leeds had probably relieved the tension from what had been a dreadful four months since that encouraging 3-1 win at Huddersfield. When we reached the caff at the Newport Pagnell services everyone had sat glowering at each other, but then grunting had started when someone asked for the sugar and we were all more or less mates again by the time we got back to Kent.

Lets face it, we were stuck with relegation and we’d just have to make the best of it. Stimson wasn’t going to fall on his sword, and Scally wasn’t going to sack him ‘cos we were broke and we couldn’t afford to pay him off. We’d just have to hope he could kick this bone-idle shower into line, ditch the duds, get the rest of ‘em fit and organised and start winning some games, especially away from home. He certainly rattled the hen-coop when he announced that they were all coming back for pre-season training on 1st June. Blimey – that would sort the “yes boss” types from the bolshie “get stuffed” types who wanted to go on their holidays. It’ll be the Costa Del Folkestone permanently for the latter, that’s for sure.

Dunno about the rest of the Boys but by Tuesday 6th May I was slowly beginning to mellow a bit about the Fourth Division, or Coca Cola League Two to give it its latest trendy name. Sure there were places to visit that made you shudder like Macclesfield and Morecambe, but then there were places like Chester, Lincoln, Shrewsbury and Exeter that appealed to culture vultures and lovers of fine architecture like our goodselves. And then there was dear old Accrington Stanley (who are they?). We’d no longer be some of the dwindling band that could say we’d seen the Gills play them. Now we’d be joined by the likes of those young bucks from the Gate 13 Gills Youth Firm, who might even have a meet there.

And then there was that good old summer standby – cricket, glorious cricket. Only it rained a lot, and we sat in the pavilion at the St Lawrence Ground day after day watching the rain bounce off the wicket covers. The only thing that cheered us up was thinking of Stimmo’s personal fitness guru Danny Ellis putting the footballers through yet another gruelling commando-quivering June routine as it pelted down. Then, just after lunch one day, and as we were sinking yet another pint of Shepherd Neame’s finest Spitfire Ale, the pavilion steward barked at us “You Zimmer Boys – sitting around here all day boozing and making the place look untidy. Why don’t you go and help the mummers rehearse their Shakespeare?”

Eh? It turned out that as part of the Canterbury Festival, this group of medieval actors were putting on a tableau of Shakespeare’s plays in the Archbishop’s garden, and they were doing their rehearsals in the cricket school. It sounded quite fun, so we wandered over to offer them the benefits of our considerable thespian abilities. We were immediately confronted by a bloke who had a Stimmo hairdo, tight blue jeans and a purple mohair sweater, and turned out to be the director. “Mmm, Zimmer Boys you say? Different. Grab some scripts, put on some of our mummers’ jester gear – it’ll fit over your colostomy bag sweetie – and then let’s get down to it.”

Old Blow a sweetie? Hmm, not sure about this. They were doing some dark stuff, with stabbings and bodies everywhere. Troilus and Cressida, Macbeth, Henry the Sixth Part Three, Julius Caesar. And our problem was that when we got into it, the football kept breaking into our lines. Like when Macbeth is contemplating giving King Duncan a good stabbing “Is this the Fourth Division which I see before me?” And in Henry the Sixth when the poor old king gets it in the Tower “Down, down to hell and say Stimmo sent thee thither” And in Julius Caesar, when they all get stuck in “speak hands for me” “Et tu, Brute?” and all that, Len Catheter intoned “and at the foot of Ken Bates’ statue, Great Scally fell”. Then someone stabbed him up the arras – no hang on that was Hamlet.

The Director bloke got quite shirty. “Look, Zimmer Boys, luvs – you just simply MUST keep to the Bard’s scripts. We just CANNOT have your terrace riff-raff behaviour intruding into our performance.” He even stamped his foot. “Terrace riff-raff?” Forget it, sunshine. We walked. And so last summer the Archbishop of Canterbury was robbed of a stunning Zimmer Boys’ Shakespearian performance in his rose garden.

Mind you, the performances from the new look super-fit Stimmo army as they romped around the Garden of England weren’t much to write home about. A 1-0 home defeat by Stevenage, a 2-0 one by Birmingham, a 1-0 defeat at Dover and a 2-1 defeat for a Gillingham XI at Folkestone sort of got explained away by thumping Faversham 8-0. And when they “crossed the water” which in our cash strapped times means the Thames, we got wins at Aveley (where?) Thurrock and the 1-0 defeat at Grays, which was more of a belting than the score suggested.

Fans persevered because they wanted to say that they had actually seen our new signing Big Mac. Mark McCammon was Stimmo’s secret weapon from Doncaster Rovers, all 6 foot 5 of him, and he’d got a three year deal. But he’d been on the treatment table for most of the summer so no-one had actually seen him in a Gillingham shirt. But they had seen Gary The Goal Machine. Our old mate was nothing if not resilient. Stimmo had sacked him once, but he had got some clause in his contract that said that if he couldn’t get fixed up elsewhere Gillingham had got to take him back. We wish we’d have had something like that when the Yard closed.

And so we came to the first game of the season, at Bournemouth on 9th August. A very un-Boringmouth day. It rained hard, it was quite cold, and some of the fans got stuck in traffic jams around the New Forest and missed the first half. They missed Darren Anderton putting the Cherries ahead with a bit of silky skill, but they were all present and correct when we scored our first goal of the season, always a landmark. And it was Gary The Goal Machine that swept in a volley in injury time to grab us a point. Blimey, that sacking had done the trick. Maybe Stimmo should use it as standard club policy.

Onwards to two home games – and back to earth. A 1-0 defeat by Colchester in the Carling Cup was bad enough, a 1-0 home defeat by Luton, to a third minute goal, was just awful. Luton of course were pretty much relegated before the season started after being zapped a 30 point deduction for financial irregularities, they’d lost most of their players and a couple of weeks previously they had been signing practically anyone they could find. But they presented as a coherent unit that knew what they were about, as opposed to Gillingham who, after all the pre-season hype, ran around like a bunch of headless chickens. And the fans were not best pleased.

As ever, a mastery of diversionary tactics kicked in. It was all the fault of someone sitting in the stands who wouldn’t come in the dressing room after the game, and had his meals on his own. Yes, really! Who could that be? Us Zimmer Boys had our suspicions, and we nodded sagely when someone went down the A2 in an easterly direction. And then there was a strange incident that we witnessed in a hotel restaurant on the morning of the game at Accrington, which will be recounted later in this chronicle.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves. With the team in early season disarray next up on Saturday 23rd August was the long trek to Darlington, last season’s losing play-off finalists.

Sunderland v Gillingham – Sunday May 17th 1987

It looked as though Gillingham had blown it again. For the third season running they had worked themselves into a great position to strike out for an automatic promotion place, only to have a poor run of form during late February/March and be left with an uphill and ultimately unsuccessful game of catch-up in the final weeks of the season.

But this season, 1986/87, there was a second chance saloon – the reintroduction of the play-offs. These were a Victorian/Edwardian idea where the lower division side had to prove themselves worthy of higher status by meeting and beating the bottom team in the higher division. We’d successfully partaken of one such “test match” in the Southern League in 1895. This modern equivalent was a sop to clubs initially denied promotion To adjust the top division of 22 clubs down to 20 over two seasons a cascade of more clubs relegated than promoted was needed, so to give the unlucky ones a chance to progress they could “play off” with each other to decide the fewer promotion slots. And by involving a side in the higher division there was a chance that the higher side could save themselves from relegation.

For Gillingham in the Third Division it meant that whereas previously the top three clubs had been automatically promoted, and the bottom three from the Second Division had been automatically relegated, now it would be just the top two/bottom two automatically promoted/relegated. The clubs finishing third, fourth and fifth in the Third Division, and the side finishing third from bottom in the Second Division would be paired together in a knockout contest, until one emerged to either be promoted or stave off relegation. For Gillingham the fourth-placed finish in 1984/85, or the fifth-placed finish in 1985/86 would now mean a play-off place and possible promotion, rather than a hard luck story.

With a better chance overall, it would be typical Gillingham to blow it earlier, and that’s what we looked like doing. The six games in February had delivered a disappointing four points from one win and one draw, and March looked like being the usual, starting with a turgid 0-0 home draw with Port Vale. And it got worse the following week when half-time news came through that we were 2-0 down at bottom club Carlisle United. Goodness knows what manager Keith Peacock said in the dressing room, but the team came out in the second half and romped to a 4-2 win with goals from Howard Pritchard, Tony Cascarino and two from Dave Shearer. Then two home wins, 4-1 against Darlington and 2-1 against league leaders Bournemouth made it nine points in a week and put the Gills right up in the frame with 11 games to go.

It was now a question of slugging it out with the rest. Bournemouth and Middlesbrough were beginning to break away in the two automatic places, but the three play-off places were up for grabs between Notts County, Swindon, Gillingham, Bristol City and Wigan. In the next ten games Gills won four, drew two and lost four. With those 14 points the top of the table before the last round of matches on Saturday May 9th 1987 looked as follows:-

Bournemouth and Middlesbrough were promoted, Swindon and Wigan were in the play-offs, with the remaining place, to play the side who finished third bottom in the Second Division, between Bristol City (favourites) Notts County and Gillingham (outsiders). The three games these clubs were involved in were Bristol City v Swindon, York City v Notts County and Gillingham v Bolton Wanderers. With a weaker goal difference Gillingham’s equation was simple – they had to win, and hope the other two didn’t.

The Only Thing We Know Is There’s Going To Be A Show – Saturday May 9th 1987

The Gillingham fans didn’t appear to have much faith. The average gate that season had crawled back up to just under 5,000, but only an additional 500 on top of that turned up for this do or die effort on a beautifully sunny Saturday afternoon in May. Many brought transistor radios, for the events at York and Bristol were just as important as what was going on at Priestfield. Bolton needed to win too. They were fourth from bottom and faced the play-offs to stave off being relegated to the Fourth Division.

Our team was:-
(4-2-4) Phil Kite; Paul Haylock, Les Berry, Colin Greenall, Irvin Gernon; Trevor Quow, Karl Elsey; Howard Pritchard, Steve Lovell, Tony Cascarino, David Smith. Sub – Dave Shearer.

Keith Peacock was going for it, no messing. Howard Pritchard, Steve Lovell, Dave Smith and Tony Cascarino were all included in an attacking formation, with Karl Elsey and Trevor Quow driving them on from midfield. Gills swarmed around the Gillingham End goal from the start, and the chances soon started to come. Bolton’s goal led a bit of a charmed life, and their keeper made some brilliant saves as Tony Cascarino, Dave Smith and Karl Elsey peppered him with shots. Surely it wasn’t going to be one of those days, yet again. Then, with four minutes to go to half-time Paul Haylock’s free kick out on the right found Tony at the far post. He rose above the keeper’s desperate lunge, and looped a header into the net. Gills had the priceless lead. Now what was going on elsewhere?

Half-time Brought mixed news. York and Notts County were drawing 0-0, Bristol City had the lead against Swindon at Ashton Gate. The second half was a much tamer affair than the first. Gills played to ensure they didn’t make a mistake and concede a goal, and Bolton knew that the half-time scores had done for them in their attempt to escape the drop. But the scores vital to Gillingham’s hopes just wouldn’t shift, and gloom started to descend.

Then, with about ten minutes to go, isolated groups of people all over the ground started shouting, waving and jumping about. The news spread like wildfire. Swindon had equalised. How ironic that Priestfield should celebrate so ecstatically a goal by our bitterest rivals. The news quickly spread to the players and they stepped it up about three gears, knowing that another Gills’ goal would put things beyond doubt. Then the radios gave out the news that York had scored and Bristol City had missed a penalty. The tension was getting unbearable. Suddenly, with the referee looking at his watch, Dave Shearer, on as substitute, completely miskicked in front of an open goal. That would have been the icing on the cake, but the Gills were home 1-0. We’d got the win to take us to 78 points. Would it be enough?

Bolton trudged off dejected. They were definitely in the play-offs, but going the wrong way. In their semi-finals they lost to Aldershot, and were relegated to the Fourth Division for the first time in their history. The Gills retired to the dressing rooms to await their fate, and the crowd swarmed onto the field singing and chanting in front of the Main Stand. Anyone who had a transistor radio immediately had 50 friends. The deadly fight at the bottom of the Second Division was resolved first. West Bromwich Albion, Millwall, Shrewsbury, Huddersfield and Birmingham all got the results they needed to scramble clear. Sunderland 2, Barnsley 3 meant that, if we were through, it was going to be a clash with Sunderland in the semi-finals. Then York 1 Notts County 1. Yes! And finally, after an age, Bristol City 1 Swindon 1. That would do.

Oh yes, there was going to be a show all right. And we KNEW that Gillingham would be there !!

Cometh The Hour, Cometh The Man – Thursday May 14th 1987

The first leg of Gillingham’s play-off semi-final against Sunderland was on Thursday, May 14th. A match on a Thursday was almost unheard of, and there was no time to get any tickets printed. It was show your season ticket and pay on the night in the Main Stand, everywhere else was pay at the gate. A crowd of 13,804 turned up, nearly three times the average gate, and the Rainham End was full to bursting such that they had to close the gates fifteen minutes before kick-off. Gillingham had only ever once played Sunderland before – the historic occasion in January 1908 when as New Brompton they had turned Sunderland over 3-1 in the FA Cup with a hat-trick from Charlie McGibbon. It still stood as the only occasion when New Brompton/Gillingham had beaten a club from the top flight.

Sunderland weren’t top flight now of course. They were desperately trying to hang on to their record of never having played in other than the top two divisions. Things had gone badly wrong on Wearside. Two years previously they’d brought in Lawrie McMenemy from Southampton as manager, in a blaze of publicity. He’d spent big in an attempt to bring back Sunderland’s former glories. Most of his big-time signings had flopped disastrously. A few weeks earlier McMenemy had resigned, and their legendary manager Bob Stokoe had returned. Stokoe had masterminded the Mackems’ epic FA Cup win in 1973, beating Revie’s Leeds in the Final. If anyone could save Sunderland, he could. Even though they were the bigger club, the national sympathy vote was with Sunderland and Stokoe. Gillingham were just unknown small-fry to be brushed aside.

The Gills took the field to a tremendous ovation.

Our team was:-
(4-2-4) Phil Kite; Paul Haylock, Les Berry, Colin Greenall, Irvin Gernon; Trevor Quow, Karl Elsey; Howard Pritchard, Dave Shearer, Tony Cascarino, David Smith. Sub – Steve Lovell.

The first half was played at a frantic pace. The Gills attacked the Gillingham End, and had the better of things in terms of possession, but their crosses and final passes were being over-hit. Sunderland had a rock-solid central defender in Gary Bennett, but the rest of his defenders were pretty quick to resort to fouling and clogging. There was a distinct air of desperation and panic about them, and it looked as though Gillingham had their measure.

Then, after twenty-eight minutes, disaster struck. Sunderland’s first corner of the game wasn’t properly cleared, and Sunderland’s Corner hit a shot that beat Phil Kite and was handled on the line. An obvious penalty, and Mark Proctor buried it deep into the corner. It was a hammer blow, and the Gills lost their way a little going towards half-time. The Mackems continued to soak it up, and dish it out with some cynical fouling and reached half-time still holding their lead.
But the Gills had Tony Cascarino, and on this vital night in our history, he played the game of his life. Three minutes into the second half, he burst through the middle, was driven wide to the left by the impressive Bennett, but from an acute angle got in a cross-come-shot which looped over keeper Iain Hesford and fell just inside the far post. Priestfield erupted. Gillingham were level, and Sunderland’s game plan of containment needed a rethink.

The pendulum now swung hard towards the Gills. With Dave Smith and Howard Pritchard leading the charge down either wing, they poured forward and Sunderland were foundering. The pandemonium inside the ground was clearly getting to them and they were giving away free-kick after free-kick in their growing panic to keep Gillingham out. Irvin Gernon was cynically taken out by David Swindlehurst as he backed up one attack. That should have meant a sending off for the Sunderland man, but the referee was lenient. Steve Lovell came on as substitute for Gernon, which increased the Gills’ attacking options but left them a bit short at the back.

After nearly twenty minutes of this barrage, Sunderland cracked. Dave Smith marauded down the left again and Hesford could only palm out his curling cross from the bye-line. It went straight to Tony Cascarino, and he buried it. 2-1 to the Gills! Six minutes later came the moment of magic. Howard Pritchard was down the right, and he jinked the ball inside. It went straight to Tony Cascarino close in. He swung his boot and leathered it, straight into the corner. Nearly 14,000 people inside Priestfield went completely and utterly barmy. It felt as though the place was going to shake to pieces. Gillingham were 3-1 up thanks to a fabulous hat-trick from Cas, the Promised Land was close enough to touch and some of their opponents were visibly packing it in. Fill yer boots Gills, surely!

In the dug-out Sunderland legend Bob Stokoe was beside himself with rage over the attitude of some of his players, and from somewhere they conjured up an attack that sent Gillingham into a blind panic. Phil Kite had to make a point blank save and concede a corner, and from it the dangerous Proctor swept into the box unmarked and drilled it home, the ball taking a wicked deflection on the way. 3-2, and that’s how it finished. Now fans began to appreciate the agony and the ecstasy of the play-offs. From being home and dry, Gillingham just had a slender one-goal lead to take to Roker Park three days later.

The Greatest Game in History – Sunday May 17th 1987

Although a goal lead was not a particularly favourable position for Gillingham, it was pretty clear that Sunderland were on Desperation Row. Their Chairman had been disgusted at what he saw as their capitulation at Priestfield, and there was chest-beating that they would be the first Sunderland side ever to be relegated to the Third Division if they failed to beat Gillingham. The ticket prices to get into Roker Park were slashed to ensure that they would get a full house to get behind the lads. The famous Roker Roar was being mobilised to overpower Little Gillingham – not that many Sunderland fans even knew where Little Gillingham actually was, so low were the Gills on their football radar.

There were 25,470 inside Roker Park. All around there were people chanting their diehard allegiance and waving banners and flags. At one end was the massive Fulwell End, which wound up the Roker Roar, amplified by the huge roof above it. At the opposite end were open terraces behind the goal, where about 2,000 Gills’ fans were corralled into a corner at the left. There appeared to be about 500 Gills’ fans under the Clock Stand, but on closer inspection they were Newcastle fans who had appointed themselves honorary Gills’ fans for the day, desperate to see their bitter rivals relegated to the oblivion of Division Three. All in all, over 90% of the crowd expecting to see the Gills put to the sword. To go into battle in this cauldron, Keith Peacock brought in left-back Graham Pearce for the injured Irvin Gernon, and made a tactical change bringing in Mark Weatherly for Dave Shearer, Sheiky dropping down to the bench. Clearly a move to strengthen our defence, and Mark’s cool head would be much needed.

Gills attacked the Fulwell End in the first half, and kicked off into a wall of sound. It looked as though Keith had told them to keep possession as much as possible early on, which they did. After three minutes, in their frustration Sunderland gave away a free kick on the left of their box. Dave Smith chipped it over the wall, found Howard Pritchard on the far post, and he headed Gillingham in front, and two ahead on aggregate. The Gills could not have had a better start. Roker was stunned and for the next ten minutes Gills stroked the ball about with growing confidence. Then almost as if he was conducting a symphony orchestra, manager Stokoe was on the touchline waving his arms about, the Roar kicked in again and their players suddenly found their rhythm. Gillingham were caught by surprise, were uncertain whether to keep their pattern or go back on defence, and were very nearly swamped.

With eighteen minutes gone forward Eric Gates, looking suspiciously offside, broke clear and gave Kite no chance with a low shot. That racked things up on and off the field, and Gillingham were taken apart again five minutes later when a centre from the right found Gates at the far post and his downward header just crept over the line. That squared the tie at 4-4, and with Sunderland having two away goals to Gills’ one, it meant serious trouble.

The Gills clung on against an ever more furious onslaught. Mark Weatherly was injured fending off one attack, and had to be replaced by Dave Shearer. Whilst they were striving to regroup, another Sunderland broadside hit after thirty minutes. Gates hooked the ball for a certain goal just inside the post, and Paul Haylock punched it off the line. Penalty! Up stepped Mark Procter, who had beaten Phil Kite so comprehensively from the spot at Priestfield three days before. This time he put it too near the keeper, Kite beat it away and for a few seconds there was mad panic in the box until Les Berry hacked the ball away. Gillingham rode that out, and slowly pulled the game back onto an even keel going towards half time. Both sides had gone at it hammer and tongs, and everyone, including the nerve-racked spectators, needed a breather.

Going into the second half Sunderland had the advantage. If there was no more scoring, and after half hour’s extra time, Sunderland would go through. The Gills had to make something happen, and ten minutes into the second half they did. Howard Pritchard raced into the box, and was brought down. Penalty! It took some nerve for the referee to give a penalty in those circumstances, but he didn’t hesitate. He had been scrupulously fair to both sides throughout, and had a superb game overall. It was a golden chance for Gillingham.

There were several players who could have taken the kick – Tony Cascarino, Dave Shearer, Karl Elsey, Dave Smith – but Colin Greenall took it, and he missed. He hit it almost exactly as Procter had hit his. Hesford beat the penalty kick out, but it rebounded straight to Greenall. His second shot was blocked by a defender, and rebounded out to Howard Pritchard cutting in from the right. There was chaos all over the box as Pritchard hit a low centre. Someone barged Tony Cascarino in the back, and as he fell he was in a perfect position on his hands and knees to dive forward and head the ball into the net past two defenders lunging for it on the line. 2-2, and 5-4 to the Gills on aggregate. With strokes of luck like that, surely it was going to be Gills’ day.

Maybe Sunderland fans thought so. As Gillingham regrouped again to negotiate the final half hour, the Roker Roar was now a mere whisper. The fans who had been cheering so passionately at the start of the game sat slumped in their seats, many of them close to tears. The Gills were now playing magnificently. Two lines of four stood firm against everything Sunderland threw in their increasing panic, and up front for us Cas and Sheiky Shearer were looking deadly dangerous. Three or four times they worked an opening, but each time Sunderland’s creaky defence somehow blocked them out. Another Gillingham goal would have emptied the ground.

As the game entered the final minutes Sunderland abandoned every pretence of shape and tactics. It was just pile forward and hope for a chance. The Gills and their fans were being tested to the limit. There was agony as a header from Bertschin looped over Kite’s clawing hands, but relief came when Graham Pearce appeared on the far post to firmly kick it off the line, almost like a teaching professional. Now there were a couple of minutes left, and the Fulwell End was beginning to empty. Everybody knew that Sunderland were now right down the throat of the Third Division, and the jaws were closing behind them.

With two minutes to go an almost aimless hoof into the area saw central defender Gary Bennett ghost past Colin Greenall to get his head on it. Phil Kite was too far off his line. The ball looped over him, and dropped under the bar. Sunderland had saved themselves. Their players went mad and their crowd went mad, while Gillingham players slumped to the ground in complete and utter despair. The whistle went for full time soon after, that was how near they’d come.

Now they had to face up to one of the most thunderous barrages to come off of a football crowd. It made the hairs on the back of the neck stand on end. Bob Stokoe was out on the pitch in his traditional track-suit and brown trilby hat, milking the crowd to make one last effort to scream Sunderland home. Keith Peacock, wearing a trench coat and a natty check cap was urging his troops on too, but he must have feared, as every fan wearing blue and white did, that we were going to get slaughtered. All over the country, radio stations were tuning in to take the feeders as Sunderland battled to preserve their glorious history. None of these media luvvies gave a thought that this Gillingham side was battling for a place in our history too.

Gills had the luck to win the toss, and chose to defend the Fulwell End in the first period. This would deny Sunderland their backing at the death. Almost immediately from the kick-off Gillingham won the ball, and played it around, giving themselves a chance to settle and regroup.

This was good stuff. They started to push forward. Sunderland started to look nervous again. After three minutes Karl Elsey’s deep cross from the right wing found Tony Cascarino at the far post. Time froze as he steadied himself and guided the ball through lunging bodies and a flapping keeper and into the net. It was Cas’ second of the match, and an incredible fifth of the tie. He knew he might have won it for the Gills. He wheeled away to the left and celebrated wildly in front of the 2,000 Gills’ fans erupting on the terraces.

It slowly sank in that with the scores now 3-3 on the day, Gills had the third away goal that Sunderland couldn’t match. There would be no penalty shoot out at the end if the scores were level on aggregate. Gills had a priceless 6-5 lead. Tony’s goal counted double in the event of a draw on aggregate. Sunderland must score twice or they were relegated.

Sunderland looked done for almost from the restart. Their attacks came to nothing, the Fulwell End was stunned, and Gillingham were more than comfortable throughout the first period. In the second period, they started to get edgy again and started misplacing our passes. With ten minutes left and some of our defenders beginning to look tired, no-one picked up Bertschin and he headed in a centre. Sunderland were now 4-3 ahead and it was 6-6 on aggregate. Oh No! Not again! Come on, Gillingham!! COME ON!!!

With five minutes to go Bertschin bundled into Phil Kite, and fists started flying. It looked like Phil threw the first punch, and we could easily have had a penalty against us or our keeper sent off, or both. Fortunately, the referee calmed everyone down, booked Kite and Bertschin, and that was it. There were no further recriminations.

Gills now thought that the best way to survive to the glory-point was to hoof the ball as high and as hard as they could to the far corners of the Sunderland half, and make them waste valuable seconds having to go and get it. It was effective but risky, giving possession back to Sunderland for them to advance again. With minutes to go one of these calculated forward hoofs was miscued, and it put Dave Smith clean through the middle. Surely this was the clinching moment. Dave had a pile-driver shot and acres of space to set himself up. With only Hesford, standing forlornly at the edge of his area, to beat Dave went for power and glory – and missed. The ball soared into the Fulwell End. It was quickly back in play, and Sunderland were at Gillingham’s throat again.

Suddenly, it was all over. Players in red and white stripes sank to their knees in despair, supporters were slumped in their seats or on the terraces, and many were crying openly with the emotion of it all, unable to grasp what had happened to their team. Sunderland had won 4-3, but for them it was the most worthless victory in their history. They were in the Third Division for the first time ever.

But for the Gills it was a moment of utter joy and relief. There were delirious scenes on and off the field, with the Newcastle fans joining in with Gillingham’s players and fans. Gillingham had lost on the day, but scoring three away goals in the 6-6 aggregate had put them through to the play-off finals. The game had swung every which way, soared in hope, plunged into despair, and shredded the nerves of everyone who had watched or listened to it.

And in the end the Gills had emerged triumphant from the greatest game in history.