They Were The Best Years of Our Lives

Real Footballers' Wives — Norma Vernon

There were little benches behind the goals for the kids at Ewood Park in those days and my sister and me would sit over the wall and watch the game. With my Dad being a market trader, we didn't get to go very often, but when we did, we really enjoyed it.

Blackburn was a huge, bustling market town back then and one of the biggest events of the year was the Easter Fair. The fairground was set up right in the town centre on the square; it was so exciting and the whole town would turn out to go on the rides. I was 17 and went with my friend Marion. Roy was with his friend Pete; they spotted us, made their way over and paid for us to go on the speedway. What struck me about Roy was his confidence; he was by far the most confident boy I'd ever met in my life.

I didn't realise it at the time, but Roy had seen me before. I'd left school a year earlier and started work in the offices at the Gas Board where I was trying to learn shorthand typing. He was in the youth team at Rovers but was sent to technical college because he still had to finish his education. His lodgings were in Darwen - a bit further on from where I lived, so we used to catch the same bus home.

He came from a little Welsh mining town called Ffynnongroew and went home to see his family for the close season but we met again in the September at King George's dance hall - everybody went there on a Saturday evening. I think it was the day he made his debut for Blackburn's first team and he came up and asked me to dance. When the dance was over, he just kept hold of my hand. As far as he was concerned, I was his girlfriend and that was that. He never really let go of me again.

My parents were market traders doing house clearances and selling antiques, and they brought my sister and I up to be very independent and to learn about life as we went along. They worked hard and thought that sending us to a decent school would make up for the time they didn't have to spend with us. I was five and my sister, Liz, was seven when we started at the Catholic convent and we stayed until we were 16. Our parents were very quiet people and were happy with anybody we brought home as long as they were decent and respectable.

Roy had four sisters and he was his mum's pride and joy. She didn't want us to get married because he wasn't 21 until the April and it meant she would have to sign for him. I got on well with her so it wasn't that she disapproved or didn't like me but she'd been the same with her daughters, she just had a thing about signing them away. It was only a matter of two months, so it was a bit strange, but she refused point blank and his father had to give his permission instead.

Roy was Church of England, which didn't help matters, but he was taking instruction so he could change religion. The parish priest was a Rovers supporter so every time he went for his lessons they just ended up talking about the match, and by the time he was supposed to have learned all his religious instruction, he hadn't done anything at all. The priest asked if he really wanted to become a Catholic or if he was just doing it so he could marry me. Roy confessed and the priest just said, “Then be a good man in your own religion”, and that was it.

It was a bitterly cold day when we got married in February 1958. It was a Monday because it was during the season but, as fate would have it, Rovers had drawn in a Cup game on the Saturday so the replay was on the Wednesday night and he had to be back at training the next day.

Liz and two of Roy's sisters were our bridesmaids, my brother was our best man and one of Roy's best friends was an usher. His parents came up from Wales and we had a big white wedding and our reception in the High Lawn Hotel in Darwen, Blackburn. All the press came because Roy was an established player by then. It didn't bother me but my father was very apprehensive because he was so shy and quiet so I felt quite sorry for him. My mum took things in her stride, but Dad didn't like a fuss.

We went to Blackpool for our honeymoon and stayed overnight at the Butlins Metropole hotel. We didn't have a car so we got the train back on the Tuesday morning and Roy went off to the training ground.

Rovers were playing Wolverhampton the day my first boy, Mark, was born in January 1959. Because it wasn't very far away, the team usually travelled on the Saturday morning, but the forecast was for fog and they decided they would have to go the night before and stay over. The baby was overdue so I went to my mum's and, of course, I went into labour. Roy rang at lunchtime and I'd left instructions to tell him I'd gone shopping. I didn't want him to know I'd gone into hospital in case he worried and it distracted him from his game. I needn't have bothered because they got beat 5-0 that day.

He got home from the Midlands at about 11 o clock and went straight to my sister's to pick me up but I'd already had the baby and was in hospital. He was annoyed with me for not telling him because he'd got off the bus early and had to walk home and he didn't even have anybody to share his news with.

The manager at Rovers was Johnny Carey and he said Blackburn should never part with Roy. When Johnny moved to Everton, he went back and got him. I think Everton had rejected Roy when he was a schoolboy because he was so small and slight, but he grew taller when he was about 15. He was very wiry and muscular, and stood about 5ft-10in but he looked taller because he was so slim and strong. He was like whipcord.

When we moved to Everton we lived in a three-bedroom semi-detached in Ridgeway Drive in Lydiate. Bert Slater, the Liverpool goalkeeper, lived across the road and Ron Yeats, the Liverpool captain, was around the corner so we were surrounded by good friends and had a great support network. It wasn't too bad for me because I was quite close to Blackburn, so if Roy went away for any long spells I would go home to my parents. I never used to ask if I could go, I would just announce that I'd be there the next day and mum took it all in her stride although she had four foster children at the time.

Everton were always good to us. Blackburn was only a small club and Everton was enormous in comparison. The first Christmas, Roy came home with a hamper full of goodies, a turkey, mince pies and a Christmas pudding and inside the hamper was a Stratton powder compact for me. It was a lovely surprise.

 I remember Roy phoning me up when they'd gone to Honolulu on a tour and I was in tears on the phone because I was pregnant and a bit weepy. He said: ‘There's no point in me ringing if you're going to cry.' I used to miss him so much when he was away but I think it was my hormones making me upset.

 He had a sardonic sense of humour; he had a quick tongue and was very temperamental and feisty. If we ever had a row it was quickly over, I always knew he didn't mean it and that it was just his ‘Welsh' way. He would be making me laugh the very next minute.

 My second son, Neil, was born in October 1960. I was due and Roy was playing for Wales in Cardiff. He didn't want me to be on my own so he arranged for me to stay overnight with another player, Micky Lill and his wife Paddy. Jimmy Gabriel was a lodger with them and he was away playing for Scotland at the same time. They travelled back overnight and got home in the early hours. Roy got into bed and a little while later I felt the first twinges. I woke him up and told him the baby was starting, he said, “Could you not just have another couple of hours sleep? I'm shattered.” He didn't panic at all.

 We got up and Jimmy was there, grinning all over his face. He was so excited because he was going to be the godfather. Paddy and Micky Lill were great; they looked after Mark for me while I went in. Mark was only 20 months old at that time. When you've got no relatives nearby it's quite isolated, but football communities all rally round and help each other.

I was so happy when Jimmy met Pat; they were so well suited. She was a Liverpool girl and she met Jimmy on a blind date through another team-mate, Bobby Collins. We went to their wedding and they're still together to this day.

 Nancy Young was my best friend. They were in a hotel when they first arrived so when Alex and Roy went training she would come round and help me look after the boys. She always said I couldn't cook very well and we would survive on tomato soup or egg on toast. I was only married 11 months before I had Mark and I was pregnant with Neil when we moved to Lydiate so it was all very sudden and I had to learn quickly.

 My boys were mischievous, they used to call the eldest one ‘Fingers' because he had a really inquiring mind; he had to know how everything worked. I remember him letting Ron Yeats's tyres down once on a match day. My boys could be a bit of a handful at times.

 I went to most of the games to watch Roy play, especially at Goodison Park. I think Wolverhampton beat Everton 2-0 on his debut but I remember Johnny Carey telling me how pleased he was with Roy's performance. We didn't get any special treatment as wives, but we did get a ticket for the match. We would stand outside in the street like everybody else waiting until we could go in though.

 I was fortunate that I had brilliant neighbours and babysitters. I was so grateful about that. The people next door were absolutely great and we had a good friendship. My babysitter lived round the corner and I would take the boys there on a Saturday lunchtime so I could go to the game and she would bring them back on Sunday morning. Her name was Mrs Johnson but we called her Aunty Ann.

Saturday nights out were our big treat and we'd all go to the Royal Tiger Club or the Pink Parrot, but the Tiger Club was our favourite. It was during The Beatles heyday so it was all ‘Twist and Shout' and the Merseybeat sound. I wasn't used to going to nightclubs and one of the first times we went it was about 11 o clock at night and everybody started panicking and running around. We were downstairs and there was a right old commotion. I thought it was some kind of a raid like in the films, but it was because somebody's wife had turned up and her husband was in there with his girlfriend, so they had to usher this woman out.

Because Roy was the Everton captain I was once asked to open a table at a casino. Roy told them it was a bad idea because I've got no coordination — I'm left handed so when I threw the dice, one of them went up in the air and the other one went somewhere else. I think they're still looking for it now.

Roy wasn't superstitious at all, he was super-confident. He had his own way of doing things and his own mind. One of his sayings was, ‘You eat to live; you don't live to eat'. He didn't have a big appetite and he smoked like a trooper so I don't suppose that helped but what he ate was good food. He'd have steak and egg or boiled ham and tomato and some nice bread. He was a meat eater but he only ate dainty little portions. If you put a huge plateful of food in front of him it would overwhelm him and put him off. He was naturally slim and slightly built but he was a hard worker; he trained really hard and he was as tough as old boots.

 He was the only man who could smoke in the shower. He would sit in the bath washing his hair and have a cigarette in his mouth and it never got wet — I don't know how he did it. I think his smoking was a nervous thing really; he didn't even seem to inhale he just puffed away. He would even have a cigarette in his hand as he ran down the tunnel and stub it out just before he got on the pitch.

 I've got a lot of photographs of him and he always seemed to be holding a cigarette. Even when we won the League in 1963 and he was getting presented with his medal he had one, so I imagine he had it secreted on his person, unless one of the fans had given it to him on the way up to the balcony.

 That was the best day ever and the best night too. The last match to clinch the title was against Fulham and Roy scored a hat-trick. It was the proudest moment of my life. For Roy to get three and to captain the team was just beyond belief. It was the absolute pinnacle of his career.

 As a special treat the Club took us all away for a fortnight in Torremolinos. It was almost unheard of to go to Spain back then and we felt so sophisticated. The hotel had just been built so there wasn't much to do beside lounge by the pool in the sun and eat nice food. There was a lot of building going on around us; the tourist industry was in its very early stages then. Alec Parker's wife, Jean, fell into an empty fountain and broke her leg so she was in plaster the whole time and that was right at the start of the holiday. And my suitcase got lost somewhere for the first two days — all the girls were in their swimsuits and I was wearing a dress! It was a beautiful hotel and we felt so privileged; we had the time of our lives.

 Roy was mad about horse racing. He would go to the races with Alex Young and when the Grand National was on we used to end up with all kinds of stable lads coming to stay with us. I didn't appreciate it very much at the time but that's the kind of man Roy was. I laugh about it now when I think back.

 We were very naà¯ve us wives — we were so young and innocent, they would often be at the races when we thought they were training. Roy and Alex were ‘men's men'; they liked that kind of companionship of the match and the horses. I've got a photograph of them both judging the Miss New Brighton beauty pageant. The girls are like beauty queens used to be, so glamorous in their one-piece swimsuits and Roy is so dark and broody while Alex is so fair — they were like chalk and cheese. They got on really well on and off the pitch and were great friends.

 The players were often taken away on ‘special-training weekends', which I think were just authorised drinking and bonding sessions. It didn't bother me too much because it was part of the job and if I did mind, I just had to get over it. I don't think any wives like to think of their men going away especially of you've got kids, but the perks of the job made up for that.

 I always had lovely clothes although I'm only 5ft tall so I could never buy anything off the peg. I would always have to have it altered. Roy would take me shopping in Blackpool and he liked me to dress nicely. I always had to have my hair done at the hairdressers. I remember doing it myself once and I came downstairs feeling quite proud of my creation. I asked Roy what he thought and he said, “Nice try, love, now go and book an appointment.” He liked me to look nice, I think all the lads took pride in their wives appearance.

 We'd moved to Stoke when my youngest son came along. It was July 1969 and Roy was away in America with the club. Maurice Setters's wife Kathy came and sat with me every single day so I wasn't alone and she was dying for the baby to be born. I was so overdue that she had to go on holiday and of course I went into labour almost immediately. Young Roy was born in the old North Staffordshire Hospital. One of the staff said if I'd have waited another month I could have gone to the new hospital instead.

Roy didn't make it to an FA Cup final. He left Blackburn and they made it to Wembley, he left Everton and they won the Cup and then he went to Stoke and after he left, they won the League Cup final. He played in the early rounds but it was never his destiny. All he won was his Everton Championship medal in 1962-3 and 32 Wales caps.

There was nothing I disliked about being a footballer's wife. We didn't get pestered that often and the people who did come and see us were usually very nice. I didn't like it when I was sitting in the stand watching the game and I would hear the fans shouting bad things at the lads... “Ooh, he's a dirty devil”, or “He's always like that.” I don't think they knew who we were, but it used to irritate me because I always thought Roy was a
fantastic player and I wanted to leap to his defence. 

None of my boys play football; they say they inherited my genes when it comes to co-ordination. Mark likes motorbikes, Neil plays golf and Roy likes to watch Rovers when he can, but he's in the retail trade so he's at work most Saturdays. They all blame me for their lack of sporting ability — but maybe it will skip a generation or two.

 I lost Roy in December 1993. His smoking finally caught up with him and he died of lung cancer. They'd found a tumour a couple of years earlier, so he had one lung removed and really believed he was getting better. I knew he wasn't because the doctors had told me, but I didn't want Roy to know. He asked if there was something I wasn't telling him and I said ‘no'. He told me that football had given him the best life he could ever have hoped for. He was from a mining village and by tradition he would have worked down the pit like his friends and his family. Instead he'd travelled, been to some of the most amazing cities in the world, made a good living and met some of the finest people. We had one last holiday together in Spain. Neither of us said a word but we both knew. He was 56 when I lost him. Jimmy Gabriel was the caretaker manager of Everton then and he came to the funeral with Colin Harvey, Nancy and Alex Young. Alec Parker and Fred Pickering were there too. It was a good turnout, he'd have been so proud.

 I've got six grandchildren and one great grandchild: they range from 27 to 1 but there's only one boy. When my little granddaughter was at primary school she had to do an essay about what made her proud. She wrote how her granddad had been a footballer. Jimmy Gabriel sent her the most marvellous letter praising Roy and saying how he was the best footballer he'd ever played with. She was only about 10 at the time and I was so happy.

Roy's memorabilia is in the Legends Bar at Goodison Park and I was invited over to the opening and another time one New Year. I took my son and his wife and we met Joe Royle, had something to eat there and went on a tour around the stadium. We had a lovely day.

I live back in Blackburn now and after Roy died I started going to Ewood Park again to watch Blackburn with my daughter-in-law for something to do and to give me an interest, but then my grandchildren started getting interested in ponies so they're down at the farm every weekend now. My son has a business and they have a few season tickets for the clients, so I still go occasionally if they're not being used.

I always look out for Everton's results and when they were struggling the other year and fighting relegation I was as anxious as anybody. When you've been there five years, there's a great bond. We both loved every minute of being at Everton; I suppose they were the best years of our lives. The people were brilliant, we had fantastic neighbours and made great friends. If Roy was here now he would say exactly the same.

Taken from Real Footballers' Wives — the First Ladies of Everton, still available for purchase in book or Kindle form
© Becky Tallentire 2004

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