Another footballing anecdote for you, and yet another which I didn't witness; coming indirectly via my brother Paul (he takes up the stories from when I was a dribbling, incoherent, crying thing lying in a cot......just to clarify, that means when I was a baby and not after a particularly wild night out, although come to think of it, with the exception of the cot.....).
Les Bradd - in his three years with County - became a legend. I've done a bit of research (well, googled his name....), and he scored 30 goals in just over 100 appearances for the club (hardly Ronaldo, but it's Stockport County we are talking about here). I have also tried to tell this story in greater detail (some parts are lacking, and for this I apologise, the basic facts are accurate though) by contacting Les himself; I thought I had him working in PR at Nottingham Forest FC, but he left there some time ago and has now fallen off the radar........
In one particular match, County had a promising young winger playing for us; early twenties with his whole footballing career in front of him. He had that free-flowing fearlessness of running at, beating, and generally making monkeys of opposing players, time and time again.
After some considerable time of monkey-making, one of the rival central defenders had clearly had enough of him. He went in, studs-up, in the air; connecting not with the ball, but the players shins. Although the dreadful foul took place across the width of the pitch from my brother (Paul), he still remembers the sound of tibia and fibula snapping; not pleasant to say the least. If that foul had happened these days it would be an instant sending off and a considerable ban; but incredibly the guy was let off with a caution. The home crowd were in uproar as the young lad was stetchered off.
Second half, and a throw-in; this time on Paul's side of the pitch. The now infamous and much maligned centre-back - not in the thick of the action at the time - was joined closely on the pitch by none other than Les Bradd. For some reason Paul cannot fathom, his eyes were drawn to them, rather than where the ball was. In a very simple, quick move, Les took a look at the linesman and referee; both of whose eyes were focused on the ball. In a blur of what was either elbow or back-of-fist; the centre-back was flattened, out cold.
Now, I don't know whether the referee saw anything or not; but noone was cautioned, noone was sent off, and the only person who left the pitch was the centre-back, still not quite with it as he staggered off saying 'it's not time to get up yet, is it Mummy?' (ok, I may be stretching the truth with that bit, but it would be funny wouldn't it??).
I am not aware of whether the young lad managed to play football again after breaking his leg; I will continue my research and if I ever get anywhere with filling in the blanks, I will update you on here.
The evolution of football gets much criticism; and I join the raised voices of people that find the wages of top-flight players nothing short of disgusting. One thing I am grateful for is that match officials now come down so much harder on bad tackles; removing the need for players like Les to take the law into their own hands (or elbows). It was great to have him around in those days though!
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