Where Is It? By Sheron Watson

Where is it ?

A photo was posted on Northampton Past.
A picture of where I am frightened to ask.
Welly Road or Kettering the debate lingers on
The location of a place from a time bygone.

There is mention of a chimney proving its place
But others they said it is mentioned in haste.
The roof’s are all wrong came another’s reply
It’s Welly Road I swear the resounding outcry.

Racecourse said another the houses were there.
They accommodated the police of that I swear.
The bend in the road confirms it’s Kettering.
Cannot see why you’d all find it so baffling

Look at the Tram it’s going to Kingsley
Cannot understand why you find it a mystery.
Just look at the shadows, they’ll confirm where
I will take a new photo for you all to compare



Tree’s by the Picturedrome, there isn’t the room
So it must be Welly Road, or so you’d assume
There were four house’s that stood on that spot
I will show you the map that confirms it you lot.

Can’t be Kettering their windows are curved
Welly’s are straight you must have observed
Look at the chimneys, they must have increased
On Welly they match and changes the least

From Mary to Frank and Ruth to Steve Kelly
The site took a vote and decided it’s Welly
So to all Northampton Past including our Lawrie
I am still not convinced, for that, I am sorry

ONE DAY IN MAY By Mick Cox

I don’t recall the type of weather we experienced on that particular day.

I do however remember a feeling of nervous excitement which started when I lay in bed, just prior to getting up.

For the previous five days we had been cruising on The Norfolk Broads, on holiday. Unbeknown to me the producers of a Radio Four programme had been trying to contact me. They apparently wanted to talk to me on a programme called (I believe) See Hear, a programme of news and features for listeners with sight problems. As the programme was being transmitted, we were travelling back to Northampton from Norwich.

We arrived home around teatime so that I could make some phone calls. The Cobblers were at Wembley the following day. Radio Nene Valley, Northamptons’ hospital radio service, was to become the first hospital radio station to provide a dedicated hospital commentary from Wembley Stadium. Not only that but we were going to be the first service to provide a specialist commentary for supporters in the stadium suffering with sight impediment. This was the reason the Radio 4 producers were keen to speak to us.

The landline for the hospital commentary was being sponsored by the Nationwide Building Society and was due to be connected by BT during the Friday afternoon. A couple of telephone calls soon told us that things were not quite running true. Somewhere along the road the order number for the job had “gone astray” and the land line had not been connected. Our contact at Nationwide, in Swindon, really went the extra mile and after he had been in touch with BT it was agreed that the connections would be completed on Saturday morning.

Saturday eventually came and the morning was spent decorating our car. Claret and white streamers were tied to the door mirrors and the cars’ radio aerial. Flags that had been given away by The Chronicle and Echo were stuck to the rear window and laid over the rear parcel shelf while a poster picture of the Cobblers was affixed between the flags in the centre of the rear window.

Jan had prepared some sandwiches for us to take for lunch. I keep saying “us” as our son Steve was my co-commentator. We were giving a lift to a friend and his son. We had decided to leave home around eleven o’clock to travel the sixty miles to the home of British football, the scene of over sixty F.A. Cup finals, the venue of Englands’ World Cup victory in 1966, the stadium that would bear witness to the Cobblers match against Swansea City in just a few short hours.

It turned out to be about a quarter past eleven when we left our home. The atmosphere was building, not only in the car but outside as well. People waved, who they were, I’ve no idea and it wasn’t just us that they waved at, any car bedecked in Claret and White was waved at. Traffic seemed particularly light travelling in the opposite direction. As we travelled along Park Avenue, more cars came into view, flags and streamers fluttering from their windows, mirrors and aerials, just like ours.

People in those vehicles waved to us, we acknowledged them. We waved to other cars, they acknowledged us. We were all making a pilgrimage to THAT place.

Park Avenue South, through Abington Park, the number of people waving increased and then decreased as we travelled into Rushmere Road, heading toward the motorway.

On through Brackmills and there it was, the first bridge and hanging from that bridge an enormous Union Flag with NTFC across the centre of the flag. The car went quiet. That was what you see when the big clubs are around, not us, not The Cobblers. We continued our journey and when we approached the bridge at Wootton there was another banner hanging from the parapet. Virtually all the cars heading South were now sporting “those” colours.

We joined the motorway M1. Cars passed us, many with claret and white scarves flying from the windows. In many of those cars that passed us and were not showing any colours, the occupants looked at us with a bemused look on their faces. We simply smiled back at them and continued on our way. Bridge after bridge that we passed under bore greetings and good wishes for the the club. If I remember correctly it was at Luton the flags stopped appearing on every bridge only to reappear as we approached Hemel Hempstead.

The rest of the journey into that footballing citadel was pretty uneventful other than being absolutely astounded at the number of vehicles bearing Cobblers fans.

On arrival at Wembley we followed our directions to the car park.

There were hundreds of fans there, not only Cobblers supporters but those too from Wales.

This was Wembley, the fans had been singing, talking and dreaming about Wem-ber-ley ever since the play offs’ had begun to loom on the horizon.

A short walk and there they were. It was a sight I shall never forget, indeed, shall never see again.

The twin towers of Wembley stadium. I had seen them before, having been to Wembley on business but never like this. I must admit to feeling awestruck. The Cobblers were here. MY club from MY town. After 100 years existence, Northampton Town were finally here at Wembley. My team would tread the hallowed turf.
Steve and I parted from our friends and walked to the media entrance.

We showed our tickets and were allowed entrance to the bowels of the stadium. We walked a short way into the media reception area where we were given our souvenir programme and offered a welcoming drink along with a buffet luncheon.

We accepted the drink but decided to go to our allotted seats so that we could check that everything was ready to go. We found our seats in the press box. Every seat had its’ own television monitor. We set our equipment up and endeavoured to dial the number to connect us with the studio here in town. There was no dial tone. We double checked our set up procedure. We had done everything correctly. Our hearts and our spirits sank.
I went back to the reception area and enquired as to whether there was a media manager on duty. Asked the reason for my query I explained the predicament to be told that a guy behind me was the BT engineer. I spoke to him. He laughed, carried on eating and told me not to worry, that someone would be along to sort things out.

Half hour later and things were still the same. I found the BT man and this time his face changed. He would have to ring his office. This he did. It transpired that the Job number had only been raised about thirty minutes ago but as he had the relevant number he could connect the line for us. This took him all of about thirty seconds. He stood with us while the studio connection was made. The studio people were relieved to hear from us but, it must be said, not as relieved as we were to speak to them.

All set up and ready to go we decided to enjoy the hospitality of the stadium and enjoyed the buffet.

While we were relaxing, albeit nervously, two gentlemen with Welsh accents, made themselves known to us. They were from the Swansea Hospital Radio Service but they were there as reporters, not commentators. They would be filing reports through the afternoon while we would be providing a full commentary. In the preamble before the match we had a chat with them so our listeners in hospital, here in town, would get a Swansea view of the game in prospect.

We chatted with Mike Sewel and Tim Oglthorpe from BBC Radio Northampton, with Andy Roberts from Chronicle and Echo, there was a a tangible feeling of nervousness about the place.

The master of ceremonies conducted a singing competition between the two groups of supporters.
From our position in the press box, it was difficult for us to ascertain the loudest group. We were told that the Cobblers supporters had easily won that completion.

As the teams entered the arena the roar was deafening.

The game started, there were few opportunities for either side and I must confess to feeling the slightest bit let down. Half time came, we all went into the reception rooms for refreshments. Sheets of paper were being issued to members of the media. They contained the first half match statistics.

We returned to our places, all acutely aware that it could be a single goal that decided the result.

The game wore on, nerves jangled, 89 minutes, 90 minutes. There were to be 4 minutes extra time. 91 minutes, 92 minutes, the Cobblers win a free kick just outside the Swans penalty area. John Frain takes it. The referee has spotted an infringement by Carl Heggs. The free kick must be retaken. Swansea players protest, the referee is adamant, it must be retaken. Once again John Frain places the ball. IT’s now 93 minutes. Frain takes the kick. Roger Freestone in the Swans goal stretches for it but he can’t reach it. The crowd are stunned. Freestone lands on the ground a fraction of a second after the ball has hit the netting inside his goal. Unbelievable. The Cobblers had taken the lead. Realisation rapidly spread thought the Cobblers end of the stadium. The Referee blows his whistle once, twice, three times. It’s over. IT’s over. It’s over. They’ve done it. The Cobblers have won and not only have they won, they’ve won AT WEMBLEY. Cobblers Manager Ian Atkins was on his feet. Cobblers Chairman, Barry Stonhill was on his feet. The directors were on their feet. The Directors wives and sweethearts were on their feet. I was on my feet, so too was Steve.

I looked to my right, and saw the two guys from Swansea Hospital Radio still seated, a look of disbelief on their faces. The Cobblers had beaten Swansea and now we had to wait. Eventually it happened. I freely admit that tears were streaming down my face as I described Ray Warburton, the Cobblers skipper climbing those famous steps towards me. After 39 steps he turned to his left and approached the Royal Box where he was presented with the victors trophy. Then he turned and in the time honoured tradition of winning captains, he turned toward the pitch and held the trophy aloft.

We wrapped up our commentary and just couldn’t comprehend that The Cobblers, THE COBBLERS had come to Wembley and won. Mike Sewel called to me asked me to go to him where he interviewed me for Radio Northampton. We eventually decided that we should start packing away our equipment. We did so with a feeling of sorrow in our hearts. We didn’t want to leave the site of arguably the greatest victory in the one hundred years existence of the club. As we turned our backs on the pitch and made our way back into the reception area, one of the young ladies who had been on duty in that area called us over and handed Steve and I a commemorative pen and pencil set.

I still have in my possession my ticket, programme, both first and second half match statistics sheets and of course the official programme. I also still have that pen and pencil presentation set.

Little did we know that twelve months on from then we would be back but that time would not see such a glorious ending for us.