That was a great day at Old Trafford in 1991. For the second time in 3 years, we filled the Stretford End. Standing only in there in those days!

A sulking Martin Offiah walked off the field after refusing to collect his losers medal.

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Sunday December 12th 1993 Hull 10-Widnes 6

Over the 60 years that I have been involved in Hull FC, I have certainly attended a lot of matches when it’s been cold, in fact I’ve attended one or two when it has been positively freezing but there was one game that was played at the Boulevard back in 1993 that will always go down in the annals of our great Club, as the coldest afternoon that we ever experienced at that great old Stadium. Back in December that year our form had certainly improved and we were all hoping for a good run in the Regal Trophy when, to our dismay, we were drawn against Widnes at the Boulevard. They were the ‘Cup Kings’ and although we had won 4 of our previous 5 games, including a narrow victory over St Helens at the Boulevard the previous week, it was going to be tough.
As I walked down the Boulevard towards the ground it was cold; it was that sort of cold that grips your face and chills you to the bone. In addition as the wind howled round the terraces and houses it was just starting to hailstone. With it being a Cup game we knew there was bound to be some available space, so we decided to sit in the New Threepenny Stand, hoping that it would at least offer some shelter from what were Arctic conditions. As I made my way into the seats wishing I had worn a warmer coat, I was greeted by a succession of groans as I pushed my way past a line of middle aged fans with blankets over their legs and their soup flasks twinkling in the floodlights. I finally slumped down next to a heavily pregnant woman in her mid thirties to whom I said, “Hello, how are you doing”. She scowled, took another drag on her cigarette and said, “Two weeks over”. “This” I thought “Could be an interesting afternoon”
When the teams came out, vigorously swinging their arms like demented windmills it was obvious that however fast and furious the action, for some it was going to be difficult keeping warm. Before he kicked off, Jeff Doyle was blowing on his hands and it was clearly also going to be an ‘interesting afternoon’ for our Aussie imports.
Widnes were a great team, however we started strongly as Tim Street continually pushed their strong pack backwards. Then after around ten minutes, a full scale brawl broke out when Tim slapped Esene Faimalo in a tackle. The referee Mr. Ollerton waited for the melee to die down before giving both players a stiff talking too and awarding Widnes a penalty. Shortly after that it was certainly no surprise when the visitors took the lead as Goulding broke through a tackle by Sharp and put hooker McCurrie in under the sticks.
Goulding converted just as the leaden skies started to produced torrential freezing rain which came down like ‘stair rods’ driven on by a north-easterly wind blowing across the field and into our faces in the Stand. Already the cold was taking its toll as twice James Grant sank to his knees between plays shaking his head and vigorously rubbing his hands. Still on we battled, refusing to be intimidated by Widnes’s reputation despite our current hero Australian Des Hasler being decidedly subdued and obviously struggling with the conditions.
Then we scored. Gary Nolan, who was in a rich vein of form and keeping his brother Rob out of the starting line up, took a pass from Chico Jackson and hurtled down the wing to score in the corner despite the attentions of three Widnes defenders. As we all stood to applaud a fine try Gary failed to get up, having in the act of scoring displaced his AC joint. He was stretchered from the field to be replaced by his brother Rob as Paul Eastwood missed the conversion but then scored with a penalty from wide out on the left. As Widnes started to get on top again, the hooter went and at half time as the wind howled and the sleet shone in the floodlights it was 6-6.
I remember my knees locking completely as I tried to stand up and to another round of ‘tutting’ from the ‘flask brigade’, my pal Harry, with ice bristling in his beard, went off to get us three ‘Bovril’s’. I stamped my feet in unison with another 3,400 hardy souls who made up the meagre, but stoic attendance that day. Despite having played the first half with the snow, sleet and rain at their backs, the Hull Dressing Room at the interval was in turmoil.
The Club Doctor at the time, (I think it was Mike Dunham) was summoned by the tannoy to the Home Dressing Room and soon declared that 5 Hull players were suffering from the early stages of hyperthermia. He immediately approached the Referee and requested the game be called off for medical reasons, but when this suggestion was put to the Widnes officials they felt that they were on top and would win and so turned it down.
The half time interval was extended and as the announcers records ran out and we were treated to a second airing of a scratchy rendition of ‘Uptown Girl’, out on the terraces we all wondered just what was happening. Apparently Mike Dixon and Des Hasler were so cold that, in an effort to get their circulation going, Pete Standidge, one of the assistants that day, had to run to the Club House kitchen and get all the baking foil he could find to wrap the pair up. Finally after a break of around twenty two minutes the teams ran out into the sleet and the rain. Both sides changed their shirts, but Hull FC were for reasons unknown, still wearing the dirty wet shorts that they had worn in the first half.
We started well as big Tim Street and second rower Daniel Divet smashed into the opponent’s formidable front row of McCurrie, Ireland and How. Then Moriarty broke through to be felled by a brilliant last ditch effort by Hull’s Richard Gay that dislodged the ball and a certain score was averted. Hull needed a boost and they got it on 50 minutes. Tim Street went on one of those famous rampaging ‘breakout’ runs down the left to link with the pacey James Grant running at his side. The Aussie burst forward and slipped a perfect reverse pass to Rob Nolan who kicked ahead and chased the ball himself. Despite three blatant attempts to obstruct his path, Rob touched down just to the left of the posts and for a few seconds, we all forgot about the cold and danced in our seats, as Eastwood stroked over the conversion.
As my pregnant ‘friend’ lit up another cigarette, Hull FC might easily have increased their lead. Des Hasler was held on his back and Rob Danby went close while Paul Eastwood, down in front of us on the wing, amused himself by ‘conducting’ the crowd through several renditions of ‘Old Faithful’ which, when a string of four penalties went against us, morphed into, “Who’s Ya Father, who’s Ya Father, who’s Ya Father referee, you haven’t got one you’re a Bas*ard, You’re a Bas*ard referee!!!”. Outside the ground it must have sounded like a crowd of 10,000 as Hull FC held their ground and the lead, until the hooter sounded and a famous victory was ours.
Several of the players ran straight off the field at the end and who can blame them, but Chico Jackson, Paul Eastwood and Jon Sharp (whose car broke down before the game, so he only arrived 15 minutes before kick-off) celebrated with us all before they ran off to be again swathed in tin-foil and we scurried off to the warmth of the pub. Whilst the pregnant lady struggled to get out of her seat and grasped her tummy, and I beat a hasty retreat!!
Afterwards Richard Gay said, “I thought I was going to die I couldn’t stop shaking, it was the most frightening experience of my life”. While Des Hasler added, “For the first time in my life, I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes at all! It was the coldest I have ever been or ever want to be”. After that Des and a couple of other players wore skin tight wet suits under their kit, and if he doesn’t remember anything else from his time at the Boulevard, I bet he still remembers that night in December 1993!

A busy old Christmas in 1967!!


The festive season was always a busy time for players and fans alike and Christmas 1967 was no exception. I was 17 and living the 60’s dream. Whilst the Beatles were in the middle of a seven-week run at number one in the charts with ‘Hello Goodbye’ and ‘Spirograph’ and ‘Action Man’ were the top toys on most kids Christmas lists, it was, without doubt, a great time to be living close to the Stadium. However, we’d just moved from Airlie Street to Sutton so there was a lot of travelling backwards and forwards involved in any busy yuletide fixture list. However, looking back there is little doubt that particular festive period certainly emphasised how much different the present game is to what took place in the late sixties.

Players worked full time and a couple were even on shift work so they only trained when they could and because many of them needed the money they played whatever the circumstances, often despite suffering bad injuries and sometimes playing several games in quick succession. These situations driven by the need to earn as much money as possible may have led to the health problems some of them experience later in their lives. Chris Davidson once told me that if they were injured and could not work the Club’s insurance only paid out £2-10s a week. He played on injured on many occasions and suffered with his legs for the rest of his life. So, they were tough times for the players and that festive season was no exception with the FC playing a staggering three games in four days and all of them at the Boulevard. Can you imagine that happening now? OK some folks will say that its more physical and intense these days but it’s all relative because modern professional players are fine-tuned sporting machines, whilst back then I would describe them as ‘hard as nails’ part time heroes, who gave their all every time they pulled on the black and white shirt.

Thankfully at least the festive period was milder than the previous three had been but the Boulevard pitch was a real mess before we even started and of course that frequency of games did little to improve it but it was just the way the fixtures fell, because that year Christmas Day was on a Monday. The previous Saturday the 23rd, we played an ‘awkward’ looking game against Castleford and a good gate of 6,500 gave the Christmas shopping a miss and despite the East Yorkshire Buses being on strike, it was a healthy crowd and there was a great festive atmosphere in the Boulevard that afternoon.

The game started at 3-00pm and the new floodlights were on but if I remember rightly, the new additions to our stadium were on all the time back then, whatever time the kick-off. It was something, that was probably down to the novelty value of the new equipment. Still, this was to be our best performance over the holidays, Jim Neale won the man of the match accolade after a masterful display in the second row and Arthur Keegan put in a great stint at full back joining the line in fine style whilst at scrum half Chris Davidson scored a great try. He was put through the Castleford defence by Nobby Oliver who cut in from the wing to feed a perfect ball inside to our scrum half and touched down in the corner. John Maloney could not get the day off work and so Davidson took on the goal kicking duties as well and landed four beauties from wide out. Willett the Castleford stand-off half kicked three goals in the first half, but tries from Terry Devonshire, Nick Trotter and Arthur Keegan saw us home and despite one of the floodlight pylons at the back of the threepenny stand giving up the ghost in the second half (to shouts of, put another shilling in the meter) we came out winners 22-6.

Two days later, on Christmas Day, despite a skeleton bus service that stopped at 4-00pm and no trains at all, 11,800 attended the local Derby against the old enemy which kicked off at 11-00am. So cramped were the fixtures that year, that on arrival Fred Daddy one of the Groundsman was still walking down the touchline in front of the Best Stand with his line marking machine. It turned out to be a ferocious game in which there were no fewer than 7 fights as a few old scores were settled. A brilliant first seventeen minutes by the Rovers in which Flash Flanagan scored and Holliday kicked 4 goals saw the Robins put themselves in an unassailable position on what was a really heavy ground. Dick Gemmell our game breaking centre was mysteriously unavailable and we really missed him and as the cigars were smoked and the brandy passed round on the ‘Threepennies’ we finished on the wrong end of a 15-9 scorelines. Still the smell of that Christmas day crowd saturated as it always was in cigar smoke and the aroma of Brandy will be something anyone who experienced it will never forget.

As it became obvious that we were to lose the game, Chris Davidson had three skirmishes with Bill Holliday the last of which saw him land a ‘pearler’ of a right hook on the Rover’s second rowers jaw for which he was immediately ordered off the pitch. Not to be outdone, Alan McGlone then ‘planted’ a brilliant right hook, on Barry Cooper who was carried from the field in the last minute and in spirit of Peace and Goodwill the final whistle saw skirmishes break out right across the field. The referee no doubt anticipating his Christmas lunch blew the final whistle and immediately marched off the field and left them to it!!

Joe Oliver had pulled back a try for us and John Maloney who replaced Gemmell kicked three goals, but in the end we lost. The game had promised so much but as the Sports Mail stated after the game, ‘For the home team, it had promised so much but ended up a damp squib’

Next day, Boxing Day, there was no let up as we played our third home game but by now family distractions, another 2/9d admission fee or maybe even Cool Hand Luke and Dr Doolittle premiering at the Cecil and ABC Regal meant that just 3100 turned up to see what should have been an easy game against lowly Doncaster. In the end it was anything but easy. Two really hard games had taken their toll and as we made just two changes, it was certainly hard going. The men from Tattersfield ‘stuck it to’ us in the first half and it was 30 minutes before John Maloney got a penalty to open the scoring. Gemmell (who was greeted onto the field by a wag on the Threepennies shouting “…were you ed yesterday Dick?”, was back in the team and broke several times, but tired legs meant that there was little or no backing up and several chances were lost.

Otherwise, the only other player to do his reputation any good at all was Arthur Keegan who had another fine game at full back, pulling off several of his classic last-ditch tackles to keep our line intact. But then again, he always did us proud did Arthur. Devonshire and Davidson got tries for us and we were cruising toward victory, when in the last quarter of an hour the unfancied visitors roared back inspired by the try of the game, a brilliant 75 yarder by winger James which led to a ‘jittery’, last few minutes. However, in the end we came out winners by 10-3. So, it was 4 points out of 6 but the one we lost was, as always, the only one we the fans were most desperate to win. We played at Bramley four days later and lost again but 4 games in 8 days and 3 in 4 was what the game was like back then and you have to wonder just how the players managed to keep going.

Great times, great players and a wonderful experience never forgotten; but most of all despite being a run-down mud patch of a ground back then but the Boulevard at Christmas and in fact any other time of the year was simply a fantastic place to be and an experience I’ll cherish forever.

Happy Christmas everyone!

I remember going but the highlight for me that day was Christmas dinner afterwards. We well well ready for it by home time.
I was 13 and just at the stage of getting socks and such for Christmas so to lose put a damper on the day.

I was 14, got my first grey long pants for Christopher Wren school and went to the game with a school token