Strikers Instinct Page 3

  The expression on Lexi’s face told Sarah that she didn’t mind in the least. She gazed shyly at the eighteen year old Kevin with obvious interest in her eyes. Tom looked at his sister and laughed. “We’d better get moving before Lexi starts sending out wedding invitations!”

  Lexi kicked her brother but otherwise ignored the remark whereas Kevin just looked puzzled.

  During the next 30 minutes Sarah took the three of them through various parts of the stadium. Meeting the players was obviously the highlight of the tour but Lexi and Tom were both disappointed to find that most of the team had already disappeared – the last game of the season meant that many of them were already heading off on holiday. They did however get some photos and autographs and Sarah made sure that both of them received a shirt that had been signed earlier that day by all the team.

  The last place they visited was deep in the bowels of the main stand. Sarah explained, “This is where the groundstaff live. Jason Grimshaw will explain how the new pitch works and then hopefully his dad will tell you something about the history of the club. Fred probably knows more than anyone about this place.”

  Just as she finished speaking, Jason appeared. Sarah made the introductions and Jason smiled and led them back out onto the side of the pitch. As the turf continued to disappear under a blanket of various materials, he explained how the grass was grown in large trays then placed onto a mesh which helped it bond with the new surface. He also explained how the under soil heating, sprinklers and heat lamps all helped to keep the pitch in pristine condition. When he finished he led the small group back into the groundstaff workroom.

  Just before they entered the room Jason whispered to Sarah, “Your timing isn’t great – he’s in a foul mood.”

  Sarah hissed back, “You-know-who doesn’t care – he just wants these kids to have a good time so you had better sort your Dad out!”

  Jason rolled his eyes then smiled. “I’ll see what I can do….”

  Fred was sat in the corner drinking a mug of tea. He was still seething at what he as the desecration of the pitch. Looking up, he discovered Jason standing before him with a small group of young people.

  “Dad, Miss Jenkins hoped you would give these visitors some background information about the club?” Jason asked hopefully.

  “Sorry son, it’s not a good time.” snapped Fred.

  “Dad – these are Bob Linden’s grandkids. They’re Luke’s children, Lexi and Tom.” Jason explained gently.

  An amazing change seemed to come over Fred. “Please forgive me,” he said, “it’s always very busy at this time of the year but I’m sure we can spare a few minutes!”

  Sarah and Jason both relaxed and shared a small victory smile.

  Fred then paused whilst he decided where to start.

  “I know that Lexi and Jack will probably know a lot of what I am about to say but I’m sure they will help me out if I get anything wrong.” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  The two Linden children laughed and agreed to assist Fred if necessary.

  Fred began. “Many English Football clubs have strange names – teams such as Crewe Alexandra, Sheffield Wednesday, Preston North End – I could go on – but probably one of the strangest is Wishton Clough. Clough is very much a northern word – most people agree that the word means a steep sided, wooded valley. There are many examples in Lancashire – probably the most famous is Boggart Hole Clough in Manchester. It’s a large park between Moston and Blackley and most of the park is made up of these valleys.”

  Fred paused again, then grinned. “As the name suggests, the park is said to be inhabited by Boggarts – and there are several other examples such as Boggart Bridge in Burnley. Wishton Clough also has its own Boggart – but more of that in a minute. On the outskirts of Wishton we also had several of these wooded valleys and during the industrial revolution, rich coal seams were discovered in many of the hills. One valley in particular promised to be very lucrative and a shaft was sunk deep into the hillside. The mine was named Wishton Clough Number One Shaft and over the years it expanded to include two other deep shafts. The pit became one of the biggest employers in the area and eventually, many years later, Lexi and Jack’s grandad worked there before it finally closed.”

  Lexi and Jack shared a long look with Fred before he continued.

  “Hundreds of men used to work at the pit and the sports and social club became a vital part of the community. Several teams sprang up, Cricket, Football and Rugby to name but a few. The most successful was the football team and over the years it expanded to include people from the town who didn’t work at the pit and eventually the team name changed from Clough Pit to Wishton Clough. The mine-owner had donated a small plot of land to be used as a ground and everything grew from there. If you look carefully on the club badge the crest is split into 3 sections. One section contains the red rose of Lancashire, the second section contains a picture of the pit head winding gear and the third is a figure of a Boggart.”

  At this point Kevin broke into the story. “I’m sorry to interrupt you Mr. Grimshaw but I have a couple of questions.”

  “No problem lad,” said Fred, “go ahead and spit them out!”

  Kevin grinned. “Well first of all – what’s with the Boggart? Surely the miners didn’t believe in fairies? And secondly, the Red Rose of Lancashire? I thought Wishton was in Greater Manchester?”

  Fred puffed out his cheeks and looked at the Linden children. “Knowing your family history I’m completely sure that one of you will be able to answer the question about the Red Rose?”

  Lexi volunteered. “Yes Mr. Grimshaw – you could say that!”

  For once Tom smiled in agreement. “Yep – we’ve had all the Lancashire stuff rammed down our throats since we were little – but I’ll let Lexi explain.”

  Lexi cleared her throat. “Lancashire stretches from Cumbria in the north down to Cheshire in the South and then across to Yorkshire in the East and includes cities such as Liverpool and Manchester. In 1974 an act of Parliament meant that new administrative regions were created, but these didn’t affect the boundaries of the ancient and geographical counties and the boundaries of Lancashire remained unaltered. However, because the Tory media began to refer to these new administrative regions instead of continuing to use the names and identities of the historical, geographical counties, some people were misled into thinking that they had been moved overnight into a new county.”

  Fred smiled to himself when Lexi mentioned the Tory media – she was definitely a chip off the old block!

  She continued. “Michael Portillo, Minster for Local Government eventually made a statement that stressed that the local authority areas and boundaries introduced in April 1974 did not alter the traditional boundaries of counties. In other words, the 1974 changes were entirely administrative.”

  Finally, she added, “The Royal Mail also stated that the inclusion of a geographical county name would not affect the way that they handled the mail providing the Post Code is included. This means that if you live in the “real” county of Lancashire you can include Lancashire in your address no matter which administrative area you live in. In other words – Wishton will always be in Lancashire, as will Manchester, Liverpool, Wigan, Warrington and a load of other towns!”

  “Well done Lexi!” said Fred, “someone has obviously taught you well.”

  Lexi glowed and smiled shyly at Kevin. Behind Kevin’s back Tom pretended to shove his fingers down his throat! Lexi glared at Jack and as Kevin turned around to look, Tom innocently sat down in the corner.

  Fred shook his head in amusement, then said, “The second part of your question was to do with Boggarts I believe? Perhaps I had better answer that question. To start with, no-one seems to be able to agree exactly what a Boggart looks like.”

  “I wonder why!” Kevin snorted.

  Fred ignored him and went on. “Many say that a Boggart can sometimes look almost human but others say they often look like animals. I think the only
thing they seem to agree on is that they always seem to be ugly!”

  Fred considered making a joke about Mrs. Grimshaw at this point but the look on Sarah’s face convinced him it wouldn’t be well received. He went on.

  “The Wishton Clough Boggart was said to have amazingly long arms that trailed down almost to the floor and the first recorded appearance was a few years after the pit first opened. A group of miners were walking down to the coalface at the beginning of their shift, when they were terrified to see a wild creature running up the tunnel towards them. They were all hardened colliers but they turned tail and ran back towards the winding gear as fast as they could. They only just made it when the roof behind them collapsed dramatically. If the creature hadn’t stopped them they would have all been killed. Their story was greeted with general disbelief in the town but the fact they survived the fall convinced some people that there may be some truth in their tall tale. Over the years there were many such sightings of the Boggart – he always seemed to appear just before some sort of danger. Floods, poisonous gases and rock falls were all avoided because the Boggart allegedly warned the miners of danger.”

  “You don’t really believe this do you?” asked Kevin incredulously.

  “It doesn’t matter whether I believe it or not,” said Fred, “you just need to look at the facts.”

  “What facts?” challenged Kevin.

  “The safety record for the mine was the best in Lancashire. Sadly there was still the odd accident but miners queued up to work at Wishton Pit, they said it was a lucky mine and eventually they all believed in the Boggart. The mine may be closed now but it will always be a part of the club. The official club nickname is “The Boggarts” but some of the older fans prefer “The Pitmen”. Of course if that sod upstairs has anything to do with it then all that will probably soon disappear!”

  At that point Sarah quickly broke into the conversation – “Many thanks for that Fred, I think that’s probably a good point to break off, I’ll get them back upstairs now.”

  “No problem love, anything for the Lindens.” said Fred with a grin.

  Lexi, Tom and Kevin all thanked Jason and his dad and they headed back towards the lounge.

  CHAPTER 4

  Back upstairs Ed had continued with his story.

  “My grandfather’s success in the game against Bolton meant that Tierney’s Tonic really took off but sadly it proved to be the highlight of his footballing career. Wishton were crushed by Manchester City in the next round of the FA Cup and just before the end of that season grandad took a bad knock on his knee. It wasn’t a career-ending injury but he had to rest for a while and during this time he came to realise that he needed to concentrate on getting into university. He passed the entrance exams and although he played occasionally for his university he more or less packed it in. Francis concentrated on qualifying as a chemist – his ambition was to take over from his father and expand the business. In fact he proved to be a better businessman than a chemist!”

  “Didn’t he qualify?” Sue asked.

  “Oh yes, he did became a chemist but it soon became quite obvious that his heart wasn’t in it. He did, however, have a great flair for business. Over the years he took on more and more responsibility from his father and this arrangement suited both of them. Great-grandfather had the time to tinker with his experiments and Francis slowly expanded Tierney’s Tonics until it was a well known household brand.

  Francis continued to prosper, he married and they had a son – my father – and he in turn began to take an interest in the business. However, Father was more like Francis’s father – he preferred the chemist side of the business rather than making money. As he grew older he wasn’t as interested in expanding the business so by the time I came along, the good times seem to have passed by. People were now using antibiotics and some of the products we produced were almost seen as witchcraft.

  As I was growing up my grandmother died and Grandfather Francis came to live with us. He and I spent a lot of time together and he encouraged me to broaden my horizons and to look at new ways to bring the business back to life. Father used to laugh at us – he pointed out that we were still quite wealthy and the business still had a small hard core who swore by our products, He did admit however that it was highly unlikely that we would ever be as popular as we once had been.

  Grandfather encouraged me to be different and instead of attending university in England he urged me to try the United States. I still hadn’t made up my mind what to do when my grandfather sadly died. Although my father had been running the business for a number of years he now became the official owner. We were both surprised, however, when we found that Grandfather’s will contained a bequest leaving me a very large sum of money. There was a clause added to the bequest. In order for me to receive the money, I had to go to the US to continue my education. If I agreed then I could use a portion of the money each year to pay for my education and living expenses and then the remainder would be mine to do with as I wished – if and when I graduated. The only other condition my grandfather added was that I had to study business – not medicine.

  It seemed that my mind had been made up for me. I went off to America and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. In addition to receiving a first rate education I immersed myself in a country that wanted to be first in everything. The main lesson I learned was that what happens in the US this year will follow on in the rest of the world next year. In other words – study what is selling in the US at the moment because that will be selling in the rest of the world within 12 months.

  Anyway, I returned to the UK after almost 4 years away. I had only been back home a few times, I had been too busy and I didn’t want to waste grandfather’s money on air travel. When I finally did arrive home, I was shocked to find that the business was nearly bankrupt. Father still ran a successful chemist’s shop but the Tonic business was more or less finished. Mother and Father still lived in a large comfortable house but everything seemed very small and tired after my time in the US.

  I really didn’t know what to do. Should I go back to the US and try to make a new life out there or was there anything I could do in the UK? As I pondered on what to do, I started to unpack my cases containing my possessions and souvenirs from my time in America. I moved one of the cases and a can dropped out and fell onto my foot. Cursing, I looked at what had fallen and I realised it was an energy drink that I had become addicted to in the US. It was used by many students to keep awake – the caffeine level was amazingly high.

  It slowly dawned on me that perhaps I was holding my future in my hands! I gathered my thoughts and then later that evening I put an idea forward to my father. I proposed that I would use what was left of grandfather’s money to buy the Tonic brand and recipe from him and reinvent it as a high-energy drink aimed at teenagers and young adults. This kind of product line was booming in the US and I was sure it would soon take off in the UK.

  My father thought for a moment and then gave me his reply. “I’m sorry Ed, I can’t sell you the Tonic – it’s just not possible.” He looked at my crestfallen face and then went on, “However, what I can do is offer it to you as a gift.” My mood swung from misery to elation! “There will be one condition though,” my father said. “I would consider it a privilege if you would let me work with you on the new product.”

  I was thrilled. Not only had my father given me the Tonic business free of charge he was also going to help me tweak the recipe so that we could bring it up to date!

  Progress was swift. Father took the original recipe from the safe and the main change we had to make was to make it fizzy. We had to add sugar and caffeine in order to appeal to students and young people. Father was invaluable during this work. He knew all the legal safety levels for additives so once we had a working prototype we had no problem getting the drink signed off by the health and safety authorities. Once Father had produced the flavour I wanted – based on the old recipe – then it was up to me.

&nb
sp; I used every trick and technique I had learned in the US. I set up product testing groups and experimented with different size and colours of cans. Finally we had a product we were happy with – the final obstacle was finding the right name. We both agreed that Tierney’s Tonic couldn’t be used but we didn’t want to lose that link to the past completely – it could be another good selling point. We seemed to have hit a brick wall – every name was wrong. We wanted something short and snappy that still had some reference to the old product, it seemed we were asking for the impossible. During one fruitless brainstorming session I was replying to a text on my phone when my father remarked that it was a pity that I couldn’t just text someone to ask for a product name. I smiled and then went very quiet. “That’s it Dad – you are a genius!”

  My father looked very puzzled – whereas I was very excited! “We need to take the initial from Tierney’s Tonic and add something to them!” My father still looked blank. “We will call the new drink “TxT” By this point father was even more confused. “Don’t you see – it works on so many levels? It’s short, it’s punchy, it relates to the old product but its powerful – and the final clincher – kids will relate to it because it’s an abbreviation for text – which mostly uses nothing but abbreviations!”

  I was ecstatic but father just shook his head and shuffled out of the room smiling as he went. I tried the new name out on the product testing groups and they loved it. That was the final hurdle cleared. I used what was left of grandfather’s money and modified part of the old Tonic operation into a bottling and canning production line and we were ready for business.

  When my Great grandfather was at this point with the original Tonic, he had struggled to get his product noticed. If it hadn’t been for Francis then very few people outside of Wishton would have ever heard of it. I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to me. Once again I used all my new-found knowledge and began to push the new TxT drink as hard as I could. Social media, product placement, paying people to hold the cans during televised events – I tried every trick in the book – and it paid off big time.