I know not everyone will be interested in this but I did feel it was a story worth passing on.
Today I stumbled into a situation which perfectly illustrates the long-term bond that can exist between players and families at Argyle. It epitomised the old saying "once a green, always a green".
I was told by a friend that Eric Doughty, a full back we signed from Arsenal in the summer of 1958, had just celebrated his 92nd birthday. It meant that he was close to being our oldest surviving first team player, just forty eight days behind Neil Langman. I had forgotten to ring him to wish him a happy birthday so I put that right this morning. As it happens, Eric was out having walked down to the local cash machine in Peasdown St John. I rang back 90 minutes later and before I could speak to Eric his wife suggested I speak to their visitor who had just arrived.
That visitor was Cleeve Carter, the son of our top post-war goal scorer Wilf Carter. He told me that he had heard that Eric's wife Doreen had had a nasty fall and he had popped over to see if they were coping. The background to this is that back in the days Eric and Wilf played for Argyle the club owned a lot of houses, many of them in Peverell. The Carters lived at 1 Langhill Road and Eric and his family further up the same road.
Eric was most unfortunate in his time at Home Park. Having been at Arsenal for 8 years without making it to the first team he was so excited to be making his Football League debut. Sadly, 30 minutes into that debut at Hull he ruptured his ACL. He went off until half-time. The medical science of the day consisted of a old football bladder full of cold water - the magic sponge - and a crepe bandage. When I interviewed Eric some years later I asked him why he went back on the field because all he could do was hop. I found the answer almost tear-jerking- "Steve, it was my duty to my team-mates."
With the Saturday fixture being followed by one at Rochdale on the Monday, Eric simply had to bear the pain. He did go to Old Trafford on the Sunday where their unqualified trainers gave his knee a twist and a flex before saying they thought it was serious. But at no time was he advised to see a Doctor. However, they gave him a pair of crutches, the very ones that Matt Busby had used to return from Munich a month or two earlier. (And if you want some idea of what life was like back then, this will interest you. Eric told me that when he had finished with the crutches he tied them together and placed and tied a cardboard label to them, addressed to "The Chief Trainer, Manchester United FC, Old Trafford, Manchester. He then went to the station and handed them to the guard on a Manchester train and they were delivered to the ground the next day).
The team stayed in Timperley, Cheshire on the Saturday, Sunday and Monday evenings. The coach journey back to Plymouth took all day on the Tuesday. Once back at Home Park they found the offices locked and no access to the single phone in the ground. Eric was forced to hobble back to Langhill Road on his crutches. By the time he saw a specialist on the Thursday it was already too late. He did undergo an operation but never played first team football again. Each time he played for the reserves or the SWL side his knee would simply swell like a balloon, meaning he could only play every other week.
Eventually Eric was released before the end of the 1959-60 season. The club wanted his house in Langhill Road for new signing Alex Jackson. He returned to his native Somerset, though his ill-fortune had not been set aside. On the road from the A303 up to Wells he hit a patch of mud and his Ford Anglia, with belongings, wife and children inside, ended up on its roof. Fortunately they had nothing worse than a shock.
Some years passed. Eric got a job with Clarks shoes and Wilf Carter eventually signed for Bath City. But the bond between the
families from their time together in Langhill Road was a strong one. For many years Wilf and Eric would visit each other. And clearly, even though Wilf passed away some years ago, Cleeve still stays in touch with the Doughty family. I really did feel it was so special that Cleeve should continue to keep an eye on one his Dad's old team-mates.
Eric's wife Doreen (also 92) has a sister and she too is married to a footballer. And he was a full back and he played for Plymouth Argyle. His name is Tony Book, who will be 90 this September, as will his wife. When I said goodbye this morning Doreen was making light of her fractured hip and "hoped to be moving about soon".
Today I stumbled into a situation which perfectly illustrates the long-term bond that can exist between players and families at Argyle. It epitomised the old saying "once a green, always a green".
I was told by a friend that Eric Doughty, a full back we signed from Arsenal in the summer of 1958, had just celebrated his 92nd birthday. It meant that he was close to being our oldest surviving first team player, just forty eight days behind Neil Langman. I had forgotten to ring him to wish him a happy birthday so I put that right this morning. As it happens, Eric was out having walked down to the local cash machine in Peasdown St John. I rang back 90 minutes later and before I could speak to Eric his wife suggested I speak to their visitor who had just arrived.
That visitor was Cleeve Carter, the son of our top post-war goal scorer Wilf Carter. He told me that he had heard that Eric's wife Doreen had had a nasty fall and he had popped over to see if they were coping. The background to this is that back in the days Eric and Wilf played for Argyle the club owned a lot of houses, many of them in Peverell. The Carters lived at 1 Langhill Road and Eric and his family further up the same road.
Eric was most unfortunate in his time at Home Park. Having been at Arsenal for 8 years without making it to the first team he was so excited to be making his Football League debut. Sadly, 30 minutes into that debut at Hull he ruptured his ACL. He went off until half-time. The medical science of the day consisted of a old football bladder full of cold water - the magic sponge - and a crepe bandage. When I interviewed Eric some years later I asked him why he went back on the field because all he could do was hop. I found the answer almost tear-jerking- "Steve, it was my duty to my team-mates."
With the Saturday fixture being followed by one at Rochdale on the Monday, Eric simply had to bear the pain. He did go to Old Trafford on the Sunday where their unqualified trainers gave his knee a twist and a flex before saying they thought it was serious. But at no time was he advised to see a Doctor. However, they gave him a pair of crutches, the very ones that Matt Busby had used to return from Munich a month or two earlier. (And if you want some idea of what life was like back then, this will interest you. Eric told me that when he had finished with the crutches he tied them together and placed and tied a cardboard label to them, addressed to "The Chief Trainer, Manchester United FC, Old Trafford, Manchester. He then went to the station and handed them to the guard on a Manchester train and they were delivered to the ground the next day).
The team stayed in Timperley, Cheshire on the Saturday, Sunday and Monday evenings. The coach journey back to Plymouth took all day on the Tuesday. Once back at Home Park they found the offices locked and no access to the single phone in the ground. Eric was forced to hobble back to Langhill Road on his crutches. By the time he saw a specialist on the Thursday it was already too late. He did undergo an operation but never played first team football again. Each time he played for the reserves or the SWL side his knee would simply swell like a balloon, meaning he could only play every other week.
Eventually Eric was released before the end of the 1959-60 season. The club wanted his house in Langhill Road for new signing Alex Jackson. He returned to his native Somerset, though his ill-fortune had not been set aside. On the road from the A303 up to Wells he hit a patch of mud and his Ford Anglia, with belongings, wife and children inside, ended up on its roof. Fortunately they had nothing worse than a shock.
Some years passed. Eric got a job with Clarks shoes and Wilf Carter eventually signed for Bath City. But the bond between the
families from their time together in Langhill Road was a strong one. For many years Wilf and Eric would visit each other. And clearly, even though Wilf passed away some years ago, Cleeve still stays in touch with the Doughty family. I really did feel it was so special that Cleeve should continue to keep an eye on one his Dad's old team-mates.
Eric's wife Doreen (also 92) has a sister and she too is married to a footballer. And he was a full back and he played for Plymouth Argyle. His name is Tony Book, who will be 90 this September, as will his wife. When I said goodbye this morning Doreen was making light of her fractured hip and "hoped to be moving about soon".
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