BD8 & Beyond, page 17
I kept clear of most of ‘our’ doors and I threw the towel in regarding all the bouncing work and gave most of our guys contact numbers for work elsewhere. It was December and we were starting a five day Crown Court trial, my legal team were still convinced that the CPS didn’t really have enough to go on and wouldn’t have pursued the case if the doormen hadn’t been of Asian origin even though there was no question of the case being racist.. The prosecuting Barrister obviously didn’t think she had enough to win the case because she asked if I would be willing to except a ‘Breach of the peace’ charge and a ‘Drunk and Disorderly’ charge. We agreed that I would accept the charges but the two doormen wanted me charged with assaults, so the trial went ahead.!!
Throughout the trial there were unexplained discrepancies but everything went against me. Certain Police officers were adamant that I made no phone calls form the station and calls made earlier that night, were also discarded. I had spoken to Kev Spratt on the phone, outside The Bank pub about the two doormen, (they were working for him) but the doormen denied the call was made. These calls were evidence and proved that certain people weren’t telling the truth on the stand and couldn’t be deemed credible under oath but my phone bill, proving that the calls were made, was not allowed to be shown as evidence!! We had a statement from Kev but my ‘Brief’ decided not to use it. The prosecution had no solid evidence whatsoever, they stated that I didn’t actually enter the premises, although I had over a dozen witnesses to say otherwise and could have actually called on another dozen!. Two friends of mine, Mal, a Leading Fireman and Greggy, who has his own local business, stood on the stand and both said they had been with me inside the premises but were both deemed as liars by the court!! The prosecution had no weapon and no witnesses to back up anything they said. All that aside, on the Friday afternoon, the jury came back with a close split decision. The judge was called Macallum and didn’t seem a bad sort really, he seemed to prompt the jury in my direction. He said that he wanted any verdict to be clear cut and asked them, in turn, if they could resume on Monday morning. Most of them came up with excursuses as to why they would not be able to attend on the Monday, some said they could not have time from work, one or two had kids to look after and a couple said they worked for themselves and could not afford the time off. I was thinking, “This is my life you people are playing with and I want justice, not what’s easier for your personal life!!!” The judge even offered to get an application passed for a Saturday morning court but that went down like a lead balloon as well. They went out again to consider and within half an hour, they were back and the fuckers nailed me to the floor. This wasn’t a verdict related to “Without reasonable doubt”, this was a case of “Let’s get it over, I want my tea”!! So, to all you twelve people that sat on the Jury bench of my trial, at Bradford Crown Court, two weeks prior to Christmas 2001, you all should be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves, there was no real evidence and you couldn’t get yourselves out of there quick enough to carry on with your, no doubt, pretty mundane little lives!
Sentencing was scheduled in January, after assessments, so Christmas was a pretty dismal affair that year. On return to work, I was hauled before Boxall, who’s attitude had done a, ‘full about turn’. He made it clear that if I did some ‘stir’, I was out of a job and even a non-custodial might mean my dismissal. Now, I always believe that when a man gives his word or commits to something, then his word is his bond and shows how tall a man stands. Mr Boxall now had me down as a ‘major criminal’ and had no intention of backing me up.
The day of the sentence hearing and I headed for the Crown Court with my wife and daughter. I had packed a bag to take with me, as I was expecting a custodial sentence of around 18 month. My top mate Sean had shown up from Blackburn to give some moral support and an hour later we all breathed a sigh of relief as the judge gave me 240 hours community service and a whacking fine.
I arranged to work the ‘order’ hours on a Sunday and work off any other days as quickly as I could. At work on the maintenance, I was contracted to work to full weekends in every five but the ‘court order’ work caused a slight problem. I offset any extra overtime that I worked against the Sundays and had to justify myself to Boxall, who just became total ‘smart’ with regard to my proposal and would have had me on my knees in order to keep the job, if he thought he could have got away with it! How people’s attitudes change!!
The first day I turned up to work the ‘order’ hours, there was a big black guy who was as loud as they come and kept pestering me, trying to find out what my crime had been. After a couple of hours of this clown chewing my lug off, I blurted out what I was there for and he shut the fuck up, thank the Lord. I was amazed at how dim some of these ‘cons’ were, they stole from places where we were working and got nicked, obviously!! There was one lad there who’d had a piece bitten out of each of his ears!! He looked a right sight and had obviously pissed some fucker off! He would constantly say, “Give your head a shake”, which was a saying that I began to use on a regular basis and now half of Yorkshire use the statement. ‘Flash’, a mate of ours is always into my ribs to come up with a new ‘catch phrase’ or saying but nothing has reared its head as yet. We worked at a Greyhound rescue centre for a while, gardening, painting and a few other chors, which was quite good, therapeutic in fact but the stupid bastards robbed the place and let all the dogs out, some dying after attacking each other. You can’t educate shite, some of these fucked up halfwits were seriously deranged!
I finished the community order inside five months, involving painting, gardening, postal work, collections, sand bag filling and sorting out meals for the old folk, which was pretty good going for a 240 hour sentence.
CHAPTER 14
I’d had a week or so authorised break in the middle of the Community Order to go on holiday. It was my wife Sue and Russ’s 40th birthdays and ‘top man’ Russ had booked a cruise for the three of us and Marg, in the Caribbean. We flew to Barbados, boarded the ship and then visited St Lucia, Grenada, Margarita, Caracao and Aruba. Russ and myself decided to defy the advice of the ship’s crew and visit the nearest town to the port on the island of Margarita. We should have realised it wasn’t too friendly when we were told not to wear any watches, rings or any other form of jewellery. We got a cab and one of the port security, an absolutely huge black guy just shook his head, after asking if we were sure we wanted to head in that particular direction. A few miles down the road and the cab pulled up, he dropped us at the top of the main street, stating that he didn’t want to drive the car into the centre!!?? There were guys walking around with machetes and a sort of ‘tumbleweed’ blowing about………it was like a setting from a dodgy film!! We were the only white faces on this ‘film set’ and the town seemed to stop dead, so we quickly headed into the nearest bar and out of the searing heat. The bar was empty apart from a big geezer who was watching basketball on the TV, he briefly eyeballed us and mumbled something. We had a couple of cold cokes and 3 bottles of Bud each and then struggled for ten minutes or so trying to pay the girl behind the bar, until the big fella intervened. He could speak perfect English!! He charged us $5 and explained that the dollar was worth plenty there and the President was round the bend but had a good relationship with the US ! Barmy. He ordered us a cab and we quickly did one. There was plenty to do on the ship and we made the most of it but not in the same vein as the Americans, they seemed to be filling their faces at every opportunity. There was a night club on one of the upper decks and one night myself and Russ were knocking a few back, when I experienced one of the funniest occurrences in my life. The music to ‘Footloose’ started and there was a guy stood on the dance floor dressed all in white and looking like a fifty year old John McEnroe. Well, this guy started dancing about at lightening speed and proceeded to crash into a load of seats and going arse over tit!! A couple rushed to his aide and helped him up and he tried to resume his dance, only to fall down between the tables in a heap! He was then carried out and for the rest of the cruise, he was using a walking stick and each time I saw him, I just cried laughing. We bought cigars in Caracao, spices in Grenada and diamonds in Aruba and all in all, a top bollocks jolly hol.
Russ had said to me that he was expecting the two doormen from the bank to get their comeuppance, as I had a ‘Black Book’ etched to the inside of my head and that’s the way I’ve always lived my life. Although he didn’t believe me, I told him that I’d let it lie and leave them be……….
I went up to Newcastle to stay with my brother Pete for a ‘World Cup’ final party weekend, my youngest brother Bryan was at my mums at the time and he went up with me. Bryan had moved out to live in Dubai through work a few years earlier and hadn‘t seen me or Pete for a while so it was set for a decent weekend. We weren’t disappointed, it was a quality time but like all things, it had a downside! I tripped and landed on the arm of the settee, banging my side. I knew straight away that I had down some damage and for a short time, I couldn’t actually get my breath, I was on the deck and I panicked and grabbed a bottle of ale. A good mouthful and I was gasping for all I was worth. The pain was excruciating and as I felt my side, I knew that I had broken three ribs…… as the saying goes…. ‘When you slip in the cow field, you get covered in shit’!!
Back at work, a couple of days later, I was working on a job in the warehouse and was stood on some step ladders. When the ladders wobbled, I reached out and grabbed hold of a pipe, unfortunately it was a pipe that Matt Adams had left there and it wasn’t attached!! I fell 8 feet to the floor, twisting in the air, so as to land on my back and try to protect my busted ribs!! Ha, cheers Matt. I lay there for a few minutes while the pain subsided and hoped that I had no further injuries. Thank fuck nobody actually saw hit the concrete. I did go to the hospital at Halifax but they wouldn’t even check my ribs, saying it was unlikely that they were broken and were probably just bruised!!! Shite service.
Later that year, my great friend Gordon passed away, God rest his soul. As I mentioned earlier, Gordon was diabetic and in that year his health had deteriorated. We’d spoke in some depth about the consequences of his death regarding his family and he’d told me that financially, his family would be ok. He’d told me that he didn’t fear death and would be happy to die that year so his wife, Linda and children, Adam and Emma would benefit from the life insurance. These conversations had, once or twice, ended in tears. We’d sing song lyrics at each other and laugh when one of us couldn’t remember the words of certain songs. He was a top sort and a very good friend of mine. He had the Queen song, ‘These are the days of our lives’ played at his funeral, very fitting really……….
“Those were the days of our lives,
The bad things in life were so few,
Those days are gone now but one thing’s still true,
When I look and I find, I still love you.”
See you on the other side Gordon Ashley.
November saw Leeds visit Sheffield United for a midweek League Cup game and we were well fired up for it. All our coaches were pulled over before entering the city the law there seem to really hate you with a passion! They make you late for the game and either ‘knock’ you about or nick you if you complain and kick off. There were plenty of lads from both clubs outside the ground but the law were in abundance and kept the confrontations to a minimum. We lost the game 2-1 and went out of the cup. I’d had a burger outside the ground with my mate Carl Allen and I spent most of the night throwing up!!! Knocked out of the cup and fucking poisoned……cheers, you Blade Bitches!
We played those Blades again that season, in the quarter final of the F.A. cup, in March and got turned over again, that time it was 1-0. gutted again. As before, we were pulled over by the law as we entered Sheffield and a couple of them were making 2-1 gestures at us from outside the coach, relating to the League Cup game……very professional of them. I was hoping the coach might knock a couple of them over !!?? Inside the ground, Leeds fans ripped up seats and launched them down onto the pitch. It looked like it could escalate into a bit of a riot but the law were in control and quelled the situation.
My left knee was wearing, there were very little ligaments left, the cartilage was non existent and the joint was ‘bone on bone’ and there was a mention of a full replacement sometime in the future. In the meantime, I had a ligament operation on my right ankle at Bradford Royal and was in cast for a while. I told the consultant, Mr Shanker, about the pain in my side and the rib incident from the year before and he sent me for x-ray straight away. Sure as eggs are eggs, he confirmed that 3 ribs had been bust and there was a calcium build up round them. I had treatment to break down the ‘build’, which hurt like shit, no thanks to the Halifax General!!
The next, more serious, bombshell in that turbulent year was the disclosure that my dad had been diagnosed with lung cancer, a statement that rips a whole in you, as if it were yourself that had been diagnosed.
We’d bought the house next door, so as well as working full shifts at the Print plant, I was slogging it in the house and trying to spend time with my father. I managed to get the odd game under my belt but Leeds had hit the wall financially and we were pretty much fucked we were heading for the drop but a win away at the Arsenal, which just about gave the title to ‘Scum Trafford’ and a home win against Villa, kept us up.
Sue’s dad Alan, was hospitalised when his body, basically had worn itself out though years of hardened alcohol and smoking abuse. He had been a successful painter and decorator in his time but as time went by, the smoke and drink had taken over. We had always got on sound but now he was on his last lap and Sue was spending a lot of her time with him. Obviously our marriage was struggling as we both spent time living, what appeared to be two separate lives.
My dad said that he didn’t want to go into a Macmillan or Marie Curie hospice and that if he was on his way out, he wanted to ‘go’ at home. The pressure was telling on my mum, it was hard for her but she was there for him and I was doing my best to be there for her. My sister Pam was also doing her bit but brother Bryan living in Dubai and brother Pete up in Newcastle meant the family was split in body, if not in mind.
On the 4th November, I went to see my dad in the evening. He was in bed and the conversation wasn’t brilliant as he was tiring through speaking and kept drifting off. As I was leaving the room, he said, “I’ll se you lad” and I had a feeling they would be his last words to me. He lost the fight for life a few hours later, in the early hours of the 5th November 2003. This was a massive loss to us all and no matter how much sympathy and well being people send your way, it still knocks the shit out you and leaves you with a sense of numbness. There was a great turn out at the funeral and my dad got a good send off. He loved Frank Sinatra and I had a little smile to myself as “Fly me to the moon” played out at the end of the service.
After a small family and friends gathering, I went for a few drinks with my two brothers and my sister’s son, James, down in Bingley, where my mother and sister Pam live. We had a few beers and ‘chewed the fat’, after which, we each expressed our feelings for one another and then headed home.
Back home, Sue was waiting for my return, with some news of her own. Due to the amount of time she had been spending with her sick father and I with mine, we had hardly spent any time together and were pretty much virtual strangers really. Anyhow, Sue said that she thought we’d reached the end of the road together and as she was putting all her efforts into being there for her dad, I wasn’t in the equation. I was mentally and physically drained, it had been a long day and I agreed that if that was her wish, then I would throw the towel in. The timing could have been better but as time has moved on, it has proved to have been the right move.
I worked like hell on the house next door and within weeks, just before Christmas, Sue moved in, until we decided on how to separate our assets, this was to prove an interesting situation to say the least!!
On the Monday 22nd December, I’d gone with the lads to watch Leeds v Man City at their new ground, Eastlands. We drew the game one each and apart from one of our lads, big Ian, having a verbal set-too with a couple of stewards, there wasn’t much on the confrontation front.
We were sinking a few beers after returning to the Bedford pub, when Sue rang me and said that her dad had died. Not that a death is very nice at any time but over the Christmas period, it can be more of a testing time for families.
Alan’s funeral was on New Years Eve and after he had been put to rest, everyone decided to give him a solid send off and run it through to New Year’s Day. Myself and Russ were in the Duke William pub seeing in the New Year when, much to our surprise the snow began falling quite heavily. Now getting a taxi on that night of the year is always a pain and although I didn’t live too far away, I wasn’t really in a fit state to be staggering about on the road in the snow in the early hours. Luckily, there were two youngish lads with a sledge across the road from the pub and with the help of a ‘tenner’, I managed to persuade them to pull me on to my house……….best ten spot I’ve ever spent!! God only knows why the hell the two lads were there at that time!
