Shirts, Shorts and Spurs

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Roy Reyland. Shirts, Shorts and Spurs

SHIRTS SHORTS & SPURS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

PREFACE

PROLOGUE

‘MR GREAVES, MR GREAVES!’

THE GOING GETS TURF

LEARNING THE ROPES

‘WHERE’S YOUR HOLSTEN?’

GAZZA, GUNS AND GOALS

A BITTERSWEET VICTORY

SPURS IN… BERMUDA?

THESE COLOURS DON’T RUN

MANAGERS, MANAGERS, MANAGERS

SUPERSTITIONS OF THE STARS

EARNING THEIR SPURS

LEGENDS AT THE LANE

TOUGH GUYS AND HARD MEN

CHAIRMEN OF THE BOARD

SCORING FOR SPURS

IT’S A HARD LIFE

FAREWELL, BILL NICHOLSON

THE DREAM IS OVER

ODD-SHAPED BALLS

Copyright

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‘I have many fond memories of working with Roy, first with the reserves and then the first team. Roy is a true professional and could always be relied upon. We became colleagues in October 1984, and Roy’s knowledge and experience were invaluable to me in those early days as we forged a great working relationship. That quickly became an even greater friendship. Roy is a credit to the club, and one thing is for certain: he is Spurs through and through.’

Doug Livermore

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I was equally obsessed with my autograph book: you could read every single autograph, as the handwriting in those days was good and old-fashioned. Those albums were outstanding; I used to buy magazines and newspapers and pictures from the Spurs shop, and I would stick them in those books, all in perfect order, and all of them signed. I was fanatical about the players being in order and everything laid out ‘just so’.

Around this time, Roger and I got into Subbuteo. I quickly became obsessed with it, and soon I had 54 teams. My first was Motherwell, because I was taken by their red and yellow stripes. I had the floodlights, the stadium, the crowd, the works – Roger and my sister really spoiled me. I had league tables, held FA Cup competitions and had books and books of scores from the myriad games that Roger and I would play against each other. It was a miracle my sister didn’t ask for a divorce, the amount of time Roger spent with me and not her! It was safe to say they looked after me like a son.

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