Best footballer you have played with or against

[jimmyscoular]

I wrote about this experience in 2006

I helped promote a charity match and this is what happened next

March 2006

"I put up a story on the cardiffcity-mad website to help promote a match between a Cynon Valley Select XI and an Andy Legg Legends XI. All monies raised going to LATCH, the Llandough based Cancer Charity.


As an afterthought and half jokingly I mailed the Cardiff stadium announcer, Wayne, and said if it'll help bring a few more people in I'll play if there's a space. My thought being that a few of the messageboard users might make the effort to come and have a laugh at my expense. Anyway Wayne contacted the organinser, Nigel, from Heatwise (who sponsored the evening and did a superb job) and he said of course, come along you'll get 5 mins to have a run out.
Well my confidence soon drained. It was then it dawned on me that this was not a kickabout with a few mates. I'd already named a few names in the promotion story. Andy Legg, Jeff Eckhardt, Roger Gibbins, Stuart Cable and Garin Jenkins. These were serious personalities (to City fans and Welshmen), whereas I'm, well just me.

It took me all weekend to tell anyone what I was doing. God help if I had to play in a cup final, i'd turn to jelly. Anyway I psyched myself up, it's only 5 or 10 mins. You'll be OK.

I plugged the event further as matchday approached and told everyone I was playing, or at least being part of the squad. That in itself was something. Then the clock ticked down to Wednesday evening.

I arrived at the sports centre in Aberdare an hour before kick off. Was directed to a room where Paul Wilkinson, Roger Gibbins, Garin Jenkins and some others were having a cuppa. All the Cynon Valley squad were present. Andy Legg came in and was greeted by all present and brilliantly came up to me, knowing who I was, and shook my hand and treated me as one of his team-mates. The Cynon Valley boys all had their photo taken with Leggy and the sponsor, Nigel, wearing their specially made t shirts that commemorated the event.

Then it was a walk to the changing rooms under the main stand. The Ynys or the Michael Sobell Stadium is a smaller version of Leckwith, it has a main stand seating some 250 - 300 people and there is a running track around the pitch. A decent crowd was gathering as I entered the changing area with my big bag containing my kit, gloves, shin pads and embarrassingly new boots. I couldn't find my old ones so a few hours before kick off I was in JJB's sorting myself out (I bet that doesn't happen to David Beckham).

As I adjusted myself to the dressing room I can take in the people in "my" squad. Andy Legg, Mark Walton, Jason Fowler, Roger Gibbins, Paul Wilkinson, Sir Jeff Eckhardt - i've seen all these guys play for City and now at near 40 years of age I'm in the same team as them. Add in Garin Jenkins, former wales rugby international, Stuart Cable, former Stereophonics drummer and a couple of other sporting lads who I can't name I'm sorry and as you can imagine I was a bit overwhelmed.

It promised to be a tough game when it was revealed that the Cynon Valley squad was about 30 in number. We had 14, and three of them were keepers, myself included.

The format was set out. We would play three 30 min periods. In goal for period 1 would be former City keeper Mark Walton. Period 2 would see the second keeper, a chap who manages Aberaman FC, in goals for 30 mins. And then I'd get the third period of 30 mins. Er, excuse me, I was cacking it with 5 - 10 mins. Now I get 30 mins.

My life as a celebrity had stated just before we came out of the dressing room / tunnel. The local kids were allowed to come around the players looking for autographs. Andy sign this, Andy sign that, you can imagine. The guy played a play off final less than 3 years ago. Then bloody hell, a kid wants my autograph. I have arrived. I'm a legend and people want my signature.

Several programmes signed and the whistle goes to leave the dressing room for the pitch. Out we run into a blustery evening, still light at 7.15, onto a very heavy and wet pitch. I'm trying to focus on being a squad member but the fact that somewhere around 400 or possibly more people have turned up to watch was freaking me out a bit. All the players joined together for a collective photo (i'm sure that will surface somewhere soon) and then it was kick off time.

This was a proper game. Not a few lads having a lark. We had proper officials and two teams who did not hold back. The Cynon Valley lads went for it in the first 30 mins. Both teams competed well but the cutting edge the younger and fitter lads had meant they battered poor Mark Walton and the first 30 min section ended with the Cynon valley 5 - 0 up.

Back into the changing room, water, lucozade or tea on offer before taking the field again. During the first two periods I was on the far side opposite the stand (out of earshot of those who wanted to have a pop at me), I watched as the second keeper kept a clean sheet and the middle section ended 0 - 0. By this time the wind had whipped up and the rain had started to fall.

Then it was my turn. Here I am in goals in a team with Leggy and the names I mentioned earlier on my team. It's the nearest I have got or am ever likley to get to play for a Cardiff City team. After seeing Mark Walton concede 5 my initial aim was to keep them to under 10 during my watch. For the opening 5 mins my team-mates kept the ball far away from me. Then they Cynon Valley team found space on the edge of the box. A shot to the left hand corner, my right, looked to be going wide but I made a dive type movement to see the ball go out for a goal kick. No big effort as I then passed to Roger Gibbins and he cleared up field.

The battle raged with neither side shirking a challenge. Then a ball over the top saw a Cynon lad racing through, I ran out, dived but missed the ball but was glad to see the linesmans' flag up for offisde. Phew. Goal intact. It didn't take long and they were through again. This time I made contact with the ball as the striker tried to slot it past me. This was on the edge of the box, my save saw the ball go wide left where the winger whacked it high into the air but goalbound. Fortunately I was able to recover and catch the ball at neck height a yard in front of my goal.

The next attack came down their right. Again it was a dash for me to the edge of the box, this time i got contact with the ball and was able to secure possession at the second attempt. My goal was still intact.

The adrenaline was rushing at this stage. The next action for me was to face upto a close range shot from the 6 yard line. I got a decent left hand on it and the ball came back off the post to be cleared.

In between the main attacks I once or twice had a goal kick to take or a punted clearance.

Then disaster. My clean sheet dream was shattered. The attack had the ball on the edge of the 6 yard box. I was expecting a blast into the roof of the net with me helpless but the striker placed it too close to me and I saved but spilled the ball. Desparingly I dived but his co-striker had a tap in and I was devastated.

I saw off two more attacks, one of which resulted in a 50/50 on the 6 yard line that saw the ball cannon off me for a corner but left me with a cut and bruise on my thigh and an extremely sore neck (I think I was taken out) but still made the save and then it was all over. We'd lost my period 1 - 0 but I had cause to be proud of my performance and I was buzzing by then. I felt like I could play all day every day. That lasted until I got up on Thursday morning, I ached like hell.

The game ended with a 6 - 0 Cynon Valley win.

After the game there was more autographs. I signed a ball, a shirt and several programmes. I shared a shower with Andy Legg, Mark Walton and the rest. That doesn't happen every day.

Afterwards we moved to the Legion in Aberaman for a well deserved beer and buffet. Andy Legg left at 10.40 to drive back to Peterborough to be ready to take training in his new job as assistant manager.

It was announced that over £8,000 had been raised so far including money from a walk up Snowdon, money raised on Andy Legg's benefit night by the supporters and the money raised in Aberdare on Wednesday (which was just under £5,000). A sum will be added to that by Leggy after the benefit match. I feel proud to have bee part of the night that raised a decent amount of money.

As the big 4 0 approaches for me I think I may have played my biggest ever game and came away from it head held high. Thank you to Andy Legg and the players who accepted me as one of them. I'll not forget Jeff Eckhardt walking behind my goal saying "Nice saves Mike" or running out of the tunnel to applause and not jeers. Also being asked for my autograph. It does wonders for the ego you know.


Well done to Nigel at Heatwise, his company organised the event in a professional manner and without their support it would never have gotten off the ground.
Speaking after the game Gwyn of the Valley Rams said

"Straight up now and the man ain't paying me, But Mike had a stormer in goals tonight, Walton the ex City Pro let in 5 whilst they only got one past Mike, He really played well, no bull."

Paul Corkery also of the Rams said

"The third period saw the entrance of the legend that is Mike Morris in goals for Leggys team and to be fair to him he played really well and made some good saves before being unfortunate to concede a goal late on."

LOL. A fun read.

I once "played" against Ray "Butch" Wilkins, and, like you, wrote an account of it:

Here it is:

Some years after I realized that I was not, never had been and never would be Superman — that tying a raincoat around my neck cape-style did not confer the gift of flight — my second bubble burst.

These are hard lessons on the long, sad journey from the wonderfully mystic world of childhood into the garish light of reality, but they must be learned.

Lesson number two was delivered decisively on a warm summer day in 1972, when I attended soccer camp at a seaside town in south Wales. The camp was led by Stan Montgomery, a professional English footballer long retired.

We trainees were a bunch of 16-year-olds who thought rather highly of ourselves. And not without reason.

We had won every local league and cup competition and were the team to fear.

So when the universe ordered itself so that the youth team of the great and mighty Chelsea football club happened to be touring south Wales during our camp, and caused them to challenge us to a game, Coach didn’t back down. The debacle that ensued is for the ages.

We made two mistakes during that game. The first was agreeing to play it. The second was scoring the first goal. When that header near the far post went soaring past the Chelsea goalkeeper, a cloud of apprehension descended on me. We had poked the bear. This would not end well.

I know that sounds defeatist, but, hey, these were the cream of Britain’s soccer-playing youth, culled from innumerable rag-tag local teams like ours and placed firmly on the professional track, beneficiaries of the best that professional coaching had to offer. These kids were the future of the game.

My job that day was to guard their left winger, which I gamely attempted to do. The first time the ball landed at his feet I approached him cautiously, but suddenly he was no longer there. Like something out of Harry Potter, he simply disappeared. I looked over my shoulder and he was 20 yards downfield, the ball at his feet. I have no idea what he did to accomplish this Houdini-like feat, but it was the end of any fantasy I might have indulged that the professional game beckoned.

We lost 8-1, and my fecklessness guarding Houdini had much to do with it.

Afterward I asked the name of the kid who had so thoroughly humiliated me.

“Ray Wilkins,” I was told. “He goes by ‘Butch.’”

A year later, at the age of 17, Butch Wilkins was playing for Chelsea’s first team. At the tender age of 18 he was team captain. In 1979, Manchester United came calling.

He captained the England national team 10 times and played in the 1982 and 1986 World Cups.

His career, and universally praised temperament, caused the queen to make him a Member of the British Empire, the same honor once conferred upon The Beatles.

So it naturally caught my attention when I read on April 4 that he had died unexpectedly of a heart attack at the age of 61, my age.

His passing was universally mourned across the English game.

It is perhaps a small claim to fame that Ray “Butch” Wilkins once subjected me to 90 minutes of humiliation, but it’s about the only one I have.

So, good luck to you, Butch. If St. Peter gives you any trouble, which I highly doubt, then just do what you did to me, whatever it was, and you’ll be 20 yards inside the gates before he has a clue what’s going on.