SuperGran
Off with her head!
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- Oct 16, 2020
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One of the greats imho. Him, Rodney Marsh, Frank Worthington, Tony Currie - sort of football mavericks if you like. We don't seem to have these type of plyers now; perhaps the game and the money involved has killed them off. We need characters, that's why I loved the Doog and also Peter Knowles, players who broke the mould and the rules. RIP Stan.
Would put Alan Hudson in there as wellOne of the greats imho. Him, Rodney Marsh, Frank Worthington, Tony Currie - sort of football mavericks if you like. We don't seem to have these type of plyers now; perhaps the game and the money involved has killed them off. We need characters, that's why I loved the Doog and also Peter Knowles, players who broke the mould and the rules. RIP Stan.
And Knocker, although he wasn't around as long as we wanted.Would put Alan Hudson in there as well
One of his ex team mates told the tale of when the manager once said 20 minutes before kick off, “Where’s Stan? I need to do the team talk.” Someone replied that he’d just popped out to put a bet on . Apparently he’d gone out in his full kit, wearing a coat over the top of it.RIP Stan
Pint before the game that starts in 10 mins Iv heard a few funny stories about his QPR days
Brilliant. The good old daysOne of his ex team mates told the tale of when the manager once said 20 minutes before kick off, “Where’s Stan? I need to do the team talk.” Someone replied that he’d just popped out to put a bet on . Apparently he’d gone out in his full kit, wearing a coat over the top of it.
According to the paper this was his home matchday routine -RIP Stan
Pint before the game that starts in 10 mins Iv heard a few funny stories about his QPR days
Stan The Man would breeze into the Queen’s Tavern in South Africa Road about half an hour before the 3 pm kick-off, after popping into the corner shop to buy a packet of fags.
He would smoke the first of those cigarettes for luck, down his pint, then stop at the adjacent betting shop to place his bets for the day’s races. He would make it to the home dressing room too late for the manager’s team talk but just in time to pull on his kit and boots and run last out of the tunnel. To roars of acclamation from the crowd.
Whether or not there was a break in play he would drift towards the touchline shortly before half time and call out to a couple of regular fans close to the home dug-out, who would tell him which nag had won the 3.30 at somewhere like Haydock Park.
That would be repeated during the second half for information on more of the day’s races. After the post-match interviews – always jocular affairs win or lose on the gee-gees or in the game -we would reconvene at the pub. Then he would be off carousing through Saturday night with Don Shanks, his team-mate and flat-mate. Perhaps via a punter’s house call at the nearest dog track.
Apart from his flair my greatest memory of him was at the 1980 league Cup final. He didn't play for some reason or another but walked past the Wolves fans on the dog track to the chorus of "Where's your wife gone, where's your wife gone, where's your wife gone Stanley Bowls. With the milkman with the milkman, with the milkman Stanley Bowls!" I remember he gave us a huge smile. I was only 15 so may not remember it too factually.