by Neil Baldwin
I first bumped into Neil in the leisure centre one evening after a five-a-side game in the Keele University league. I remember playing pretty well that evening and whilst speaking with Neil was thinking that he might have been down there doing a bit of scouting for Stoke and had been secretly impressed by my performance.
Though I don’t recall that particular conversation in detail, what I do recall is the constant name-dropping. Apparently (according to Neil) he was second in line for the England job when [Glen] Hoddle was appointed. I remember thinking, That can’t be right. But he did sound very convincing.
There were obviously lots of references to Lou and Stoke and also his own team, which he managed. Neil went on to tell me that his team played league clubs’ reserve teams.
I must admit, I was a little unsure as to whether to believe Neil. However, as I was young and naïve, and still a little focused on making it in the game, I gave Neil the benefit of the doubt and agreed to turn out for his team one Sunday morning.
There had been no training sessions and I was a little in the dark as to the standard and whether I’d be able to cut it at the ‘high level’. Still, I thought, if I put in a decent performance Neil would put in a word with the manager at Stoke and I might get a chance of going down to do a few sessions and meet up with my old mate Dean and hopefully impress.
Sunday came and I turned up at the steps of the Union at 9.30 as directed by Neil. The evening before, I’d stayed in to get a decent night’s sleep whilst my mates had gone out to the Golfers (which at that time was pretty bouncing on Saturday nights).
There were only one or two lads there in addition to Neil. I think I was making a bit of small talk with one of the lads I had just met when Neil’s boots caught my attention. Pretty much simultaneously I heard Neil telling one of the lads, he’d be playing centre-mid. He was talking up his game as if he was Hoddle in his prime.
This, in addition to the fact that there was no sign of our coach arriving to take us to the venue and a grand total of five players including Neil meant that I was now having serious doubts as to whether Neil would be my ticket to Stoke City.
A few minutes later, Neil advised us that he’d just been told the game had been cancelled. I went back to my halls at Barnes, tail between legs.
Following that day there were no further appearances for Neil’s team, just the ad hoc meetings with Neil as I bumped into him around the campus. Usually the conversation would be me listening and Neil doing most of the talking.
NEIL
If Jon had stuck with it, I might have been able to make a footballer out of him and got him a trial at Stoke.
MALCOLM
Another Keele student of the time, also called Jon, paid a return visit to the campus after leaving, and found himself sharing an awkward moment with Neil. Everyone concerned was rather embarrassed, except, of course, Neil.
Here’s his story:
As an ex-NBFC player and a director (I think all NBFC players become directors, not that there has ever been a single board meeting – in Neil’s NBFC programme, the list of directors takes up about three pages), Neil was keen to introduce me to the new crop of players who had joined since I left. So he took me on his usual rounds around all the halls, being introduced to the new students. I listened to the familiar lines: ‘That’s a nice-looking jar of curry sauce on your shelf – that’d be lovely with a few chips’; and the disbelieving look on the student’s face that was once my own.
About halfway round, we called at a room in the Oaks [a students’ residence] and in his normal manner Neil hammered on the door and then tried to open it without waiting for a reply. The door didn’t open, so Neil knocked again. Again no reply. We were about to walk away when Neil said that he thought he’d heard something and there was someone in the room after all.
It had already occurred to me that there were going to be people who, for whatever reason, didn’t want to be disturbed, as it was at least 10 p.m., so I tried to encourage Neil to forget it and go on to the next place. But, alas, he was determined. There then followed a conversation, something like this.
Neil: ‘Rob, Rob, are you there?’
No reply
Me: ‘Come on, Neil, let’s go. Even if he is there he doesn’t want to be disturbed.’
Neil: ‘Are you there, Rob?’ (Hammers on door again.)
From the room: ‘Umm, what is it, Neil?’ (Very feeble voice, guilty and awkward-sounding.)
Neil: ‘I knew you were there. Open up, I’ve got one of my old players to meet you.’
Rob: ‘Could it wait till tomorrow, Neil? It’s a bit awkward now.’
Neil: ‘No, he’ll be gone tomorrow. Open up. We won’t keep you long.’
Me: ‘No, Neil. I’ll meet him next time I’m visiting. It’s not convenient now.’
Neil: ‘Come on, Rob.’ (More hammering.)
Rob (swearing under his breath, quick movements occurring in room): ‘Well, just to say hello, then, Neil. It’s not convenient now.’
Me (to Rob): ‘It’s OK, I’ll meet you next time. Come on, Neil.’ (I attempt to physically drag Neil away – no easy task.)
Neil: ‘It’s all right, he said he doesn’t mind.’
At this point we hear the lock open and the door open a fraction. A worried-looking lad with a red face appears at the door, dressed only in a towel around his waist.
Neil: ‘Rob this is Jon, Jon this is Rob.’
Rob and Me: ‘Pleased to meet you.’ (We shake hands and Rob nearly loses his towel.)
Neil: ‘Right, then, Rob, let’s talk football tactics. You can cook us some of that lovely chilli con carne you did the other night – that was lovely.’ (A worried look appears on Rob’s face.)
Me (winking at Rob): ‘It’s OK Neil, I’ve got to get back now, anyway. I’ve met Rob. Now we can go on.’
Neil: ‘OK, then.’
Neil turns away, saying goodbye. Relief starts to spread visibly over Rob’s face. Then Neil remembers something and turns back.
Neil: ‘Hey, Rob, show Jon that Spurs shirt you’ve got signed by all the players.’
Rob: ‘Umm, it’s not here, Neil.’
Neil: ‘Yes it is. I saw it yesterday.’ (Tries to worm his way past Rob, who stands firm.)
Rob: ‘Well, it’s a bit awkward, Neil. You see, I’ve got company.’
Neil: ‘That’s all right. Introduce us. Maybe he could sign up for NBFC.’
Rob: ‘No, Neil. Umm, it’s female company.’
Me (almost shouting): ‘Come on, Neil, time to go.’
Neil: ‘Oh, that’s OK, Rob. Introduce us anyway. I promise not to talk about football too much. [Neil shouts into the room.] All right, duck?’
An embarrassed and annoyed female voice from the room says, ‘Hello.’
By this stage four or five people, mainly in dressing gowns, have gathered in the corridor due to all the noise. Most of them are smirking.
Neil: ‘Get the kettle on, then, Rob, and let’s see that Spurs shirt.’
Without warning, Neil makes an attempt to open the door and catches Rob off guard. He succeeds in fully opening the door, where we see the poor girl desperately trying to cover every inch of herself in the duvet. Whispers start in the corridor. It appears this isn’t the girl who should have been there.
Rob makes a desperate and all-too-late lunge to close the door and in his efforts the towel falls off completely. He desperately lunges for the towel but trips up over Neil’s leg and ends up in the corridor stark naked. People have gathered and the smirks have turned to riotous laughter.
Neil: ‘Well, there’s something you don’t see every day. Anyway, Rob, we’ll get off now, then.’
Rob crawls back into his room and locks the door. A big argument gets going in the room as we leave.
Neil (to me as we are leaving): ‘He’s a nice lad, Rob, but I don’t know what got into him tonight. He wasn’t himself. Anyway, I want you to meet Chris next…’
Back on the campus road, the silhouett
e of two people can be seen in one room throwing things at each other. Neil’s eyesight isn’t perfect.
Neil: ‘That’s Rob’s room, look, he’s waving at us. [Neil waves up at the room.] He’s all right really. I’ll put him in the team for next week. See, I look after all my players.’
But that was only one side of Neil’s relationship with the students. Sometimes he could help when no one else could. He once talked a young female student out of committing suicide. It is a measure of the nature of the relationship that she confided in Neil. On her graduation day her parents thanked Neil for what he had done.
NEIL
I told her that we all have to go sometime, but why go now? And just think how your parents will feel if you do this.
But in 1999 something really awful happened. Lou’s son Jonathan committed suicide. I got on well with him. I thought he was the best footballer out of the three Macari boys. I prayed for Lou and his family and Jonathan. I still do.
MALCOLM
Lou referred to this in an article in The Sunday Times in June 2015:
Life can be tough. It was tough for Neil. It’s tough for everyone at some stage. I’ve a great picture of Neil sitting on a bench with my boy. Neil is wearing a Ninja Turtle outfit. My lad was just there because we had brought him along to the game. At that time he would have been about sixteen. He got on well with Neil; Neil got on well with him.
This is a good indication of the very close personal bond which existed, and still exists to this day, between Lou and his family and Neil. It is much deeper than that between a manager and a kit man.
NEIL
Of course, in 2000, I’d been coming to Keele for forty years. We had a great celebration for my forty years. We had a game between NBFC and the All Stars, which was refereed by Uriah Rennie, who was a very famous referee, and we also had a service of thanksgiving in the chapel and a party.
MALCOLM
I remember the game well. There was even a printed programme for it. I think it was done by the Students’ Union. It even included a personal letter on FA headed paper sent to Neil’s home address from the England manager Kevin Keegan:
14 January 2000
Dear Neil,
I was delighted to learn that special events are being organised for 12 March to help you celebrate your 40th year. It’ll be a great day for you, and the team, and I hope the weather keeps fine for the All Stars match.
I have the honour of being the President of the Neil Baldwin Association Football Club and I send my very best wishes to all the present members, including the players of course.
This is a momentous year for all of us in football terms. I will be taking my England team to Belgium and Holland in the summer and will be hoping we can produce performances that will make the whole country proud of us.
With kind regards,
Kevin Keegan
My daughter Zara and I turned up after it had started. As we walked across the Keele playing fields we could see the game under way in the distance. I said to Zara, ‘That ref looks a bit like Uriah Rennie.’ As we got closer, I said, ‘It is Uriah Rennie.’
Uriah at that time was one of the top referees in the country. This was extraordinary even by Neil’s standards. I wondered whether Uriah had been misled about who exactly was playing in this game.
Nigel Johnson, a football commentator for BBC Radio Stoke, was there too, and he was as surprised as I was even though he’d been warned. ‘Come and support my team Saturday, Nigel,’ Neil had said to him. ‘I’ve got Uriah Rennie reffing.’ Nigel thought: ‘Yes, and pigs will fly’ but he turned up anyway to support Neil.
Nigel knew Neil well from long before Neil became Stoke City kit man. Before Stoke matches Nigel would do vox pops in the radio van at the entrance to the ground, getting fans to give their opinions. Some fans went shy, or couldn’t get their opinions out, but when he saw Neil, he always knew it was going to be all right. ‘Neil loved to pontificate, he loved to be there, he enjoyed the limelight, and if he disagreed with you he’d say so. He was a very good interviewee, always ready with an answer but economical with words.’
That day, as Nigel walked towards the pitch, I thought, ‘I don’t believe it, that IS Uriah Rennie.’
Uriah is indeed a very good friend of Neil’s. He explains how their friendship started, how he came to be refereeing the game and his view of Neil:
I first met Neil when I was a Football League linesman. When I was officiating at Stoke he was always there outside the entrance.
From 1998 onwards I was a Premier League referee. Once, we did some training sessions at Keele University, including refereeing some tournaments which were on there. Neil watched our training sessions. You could tell he was genuine and approachable.
We went for a walk, but because we were not geography students we got lost and ended up in the Students’ Union. Neil was there and he came to talk to us. When we were walking around, we didn’t carry any money but we ended up having a few beers in the union. I think this is because Neil had got other students and other people to buy the drinks. In fact, I’m not sure I can ever remember seeing Neil going to a bar.
He told me he had got this team who would be playing a big game and would I referee it? I said that if I’m in the country I’ll do it. When I got onto the International list, he always seemed to know my appointments and when I was going to Europe. I don’t know how he knew this because it was before the widespread use of the Internet.
But, once I say I’ll do something, I make sure I do. Neil did tell me that some big personalities would be there and playing. But it’s important to understand that those people weren’t the driver to me agreeing to do it. After all I was refereeing superstars anyway every week.
I did it because of Neil, because I class him as a friend and an inspiration, because he continues to do all that he does. People do not always understand the relationship we have. Talking about his so-called disabilities, it’s all about ability, not disability. It’s about friendship and having a very positive attitude.
He displays focus, determination and a will to succeed, no matter how small or large the task. If he says, ‘I will phone X’ he goes away and does it. He displays such a positive attitude to life and its challenges. This is something I want to pass on to my little ones. He’s a great model for anyone, regardless of whether they have any disability or not, in chasing his goals. You couldn’t put a cash amount on the influence he’s had on my conscience and my commitment to help worthwhile causes. Others like me give what’s a little bit to them, but it’s a lot to him.
He’s been at Keele all these years and every year he has to re-evaluate and change his relationships because the students change, and create new relationships, but he does that very well.
I remember driving across from Sheffield for that game and, when I got there, wandering around to find it. I got changed and had my boots in my hand. The students were all very jovial, saying, ‘What are you doing here? How has Neil got you to do this?’ Neil had promised that he would get me two linesmen – or assistant referees, as we call them nowadays. But, when I arrived, it turned out to be two of his squad players who weren’t playing, his mates; he just told them that they were to be assistant referees.
MALCOLM
One of those linesmen was Peter Whieldon, who, as we have seen, had played football with Neil as a child, and encountered him as Father Christmas years later in the union. He recalls:
I heard about the game and turned up to watch. Neil saw me and just told me to run the line. At the end of the game Uriah gave a dubious penalty. I think it was to give Neil the chance to score, which he did, although I think the kick had to be retaken a couple of times after Neil had missed because the keeper was supposed to be off his line. He didn’t seem to make much of an effort to save the one which went in, and Neil turned round in celebration with his elbow bent and his finger in the air.
NEIL
Not many keepers save my penalties if they obey the rule and stay
on their line. A good referee like Uriah will always spot one who doesn’t.
The service of thanksgiving for my forty years was taken by my good friend Keith Sutton, the Bishop of Lichfield. Just as for my thirty-years’ service, Malcolm and Steve Botham were both there again, but this time they were talking in the service about my life, which was marvellous. It was another lovely service.
MALCOLM
Neither Steve nor I had realised that the other was going to be there and we had the same role. Neil had forgotten to mention it to either of us, so we had to exchange notes hastily to make sure we weren’t just duplicating each other in what we said.
In the vestry with the Bishop as the service was about to start, I said to Steve, ‘The last time we met was at the last one of these.’ The Bishop turned round slightly sharply to enquire, ‘You mean there’ve been other services for Neil?’
‘Yes,’ we said, this being the third. It was clear that Neil had also forgotten to tell this to the Bishop, whose look seemed to indicate that, while perhaps he thought one service for Neil was fine, the idea of three might be excessive. But it was far too late. The service was about to start, and it went fine, including the obligatory Neil solo. Neil, as ever, revelled in the occasion, and it was clear, as it always is, just how much the chapel community at Keele love him.
Les and Mary Bailey were also there, and Mary recalls: ‘The students did a play in honour of Neil’s birthday. An elderly Church Army lady came all the way from Clacton in Essex just for that service. We have a lovely memory of the Bishop sitting on a bench with Neil eating an ice-cream.’