Kirjahaku

In 2013, Alan Hodgkinson marks 60 years spent playing and coaching at clubs including Sheffield United, Manchester United and England. This is the story of his life - and the life of the game - in that time.

The PAN American 727 set down on the tarmac of Tacoma International. Out the window Jack could see a gathering of at least a hundred war protesters carrying signs at the entrance to the airport terminal building. "God," he swore under breath. "Not another hot LZ " He had the temerity to believe that after a year risking his life in the name of democracy, that he would return home a welcomed war hero. Instead he is treated with indifference and in some cases downright disdain. Job opportunities are few. And there were his war wounds, the nightmares, flashbacks and hyper-vigilance. A failed marriage after a year is insult to injury. Just when he's on the verge of giving up, the right girl comes along, and dashes the dark clouds away.

Growing up during the height of the Cold War made a dent in my childhood, but there were a series of personal disasters that made a larger dent. I nearly bought the farm from scarlet fever, a black widow nearly killed me with it bite, then occurred a boat accident where I barely survived drowning, and our family house burned to the ground, all of this before I became fourteen.At sixteen I was in a serious car accident which my father blamed on me, and I packed up and left home. I became footloose and fancy-free, transferring from one school to another and working various and sundry jobs around California though the Sixties. My childhood mentor, a neighbor who worked for United Press International told me once that since I was so fond of my paperboy job, I should consider a newspaper career when I grew up. He said that the industry is overrun with those who would sell their own mother downriver for a good story. Someone of such upstanding character and integrity as myself, would be a credit to the Fourth Estate he flattered me.I took to heart his encouragement. I did love my paperboy job. Becoming a newspaper reporter some day, had the natural feeling of graduating from the school of paperboy. On the other hand I thought, who would want to work daily in the slightest union with a bunch of bottom dwellers, those who would as much stoop to sell their own mother downriver for a story? It turns out, as one major life event after another befalls me over the years, a newspaper career seems fitting.Meanwhile, between my many paycheck endeavors, I hawked newspapers on the street from LA to 'Frisco.