A long time ago I appeared as a guest on a widely reviled Tyne Tees TV football show called, The Football Show (A leather clad John Burridge fronted a rock band, Dean Holdsworth's estranged wife sang You're So Vain...) A friend said he’d buy me a pint for every time mentioned Arthur Horsfield. I got in four references to the former Middlesbrough and Newcastle forward in my ten minutes, and induced Bobby Moncur to say his name twice as well. The I remember it so precisely is testament to the non-stop thrillingness of my life.
The following snippet featured in a beautifully made booklet, The Trophy Room which was produced to coincide with the unveiling of artist Neville Gabie’s sculptures at the housing estate built on the Ayresome Park site. Walking around it a few times with Neville was a strange experience, the neat little Wimpey Homes standing on the centre circle and the Chicken Run, people gardening where Pak Do Ik had struck his shot into the Italian goal.
You can see Neville’s photos of his work by clicking on the link at the end. Or better yet go and visit them.
One afternoon a man shouted abuse at Arthur Horsfield. “Leave him alone. He’s alright,” another bloke countered.
“What do you mean “he’s alright”? He’s useless. Look at him stood there doing nothing.”
“He’s not doing nothing. He’s lurking.”
I bet in spirit Arthur’s here now, ready to pounce on a half-chance from behind a sofa or a pitched-pine shed.