Dave Wagstaffe - Waggys Tales: An Autobiography of Dave Wagstaffe

WAGGYS TALES

Dave Wagstaffes four decades at Molineux

Dave Wagstaffe

First published in 2008 by The Breedon Books Publishing Company Limited ISBN: 978-1-85983-621-7

This edition published by The Derby Books Publishing Company Ltd in 2011 ISBN: 978-1-908234-07-0
3 The Parker Centre, Mansfield Road, Derby, DE21 4SZ.

DAVE WAGSTAFFE, 2008

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holders, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover other than in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

Contents

Foreword

This book has been solely written by myself in its entirety. Why did I write it? Because I wanted to share with you some of the untold stories from behind the scenes during my time at Molineux. As well as the humorous side of things I also wanted to put the record straight on some of the more serious incidents that arose. I have also tried to show you how life as a professional footballer was not all it was made out to be. It certainly was a wonderful career, but as you will discover it was a very bumpy ride at times. As with any job there were many ups and downs, but as a footballer you could have more than 30,000 people watching you when you were on a downer. I have endeavoured to share with you many of these highs and lows and tales of our travels throughout Europe and across the world. My life at Wolverhampton Wanderers spanned four decades and I am sure that you will be surprised to read of some of the interesting happenings during that period.
I have written over 100,000 words freehand and would like to thank Steve Gordos for the many hours he spent typing it out for me.

Dave Wagstaffe
April 2008

Maine Road to Molineux

How did I get from Maine Road to Molineux? I suppose it all started on Saturday 15 December 1962. Wolves visited City, the match ending in a thrilling 33 draw, and I had one of my better games.
My display that day did not make it a happy occasion for Wolvess young full-back Johnny Harris. He had played a couple of games in August 1961 but broke his leg in the second one against Villa. This was his return to the first team after a 15-month battle to regain his form and fitness and he was unfortunate enough to find me in good form for once. On the hour Wolves switched full-backs so that Bobby Thomson, who would be capped by England the following year, was marking me. I then switched to the right wing, but Bobby merely followed me. I did not fare as well against him as I had done against young Harris, but I had still had a good match. I should have had a goal too, but Fred Davies made a flying leap to keep out my shot just after half-time. That would have made it 41 and it was a crucial save.
Sitting in the big bath after the match, I was aware of someone through the steam, a man in a suit and wearing spectacles. He was asking for me. I stuck up my hand and declared Im here. He leaned over the edge of the bath and shook hands with me. Very well played, young man, he kept repeating. Well done, he said as he disappeared from view in a cloud of steam.
The man in the suit turned out to be Wolves director John Ireland. Impressed with my performance, he vowed that he would one day sign me for his club. He did, but it took two years to come about, by which time he had become chairman. Wolves always did well at Maine Road in those days. This was their eighth successive visit without losing. If my shot had not been met by that superb save from Fred Davies, we might have put a stop to that sequence. Goals were pretty rare for me. I had played in every City League game the previous season, but managed to hit the back of the net just once. However, I was still fairly pleased with life. I was not yet 20, having got into the City side at the age of 17.
Now fast-forward two years. It was 5pm on Christmas Eve 1964. I had just arrived from town in Manchester. Theres been a telephone call for you from George Poyser, my mother said. Poyser was the City manager at the time and my mother added Youve got to ring him back straight away.
Have you any idea what he wanted? I inquired. No, she replied, but it must be important because he insisted you ring the moment you came home.
George Poyser had taken over from Leslie McDowall who, after a long spell as manager, had resigned in May 1963 when City got relegated. Les had not had fantastic results at Manchester City, apart from the 1956 FA Cup Final win over Birmingham City, but they had been a reasonable First Division team for many years. He was not a household name as a manager, but I suppose he will always be remembered in football circles for his invention of the Revie Plan playing Don Revie as a deep-lying centre-forward. In the early 1960s the team began to slide and Les paid the price when they went down. George Poyser, who had been his chief scout and assistant, took over.
I had been at the club for five years, joining them on leaving school to become a ground-staff boy and eventually moving through the ranks to become a first-team regular. I had played 144 League games for City by this time and I was becoming very disillusioned with the way the club was being run and the lowly position they were in. It was bad enough living in the shadow of United all the time, but now it seemed the club were going nowhere fast. Who could have forecast that Joe Mercer and Malcolm Allison would breeze into Maine Road and take City to the Second Division title, the First Division title, the FA Cup, League Cup and European Cup-Winners Cup? I had let my feelings be known to the management towards the end of 1964 and suggested that my future in football might be better elsewhere. Little did I know that this was to be sooner rather than later.
I rang the number that George Poyser had left with my mother. It turned out to be his home number, which was a novelty in itself; it was unheard of for a player to have the managers home number. George answered. Hello, I said, you left a message for me to ring you.
Yes, he replied. Now listen carefully. George always spoke with a dour, unexciting voice and went on Wolves want you.
Oh, I stammered, quite taken aback.
Meet me at Maine Road, 10 oclock Boxing Day morning, he continued. Pick up your boots then well drive to Wolverhampton. If you sign you play for them; if you dont, you come back and play for us. Dont be late.
The phone went down and I thought Merry Christmas to you too, George. He had just spoken to me as though I was off to play for some Sunday morning football team.
As you can imagine, Boxing Day 1964 meant there was virtually no traffic on the M6 at 10am, so we made good time down to Junction 13, which at that time was where the motorway ended. We turned off and approached Wolverhampton via Penkridge, Gailey and Fordhouses and I remember thinking what a pleasant area it was. However, the closer we came to Molineux, through Dunstall and up the hill under the railway bridges towards Stafford Street, the worse the surroundings became. Looking back, I can see now why people from the north had a terrible opinion of Wolverhampton, because anybody at that time travelling south had to follow the A449, which went straight past Molineux. In those days everything along that route was virtually falling down. Still, I was not there to admire the view: I had some serious business to attend to.
Our journey to Molineux took about an hour and 15 minutes and I remember being surprised by the number of fans that were strolling about around the ground at that time in the morning. The significance of this I would realise later. I had played at Molineux before, so I was no stranger to the ground, and two of those occasions came to mind immediately. The first was some years earlier when Wolves reserves had won the Central League Championship. In those days it was customary for the champions to play a team selected from the rest of the Central League teams. I was lucky enough to be selected and I still have the commemorative tankard that was presented to each player after the match.