Ivor, in Planet Hollywood, gave us a warm welcome, as we entered the building looking forward to a very, very pleasant day. My son Allen and I once shown in went opposite for a quick partion befecause we were the first to arrive. Once the guests finally arrived, all invited by Harry Harris the man famous for his days with the Mirror, we were with the likes of Paul Miller, who played in that brilliant Spurs team of the late Seventies and Eighties, with Hoddle, Hazard and Ardilles. We were looking forward to an eventful day as usual, for what is the point, and I am one who sees if that is not the case, Plan B.

Then there was Tony Woodcock, a player who could tell you a few stories about Brian Clough, from his days at Nottingham Forest when winning the European Cup. Of course he was the manager that should have became the England boss, but because of those “suits” at the FA being foubnd out for what they are, or are not, he was never even considered.

Today was for the first match af the 2012 European Championships and as usual hopes were high, but not for me.

I first met Tony (Woodcock) in Manchester the year prior at a function with Jeff Powell, where he and John Barnes did their very special impersonation of I Spy.

For those young pretenders, that was a Seventies TV Show, with Robert Culp and Bill Cosby, those two Private Investigators, which still makes a mockery of the racial dispute going on today and, once again I will not accept such allegations. It made no sense to me as a kid in short trousers as in my Park Walk and Kingsley days everybody was the same and when reaching the Secondary Modern, Kingsley, I teamed up with Bill Boyce (Orville was his real name which I changed) and we became inseparable. I say in The Working Man’s Ballet that we ran the school sports, with him being the best cricketer and sprinter and I, the long distance and football. I did open the batting with him also and although I was useful at that level Bill could have went on to emulate his cousin Keith who played for Essex and the West Indies. Bill was without a doubt a young cricketer in that same class, given the opportunity.

Strangely enough at the end of our shooldays I came across the first sign of racial descrimination when Lofty Herman, a professional umpire in those days, asked me to attend a Middlesex net practice and after I replied that “we” would love to come, he said that, “No you, not your friend” which I did not understand at that time, really. I just thought that he thought that I was a good cricketer and he saw something in me and not Bill, but although I say that something must have been in the back of my mind because I did not mention it to my best mate. I think how it dawned on me was as a kid when I went to both The Oval and Lords to watch Surrey and Middlesex mainly when Yorkshire were in town and noticed there were no black players at that time. Although I still don’t like the racialism in life what hurt me most was that Bill was deprived of becoming a star in his sport, just as I did in mine and that would have made a wonderful story. Oh how I wished that Billy could have shown the world his wonderful talent, and trust me, he was absolutely brillliant. Isn’t it a crying shame when something like that happens to someone so innocent and such a cracking young lad, a young boy that wanted to be a cricketer so much yet stopped by his colour. I met Viv Richards years later and told him the story because he came across Billy’s cousin Keith.

Can you imagine the likes of Sir Garfield Sobers – my favourite and Viv being not only being deprived but never being seen on the stages that they graced so often, and not only that but helped make it was it is today.

In my schooldays Gary Sobers was the “main man” and I had to chuckle when he hit that fella Nash for six sixes in one over down in Glamogan, I think?

That could have been Bill, he was that good…..and he copied all of Sobers moves when batting, bowling and fielding, and not only was he so talented he was the best mate a kid could pray for.

When I signed for Stoke City I was told that the great Sir Garfield played for Norton, which is about ten minutes outside the Town Centre and made a beeline there to take a look around, and of course, speak to those who were then when he was. I was delighted to find out that he, if being a footballer, would have fitted perfectly into our Chelsea team of the late 60s and ealy 70s, as would Viv, who played both football and cricket for Antigua.

These are the things that seem to crop up at such events, if only this story coming about when seeing John Barnes and Tony coming together. The other great story here was on that night in Manchester when I got up to speak I spoke about playing against Pele when I was eighteen in a match in Jamaica, and John come up to me after and told me that he remembered that match so well because he was a ballboy on that most wonderful of nights. If only he had made himself known to us because he became one of my all-time favourite English players = well, Jamaican. He was far too good to be English.

Going back to the racial side of things, also attending this gathering was Garth Crooks, who played in the same sides of both Paul and I. He was a young lad in the Potteries when I was playing my finest football, although we were on the brink of breaking up. He was the first young black player to wear a Stoke City shirt, and got his break through continually annoying our manager by kicking his ball up against his office wall – when he was there, that is.

The team was broken up after the roof blew off the Butler Street Stand – and was uninsured – which was something that led to this very, very good football team having to be dismantled. This was to lead to several tragedies, although for the great Jimmy Greenhoff and legendary keeper Peter Shilton it became quite the opposite, with Jimmy reaching his one and only FA Cup final and winning it with Manchester United, whilst Peter went to Brian Clough and won the European Cup in 1979. That was a period when England ruled Europe for a few short seasons, Forest actually knocking holders Liverpool out in the first round of the greatest club competition in the world. Not even the Champions League stands up to this once great domestic cup competition, as in those days it was proper cup football, no league basis, a straight knock-out, over two legs, both home and away, the way it should be. But as, Neil Diamond sang, “Money talks, but it don’t sing and dance and, it don’t walk…so, they introduced the Champions League, sometime after they were talking about introducing The Super League. This was the replacement, for having clubs breaking away from their domestic leagues would have caused the kind of trouble that we can only ever think of as Forever in Blue Jeans, those worn by Chelsea supporters, this season gone by.

Here is the most telling photograph of my joining Stoke City although at that moment nobody in their wildest dreams could have come up with such a thing. Here’s Tony Waddington on the right leading out his Stoke City team against us with Dave Sexton doing the same for us in 1972. It was this match that Tony used as a springboard to build his club up to another level, for with the likes of George Eastham and Peter Dobing, the man on his left, coming to the end of their careers, it was me who he looked at to replace the first named. George was one of the great inside-forwards and a man my father would take me to watch regularly at Arsenal after he finished work on a Wednesday night. Was it then also that my father Bill knew that one day this might happen, although I doubt it, when I first told Bill that I had spoken to Tony about the move and agreed terms I was told in no uncertain terms to go through with the move.

Waddington had by then boasted some pretty impressive signings, and even though the great Bobby Charlton, the then Preston manager, told Tony to steer away from the player who most probably reminded him of George, if only for his lifestyle and being so unlike him. Tony, of course, went about his business the way only he knows how and the rest became history, and it has been said by many that I was his greatest signing which was something to behold and be also very proud of. I mean Matthews, Mudie, Vernon, Violett, Dobing, Banks and Greenhoff to name just over a half-a-dozen.

Strange thing is that Waddington, after signing me took us from third from bottom into the UEFA Cup in just over three months and Bobby Charlton got the sack at Preston North End.

Management!

Also, Sir Matt Busby pleaded Tony to take over from him at Manchester United, when you might have thought with Bobby Charlton’s background at Old Trafford he would have groomed him?

Firstly, Stoke were able to sign Banks, still rated the best in the world and, all because of those “fools” in the Leicester City Boardroom apparently took it upon themselves in thinking Banks was finished and, that they had a young lad coming through who could fill his gloves. That lad was Shilton. But it was not that, it was the incredible sum of £35,000 for a keeper who was still right at the top of the goalkeeping pile in world football.

Here we are four years on and most probably in the most precarious of any World Cup build-ups, because if we did not know our best team in 2010 – thanks to the ridiculous Capello – we certainly don’t even now.

I cannot sign off without mentioning Michael Owen who wrote in the Sun newspaper 14.5.14 that England must “ATTACK, ATTACK, ATTACK” adding that we can win the tournament with his bunch of youngsters. How often have I heard that and this coming from a man who disappeared as a player for so long and was last seen flying his helicopter over the Britannia Stadium when contracted to play for them.

How on earth does he get a job giving his views?