Decade Flashback vi Gramps Ron Phillips:Remembering Bowles
Dec 15, 2011 19:03:39 GMT
egranger likes this
Post by gramps on Dec 15, 2011 19:03:39 GMT
[Macmoish: Bumping, always with sadness, when think of Gramps. But he left behind some great QPR Memories - both of his own and from what he filed]
[Originally titled by Gramps "The latest from Ron Phillips: Remembering Bowles!"
As promised:
ANOTHER FINE MESS YOU'VE GOT ME INTO, STANLEY
By Ron Phillips
During the 7 years Stan Bowles was at QPR, I often used to remark that he and I would be buried in the same grave one day. During those years, Stan was forever dogging my heels, walking into my office, encountering me in the street and always, but always, asking for a "sub" on his wages.
The first intimation of what life would be like with Stan was when we signed him from Carlisle United in 1972. Manager Gordon Jago had phoned me at 4 a.m. to ask me to meet him at Euston: we were off to sign "a brilliant new player" from Carlisle. So I was rather short of sleep when I first met Stan but I recall him as being one of the nicest players ever to join Rangers, extremely well brought up, with a charming personality and scrupulously polite to everyone he met.
The transfer deal was completed remarkably quickly and, as Gordon and I were leaving the club to catch a train back to London, Stan asked me if I could spare a moment. He wanted a £20 sub "to clear up a few things before he left Carlisle". As he was entitled to a large percentage of his transfer deal, I gave it to him without a thought. Back in London, he needed another sub the next day. And the next. And the next.
As I subsequently learned (and as he has always admitted himself) Stan was an inveterate gambler and, as a result, was constantly short of money. The problem was compounded in his case, however, as he didn't get much money in the first place. A malicious judge had made a maintenance order against him when he got divorced, which entailed giving rather more money to his ex-wife than he actually earned from Rangers. As Stan's employer, I had to take the case back to court to inform the judge that Football League regulations prevented us from paying out more money than was provided for in his contract. The judge grudgingly relented and changed the award to one which exactly removed every penny of Stan's wages.
The case was widely reported in the media and I was depicted as a heartless so-and-so who had grabbed back the pittance Stan was giving his ex-wife. One could picture me calling at her house every morning to snatch the cornflakes out of the mouths of his children. As a result, I attracted the unwelcome attention of the Feminists.
I started receiving sackloads of mail each day from women who threatened unspeakable things they would do to me unless I started paying more money to Mrs Bowles. One afternoon, my secretary came into my office to advise me not to leave the club by the front entrance. "Why?" I asked. "Because there's a woman outside hiding behind a wall with a brick" was the answer. I left the club for some time thereafter by walking across the pitch and out of the Ellerslie Road entrance. As far as I know, the woman with a brick is still hiding behind that wall.
From that time onwards, a day without Stan desperately requiring a sub was a rare occurrence. On one occasion, a home game was taking place in which QPR were winning 1-0 at half time. A few minutes after the half time whistle, Stan dashed into my office in full match strip, asking if he could have a sub for the match bonus. I said "But Stan, we haven't won yet!" He replied "Don't worry, Mr Phillips - I'll win it for you!" And sure enough he did, scoring a superb goal to achieve this.
After the match, I gave Stan his sub. I stress that he was entitled to this win bonus - he never asked for or received an illegal payment.
The pressure on me intensified, however, when Stan Bowles was joined by his mate, Don Shanks, a good player who was almost as great a supporter of the gambling industry as Stan. I had formed the habit of leaving my office cautiously to see if Stan was lurking anywhere. If I spotted him at the end of the corridor, I would leave the club as fast as possible in the other direction.
One lunchtime my secretary whispered to me on the intercom that there was no escape that day: Stan Bowles was waiting at her end of the corridor and Don Shanks had staked out the other end. I would have to pass by one of them and, faced with a combination of Don Shanks' persuasive talents and Stan Bowles' charm, I would end up forking out a sub to them.
There was only one way out: through the window. My office was on the first floor of the South Africa Road stand, about 20 feet above the pavement. There was a sheer drop beneath me but I could see a few handholds in the bricks ..... I decided to try it. A pity no Fleet Street photographer was around that day to capture the sight of the Secretary of one of the Football League's top clubs leaving his office by a slightly unorthodox route. I made it intact and took off at high speed for White City tube station. Don and Stan waited another hour or two before my secretary advised them they weren't going to get a sub this time.
Came the day when Stan concluded his glorious career at QPR and we sold him to Nottingham Forest. By coincidence, it fell to me to drive him up to Nottingham and hand him over to his new manager, Brian Clough. The journey was a dangerous one: we had picked a night when a howling blizzard made driving along the motorway very tricky indeed. At one moment, when my windscreen became covered in sleet and the wipers stopped working, I recalled my joke that I would be buried with Stan Bowles.
But we eventually made it and I took Stan in to meet Brian Clough. It was a most peculiar meeting: Mr Clough completely ignored Stan, his most valuable new signing, and spent 20 minutes talking to me and offering me drinks. I eventually escaped, saying goodbye to Stan and thanking him for all he had done for Rangers.
As I drove away, I fancied I heard Stan asking his new secretary for a sub.
[Originally titled by Gramps "The latest from Ron Phillips: Remembering Bowles!"
As promised:
ANOTHER FINE MESS YOU'VE GOT ME INTO, STANLEY
By Ron Phillips
During the 7 years Stan Bowles was at QPR, I often used to remark that he and I would be buried in the same grave one day. During those years, Stan was forever dogging my heels, walking into my office, encountering me in the street and always, but always, asking for a "sub" on his wages.
The first intimation of what life would be like with Stan was when we signed him from Carlisle United in 1972. Manager Gordon Jago had phoned me at 4 a.m. to ask me to meet him at Euston: we were off to sign "a brilliant new player" from Carlisle. So I was rather short of sleep when I first met Stan but I recall him as being one of the nicest players ever to join Rangers, extremely well brought up, with a charming personality and scrupulously polite to everyone he met.
The transfer deal was completed remarkably quickly and, as Gordon and I were leaving the club to catch a train back to London, Stan asked me if I could spare a moment. He wanted a £20 sub "to clear up a few things before he left Carlisle". As he was entitled to a large percentage of his transfer deal, I gave it to him without a thought. Back in London, he needed another sub the next day. And the next. And the next.
As I subsequently learned (and as he has always admitted himself) Stan was an inveterate gambler and, as a result, was constantly short of money. The problem was compounded in his case, however, as he didn't get much money in the first place. A malicious judge had made a maintenance order against him when he got divorced, which entailed giving rather more money to his ex-wife than he actually earned from Rangers. As Stan's employer, I had to take the case back to court to inform the judge that Football League regulations prevented us from paying out more money than was provided for in his contract. The judge grudgingly relented and changed the award to one which exactly removed every penny of Stan's wages.
The case was widely reported in the media and I was depicted as a heartless so-and-so who had grabbed back the pittance Stan was giving his ex-wife. One could picture me calling at her house every morning to snatch the cornflakes out of the mouths of his children. As a result, I attracted the unwelcome attention of the Feminists.
I started receiving sackloads of mail each day from women who threatened unspeakable things they would do to me unless I started paying more money to Mrs Bowles. One afternoon, my secretary came into my office to advise me not to leave the club by the front entrance. "Why?" I asked. "Because there's a woman outside hiding behind a wall with a brick" was the answer. I left the club for some time thereafter by walking across the pitch and out of the Ellerslie Road entrance. As far as I know, the woman with a brick is still hiding behind that wall.
From that time onwards, a day without Stan desperately requiring a sub was a rare occurrence. On one occasion, a home game was taking place in which QPR were winning 1-0 at half time. A few minutes after the half time whistle, Stan dashed into my office in full match strip, asking if he could have a sub for the match bonus. I said "But Stan, we haven't won yet!" He replied "Don't worry, Mr Phillips - I'll win it for you!" And sure enough he did, scoring a superb goal to achieve this.
After the match, I gave Stan his sub. I stress that he was entitled to this win bonus - he never asked for or received an illegal payment.
The pressure on me intensified, however, when Stan Bowles was joined by his mate, Don Shanks, a good player who was almost as great a supporter of the gambling industry as Stan. I had formed the habit of leaving my office cautiously to see if Stan was lurking anywhere. If I spotted him at the end of the corridor, I would leave the club as fast as possible in the other direction.
One lunchtime my secretary whispered to me on the intercom that there was no escape that day: Stan Bowles was waiting at her end of the corridor and Don Shanks had staked out the other end. I would have to pass by one of them and, faced with a combination of Don Shanks' persuasive talents and Stan Bowles' charm, I would end up forking out a sub to them.
There was only one way out: through the window. My office was on the first floor of the South Africa Road stand, about 20 feet above the pavement. There was a sheer drop beneath me but I could see a few handholds in the bricks ..... I decided to try it. A pity no Fleet Street photographer was around that day to capture the sight of the Secretary of one of the Football League's top clubs leaving his office by a slightly unorthodox route. I made it intact and took off at high speed for White City tube station. Don and Stan waited another hour or two before my secretary advised them they weren't going to get a sub this time.
Came the day when Stan concluded his glorious career at QPR and we sold him to Nottingham Forest. By coincidence, it fell to me to drive him up to Nottingham and hand him over to his new manager, Brian Clough. The journey was a dangerous one: we had picked a night when a howling blizzard made driving along the motorway very tricky indeed. At one moment, when my windscreen became covered in sleet and the wipers stopped working, I recalled my joke that I would be buried with Stan Bowles.
But we eventually made it and I took Stan in to meet Brian Clough. It was a most peculiar meeting: Mr Clough completely ignored Stan, his most valuable new signing, and spent 20 minutes talking to me and offering me drinks. I eventually escaped, saying goodbye to Stan and thanking him for all he had done for Rangers.
As I drove away, I fancied I heard Stan asking his new secretary for a sub.