My mate Scotty
Over the years I have made many friends, most of them I still keep in touch with but sadly not all.
I have moved about a bit over the last 30 years and this has made it harder to keep strong friendships going as much as you would want.
Facebook for all its problems has made a big difference to our relationships (if used in the right way) by allowing us to connect with people from our school years or teenage years.
I have personally been able to find friends and have friends find me that I had lost touch with in the 1980s.
Last year I was talking to a couple of friends who I had gone to school with and we recalled that we had last seen each other at the Highbury pitch invasion FA cup semi-final against Wolves in 1982! It took us 20 years to see each other again!
Although we don’t see each other regular we keep up to date through the internet and text and so on, and it’s like the years apart haven’t happened.
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| Les Danny and me Bill Nicolson pub Tottenham 2011 |
My Friend Scotty is one of those people for me.
Although we actually went to the same school Scotty and I did not actually know each other then. He was around 3 years older than me so coming up to his last year as I was starting my first.
We met (as I did with most of my mates) in my teenage years through going to football at Spurs. As I was coming through the ranks Scotty was already a well-established face, and although older than me and my other mate Ricky was happy to accept us as part of the group.
We travelled extensively to away games as I have said in previous blogs by hook or by crook. Scotty was a character his name wasn’t actually Scott at all, this was a nickname he was given at school.
Originally born in London his mum married a Scotsman and moved to the Gorbals in Glasgow.
Apparently this is a really tough area of the city and when the relationship failed and the family returned to London, Scotty had a very strong Glasgow accent.
By the time I had become friends with Scotty his mum was in a relationship with an Irish fella and he and his brother were living with the family in a flat in Hoxton. Scotty had a brother and two little sisters. Scotty was a tough guy who could well handle himself. Scotty was also a bit of a ducker and diver. He knew the way things worked and made it work for him.
Even though he was only about 20 at the time he was already married. But this was a marriage of convenience. He married a girl from Eastern Europe so that she could get a passport. He was well paid for this service, remember at this time there was no freedom of movement and so people setting up this scam could earn big money.
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| me and Scotty new year 1983 |
Scotty did have a bit of a reputation within the estate where he lived. He was known not to be messed with. He had a quick temper as well and once he went off on one that was it get out of the fucking way!
I was on the estate one day with a friend from Broxbourne named John. We were waiting for Scotty to get his stuff from his mums flat as we were off to John’s house for the weekend.
It was the summer so no football to go to, so the next best thing was a weekend on the piss.
The flats that Scotty lived in were the real old style not the tower block type but the three or four stories with walkways all along the front.
As we were sat there all of a sudden we saw Scotty running along the balcony! We jumped up as he shout “Fucking get him”
It was then I realised he was chasing someone, so like the good mates we were we ran to assist. The target managed to get out of one block and started up the stairs of another.
With Scotty taking the stairs on the left John and me went up the stairs on the right! So as he ran along this balcony he was confronted by us. Straight away you could see in his eyes that he knew he was bang in trouble!
He turned from us to see Scotty heading his way. This was when the “Scott mate you OK” bravado started. In London in those days the boys had a certain swagger you know the sort shoulders back springing from one foot to the other swinging your arms. This was how he approached Scotty trying to show he wasn’t some Toby.
Scotty though was having none of it “don’t fucking mate me I aint ya mate” he snarled at the guy grabbing him by the Fila tracksuit top he was sporting. “Am I some sort of cunt to you? Well am I” “Nah man course not” was the reply “well why you trying to mug me of then”?
“It’s just a misunderstanding I never took anything I promise” the swagger had gone it was all about damage limitation now.
Before another word could be said Scotty had this fella up against the balcony wall and was trying to throw him over. Seeing the enormity of the situation John and I ran and grabbed the guy who by this time had his full torso hanging in mid-air with his feet off the floor.
Scotty was determined he was going over the top! It wasn’t a massively long way down but it would cause serious damage and the fella knew it.
John and I held on for dear life as the guy was pleading to be pulled back in!
Then out of the blue the mist seemed to clear, Scotty grabbed him harder and we pulled him in.
As soon as he felt his feet firmly on the floor he was gone like a shot, we all looked at each other like what the fuck was that all about? Apparently he was a friend of Scotty’s brother and he had been accused of lifting some jewellery from the flat. That is really not the thing to do.
When he had gone to get his stuff he had noticed the guy coming out of another flat. The theft was not a new thing it had happened months before, but he had been avoiding being seen.
Inevitably at the first opportunity the red mist of revenge descended and the chase was on!
He was a very lucky boy that day as I have no doubt what could have happened has John and I not been there.
On a separate occasion when we had been out drinking at the end of the night we felt a kebab would be the answer (as you do).
And so we went along to the local kebab house, this was not the takeaway style you see today it was a proper sit in and eat off of china style. It was a really nice place.
Being pissed however does mangle your brain and for a laugh we decided to do a runner. (I know stupidity of youth) So as the guy at the counter was busy carving we were off on our toes.
I was very thin then and to be fair fast but the sight of a geezer with a kebab knife in his hand behind you made me just that bit faster! I shit you not. As we were running down the high street towards the grave yard I heard a crash, still running but looking behind me I could see in the distance that Scotty had hit the deck.
Within seconds a couple of kebab knife wielding Turks were on top of him. Now he may well be game but he wasn’t a fucktard, Scotty knew unarmed you’re bolloxed against a big knife like that. So as one stood over him the other Turkish guy pulled Scotty’s money from his pockets, not just the kebab money but all his money, an off they went shouting cusses at him in their own language.
By the time I got back to him Scotty was livid he was shouting and swearing and going mad. “Those cunts have nicked my money” he was shouting “that’s it I’m sorting them wankers out”. He could not be calmed down the irony of the situation was lost on him, he had been wronged in his eyes!
Once again the red mist had descended and there was no reasoning with him.
“Give me my money you thieving cunts” he began to shout after the Turks as he headed towards them, however these guys were no push overs they turned and faced him waving the kebab knives as if to say “come and get it”.
As I said he wasn’t an idiot he was just angry so without thinking he punched the nearest thing.
The trouble was the nearest thing happened to be a 15 foot plate glass window for a clothes shop.
Let me tell you that sort of glass is hard but he put his fist straight through it.
My god was there an almighty crash as the window collapsed, but then on came the alarm and so we ran and kept running. It was only when we were a safe distance away when we stopped Scotty noticed the damage he had done to his hand.
There was blood pumping all over the place, clearly the running had not helped.
Next stop Hackney hospital, in the end I think he had around 70 stitches in the wound with about half of them being internal. The next day he had a knock on the door from the police. They had actually followed the trail of blood from the window to the hospital and so it cost him in compensation and court fees as well!
We actually went back to the kebab shop a couple of weeks later, the guy who owned it just said laughing “you gonna behave tonight boys, or am I gonna have to chase you again”?
We did have to pay for our food upfront after that but there was no hard feelings.
Scotty was a nightmare there is no denying and he was also a rogue but if he was your mate he was a diamond. He got me the job at the factory where I met my wife and he had my back on more than one occasion during those years.
I lost touch with him and that is a shame but my memories of him in those days will stay with me that’s for sure.
Did you ever make contact again mate??
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