Cheering Oldham at Wembley is still a dream

GOING to Wembley with Roughyeds has been a dream of local people for generations and it's just as relevant today as it was 50 years ago.

As Oldham still have a tilt at the Wembley target in 2025, with a chance of reaching the mecca of both football and rugby league in the 1895 Cup, you've only to read Mike Dunkerley's excellent poem to see the fans can still dream of following their team to that world-famous stadium in North London, just as they have been doing for nearly a hundred years, despite that heavy defeat in the Challenge Cup by Super League leaders Hull KR.

The bookies made KR, who reached last year's Grand Final at Old Trafford, colossal favourites to beat the Championship new boys, so it was certainly no surprise for Oldham to go down as they did, urged on by fantastic support to the bitter end. So all our hopes of getting to Wembley for the first time now hinge on Barrow's visit to BP in early April. Thanks to the AB Sundecks 1895 Cup, the dream is still alive.

That tough-as-teak loose-forward Derek 'Rocky' Turner once told me: "If we had gone there with the Oldham team of the fifties, we'd have turned Wembley inside out and back again with the speed and intelligence of our rugby. It wasn't to be — the biggest setback, I think, in the history of our sport."

I was reminded of that classic quote when I met up again with former Royton Cricket Club player Mike Dunkerley, the poem's author, at the funeral of Kay Broomhead, dear and devoted wife of former Oldham RL scrum-half Billy Broomhead. The Dunkerley's and the Broomheads have been friends for years.

Billy would never claim to be 'another Pitchy' but he was a good player from Tenby; he was devoted to the Oldham club; and he was, and still is, a loyal and long-time very active member of the Players' Assn. Kay was a hard worker for the Association, too, hence the good turn-out of high-profile members at her funeral.

Mike Dunkerley was there as a family friend and it was good to chat with him about the old days at The Paddock, where he played for Royton CC, and, particularly, his days at Watersheddings as a supporter, first as a boy and then as a very young man , watching the great side of the fifties and penning this poem.

It's well worth a read --- and it needs no further comment from me.

HAPPY DAYS AT ‘SHEDDINGS when Owdham had a team,
Of Rugby men, a game called League, the best there’s ever been,
Roughyeds in the fifties were the greatest team on earth,
They battered opposition for all that they were worth,

Ken Jackson, Keith and Dufty and Charlie Winslade too,
They played up front and got stuck in like no one else could do,
And when it came to kicking goals then Bernard was the best,
The red and white, those famous hoops, worn proudly on his chest,
There were many well-known others who played up on the hill
But the King was Alan Davies, a man who’s worshipped still,

The Penny Rush, Committee Seats, the Stand on Herbert Street,
All witnessed opposition who left the field well beat,
The pitch was mud, the crowds were big, some twenty thousand often,
Saw Turner, Vines and Little the opposition soften,

And not forgetting Kellett, Johnny Noon, Vince Nestor too,
Attacking backs with ball in hand who knew just what to do,
Cracknell, Ayres and Etty were members of the team
With Pitchford, Stirrup, Daley some others on the scene
They made the breaks and scored the tries like no one else could do.

The crowd all cheered their local team, and waved their rattles too,
There was no Sky nor BT Sport, ‘twas a game not often seen,
Less Uncle Eddie from the Beeb just happened on the screen,

The players played for peanuts, a few quid heaven sent,
Trained twice a week, then had a pint, and back to work they went,
Sometimes there were bonuses, some extras in their boots,
But they still turned up in working clothes, not fancy sponsored suits

There was no sport on Sundays it was then against the law
So they played a game on Christmas Day and Boxing Day and more
And New Year’s Day had fixtures but the team did not complain
They just got changed, put on their boots and played a game again

No substitutes, no warming up, just loads of wintergreen
Thirteen Owdham players all proud to be in t’team
No Physios, no Agents, no special parking spot
A man with sponge and bucket was all the players got,

No floodlights in those far off days, no night time games to see
The supporters hut sold Oxo, or just a cup of tea.

Spectators came on buses with few cars on the road
From pubs and shops and mills and mines the Roughyeds to behold

Flat capped men made up the crowd with woodbines in their hand
And ladies came as well to see the best team in the land
Programmes cost a tanner to see the teams that day
Then find the ref, that man in black, was “Sergeant Major Clay”

The highlight of a Saturday as everyone will say
“ Green Final’ had the headlines that Owdham won away
At far off grounds in Cumberland no motorways back then
So Barlow’s Coaches took the fans to see the thirteen men

They changed in th’owd Pavilion, a building decades old.
A legacy of years gone by but what stories could be told
Of Oldham Brewery bitter and the much missed Oldham Chron
A Bob a Pint and 9 Card Don, the memories linger on
Pie and Peas, a tap room bar, then sited further back
A practice pitch for Rugby teams inside a Greyhound Track
The one regret about this time that everyone will say
Was not to have their lifetime wish and walk down Wembley Way
The final tie to win the Cup, fulfil a long held dream

A victory ride down Union Street and knighthoods for the team

Oh happy days remembered when Owdham had a team,
The concrete walls all round the ground are only but a dream
There are houses now on hallowed turf, with clapped out stands long gone
They’ll talk for years about “that” team as memories linger on,

But as a sport mad boy from Royton, Red Scarf and crew-cut hair
I can say with happy memories “AT ‘SHEDDINGS I WAS THERE”