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Sporting Days
By Phil Giles

(Scoresby Division 1968-73)

Sport was never a top priority at GST (neither was education for that matter) it was something that was supposedly practiced once, or twice a week by the boys, and begrudgingly implemented by the teachers, as a matter of compliance with the Local Education Authority.
Vince Feather was as close as we had to a sports master, the essentials for any top coach were religiously carried, packet of Players and the Sporting Life, were always to be found in his jacket pocket. However, I suppose he did wear the correct attire, a brown corduroy ‘Sports Jacket’, elbow patches and all. His jacket was complemented by coordinated fawn coloured trousers, with sperm stains down the front.
In all my time at GST, I only saw Vince in sports gear two or three times. This kit consisted of an old red Boys High school rugby shirt with navy blue tracky bottoms. These bottoms were the target of much humour from the boys, and as in Vince’s own words there was plenty of room for future expansion (he always did brag and bullshit), this was due to the design of the said garment who’s gusset hung down to his knees.
Nike had nothing on Vince when it came to high tech footwear; his blue canvas yachting shoes were second to none.


GST had a wealth of talent when it came to football, fortunately for other schools none of our so called teachers could organise us into a team capable of inflicting defeats, (Organisation was not a strong point at Sea Training) even a draw was considered a good result which would be read out at assembly by ‘Dacious’, with the associated names mentioned in dispatches.
The performance of GST within the schools league was not a true reflection on the skill of the lads, we had some very good players indeed, who also played for and had great success in other teams outside school.
Good players that come to mind during my period at school would be: -

Kevin Hogg (Col’s cousin) he had trails with Newcastle.
Col Hogg (Tough player)
Syd Watts (GST’s Terrier)
Kev Cowling (Good goalie, even better wicket keeper, played for British Forces)
Kev Hardwick (very skilful)
Frank Bealey (Had some wicked George Best boots)
Nick Barr (Good dribbler)
Nigel Gillmartin (Solid player)
Malcolm Taylor (had an older brother in the school)
Martin and Chris Allen (Little and Large)
Marshy (Can’t remember his first name, also had an older brother in the school)
Colin Watson, Goalie, (the Gordon West of GST)
John, Norman Hunter, Ward, (who I think went into refereeing brave guy)

I’m sorry if I have not mentioned you, I can remember many faces, but the names elude me.

The School Results Book was by kept by Bill Grant in the library. This book was an old tatty hard backed exercise book, which went back at least to 1964. I don’t know if you ever read it but it made great reading if you wanted a good laugh!
After each game one of the boys used to be volunteered by Granty to write up the match report (I had the task to complete on many occasions in the 5th year) Some of my predecessors wrote some highly amusing reports, with examples, from what I can remember such as: -

GST 1…..St Augustine 12
Woody never turned up, Dunny sent off for spitting at the ref.

GST 2……Filey 15
Three players failed to turn up, Dunny sent off for intimidating the opposing keeper.
Blandy scored 3 brilliant own goals.

GST 3……Westwood 7 (Getting better)
Vince turned up to cheer us on, and caused chaos pretending to know about tactics by changing the team order around.
One boy came to spectate with his dad, got sent in goal for been cheeky to Vince.
Dunny sent off for assaulting the referee, kicked the linesman on his way back to the dressing room.
Minor scuffle broke out after the match between GST and Westwood spectators!…..

Every week we used to go on our weekly visit to the playing fields. The 1st and 2nd years used to go on Wednesday, with the 3rd 4th and 5th years going on a Friday morning.
We would march up after morning break to the waiting fleet of Hardwick’s luxury coaches, which would speed us on our way at 20 mph with following trail of billowing black smoke, to the Wembley of school playing fields at Northstead School.
The changing rooms at Northstead where something to be desired to say the least, and consisted of a long wooden shed with a slanting corrugated tin roof fastened on with six inch nails. The wind whistled through the gaps in the boards during in the winter months, giving us an environment similar to the Tundra. The showers were fed by a unique water spring which was so cold it must have derived its source, from Northern Norway…….The changing room odour was unforgettable…Wet feet, Wind and Woodbines !
On a number of occasions we never got to Northstead for some reason or another. One return to school comes to mind when one particular pupil,
(mentioning no names Col) shot the driver in the back of the neck with a pellet, which struck like a Scud missile, temporarily stunning the driver, causing the coach to swerve all over the road. Vince went berserk! and never did find the culprit.
When we turned out to play it was like ‘Benneton United’, there were more different coloured strips than you could envisage, with each boy wearing his favourite team colour’s.
How on earth we Knew who was on each others side I don’t know, but we always managed to have some sort of game, usually about 15 aside.
We were always allocated the top far right pitch. Northstead were not going to let the GST hooligans loose on decent turf. You had to be good at fell running to play on this pitch, and there was always an argument as to who was kicking down hill.
As we waited impatiently for Vince to come out and get us started, we would practice our gymnastics by swinging like Olga Korbett from the cross bar, until we heard those dulcet tones of….’Oyyy! get of that cross bar’….. Ding dong Bell the infamous groundsman. Black beret, bib and brace with pristine wellies, and those trademark national health round glasses, Northstead’s answer to Heinrich Himmler. (I’m not sure if he’s is still alive but I met him on a couple of occasions since leaving school, and he’s a nice guy, and remembered us lads from GST)
Once Vince kicked the ball into the air it signified the start of the match, and all hell was let loose. This was ‘no holds barred’ football at its best,

tripping, punching, eye gouging, biting, kicking, and hair pulling was considered fair game. Vince would purposely turn a blind eye to all this usually muttering something about ‘blithering idiots’ and return to the warmth of Belly's hut to scoff bacon butties and quaff tea, leaving all the poor souls not playing to wander around aimlessly.


GST was never really considered as a cricketing school. The kit, balls, bats, stumps etc were seen more as weapons to conduct medieval barbarity and calculated cruelty on each other.
We did however take part in the inter schools annual tournament, usually held at the Oriel Ground South Cliff.
You could always tell who the GST team were, everyone else was dressed in whites, we were always in black, (school uniforms) we were the laughing stock of the day, both in performance and attire. We did however remove our blazers, to become the ‘Black and Whites’
We never did any good in this tournament, and were usually knocked out in the first round. Vince gave us his usual one hours coaching the day before, and spent most of that time with him batting and all of us trying to bowl him out. He once took one in the goolies, and sent the offending lad to stand under the bell, claiming he had deliberately assaulted him. In reality we were all secretly aiming at him.
We tried our usual GST pack intimidation on the opposing teams, this worked especially well one year against a game with Scarborough College, when Kev Cowling, (who was I think keeping wicket) kept telling the batsman that if he wasn’t out next ball he’d get his coming! after the game. Well we were good at that sort of thing at GST.


We had some good swimmers at GST, and I suppose this was the sport we really excelled in. However the credit must go to those dedicated lads who trained outside school.
We used to go to the North Bay Pool on a Monday morning, usually first lesson, this was the worst time (cheapest option for the school?) in the week to go to the pool, as the water heating system was not switched on.
I remember we all used to freeze our bollocks off. It would be considered child cruelty to force kids into water like that today. I remember the staff never used to go in though, they never did lead the lads by example.
If you couldn’t swim at GST you soon learned with Jack Rippon’s proven fast track swimming course.
This method consisted of him throwing you into 6 or 7ft of water, and stamping on your freezing fingers as you tried to clamber out to save yourself from hypothermia and certain death. Fortunately for me I could swim so I escaped this ritualistic torture.
Again as with footy, all sorts of fighting and scuffling took place in the pool, how none of us ever drowned I will never know. One little lad nearly died one day, and was subsequently dragged out by the scruff of the neck, and was told to pull himself together by Jack, as he lay choking and spewing by the poolside, compassionate guy was Jack.
We actually won quiet a few medals at swimming, which were presented at the end of year assembly by Dacious. These medals were little copper coloured things with your name engraved (probably by Milly) on the back.


My first introduction to GST athletics was in the first year. Jack Rippon would walk us over the cliff to the north bay. He would send us all off running along the Marine Drive to the corner café and back. In the first year we all had the school sports kit (until it was nicked), which if you recall consisted of white tee shirt, baggy navy blue or black cotton shorts, and black plimmies, standard borstal issue. (Our mums used to buy this designer gear for us from Messengers on Eastborough)
So there we all were a disheveled group of 11 year olds been blasted by an icy cold north east wind struggling to get to the corner café. Some of the smokers club would stop for a sly ciggy once well out of sight of Jack.
After about ten minutes the field would spread out, usually there was a leading pack of three or four followed by the remainder of the lads and the stragglers, who would be struggling to fight for breath like a condemned man in the gas chamber. We all eventually battled our way into a gale force head wind back to the welcoming hands of Jack, and staggered exhausted back to school.
Every year we would hold our sports day at Northstead. Why we ever did this I’m not sure because we never had any form of athletic coaching throughout the year. We would take part in all sorts of races, high jump, long jump etc. Throwing the javelin was banned for obvious reasons, could you imagine one in the hands of some of our mates ? there would have been a murder!
Duncan Scott, I remember was a natural athlete, probably the best GST ever had, but his parents removed him from the school to improve his education.
Hazey always officiated the long and high jump. He would stand there with his clip board ordering every one to jump, poor old Tommy Newton got roped in to the high jump one year, for laughing (he was just spectating at the time).
Tom, dressed in school uniform, came hurtling down the runway building up to a crescendo of bodily momentum (Tom was no light weight), Tom jumped about 6’’and went crashing through the bar like a steam roller into the sand pit behind, Hazey wasn’t to pleased with this effort as he had been hit somehow with the bar support as it fell down, this caused complete spontaneous laughter from half the school who were watching.


We used to have a badminton net we could set up during lunch breaks and after school. I don’t know where they acquired the net but it was full of holes and tatty. I suspect it was a bit of old fishing net brought in by one of the boys.
All the school rackets were bent and had strings missing, and the ropes and beams in the gym used to obstruct a lot of high shots, however we had some good fun and even managed to produce some half decent players.

Staff Sports

Hazey used to play darts and dominoes for the Rosette at Scalby, but I think this was just an excuse given to his wife to get him out the house for a pint.
None of our teachers were what you might describe as physical specimens, Vince used to think he was an Adonis of perfection, and always tried to look impressive by showing off in front of the dinner ladies and Miss Wilson, who was at the school for some time.

(Milly and Vince both fancied her, and used to argue as to which one was going to take her home after school. She had a choice of legging it, or going home in a faded racing green Ford Popular, or Vince’s old VW camper, complete with mattress laid out in the back, just in case?)
It was widely rumoured that (Miss Wilson, who left GST rather suddenly), following allegations of sexual harassment? but I don’t think anything came of it.
Milly used to play golf for South Cliff, and took part, representing GST, in the school teachers summer golf competition. Apparently Milly had quiet a low handicap.
Eddie Gregory used to nick his golf balls and sell them back to him, he had a good little scam going for a while.
Vince said he used to be an expert yachtsman, but he was a bull shitting bastard as you all know, and no evidence was ever found to support his claim for sailing round the world single handed during the summer holidays.

Hope you enjoyed my trip recalling some of GST sporting days.

Regards to you all