Though I question it, and existentialism, when I'm soaked to the skin barely 10 minutes into selling, envying my mates nice and warm (and thirsty!) in the pub, I do realise that editing a United fanzine is an honour.
As I race towards my mid life crisis; sadly unable to 'lose it' by buying something as daft as a Porsche (I reckon I could muster the price of a toy one), it's scary to think that as I approach 40, for 23 years and 5 months of them I have been obsessing over a tiny universe off Beetlejuice called Red News. It's cost me more than I could ever dare list, but has given me such joy; in friendships won and earnt, sights seen, goals celebrated, triumphs toasted. I would have done all these things without RN of course; I've been fortunate enough to be going since I was but a nipper with hair (that hair now sadly deceased), but certainly I wouldn't have missed the buzz that producing a fanzine during these soap operatic yet glorious times has provided.
As the years fly, and yet the ability for people to still think that shouting 'Big Issue' at you is either funny, or the first time you've ever heard it (that'll be ‘non’ to both then), I've learnt that I have become so sad eyeing weather reports for selling days that I've become almost anal in my talk; like a sea faring man contemplating his next deep fish. The rule of thumb seems to be if they say it'll be warm and sunny; get the waterproofs out.
I remember one night match - I've forgotten the opposition much as a Vietnam vet would blur out the horror - where it was so cold hunting for change it was like being on the coldest peak of Denali in Alaska. If I thought Rapid Vienna in '96 was freezing, this was something else. I'd say my knackers were numb cold, but as I couldn't feel anything, not even Katie Holmes could have roused me for a medical check and cough. After the game I saw another seller - all we could do after ignoring our own selfish needs for warmth was be warmed by the team, and we drew 0-0 in a dour game normally associated with that lot across town - and we just hugged. To strangers this would have seemed odd. We just felt that we'd shared something sinister, together. I wonder if Australian fanzine sellers ever got bored of the warmth?
Hugs are something I like to do. Within reason, of course. For one of the main buzzes, still, of doing the mag is the opportunity to interview past and present players. We've done over 70 now; proper legends, too many to mention all but the two Kings, Denis and Eric, Norman, Robbo, Fergie (twice), Paddy (3 times), Skip to my Lou, Nev (twice) Giggs, Scholes and many others of such note. Only two players have ever said no. Keano and Berbatov.
It takes time to build up trust but where when we first started a player we approached may want to check us out by speaking to someone we'd done before, now most know we are not journalists here, just fans doing a mag for fellow Reds and that reputation and our history speaks for itself. So if they say something they regret, or could be twisted against them in the papers (who usually nab our exclusive quotes and don't even credit), they are open to get back in touch and we'll take it out. Most are comfortable with what they say because they feel comfortable to start with. One real legend said something that would have caused major ructions, but he needn't have asked us not to use what he'd said, we'd taken it out that very night. We are not into stitching our own; we'll leave that to the tabloids.
So being fans of course we don't follow the journalistic practises, whatever they may be (urgh). When I met Steve Bruce in 1994 as he did a 'press' day for his new book after our Double win, seeing us lift that majestic duo just the week before was too much, I hugged him, and thanked him. And then sat down. Balls to convention when you've finally started winning things. Teddy Sheringham around the time of Monaco when we got knocked out by them hadn’t had the best of starts to his United career, and was getting a bit of stick from the press for his England displays. I wonder if it was revenge because he sat each journo waiting (again to plug a book) right next to the speakers of this club he’d hired out; meaning their tape recorders were all but redundant. We’d given Teddy stick, but he appreciated where we were coming from and moved us to the quiet area upstairs where our tape got the juciest quotes of the day.
Eric was always a hero. Slightly in a stalking way of course, though no injunction served, I did eye a friendship with his Dad and chase him around Wembley at the '96 Final proclaiming that his seed had given us God, but I'm sure he liked it (his eyes said scared, his body warm!). But we chatted to Eric too via getting to know Joel; and at one of his beach football tournaments when RN founder Teresa nabbed both his shorts and underpants (which I wore at my wedding, no joke) I finally had the chance for the photo I'm looking at right now; me and Eric. In perfect harmony. Someone get the guitar, Gareth,
Some media girl, so posh sounding that she had surely seen her plums rise 4 feet north into her mouth, suddenly leapt into focus just as I said to Eric that: 'no, really you changed our lives back in 1993, nothing was or will be ever the same because of you'. No more Mr Nice Guy I'm afraid as she got into our shot. 'Eff off and do one' as I glared at her like the man himself confronted by Neil Ruddock shifting his collar. The great man gave a nod that showed he understood, she departed thus preventing any international incident, and I had his pants, my photo, and memories to carry a lifetime. Did I watch Looking for Eric again last weekend? I'd probably watch Eric going to the toilette. Too much info?
But it is the former players who I really enjoy talking to these days. Don't get me wrong, Nemanja Vidic was a joy to interview last season, probably one of the best, giving up more than his time and being open and honest as he disputed media talk about his wife being unhappy, and saying, as proved despite many press writing it off, that he wanted to stay if given the right deal.
But the problem with an ever prying press is that the players are too reserved at times, or too little now remains unsaid because they fear it being blown out of all proportion; when a great openness can be found with those who have done their time and don't have to worry about the repercussions.
As I dreamt on my school playground of being Gordon McQueen or Frank Stapleton (depending on where I was shoved in the team, as various managers treated me like Eric the early years, failing to acknowledge my true position in the side!), my visions always turned to what it would feel like running out of the tunnel and seeing the Stretford End in all its glory.
And these players we chat to have done just that. Even one game played at United is a story in itself. I had a relative who was so unsympathetic towards Garry Birtles that he thought he - despite only playing pub football standard on a Sunday - could do better and wanted to write to Big Fat Ron to tell him this, demanding a place in the United side. It was Tony Smith in his excellent articles for Red News who first made me realise that Birtles, a European Cup winner after all, had been a more than decent player who just found himself at United at the wrong time. Many are those who have not realised their potential at Old Trafford, and the fall-out can be brutal, especially those with a large fee on their backs. Talk of a different time is but a ‘what if’, but nobody does not want to succeed at United.
Birtles' autobiography is a fascinating one. It's open and honest, which you can't always rely on these days (if you want proof, go back even to Kanchelskis' one published during his time at United which detailed his bread making skills!), but also gives another perspective to his United time; we were playing a system that didn't suit him, especially that first year alongside high balls to Joe Jordan, he had a long term injury which he played on with, and a daily commute (which he admits was wrong) back to Nottingham. He doesn't deny the jokes at his expense, but just provides some interesting background to a career that got slightly derailed in Manchester. When the crowd call out their catcalls, not every player is the excuse of a player that some see him as. Darren Fletcher's improvements, when given time that many didn't want to see him get, suggests patience sometimes pays off. And finally I got the answer I'd been waiting for - just why was it two 'r's' in Garry?!
And this week I spoke to a former player now living in South Africa. What a tale. Coaching in South Africa, a former room-mate, buddy and team-mate to the Busby Babes. He may not have played as many games as he may have liked, as Tommy Taylor came in to the side, possibly at his expense, but a local lad, he loved every minute of it and lived the dream. Not just his dream of playing for the side he had supported all his life, but his Dad’s too. A local lad made good. This interview will feature in a future Red News, but what a story Eddie Lewis has - and at 75 he's still coaching, helping out with Moroka Swallows of which he says there are several players coming through who could become very well known. Not only that, but he was a delight to speak to. Sadly I missed out on the euro millions, preventing this being face to face, but it need not matter, the evening flew by chatting.
Lewis, like Birtles has published his own book. These former players have fascinating stories to tell. They may not be the here and now but they are tales of the United some of us grew up with, or heard tales of, and still do. What was it like to share a house with a Babe? What was Jimmy Murphy really like? Why in the case of Birtles, does no player ever have a bad word to say about Dave Sexton when his relationship with the fans wasn’t great (and many of them put that down to his lack of communication skills and relationship with the press).
How many more stories are still out there, lost in the midsts of time? How many other players who have worn the United shirt have not told their story, or have been forgotten about? Older Reds still attending Old Trafford walk by us every match; how many have their own tales, of travelling around seeing the Reds? How many just get ignored. Be they 80, 40 or 20, every game we attend is a tale to tell, and usually more than that if it’s a euro away! I hope they get the chance to be heard, for a Red still going at 90 would have seen Rowley play to name just one. What stories lie buried?
We should pay more attention. The here and now is always the most important of course, but our history is there to be learnt and educate. It is sad whilst our squad of players' are paid £130m a year that they are now banned, on the whole, from signing autographs in public for fear they will end up on ebay. Better to take that risk then deny the next set of kids hero worshipping as we all did. Who will they look up to like we did? Rio asked this question, the decline of the fan/player relationship, via twitter. He once admitted to going into normal boozers after a game and not getting mither. Many do though, but equally fans can’t take all the blame, the gap has developed because of failings on both sides, and the game is worse off for it.
But if we can't get close and personal with those we cheer on this season, let us never forget that there are scores of former players who have their tales to tell, who may even be walking down the same roads as you or I, and this fanzine for one will track as many as we can down, so we can to publish their stories.
You can read Garry Birtles' interview in RN171.
You can read the Eddie Lewis interview in a future Red News.
You can bag the new RN172 out on Saturday 16th October at
You can order either of their books through the links below.
You can wear Eric's underpants... er, no you can't!
* Apologise for the cheesiness of the title, but I like cheese, so there.
Barney. Friday 15th October 2010
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As I race towards my mid life crisis; sadly unable to 'lose it' by buying something as daft as a Porsche (I reckon I could muster the price of a toy one), it's scary to think that as I approach 40, for 23 years and 5 months of them I have been obsessing over a tiny universe off Beetlejuice called Red News. It's cost me more than I could ever dare list, but has given me such joy; in friendships won and earnt, sights seen, goals celebrated, triumphs toasted. I would have done all these things without RN of course; I've been fortunate enough to be going since I was but a nipper with hair (that hair now sadly deceased), but certainly I wouldn't have missed the buzz that producing a fanzine during these soap operatic yet glorious times has provided.
As the years fly, and yet the ability for people to still think that shouting 'Big Issue' at you is either funny, or the first time you've ever heard it (that'll be ‘non’ to both then), I've learnt that I have become so sad eyeing weather reports for selling days that I've become almost anal in my talk; like a sea faring man contemplating his next deep fish. The rule of thumb seems to be if they say it'll be warm and sunny; get the waterproofs out.
I remember one night match - I've forgotten the opposition much as a Vietnam vet would blur out the horror - where it was so cold hunting for change it was like being on the coldest peak of Denali in Alaska. If I thought Rapid Vienna in '96 was freezing, this was something else. I'd say my knackers were numb cold, but as I couldn't feel anything, not even Katie Holmes could have roused me for a medical check and cough. After the game I saw another seller - all we could do after ignoring our own selfish needs for warmth was be warmed by the team, and we drew 0-0 in a dour game normally associated with that lot across town - and we just hugged. To strangers this would have seemed odd. We just felt that we'd shared something sinister, together. I wonder if Australian fanzine sellers ever got bored of the warmth?
Hugs are something I like to do. Within reason, of course. For one of the main buzzes, still, of doing the mag is the opportunity to interview past and present players. We've done over 70 now; proper legends, too many to mention all but the two Kings, Denis and Eric, Norman, Robbo, Fergie (twice), Paddy (3 times), Skip to my Lou, Nev (twice) Giggs, Scholes and many others of such note. Only two players have ever said no. Keano and Berbatov.
It takes time to build up trust but where when we first started a player we approached may want to check us out by speaking to someone we'd done before, now most know we are not journalists here, just fans doing a mag for fellow Reds and that reputation and our history speaks for itself. So if they say something they regret, or could be twisted against them in the papers (who usually nab our exclusive quotes and don't even credit), they are open to get back in touch and we'll take it out. Most are comfortable with what they say because they feel comfortable to start with. One real legend said something that would have caused major ructions, but he needn't have asked us not to use what he'd said, we'd taken it out that very night. We are not into stitching our own; we'll leave that to the tabloids.
So being fans of course we don't follow the journalistic practises, whatever they may be (urgh). When I met Steve Bruce in 1994 as he did a 'press' day for his new book after our Double win, seeing us lift that majestic duo just the week before was too much, I hugged him, and thanked him. And then sat down. Balls to convention when you've finally started winning things. Teddy Sheringham around the time of Monaco when we got knocked out by them hadn’t had the best of starts to his United career, and was getting a bit of stick from the press for his England displays. I wonder if it was revenge because he sat each journo waiting (again to plug a book) right next to the speakers of this club he’d hired out; meaning their tape recorders were all but redundant. We’d given Teddy stick, but he appreciated where we were coming from and moved us to the quiet area upstairs where our tape got the juciest quotes of the day.
Eric was always a hero. Slightly in a stalking way of course, though no injunction served, I did eye a friendship with his Dad and chase him around Wembley at the '96 Final proclaiming that his seed had given us God, but I'm sure he liked it (his eyes said scared, his body warm!). But we chatted to Eric too via getting to know Joel; and at one of his beach football tournaments when RN founder Teresa nabbed both his shorts and underpants (which I wore at my wedding, no joke) I finally had the chance for the photo I'm looking at right now; me and Eric. In perfect harmony. Someone get the guitar, Gareth,
Some media girl, so posh sounding that she had surely seen her plums rise 4 feet north into her mouth, suddenly leapt into focus just as I said to Eric that: 'no, really you changed our lives back in 1993, nothing was or will be ever the same because of you'. No more Mr Nice Guy I'm afraid as she got into our shot. 'Eff off and do one' as I glared at her like the man himself confronted by Neil Ruddock shifting his collar. The great man gave a nod that showed he understood, she departed thus preventing any international incident, and I had his pants, my photo, and memories to carry a lifetime. Did I watch Looking for Eric again last weekend? I'd probably watch Eric going to the toilette. Too much info?
But it is the former players who I really enjoy talking to these days. Don't get me wrong, Nemanja Vidic was a joy to interview last season, probably one of the best, giving up more than his time and being open and honest as he disputed media talk about his wife being unhappy, and saying, as proved despite many press writing it off, that he wanted to stay if given the right deal.
But the problem with an ever prying press is that the players are too reserved at times, or too little now remains unsaid because they fear it being blown out of all proportion; when a great openness can be found with those who have done their time and don't have to worry about the repercussions.
As I dreamt on my school playground of being Gordon McQueen or Frank Stapleton (depending on where I was shoved in the team, as various managers treated me like Eric the early years, failing to acknowledge my true position in the side!), my visions always turned to what it would feel like running out of the tunnel and seeing the Stretford End in all its glory.
And these players we chat to have done just that. Even one game played at United is a story in itself. I had a relative who was so unsympathetic towards Garry Birtles that he thought he - despite only playing pub football standard on a Sunday - could do better and wanted to write to Big Fat Ron to tell him this, demanding a place in the United side. It was Tony Smith in his excellent articles for Red News who first made me realise that Birtles, a European Cup winner after all, had been a more than decent player who just found himself at United at the wrong time. Many are those who have not realised their potential at Old Trafford, and the fall-out can be brutal, especially those with a large fee on their backs. Talk of a different time is but a ‘what if’, but nobody does not want to succeed at United.
Birtles' autobiography is a fascinating one. It's open and honest, which you can't always rely on these days (if you want proof, go back even to Kanchelskis' one published during his time at United which detailed his bread making skills!), but also gives another perspective to his United time; we were playing a system that didn't suit him, especially that first year alongside high balls to Joe Jordan, he had a long term injury which he played on with, and a daily commute (which he admits was wrong) back to Nottingham. He doesn't deny the jokes at his expense, but just provides some interesting background to a career that got slightly derailed in Manchester. When the crowd call out their catcalls, not every player is the excuse of a player that some see him as. Darren Fletcher's improvements, when given time that many didn't want to see him get, suggests patience sometimes pays off. And finally I got the answer I'd been waiting for - just why was it two 'r's' in Garry?!
And this week I spoke to a former player now living in South Africa. What a tale. Coaching in South Africa, a former room-mate, buddy and team-mate to the Busby Babes. He may not have played as many games as he may have liked, as Tommy Taylor came in to the side, possibly at his expense, but a local lad, he loved every minute of it and lived the dream. Not just his dream of playing for the side he had supported all his life, but his Dad’s too. A local lad made good. This interview will feature in a future Red News, but what a story Eddie Lewis has - and at 75 he's still coaching, helping out with Moroka Swallows of which he says there are several players coming through who could become very well known. Not only that, but he was a delight to speak to. Sadly I missed out on the euro millions, preventing this being face to face, but it need not matter, the evening flew by chatting.
Lewis, like Birtles has published his own book. These former players have fascinating stories to tell. They may not be the here and now but they are tales of the United some of us grew up with, or heard tales of, and still do. What was it like to share a house with a Babe? What was Jimmy Murphy really like? Why in the case of Birtles, does no player ever have a bad word to say about Dave Sexton when his relationship with the fans wasn’t great (and many of them put that down to his lack of communication skills and relationship with the press).
How many more stories are still out there, lost in the midsts of time? How many other players who have worn the United shirt have not told their story, or have been forgotten about? Older Reds still attending Old Trafford walk by us every match; how many have their own tales, of travelling around seeing the Reds? How many just get ignored. Be they 80, 40 or 20, every game we attend is a tale to tell, and usually more than that if it’s a euro away! I hope they get the chance to be heard, for a Red still going at 90 would have seen Rowley play to name just one. What stories lie buried?
We should pay more attention. The here and now is always the most important of course, but our history is there to be learnt and educate. It is sad whilst our squad of players' are paid £130m a year that they are now banned, on the whole, from signing autographs in public for fear they will end up on ebay. Better to take that risk then deny the next set of kids hero worshipping as we all did. Who will they look up to like we did? Rio asked this question, the decline of the fan/player relationship, via twitter. He once admitted to going into normal boozers after a game and not getting mither. Many do though, but equally fans can’t take all the blame, the gap has developed because of failings on both sides, and the game is worse off for it.
But if we can't get close and personal with those we cheer on this season, let us never forget that there are scores of former players who have their tales to tell, who may even be walking down the same roads as you or I, and this fanzine for one will track as many as we can down, so we can to publish their stories.
You can read Garry Birtles' interview in RN171.
You can read the Eddie Lewis interview in a future Red News.
You can bag the new RN172 out on Saturday 16th October at
You can order either of their books through the links below.
You can wear Eric's underpants... er, no you can't!
* Apologise for the cheesiness of the title, but I like cheese, so there.
Barney. Friday 15th October 2010
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