But my efforts to get into the school cricket team were dismantled by a games master who still had his mind set only on the oval ball game. I did not surrender my wicket easily and felt I may have got into the team for my batting alone. But having been shown how to spin the ball I had visions of emulating Johnnie Wardle of Yorkshire, the only player in county cricket chosen on account of his ability to bowl the ‘chinaman’.

As a left-handed bowler I had been taught this delivery by a right-handed spin bowler. If that technicality is lost on you any good coach should be able to explain. News of my spins had reached the games master who, unbeknown to me, had instructed the captain that I was to be given a few overs so that he could have a look. Sad to say in those four overs I was only moderately successful. The batsmen were unable to score more than a few runs off me but neither did I dismiss any of them.

Thus, due to a total lack of encouragement by the games master or any suggestion of coaching I gave up any thoughts I had of playing cricket. Not that I was too keen on playing for the school because it would have meant having to give up Saturday mornings. So I spent far more of my summer in the new West Wing at Edgbaston than was advisable for anyone supposedly studying for GCEs.

Eric Houghton had played cricket for Lincolnshire so it might be thought Villa would have played a few games that summer under his watchful eye but any results other than an aborted game versus the G.E.C. Witton have been lost in the vaults.

So time to turn to the football season. A season whose fate is more than adequately described in the title of this piece. Arriving home from a match on Saturday evening my mother would invariably ask, in all innocence, “How did they get on?” Even though she ought to have been able to tell from whether the cat had already gone into hiding. Such perception would be greeted by W D L as appropriate. But by the end of this article her question had changed to “How many did they lose by?” Perceptive, my mother. On the very rare occasions we won she would sarcastically ask, “Who were they playing, the blind school?”. You get the picture, I will continue.

After the unbeaten run at the end of last season there was no reason to suppose this would not continue, apart from one major factor. Tommy Thompson (76 for 165) had been listening to Blanchflower and decided to throw his lot in with Preston North End where he might benefit more by having Tom Finney alongside. We had no obvious replacement.

Nevertheless this did not manifest itself in the opening game at Maine Road. Especially when after only four minutes Dixon put the sphere beyond Trautmann. A trick he repeated fifteen minutes later to the consternation of some 38,000. Cunliffe caused it to be only 2-1 by teatime. With clearing up the crocks still going on City were awarded a hotly-disputed penalty. Revie scored. A similar incident against Dixon went unpunished so we had to be content with a draw.

Consecutive away games seemed a cruel start to the season and it did not help that the second one was at Sunderland, who had ambitions beyond their perceived ability. Staying overnight beforehand did nothing to prepare us for the deluge which was to come. Goals rather than rain. It was only one as 33,701 went in search of refreshment or whatever. Nothing was going right in general and for McParland in particular. Then we were overrun four times. Our only consolation was the best goal of the match – Dixon (62). 2-5.

Cardiff City and Trevor Ford came back to Villa Park for our first home game. Captain, as traditional in such circumstances. Houghton had more faith in his team than the 32,893. He was justified, none more so than when Dixon fastened on to a loose ball after just ten minutes. Cardiff gave us some stick but Ford could not beat us with it and twelve minutes ahead of the rush for buses Dixon scored again.

The unfortunate thing for all concerned was that it was Sunderland again come Monday night. Shackleton turned out this time – he did not play last Wednesday – although the game carried on where it had finished last week much to the chagrin of 28,226. The deficit was only one at half-time, Bingham (17). By full-time it could have been any prime number but only, repeat only, 1-4. No cause for optimism, things were looking bad.

Then out of the blue a hugely surprising acquisition. Quite how or why Dave Hickson should have chosen to leave Everton to join Aston Villa remains a mystery. The team had already been chosen for the game at Huddersfield so he was obliged to watch from the stands alongside Houghton. I hope he was sitting comfortably because if not he may have missed the first goal. This takes longer to write about than it did to score – just thirty seconds, McParland.

But if Hickson thought that he had joined a ‘wonder club’ he would have been quickly disillusioned by what followed. Ninety minutes minus thirty seconds of nothingness. Unless you were a Terriers supporters for whom Glazzard (32) trumped our ace. 1-1. 19,805.

Two days later Hickson made his debut, which created sufficient anticipation to cause 56,935 to attend to see the newly-promoted Blues. Our first competitive encounter since we helped send them down in April 1950. To say Hickson was a disappointment is to favour him with faint praise. Tyrell had to step aside to accommodate him and it is fair to say that by the end of a nil-nil all sympathy was directed towards Joe. Is that it then? Is that our new wonder centre-forward? But surrounded by strangers it is not always easy to impress.

Maybe the same people would come back to see Stanley Matthews again. They did, 51,186 so only the Blues fans were missing. Dixon came back to partner Hickson with Vic Crowe to his left. If this unusual combination was expected to produce goals Houghton had not taken into account the Blackpool rearguard. What provedour only goal was inadvertently provided by Kelly. Perhaps they get blinded with science but something strange seems to happen to Villa at the half-time pep talk. Within two minutes, 1-1 Perry. And Hickson never looks like scoring.

Despite our inability to score or even look like scoring we field the same eleven at Stamford Bridge. The result has more than an air of inevitability about it. After it became evident we were not getting anywhere Crowe and Amos Moss changed places. We still got nowhere but fortunately neither did Chelsea. 0-0. 35,221 disappointed fans.

Four consecutive draws. Maybe things would change in the return fixture at St. Andrews. Maybe Hickson would score! Fortunately for the sake of the 32,642 somebody did. Brown for Blues (22) before setting off, as was his gimmick, to shake hands with the corner flag.

No such histrionics from Southren though his goal might have been considered an o.g. when his shot bounced back off the post, hit the prostrate Merrick then bounced over the line (43). Both sides kept referee Husbands fully attentive. Astall shot them ahead (66) only for Baxter (6 for 106) to score his first since opening day last season, (69). Hostilities continued to the end. Hickson nil.

Surely we could end the run of five consecutive draws by beating Bolton Wanderers. We did but in the worst possible way – by losing. Not so much to Bolton but to Nat Lofthouse, who seemed to enjoy scoring against Villa. Hickson could only kick the ball against their goalkeeper, McParland hit the post and there you have it. Lofthouse (23 & 74) both headers despite the attentions of Con Martin and 28,416 now knew what to expect for the remainder of the season. But they had seen something unusual. Early on Referee Coultas (of whom more several articles hence) strained a ligament and retried for treatment.

The senior linesman took over whilst a Bolton reserve took over as linesman temporarily before, in response to an appeal to the crowd, the flag was handed to a qualified referee from the Birmingham Works Association who happened to be at the game. The Villa News has stopped including the league table to avoid embarrassment.

As if things are not bad enough concerning the first team, on a Saturday morning we get our second outing in the FA Youth Cup. As if losing to the Baggies 1-7 last season was not enough we lose 0-2 to the youths of Walsall. How could the put out a better team than we did? Back in the afternoon for the Villa Reserves 2 Chesterfield Reserves 0. Pace at centre-forward must be wondering what he has to do to get his first team place back.

Watching the score from Highbury go up did nothing to lift the gloom. Neither did Hickson do anything to suggest he had been worth breaking the bank for. 43,834 can vouch for that. 0-1.

Ditto the 37,343 who turned up in West Bromwich to see the contest against our historic rivals. It was a lovely autumn day but there the good news ends. The decisive goal was scored by Nicholls from close to the penalty spot (26). Dixon moved to centre-forward, Hickson to outside-right but that merits nothing more than a mention in this report.

Tottenham are bottom of the league with 5 points so like Hickson in Aston, Blanchflower is not exactly setting north London alight. Villa are one of five teams with five points placed 18th–22nd. Blackpool, nearly relegated last season, are the more than surprise leaders.

Manchester United (3rd) are up next. Only 29,478 because expectations are now low and despondency is rife. Four goals against; Webster, Jackie Blanchflower, Pegg 2 are not altogether surprising. What is surprising is four for Villa. Finally a goal for Hickson, Dixon 2 and Saward, a new signing from Millwall, on his debut. 4-4. Unreal.

Seventy years on and I am still unable to explain why I badgered mother all week to be allowed to go to Everton. We were struggling in the basement and victory was, to say the least, unlikely. She finally succumbed on Saturday morning with only just sufficient time for me to get to New Street.

It would not have been a surprise if Hickson had been shunned on his return to Everton. Instead from the moment he led Villa onto the turf until he shook hands with the referee he was given an unbelievable standing ovation. It was as if even the home crowd, 55,431, was willing him to score. I was experiencing my first proper away match, standing nervously surrounded by so many blue scarves

It was backs to the wall from the start and when Tansey scored (9) I had never before experienced such a noise. Mayhem continued until after half an hour Everton until eventually tired. But Harris made it two and I did not even catch a toffee. Dixon made for a better second half. 1-2. After a fraught bus journey back to Lime Street, when I eventually made it home all my mother would say was “I hope that’s finally cured you.” Fat chance.

The Everton programme contained a cartoon depicting a broken down house – “The Villa – but not like the immaculate Villa of old. What a shack.” Somewhat insulting, but containing an element of truth. It also suggested Hickson should remind Villa supporters of their old dashing centre-forward, Harry Hampton. Fat chance – again.

Newcastle United were not the club they used to think they were, either. But after eleven games without a win it was more in hope than expectation that 25,386 handed over their gate money. But it is always advisable to get to Villa Park early because Dixon, a native of Newcastle, took pleasure in scoring with the Witton Lane clock not having clicked onto the first minute. Ditto for those returning to their seats for the second half because barely three clicks had gone when Crowe made it two.

Then the Geordies resorted to the offside trap but even without McParland (rested!) we were not to be constrained and Lockhart seized on a rebound after a shot by Hickson and I was able to tell my mother we had beaten more than the Blue Coat School.

Burnley next so the winning sequence was bound to end at one – and it did. Lockhart is injured so McParland has to come back even with a cold. McKay (17 & 27) ensured a home banker to the satisfaction of the bulk of the 20,592.

Then my father, who did not drive, somehow obtained tickets to a football match and persuaded one of his workmen to drive us there. So it was that I came to attend the most significant club game ever played in Britain. Ever. Wolverhampton Wanderers 2 Moscow Dynamo 1 under floodlights at the Molineux Football would never be the same again nor would my watching of it.

Luton Town, promoted with Blues, were next for our first league meeting since 1937 in the second division. They had beaten Wolves 5-1 last week so it was no forgone conclusion. It was decidedly a defender’s day and the only thing which prevented it from being a stalemate came when Dixon headed beyond Baynham (70). Hickson nil again. 29,761.

Then England came to Villa Park again ahead of a game at Wembley v Norway. As before, thirty minutes each way but sufficient for Hickson to score his second Villa goal even if it did not count for anything. Finney equalised before Martin could claim to have scored against England, albeit an o.g. So too can McParland. 2-2. Vastly different teams in a second half notable for the absence of Hickson. Is something going on?

Yes! After just twelve uninspiring appearances he departs. But like Blanchflower his choice of destination seems strange. Huddersfield Town, bottom of the league. Tottenham are twenty-first.

Hickson did not even get a confidence boost by going on the annual firm’s outing to Aldershot. A more mixed team than usual. Mike Pinner in goal. Trevor Smith (Birmingham) and Duncan Edwards (Manchester United) are the Army players of note. Myerscough (55) scored the only goal.

Charlton Athletic were vying with Blackpool for the leadership when they were next on our agenda. Four minutes and we were leading by a Lockhart goal (4). You have to get there early at the Valley too, it might have been more but after the changeround things fell apart. Two goals in a minute, Hurst and White visibly destroyed us before Ryan put the knife in. 1-3. 19,830.

Then we welcomed back Blanchflower to Villa Park, although he was not received with the same enthusiasm afforded to Hickson at Everton. Indeed we almost laughed at his choice of employers. 21st to our 18th. Tottenham had won all five times here since they were promoted. Blanchflower had the last laugh when predictably it became six. It was a typical relegation clash. McClellan (69) scored against the run of what play there had been. In the dying minutes Clarke had 23,836 rushing for the buses. Blanchflower was seen grinning.

We might be good for a point at Sheffield United, below us in the table, if we keep the same eleven. But we did not have the same team. We had signed a secret weapon. Jackie Sewell, once the costliest footballer in the world, from the north side of Sheffield. Also Trevor Birch (0 for 23) was called on to make his debut in place of an injured Crowe.

The pitch was slippery in the rain. Pace in particular responded to Sewell’s guile and between them Sewell scored a debut goal to put us a goal up (38). A feat which they later repeated in reverse. Pace (63). A rare away win was on the cards but you do not win four-pointers that easily and spurred on by 21,835 the Blades sharpened up their act. Howett, swiftly followed by Wragg, meant we finished on the back foot. But we at least denied Sheffield two points. A point is a point when defeat would have been disastrous.

Tommy Thompson came back to Villa Park with his new mates Tom Finney and Tommy Docherty. Dixon replaced Pace, McParland, not yet a shoe-in, replaced Southren. It almost goes without saying that you had to be there early because we scored after just two minutes, Baxter. It was another half-hour of midfield give and take before Amos Moss used his height to good effect. Lockhart put us in an unassailable position with a great shot (all shots which go in are great) (52) before Thompson decided to demonstrate what we had missed. A centre to Lewis, then one of his own (79) had us checking the chickens in the hen coop before referee Hunt decided he had seen enough as had the 27,814. 3-2.

Christmas shopping Saturday traditionally led to a shortage of fans at football matches so only 19,215 escaped the drudgery of Lewis’s or Grey’s. Unchanged teams too were a rarity either because of injury, illness or a manager trying to figure out where things went wrong last match. Manchester City were the visitors and it almost goes without saying that there was an early goal. Unfortunately the scorerwas Spurdle on the very first tick of the minute hand.

By twenty-five to three (2.15 k.o.) a cloud of despondency descended over Aston. Dyson. Followed by almost total silence as the players left the field in search of warmth. Dyson cleaned up from a defensive error to put City above us in the table.

Christmas Eve meant a trip to Cardiff City. But instead of Trevor Ford they had a new centre-forward who, with a bit of foresight, could just as easily of being playing for Villa that afternoon. I refer, of course, to Gerald Archibald Hitchens. It is almost with tears in my eyes that I have to record with fifteen minutes remaining and a nil-nil looking the most likely outcome Gerald Archibald Hitchens steered the ball beyond the grasp of Keith Jones. 0-1. 20,384.

The fixture compilers were cruel to both Villa and Portsmouth with two games against each other. Meaning that at least in getting from Cardiff to Birmingham we could get Christmas Day at home. Portsmouth did not even get to enjoy this because they played at Blackpool on the Saturday before arriving at Villa Park on Boxing Day, a Monday. However, perhaps they enjoyed a toy-free day in the city because they were certainly more alive and alert than our lot, unchanged as we were. It took Pompey as long as four minutes to open their account but then most of the 21,404 were probably in position. Rees.

Then Barnard ran through unimpeded and we were two down (22). Crowe to Southren to Dixon (36) guaranteed a less fraught interval than had seemed likely. But it made little difference at the end when Harris (73) beat Jones from a few yards out. 1-3. Even black cats in Aston went into hiding.

How both teams got to Portsmouth for the game next day is not recorded. 31,116 were pleased to see their team safely back home. We could not possibly put out the same failed eleven but resources were restricted. Portsmouth made just one enforced change. Harris gave them the lead (29) and Gordon (43) meant scribes from the Midlands were already preparing their obituary notices for the morning editions. But Dixon (53) and McParland staked a claim for automatic inclusion. Sewell, (79) emphasised his quality as playmaker. An unexpected point but the table still made horrible reading.

19th Tottenham 17 pts 20th Sheffield United 21st Villa 17 pts 22nd Huddersfield 16 pts. And Huddersfield were due up next.

Dave Hickson came with the visitors and played a better game than any he had played for us. Perhaps it was the company he kept. Thrilled by our point on the south coast we kept an unchanged side. Villa Park – early goals! You cannot get much better than two within six minutes. Dixon (3) after a session of inter-passing and Dixon again (6) after a sweeping move. But hold on – the best is yet to come. 64 minutes and it happened. All these years on it still remains the greatest goal ever seen at Villa Park, or indeed any involving the Villa anywhere.

Receiving the ball inside his own penalty area Stan Lynn set off upfield. He reached the halfway line unchallenged and decided he may as well carry on. By this time the crowd started to rise like the beginning of a Mexican wave because they sensed something rare was about to happen. Reaching the opposing penalty area, still with the ball at his feet Lynn might have been tempted trying to hammer the ball home. Instead he avoided a couple more defenders before calmly rounding goalkeeper Wheeler and the ball nestled sweetly in the corner of the net.