Remember the 56

On Saturday the Imps were relegated, and each and every one of us went home desolate, incosolable and saddened. However we did get to go home.

26 years ago today 56 football fans travelled to a Bradford City v Lincoln City game and never made it back. 54 of those were fans of the Bantams whilst 2 were Imps fans, Mr Stacey and Mr West. Whilst the stand that bears their name is a lifelong tribute to them both; we must remember all those who perished that day.

Football is passionate and can be life changing. At times (Saturday for instance) it feels as if you don’t want to go on. Come August we’ll get the chance to change our minds and embrace a season of renowned hope and optimism. Let us not forget those 56 who were not so lucky.

Bill Shankly once commented that football was more impotant than life or death. I’m sorry Bill but that is simply not true. So please take a moment to remember those souls who went out on a Saturday afternoon to watch a game of football, and never made it back to their families.

RIP

Wardrobe Malfunction leaves Poacher Up the Junction

Left it for a game or two on the old Poacher Diary simply due to the massive number of other things I’ve taken on. You may be aware I’ve volunteered to bring back the Imps fanzine The Deranged Ferret which I suspect will take up more of my writing time than I first thought!

Big win on Saturday against Southend and a superb atmosphere in the ground. I’d firstly like to say a massive thanks to Billy Jarish for providing Poacher with a flag and for doing all the banners. Fans like Billy are invaluable to this club, but for me personally any interaction is welcomed. I did have a little incident with the flag last time out. As I waved it around the fabric blew around my head without my knowledge. I gently tugged at it to bring it back to normal and realised that it was acting a bit like Velcro – the thing was stuck. The more I tugged, the more my whole head came loose. There was no doubt that a swift pull on the flag would have taken my furry head off leaving my little ginger head on display. I struggled for about two minutes before finally untangling myself – all this following the 0-0 draw with Accrington. This week had I learned my lesson? Nope, cue more entanglement and more distress for your favourite furball. Alan Long loved it, but then the moustache-i-ode one loves any distress Poacher encounters. Well that’s what your wife is meant to do isn’t it?

However another wardrobe dysfunction befell me this week. The crotch of the legs has become somewhat eroded over the last year, and has left the lower half of the suit looking like a furry pair of crotch less fetish trousers. All this is fine of course as long as the appropriate undergarments are worn. On Saturday I omitted such an appropriate undergarment, and instead opted for an extremely loose fitting pair of novelty boxers. This had two unfortunately outcomes. The first was the fact my changing area was being used by the wonderful nurses from Marie Curie Cancer Care. I have no doubt that although my crown jewels were on display; it wasn’t welcomed by the ladies! Secondly I noticed that as I made my way around the SB turf that my baby maker did seem to be getting a draft: no good. You may have noticed me avoid both lunges and leaps on Saturday just in case. One glimpse of that and fans would be thinking Chris Sutton was back!

Ought to throw a mention Double M’s way as well. The girls in the Stacey West burger bar have been superb over the last couple of weeks putting up with numerous attacks on their stand. It’s all in excellent humour of course, but one of the girls has asked if she could do Mrs Poacher one week. The incredible ‘disappearing suit’ has reappeared and now been taken back to Newtoft Towers in order for me to put it back together. However should I let this young lady have a pop at Mrs P? She is only about 17 which will probably leave me too open to mindless slander.

The Deranged Ferret is coming on nicely with a few contributions in ahead of my March 25th deadline. I envisage the first issue being around the 50 pages mark, just to test the water. Anyone who wants to contribute please feel free to do so. I’ve had some great stuff so far, a very funny sketch about Tilly and Brush, some concerns about the ground smoking ban and memories of the play offs. I’d love some memories of the 70’s and 80’s though, and an assessment of the current squad through the eyes of an everyday fan.

So after some indecent exposure fears and a potential beheading I’ve made it through two more Imps games. I’ve had a quick tot up of the games I’ve performed as Poacher at just to satisfy my lust for all things City. I’ve actually racked up 370 appearances now as Poacher spanning 13 and a half years. I have to say I’m extremely proud of that record! My highlight at the Bank would have to be the 7-1 thrashing of Rochdale or the 5-0 thrashing of Grimsby. However a 3-2 Christmas time win over Scunny back in 2001 was particularly sweet as well.

Short and sweet but it isn’t entirely possible to say everything I’d like to say. Recently I’ve found myself embroiled in the murky world of football politics and I have a feeling that is set to continue. Maybe it is time for me to stop sitting on the fence and actually come out in support of one body or another.

 (I’ve happily retracted a previous statement from here after it was pointed out to me that 95% of people involved in the PLC bid bear no malice towards the club or board. I am completely happy to take my previous sweeping statement out as a matter of respect to individuals concerned)

It’s clear the Trust take a lot of criticism that I will neither condone nor defend. However as a keen fan who has very little else in his life but the club (cue a round of ‘awww’ bless him and then a little snigger) perhaps I should plough my spare time into the political goings on at the club? Just like H’Angus the Monkey, Mayor I might just become Poacher The Imp, Chairman. Of course Stuart Drummond had an easier time keeping his personal and professional personas apart, but sadly certain websites seem unable to extend me the same courtesy.

Poachers Xmas Party. In February.

Should have put this up on Thursday 24th, but I’ve had one of those weekends that just flew by. So here it is now!

Just a quick blog tonight to chat briefly about Poacher Club Christmas party. That occurred tonight after the original was cancelled due to weather back in December. Poachers Club is an initiative to try and get families into the Bank. Kids join for something like £20 a season, and then get a party and other perks. The big perk though is members of Poachers Club get the following deal every game: One Adult for £7 and a Child for £1. That’s a cracking deal for struggling parents who wanna bring kids along.

Anyway I went straight there after work to meet Jodie. She runs Poachers Club and works hard on these nights doing pretty much everything! I had a disaster when I arrived: a bottle of water had burst in Poachers bag and pre soaked my suit for me. It was nice knowing I’d start cold and wet and progressively move to extremely hot and still wet. My Chesterfield programme was soaked as well as was my towel.

 The event was being covered by Siren FM as well who got me to say a few words. The students put a lot of work into bringing the hour long show which is another good thing for the club. I was asked about the Imps community initiative and why I enjoyed the event. On that occasion I felt that I could answer as both Poacher and as me (If I were texting there I’d put a smiley face, but I’m not).

The actual event itself was as expected. There was a mix of kids who wanted a photo but were too shy, kids who enjoyed battering me with various objects and kids who cried every time I walked past. That tends to be the main three categories of children, and the one I enjoy entertaining least are the ones who attack me! Tonight I was hit with various things ranging from a fairly harmless balloon to an extremely painful Guitar Hero Guitar. That particular instrument is extremely uncomfortable when it is forced up in between your legs. I’m not sure what hurts more: the pain or the indignity of having a child run off laughing his little socks off.

The point is that the kids love it, and they are the fans of tomorrow are they not? Therefore making them feel part of the club now could sow the seeds for later life. That’s a job I consider very important!

I enjoy these events though as I get changed in the sumptuous surroundings of the sponsors bar. The beer doesn’t flow, but I did get about fifteen chicken nuggets and two plates of chips. All’s well that ends well eh? As I left some of the first team lads turned up as well. I spotted Kanyucka, Spencer, O’Keefe, Hughton and I believe Julian Kelly. Players have been before but I don’t recall if they went under Sutton. However to see a mix of loanees, new players, fringe players and first teamers mixing so well was a positive sign for team spirit. It’s been reflected on the field and it’s a good thing for the club that it resonates through the community projects. I believe Scott Spencer had a massive bright red NY hat on, which is also good for me as I have around a thousand ready to sell in my loft. Perhaps I’ll take a small selection to the next home game.

Also just to finish a few posters on the Lincoln City messageboard Vitals have commented about me having an opinion outside the fur (well one poster). I do clearly state that this is MY blog about my experiences as a mascot. I won’t be bringing the club into disrepute nor will I be disclosing secrets. The internet is great and terrible in equal measure isn’t it? It’s great because decent Imps fans can get to chat to each other, compare thoughts and the like. Sadly it does give a minority a chance to fly their own flags and sit behind the safety of a keyboard firing off their bile. I’ll state now for anyone who is interested: I am happy to debate my Imps opinion with anyone at all over a pint of Fosters in the Trust Suite. As Gary Hutchinson, Imps fan I will never hide behind a pointless name like Emmuska Orczy, nor will I be attempting to further my own ‘brand’ through my opinions. To end here are some opinions of mine: • Despite his goals Josh O’Keefe is not League Two standard • Next season we will be more top ten than bottom ten • The Imps should never leave Sincil Bank • Marmite is vile, a bit like Engine Oil Jelly. • Just because Grimsby is called Great Grimsby, it isn’t therefore great. • Ditto anyone who’s name means something else: A name doesn’t define the man. If it did I’d be out Poacher rabbits then bringing them home to keep in a Hutch. I don’t do that. • Hobb Nob biscuits are my favourite • With a nice brew, three sugars and plenty of milk. • This list has gone on too long. To Oxford tomorrow night!

Imps v Morecambe and Chesterfield

Time for a quick update from the favourite bundle of fur for 99.9% of Imps fans. I promised a diary and decided to keep it packed full of interesting anecdotes. In order to do this I have to throw a few games together. It’s not all rock and roll under the foam!

Starting with our win over Morecambe, a result that really convinced me we are going to be clear of relegation. The boys put a great shift in and looked every inch a competitive League Two side. Ashley Grimes superb effort will stick very firmly in my mind, an example of exquisite skill coupled with a predators finish. I understand people are asking who the better player is: Somma or Grimes. My opinion is that Davide Somma is a better all round player, strong with a keen eye for goal. However Grimes is a different type of player, slippery and full of skill with a keen eye for goal. So in fact the one common denominator is this: they score goals. If pushed as to which were more influential, I’d say that both have been almost solely responsible for surviving relegation ( I hope in the case of this season) and so both have been of equal importance. If I were pushed as to who I’d rather have permanently in the Imps side I’d say Somma purely because he is more my ‘type’ of centre forward. However it’s a bit like being asked to chose between a thousand pounds in twenties or a thousand pounds in fifties.
Anyway as Poacher I was approached by the BBC’s late kick off programme to appear in a feature at the cathedral. I was over the moon to be asked and arranged to be there by half ten. Sadly at eleven I was still at work in an area with terrible mobile signal. The result? By one o’clock I’d missed filming, and found myself sat behind the BBC crew in the Trust Suite. I offered my apologies but I don’t think they were overly impressed. It’s a shame as it would be good coverage for the club, but as they were at the club anyway at least we didn’t miss out on exposure. Sadly of course I missed out on a chance to get my mug on TV, but I tend not to bother about recognition for myself.
The afternoon was good fun from a Poacher point of view. The Morecambe support were few and far between but they gave me a good reception. I’ve always rated the fans and officials from Morecambe, I find them an incredibly friendly and community spirited club. Fair play they clapped me on my rounds and I genuinely appreciate that. A bit of banter is good, but good humoured banter is better.
Sadly the same can’t be said of our adversaries of a week later from Chesterfield. With bigger numbers comes lesser approachability (is that a word? My spell check hasn’t picked it up but it seems ridiculous) and the Chesterfield fans were far from friendly. I lap it up of course; a few comedy bum pats and fingers-to-the-mouth shush signals. However having the bigger crowd does bring more noise and even more atmosphere. I have to say I felt that against the Spireites the noise levels were as high as any other game this season: good signs.
I get in amongst the crowd a bit more now as the atmosphere in and around the ground has changed. We may be lower / mid table but there are smiles on faces and friendly words to be had. It makes my job loads better. I’ve got into a routine of getting over in front of The Stacey West now, and with Billy’s flags recently added the whole ambience has changed. I get a right buzz wandering towards that stand, seeing the flashes of colour and hearing the chorus of voices. You can talk about the Kop or the Stretford End but we have our own area of fanatical support. I know I’m biased; I’ve been Stacey West / Railway End for twenty four and a half years now. It’s great to watch the rebirth develop week in week out.
Of course that great atmosphere took a dent with a 2-0 reverse against Chesterfield but the SW kept in good voice anyway. It was always going to be a tough game and while we can’t get apathetic over a defeat, it didn’t feel as much of a hammer blow as it could have.
The Football League show came along to the Chesterfield game and despite a quick chat with that slightly camp bald fella I didn’t feature. There were no cameras around the pitch to play up to (that I noticed) so it didn’t really affect me. The only difference for me is the fact my changing room was filled up with electric equipment and monitors. Luckily for you (and me) the cameras weren’t rolling when the suit came away from my slender frame.
So that was the week that was. On a personal note a poster on Lincoln Vitals mentioned that he may have seen me getting a little confused in the communal hand washing area of the Engine Shed recently. In my defence it is very misleading having urinal shaped sinks in an area marked ‘toilet’, but I am 100% sure that I did nothing to bring shame on my family. However being recognised in nightspot toilets is not a good thing: how long before a grainy mobile phone recording of me attempt to wash my hands in a urinal emerge? Again.
Couple of weeks off now from match day duty, although on Thursday I do have the kids Christmas party. Jodie Tipper works really hard for the club and it’s a pleasure to be able to give some time to make a young kids day. I love the Poacher parties as the kids get so excited, seeing smiles on their faces makes the job worthwhile.

Ringers, Stingers and Gingers



This week I have decided to try and help out the guys running the 12^th man scheme. I feel as an individual I have a lot to offer, and my introduction there can be read at http://the12thmanlcfc.blogspot.com/2011/01/gary-hutchinson-joins-12th-man.html

I must confess it is extremely touching to be mentioned by name when joining up for something! I have been involved in fans groups before, but only ever with either financial support or taking Poacher along to fund raising events.

My first taste of this really came at the end of the 2001/0 season. I think we all know what situation we were in, and as Poacher I was asked to attend quite a few different events. I recall Shane Clarke and James Brown putting a lot of effort into saving the club, and the three of us (plus another face or two) were often found outside Supermarkets in Lincoln raising money. In fact I was asked to leave the ASDA store towards the end of the day after accepting a £10 donation in exchange for a chance to ‘push the teddy around the shop’. I was the teddy and we didn’t get very far around the shop before two security guards took up their option of removing me from the store in exchange for not kicking my head in. Good deal.

The big money raising march through the city was a real highlight that season as well. It was prior to the home game against Rochdale on the last Saturday of the season. In truth the fans felt that this could actually be the last time we watched the Imps play. 500 fans and MP Gillian Merron marched through the town with Poacher leading the charge. It was a massively emotional day for every fan, and one which will forever live in my memory.

About halfway round we came up Newland and chucked a right towards Varsity. There were people everywhere and I could see very little. Someone handed me a bucket full of change and I grabbed it and danced off towards Varsity, intending to get some much needed cash for The Imps. You could almost say I was running in the street on a Saturday afternoon holding a bucket full of money, effectively blindfolded. What could go wrong?

Theft?

Getting Lost?

Being Assaulted?

None of the above. What went wrong was that I ran straight into a bench at knee height, full speed. I pivoted over the top and cracked my face on the arm the other side, and around £26 in coppers littered the streets of Lincoln. As the money fell you could sense smack heads ears pricking up everywhere within a mile radius. I sprawled out in absolutely agony with deep gashes to either shin. Not nice.

However like anything a mascot does, people thought it was for comic effect and they hauled me to my feet to walk the remaining mile back to the ground. I could feel blood running into my socks and winced every time I put my foot down on the ground. The walk back to the bank took ages and when I got back I couldn’t wait to get undressed and nurse my wounds: no such luck. I was hauled out onto the pitch for a victory lap. Don’t get me wrong the money we raised was excellent, but it’s hard to feel like a winner when you are paddling in your own blood. When I finally got undressed I could almost wring my sock out.

Raising money is one of the key jobs as a mascot, inevitably every event you do is focused on raising cash. Nobody has a mascot event without attaching a charity to it. One of my favourites to support is the yearly push by Bradford City to help the Burns Unit there. This is a charity that is obviously close to the hearts of Bantams fans, but also one City fans will support after the tragic events of May 1985.

A few years ago they sold ‘Walking in a ginger wonderland’ T shirts which I found quite amusing. I am going to do a blog on my friendship with The City Gent at some point in the future so for now I shall leave that there.

However the fundraising doesn’t always go well. The Mascot Grand National at Huntingdon is meant to be an affair that raises money for good causes and everyone has a laugh. Well the 2010 race turned into much more than that.

For best part of a decade and a half Huntingdon have staged the Mascot Grand National. Other courses have attempted and failed to emulate the media success of their event. In the early years the Sun newspaper were there, page three’s finest were there and Poacher the Imp was there. The event went from strength to strength.

However things started to go a little sour. An extra from Coronation Street managed to get himself in the Oldham Athletic suit and start winning every year. Suddenly winning was the focus and some mascots started turning up in running shoes and very flimsy costumes.

Genuine mascots such as me and Captain Blade from Sheff Utd weren’t so keen on this, and a 2005 spat saw the two (Chaddy and Bladie) come to blows at the end of the race. Integrity intact ‘Bladey’ as he is known retained his mascot status. The Corry extra resigned and Oldham appointed a much more suitable man to be Chaddy. In fact the new Chaddy fully embraced the world of mascotting and slotted in like a 6ft centre half into our defence.

However The Sun continued their involvement, entering athletes in fancy dress masks and running shoes. Mascots started turning up from Sunday league sides such as ‘Finedon Volta’, running in no more than a tracksuit and balaclava.

The racecourse seemed to actively encourage these ringers, and actively discourage good honest mascots. Indeed last year Captain Blade was given two minders to keep him in check, and for Bladey this was the final straw.

Many mascots have different reasons for boycotting the race. Bladey is a long standing mascot who has the respect of his mascotting colleagues such as Roary The Tiger from Hull, and our own mascot of 13 years Poacher The Imp. However as well as support for Bladey there is also the fear that football mascots might have been exploited just one too many times.

Back in the day, around the turn of the Millennium football mascots were everywhere. I appeared in the early Huntingdon Grand Nationals, appeared on Ant and Dec, filmed an advert for AXA insurance at Wembley and generally got everywhere I could. Mascots were treated as figures of fun, afforded a free reign to exhibit their unique brand of entertainment. However clouds started forming in 2005.

Rockingham racecourse put on an event in 2004 where each mascot got 50 free tickets to go along and watch a day’s NASCAR racing if they ran a race themselves. They did (I finished 3rd by the way Imps fan, in front of 32,000 people). However in 2005 the ticket allocation was cut to just mascot plus 1. The bubble had burst.

With the exception of the odd event mascots have mostly been treated as a free bit of entertainment ever since. Huntingdon are the worst offenders routinely cutting down on changing space and refreshments whilst all the time trying to squeeze as much fun out of mascots as possible.

Indeed two years ago Poacher and Mrs Poacher raised a massive amount of money for their chosen charity and were named ‘Best Fundraisers’. Was this publicised? No. Instead the publicity went to the mascot of that famous football club Saffron Walden FC from Saffron Walden. With a mascot called ‘Wacky Macky’ bear, because he is a Macken. From Sunderland. 237 miles away.

Now neither myself nor Mrs P wanted any publicity, that didn’t motivate our desire to help out. However with us being nudged to one side in favour of some fly by night fitness instructor wanting to get his face in the Sun really galled us.

Of course the winner from 2004 Graham the Gorilla wasn’t from anywhere near as far away as 237 miles. No he represented another football giant, Finedon Volta FC. You all know Finedon Volta, they’re from Finedon in Northants and play in the local Northants League. I wonder why they have a mascot? I’m sure it wouldn’t be to enter a national race as a ringer and win money in a betting sting. I’m 100% sure of that. Similarly I’m 100% sure Moses Swaibu grasps the concept of a self service counter, or Andy Gray has studied the Suffragette movement in immense detail.

The thing is all of this is to be expected, but a venue should move to stop behaviour like this. Mascots such as Captain Blade, City Gent and others dedicate their time (for free) to supporting charities, entertaining fans and supporting their side. Events such as the Mascot Grand National should be a chance to come together and do what they do best on a national stage. However it appears that Huntingdon Racecourse doesn’t accept this, and were more than happy to have 92 football mascots boycott this year’s event.

In the end I noticed Barnet and Norwich had representatives there though…. and shockingly for the first time since our Corry Extra or football mascot won? Done? We have been.

Richard Butcher

I don’t want to add this link anywhere because I’m not writing it for anyone to read: I’m writing it because I want to. I want to pay my own little tribute to a man I held in such high regard.

I could go on about Butch’s career, the Imps goals and the talent that was so obviously there. I could mention how certain Imps managers stifled a player who I believe was still one of the best box to box midfielders in League Two. I won’t. I want to look at one memory of a player I admired and perhaps idolised for a spell.

A 30 odd year old man perhaps shouldn’t hold players younger than him in such high regard, but I did. Butch epitomised the tenacity and work rate required by players in a Keith Alexander side. I suspect that’s why Keith signed him more or less everywhere he went: they fitted. Along with Paul Morgan, Simon Yeo and to a degree Ben Futcher they fitted the pattern of player Keith wanted.

However my memory isn’t the great times, its not the goals and the nearly moments in Cardiff. My memory is in front of maybe 2,000 fans in July 2009. Ferencvaros were the visitors in a pre season friendly, and Butch was making his comeback appearance at City. He had no hesitation in signing for Jacko and Lincoln again. I knew he would, I’d interviewed him for the Lincolncity-mad website and his Imps passion had shone through then. I knew if we were in for him, we’d get him.

He strode out onto the pitch and caused a small furore as old friends clammered to greet him. I was there with my girlfriend at the time and she was mildly concerned at the level of ‘man love’ I was showing Butch. She didn’t understand, noone can understand the bond between a football fan and his favourite player. As he walked out onto the pitch I stood almost in awe at my returning hero. So often a player does well for a club, so rarely do they continue that affection and return.

So that was it, my over riding memory of Butch. Me at the age of 30 standing slack jawed as a League Two footballer took to the field in a meaningless friendly. Maybe its a measure of the man, maybe its a measure of his passion or his commitment to the club. I remember feeling heart broken seeing him on Look North back in March chatting about the sad early passing of his mentor Keith Alexander: Now I find myself feeling the same confusion and desolation at the loss of another gentleman.

So Butch, from a fan who knew of your commiment to our club and a fan who enjoyed the good times: Rest in Peace. You should never have been taken from us, you should have been coming to Sincil Bank later in the season and grabbing the obligatory ex players goal against us.

Thanks for proving that in the maverick world of football, loyalty and geniality still exist.

Thanks for the Bournemouth goal. Thanks for the other eleven odd goals you scored.

Thanks for the interview you gave me, thanks for being open and honest.

Thanks for coming back and holding your head high when certain managers clearly didn’t fancy you.

Thanks for everything Butch. Tell Keith the Imps fans say hi.

Captain Blade: An old school mascot with old school beliefs

My mate from Sheffield Utd, Captain Blade has been in the news this week after staging a protest for Preston’s Deepdale Duck after he was escorted from the PNE pitch the week before. It seems old Bladie is getting a taste for the media spotlight!
Bladie is a good mascot mate of mine, one of what I like to refer to as the ‘old school’. There are a group of us that are all running towards double figures when referring to years served. Bladie has been supporting my events and vica versa for many years.
To give you a bit of background some mascots have a ‘home event’. Not everyone has one, but I certainly do, as does he. Bladie often asks for support at Sheffield Utds open day, and on a couple of occasions I’ve been free and gone down. It’s always an impeccably organised event where we are looked after as proper entertainers should be. Bladie always sees to that. My home event for many years was at Collingham, where the local side turn out against an all star Emmerdale cast. I often got involved and organised a mascot football match or something on the day. I think I did four before the mascots were pulled, but at almost every one Bladie put in an appearance. Similarly there were appearances from other stalwarts of the mascot game such as Yorkie (although the mascot remains the wearer Alex has retired), City Gent, Freddy Fox (and occasionally Daves wife who wasn’t a mascot but was always willing to make up the numbers), and even Benny the Buck from Telford. See these names to me are those of the ‘old school’ mascots who from 2000+ really helped catapult our bit of fun into the mainstream. Some mascots such as Baggie Bird, Lenny the Lion (Shrewsbury), and Boomer (Port Vale) were too far away to make the event but are held in similarly high esteem.
At this stage it’d be remiss of me not to mention Roary from Hull and The Scunny Bunny, both always attending our fireworks display. Both are a credit to their clubs and the rivalry you might expect doesn’t occur with these guys. In fact Scunny Bunny gets me free tickets for The Iron when City are away, and has never let me down. Top guy.
Anyway back to Bladie. As I mentioned he is old school as is Deepdale Duck. I think after twelve years service mascots perhaps expect a certain amount of respect from the clubs they perform for. To my knowledge all the names I’ve mentioned do the job for free, and for Deepdale to be escorted from the pitch for no discernable reason was abhorrent in the eyes of Bladie. He’s still smarting from his appalling treatment at the Mascot National in 2009. Back then he was shadowed by security guards before (allegedly, I don’t wanna be sued. Allegedly, but it happened) being given a few slaps and kicks to keep him out of the race. His crime? Trying to cheat. Wow. A mascot trying to cheat in a comedy race that means very little. He wasn’t doing it to win money, he wasn’t doing it for the coverage, he was doing it for good old fashioned laughs. That and a desire to knobble the athlete in a fake suit who many people had bet on….. Allegedly. Oh no wait we proved that by mugging him in 2008 as he lined up, taking his mask off and proving he was an Olympic runner. Huntingdon still let him run the race.
So Bladie has been wronged and in a way many genuine mascots were. Knowing the man behind the mask as I do, and the man behind Deepdale Duck, Bladies defence of his peer and friend came as no surprise. I can guarantee that should Scunny / Roary / City Gent be treated in that way I’d come to their defence, as I did to Bladies during the boycott of the national in September.
Course then we have the new school mascots, the sort that read about boycotts of mascot races in the paper then go and enter anyway. The fly by nights who want the newspaper headlines. These are the mascots who never seem to have the same wearer, the mascots that have no continuity, or more importantly no mutual respect. I won’t mention any names.
Deepdale Ducks experience got me thinking as to the times I’ve been escorted off the pitch. I can only remember once and it was during my first season. I seem to recall we were playing Burnley in League One (or 2 as it was then) and I had stayed at the side of the pitch to cheer the lads on. However after about ten minutes a steward was despatched to get me and remove me from the playing area. Why? Because the linesman had twice raised his offside flag when spotting my shirt across the other side of the pitch. Brilliant.
Mind you that wouldn’t my first brush with a City steward. A few months later we played Middlesbrough in a friendly, possibly Dave Cameron’s first game for the Imps. After larking about with the Borough keeper for a minute I grabbed his towel and made off with it. As I took it back he said ‘keep it mate’ and let me go. I was chuffed to bits, just because it was my first keepsake. I got changed and didn’t want to leave the towel in the bag as I was sure it’d disappear (I wasn’t looking after the suit then). So I wrapped it around my waist and headed for my seat in the Linpave Stand.
I took up my seat and noticed somewhere below me a gaggles of stewards (I think that’s the collective term…. or is it a ‘numpty of stewards’) looking up and pointing. Then they ominously made their way up towards me, along my row and finally settled right next to me.
‘We think you’ve just been in the changing area’ one said.
‘Correct’, I replied.
‘We think you’ve got something under your jumper’.
There were several things about this statement. Firstly I was flattered that wearing a towel didn’t go unnoticed. Means I was still svelt! Secondly it was a fleece and not a jumper, such an obvious error. Thirdly I’d like to remind you that Poachers identity back then was a strict secret.
‘I have’
I was trying to avoid the obvious unmasking in front of a packed stand.
‘Well what is it?’
‘My towel’
There was a small stand off before he resumed:
‘Why do you have a towel?’
I knew it was coming so in front of everyone I tried mouthing ‘I’m Poacher’. That failed as did several other clandestine attempts to fill the yellow jacketed aggressor in. Eventually I practically had to shout ‘I’m the mascot, the red furry one, the imp’ etc etc
I was allowed to keep the towel to my relief. These days the stewards at City know who I am, and some are regarded as friends as well as colleagues. I have to give a special mention to Gaz in the Stacey West stand who is a perfect example of what a steward should be like.
I’ve never really had trouble at away grounds, and that’s because I don’t tend to be controversial in other peoples back yards. You see old school mascots have an understanding of being gracious to their hosts. For instance if I were to appear at Bramall Lane, an unwritten rule is that Bladie will win the event: the home mascots event is a solid way to cement his own local reputation. Therefore in most instances the away mascot will yield! I went to a 3k run in Hull and purely out of the goodness of my heart (and straight from the capacity of my lungs) I finish way down the rank. I definitely did NOT collapse after 1km unable to breath and being over taken by kids. There were also vicious rumours we were allowed a shortcut through the KC Stadium to, viciously untrue.
Similarly when Roary came to our mascot race, both times he held off as I romped home. The first event he could have taken me out on a corner, but observed the unwritten rule to perfection. This year when I was crowned in 2nd place video replays clearly show him coming over the line in front of me. Did he protest? Not at all.
Not that I cheat in every event I run in of course; sometimes it’s a necessary evil.

Boxing Day Blues

Well peeps that’s the Christmas period out of the way and for the first festive season ever Poacher hasn’t put in an appearance. Our long list of cancellations meant that at the time of writing I haven’t donned the suit since our 3-1 win over Hereford. Of course I missed the 5-0 Bury defeat because the suit was left in a right state by whoever else had used it. Well this weekend against Bradford I was hoping for my first outing, but sadly that didn’t occur either. This time the suit hadn’t been collected from the dry cleaners, meaning I’ve had my longest spell out of the fur for thirteen years. This year is the first year the club has also had full use of the suit and there seems to be a settling in period.

I’ve had some eventful Boxing Day clashes. The biggest was probably 2009 when we played Chesterfield. I had been contacted by a film crew in the weeks leading up to the match. It seemed a guy wanted a chance to be a mascot, and wondered what I could teach him. I offered him a place in Mrs Poacher’s suit, and he responded by asking if he could come to my house and film a bit of an interview. Of course I said yes, and so at 9am on 26^th December a bloke and his girlfriend turned up on my doorstep.

Now I think his name was Anthony, a really top guy. I know her name was Siobhan because somehow I remember pretty girls names much easier than I do blokes!! They did a bit of filming, asked a few questions and I cooked them a bacon butty or two. The questions were fairly standard stuff, but it was all good fun. I remember they wanted to film where Poacher stayed during the day, and back then it was my responsibility to look after the suit: No surprise it was all cleaned and ready to go when they arrived!

We went to the ground together and they followed me for my usual pre match routine. We had a few beers and then migrated into the stands to watch the game. It was agreed that we wouldn’t go out at half time, and that they could film me during the game. Ant also asked if he could wire me and him for sound so they could get our internal mascot audio for their filming. I obviously said yes.

We got out on the pitch and I kept giving Ant some tips. As Alan Long said hello to the fans I happened to call Ant over and tell him a story about Chesterfields miners and the sort of vitriol that used to be aimed at them in the 1980’s (you can shove your f*cking miners up your ar5e etc). I noted that Alan looked a tad surprised. Anyway we carried on and as I went round my language got more colourful: only this time some people seemed to be able to hear. As I got closer to Casey and his booth I noticed that I could hear feedback….. I turned to Ant to ask what the f*ck was going on, and clearly heard myself over the tannoy system (which is quite an achievement given the tannoy system at City).

It appears that the frequency the two guys were using was the same frequency as the system, and some of my comments had been audible across the ground. Come 90 minutes I didn’t care though because we’d won 2-1 and Jack Lester had missed a penalty. Apparently my celebration of the penalty miss was the highlight of the film.

The other Boxing Day that really stands out in my mind was my first season. We played Macclesfield and I seem to recall won 1-0 thanks to a Steve Holmes penalty. Anyway the club had been in a bit of trouble, and as I went around at half time a fan grabbed me and really gave me a good telling off! He said I was a drain on the clubs finances and I should go forth and multiply. Or something.

See that really got to me. I was (as I may have mentioned) purely a voluntary worker, and therefore didn’t actually cost the club anything. I suppose you could argue (certainly now) that the image of Poacher, Poachers club etc actually brings funds to the club. Anyway I was very offended by this moron, and felt angry enough to write a strongly worded letter to the Echo putting my point across.

The letter was clearly read by Jerry Lonsdale who was commercial manager at the time. I have the greatest respect for Jerry as he always made sure he said thank you or pointed out the things I did wrong. It’s always good to know where you stand, and with Jerry you did. I was also grateful that he gave me the job in the first place. Anyway Jerry felt strongly enough to write me a letter thanking me for my efforts and reiterating the clubs gratitude that I gave up my time to perform as Poacher. I still have that letter: to date the only one the club have written me!

There was a Christmas clash with Bradford a few years ago where I believe we lost 2-1 that also sticks in the memory. I was going out with a girl some of you may remember (certainly Chopper will), who was not only extremely good looking (in my opinion) but also a bit of a spoilt kid (everyone’s opinion). As I got changed she attempted to remain n the bar area where the likes of Shane Clarke and the rest of the youth team were watching the game. I vetoed the idea and insisted she came to change with me: Billy the Bantam appeared as well. Bradford’s mascot is essentially The City Gent, a well known and likeable character whom I hold in very high esteem. The Bantam is a mascot who only seemed to do home games and apparently has a penchant for adding pretty girls he barely knows on Facebook, including my spoilt brat of an ex. That’s why it sticks in my mind, the anger. That and Barry Conlon getting the last laugh in our ongoing battle (the one I know about and he doesn’t) by scoring the last minute winner.

Anyway Happy New Year to you all. The next blog will be my big TV appearance on Ant and Dec I think. It’ll be a two parter with some special guest stars and the usual injection of dry humour.

Mascot Battles (Part 1)

One thing that I often get asked it if I ever fight with other mascots. The question has its roots in an incident from fifteen years ago when Wolfie from Wolves had a fight with three little pigs. The fight made the tabloids and seemed to catch the nation’s imagination. Even now I get willed to fight with other mascots. Being far too sensible I obviously never have….

The truth about the Wolverhampton incident is this: it was a marketing stunt gone extremely wrong, or right depending on your view. The game was against Bristol City I believe (my memory isn’t what it used to be) and the three little pigs were there with Coldseal windows promoting something. Probably windows. Anyway the idea was always for them to have a coming together, but I think it got took too far. The season after the guy playing Wolfie had been replaced, and a lad called Phil became the next incumbent of the suit. I rated Phil highly, and we even went to watch Shrewsbury together and met up a few times. Top guy.

Anyway I thought this might be a good time to relay my various mascot rivals.

The very first one that comes into my mind is H’Angus the Monkey from Hartlepool. This

H'Angus prior to winning the vote for mayor. Shortly after Stuart Drummond emerged and a legend was born

 was a long while back, and the guy in the suit was a lad called Stuart Drummond. He was a real character, a drinker and a joker someone I’d describe as a ‘lads lad’. I never argued with him, but he was the first (and only) mascot to get the better of me at Sincil Bank. It was the opening day of our season possibly back in 1999/2000. He was the first away mascot ever to visit the Bank and I was excited at playing host. Out on the pitch he tapped me on the shoulder, so I turned his way. He pointed to the sky and I looked up: straight into the sun. For a few seconds I was blinded and he took that chance to push me over and run away laughing. I had been owned and at that point I made sure it wasn’t to happen again. I start with my weakest moment ever at Sincil Bank there, so lap it up haters!

The first time I clashed on more than one occasion with a mascot was with Sammy the Stag from Mansfield. Early in my Poacher career he came to Sincil Bank and oversaw us slip to a 3 or 4 goal deficit at half time. I planned to go out and try and gee up the crowd, but instead as I got changed he popped into the changing room for a quick gloat. He wasn’t malicious but I was still wet behind the ears in mascot terms and I took it personally. I went out and performed a sit in, right on the centre spot. After the game I felt a bit foolish that I hadn’t supported the team, I’d turned on them quite easily. I vowed not to do that next season, and I didn’t disappoint.

The next year they visited again and my old friend rocked up again. Before the game he tried a few tricks like lying down behind me so I fell over, and the classic ‘handshake withdrawal’. Neither worked as I retained my dignified host routine. At half time we came out on the pitch for a penalty shoot out, two shots apiece with the other in goal. I popped my first penalty away comfortably, and he duly replied by scoring his. I stepped up to take mine, and as I did he went and mimicked cleaning his boots by banging them on the post. I waited for a second while his tired routine was complete before scoring my goal. He stepped up and struck his shot, it bounced from the underside of the goal and onto the line…… and back out. I ran off to celebrate and Alan Long announced me as the winner.

However our friend from Mansfield was not amused. He felt cheated and perhaps forgetting he was a grown man dressed as a Stag taking a penalty against and Imp he decided to remonstrate. His goal had gone in, and he should retake if there was doubt. All very funny. Only it wasn’t to him, he was actually seriously wound up. He stormed off and had changed by the time I went in. The next time I were to see him the stakes were a bit higher but my morals were as low as ever.

I’ll blog about my Wembley trip later, but at the end of that season I found myself at the home of football. We were filming an AXA Insurance advert that was shown during every FA Cup tie for the following season. Part of the filming was pairing two mascots up and get them to take a penalty against their partner. The partners were chosen by pairing rivals up, Moonchester and Fred The Red from Manchester, Scunny Bunny and Mighty Mariner from Grimsby, and of course myself and Sammy The Stag from Mansfield.

I hadn’t seen him there, but as I was called he emerged from a group of furry fiends and walked towards the goal. It was the end Gazza had performed the famous dentists chair celebration, and already in my mind I’d decided that I was having some of that (so to speak). I went in goal first and watched as Sammy comically sliced the ball over the bar. Everyone thought it was hilarious, a real comedy miss. In the suit he was fuming.

My good 'friend' Sammy The Stag

Now I’d obviously studied his penalty routine before and knew he’d go and bang his shoes against the post. This time I didn’t wait for him to return to the centre of the goal. I wanted to score at Wembley, and I did just that while his back was turned. 1-0 on the day, 2-0 on aggregate I ran over to the side of the goal and laid on my back a la Sir Gazza. I didn’t get a face full of water though, I got an agitated 50 year old man swearing at me as loudly as he could through the sweaty stag shaped foam head. I didn’t care.

He stopped coming to Sincil Bank after that and I didn’t go to Field Mill either so our paths didn’t cross. I began to get more entwined in the mascot social circuit and he obviously stayed at home playing warcraft and touching himself over pictures of Xena warrior princess. Probably (for legal reasons I’d like to clarify that I made those two facts up).

I’ve already covered my little on field spats with the Boston Panther so there’s no need to cover that, and aside from that I’ve very few mascots I dislike. Out of the suits we get on well, some of the guys I’d consider good friends.

I did have a bit of a dust up with Grimsby mascot The Mighty Mariner last season, but I can’t remember if I’ve blogged about that or not. I’ll have a read back, and if not I’ll cover it in a ‘part 2’ over the weekend.

Why do it?

I figure it’s time for another blog, and a question I often gets asked is: Why do it? So I shall answer that for you, and give you a blog at the same time. Multi tasking, women take note: It isn’t hard.
The first time I actually saw the advert on the back of the Echo was in a friends kitchen in Wragby. I was employed at Mckechnie Plastics in my home town, and had just paid money to watch most of our promotion season. That had culminated in a 2-0 win over Brighton and a wave of mass euphoria. Football fans will tell you there are times you feel close to your club, and times you feel disenchanted. After the usual ten years of very little (which Imps fans everywhere will be all too familiar with) we suddenly had pride. Now I wasn’t good enough to play for the club, but maybe I could be mascot? That was my third thought.
My second thought was linked to an unhappy relationship I was in at the time. I had bagged myself a girl who wasn’t exactly causing me to live loves young dream. I wanted somewhere else to be on a Saturday, and an extra job seemed good. If that job heaped embarrassment on her and caused a rift then I was striking it lucky. That was my second thought, and the one I usually use in conversation when people ask. It seems far less mercenary than my first thought: Money.
That’s right, the first thing I thought was ‘I could earn a few extra quid here’, and so I rang up. Everything else was an afterthought as I contemplated my life as a mascot. First and foremost I was poor and could do with not only saving my entrance fee, but perhaps bagging twenty quid into the deal.
Imagine my surprise in the interview when it was explained the position was voluntary.
By then though the thought of being Poacher the Imp had planted seeds in my mind. I could be involved. The paper might carry my picture, and I might get access to my heroes even if they were a third tier side. I might get a seconds airing on Sky Sports. I might feel like I belong to my football club.
Funny when I look back because now there is a stand and a kids club named after me, I own a moneybox with ‘my’ own face on; I’ve been on Ant and Dec and even scored goals at Wembley and The Millennium Stadium. The most I wanted was a flash of fur on Calendar and maybe to get in the odd away ground for free.
So what motivates me? It’s clearly not the money. The position is voluntary and in my belief it should be at every club up and down the country. You can pay a man to love something and he’ll do his best if you’re a true fan willing with REAL passion for the club then your performance will always be more rousing, more passionate and ultimately genuine. I’d feel guilty at taking money from the club I love who are giving me the opportunity to do the job I love, it seems ludicrous! I acknowledge some mascots love their club and do get paid, but there are a minority who are motivated by the money. I don’t wanna point the finger (Fred The Red), but last time I heard United paid you £30 an hour and flew you on pre season tours of Singapore.
That’s not to say I don’t gain a little by being Poacher. The odd little keepsake here and there from events and games are nice, as is the programme and team sheet the club give me on a match day. I get a nice car parking space next to the ground as well which does help ease stress, especially with the bag to drag across the city! Let me tell you as well, that bags not light. There are lumps everywhere and if you carry it wrong you might just get a horn in a hole you don’t like. Or maybe you do. Who knows?
I get a discount in the club shop as well. How goods that? No I won’t buy you a shirt.
I get other rewards though. I remember in my first season we played Fulham, managed by Kevin Keegan at the time. I was going through my memorabilia phase and liked to get a programme signed by someone from the other side. So out I strode onto the pitch, pen tucked in the front my shorts and programme down the back. As Kevin emerged I rushed over and pulled the two from my nether regions before presenting him with them. He duly signed and went off to sit down.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I am boasting of my signed Kevin Keegan programme and how I abused my position to obtain it. You are, aren’t you?
Well this story is actually about me being generous and kind, sorry to disappoint. As Keegan walked away there was a little boy crying at the front. He’d come down from the stands to get the programme signed and Kevin had missed him. It was quite clear by his age and Dads Newcastle shirt that he had no clue who Keegan was, but I gave in anyway. I went over and gave him my programme.
See there is rich reward. I made that kid happy, and every week similar things happen, often smaller but always the same result. Every week a young child is attending their first ever game, or want their picture taken with me. I really buzz off being able to help make their day special, like years ago when my Dad made the day special for me. Okay back during my first game there was far less pre match entertainment and access to people at the club but you still remember attending the games and good things happening. I just want to give that back every week.
There are two postscripts to this story. The first is this: I gave that kid my programme, but he never handed his unsigned one over to me. Subsequently I ended up with no programme and back then I was buying my own. So I gave £2.50 away as well as Keegans signature. It’s true, nice guys always finish last.
Secondly there is a nasty underbelly to this, when kids decide that what would actually make their day is attacking me. I mainly get hit over the head when bending down for a handshake, or have my gloves grabbed and tugged by enthusiastic future ASBO chavs. Both tend to spoil my day.
Oh and then there are the kids who shit themselves and scream and scream and scream and scream until I go away. That isn’t an unfamiliar situation to me in the night clubs of Lincoln though so I can handle that.
I do it to be a part of my club as well. There are some wonderful people at the club who have always helped immensely over the years. As I sit here and contemplate it I feel a list coming on: Steve Prescott, Jill Fox, JV, Wayne Banks, Tim Poole, James Lazenby, Kerry France, Jerry Lonsdale, Rob Noble, Mo from the tea room, Paul Owen, obviously Alan Long, Casey, The Vaughans, Bubs, the list goes on and on. That isn’t extensive, but I’ve never been let down by these people and seeing them season after season is a blessing. I’m not going all heartfelt on you, just saying to feel like you belong to you club is the biggest thing a fan can feel. I’m sure there are guys out there who feel the same, the 12th Man guys for instance. It doesn’t matter how you’re involved, but being involved is important.
Finally I have to confess I like the kudos of being the mascot. I get embarrassed when people introduce me to their friends by going ‘you know who this is don’t you?’ It happens loads, more so with my none Lincoln City friends! I stand there thinking ‘of course they don’t know. They’re not Lincoln fans and if they were what on earth would make them think I was a six foot Imp whose existence they haven’t acknowledged?’ Then I get the big reveal and the usual ten minute conversation about it: and it’s right there the appeal lies. People are interested; they want to know all about the mascot life. I always say ‘Life is like a jungle and not like a zoo, participate, don’t spectate become the view’ (well The King Blues sang it first but I use it now) so I guess being interesting is better than being banal?
I’ll leave you with the usual amusing tale. A few years ago we played York City. I seem to think it was the sixth game of the season, and they had a five match winning streak (time may have clouded the facts there). Chris Brass was their manager and we beat them 3-0. Anyway at half time Bev from the St Johns ambulance crew suggested I get patched up looking injured and collect some money from the fans. I did it, and we strayed into the away end. I maintain to this day Bev led me in there on purpose, but shortly after I went in something felt cold around my ears….
A York fan was proceeding back into the stands carrying my head. I was stood in my full suit with my arm in a losing and a bandage on my head. Worst of all my actual head was poking out of the top of the suit and my skin was rapidly turning a deeper red than my fur. I imagine at that time I looked like an Imp with a zit for a head. I could nothing as their fans tossed my head from one to the other, cheering each time it didn’t come back to me.
By the time it did it seemed a little more damp than when it left me. I put it back on and went through the charade of getting back into character for the (long) walk back to the changing rooms.
Humiliation in front of 4000 football fans. That is not why I do the job.