QPR FC: Bert Addinall An' All!
Article by Joanne Connolly
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When we think of the cult of celebrity in relation to football players we tend to chart its origins in the 1960s - the first decade that televisions were universally available, thus the first time that people had regular exposure to their sporting heroes on the small screen, creating the illusion that the viewer knew the players personally on some kind of level, via the medium of television with programmes such as Match of The Day (which began in 1964) and its contemporary, Star Soccer, on ITV: conveying the notion that footballers prior to those times had not been the objects of idolatry for the fans , that was the case with the emergence of such stars as George Best and our very own Rodney Marsh; however, I believe the trend began a generation before that in the 1940s ,with the fans of my Dad’s era hero-worshipping such immensely popular figures as Bert Addinall: a much loved centre forward who scored 74 goals in 172 games in an illustrious ten-year service for the club from 1943 to 1953.
That is not to say that Bert was not born into the same modest circumstances as those who proffered their two bob pieces to cover the admission fee of 1/6d to watch him don those beloved hoops. Bert Addinall was born in Marylebone in 1921 and moved to Ashford Road, Paddington as a child of nine. He was the youngest of 13 children. Large families were the norm in working class communities and many felt the pinch of penury - relying on the help of such charitable organisations as the Salvation Army, which was located in Cirencester Street, Paddington, to provide clothing and cheap or free meals. This was a time before the birth of the NHS and a visit to the Doctor would be paid for via the pawn shop. Bert suffered the loss of his mother at the early age of 11, a terrible time for Bert; but Bert’s Dad and elder siblings kept the family together through their employment as decorators and builders in Paddington where, at the age of 16 he met his wife of 65 years: Mary. She, too, came from a big family of 10 children. Sadly, 5 of her siblings died in infancy - leaving her with 4 brothers; which proved to be a stumbling block to Bert’s amorous intentions towards her- she said that the first time she saw him, he whistled at her and shouted “You’ve got a fair pair of legs!” So, she did what all virtuous girls should do and warned him off with her brothers! This was no deterrent to Bert and they married at Harrow Road Registry Office in 1940. Bert left school in 1935 and trained to be an engineer with the British Oxygen Company in Park Royal. This was a reserved occupation during World War Two but Bert still joined the army around 1943 training as a P.E. Instructor: he rose to the rank of Sergeant and was posted to Egypt for active service; somewhat of a misnomer, as he went to Egypt late on in the war and was part of the “clear-up operation” after El Alamein, coaching the soldiers out there in various sporting activities. Bert, being a sergeant, was seconded a servant and, having a boy on hand to wait on his every want, he had now assumed the role of Colonial Master and “better” - an irony that would not have been lost on Bert who had suffered the privations of poverty in pre-war Paddington and, coupled with his enjoyment of the local cuisine, he put on weight, which Mary said was the first thing that struck her when he returned home to her after two years! In fact, it might have been said that Bert was more in the thick of it when, prior to his leaving for Egypt and with Mary and his children being evacuated to Manchester, Bert was supposed to visit for the week-end but instead, to Mary’s annoyance, went to a wedding reception in a house in London. The house was bombed and the bride and groom were buried for hours (probably not quite the romantic seclusion they had looked forward to as a Honeymoon couple!) Bert got glass embedded in his back and had to go to hospital to have it removed. When he told Mary about it, she replied wryly: “Should have come up here, it was quiet!!!” On his return, he played football at week-ends on Paddington recreation ground for the British Oxygen Works team and the Paddington Civil Defence [A.R.P.] team, where he was to be spotted by a Q.P.R. talent Scout and signed up in 1943. However, due to the suspension of football league games throughout World War Two, Bert’s full league debut would not be until September 1946: A 3-0 victory against Bournemouth. Dave Mangnall was the team’s manager and Bert was told to give his age as 17 (he was actually 22) - the rationale for this, apparently, was that he would be given more of a chance to mature at the professional level if it was thought he was a youth. I have also been told that clubs would always leave it to the last minute to sign young players to save money - the consequence of this was that Mary (his wife) did not attend games for his first few seasons as he could not be seen to be married!!! I think, for Bert, this was probably a blessing in disguise as, prior to the first game Mary went to, Bert entreated her not to shout out, whatever she saw, as he’d had enough of his sisters reading him (and the opposing team) the riot act during every match he played!!! This puts me in mind of a story my Dad told me about his brother in law, my Uncle, Arthur Williams; whom my Dad used to go to Rangers with as a boy during the period that Bert was playing for them: Arthur was very much of the same stamp as Bert; a tall well- built man and, like Bert, reserved and softly-spoken; but once on the terraces a transformation would take place! He would harangue the members of the opposing team for the entire 90 minutes (and sometimes the home team if he felt that they were not offering enough endeavour) and use profanities that my Dad had been hitherto unaware of! Arthur would always apologise for his untoward behaviour once the game was over but I know that my Dad was secretly thrilled to be a party to Arthur’s dearth of decorum. I wonder if Bert was ever in earshot of Arthur’s battery of abuse?!!!
Bert’s wages when he first started at Rangers were £10 for a loss, £12 for a draw and £14 for a win- the average wage was £5 per week then but, as Mary pointed out, Bert and the rest of the team always had to look smart and, therefore, a large amount of his wages went on being “suited and booted”! Also during the summer months [close season] they were paid considerably less and were forced to take on casual work - in Bert’s case, he worked with one of his brothers, who was a builder. For the ten years that Bert was a Rangers player, the family lived in Shirland Road, Paddington, amongst the people who were paying to see him play. They enjoyed some plaudits, however, in that they were the first family in the street to have a car and later a television.
Bert certainly had to suffer for his football - a curious fact is that players were made to wear a boot two sizes smaller than their actual shoe size so that the boot would fit like a glove. Toenails would drop off and his feet would be blistered and sore so, naturally, he hated getting new boots. The occupational hazard of injuries sustained was not confined to lost toenails!!! The bustling Bert was a stoic and sturdy centre-forward who would never shirk from the physicality of the game, breaking both his jaw and cheekbone and having sixteen hairline fractures of bones in his legs; and yet, he was never heard to complain, he just accepted the injuries as an intrinsic element of the game.
Indeed Mary, his wife, stated that she was surprised that Bert wasn’t more seriously injured because of how dauntless he was. My Dad always told me how brave Bert was, taking on all-comers in his quest for the ball. Indeed, as a contemporary of my Dad has commented: “He was never worried about getting knocked off the ball and seemed to shrug off the tough tackles easily. Left foot, right foot and head all came into play for this old-school artisan. Two important things to remember here are that in those days a hefty shoulder charge against an opposition player was perfectly acceptable – provided of course that he was in possession of the ball – and on more than one occasion a goalkeeper was legitimately charged into the net whilst still holding the ball. The other point worth making is that virtually all teams played a standard 2-3-5 formation in those days (and some feel that the systems in place today are by no means an improvement on that formation) and a centre forward was not expected to move too far back.” That is something that could never be directed at Bert Addinall- some have suggested that he was something of a “goal hanger”, who always managed to get himself in the right place at the right time. Perhaps he was, but it certainly reaped dividends in his impressive goalscoring tally. He had a role to play which he fearlessly fulfilled. Indeed, on the day of the game in which he broke his cheekbone, Bert had arranged to meet up with Mary at a dance after the game. She got there at the arranged time, swaying to the music as she awaited Bert’s arrival. She became increasingly worried as the evening wore on and Bert still hadn’t arrived. When Bert eventually appeared his cheekbone was smashed in and his face was a in a terrible state: he had been taken to hospital; the victim of an errant elbow to the face, but Bert, being the imperturbable type that he was, still turned up to the dance, albeit a trifle late! Before the kick-off of the game against Fulham in 1946, the Fulham defender Frankie Neary ,a player of fearsome fizzog and fully-fledged infamy approached Bert and muttered menacingly in his ear “How do you want it?” and Bert replied “Anyway you like it!!!” Neary proceeded to kick the life out of Bert but Bert showed no quarter and certainly no fear, reciprocating in kind and afterwards Neary said “You are the only one who’s ever stood up to me!!!” Bert laughed and said, “Yeah, I know, and look what you’ve done to me!” A few weeks later, Neary walked in to Loftus Road and said, “Hi Bert, I’m playing today!” and Bert said “Oh no, not you again!” This time Neary laughed and said “Don’t worry; I’m on your side now!” He’d joined Rangers and they became good mates. Mary commented, too, on the strong sense of camaraderie that existed amongst the team; how they all got on really well together.
Bert was, indeed, a gregarious man. In those days, the team would travel to away matches on the train with the supporters and, on the way back, he would always have a drink and a chat with the fans. In fact, Bert, along with Reg Allen (Rangers goalkeeper at the time) was seen as a bit of a pin-up boy amongst the female contingent of Rangers fans and, according to Mary, his gregariousness could sometimes unintentionally be his undoing!!! At a Supporters Club Dance in the early 50s Mary said that she and Bert had arrived at the Dance only for one of Bert’s ardent admirers to immediately monopolise Bert’s attention, even standing in between man and wife!!! Mary tolerated this for a while but soon her patience ran out and she managed to extricate her husband from the clutches of that diehard devotee and said to her: “Look, I don’t often get the chance to spend the evening with my husband without our children [they had four by then] so would you do me a favour and bugger off?!! When I’m not here, you can have him all to yourself!” Bert would get attention from all quarters: inmates of Wormwood Scrubs would write to him and he would always write back to them. By the same token, he was good friends with many members of the footballing elite.
Although on the outbreak of war the football league had been suspended (along with all other entertainment establishments) and most football competitions were abandoned, regional leagues were later set up instead. War was declared on the 3rd September 1939 and on the 14th September 1939 the government gave permission for clubs to play friendlies. In the interests of safety, the number of spectators was limited to 8000, but this was later revised to 15,000. The government imposed a 50 mile travelling limit and the football league divided all clubs into 7 regional areas where games would take place. The Luftwaffe’s first bombing raid on London was the 10th July 1940. During the Battle of Britain clubs continued to play football. On the 19th September 1940, soon after the beginning of the Blitz, the F.A. relaxed their ban on Sunday football to provide recreation for war workers. Churchill took the view that the continuation of football was good for the morale of the nation. It would all have been on a very loosely structured ad hoc basis, players turning out for various teams depending on who was available at any given time during the war. As many footballers, like Bert, had been conscripted to fight in the war, teams were depleted and fielded “Guest” players instead: Crystal Palace, for example, fielded 186 different players during 7 wartime seasons.
The British Army had invited some of the best footballers to become Physical Training Instructors at Aldershot Camp. Bert was one of those who accepted and he was in excellent company: amongst his comrades were Joe Mercer, Matt Busby, Tommy Lawton and Billy Wright. Billy Wright was a top First Division star with Wolves and a future Wolves and England Captain. Bert was a lower division, London-based player and, under normal sporting circumstances, they might never have met but, due to the extraordinary intervention of wartime , their paths crossed on both the wartime football circuit and at the training camp in Aldershot; a friendship was forged which was to be an enduring one. Billy referred to Bert as “his Cockney Mate” or as Bert might have termed it “his Paddington Pal” and they shared a mutual respect and regard for one another. Just as Bert was adored by his acolytes amongst the Rangers crowd, Billy was a glamorous figure, too - going on to marry Joy, one of The Beverley Sisters, and they were, indeed, the progenitors of the Beckhams and their ilk today.
Although Bert signed for Rangers in 1943 he was then posted to Egypt so that he never actually played for QPR until April 1945, rejoining the club from the Army on a permanent basis at the end of his spell abroad, whereupon he soon made up for lost time by scoring 13 goals in 16 wartime appearances. He signed official forms for Rangers in the 1946 close season and made his post-war official league debut for Rangers versus Bournemouth in a 3-0 victory in September 1946. He broke into the first team regularly during the four seasons that Rangers spent in the Second Division. He was leading scorer on a number of occasions and an archetypal centre forward of the time, always committed to goalscoring; some have termed him aggressive but that was merely the manifestation of the solidity of his style and stature. He was actually a quiet man who was not given to unduly raising his voice, he would say his piece if it was required but no more and would never be heard to complain to the referee about unfair or harsh treatment. His philosophy was that it was an inherent part of the game; not for him the label “Prima Donna”. He would have had no comprehension of such a term.
Bert spent a long and happy ten years playing for Rangers, in which he established himself as a firm favourite with the fans: he was my Dad’s idol and the kind of footballer my Dad aspired to be: intrepid and indomitable but ever the gentleman. He was transferred to Brighton and Hove Albion in 1953 but the sea air didn’t seem to agree with him (perhaps he needed to partake of the polluted air of Paddington once more) and he left there after one season to play for Crystal Palace, where he played 12 games before he ended his league career. He finished his footballing days with Kent League side Snowdon Colliery and enjoyed two seasons with them setting up a new scoring record for the club, netting nearly 100 goals in one season. So his shooting boots were put to good use right through to his retirement from football in 1956. Bert then became the landlord of a pub in Shoreham in what was a typical post-football move. Like many other ex-players, he invested in a small business with the little money he had eked out of the game. Bert’s innate geniality, too, would have made this an obvious proposition for him – however, it transpired that the demands of the Pub trade excessively impinged on the family life of a couple with young children and Bert, after a couple of years, decided to give it up and return to his native homeland: London.
Bert then embarked on a career as a London Cab Driver, having trained under the auspices of a British Legion scheme, but his association with Rangers did not end with that ten-year playing spell: he continued to be ever-present at home games but had swapped his Rangers shirt to stand on the Loftus Road end as a spectator, paying his two shillings entrance fee along with thousands of others to whom he had been a hero. In fact, Bert often got waylaid at Rangers by his fellow fans, asking him his thoughts on the current team and of the state of football in general. Who would have thought that one of the most popular footballers ever to wear the number 9 shirt would watch his team from the terraces? However, that is what he always insisted on after he left the club in 1953. His taxi could be seen parked in close proximity to the ground prior to every home game. He came from the people and remained a man of the masses saying in a newspaper interview at the time [1956], “There is no club quite like Queens Park Rangers” and that “I have always loved the game and I am grateful for all the friends I have made.” Bert remained a keen sportsman, coaching local children in his spare time, right up into his senior years. Not for him a relaxing retirement! In 2001, Rangers (well, the match ball sponsors, Townend’s ) finally saw fit to pay tribute to one of their most unsung ambassadors at the home game against Tranmere Rovers: a presentation of the match ball was made to Bert on the pitch prior to the game by Richard Langley and Danny Murphy, two members of the current Rangers team. Bert was so affected by this that he cried- the quiet, unassuming man who had remained forever Rangers. Mary told me that, after the game, the family and friends were enjoying the hospitality of Rangers in their box when, suddenly, the door opened and all heads turned, including Marys’, and who did she see but the fervent fan from fifty years before!!!! Mary’s daughter Maureen said “That’s not the one who was always mad about Dad is it???” and Mary replied “Yes it is, tell me about it!” In she smouldered, the Shepherds Bush siren. Bert was sitting facing the pitch, so was still unaware of her presence, but not for long! She grabbed Bert and started kissing him passionately, smothering him with a smooch and Bert, once he’d redeemed his equilibrium, said: “Oh… Oh, ‘ello Daff.” ‘Mary’s daughters were in hysterics and one of them said jokingly, “Look at her falling all over Dad! Go and smack her one mum!!!!” Mary replied, “No, let him enjoy it while he can, she’s waited long enough!!! ” and that she was one of his supporters after all! Mary said she couldn’t resist saying to Bert, “Are you enjoying yourself, Bert?” and he said “Yeah” but glowered at her- a very reluctant romeo!!!! In fact, Bert really did not invite such attention, it was enough for him that his club had afforded him such approbation, something that he richly deserved. He was a consummate athlete and remained a fit and active man until he was cruelly struck down with diabetes, the corollary of this was that he would have a foot amputated, which understandably rendered him frustrated that such a brutal misfortune had befallen him. Mary told me the story of how she had been at Bert’s beck and call for hours one particular day and was very tired, but Bert’s requests were relentless, and she begged him to give her a rest and go to sleep. He became quite irate and started banging on the floor of his bedroom to her (sitting downstairs) with his walking stick. She became quite irate too and shouted at him, “If you don’t stop that, I’ll break that stick in half!!!” To which he replied, “Not before I’ve hit you with it!” And, with that, they began trying to wrestle the stick from one another, only to both burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation and what a pair of silly old sods they both were! Mary also told me that Bert, at a later stage in his illness, had gone into a diabetic coma and she had called an ambulance. The medics were trying without success to bring him round and asked Mary what they could say to him to bring him out of it? Mary, knowing what a strong, spirited man he was, told them to ask him if he wanted to go to hospital? Which they did and his eyes flickered and then opened and he murmured “Piss Off!!” So the medics treated him there and then, and there was no need for him to go to hospital after all.
A trooper till the end, Bert Addinall: a staunch servant and supporter of Rangers, truly possessed of a blue and white hooped heart, the like of which we may never see again in the professional game.
JOANNE CONNOLLY
*This article is dedicated to the memory of two extraordinary working class men:
Albert William “Bert” Addinall, January 30th 1921- 2nd May 2005
Edward Joseph “Ted” Connolly, May 3rd 1931 - November 27th 2010
I would also like to extend my heartfelt thanks to Bert’s remarkable widow, Mary Addinall, for all her assistance and anecdotes, and without whom this article would have not been possible.
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When we think of the cult of celebrity in relation to football players we tend to chart its origins in the 1960s - the first decade that televisions were universally available, thus the first time that people had regular exposure to their sporting heroes on the small screen, creating the illusion that the viewer knew the players personally on some kind of level, via the medium of television with programmes such as Match of The Day (which began in 1964) and its contemporary, Star Soccer, on ITV: conveying the notion that footballers prior to those times had not been the objects of idolatry for the fans , that was the case with the emergence of such stars as George Best and our very own Rodney Marsh; however, I believe the trend began a generation before that in the 1940s ,with the fans of my Dad’s era hero-worshipping such immensely popular figures as Bert Addinall: a much loved centre forward who scored 74 goals in 172 games in an illustrious ten-year service for the club from 1943 to 1953.
That is not to say that Bert was not born into the same modest circumstances as those who proffered their two bob pieces to cover the admission fee of 1/6d to watch him don those beloved hoops. Bert Addinall was born in Marylebone in 1921 and moved to Ashford Road, Paddington as a child of nine. He was the youngest of 13 children. Large families were the norm in working class communities and many felt the pinch of penury - relying on the help of such charitable organisations as the Salvation Army, which was located in Cirencester Street, Paddington, to provide clothing and cheap or free meals. This was a time before the birth of the NHS and a visit to the Doctor would be paid for via the pawn shop. Bert suffered the loss of his mother at the early age of 11, a terrible time for Bert; but Bert’s Dad and elder siblings kept the family together through their employment as decorators and builders in Paddington where, at the age of 16 he met his wife of 65 years: Mary. She, too, came from a big family of 10 children. Sadly, 5 of her siblings died in infancy - leaving her with 4 brothers; which proved to be a stumbling block to Bert’s amorous intentions towards her- she said that the first time she saw him, he whistled at her and shouted “You’ve got a fair pair of legs!” So, she did what all virtuous girls should do and warned him off with her brothers! This was no deterrent to Bert and they married at Harrow Road Registry Office in 1940. Bert left school in 1935 and trained to be an engineer with the British Oxygen Company in Park Royal. This was a reserved occupation during World War Two but Bert still joined the army around 1943 training as a P.E. Instructor: he rose to the rank of Sergeant and was posted to Egypt for active service; somewhat of a misnomer, as he went to Egypt late on in the war and was part of the “clear-up operation” after El Alamein, coaching the soldiers out there in various sporting activities. Bert, being a sergeant, was seconded a servant and, having a boy on hand to wait on his every want, he had now assumed the role of Colonial Master and “better” - an irony that would not have been lost on Bert who had suffered the privations of poverty in pre-war Paddington and, coupled with his enjoyment of the local cuisine, he put on weight, which Mary said was the first thing that struck her when he returned home to her after two years! In fact, it might have been said that Bert was more in the thick of it when, prior to his leaving for Egypt and with Mary and his children being evacuated to Manchester, Bert was supposed to visit for the week-end but instead, to Mary’s annoyance, went to a wedding reception in a house in London. The house was bombed and the bride and groom were buried for hours (probably not quite the romantic seclusion they had looked forward to as a Honeymoon couple!) Bert got glass embedded in his back and had to go to hospital to have it removed. When he told Mary about it, she replied wryly: “Should have come up here, it was quiet!!!” On his return, he played football at week-ends on Paddington recreation ground for the British Oxygen Works team and the Paddington Civil Defence [A.R.P.] team, where he was to be spotted by a Q.P.R. talent Scout and signed up in 1943. However, due to the suspension of football league games throughout World War Two, Bert’s full league debut would not be until September 1946: A 3-0 victory against Bournemouth. Dave Mangnall was the team’s manager and Bert was told to give his age as 17 (he was actually 22) - the rationale for this, apparently, was that he would be given more of a chance to mature at the professional level if it was thought he was a youth. I have also been told that clubs would always leave it to the last minute to sign young players to save money - the consequence of this was that Mary (his wife) did not attend games for his first few seasons as he could not be seen to be married!!! I think, for Bert, this was probably a blessing in disguise as, prior to the first game Mary went to, Bert entreated her not to shout out, whatever she saw, as he’d had enough of his sisters reading him (and the opposing team) the riot act during every match he played!!! This puts me in mind of a story my Dad told me about his brother in law, my Uncle, Arthur Williams; whom my Dad used to go to Rangers with as a boy during the period that Bert was playing for them: Arthur was very much of the same stamp as Bert; a tall well- built man and, like Bert, reserved and softly-spoken; but once on the terraces a transformation would take place! He would harangue the members of the opposing team for the entire 90 minutes (and sometimes the home team if he felt that they were not offering enough endeavour) and use profanities that my Dad had been hitherto unaware of! Arthur would always apologise for his untoward behaviour once the game was over but I know that my Dad was secretly thrilled to be a party to Arthur’s dearth of decorum. I wonder if Bert was ever in earshot of Arthur’s battery of abuse?!!!
Bert’s wages when he first started at Rangers were £10 for a loss, £12 for a draw and £14 for a win- the average wage was £5 per week then but, as Mary pointed out, Bert and the rest of the team always had to look smart and, therefore, a large amount of his wages went on being “suited and booted”! Also during the summer months [close season] they were paid considerably less and were forced to take on casual work - in Bert’s case, he worked with one of his brothers, who was a builder. For the ten years that Bert was a Rangers player, the family lived in Shirland Road, Paddington, amongst the people who were paying to see him play. They enjoyed some plaudits, however, in that they were the first family in the street to have a car and later a television.
Bert certainly had to suffer for his football - a curious fact is that players were made to wear a boot two sizes smaller than their actual shoe size so that the boot would fit like a glove. Toenails would drop off and his feet would be blistered and sore so, naturally, he hated getting new boots. The occupational hazard of injuries sustained was not confined to lost toenails!!! The bustling Bert was a stoic and sturdy centre-forward who would never shirk from the physicality of the game, breaking both his jaw and cheekbone and having sixteen hairline fractures of bones in his legs; and yet, he was never heard to complain, he just accepted the injuries as an intrinsic element of the game.
Indeed Mary, his wife, stated that she was surprised that Bert wasn’t more seriously injured because of how dauntless he was. My Dad always told me how brave Bert was, taking on all-comers in his quest for the ball. Indeed, as a contemporary of my Dad has commented: “He was never worried about getting knocked off the ball and seemed to shrug off the tough tackles easily. Left foot, right foot and head all came into play for this old-school artisan. Two important things to remember here are that in those days a hefty shoulder charge against an opposition player was perfectly acceptable – provided of course that he was in possession of the ball – and on more than one occasion a goalkeeper was legitimately charged into the net whilst still holding the ball. The other point worth making is that virtually all teams played a standard 2-3-5 formation in those days (and some feel that the systems in place today are by no means an improvement on that formation) and a centre forward was not expected to move too far back.” That is something that could never be directed at Bert Addinall- some have suggested that he was something of a “goal hanger”, who always managed to get himself in the right place at the right time. Perhaps he was, but it certainly reaped dividends in his impressive goalscoring tally. He had a role to play which he fearlessly fulfilled. Indeed, on the day of the game in which he broke his cheekbone, Bert had arranged to meet up with Mary at a dance after the game. She got there at the arranged time, swaying to the music as she awaited Bert’s arrival. She became increasingly worried as the evening wore on and Bert still hadn’t arrived. When Bert eventually appeared his cheekbone was smashed in and his face was a in a terrible state: he had been taken to hospital; the victim of an errant elbow to the face, but Bert, being the imperturbable type that he was, still turned up to the dance, albeit a trifle late! Before the kick-off of the game against Fulham in 1946, the Fulham defender Frankie Neary ,a player of fearsome fizzog and fully-fledged infamy approached Bert and muttered menacingly in his ear “How do you want it?” and Bert replied “Anyway you like it!!!” Neary proceeded to kick the life out of Bert but Bert showed no quarter and certainly no fear, reciprocating in kind and afterwards Neary said “You are the only one who’s ever stood up to me!!!” Bert laughed and said, “Yeah, I know, and look what you’ve done to me!” A few weeks later, Neary walked in to Loftus Road and said, “Hi Bert, I’m playing today!” and Bert said “Oh no, not you again!” This time Neary laughed and said “Don’t worry; I’m on your side now!” He’d joined Rangers and they became good mates. Mary commented, too, on the strong sense of camaraderie that existed amongst the team; how they all got on really well together.
Bert was, indeed, a gregarious man. In those days, the team would travel to away matches on the train with the supporters and, on the way back, he would always have a drink and a chat with the fans. In fact, Bert, along with Reg Allen (Rangers goalkeeper at the time) was seen as a bit of a pin-up boy amongst the female contingent of Rangers fans and, according to Mary, his gregariousness could sometimes unintentionally be his undoing!!! At a Supporters Club Dance in the early 50s Mary said that she and Bert had arrived at the Dance only for one of Bert’s ardent admirers to immediately monopolise Bert’s attention, even standing in between man and wife!!! Mary tolerated this for a while but soon her patience ran out and she managed to extricate her husband from the clutches of that diehard devotee and said to her: “Look, I don’t often get the chance to spend the evening with my husband without our children [they had four by then] so would you do me a favour and bugger off?!! When I’m not here, you can have him all to yourself!” Bert would get attention from all quarters: inmates of Wormwood Scrubs would write to him and he would always write back to them. By the same token, he was good friends with many members of the footballing elite.
Although on the outbreak of war the football league had been suspended (along with all other entertainment establishments) and most football competitions were abandoned, regional leagues were later set up instead. War was declared on the 3rd September 1939 and on the 14th September 1939 the government gave permission for clubs to play friendlies. In the interests of safety, the number of spectators was limited to 8000, but this was later revised to 15,000. The government imposed a 50 mile travelling limit and the football league divided all clubs into 7 regional areas where games would take place. The Luftwaffe’s first bombing raid on London was the 10th July 1940. During the Battle of Britain clubs continued to play football. On the 19th September 1940, soon after the beginning of the Blitz, the F.A. relaxed their ban on Sunday football to provide recreation for war workers. Churchill took the view that the continuation of football was good for the morale of the nation. It would all have been on a very loosely structured ad hoc basis, players turning out for various teams depending on who was available at any given time during the war. As many footballers, like Bert, had been conscripted to fight in the war, teams were depleted and fielded “Guest” players instead: Crystal Palace, for example, fielded 186 different players during 7 wartime seasons.
The British Army had invited some of the best footballers to become Physical Training Instructors at Aldershot Camp. Bert was one of those who accepted and he was in excellent company: amongst his comrades were Joe Mercer, Matt Busby, Tommy Lawton and Billy Wright. Billy Wright was a top First Division star with Wolves and a future Wolves and England Captain. Bert was a lower division, London-based player and, under normal sporting circumstances, they might never have met but, due to the extraordinary intervention of wartime , their paths crossed on both the wartime football circuit and at the training camp in Aldershot; a friendship was forged which was to be an enduring one. Billy referred to Bert as “his Cockney Mate” or as Bert might have termed it “his Paddington Pal” and they shared a mutual respect and regard for one another. Just as Bert was adored by his acolytes amongst the Rangers crowd, Billy was a glamorous figure, too - going on to marry Joy, one of The Beverley Sisters, and they were, indeed, the progenitors of the Beckhams and their ilk today.
Although Bert signed for Rangers in 1943 he was then posted to Egypt so that he never actually played for QPR until April 1945, rejoining the club from the Army on a permanent basis at the end of his spell abroad, whereupon he soon made up for lost time by scoring 13 goals in 16 wartime appearances. He signed official forms for Rangers in the 1946 close season and made his post-war official league debut for Rangers versus Bournemouth in a 3-0 victory in September 1946. He broke into the first team regularly during the four seasons that Rangers spent in the Second Division. He was leading scorer on a number of occasions and an archetypal centre forward of the time, always committed to goalscoring; some have termed him aggressive but that was merely the manifestation of the solidity of his style and stature. He was actually a quiet man who was not given to unduly raising his voice, he would say his piece if it was required but no more and would never be heard to complain to the referee about unfair or harsh treatment. His philosophy was that it was an inherent part of the game; not for him the label “Prima Donna”. He would have had no comprehension of such a term.
Bert spent a long and happy ten years playing for Rangers, in which he established himself as a firm favourite with the fans: he was my Dad’s idol and the kind of footballer my Dad aspired to be: intrepid and indomitable but ever the gentleman. He was transferred to Brighton and Hove Albion in 1953 but the sea air didn’t seem to agree with him (perhaps he needed to partake of the polluted air of Paddington once more) and he left there after one season to play for Crystal Palace, where he played 12 games before he ended his league career. He finished his footballing days with Kent League side Snowdon Colliery and enjoyed two seasons with them setting up a new scoring record for the club, netting nearly 100 goals in one season. So his shooting boots were put to good use right through to his retirement from football in 1956. Bert then became the landlord of a pub in Shoreham in what was a typical post-football move. Like many other ex-players, he invested in a small business with the little money he had eked out of the game. Bert’s innate geniality, too, would have made this an obvious proposition for him – however, it transpired that the demands of the Pub trade excessively impinged on the family life of a couple with young children and Bert, after a couple of years, decided to give it up and return to his native homeland: London.
Bert then embarked on a career as a London Cab Driver, having trained under the auspices of a British Legion scheme, but his association with Rangers did not end with that ten-year playing spell: he continued to be ever-present at home games but had swapped his Rangers shirt to stand on the Loftus Road end as a spectator, paying his two shillings entrance fee along with thousands of others to whom he had been a hero. In fact, Bert often got waylaid at Rangers by his fellow fans, asking him his thoughts on the current team and of the state of football in general. Who would have thought that one of the most popular footballers ever to wear the number 9 shirt would watch his team from the terraces? However, that is what he always insisted on after he left the club in 1953. His taxi could be seen parked in close proximity to the ground prior to every home game. He came from the people and remained a man of the masses saying in a newspaper interview at the time [1956], “There is no club quite like Queens Park Rangers” and that “I have always loved the game and I am grateful for all the friends I have made.” Bert remained a keen sportsman, coaching local children in his spare time, right up into his senior years. Not for him a relaxing retirement! In 2001, Rangers (well, the match ball sponsors, Townend’s ) finally saw fit to pay tribute to one of their most unsung ambassadors at the home game against Tranmere Rovers: a presentation of the match ball was made to Bert on the pitch prior to the game by Richard Langley and Danny Murphy, two members of the current Rangers team. Bert was so affected by this that he cried- the quiet, unassuming man who had remained forever Rangers. Mary told me that, after the game, the family and friends were enjoying the hospitality of Rangers in their box when, suddenly, the door opened and all heads turned, including Marys’, and who did she see but the fervent fan from fifty years before!!!! Mary’s daughter Maureen said “That’s not the one who was always mad about Dad is it???” and Mary replied “Yes it is, tell me about it!” In she smouldered, the Shepherds Bush siren. Bert was sitting facing the pitch, so was still unaware of her presence, but not for long! She grabbed Bert and started kissing him passionately, smothering him with a smooch and Bert, once he’d redeemed his equilibrium, said: “Oh… Oh, ‘ello Daff.” ‘Mary’s daughters were in hysterics and one of them said jokingly, “Look at her falling all over Dad! Go and smack her one mum!!!!” Mary replied, “No, let him enjoy it while he can, she’s waited long enough!!! ” and that she was one of his supporters after all! Mary said she couldn’t resist saying to Bert, “Are you enjoying yourself, Bert?” and he said “Yeah” but glowered at her- a very reluctant romeo!!!! In fact, Bert really did not invite such attention, it was enough for him that his club had afforded him such approbation, something that he richly deserved. He was a consummate athlete and remained a fit and active man until he was cruelly struck down with diabetes, the corollary of this was that he would have a foot amputated, which understandably rendered him frustrated that such a brutal misfortune had befallen him. Mary told me the story of how she had been at Bert’s beck and call for hours one particular day and was very tired, but Bert’s requests were relentless, and she begged him to give her a rest and go to sleep. He became quite irate and started banging on the floor of his bedroom to her (sitting downstairs) with his walking stick. She became quite irate too and shouted at him, “If you don’t stop that, I’ll break that stick in half!!!” To which he replied, “Not before I’ve hit you with it!” And, with that, they began trying to wrestle the stick from one another, only to both burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation and what a pair of silly old sods they both were! Mary also told me that Bert, at a later stage in his illness, had gone into a diabetic coma and she had called an ambulance. The medics were trying without success to bring him round and asked Mary what they could say to him to bring him out of it? Mary, knowing what a strong, spirited man he was, told them to ask him if he wanted to go to hospital? Which they did and his eyes flickered and then opened and he murmured “Piss Off!!” So the medics treated him there and then, and there was no need for him to go to hospital after all.
A trooper till the end, Bert Addinall: a staunch servant and supporter of Rangers, truly possessed of a blue and white hooped heart, the like of which we may never see again in the professional game.
JOANNE CONNOLLY
*This article is dedicated to the memory of two extraordinary working class men:
Albert William “Bert” Addinall, January 30th 1921- 2nd May 2005
Edward Joseph “Ted” Connolly, May 3rd 1931 - November 27th 2010
I would also like to extend my heartfelt thanks to Bert’s remarkable widow, Mary Addinall, for all her assistance and anecdotes, and without whom this article would have not been possible.
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