No Boundaries Read Online Free Page B

his debut and Gary Pallister arrive and a string of great playerslike Paul Ince and the incomparable Roy Keane help put the club on the right track. Meanwhile, the youth set-up was discovering talents like David Beckham, Paul Scholes and the Neville brothers, Gary and Phil, who I played cricket against at Greenmount CC.
    But for me the most exciting entrance – it was so much more than a mere arrival – I’ve witnessed while watching United was the day a Frenchman strutted on to the Old Trafford stage, his collar turned up, his chest stuck out as though he owned the place. Eric Cantona had just won the championship with Leeds United and Fergie had snapped him up for a bargain million quid. His presence seemed to instil confidence and self-belief in all the others. He was the catalyst for the breathtaking run of success that followed. He made a great club a great team and so, when Lorraine and I bought a proud-looking Doberman in 1999, he had to have a red collar and was named Eric.
    Dad and I hardly ever had the same opportunity to enjoy watching first-class cricket together because of our playing commitments. I can only remember going to see one Lancashire county match before I joined the ground staff and I only watched one Test match as a boy. That was at Old Trafford in 1980. Sonny Ramadhin got us a pair of tickets in the VIP section for England against the West Indies and I turned up clutching my sandwiches in my kung-fu bag. Those were the days of the great West Indian pacemen and I recall Michael Holding taking a run up that seemed to start about two rows in front of where I was sitting. The Windies also had some very talented batsmen, including Clive Lloyd and Viv Richards. England had a few good players too, like Mike Gatting, Geoffrey Boycott and Ian Botham, but the star of the show was a little guy named Malcolm Marshall, who wasquite new on the scene. He was only about 5ft 9in – tiny compared to his fellow quickies – but he steamed in, knocked over three quick wickets and caused an England collapse. I was massively impressed. Little did I realise that about 12 years later I would play against him. I only faced one ball, but at least I can say I batted against arguably the greatest fast bowler the world has ever seen.
    The first West Indian paceman I ever faced was much more hostile. Franklin Stevenson came over to play for Greenmount in the Bolton League and he relished the uncovered wickets that at times made him almost unplayable. I was already in the Heaton first team and, at the age of 14, found myself watching this giant Barbadian charging towards me. Franklin was noted for his clever use of the slower ball, but I never saw any evidence of it that day. Fourteen or not, I was merely an obstacle to be removed and he tried to bounce the shit out of me from the first ball. I ducked and weaved and let a few fizz past my head. Several more whacked into my ribs and chest, but somehow I survived and gradually found a way of getting bat on ball and went on to score a half-century. We lost the game but such was the spirit at Heaton that the lads bought me a pint of bitter shandy to celebrate my achievement. It was a great feeling to be one of the boys when the rest of the boys were men, although, when I took my shirt off to go to bed that night, my body was blotched purple with bruises.
    That reaction was fairly typical of Heaton. They had no money to pay amateurs and only a little for overseas professionals. Former Barbados and Kent all-rounder Hartley Alleyne was probably the biggest name they signed, but he’d already been around the wealthier local clubs before joining Heaton. I remember playing against him in theHuddersfield League. But if Heaton were seldom among the trophies, they enjoyed their cricket and were genuinely pleased to celebrate a young player’s success. They always made youngsters feel welcome and on a Friday night there could be more than a hundred kids playing cricket beneath my bedroom