Today we learn of the passing of arguably our best goalkeeper Gordon Banks. However of deeper resonance to me and for shaping my love of this beautiful game I mourn the death of Fred Pickering who passed away yesterday.
For two glorious years he was the centre forward for Birmingham City – in 1967 and 1968. 1967 was the year I started watching football. In that year and the following year he was a free scorer in a team that regularly scored 5 or 6 goals in a home game yet were dire away from home. 1968 was the magical year of a glorious FA Cup run. in the 5th round we drew away at Arsenal. The replay at St.Andrews was on a blustery Tuesday night, my Dad took me to the game but we were locked out as a crowd of 55,000 watched us topple Arsenal courtesy of a brace from Barry Bridges, the winner being an overhead kit. Next up the quarter final against Chelsea. This time I had a ticket. I remember the euphoria when Fred Pickering stooped the head the only goal of the game in the 64th minute.
We were in the semi final at Villa Park against our near neighbours. I was standing at the front of a packed Holte End a skinny 11 year old trying my best to avoid getting crushed. That day Birmingham were in their away kit – all red at the time. Fred Pickering seemingly played the Baggies on his own. He hit the bar, he hit the post and their keeper Osborne made several superb saves from him. Sadly we lost 2-0 and I left the ground in tears but proud of the performance of my team and Fred in particular. By the end of the season Fred had moved on and there were rumours that he had a bust up with Jimmy Greenhof as one of them was allegedly knocking of the others missus.
He gave me some great memories and as much as I fondly remember Gordon Banks too it is Fred who will stay with me for that fabulous but sad day at Villa park.
RIP Fred Pickering
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Not to deny the rightfully lauded Gordon Banks the tributes he will receive but I think it’s always these kind of “lower down the ladder” type of players like Fred Pickering who make a deeper impression on supporters. We see them every week, we know about their injuries, (we might even have seen the tackle or foul that got said injury and winced on their behalf) we know about their lives and look to them to deliver our hopes and dreams. It’s about Managers too. I’ve hardly been to any West Ham games since 1993 (I’m a non league fan now, as written about elsewhere) but as a boyhood Hammers fan I found myself surprisingly sad when John Lyall died at only 66 years of age.
For a moment there I thought the OP was about the little dog that “found” the cup…
Wasnt he called pickles?
My old man was a Villa fan and always used to taunt me with the fact that Vikka had lost the cup more times than Birninghan had won it.
I’m too young to have seen Pickering play, but my Dad would often sing the terrace song which substituted “The Mighty Quinn” with “Fred Pickering” , Come on without, come within etc.
Prior to your Pickering experience, Fred was of course an Everton hero.
Controversially left out of the 1966 FA Cup Final team, his replacement Mike Trebilcock (there is a hard ‘ck’ at the end of that surname, but the mealy-mouthed Kenneth Wolstenholme decided to rename him as ‘Trebilco’) vindicated Harry Catterick’s decision with two goals that cancelled Sheffield Wednesday’s two goal lead.
The relationship was irreparably broken and Fred left us.
‘ave an 👍 Stevie boy, I remember Freddie, a fine footballer. RIP.