Original subtitles

Kick it, Barnstoneworth!

Get it away, Barnstoneworth!

Barnstoneworth!

Yes, Mum.

Pop down Crighton's and get us some lard, will you, for tomorrow?

I'm learning the Yorkshire Premier League Cup Team of 1922, Mum.

Look, don't argue.

- Do as I say. - But, Mum...

What do you want your Sunday lunch cooked in? Tea?

But Dad said he was going to test me.

Hagerty F, Hagerty R, Thompkins, Noble, Carrick, Robson,

Crapper, Dewhurst, Mclntyre, Treadmore and Davitt.

Davitt scored twice in t'last three minutes, and Frank Hagerty saved a penalty.

Hello, Dad.

Eight-one.

Eight bloody one!

Eight-one to Brighouse!

They're a team of old-age pensioners!

The centre forward wears glasses.

During the match!

Eight goals!

Four of them from back passes to the goalkeeper! Oh!

They were the worst.

- I'm sorry, love.

Gordon, your tea's ready, love.

Yorkshire Premier League, 1922.

Hagerty F, Hagerty R, Thompkins, Noble, Carrick, Robson,

Crapper, Dewhurst, Mclntyre, Treadmore and Davitt.

Played 19. Won none, drawn none,

one cancelled owing to bereavement, lost 18.

Reserve team.

Yorkshire Premier League, 1922.

Alton, Roberts, Carter, Sydney K, Tapwell,

Mason, Manningham, Bailey, Boswell, Dobkins, O'Grady.

Goals for, 6. Goals against, 81.

Junior team, Yorkshire Premier League, 1922.

Bunn, Wackett, Buzzard, Stubble, Boot, Bowman, Baxter...

Oh, shut up!

I'm going out.

- No dripping? - No.

- Er, Gordon... - Yes?

Gordon, I've been meaning to tell you.

I'm going to have a baby.

Oh. Right.

Don't wait up for me.

Where are you going?

Somewhere to cheer meself up.

- Cyril. - Gordon.

Brown, please, Cyril.

John.

Ta.

I know how you feel, Gordon.

The useless, useless, bastards!

Coming to training on Tuesday night, Gordon?

Yeah.

Right-ho! Come over here, lads.

- Right. Well done, lads.

I want to talk about tactics for Saturday.

He's got my shorts on.

- What? - Roger Hetfield's got my shorts on.

Now then...

- Can I go at half past six? - Yes! Now, then...

Saturday, as you all know, is cup tie day.

- And it's our chance to show...

- What's the matter?

He got me shorts on and he won't give me back!

They were on top of my bag in t'changing room.

They were on me peg!

- Lord, please. - They were never on his peg.

I share a peg with him and I never saw them.

You're a bloody liar, you are, Dunston.

Don't you call me names, you pansy!

- They come out of my bag! - They bloody didn't!

Stop it!

What the hell do you think you're doing? Who the hell do you think you are?

I didn't come here on a free transfer from Walsall

to stand and watch a bunch of morons arguing about shorts!

I came here... to create a football team.

A hard, ruthless, tough, fighting unit.

I don't care if your bloody shorts are on or off

as long as you can two a quick one-two round an overlapping half-back.

You can wear the sodding things over your head for all I care,

if you can drop a long ball right at the centre forward's feet.

You can... You can run the length of this pitch, stark bollock-naked

if you can poke one in the corner of the net at the end of it.

Shorts don't matter!

Do you hear? Shorts have nothing to do with it.

I don't care if they're blue serge shorts or white cotton shorts,

or green flannel shorts, or sky-blue shorts

with elastic supporting hand-stitched Italian waistbands!

I don't care if they're long shorts or short shorts, or three-quarter length shorts,

or initialled shorts, or monogrammed shorts,

or Billy Meredith signed shorts.

Or shorts made in Ireland.

Or shorts made in Austria, or shorts made in Timbuk-bloody-tu

with pink stars on that light up at night.

It's not important.

Do you hear?

They're nothing to do with bloody football.

The only thing that matters

is what's inside them.

The machine you've got pounding away in there,

up and down, up and down for 90 minutes.

You can wear all the bloody shorts you want.

You can wear 15 woolly pairs on top of one another,

it won't make a hap'orth of difference

unless that punching, pounding pulsating machine

can't keep running, and tackling and fighting.

There! That's what's important! Look at that!

Not these!

Chuck 'em away. Throw 'em away!

Goodbye, shorts! Hello, football!

Indecent exposure in a bakery. He'll probably get three years.

That's only the manager. Centre forward's off with boils,

two half-backs are going to a wedding, and goalkeeper's got a cold sore.

- Gordon. - Chairman's called an emergency meeting.

Oi, Dad, when were Barnstoneworth made full members of t'Yorks Premier League?

August 1907, Division 2. He'll sort the whole thing out.

Gordon, love.

I'm going to have a baby.

About bloody time, that's all I can say.

You what, love?

I'd say it's about bloody time Chairman put his nose around the door

and took an interest in the club. Don't wait up for me, love.

- Cyril. - Gordon.

What's up tonight, you think, then?

- I think we're gonna buy Arsenal's manager. - Oh, aye? Arsenal's a team and all.

- How's Vera? - Not bad.

Fighting's stopped.

- Gentlemen, please! Gentlemen!

Gentlemen, fellow supporters.

I'm glad to see so many of you here tonight.

Now, the last few years have not been kind to Barnstoneworth United.

One look at the results board will tell you.

This continued lack of success and the consequent damage

to the financial situation of the club,

coupled with the pending court proceedings against our manager, Mr Dainty,

has impressed upon your board of directors the need for urgent action.

- About time!

We have therefore decided, as from Tuesday next week,

to sell Barnstoneworth United Football Club,

its players, grounds and premises

to the Arthur Foggen Scrap Corporation for redevelopment.

They have assured us that the name of Barnstoneworth United Football Club

will not be forgotten, and have kindly consented

to name one of their steel scrap crushing mills after the club.

Saturday's cup tie against Denley Moor Academicals

will therefore be the last game at the Sewage Works Ground.

Believe me, we have not taken such a decision...

Barnstoneworth! Barnstoneworth! Barnstoneworth!

Barnstoneworth! Barnstoneworth!

Barnstoneworth! Barnstoneworth! Barnstoneworth! Barnstoneworth...

"Your supper is in the oven. P.S. I am going to have a baby."

- Foggen. - Oh, uh...

- Could I have a word with you for a minute? - Is it about scrap?

- It's about the football club. - Well, then it's about scrap. Come in.

- My wife. - Good evening.

- How do you do? - That just arrived today.

Fourteen bogeys from the Scottish Railway Company. That's lovely scrap metal.

Worth 15,000 in the open market. I'll get 20 for it.

- Sit down. - Oh, thank you.

- Drink? - Uh, no. No, thank you.

I love scrap!

I've always loved scrap.

Ever since I could walk,

I've always wanted to be deeply involved with it.

Now I've got 12 heaps in four major cities. And why?

Because there's only one thing I love better than scrap.

And that's success.

Well, what can I do for you, Mr...

Uh, Ottershaw. Gordon Ottershaw.

- I, uh... - Come on, lad.

I've been blunt with you. Be blunt with me.

Well, I want Barnstoneworth United to stay as a football club.

"I want." I like the sound of that.

Why do you want Barnstoneworth United to stay a football club?

- Well, because...that's what it is. - Wrong.

Barnstoneworth United hasn't been a football club for years.

It's been a rest home for the physically incompetent.

I could've had cows on that pitch for the last three years.

They'd have paid for themselves.

And scored more goals.

Well, we're just going through a... bad...patch.

Bad patch! You don't know what you're talking about.

Do you know when they last won a game at the Sewage Works Ground?

- I'll tell you. - October 7th, 1931. Two-nil against Pudsey.

- Right. - Hagerty F, Ferris, Noble, Codran,

Crapper, Davison, Sullivan, O'Grady, Kemball, Hacker and Davitt.

Davitt scored twice. Once in 21st minute, once in 28th minute.

- Kenny Davitt... - Neville Davitt.

Ah, yes. Neville Davitt.

He was a player. He were bald, weren't he?

- Aye. - Aye, he had a head like stainless steel.

The ball came off it like a.22 rifle bullet.

He once scored with the back of his head from 28 yards

against Barnsley Reserves in 1922.

Aye, that were a night. It were cup, weren't it?

Yorkshire Cup. Fourth round replay. Hagerty R, Hagerty J,

- Thompkins, Noble, Carrick. - Carrick! He were a player too.

Robson, Crapper, Dewhurst, Mclntyre, Treadmore and Davitt.

Three-all, five-three after extra time.

Davitt scored twice in the last three minutes, and Frank Hagerty saved a penalty.

Aye, that were a night!

God, there must have been 10,000 people down there.

10,118. They had coaches over from Leeds.

- Coaches from Leeds.

Still, then's then, and now's now.

Time is the general manager on our board, Mr Ottershaw,

and it goes marching on relentlessly, waiting for no man,

hand in hand with the scrap merchants of this land.

I wonder what on earth became of Neville Davitt.

- He's running a butcher shop in Bradley. - Old Baldy, running a butcher shop!

Ken Carrick works in a glue factory in Todmorden.

What a bloody waste.

A glue factory for a man who can crack a goalpost in two from a halfway line.

He works in same shed as Harry Treadmore.

Harry Treadmore. By crikey, they were a team in those days.

They can be, again, Mr Foggen, if you just give 'em a chance.

What's it got to do with you?

Well, just a supporter.

Ha-ha! I didn't think there were any of them left.

Well, I keep hoping somebody might come along, you know?

- Another Neville Davitt, Kenny Carrick. - You're getting soft again, Mr Ottershaw.

Them days have gone and they won't come back.

If they did, people like me would be out of business.

Now, if you don't mind,

I've got half a hundredweight of steel filings to sort out before morning.

Well, been nice talking to you.

- Well, Saturday'll be the last match, then? - Yeah.

There's lots of good games over in Leeds. Why don't you get a season ticket?

Oh, aye, well, I...

I'll probably give up football for a bit.

- Well, good night, then. - Good night.

- Ottershaw. - Yes?

Have you ever thought about a job in scrap?

They can win.

- I know they can. - Let's hear it again.

Atthorpe, Biggs, Gutterson, Lyle...

No! Gladstone, Rosebery, Salisbury, Balfour, Campbell-Bannerman...

- Froggatt? - No! Asquith!

Asquith! Asquith! Asquith!

Gordon, did you hear that?

Now, that boy has got history school certificate today,

and he still gets his British prime ministers

muddled up with Barnstoneworth Reserves for 1914.

Now, you've got to stop filling his head with football.

It's not healthy and it's no bloody use.

Well, he's not gonna be prime minister.

Not gonna be a footballer, is he?

He may be...yet.

You know he can't kick a ball straight. He hates it.

And how would you like to be called Barnstoneworth?

He's got another name.

United!

What sort of name is that?

I wish you'd let him be what he wants, Gordon.

Hagerty F, Hagerty R, Thompkins, Noble, Carrick, Davitt. It doesn't matter.

When will you realise, Gordon, that it doesn't matter

who the hell played for Barnstoneworth bloody United in 1922?

- But what is important, Gordon... - Yeah.

- ...is that I am going to... - Yes!

- Oh, yes! - Going to...

- Where are you going? - Bradley.

- Bradley? What for? - Shopping!

Gordon. Gordon?

Gordon. Gordon! Before you go anywhere, we must talk!

Don't wait up for me, love!

I'm going to have a baby!

- Mr Davitt? - Aye.

Neville Davitt? My name's Ottershaw. Gordon Ottershaw.

- Er, I'm from Barnstoneworth. - Oh, aye?

Oh, yeah, I used to be a great fan of yours when you played for United.

- I remember your, uh... - Yes?

Well, you know... er, before you had...

- Well, when you still had... - Fastest legs in West Yorkshire?

Yes, yes. And, er...

You know, all those goals you scored from the, er...

- Penalty spot? - Yes.

But, you know, the... the headers.

No. Never scored with me head. Couldn't afford to with a head of hair like this.

I've always been proud of me hair. Always will be.

Bloody embarrassing this is going to be.

We should have called the whole match off.

Half the team's sick or missing.

Why the hell we couldn't...

Why, Mr Foggen!

I haven't seen you down here for a year or two.

Come to look around the premises, eh?

Make a lovely scrap heap, this.

No, I've come to see Barnstoneworth win a match.

I shouldn't hang around getting cold if I were you, Mr Foggen.

Your Mr Ottershaw told me they'd win.

Ottershaw! Now, don't you go worrying about him, Mr Foggen.

He's enthusiastic. I like enthusiasm.

Obsessed, I'd call it.

It's a form of madness, you know?

Wearing your scarf in bed,

calling your kid Barnstoneworth.

I'd like to see them win again.

I'd like to see them turn up.

That's Denley Moor. They got Olthwaite at number eight.

Aye, aye. The bank robber.

It was never proved.

Come on, Denley! Come on, Denley!

Oh, come on, Barnstoneworth. Where are you?

It's three o'clock.

Who the hell's that?

That's our manager.

- What the hell's going on? - Just the four of them turned up,

and only three of them have got shorts.

- I don't believe you. - Don't worry, I can play.

I can show them a thing or two.

I'm sure you could, Mr Dainty, but that's not what they came to see.

- What a bloody way to go.

Sorry we're late.

- Right, lads. - Right, come on, lads.

- Hold on.

Come on, Davitt. Come on.

Good old Barnestoneworth! Hooray!

Barnstoneworth! Barnstoneworth! Barnstoneworth!

Eight-one! Eight-bloody-one!

Gordon? Are you all right, Gordon?

Gordon? Gordon? Gordon...