Day My Dream Ended , livre ebook

THE DAY MY DREAM ENDED
The Autobiography of Jimmy Holmes
By
Jimmy Holmes
and
Mike Malyon
Forewords by Glenn Hoddle and Johnny Giles




First published as an eBook in 2016 by
Apex Publishing Ltd
12A St. John’s Road, Clacton on Sea
Essex, CO15 4BP, United Kingdom
www.apexpublishing.co.uk
Please email any queries to Chris Cowlin
mail@apexpublishing.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited 2016
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2016 Jimmy Holmes and Mike Malyon
The authors have asserted their moral rights.
Editor: Kim Kimber
Production manager: Chris Cowlin
Cover design: Hannah Blamires
Cover Photo: George Herringshaw: www.sporting-heroes.net
Publisher’s Note: The views and opinions expressed in this publication are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of Apex Publishing Ltd
The photos in this book are from Jimmy Holmes’ private collection
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that no part of this book is to be reproduced, in any shape or form. Or by way of trade, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser, without prior permission of the copyright holder.



Foreword (1)
By Glenn Hoddle
Jimmy Holmes has been a good friend of mine for many years, from when he arrived at Tottenham from Coventry in 1977. He came in at left back and was a key member of the team, with his sweet left foot and delicate way of passing the ball.
Along with John Gorman, we used to travel together to the training ground and to White Hart Lane on match days. It was supposed to be a car sharing idea but I somehow always seemed to be the driver - mainly because the other two were too tight to use their own petrol! The three of us also shared a room on a pre-season trip to Holland and I can remember us playing a highly competitive game of keepy-uppy with a bar of soap in the hotel bedroom.
Jimmy was very popular with all the Spurs players and fans. His character and dry sense of humour always shone through and he enjoyed winding up his teammates, without ever taking it too far.
It was dreadful when he broke his leg while playing for Ireland. Me and the lads went to see him in hospital a few times and everyone at Tottenham was upset about what had happened. It was the sort of injury every pro footballer dreads. In those days a broken leg was more serious than it is now but Jimmy’s injury was horrendous and it was such a shame for him, because we were in the process of building a very good side at the time, with the likes of Ossie Ardiles, Ricky Villa, Steve Perryman, Steve Archibald and Garth Crooks. Sadly, the seriousness of his injury meant that Jimmy was never able to regain his first team place. We all felt for him because he was such a likeable player.
The gesture by the Irish FA to give Jimmy a testimonial was rightfully deserved. It says a lot for the way Jimmy was regarded in the game that he was given this honour. I was only too pleased to join other friends and fellow players in doing what we could to help support, what turned out to be, a very successful event.
Jimmy is one of the nicest guys you could wish to meet and I would like to wish him all the very best with this book and for the future.



Foreword (2)
By Johnny Giles
Jimmy Holmes was an excellent footballer with a terrific left foot. I don’t know what he would be worth in today’s transfer market but I would rate him on a par with, if not better than, any of the current Premier League left backs. But Jimmy loved the game and it was never a financial thing with him.
As a fellow Dublin lad, I always got on very well with Jimmy. He was spotted playing for one of the top youth sides in the city by legendary scout Bunny Fulham, who recommended him to Coventry manager Noel Cantwell. When Jimmy got into the Irish national team the other players gave him the nickname Bunny.
Whenever he played - with the Republic, Coventry or Spurs - Jimmy always gave a top class performance. He used the ball well and was great at picking out teammates. After being very unlucky to suffer such a bad injury while representing Ireland, Jimmy showed great character to come back and I was more than pleased when he accepted an offer to play for me in Vancouver.
Jimmy is an all-round good guy with a smashing sense of humour. It has been a privilege to know him, to play alongside him and to manage him at club and international level.
I am delighted to have played a part in Jimmy’s football career and I wish him all the best for the future.



Prologue
As I lunged for the ball, I felt a crunch and knew straightaway that I had been badly injured. What I did not realise, though, was how that one 50-50 tackle - made while representing the Republic of Ireland in a European Championship match in Bulgaria - would signal the end of my career as a First Division footballer.
It meant that at the age of 25, the dream had been shattered. What followed was years of heartache, disappointment and struggle, trying to make a living as best I could from the game I loved, without ever again reaching the heights. I went from turning out every week in the best league in the world and being a regular for my country - after setting a record as the Republic’s youngest ever senior international - to plying my trade at the lower levels and eventually hanging up my boots to become a policeman.
It was a journey that had started as a youngster on the streets of a Dublin suburb, practising with a tennis ball and kicking around with a bunch of mates. Spotted playing for the leading youth club team in the district and invited to go to Manchester United by the great Matt Busby, I was instead persuaded by one of my Irish heroes, Noel Cantwell, to sign for Coventry City. As a teenager, I achieved national recognition and eventually made a £120,000 move to Tottenham Hotspur, to become a member of a star-studded side.
The life of a professional footballer, even back in the pre-Premiership 1970s, was an exciting, glamorous enjoyable one. But, as I found out on that black May day towards the end of the decade, it could also suddenly turn sour.



Early Days in the Liberties
I was born on 11 November, 1953, at home in Hanbury Lane, just off Meath Street on the south side of Dublin. It was a good honest working class area, known as The Liberties. While I was still a toddler, we moved a short distance to no. 2 Meath Square, a mid-terraced bungalow, with one bedroom, a lounge and a kitchen which was split into a small dining area. The toilet was out in the back yard, next to the coal house.
My parents, Pat and Lily, both came from large families. Dad was the eldest of six brothers and my ma was one of 12 children. She had five sisters - Josie, Ellen, Annie, Phyliss and Maureen. There were also six brothers - Malachy, who worked at the Guinness plant, Joe, who was on the cattle market, Larry, a printer, Seamus and Sean, who had factory jobs, and Noel, who was a tailor. My mum’s parents were James Murray and his wife Ellen.
Dad’s brothers were Michael, the ‘sensible one’ who was a foreman at Fiat in Dublin and the only one in the family to own a car; Seamus, who I did not know too well but who always had a smile on his face; and three others who were absolute characters. There was Gaybo, considered the best darts player in Dublin and a man who you could sit all day with over a pint and listen to his stories; Joe, a real smoothie and renowned pub singer; and Tony, the joker of the pack, who was also a fitness fanatic and ran marathons for charity. There were also two sisters, Lily and Carmel, who ran the Crampton Buildings on the ‘Quays’.
In our family there was just me and my brother, Paul, who was five years older. We had to sleep on a brown leather settee in the lounge. It was covered in sheets and we had no blankets so had a big old army coat to cover us. Our parents’ bedroom was tiny and could only just about fit in their bed and a wardrobe. But they both worked hard and we were a happy family. Dad had a job with the corporation until he retired while Ma was employed as a supervisor at a wool factory called Ganleys.
Because our home was small, a lot of the time me and Paul went to stay with my grandparents on my ma’s side, who lived at Oliver Bond flats in Dublin. As a lot of our friends also lived at the flats, we loved going there. Sometimes, I shared a bed with Grandad, which meant being pinned up against the wall and having to contend with his loud snoring. Paul and my uncles Noel and Sean slept in the bed next to ours, so that meant five of us sleeping in one room. Noel and Sean were always having a go at each other. But Noel was the youngest of the Murray family, so was like an elder brother to me and Paul and we always looked up to him.
It was a ritual on Sunday mornings for everyone to attend Mass and I would be marched along by Ma to John’s Lane Church. For two years, from the age of eight, I was an altar boy, which made her very proud. I also joined the choir, along with two of my mates from the Oliver Bond flat; the Curren brothers. They took it as a laugh but I was serious, because I knew it would please my ma and I remember having to do an audition with the choir master who was an elderly blind man. I was in awe of him, the way he could play the organ despite not being able to see.
Ma would also take me to Meath Street Church,