Lost League Grounds (11) : Eastville Stadium

Brings back a lot of memories this Eastville thread. I had one of my first away footy trips there with my Dad and then later on, after the football club had moved, did an on-track training course there when I worked for Satellite Information Services (SIS), the company that broadcasts all of the greyhound racing pictures to the bookmakers BAGS service.

Sadly back then (would have been 1994 I imagine) the place was in a sad state of repair, and basically being allowed to fall down. Rust and grime everywhere, and even the thought of having a cuppa from the big urn in the canteen area turned me off! (Did manage a burger, but that came from a van as did my tea eventually!!!)

That day was the first time I met a legend of the South West racing circuit, one Chris Jordan or CJ as I would come to know him. CJ was famed in SIS and on-track circles for his broad Bristolian brogue, and some of the commentaries he did were the funniest pieces of racing broadcast I have ever heard. I often thought if he had had the confidence he could have been a working-man's version of John McCririck, without all the loathsome tendencies that man brings.

The only problem was trying to understand just what CJ was trying to get across. He liked to send his prices in in language that was a little different to tictac, and very different to anything that the other on-course staff used to pass on. But because I was apparently a bumpkin from the South West, it was always me on the end of the phone with him, and after a couple of early near misses, I was well adept in CJ speak by the time I left the company, with a 100% record of input accuracy!! What they did when I was on holiday, I have no idea, but he always used to welcome me back like a prodigal son and we always had a long chat when I bumped into him at Newton Abbot or elsewhere like Newbury when he made the trip there.

But one thing he always used to say while I was in the office on the opposite end of the phone to what I was there training for, was when the dogs came out of the kennel area to walk in front of the main stand with their handlers was his loud voice cry 'THE CHERRIES ARE ON PARADE' to consistent laughter from the crowds on hand - on the afternoon I was there, it totalled 17 punters and 4 bookies!!

That began a long friendship, sadly ended two years ago when he passed away from colon cancer. He worked almost every day until a week before that foul disease finally got to him.

By then, Eastville's greyhound days had come to an end, when in October 1997 Bristol ran their final meeting, taking all of their staff, dogs and the BAGS contract to the Blundon Stadium in Swindon. I often wonder now if CJ's ghost walks the aisles of the IKEA on the site of Eastville, shouting 'THE CHERRIES ARE ON PARADE' to the customers waiting for their swedish meatballs in the restaurant!!

I've got a few rather "unique" tales which come to mind whenever Eastville is mentioned..................

I well remember those flower beds (diamond shaped) in the areas between the goals and the curves of the greyhound track and can anyone recall the day we went up there on Good Friday 1967 and played before a crowd of well over 20,000? There was even an athletics meeting laid on as pre-match entertainment!

Another Good Friday (March 28th, 1975) was the date I witnessed mayhem and carnage in the streets and on the Tote as the notorious Manchester United Red Army took the Rovers territory during United's sole season in a lower division in modern times. I recall the date with little difficulty as my eldest daughter was born in Torbay Hospital later that day -and had it not been for her mother's fatigue (she wasn't expected for another three weeks!) she would have been in Bristol with us as she had intended go shopping in the city centre! As it happened a blizzard enveloped the area late afternoon and we became marooned on the M5 at the bottom of the climb up from Gordano Services (no mobile phones in those days) and when I eventually got home it was to a note pinned on the front door to get my arse down to Torquay ASAP. I made the birth with minutes to spare and the melting snow ripping a hole in the paper mask over my mouth and nose!

A few years later Albert Larmour (remember him?) turned up for work one morning with his right eye in obvious distress...................whilst looking after the youth team up at Eastville the night before he had run on the pitch to treat an injury and inadvertently turned the freeze spray to his face as he bent over the player and had to endure the ride home looking like one of the Rovers' Pirates complete with black eye patch!