Mike Squire

The same reporter has covered our games for the Herald Express for the best part of forty years. I’ve always considered him very fair-minded.

Overall I guess that, at least until the Herald Express switched from a daily to a weekly in 2011, we’ve always enjoyed a fair amount of newspaper coverage. Whereas Chesterfield tend to jostle for space alongside the five South Yorkshire clubs we’ve only got Plymouth, Exeter and - to a lesser extent - Yeovil to worry about. The local joke is about Plymouth getting more than their fair share of coverage but that’s the type of complaint you’ll hear in every region of the country. Also, more than with Chesterfield, there’s the issue of rugby union‘s relatively high profile in the region. Exeter Chiefs are the local glamour boys these days which, to be honest, is hardly surprising.

On the plus side our regional television has traditionally covered fewer clubs than yours would have done - although changes in ITV mean we now hear about the Bristol clubs (previously over the hills and far away). We also have a local Sunday paper and the Western Morning News, unlike the Sheffield Morning Telegraph, is still appearing on a daily basis.



I’m struggling with the detail of the game but remember travelling back to Preston that evening in a reasonably optimistic frame of mind (especially regarding young Mr Squire!). Mind you, from my days of watching Sheffield United in the mid 1970s, I was an unashamed Tony Currie fan. He walked on water, as you'll remember, and it was a thrill seeing him play for us.

But it’s the context that interested me at the time. Torquay United was under new management in the shape of Dave Webb who, in effect, also owned the club as well as being a registered player. This was quite an upheaval after a lengthy spell of inertia and slow decay. We looked on with bated breath as some of the higher-paid - and better - players were rapidly turfed out to be replaced by a rather mixed assortment. These included the great TC; a lad from the South Devon League; a couple of players who only stayed for short while and - to be fair - several who became significant figures at Plainmoor. It was eventful, rather hit-and-miss and you were never quite sure what would happen next.

I’d not seen too many games during the early part of 1984 but the performance at Chesterfield (game 36) promised more than I dared hope at the time. Indeed, it heralded a decent end to the season which saw six wins and two draws in the final ten games. Without the play-offs - or relegation from the fourth - ends of season may have been softer in those days but, nonetheless, there seemed to be method in Webby’s madness.

Then what happened?

24th in both 1984/85 and 1985/86; the most horrible time in our history. We were weakest club in the league when English football was probably at its’ lowest ebb.

I keep the programmes from my games – a decision that seemed wise in 1965 anyway – and there was a “Sunday Special” for that game at Saltergate in 1984.

But you’re right. No mention of either Mike Squire or Tony Currie in the printed line-up.

Instead there’s the crossed-out names of the players we were pruning: Carr, Curle and Sims.

But ex-Chesterfield ‘keeper Jon Turner was still with us. Just. It was his last game.

Time now for Kenny Allen.

Sorry for a little absence. Someone asked about my football move to Italy for some more information. Always happy to oblige even though it brings back some bad memories.
Before my falling out with Dave Webb and leaving the club, and before considering returning to Dorset I worked during the off season as an English tutor at the Tjaerborg School of English in Torquay.
It was then I met an Italian gentleman who owned a sporting statistics company in Milan, DataSport. A little while afterwards as pre-season started I had my falling out with Dave Webb and left. Keeping contact with the Italian I was offered a move to Monza, then I believe the farm team for AC Milan. Back then teams could only have 2 foreign players so I went to Casale in C1. They were unable to get all the necessary documents in place in time for me to start the season so I ended up with a semi-pro team - Moranese where I became a prolific goal scorer.
To say I received racist abuse would be an understatement. It was like I was carrying a target on my back. Every game I would be punched and kicked off the ball and the linesmen would do nothing. The only thing I could do was become better and stronger, which I did. As the season started I scored I believe about 19 goals in the first 9 games. I was approached by St. Vincent in C1 to play for them and with my documents in order would have been able todo so. I was due to go see them on the following Wednesday. The Sunday in between, November 17, 1983 was my nightmare. I had already scored twice and there was a long through ball. I easily left the defender behind and the goalkeeper came storming out. I got to the ball first and touched it over him with my right foot, as I planted the right foot again to move around him he continued to come out full speed and went studs up into my firmly planted right leg just below my knee. I don't remember much else except when I looked down as I was still standing on my left leg I saw the bone sticking out below my right knee and my right foot crossed over my left foot. The keeper walked unnervingly past me back to his goal. A free kick was given but the goalie received no yellow or red card. I was carted to hospital where I had a 6 1/2 hour operation to sew back my anterior, posterior cruciate and lateral ligaments, remove the damaged cartilage and repair the sack containg the knee fluid. 150 external stitches and over 400 internal stitches.
It was 10 weeks to get the cast off and 3 months to walk again without crutches.
I was fortunate enough that the nerve was not damaged and for my rehab I had the physio of the Italian downhill ski team who was an expert at knee injuries.
I wasn able, after about 6 months of training to resume amateur soccer.
Of course now it hurts like mad after I play - but I just can't give up the game. A bit of ice and Ibuprofen and a couple of days and I'm okay again!!
Anyway, I still play recreational coed soccer and coach and still love the game.
It would have been nicer to have a story like Mark Hately, who I used to play against in Sunday football in Dorset. In fact we always used to beat his team and when I played with him for the SW Colts I would always outscore him! Funny how things turn out.

I want to thank all of those who have commented on my brief career there in Torquay and while I think I might have headered too many soggy, heavy leather footballs your comments and history facts are replenishing my memories of Torquay.

My best to all of you. Back to you soon.

Great to hear more of the story. Just to show I can be a bit pedantic, that should be 84 rather than 83 shouldn't it?

How thin the line between a glittering career or not is. I wonder if the guy who crocked you still remembers what he did.

It's interesting that you stayed in Torquay for the summer and were all set to stay with the club. I'd love to know more about the Webby falling out.

We ended up the following season perming two from Benny Laryea, Dean Mooney and Gary Pugh. It was not good. What could we have achieved with a front two of Steve Cooper and Mike Squire? Coops' career was also ruined by a mindless idiot - this time in John Menzies in Torquay.

Working with students was (and probably still is) a great way to earn some money in the summer. While you and Barty did Tjäreborg, I did a few summers with EF.

Barty's Swedes and Finns would have been a piece of cake. A nice friendly chat in fluent English picking up a few obscure bits of vocabulary or odd grammar points.

The Germans were harder to please "Ve vant to do grammar!"

My Italian groups used to sit there claiming not to understand or speak a word of English. I twigged the way to get the best out of them was to give them a break at the same time as the Swedish girls in the next classroom. Suddenly they were fluent! "You go disco? I see you there. I buy you a drink. Your friend like my friend?".

My falling out with Dave Webb was all about a groin injury in pre-season training. nothing more. I reported after a preseason session that I had pain in my groin. The next day I was called into his office and told how disappointed he was in me and that I was to be put immediately on the transfer list. As I was only getting $50 a week I declined the offer, left the club and within a week was offered an experience in Italy which I took!