Great Face for Radio

Anderson John

Description

John Anderson tells the tale of how a humble insurance clerk from Guildford came to rove the world covering some of the biggest sports events of the past 25 years. Now updated with six new chapters including his stories and insights from the heart of the England camp during World Cup 2010 and Euro 2012, A Great Face for Radio is a hilarious memoir of his experiences as a radio sports correspondent and commentator. While reporting from Olympic Games, World Cups and world title fights, John has been in the thick of football riots, was almost arrested during the 1996 Atlanta bombing, had to flee bottle-wielding fans at a rap gig and survived gunfire during a high-speed car chase to a Johannesburg brothel. He has rubbed shoulders with stars such as Pele, Mike Tyson, Dame Kelly Holmes and Carl Lewis, and once interviewed David Beckham in a French gents toilet.

Sujets

• Philosophie et théologie
• Memoir
• Radio

Informations

• Publié par: Pitch Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 août 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781909178519
• Langue: English

Extrait

This book is copyright under the Berne convention. No part of this book may be reproduced, sold or utilised in any form or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the Publisher.
© and ® John Anderson. All rights reserved 2009 and 2012.
The right of John Anderson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the Publisher.
First published by Know the Score Books 2009 Reprinted by Pitch Publishing 2012
Pitch Publishing A2 Yeoman Gate Yeoman Way Durrington BN13 3QZ www.pitchpublishing.co.uk
First published in eBook format in 2012 eISBN: 978-1-909178-51-9 (Printed edition: 978-1-84818-403-9)
Jacket Design by Simon Williams at feastcreative.com Ebook Conversion by www.ebookpartnership.com
CONTENTS
Foreword by Terry Butcher
Introduction: "Can I carry your bags?"
"So how did you get into that then?"
"Stan Laurel on a bad day."
"I’m glad we’ve spoiled your night.
"Rimpick Star-Yon."
"Johnson’s flying."
"I’ve got all my tattoos down the right-hand side."
"Schi-laaaaaaaaaaaaaa-ci!!!"
"I own everything that moves around here."
"More famous than Julian Golding."
"Such a typically American name."
"F****** Krauts!"
"That was rubbish."
"Have we scored?"
"Scalded Cat"
"Pimp My Book"
"They Treat Us Like Refugees"
"Thirty Five Days Without Chips"
"Back In A Coffin"
"Hopefully He’ll Hear Us Up There"
To Carolyn, Becky and Katie
Curing the pain of separation with the joy of return
And in memory of my favourite northerner David Oates.
Top commentator, top mate, top bloke.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to say a big thanks to the following people who, by virtue of their help, guidance, friendship and stubborn refusal to leave the hotel bar, ensured that there was never a dull moment on the many trips we have shared together:
Nigel Adderley, Matthew Allen, Jeremy Armstrong, Marc Aspland, Stuart Barnes, Rob Beasley, Adrian Bevington, David Bond, Stephen Booth, Steve Bower, Mark Bradley, Eric Brown, Joanne Budd, Mike Burgess, Terry Butcher, Bob Cass, Ian Chadband, Andrew Cheal, Dave Clark, Mike Collett, Nick Collins, Elliot Cook, Martin Cooke, John Cross, John Curtis, Shaun Custis, Ian Dennis, Rob Draper, Jon Driscoll, Andy Edwards, Phil Edwards, Scott Field, Andy Fraser, Olly Foster, Tony Gale, Andrew Gidley, Doug Gillon, Tim Glover, Ian Gordon, David Harrison, Steven Howard, Stuart Hutchison, Mike Ingham, Tom Knight, Tony Lawrence, James Lawton, Bill Leslie, Richard Lewis, Martin Lipton, Tony Lockwood, Mick Lowes, Tony Mabert, George Matheson, Kevin McCarra, Dom McGuinness, Duncan McKay, Phil McNulty, John Mehaffey, Glenn Moore, Tim Morgan, Kaz Mochlinski, Tim Moynihan, Charlotte Nicol, David Oates, Michael O’Neill, Vikki Orvice, David O’Sullivan, Andrew Parkinson, Jayne Pearce, Jonathan Pearce, David Pearson, Dickie Pelham, Mark Pougatch, David Powell, Jim Proudfoot, John Richardson, Stuart Robinson, Mike Rowbottom, Brian Scott, Steve Scott, Caroline Searle, Pete Simmons, Chris Skudder, Owen Slot, Caj Sohal, Guy Swindells, Graham Taylor, Andrew Titheridge, Simon Turnbull, John & Keith Warren, Julian Waters, Neil Webb, Peter Wenmann, Nigel Whitefield, Mark Whittle, Richard Williams, Steve Wilson, Henry Winter, Dave Woods, Rob Wotton and Alastair Yeomans.
In Memoriam: Danny Fullbrook.
I would like to thank all my friends at talkSPORT for affording me the privi­lege of working with them at World Cup 2010 and Euro 2012, especially Moz Dee, Matt Smith, Steve Morgan, Mike Bovill, Liam Fisher, Dennie Morris, Mark Saggers, Adrian Durham, Ian Danter, Jonathan Norman and Giles Carruthers.
Hats off to Henry Winter for adding his endorsement to the book and Terry Butcher for his wonderful foreword.
Finally, my most sincere thanks go to Paul and Jane Camillin at Pitch Publishing for rescuing the project, keeping the faith with it and allowing me to waffle on through six more chapters.
You can follow John Anderson on Twitter @GreatFaceRadio.
John Anderson October 2012
FOREWORD
by Terry Butcher
When John Anderson asked me to do a foreword I replied:
"I was never a foreword, I was a defender."
But nevertheless I very am happy to be writing these words, as this book had given me a lot of laughs and brought back some very good memories of my days on the road with the England media pack.
As any former pro will tell you, nothing can ever replace the thrill of playing football for a living, especially when it’s at the highest level. But when the ankles, knees and, in my case, gashed forehead could no longer take any more punish­ment, at least I had the trusty jawbone to fall back on. I could still talk a good game and so I did the next best thing to actually playing and spent ten years following the England team as a summariser on BBC Radio 5Live . It was great to be able to travel the world freed from the inconveniences of discipline, training, curfews and drinking bans.
During that time I met many other like-minded souls who specialised in talking about football by day and slurring drunkenly about it, and everything else, by night.
I don’t know exactly when I first ran into John Anderson; it was probably in some dimly lit bar in Eastern Europe that we’d both been attracted to by the prospect of cheap beer and loud music. He’s a fan of punk and new wave and I’m firmly in the heavy metal camp, but there were a few mutual points in between that we agreed on. Theoretically we were rivals in broadcasting terms too, with me representing the BBC and John working for Independent Radio News (IRN), but we hit it off straightaway and those few beers, wherever it was, were the first of many. In the years that followed we got sloshed in Sofia, tanked in Tirana, ham­mered in Helsinki and blotto in Baku.
We often used to sit in a little radio enclave on the plane and trade insults en route to our latest assignment. I remember we were once waiting for take-off to somewhere or other and discussing a Sky TV programme called The Match in which Graham Taylor managed a group of celebrity players in a game against a team of former professionals. One of the celebs was Olympic gold medal winning sprinter Darren Campbell.
"He’s not a bad player is he, Butch?" John ventured.
Quickly and without thinking I replied "yeah, he’s quick."
Within seconds of my realising how absurd this stark statement of the bleeding obvious must have sounded, John had broadcast it down the entire corridor of the plane and I spent the rest of the flight being mercilessly slaughtered by him and everyone else on board.
I proceeded to try and counter the humiliation by chanting "no surrender to the IRN" very loudly, only to be threatened with expulsion from the plane by an irate steward who feared that a drunken England hooligan had somehow sneaked onto the media charter flight.
Happily I later got my revenge as I blasted him off air and almost off his feet by standing in front of his satellite transmission dish in Macedonia which is one of the many tales he has chosen to share with the publication of this memoir.
John Anderson does like the odd beverage or two from time to time, as previ­ously stated, but he is one of the hardest workers I have ever seen and who only raised a glass when all his tasks and requests had been completed. I have been very lucky to share his company and consider John to be one of my closest pals in football and the media, though he really does have one of the best faces for radio!
I hope you’ll enjoy his stories as much as I have.
Terry Butcher
INTRODUCTION
" Can I carry your bags?"
I always try and avoid dinner parties.
I don’t have anything against the actual concept; I’m sure many people can derive huge enjoyment from them and all the very best if you are one of them. It’s just that, despite having carved out a reasonable career as a professional broad­caster, I am hopelessly disinclined towards the concept of small talk, take little interest in the everyday lives of people who I have barely met and struggle to deal with the petit bourgeois etiquette of such gatherings.
I will happily pile into summer barbecues and winter piss-ups in which tried, tested and carbon dated mates gather for a night of food, friendship and Fuller’s London Pride. However, as soon as someone utters the dreaded but inevitable phrase "mmm, something smells good" or starts talking about cars, careers or curtains, I take on the persona of a doomed hedgehog, trapped in startled horror by the intense sodium glare of social, culinary and parental one-upmanship.
I’m talking about the sort of event beloved of NCT mothers and IT fathers who wander around in sandals crapping on about timeshares, organic rhubarb (most likely grown in their allotment) and Nigella bloody Lawson. Despite your best efforts to camouflage yourself by leaning up against something roughly the same colour as your shirt and not moving an inch, eventually someone will bound up enthusiastically and start asking vacuous questions about your life. This, of course, is a wholly transparent ploy designed at manoeuvring the conversation around so that they might be able to offer you supposedly fascinating insights into their own.
The manifestation of this is a se