My story 17. WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE - Loughborough Year 1

 When push came to shove, I turned Wigan down.

Saturday 8^th November 2025, sat at my computer in Dad’s house in Bridlington's preparing for my creative writing workshop at Post Office Rd, Featherstone home of the famous Rovers, next Tuesday.

Dad, Slam Lambert, has a wiki page, is 95 and just made a dash to the loo, 3^rd time today. He asks me to check is bum is clean, it is, I then clean up the mess

This workshop is run by Ian Clayton's famous local author, who won the Sunday Times sports book of the year for WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE [Yorkshire Art circus 1993]

Just the kick up the bum I needed to put pen to paper, or mouth to Dragon software in my case.

Loughborough colleges

At the age of 16, I received (here somewhere) a letter to sign up for the mighty Wigan Rugby League team. Having tasted London -Twickenham- I wanted more, so dad politely replied saying we were going to put education first. My plan was to qualify as a schoolteacher, marry Lizie my fiancé, sign for Leeds and have mate Les Dyle to keep an eye on me. I would then see my days out playing for my beloved Rovers. The plan almost worked bar a series of coincidences, that are scary and for later.

Courtesy of a grade C in geography I was offered a place at one of the elite sports colleges in the world and still is, Loughborough. The College still has its famous twin towers which was the tallest student building in Europe, at the time of its construction. I lived on floor 13 room C, in the next room, Clive Rees Wales and future British Lions rugby player there were five of us on the floor all served by a single bath/ shower (lovely story about a bath for later) and toilet kitchen and?  On the floor above Steve Moorcroft the runner and Seb Coe somewhere on campus.  I was a fish out of water.

I was one of 123 students on the physical education, three-year certificate of education program and geography as a double main.  This would qualify me to teach PE and geography in a secondary school. The college was full of swanky athletes’ tennis stars, sports stars from every discipline. We shared the campus with lads with an  A* in Geometrical and engineering drawing. We called them chippies.  There were rugby pitches, gyms, and an athletics track. swimming pool, it was like nothing I've ever seen on earth. 

I arrived in my Wolsey 1500, a  car which my dad had paid 15 quid for and I love it. Leather seats, walnut dashboard and one of those little corner window lights, good for flicking cigarette ash  through. Yes,  I'd been smoking on and off since I had a girlfriend called's Judith Dixon from Castleford when I was 16. I had got so fed up of not having a girlfriend at Normanton I caught a bus to Castleford one Saturday, went in the station hotel, met Peter Beach my next-door neighbor from north Featherstone when age six. Ordered a beer, still 16 and best you read my ‘how not to lose your virginity’ blog for what happened next.

Where was I? Oh yes, Loughborough and smoking.

One very posh tennis lad arrived, with blonde hair, good looks and the MG soft-top his dad had provided for college. He once said, “Hi Bungalow, I’m Johnathon, I went to Harrow, were you from a rugger school old boy.” ‘Normanton Gramar School’ I proudly responded.  I somehow took comfort in being known. Also took me a while to work out what ‘nowt up top’ meant. It got worse.

My arrival at Loughborough was a huge wake-up call, I went to collect my grant on day one only to be told I hadn’t qualified as my dad earned to much. Dad gave me £10 week for clothes, kit and a car to run. Jobs every holiday.

The first essay I submitted was a fail.  I was told that I had to go for extra English lessons. I went to one with a tutor, handed him work a third year PE and English student wrote for me, all in Yorkshire slang, eer ba gum and all that, the teacher said fine and never went back. A mistake really as my English wasn’t good and dyslexia hadn’t been invented then.  I was also engaged to the lovely Lizie,  long story, who was very clever studying English and Drama in Doncaster to be an English teacher. She writes all my essays and I got good marks. More a fish out of water as academically out of my depth, being called bungalow and then it got worse.

Loughborough rugby team was full of internationals, Clive Rees and Lewis Dick for a start both in my bloody position. Frank Cotton captain.  They did try me at center twice, but it was rubbish. I was released to go and play with the freshers. My world collapsed, bungalow really did have nowt up top, had fallen off his perch and a very rude awakening.

It got worse, teaching practice. Fairham comprehensive School, Nottingham. Eighteen form entry, police came one day as someone had taken the pet rabbits home for dinner.  I was given javelin to teach one day, the biggest problem I had was to get that stop them throwing the javelins at each other. One Thursday morning, hung over after a nonexistent fresher’s game day before at St Mary’s Twickenham when there was a cock-up and they played someone else. We just drank all day and the coach had to stop three times for wees.

Oh yes, Thursday morning beer stains all down my top – I couldn't find a clean one - and I was teaching these kids long jump, hung over, leaning on the rake, shouting run and jump, which was not the proper thing to do.  I look behind me and there he was, somebody Lewis, Welsh name, small man, making notes, he had made a surprise visit.  I would fail my end of year teaching practice but not before a cameo appearance in the first 7’s team and staying in Frank Cottons mum’s house nr Manchester.

Nice software Dragon Naturally Speaking. Last used it 25 years ago but then handed a mini tape to Margaret and four hours later beautifully typed letters and reports would be collected by the postman.

Early days but Lambo is back on the pitch. Slams up and making me a cupper, just lovely.