Last updated at 14:07, Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Geoff Brown’s story features no medals, no national anthems and no flaming torch carried through the streets.

Geoff Brown

But it shows that sport can still touch lives, even in the absence of razzamataz.

This tale of football and friendship covers 40 years. And the timespan is evident in a pair of photographs.

The first is black and white, taken in 1975 at Harraby Catholic Club, Carlisle.

It’s Carlisle and District Sunday Friendly League’s end-of-season presentation night.

The men in the picture are the players of Moorhouse FC. The long-haired and large-collared class of ’75.

The colour photo, taken this year, shows many of the men together again, some for the first time since the ’70s.

Geoff Brown was the reason for this reunion, although he didn’t realise it was organised largely for him.

“Geoff is a great lad,” says Bernie Short, a fellow Moorhouse old boy. “He was the life and soul of the team. He wouldn’t want to think the reunion was for him, but it was really. He’s moving to Liverpool soon. I’ll travel down there but most of the lads won’t see him again.”

The years since Moorhouse FC broke up have been difficult for Geoff.

His wife Linda died of cancer four years ago.

Their son Nicholas died in a road accident in 1984.

Geoff is moving to Liverpool to live in a self-contained flat at the home of his son Jonathan. He has had health problems since a stroke 20 years ago.

Geoff has made a gradual and partial recovery. One of the stroke’s legacies is evident when he greets you with a left-handed handshake. The right hand remains curled in on itself.

Geoff has also had kidney problems for 20 years and is likely to need dialysis.

Twelve years ago he had a quadruple heart bypass. Despite his ailments Geoff is an upbeat chap, brimming with quips and happy memories.

“Considering my health problems, I’m ok. As long as I can get to the pub for three o’clock.”

The pub is where this story started.

In the early 1970s Geoff and Bernie were among the young men from Carlisle and villages west of the city who decided to form a football team.

They drank at the Royal Oak in Moorhouse and named the team after the village.

“I was probably the oldest,” recalls Geoff. “Some of the lads were still at school. I would pick them up and take them to matches. One of them was Alf Harrington, the champion Cumberland wrestler.”

For its first few years the club played on Monday nights in a farmer’s field near Moorhouse.

Geoff and Bernie remember having to navigate cow pats as well as opposing players.

“Before we played, a barrow and shovel was the norm as the field had to be cleared of cow muck,” says Bernie. “This was most definitely grassroots football, but fantastic games. There was no referee, just local lads who came for a game. Sometimes it was 15-a-side.

“If it was a close game we would play until we could hardly see the ball.”

Moorhouse acquired some old floodlights and fixed them up in trees with extension leads.

Bernie recalls: “One of the leads had a bare bit. It was touching the barbed wire fence.

“When one lad came to play he tried to climb over the fence and as he put his hand on it, he was electrocuted. His hand gripped and he couldn’t let go. I can remember carrying him into the farmyard.”

Bernie can laugh about it now – and he does – in the knowledge that the victim made a full recovery.

Things became a little more organised. Moorhouse joined the Friendly League and played home matches at Willowholme.

Geoff was manager, a role which called less on his tactical prowess than his willingness to turn up early and fit the goal nets.

“We just played for the fun,” he says. “There were no pot-hunters, just people who wanted a kickabout on a Sunday morning.

“But it was competitive when we got started. We used to kick hell out of people.”

Geoff was a centre-forward who grabbed a few goals.

Jobby and Margaret Clarke, who ran the Royal Oak, were also key players for Moorhouse.

Jobby was on the touchline in all weathers. Margaret used to put sandwiches on after matches.

Football had never been life and death for the Moorhouse men.

For Geoff, the difference between football and family was brought home in January 1984.

His son Nicholas was killed in a road accident near Carlisle when he was only 19.

“We had to get on with it,” shrugs Geoff, with moist eyes. “I had a milk round. Linda and me used to get up at three o’clock every morning. The day after Nicholas was killed, we had to get up and deliver milk.”

Geoff didn’t play much football after Nicholas was killed and his team-mates had their own reasons to stop.

“It faded away. People do move on, don’t they? They get older. They retire from playing. It was good while it lasted.”

Those words could certainly apply to Geoff’s marriage.

Geoff was 19 when he married farmer’s daughter Linda Norman. She was 18.

A marriage that lasted 44 years ended in five weeks: the time from Linda’s diagnosis with cancer to her death.

“She had a pain in her thigh. Then she developed a terrible cough. She had a scan and it was right through her – her lungs, kidneys, liver, even her brain. Everywhere.

“I don’t think anybody would ever speak ill of Linda. She was a fabulous mother. She always saw the good in people. Her family was everything to her.”

Linda was buried at Burgh by Sands, alongside Nicholas.

Geoff has lived at Stanwix since his wife died but now he’s preparing to move away, having had one last hurrah with the Moorhouse boys.

They met at the Wellington Inn in Great Orton. A raffle was held. Proceeds went to Eden Valley Hospice, where Linda was looked after.

“There were lots of people I hadn’t seen for years. Anthony Martin was still at school last time I saw him. Now he’s got grown-up kids and a bald head.

“It felt like a long time since I saw them. Especially when you look at the black and white photo and look at them in real life 40 years later.

“There was a lot of reminiscing. When I first had my stroke I hated going out in public. I was very self-conscious. You think people are staring at you. You get depressed. It was good to see them. It was a good night.”

The Moorhouse boys may have lost the ability to run down the wing or drive in a shot. But they are still powerful men. They can lift the spirits. They can take pensioners back in time and make them feel young again.

First published at 11:29, Tuesday, 26 June 2012
Published by http://www.newsandstar.co.uk