Gary Roe’s granddad took him to his first Forest games when he was a nipper. Now he’s hooked and learning more about the game by the day, which could stand him to make a profit…

It was the following season when I got to go down to the City Ground again and by now I was learning about league tables, points and goal averages. My granddad was full of information on football. He used to spot me with my football and give me tips on passing and shooting. He showed me how to head a ball properly and I was thankful for that. Have you ever mis-headed a caseball? If you have then you’ll know how Custer felt.

Two players were easily brought to mind when talking about Forest, one was Addison, our centre forward, he was often on the goal sheet, and at the other end a goalie called Peter Grummitt. What a weird name. Grummitt looked about the thinnest man in the team but boy could he launch a ball from a drop kick. He could kick it high and right over the half way line; you wouldn’t catch me heading one of his kicks. He could also dive around like a cat. No matter how hard the shots came he would launch himself at the ball, sometimes punching it wide. Well at least they had grass down in the penalty areas, which must have made it easier for him.

During that season, 1964/65, I got to see a couple of matches again. It always seemed to be Spurs, Man U, Burnley and Stoke City. By now Stanley Matthews’ chances of appearing were remote, but it always seemed to attract a good crowd.

On the other side of the family I had an Uncle Tom, married to my mam’s sister, Aunt Doll. He was a Forest nut. When my mam told him I was a Forest supporter he loved it. I was took aside during family teatimes at Clifton or Martin Street in Nottingham and he would be telling me all about Forest. He would also fill me in on other teams and where they played. For instance I thought Liverpool played at Liverpool and Stoke played at Stoke but in actual fact Liverpool played at Anfield Road and Stoke played at the Victoria Ground, and what was more important, we played at the City Ground!

One Sunday at my Auntie Kath’s, after the men had been out for a pint, Uncle Tom pulled me to one side and blessed me with his knowledge of football and especially Nottingham Forest. I lapped every minute up. Here was a wealth of knowledge on my favourite team; he knew the lot: FA Cup-winning team, top scorers, past and present players; the lot.

Then, when he had got an audience, I was beckoned in front of the whole house and Uncle Tom would put me on the spot by asking me to answer football questions. His favourites were nicknames and grounds. I was successful with the easy ones and now Tom gets a two shilling piece out and made it my prize for getting this very next question right.

Then my mam and everyone says: “Don’t be silly Tom, not two bob!”

That only makes Uncle Tom more determined to put me to the test: “Right Gary, I’ll ask you about grounds now.”

The room is quiet. I expect some stinker of a question which I wouldn’t know the answer.

“Who plays at the Victoria Ground?”

“Stoke City,” I say with confidence. And a shiny two-shilling piece was mine. Automatically my mam says to give it back, and even I knew Uncle Tom had had a few. So I offered him the coin back; Uncle Tom’s eyes bulged at the thought. He said I had earned it and I was going home with that in my pocket to buy sweets or anything I wanted and Tom’s mind was made up. Everyone went back to the cucumber sandwiches and teapot. Deep down there was only me and Uncle Tom knew I knew the answer; it was his last question to me before he made the two-shilling reward. Bless him.

Later as I grew I never seen much of Uncle Tom, but whenever he saw my mam and dad he would ask if I still going down to the City Ground, and the answer was obvious, so he must have thought he did his bit to make me a Forest supporter. Most matches I knew he was in the crowd somewhere and probably him with me; a well spent two bob.

All this was new to me but I took on board all this new information and backed it up by reading my football annuals. But why the City Ground? We are not Nottingham City.

During the 1965/66 season Forest signed a few new names. Terry Hennessey from Birmingham City for £40,000, and I was told that was a lot of money. But the signing of Joe Baker was more publicised, and Mrs Gratton, a neighbour, brought round the evening paper to show me the news. There was a picture of Joe, who was some player I was told by my dad, and he was holding the number 9 shirt.

The shirt had changed – before it was red with a round white neck and white cuffs. Now the neck had a distinct few stripes on it, as did the cuffs. This made a Forest shirt unique among all the other red and whites in the league. It also started an era unknown to me and all I could remember was that early in the season we beat Manchester United 4-2 in front of a packed house (it was 33,000 but it was the fullest I’d known so far).

The summer came and all the attention was turned to the World Cup Finals. The Jules Rimet trophy was up for grabs. I didn’t know much about World Cups and learned as it unfolded. So football took off in a big way with me. I was learning all about these foreign players and also wondered why we hadn’t got any Forest players in the England camp? I knew that Baker, Hinton and Wignall were all internationals and even Hennessey,

“No, he’s Welsh,” an older lad overruled me.

But why weren’t Wales in the World Cup? There was a lot to find out.

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