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Shapwick's football team played in a buttercup field called "Champion" (locally shortened to "Champ") out across the meadows. In the fifties and sixties, the team strip was a wonderful yellow and maroon quartered shirt with light blue shorts - quite a colourful sight.
I never managed to wear that famous strip - when I was old enough to play, a new red and black vertical striped shirt with black shorts was in use. The manager in the sixties, when my Dad played centre forward, and, later, I played right wing, was a local man, Sid Marsh, who lived opposite the village pub, the "Anchor Inn". A match on Saturday drew spectators from the Village. One day, a young lad called Charlie Clarke, all of three years old, wandered across "Hawkpit" to "Champ", in a pair of wellies at least 3 sizes too big and stood by the goal to watch the game. In came a shot, missing the post by a foot or two, and hit little Charlie full square, knocking him clean out of his wellies which stood unmoved on the grass. Charlie was OK - a tough little so-and-so he was. I cannot recall all the names of the good and great of the team but recall Gordie Chalk an excellent defender, well known for his sliding tackles, and who always carried a clean white hankie in his hand whilst on the field. The one-time goalie, Brian Hazell (I think), was knee high to a grasshopper, but could leap like a cat, and many a time was man of the match. The "Groundsman" was a chap known to all as "Ochie" - haven't a clue how to spell that, or what his real name was. He lived in a thatched cottage next to the Pub and worked at Crab Farm. On home match days, he would walk across the field to a little iron hut in the corner of "Champ", and empty a gallon of creosote into the line-marking machine. Then he spent an hour lining-out the pitch with the black-brown liquid - no white markings for Shapwick! Shapwick's football team played in the lower Dorset League divisions and rarely enjoyed success but it was another example of how a small community came together for entertainment.
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