by Allan ‘Salty’ Jones
It was as a seven-year-old boy in 1951 that I first made my way to Penydarren Park to see the Martyrs. Together with my younger brother Grenville and my father, we would either walk the short distance from Penydarren or catch the bus to the Theatre Royal. We would then join the large crowd on the Promenade and gain entry to the ground at the Theatre end.
Sometimes, manning one of the turnstiles would be my uncle, John Rees (right). John, a remarkable man, was also the club’s groundsman. He did his job despite having two artificial legs from just below the knee. Penydarren Park at this time was a very heavy venue and I can picture, even now, my uncle forking the ground to remove the excess water and his artificial legs would be sinking into the mud. To have an uncle who was in the inner sanctum of the Club used to make me feel very proud.
We used to watch the games from the Theatre end, sitting on the wooden fencing behind the goal. My father used to go a little way back into the crowd. The atmosphere was terrific, which was particularly caused by the great success the club had achieved during the late ‘40s and its continued success. I cannot remember seeing the great Bill Hullett play, but the side I can still picture vividly is:- Sellick, Avery, Phillips, Lloyd, Lowe and Richards, Davies, Squires, Reynolds, Jarman, Powell.
We were always playing football in the streets as there were not many cars around. On home days, Stan Davies the right wing of the above team, used to walk through the street carrying his boots in a small bag, on his way to Penydarren Park. One of our heroes walking through my street! Not long after, another of Merthyr’s famous football sons used to walk through my street to play for the Town. Ronnie Skyrme used to live in the next street, Church Street, and it was always a thrill to see him walking to a game. Ronnie was later transferred to Tonbridge.
On returning home from the match, we would again go out to play football. Some of the players would have a distinctive way of wearing their kit, and in our own innocent way we would try to copy them. We would give ourselves their names and shout for example, “Good shot Dego” (Trevor Reynolds’ nickname) or “Well saved Bert”, for Bert Sellick and “What a goal Shenkin”.
I could go on for quite a while reminiscing about this team but suffice it to say that who can forget the silky skills of Squires, Jarman and Dai Lloyd; the thunderous shot of Shenkin Powell and the sliding tackles of Ralph Avery. Two reserve players also come to mind from this era: Des Jackson, who I believe came from Glynneath, a village in which my father worked for 50 years in the coal mine. The other was Andy Mulgrew, a little Irish winger, and the much bigger Trevor Reynolds used to look after him like a father.
There were some great derby games at that time, for example Hereford United, and I can remember the big Aberfan born and Welsh Amateur international Gwyn Groves playing so well for them in goal. Another famous Merthyr man appeared in the Hereford team at this time – Cyril Beech. Cyril later went on to become a very successful scout, and amongst his discoveries were John Hartson and Mark Pembridge. Gloucester City, Worcester City and Bath City were always hard-fought games, and I can remember on one occasion the great Charlie Fleming turning out for Bath City. What games!
And what about the Welsh teams? Lovells Athletic with Ray Cross in goal and George Lowrie at centre forward; Barry Town and Llanelly were always keenly contested games, and ones which I like to think were never lost.
To be continued…..
