Football was my first love. 
At primary school, I was already in the 1st X1 aged 8. I was - it may be hard to believe - looking at my ragged and aged body - quicker than quick. And mostly, I scored a lot of goals.
We moved to South Benfleet in 1959, a dump of place but it was just edged by Canvey Island, our nearest neighbours, as the annual winners of the Eurovision Competition as  the dump of all dumps.
In my headmaster interview for a place at South Benfleet primary school, he could talk about nothing except soccer. I was in. 
On my first day, a Mr Crighton - who drove a fearful three wheeler as though he was in pole position at Monte Carlo - summoned me to see him. ‘Now boy’ he said ‘ I hear you’re a bit of a quickie. Report to me tomorrow morning at 8.15.’
I arrived at 0815. The man-boy asked if I was left or right footed. I said I was right footed. He then placed balls as penalty kicks and asked me to see if I could score (he also doubled as Willie Duff, the Second.) I scored ten out ten with my right foot and one out of ten with my left. 
His analysis was that I should come to school at 8.15 every morning until I had scored ten out of ten with both feet. In his view God had given me two feet and I was letting him down personally if I just used one of them. I detected a kind of army background to his cause. Given my family had had seven generations in the Army and I was already being signed up my father I just may have had spotted that in his DNA. You didn't cross Mr. Crighton.  
Anyway, aged nine, I was selected to play on the left wing all season in the 1st X1 and in due course he said he would move me to centre forward when I was ten and eleven. At nine, I had played for SE Essex and began to dream about being a professional footballer.
Mr. Crighton was a genius. I will never know who, how or why he had gained so much understanding about this game of games. 
We played our school fixtures in supra competitive leagues on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings We won most of our games by 7, 8, 9 or 10 to nil. We were unbeatable. 
Here’s why.
You may have to be of a certain age to understand this next bit. Mr. Crighton had a reel to reel tape recorder with a 200 yard flex as he needed access to an electrical point. Bear with me. He recorded the game. He gave a commentary throughout. By Monday morning he had edited it and by lunch time we were crowded into his classroom to listen to the key points: how we had actually let in a goal, how we’d made critical mistakes or missed a scoring opportunity. He always wanted us to score and score. If that wasn’t enough, he had also put out his Subbuteo pitch and as he played the commentary he moved the finger-flickin’ footballers into their exact positions and showed us where we should have been. He was awesome. 
From then on, I kept a record of my games, describing my goals, where I had hit the ball in the penalty area, which foot I’d used with an extra asterisk when it was a lefty. I was Mr.Crighton Mark 2. There were two of us utterly obsessed. 
Dear Reader, my Dad then moved us to Leigh-on-Sea! I had to change primary schools. I was done. Mr. Crighton asked me back to play in a game against my old team. We won 3-0 and I scored a hat-trick at centre forward. Mr. Crighton was not best pleased. All that work he’d put in on me......He wished me well. He thought too that I would make it as a professional footballer because I was so quick. I took my 11+ and passed: miracles happen. I filled in the form for Southend High School for Boys because they played footie. My Dad was having none of it. He said Westcliff High School for Boys had a better academic record. I said they played that wretched game called rugby. I pleaded. He’d have none of it. I re-pleaded. I mean it wasn’t as if he’d ever seen me play. What did he know?
For the next five years from 11-16, I played footie at lunch-time on our school field and on Saturdays I would play in an U16 soccer league and for my school at rugby when games were in the afternoon. All that time, I still felt soccer was my calling. I was okay at rugby and captained the team here and there and played for Essex and Eastern Counties. I was better at long jump and was rated no.1 in the country. 
I never forgot Mr. Crighton. I kept records of all my sports. I marked the referees and drew pictures of where I had taken the conversions or penalties. Tries came thick and fast. Then, you’ve guessed, we moved again. We were always moving. This time it was to Colchester and Colchester RGS where I captained the XV and had an England trial. I had a serious asthma attack during the game which I had not expected. I’d had asthma since I was eleven. It must have been the pressure. Until, a yoga teacher taught me how to relax, I started to carry my spray in my shorts during games for the next seven years. 
Forever and a day, I have wished I’d been allowed to play footie. 
David's website - http://www.derekwyatt.co.uk/
Memory added on July 3, 2021
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