Back when I started watching Watford (circa 1990) they had a forward called Paul Wilkinson. He cut a striking figure, with his mullet and moustache combination, and during these early years he was a favourite of mine. He looked like this:
This period also coincided with my first ever football video, the season review of 1989/90, featuring several Wilkinson goals, beautifully described by the inimitable commentary of Mike Vince ( “Wilkinson’s arriving and plays WELL!”). I soon learned to idolise this leggy, tashed goal machine.
But, although I can claim some youthful enthusiasm for the Hornets’ hit man, I never had my own exclusive Paul Wilkinson knitted toy to worship. did, though. His nan knitted it for him. Now, I’m not saying a knitted toy can single handedly cure the game of all its ills, but, come on, have a look at this and try to resist a smile. You can’t. This is what football needs, a positive image for fans to identify with.
Hail the saviour of English football. Hail!
