The Sage had a deep mistrust of newspaper men. Rumour had it that he had even refused to watch the Pathe newsreel of Yeovil’s victory over Sunderland at the Gaumont, on account of the fact that the flea pit had once shown Citizen Kane. I never got to the bottom of it but it was something to do with the Western Gazette and a falling out over the spelling of his name for the runner up spot in the Yeovil and District Chrysanthemum competition.
The article implied the Sage was a bit of a misery and whilst I admit he was drawn to the darker side of football philosophy, I feel a duty to put the record straight. Underneath the frustration, there was a green and white heart of hope. So last night, I padded out to the back shed and found a programme that has lain buried in the depths of the old cardboard box. The programme for a match that even now makes my fingers tremble as I type these words – Stafford Rangers, 1972, the Semi-Final of the F. A. Trophy. The last time we saw the gates of Wembley, only for them to be slammed shut in our faces.
The world was in turmoil, tears cut down my face, as I raced past the onions and smashed through the chrysanthemums. I kicked the shed door open. The Sage looked up from his seed trays.
I pulled the wooden draw open, took out the box and opened it. There they were my Yeovil Town subbuteo team. Tiny plastic figures lovingly painted in thick globs of green and white airfix paint. I looked at them. A tear dropped on Len Harris. I picked him up and hurled him into the carrot patch. Ron Bayliss followed, Chris Weller careered off towards the potatoes and Tony Clarke (who I doubted was now ‘for England’) hit the parsnips. The Sage watched silently puffing on his pipe, as one by one the team was scattered across the Pen Mill allotment.
Now there was only one left.
I picked up Johnny Clancy.
‘Johnny Clancy going to?’ said the Sage, placing his pipe on the fruit box.
‘Not Johnny Clancy,’ he pleaded.
He covered the seed with a rich clump John Innis Number 1.
He poured water across the dark earth from an old tin can.
He patted the soil gently.
For the first time in a couple of days I smiled at the ridiculous thought.
I stared at Johnny Clancy.
I shook my head. I put Johnny Clancy carefully back in the box.
Other Entries In The The Wisdom Of Sage Seth Section.
Other Entries By Jon Seal.