An old Olympian still hopes for a return to the big stage

Stockton waits for Wembley. Tommy Thompson, England amateur international and the town’s last Olympian, fears that he won’t be able to join the jamboree.

Tommy, 80 a couple of weeks back, has the muscular disease polymyalgia and is also in the middle of radiotherapy for prostate cancer.

“They’ve said they can cure the cancer. I’m down from 15 tablets a day to four but it might be a bit soon for Wembley,” he says.

The polymyalgia proves problematical. “One day I was walking nine miles with the dog, the next I couldn’t get out of bed or even wash my face. The worst bit is that I can’t get down to play bowls with my mates.”

What if he were to receive VIP treatment? “I wouldn’t want a fuss,” he insists. “I had enough of the fuss when I was playing.”

Born in the Tilery area of town – “Tilery was lovely, you had nothing but neither had anyone else” – he was a 22-year-old railway locomotive cleaner and Stockton’s left back in North Eastern League days when called into Great Britain’s 1960 Olympic squad.

In the first match, against Brazil in Livorno, he broke his leg after a tackle by Gerson. “I urged the medical people not to move me because I knew it was broken,” he once told the column.

“They didn’t speak English, didn’t even strap my legs together, lumped me off like a sack of coal.”

He turned down second division Boro for first division Blackpool, made 154 appearances, very much likes to be beside the seaside – “it’s sunnier, honest” – but retains a soft spot for home.

At 60 he was still fit enough to complete the Great North Run – “a good time, at least I thought it was, anyway.”

Several old friends rang about Stockton’s born-again triumph last Saturday. “I never played at Wembley, though I watched Blackpool there a few times. They’ve done absolutely fantastically; it’s a reason to get myself right.”

Among Tommy Thompson’s running mates along the golden oldie mile was former British and Commonwealth heavyweight boxing champion Brian London, another North-East lad happily settled in Blackpool.

Born and raised in West Hartlepool, the man they called the Blackpool Rock will be 84 in June. They bumped into one another in a café a few weeks back.

“He was taking the mickey in a friendly way, telling me I was no good as a player,” Tommy reports. “I thought about hitting him but decided against. I want to live a little while longer yet.”

Last week’s report on the semi-final first leg extolled the draught Bass at the Sun Inn on Stockton High Street, once said to sell more of the big-headed brew than any other pub in the land. Though we couldn’t make the second leg, the rest of the troops enjoyed another considerably bibulous day in the Sun. It may have returned to its previous zenith.

At a time when it was almost easier to break into the Bank of England than for a Northern League footballer to jemmy a way into England’s amateur international side, Tommy Thompson was joined in the 1960 Great Britain squad by Laurie Brown of Bishop Auckland and Arnold Coates of Evenwood Town.

The great Laurie, who scored twice in the 4-3 defeat to Brazil and died in 1998, was also Bradford Park Avenue’s manager in 1969-70, the club’s last Football League season. Coincidentally, PA are seeking footage – “the longest of long shots,” they concede – of a pre-season friendly with West Auckland, apparently shot by the West manager.

Should the long shot somehow hit the target, contact Dave Bussey at ontimedave@googlemail.com

Arnold Coates played subsequently for his native Crook Town, then joined a strong North-East contingent across the border at Queen of the South, scoring 28 goals in 48 games. He died in 2013, aged 76.

Arnold particularly liked to recall a New Year’s Day match against Dunfermline, before which team manager George Farm – a former colleague of Tommy Thompson’s at Blackpool – had imposed what might be termed Hogmanay handcuffs.

Players were confined to their hotel rooms, with orders that none should be given a pass key.

They got out through the windows instead, enjoyed what the Scots call a good swallie, managed a glass-half-full point. Stone cold sober for the rest of the season, they never gained another.