Howard’s way

IT may not be said that Steve Howard is the Prodigal Son since prodigal – contrary to popular belief – means not “contrite” but “wasteful” and, waste not want not, Big Steve has done very well for himself.

Nor may it be said that Tow Law Town Football Club killed the fatted calf on the occasion of his long and eagerly- awaited return, but there was a tremendous buffet, not least the corned beef pie, for all that.

Steve had played up there in 1994- 95, the season that the Lawyers improbably won the Northern League championship, and has subsequently made getting on 700 senior appearances for Hartlepool United, Northampton Town, Luton Town, Derby County and Leicester City.

Though a Chester-le-Street lad and very proud of it, though still a frequent visitor and keen to settle back in the North-East when finally he retires, until last Saturday he had never once returned to that wind-blown County Durham hillside.

When he did, warmly welcomed, he could have been forgiven for hardly recognising the old place.

The sun shone quite gloriously.

Glen Moan, a former team mate, surveyed the Ironworks Road ground. “I think it’s the first time I’ve seen grass in Tow Law,” he said. “I always thought the pitch was white.”

TOO true. The old cliche about there being nothing new under the sun may soon itself have to be revisited. This was getting on 80 degrees.

There were young ladies in next-tonothing, or next-to-nothing-much, or next-to-nothing-much-given-timeand- place and there were young men in even less.

There were tables and chairs on the pavement outside The Pantry and outside the Newmarket, though the sandbags piled by the pub suggested that none in those parts is very easily fooled.

“It’s the first time I’ve been here and it’s not been snowing or blowing a gale,” said Warren Pearson, another 1990s player.

“Don’t worry,” someone replied. “It will be by teatime.”

Tropics of conversation, there was talk of top coats and of Torremolinos and of John Hopper, goalkeeper in the championship side who, when things got a bit quiet, would desert his post to take shelter beneath the corrugated iron stand behind the top goal.

Dear old John. He’d not have known the place, either.

STEVE HOWARD is now 36, a nice man of whom Cestrians remain mutually proud. So small as a young ’un that they played him sweeper in the town’s junior sides, he was in Sunday league football when recommended to Tow Law.

“Someone told me it was cool,” he says. Someone was guilty of understatement.

“I remember one game which had been called off by we got there. We were having a pint in the clubhouse and someone came in to say we’d better get home sharpish. We went outside and there was already a foot of snow on the ground.”

His father ran a roofing business.

Steve worked there and subsequently, six days a week, digging up roads for Kenton’s.

John Howard remembers the first time he drove the lad to the wilds of west Durham. “I think he thought I was taking him to the back of beyond.

Mind, he might have had a point.”

Steve had already had YTS experience at Sunderland, had a trial at Middlesbrough during Gordon Mc- Queen’s time but was told that times were hard and went from Tow Law to Hartlepool, managed by Keith Houchen, instead.

“I remember my first pay slip, I thought there must be some mistake,” he recalls. “I was earning far more digging roads for Kenton’s. I’d taken a massive pay cut to be a professional footballer but I didn’t care. I’d have played for nothing.”

He scored 32 goals in four seasons – “a great place to learn your trade” – joined Northampton for a club record £120,000, helped Luton to two promotions in five seasons with 103 goals in 227 appearances, was transferred to Derby County for £1m in 2006 and in his first season was top scorer with 19 goals to earn the Rams promotion through a Wembley play-off final.

At Leicester, as everywhere, he quickly became a fans’ favourite – “a powerful, uncompromising front man with an icy nerve in front of goal, he became an instant hero,” says the City website.

“I think it was because I’ve always worked hard,” says Steve. “Even when I was having a poor match, I’d still work my socks off.”

Recently, however, he has been a squad player, more appearances off the bench than anyone in Foxes’ history.

He also scored in his only appearance for Scotland B, a Jocks and Geordies connection not immediately obvious. By then, of course, he’d grown a bit – 6ft 3ins and getting on fourteen-and-a-half stones. Uncompromising and then some.

The highlight, he supposes, was that play-off final, the only regret never playing for Newcastle, despite rumours of the Magpies’ interest. “I take my little lad to Newcastle matches whenever I can,” he says. “I still fill up every time I play there.”

HE’S back to be installed as club president and to open the renamed Steve Howard Sports Bar, nee clubhouse – “top honours” say posters scattered round the town.

Lifelong Lawyers fan Mary Hail – “Remember Mary? How on earth could I forget her” – has somehow acquired a week-old Leicester Mercury cutting that claims he has been released by City and is on the verge of signing for Notts County.

Steve denies it on both counts. “My departure is mutual, I want to play football, not sit on the bench, and my agent says there are three or four clubs in for me.”

All that’s certain is that he wants to carry on scoring goals. “Everyone I meet tells me just to keep playing as long as I can. I’ve been incredibly lucky with injuries, the first one of any sort about three years ago, and I just love playing football.”

He’s already a partner in a North- East property company, has no thoughts of management, is certain he’ll head homewards. “Maybe when finally I stop playing professionally, I’ll get another game for Tow Law.

That would be a bit special, wouldn’t it?”

THE Lawyers’ newly-formed Under-13s are playing Lumley, Chester-le-Street way. Steve’s the Tow Law manager for the day, his nine-year-old son Evan – “far better player than I was” – coming on as a second half sub. “Howard 9,” it says, familiarly, on his black-and-white striped shirt.

A lovely, enthusiastic, greatly sporting match ends 2-2 and goes to penalties, which Tow Law win. The kids fall upon one another in the sort of abandoned heap now familiar in the professional game but which, at 13, might stunt their growth.

The sun’s still shining, Steve’s still smiling, still signing. They give him a splendid, specially-made album of a continuing career. Outside the tar’s melting, molten Ironworks Road. “Oh God, aye, I’ve missed it, I don’t know why I’ve been away so long,” says Steve. “There always was something special about Tow Law.”