The man who would be loved

Nick Morrison looks at the rags to riches tale of George Reynolds.

AS the helicopter swooped down towards the makeshift landing pad, the chairman could have been forgiven for allowing a self-satisfied grin to sweep across his face. After all the doubts, all the obstacles, all the criticism, he was finally on the brink of getting the recognition he deserved.

When the chopper landed and he walked out onto the pitch, it was to a chorus of adulation from the fans packed into the magnificent 25,000-seater stadium, chanting his name in appreciation of his role as saviour of their beloved club. After graciously acknowledging the crowd, he stepped into the lounge to officially declare the stadium open, in front of the massed ranks of the media.

This was to be his moment of greatest triumph. This was to be the speech he had waited all his life to make. All his life he had been written off, told he would never amount to anything. Even when he proved a success in every field he chose, there were those only too eager to take the shine off his achievements with their petty carping. Now, in the midst of this gleaming monument to his success, he had the chance to cement his triumph.

And when his stirring oration had reached its climax, there was just time to savour the stunned silence of the Press - just the latest in a long line of shallow critics - before the rest of the room erupted in a spontaneous standing ovation. Now, at last, there could be no doubting his ascendancy over his detractors.

Unfortunately for George Reynolds, this part of his autobiography is pure fantasy, at least for now. But there is no doubting that his is already an extraordinary story.

From his exile to an approved school at the age of eight - punishment for persistent truancy - to his rebirth as a popular hero by rescuing Darlington Football Club from bankruptcy four years ago, his rags to riches journey has become the stuff of legend. But the path has not been easy: instead it has been littered with the spite, jealousy and downright hostility of those who refused to share George's vision.

And even though the tale is a familiar one, it still contains surprises, not least that he was 'sold' to Besford Court residential school by Sunderland education authority for the princely sum of £100. He says he discovered the bill of sale on a return visit to Besford, once he had made enough money to fly in by helicopter, and, perhaps knowing that he would otherwise be dismissed as a fantasist, the document is reproduced in his book.

The black and white reality of a child being effectively sold into forced labour - with Besford Court able to work their purchase for up to eight hours a day from the age of eight, and 12 hours a day from the age of 12 - somehow seems more inhuman than all the tales of degrading treatment and brutal punishments meted out to the boys.

By any standards, recovering from such a start in life to become the millionaire owner of a football club is some achievement, particularly when it is along the route chosen by George, where crime features prominently.

But his self-portrait during his years on the other side of the law is not an especially flattering one. He may have been loyal to his friends, and those who did him a good turn, but he was not averse to threatening those who crossed him, and did not confine his strong-arm tactics to fellow criminals. Councillors who believed they were doing their duty in protecting the interests of their constituents may well have been terrified to receive late-night phone calls from a man who seems to have believed that intimidation was an acceptable way to do business.

And many of the incidents in George's account of his life seem to belong in a film or a cancelled-after-one-season sitcom.

There was the time he found himself in a lion's enclosure when he scaled the wrong wall; the time he jumped off a cliff top into a river to escape the police, just like Butch and Sundance; the time rain washed the paint off a greyhound disguised as a loser as it surged into the lead; the time he robbed a post office only to find the owner was hard-up and ended up stacking the shelves with goods stolen from another shop; mistaking a dead person's ashes for coffee. As he says in relation to just one of the more unbelievable episodes: "That might sound far-fetched, but it happened".

It's also clear how important are the material signs of his success. It cost him £7m to build his mansion, Witton Hall in County Durham - a figure he reminds us of several times - and mentions in passing a £1m shopping spree in Harrods. But, despite telling us that "money was no object in getting the house right", he had to sell off his helicopter and £7m yacht to fund the building work.

George also takes great pride in appearing in The Sunday Times rich list, his only complaint that his wealth was undervalued, by some £200m, he says.

But it would be churlish to begrudge his flaunting of his success, if nothing else as an eloquent reply to all those who said he would never amount to anything, particular the teachers who labelled him "educationally sub-normal" in school reports.

You might also think that, having made his fortune through legitimate means, it would be possible to put his criminal days behind him. Indeed, he quotes his third wife, Susan, approvingly when she complained about how he was always described as a "millionaire former safe-cracker". But he is not averse to using his past to add a touch of glamour to his life, with repeated references to his days depriving other people of their hard-earned money.

Susan's outburst came at the same Darlington fans' forum where she provoked a walk-out from the team after saying "It is not unknown for games to be thrown." That obviously still rankles, as George attempts to defend her remarks, albeit unconvincingly. However hard George tries to persuade us otherwise, throwing a game is not the same as throwing it away: while the former is deliberate, the latter is just careless.

But the treatment George suffered as a child has, not surprisingly, made a lasting impression on him, most noticeably in his need to feel loved. It was the adulation from the Darlington crowd on his first appearance as the saviour of Feethams which seems to have persuaded him to take over the club.

His ego may not seem to need a boost - he describes himself at one point as a "convicted safe-blower, ex-merchant seaman, millionaire entrepreneur, maker of money and utter genius" - but that does not stopping him craving approval.

But alongside this is a complete inability to understand why others do not share George's view. He is baffled when the adulation of the fans turns to hostility after a poor run of results - why aren't they more grateful for what he has done for them? And anyone who disagrees with him can only be doing it out of spite, and not because they hold a different point of view.

The media, naturally, gets much of the blame, for not following the Reynolds line a little more closely - he even repeats the well-worn line of 'what other people know about football' followed by a blank page - but residents who objected to the new stadium also feel the lash of George's tongue. If only they could see the bigger picture, they would be bound to agree with him.

And so it is for anyone who stands in George's way. The tactics may be a little different from the days of late-night phone calls, but the reaction is still the same: if you oppose him, it can only be out of spite, or envy, and not because of a genuinely held, but contrary, view.

The unfortunate side of this from George's point of view, is that some observers feel his relationship with the fans has deteriorated to such an extent that the fantasy he describes in his closing chapt er is likely to remain just that. A travesty in some ways, when you look at what he has tried to do for the club, but in other ways the inevitable result of a failure to brook criticism meeting a heightened expectation of success.

In the end, it is perhaps his teachers at the hated Besford Court who have had most impact on George's life. When he left at 16, to return to Sunderland, his leaving report said that, although George had good practical skills, he "has shown himself to be pretty unstable in character and is not averse to petty theft". He has come a long way since then.

*Cracked It! The story of George Reynolds (John Blake, £16.99