STILL coming back for more, we return to former Hartlepool boxing champ Teddy Gardner – and to a wholly improbable discovery in the blue corner of the internet.

At last, too, we have the story behind that wonderful picture of Gardner, Len Shackleton and Bishop Auckland footballers Bob Hardisty and Seamus O’Connell with a group of excited schoolboys. More of that, even a bit of golf and cricket, anon.

The guy on the right of the pub pictures is undoubtedly the immaculately attired Harold Macmillan, prime minister from 1957-63 and later 1st Earl of Stockton – but who knew that he liked a pint, much less lived in peace with his pipe?

Wasn’t that a slightly later incumbent of No 10, with whom he shared a forename?

The original Supermac was much more a gentleman’s club man, president of the Carlton and a member of Buck’s, the Beefsteak and the Turf.

White’s, he once observed, had a membership of 75 per cent gentlemen and 25 per cent crooks – “the perfect combination for a club.”

The images are courtesy of Hartlepool Museums Service, their caption suggesting that they were probably taken in 1977 after the Spotted Cow pub in Musgrave Street had been renamed the Square Ring in Teddy Gardner’s memory.

But who’s the cigarette smoking bald guy on Supermac’s right? Isn’t that Teddy Gardner himself, and if it isn’t could it even be Jack London – another Hartlepool champ – who died in 1963?

Like a gallant old heavyweight, this one still has legs.

A FURTHER search for links between Harold Macmillan and boxing reveals a pretty timeless Prime Minister’s Question Time from June 1959.

Dr Edith Summerskill, a familiar antagonist, had wondered if Macmillan were aware of the medical profession’s concerns over what she would never have called the noble art.

Mrs Bessie Braddock, with whom few would have wished to go 10 three-minute rounds, rose in orthodox defence. “No boxer is compelled to box. It is completely voluntary.

“If it is a question of looking at the things which hurt people, there are very many other things that could be looked at to advantage that kill people off very much more quickly.”

Macmillan bobbed and weaved, shadow boxed brilliantly. Dr Summerskill, so far as may be read between Hansard’s lines, never once laid a glove.

THAT famous foursome were photographed at a 1955 sports evening in Bishop Auckland town hall, co-organised by King James I Grammar School sports master Lez Rawe whose death, at 98, we lamented earlier this year.

It’s recalled by Allan Wilkinson, then captain of the school football team, who with others clad in their red-and-white hooped athletics shirts helped steward the occasion.

The lads in the picture, he says a little dismissively, were just first formers.

Shack, who came with Sunderland team mate Ken Chisholm – “a very funny man,” Allan recalls – played keepy-up and brought the house down. There was also a head tennis exhibition.

“I don’t recall Teddy Gardner doing any boxing, but he was definitely there. What exactly it was in aid of I can’t remember, but shows like that were popular in the years after the war.”

Like many more, Allan also recalls the fearsome grammar school headmaster Neddy Deans, a man who (shall we say) made an indelible impression on many.

Edward S Deans was a musician, and not much given to sport. “Had he been there,” says Allan, “he’d not just have scared the pupils and all the masters but Teddy Gardner himself.”

THE year afterwards there was a follow-up sports event at the Jubilee Hall, featuring local golf professional Bert Gadd, a man of remarkable ability.

A nod to former Hartlepool footballer Alan Goad, the column a fortnight ago used the headline Good Goad. This one might only slightly be varied.

Born in 1909, Gadd became a professional at 14, assisted his brother Charlie at Brancepeth, near Durham, won the French Open in 1933, the Irish in 1937 and was twice in the top ten in the British.

In the 50s and 60s he was simultaneously pro at Bishop Auckland and Brancepeth, where he also retained association with the nearby DLI barracks.

“He was a brilliant golfer, would undoubtedly have been in the Walker Cup team but for the war but wasn’t universally popular because of his short arms and deep pockets,” recalls retried shoe shop owner George Robinson, his frequent partner.

For a golfer, he was also a very big man. “I can still hear the car springs groaning when he got in the passenger seat,” says George, 82.

His clubs were inscribed “Gaddfly”. When he retired, collectors’ items, he gave them all away.

Shortly before he died, in 2003, he produced an autobiography. It was called To the Brink of Fame.

SO to King James Cricket Club, their alma materdom now tenuous but bearers of nourishing news for the grass roots.

The Darlington and District League side long played at Bishop Auckland’s rugby ground, moved to Etherley when rugby grew and this summer have been sharing with Witton-le-Wear.

Next season, we hear, they’ll be homing at Ingleton – between Darlington and Barnard Castle – where the village side folded nine years ago and the pitch has been fallow since.

The parish council has used a bequest fund to rejuvenate pitch and pavilion, the locals have been greatly welcoming, the other man’s grass is looking newly green.

“We’re looking forward to many happy years playing cricket at Ingleton – a home at last,” says club chairman David James. “We’ve attended a function in the village and will have the presentation night in the parish hall.”

Mr James, it should be added, is thought not to be relation of the good king who endowed Bishop Grammar School in 1605.

Players are arriving for both league and social sides, more welcomed. The club will still carry the King James name but possibly reference to Ingleton, too. They’d also appreciate a groundsman, a roller and a mower. Plain Mr James is on 07836 546763.

AMONG those properly pleased about cricket’s return to Ingleton is former player Stuart Laundy – who last weekend had further cause to celebrate.

Opening for Barningham, Stuart – a journalist on the Teesdale Mercury – carried his bat for 115 in the win over the redoubtable Raby Castle, meaning that he’s scored centuries in his teens, 20s, 30s, 40s and, now, 50s. Can anyone claim six decades?

John, his dad, had 34 Darlington and District summers with Haughton before himself spending 18 seasons with Ingleton, retiring when he was 63.

Stuart was just 12 when making his Haughton debut – against Ingleton, for today’s column is seamless. It was before all-day opening, Ingleton had totalled 200-or-so when, around 5 50pm, the youngster joined his dad with Haughton on 55-9.

At first the opposition gave the bairn a few lollipops. As the clock edged towards six, however, his dad ran him out. “He knew his priorities,” he said.