Binty's Dead - Long Live True Sporting Friendships

I admit to writing this with a lump in my throat as I have just returned from the funeral of dear Colin Bint. He was only 70, and taken from us way too early by cancer.

As the eulogy at the New Southgate crematorium recorded, Colin joined Crouch End Vampires in 1960 aged 20 and played football for 21 seasons before taking up squash and tennis at Oakleigh Park, and latterly golf at Muswell Hill Golf Club, where the wake is perhaps still continuing as I write on this beautiful sunny afternoon.

Perhaps it is ironic that, given the love of sport which we both shared, we did not in fact meet through sport. Our 19 year age gap prevented us meeting on pitch or court. No doubt I may be somewhat lucky that we didn’t. Although Colin emanated nothing but warmth in social environments he was a doughty and determined competitor on the field.

As his then team-mate, Ernest Stone recalls, perhaps the highlight of Colin’s footballing days occurred when representing the Vampires first eleven against a superior team led by Richard Hutton, son of Sir Len (former England cricket captain). Despite the Vamps being outplayed in every department by a better team, the relatively diminutive Colin held the line so manfully that the Vampires managed a draw. As Ernie was shaking hands with Hutton afterwards and paying tribute to Binty, Hutton acknowledged Colin’s tenacity: “Dirty little bugger – kicked me all over the park”.

My introduction to Colin was by dint of sheer luck. In 1986 when I was looking both to buy a house and join a golf club, I was also addicted to squash. I did not want to waste precious time on long journeys to and from a golf club, given how time consuming golf is anyway. So I was delighted to find a place in High Barnet within a stone’s throw of Old Fold Manor, an impressive parkland links.

My neighbour was Roger Copeland, and he knew Binty through the Vampires. Roger was a North London Cricket Club man whose spirit is captured by the Brylcreem cricket adverts, one of which still hangs in the local pub. Binty was a builder and carpenter and helped Roger (and Di) rebuild and remodel the house next door to me. Soon I was to be invited to our local community centre – the Monken Holt - to drink primarily with Roger and Ernie but often Colin would join us.

As the Vicar testified today at the Crematorium, Colin considered himself something of a raconteur and had a tendency not only to tell many tales, but sometimes to string them out for so long that he would forget their endings. Fortunately Roger, Ernie and I had heard them all so many times previously that we usually managed delicately to nudge him over the line.

I ask but one question to you readers and our community leaders. If we continue selling for housing our playing fields and built sports facilities how many men of this calibre will emerge in the next generation? How many true friendships, born and nurtured through amateur sporting mutual love and respect will develop?

The answer, I suspect, will be very few. How hollow will then ‘Big Society’ and similar clarion calls sound?

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