Early Pools History revealed!

Believe it!
By The Shaggy Dog
September 4 2002

Welcome to the first article from A Shaggy Dog - in which he delves back into the archives to tell the truth about a pivotal moment in the history of the town of Hartlepool.

I've been a Pools Fan for many years, longer than most can remember, and I've been asked to write some of my memories down for something called a "Web Site". I'm not quite sure what one of them is, but I think it might have something to do with Spiders - though how exactly you get them to weave the words I'm not sure. Anyhow, here goes.

Some people might think that it's only recently that we've had players from Foreign Parts playing for us, but there's a long tradition. Back in the late 20s we had this Egyptian fellow who was pretty good, and even before that there was some Norwegian bloke who played for us in the old North-Eastern League. I understand he wasn't a great success as he insisted on playing in his Viking Helmet; whenever he tried to head the ball it burst on one of his horns.

But before even that, before even there was a team called "Hartlepools United", folks from abroad have come to have a crack at playing in the town. My researches have found some incredible historical documents about possibly the first visitors to Hartlepool to play in a competetive game.

The year was 1785, and Football in those days was still a game that involved two teams of about 150, and scoring a goal happened every couple of years. Usually someone would try and stuff the ball up their jumper and run like the clappers towards the goal post; one of these was on the Headland, and the other was somewhere in the area of Brenda Road. The other team would try and stop him by rugby-style tackles, blows to the head with sticks, and on one notable occasion with a musket shot to the backside.

The teams would play in different colours, Blue with a white sash for one team and all red for the other. However in this particular year there'd been a problem with the Kit Manufacturers, and so the players had to improvise and just wear something that looked the right colour.

One of the players that year was a mysterious character who had blagged his way onto the Blue team after arriving on a Sailing Ship. No-one was quite sure what he was doing there, but he claimed his name was Julius Vandervecken and that he was Dutch. He and his crew seemed friendly enough, and after he had shown the captain of the Blues his secret tactic he was welcomed with open arms.

The Blues had been wandering around smugly for a while, which annoyed the Reds no end. When questioned about the reason for their confidence, they just grinned annoyingly and tapped the side of their noses. It was all very strange.

The day of the match dawned, and a motley crew of players began to assemble in their makeshift kits. Especially admired was Vandervecken's blue French Uniform, which he claimed to have won in a game of cards. Much curiosity also surrounded a large sack that he was carrying over his shoulder; it seemed to be moving and some very peculiar noises were coming from it.

The Umpire threw the ball into the air, and one of the Red players caught it; however before he had a chance to stick it up his jumper a figure in blue moving like lightening snatched the ball from his grasp and promptly shinned up onto the roof of a nearby cottage. It was a monkey! In a replica of the Dutchman's uniform, the chimp chittered away angrily as it danced about holding the ball. Vandervecken hared away in the direction of the Brenda Road goal, and then turned and whistled; the monkey promptly ran across the roof towards him and then leapt down and headed towards it's master, neatly dodging the astonished red players.

The reds gave chase, but the monkey was too agile; as soon as anyone other than Vandervecken got near it the chimp would climb up a nearby tree or building until it's master whistled. Someone did try knocking the Dutchman out with his stick, but the wily Sea Captain feigned unconsciousness before running onwards and whistling once more.

This continued for the best part of an hour, until the Brenda Road goal was reached. To make things harder, a goal had to be scored by placing the ball through a loop of rope hanging from the post. Vandervecken stood near it while his team mates prevented the reds attacking him; whistled, and took the ball from the monkey. He placed it through the loop of rope just above his head, and turned to his victorious team mates.

It was only after a few minutes of celebration that anyone thought about the monkey; and that's when they discovered the tragedy. Trained to go after the ball, the monkey had leapt after it as Vandevecken placed it through the loop; it had caught the edge of the loop and it's weight had caused the loop to tighten, around the poor chimp's neck. By the time anyone noticed this, the monkey was already half dead; there was nothing they could do for the valiant creature.

Vandervecken was distraught; not by nature a cruel man he swore an oath that he'd never play again. (He later swore another oath, and one that's apparently remembered even today: it was about rounding the Cape of Good Hope I believe.)

Possibly the most unfortunate aspect though was that on that particular day a travelling writer was in the town. Not knowing anything about the game, he arrived on the scene just as they were cutting the monkey, still in it's mock French uniform, down from the Goalpost. It was much later that the story he wrote about this came back to the people of the town; and by that time it was too late to change the scurrilous lies that had circulated across the nation. And ever since then, people have believed that the good people of Hartlepool hanged a monkey as a spy when in fact it was simply a tragic accident at a football match.