Everton History

Soccer Boss? You”re Joking — I Want to be an Undertaker

This article, adapted from the original, published in Lancashire Soccer Annual (1970), underlines Ray Wilson's candour and honesty — and his pride at having played for Everton FC

By Ray Wilson (abridged from Lancashire Soccer Annual, 1970, by Rob Sawyer)

Ramon ‘Ray' Wilson, the doyen of left-backs in the 1960s, passed away on 15th May 2018 at the age of 83. In a field, occupied by the likes of Warney Cresswell and Leighton Baines, Wilson is widely regarded as the finest Number 3 to grace Goodison Park. He is also revered by Huddersfield Town and England team supporters who were lucky enough to see him play.

His elevated status at Everton is all the more remarkable for the fact that he only moved to Merseyside in what was felt, at the time, to be the autumn of his playing career. He went on to participate in two of the Empire Stadium's greatest days in 1966 — for both club and country — but suffered disappointment with Everton two years later. He was known, and respected, for his unruffled demeanour at left-back, positional sense, excellent left foot and a devastating burst of pace, which was used to nullify the threat of opposition speed merchants. A knee injury effectively ended his Everton career but he continued to play for Oldham Athletic in Bradford City — before leaving football to work in the family firm of undertakers. He kept a relatively low profile and, in later life, lived with Alzheimer's until his death at the age of 83.

This article, which I have adapted from the original, published in Lancashire Soccer Annual (1970), underlines Wilson's candour and honesty — and his pride at having played for Everton FC.

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One familiar face has been missing from the England line-up since those days of glory in 1966 when the World Cup was won, the face of Everton full-back, Ray Wilson, now captain of Oldham Athletic, in the depths of Division Four.

For Ray, now over 35, and with his eyes on the future, the attraction of turning to management, a magnet which, rightly or wrongly, has drawn many in the past.

He has other plans, plans which shock many football supporters as Ray tells us about his past, his present and his future:

It all began in Huddersfield, when I was 16 and taken on as a ground staff lad with Huddersfield Town. We did our training at night, helping the tradesmen and cleaning the boots, doing work around the ground during the day. Then, when I was 17 I signed professional forms for Town and spent a year in the juniors before going in the forces to do my National Service, when I was 18.

During all the time I was in the forces I never had a game with Huddersfield. I joined up in March and by the time I had completed my initial training, the season was finished. Then I went to Egypt, came back as another season was ending. By the time my two-year stint was finished they had almost forgotten me at Leeds Road - but they had to retain you while you were in the forces. When I finished my National Service, I was given a trial and signed on until the end of the season, then I was signed for the following season.

I had always been an inside-forward, but when I came back to Leeds Road I found that they had plenty of inside-men, and on my first morning back I was given a run-out as a full-back. I was willing to have a go at anything. A year later I was still messing about at wing-half or inside-forward; then, when I was 22 I started to settle down and play at full-back.

It was seven years after first playing at full-back that I went to Everton. I did thirteen years at Huddersfield and yet when people talk about Ray Wilson they talk about “Ray Wilson of Everton”. In fact, I think I tend to think of myself as an Evertonian, though I suppose after 13 years with one club, I should think of Huddersfield first. But it was because everything seemed to happen to me in the five years I was at Goodison: two FA Cup medals and, of course, the World Cup.

I tried to get away from Huddersfield a few times, starting when I was about 24. But it was always the same old story: “We need you here”. In those days if you wanted to get away from a place badly enough you had to refuse to sign, then go without money. But as wages were on £20 maximum, and most players were living in a club house, not many did this. I had family and there was the possibility of being thrown out of the club house, so I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be at Huddersfield for the rest of my career. Then, when I reached 29, I bought a house and decided to settle down. Only three months after I bought the house, Everton asked Huddersfield if they would sell and they said “yes”. They probably thought that I only had a couple of seasons left in me.

When I got over to Goodison it was like a different world. It was as if I had only been playing at the game all my life — as if I had been pretending to be a professional footballer. It was a terrific change going to Goodison. To start with, the training was different. The training we did at Huddersfield at the time was only good enough for a warm-up at Goodison. And the whole outlook was more professional, with more discipline. It wasn't just a Saturday afternoon game to Everton; it was all or nothing, which is the way that most big clubs look at things — and the only way in which they survive. The players treated me well and I settled in very quickly. Nobody seemed to bother much about my age but there were a few letters in the papers asking what they (Everton) were doing signing somebody of 29. Some people said I was a panic buy. But I didn't think I was near the end then, because I am pretty small and have never carried much weight. I had looked after myself reasonably well. I have never been one for stamina; I was always good at short sprints in training but when it came to the slog around the pitch there were some players who could leave me a quarter of a lap behind.

Harry Catterick is a very hard man, and discipline is a big thing with him. A lot of people don't like him, I suppose, and a lot of players don't like him at certain times, but there is no getting away from it, he knows the way to be a manager. He's not in the limelight a lot, like Bill Shankly. But Bill is an extrovert whilst Harry is an introvert - this is the main difference between the two of them.

If you are lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time then you can become a star. Johnny Morrissey is underrated. In the last couple of season, they have been saying that he has come on and really turned into a player but I think he has just been the same for the past three of four seasons. He is a great player but not a star, because, probably, he did not fit into the public eye. Alan Ball is a great player; he is cocky, happy, always on the go. In fact, he is just the same off the field as on it. He is bubbling over all of the time. When he came to Everton no-one knew about the move. This is the way that harry Catterick works, of course. You don't read about it in the papers — suddenly he was there, then you read that it had happened.

The Merseyside Derbies are tremendous occasions. The atmosphere is terrific. If you are a neutral it is much more of an experience than a Cup Final at Wembley. When I played, everyone seemed to be a yard faster — they probably were in actual fact (everyone would give a better performance).

I never really felt any tension in the World Cup, probably because there was always something going on. First we went on tour, then we went to Lilleshall, then the competition started. We had games every two or three days and in between there were other games on television or at Wembley, which we watched. I think that I felt worse about the FA Cup, but, even then, it seemed unreal. You go through the earlier rounds, then it comes to the final and it is a terrible anti-climax. To me, it is the earlier rounds which make the final. After the final has ended I have found myself saying, “I wish I could play it again.” I think it is more of a spectacle than a game and you don't appreciate what is going on around you.

It may sound a silly thing to say, but although being on the losing side (in a cup final) is a terrible thing, I was glad that it happened to me. Two victories, two winners' medals. Then, in 1968 we lost and it was a terrible feeling. You feel terribly lonely, as though you have let everybody down. After the game you have the national anthem, the presentation of the cup, then the medals and you seem to be standing round for an eternity. All you want is for the ground to swallow you up. But I am glad that I have experienced it as now I know what it is like - I know the feeling both ways.

I spent a season in Everton reserves after a knee injury, then I came to Oldham. It wasn't much of a come-down really. It was a relief, really, because I wanted to play first team football. I think that is the thing which keeps you going. I still feel that I can do a bit, and that I can hold my own reasonably well, without making a fool of myself. It doesn't matter to me where I do it, so long as I can play first team football. This is the thing which keeps the enthusiasm going — I felt it dropping when I was in the reserves at Everton and I suppose that it may happen one day at Oldham. So it is a matter of trying to keep in somebody's first team, even if you go non-League.

I don't think that I'll ever be a soccer manager, in fact I'm certain that I won't. I'm not frightened of the challenge (or being a manager), or that I won't have the ability to do it, but it's just not there in me, to want to do it. My father-in-law is in the funeral business and I am trying to pick up the administration side of the job. So I hope that it will be Ray Wilson — Undertaker, one day.

Source:

Lancashire Soccer Annual (Kaye and Ward Ltd.) — edited by Tom Tyrrell

Thanks to Richie Gillham (EFC Heritage Society) for unearthing this publication

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