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With ease and power the gleaming new sports car flashed along the straight West Country

road. Roy
Race, the popular skipper of First Division Melchester Rovers Football Club, grinned as he pressed
his foot harder on the accelerator pedal. What did I tell you, Blackie? Isnt she a beauty! the centre
forward exclaimed to his friend Blackie Gray. Thats the understatement of the year, Roy! Wow! This
is more like low level flying than motoring!

The duo sped on, a red bullet traversing narrow Cornish lanes. Then it happened, Roy! Look Out!
Blackies voice sharpened in sudden alarm, as without warning a cyclist rode out from an adjoining
farm track. Only the amazingly swift reflex action, which had made Roy one of the finest centre-
forwards in England, averted a serious accident. He braked hard, spinning the steering wheel in the
same instant. As a result the speeding car did no more than clip the back wheel of the bicycle. The
cyclist, although sent head first over the handlebars, landed fortunately on the thick grass verge.

As the car shivered to a halt, Roy and Blackie leapt out and raced to the prone youngster. If hes
seriously hurt, Ill never forgive myself! Roy yelled between pants. Blackie, as ever the voice of
calm to Roys enthusiasm, thought more rationally, You cant blame yourself, Roy. He should have
halted at the main road instead of coming straight on the way he did!

The cyclist had not moved, while there was no sign of obvious injury, he was unconscious and
breathing slowly. Roy lifted the still figure in his muscular arms and carried him back to the car,
Tuck his bike behind the hedge. Im taking him back to the inn with us. Then well get hold of a
doctor.

Roy and Blackie along with all the other members of the Melchester Rovers team were in Cornwall
on a special training holiday for the stiff match against Brymouth City the following Saturday. They
were staying at the Smugglers Rest and fifteen minutes later they had reached the cosy old inn with
their unconscious companion. Manager Ben Galloway made room in his own bedroom, clearing the
spare bed. Roy placed the limp cyclist carefully and propped his head up with a pillow. Is there
anything in his pockets to tell us who he is? Ben asked, Not a thing, just a few coins, a photograph
of him, but no papers.
Blackie entered, Heres the doctor already. He must have set out as soon as he got our telephone
call. The doctor pushed he way through and opened up his bag, arranging various instruments on the
bedside table. A quick examination proved that the patient had no serious physical injury. Following
that the doctor applied a restorative to the young mans lips and consciousness gradually returned to
the stranger.

The doctor put his stethoscope back in his bag as the cyclist sat up slowly. Youve not suffered much
hurt. Not much wrong with you anywhere, good muscles, sound heart, sound wind too. The doctor
observed as Roy and Blackie scanned the young mans lithe physique. What are you an athlete? the
doctor asked.

But the stranger did not seem to hear. The look in his eyes betrayed nothing, not even intelligence.
They were like the eyes of a dead man set in a living face. Roy sensed that the young man was in need
of a kind word, Whats your name, old lad? the star footballer enquired. Trying to answer, his faced
skewed in bewilderment and genuine fear, I cant tell you, I dont remember!

Following standard procedure the doctor questioned to patient in an attempt to stimulate memories.
But after five minutes without success the doctor turned to Roy, Blackie and Ben, Some temporary
pressure against the brain must have shattered his memory. A brain specialist might be able to do
something. But it would help if you could find some link with his past to jolt his memory into action
again.

For now there was no more the doctor could do. He gave Ben some of the restorative in case of a
relapse and warned the football men to keep the stranger awake until natural sleep took over. Roy sat
with the young man making small talk, although the accident was not his fault, the centre-forward felt
a responsibility to the man with no memory.

Roy and Ben spoke quietly, There must be somebody near here who knows him or is related to him.
Roy said, Lets advertise and circulate his description, along with the photograph, in or two local
newspapers. Ben agreed, it was not in the Melchester Rovers spirit to let down a man in need or to
back out on a challenging situation. All right, Roy. Ill book him a room here at the inn and well
hope something happens before we leave for Brymouth on Friday.
Time was getting on and the footballers were booked for supper at 7pm. The man without a memoery
joined the Rovers in the lounge as the athletes drank ginger beer and nibbled on traditional pasties.
But still he had no recollection of his past or present. However talk of soccer tactics and great matches
did seem more familiar than local landmarks and Cornish customs. Roy was beginning to believe that
their guest was not from nearby and may well be a footballer of some sort. After a superb supper and a
couple of songs, led by inside-left Jim Hallett on his squeezebox, the men retired. Roys brain would
not rest, he had a mystery to solve.

***

The following morning, the Melchester Rovers occupied themselves with goal shooting practice on
the local football field. The stranger, now feeling none the worse for his mishap, watched from the
touchline and Roy again noticed the keen interest in his face. Roy jogged over, There are some spare
togs in the dressing room if youd care to join in. The man without a memory, dressed smartly in
tailored three-piece suit jumped at the chance, Thanks! Theres nothing Id like better. Its ages since
I played football! At least I think it is!

As the training session went on, the Rovers discovered that the man without a memory was anything
but a learner at the game. Again and again he puzzled Tubby Morton in goal with shots that curled just
under the bar with deceptive speed, neither fast nor slow. At a break as the Rovers took drinks and
lemons, Roy conferred with his experienced team-mates the wing halves Hughie Griffiths and Buster
Brown, That fellow with no memory is a football natural! Id like to see him play in a real match!

Roy raced across the playing field, as Ben Galloway appeared from the tea hut, Ben, I know a
footballer when I see one! he said excitedly, If ever a man deserves a trial, this fellow does! The
great Rovers manager always showed great trust in his captain and this was no different, All right,
Roy. Well give him a chance to show his paces against the Perracombe Swifts.

The Rovers were due to play the Perracombe Swifts, the local amateur side, on Thursday evening.
The Swifts had formed an annual tradition of inviting a big professional club from up-along for a
challenge match, this year it was the Rovers turn. For local football supporters it was the event of the
season and a bumper crowd was expected.

Once training was over, Ben ordered rest and the Rovers took part in various friendly card games, a
spot of pub skittles and scoffed more of the famous Cornish pasties. There was little mischief to be
had, although Hughie Griffiths risqu ventriloquists doll act had the Rovers players in fits of
laughter, before the land lords wife objected to his particular brand of humour. Jim Hallett played the
Rovers off to an early night with the mystery of the man with no memory no closer to being solved.

***

On Wednesday morning, the man without a memory took part in one more training session,
impressing the entire Rovers team. Ben Galloway explained what had been planned, he wanted to see
whether the strangers outstanding talent on the training field could be replicated in a real match.
Theres nothing Id like more than to turn out for the Rovers. But supposing I let you down?
Galloway was sensitive to the youngsters concerns, Dont fret yourself, lad. This match against the
Swifts is only a friendly game. Roy piped up, And you wont let us down!

As they walked briskly back to the Smugglers Rest, Roy could see how proud the stranger was at
being invited to play for the Rovers. He gave captains advice about keeping a cool head, listening to
instructions and above all to enjoy the game. The man with no memory and still unnamed, was
certainly keen and definitely fit enough. He led the team back into the lounge, showing no signs of
stiffness after a tough practice. The land lords wife was waiting for them, Oh, Mister Race! Theres
a gentleman to see you. Its down to your advertisement in the newspaper. she said, holding up a
copy of the local rag, Ive shown him into the parlour, its nice and private in there.

Roy was excited, perhaps a part of the great mystery was about to be unveiled. Youd better come
too. Maybe this chap knows who you are. Roy and the stranger, accompanied by Ben, entered the inn
parlour. A tall man, in an ill-fitting dark blue suit and bowtie stepped forward eagerly. Ralph! Ive
been so worried, wondering what had happened to you! Roys new friend stared back blankly,
Ralph! Dont you recognise me? You own father! The man without a memory did not change
expression, Im sorry. I dont even remember if I had a father.

Roy took the dark suited man aside and explained what happened. The man introduced himself as
Charles Canning, making the man without a memory Ralph Canning. At least I can call the stranger
by a name now, thought Roy as he led Mister Canning back to the lounge where Ralph was examining
some of the trinkets that decorated the dresser and window sills. He seemed particularly interested in
an antique ship in a bottle, perhaps Ralph had been a sailor.

The footballer stepped back, allowing father and son space to speak. Charles spoke first, Ralph still
not showing any signs of recognition or confidence in the man supposed to be his parent, I didnt
realise it was as serious as this. Dont worry Ralph, after we get back to Teignmouth Ill get the best
medical advice. Are you ready to leave? Ralphs face finally turned, No! I cant leave here until
after tomorrow, you see, Im playing in a football match.

Charles was not impressed with his sons reluctance to return to the family home in Teignmouth, a
port town some thirty miles east. But Ralph explained, with great difficulty, just how much he wanted
to play in the special match against Perracombe Swifts. Mister Canning tried again to convince his
son to change his mind, but had to eventually relent. The two shared a pot of tea before Charles
declared that he would have to get back to Teignmouth that afternoon, Very well then, since your
mind is made up, I have some business to attend to, which will keep me occupied all day tomorrow.
But I will call on you early on Friday morning. Mister Canning drove off at speed, leaving Roy to
console his son, who now had a name, but was still without a memory.

Well the outlook is brighter, Ralph. You know your name and after you are back with your father
your memory may start to return. Ralph watched the car disappear from view and sighed, I expect
youre right. But all the same I shall be sorry to say goodbye to the Rovers.

***

Quite a crowd gathered the following day to watch the Swifts play the Rovers. The famous First
Division side lined up in their usual formation, with only Ralph Canning an unfamiliar member of the
eleven: Morton; Williams and Roberts; Griffiths, Ryan, Brown; Canning, Gray, Race (captain), Hallett
and Dawson.

The local teams game was based on kick and rush lines. But on an uneven and tight pitch, such
tactics paid immediate dividends as the amateurs grabbed an early lead. The centre-half disposed
Blackie Gray and cleared straight up the middle. The high ball took a funny bounce over the untimely
jump of left-back Bob Roberts. The surly Lancastrian let out a groan as the local centre-forward slid
in to volley past Tubby Morton in the Rovers goal. 1-0!

Ralph Canning was playing on the right wing and he had had little of the play. Late in the first half,
Hughie Griffiths gained possession in a firm tackle. The right-half nudged the ball to Ralph, in space
on his wing. The new player trapped the ball neatly, swerved deceptively to avoid the outstretched leg
of the Swifts left-half. He sprinted down the line, waiting until he had drawn the left-back and centre-
half out of position. Ralph sent in a perfect centre, which Roy Race slammed first-time into the net.

The players celebrated with handshakes and the half-time whistle was soon blown. In the second half
the Perracombe players tired quickly. Unable to keep up with the professionally drilled Rovers, the
Swifts defence was run ragged. Within ten minutes of the restart Blackie Gray netted a fine goal,
heading in a cross from Tom Dawson on the left wing. The outside forwards gained most, as the
sluggish Swifts backs struggled against the speed of Dawson and Canning. Ralph created chances for
Roy and inside-left Jim Hallett, but both were squandered. However, just seconds before the final
whistle, Ralph picked up a loose ball just inside the Swifts half. In a blaze of speed, the newcomer
sped past the left-half. The left-back neared, Ralph tapped the ball to the backs left and raced past his
right shoulder. It was a dazzling move that had Roy Race applauding. The claps turned to wild cheers
as Ralph caught up with the ball, dragged it back from the goal-line and curled in a special left footed
shot that bounced in off the far post. The goalie had no chance and the Rovers had won by three goals
to one.

As the crowd poured onto the field, Ben Galloway jogged alongside the new right winger, Ever
thought of playing football seriously, Ralph? For a living I mean! The man without a memory was
trying his best not to get carried away with the excitement of a good victory, I dont know. This game
has been fun. But it was no proper test. I doubt I would be much good against professional players.
Ben was impressed with Cannings honesty, but he had seen something special in Ralphs play. On the
walk back to the inn, Roy was tasked with persuading Ralph that he could make a successful career
out of football. Our outside right is on the transfer list. He wants to join a northern club to be nearer
his family. I reckon youve got the stuff in you to fill his position with the Rovers when he leaves.
What do you say Ralph? The man without a memory was understandably not filled with confidence,
It needs a lot of thinking about. And Id like to find out something about myself first.

As Roy and Ralph neared the Smugglers Rest they saw some of the Rovers talking to a squarely built
stranger with a deeply tanned face. Bob Roberts, the left-back, was speaking loudly, Here comes the
fellow you want to see, Roy Race! Hes the one who put the advertisement in the papers. The tanned
man came hurriedly forward, but his gaze was fixed firmly not on Roy, but young Ralph Canning.
Ralph, my son! Ralph!, My, but its good to see you! The man, dressed sharply in a flashy orange
suit and fedora, was excited and his eyes showed genuine concern, You must come back to my hotel
at once! He said with an urgency most similar to that shown by Charles Canning the day before. As
the tanned man approached a nervous Ralph, Roy grabbed an orange arm firmly, Hey! Not so fast!
Another chaps already been here to claim Ralph as his son, then how the heck can you be his father?

The tanned man was so taken aback he could not answer, Roy turned to the man without a memory,
who was staring with lack-lustre eyes. Perhaps you can settle it, Ralph. Which is really your father,
this chap or the other one? Ralphs eyes were focused on the orange-suited man, but his shoulders
were shaking, the young man was beyond confusion. Im sorry, Roy! he stuttered, I dont know. I
cant even remember what my father looks like.

Roy was convinced by the tanned mans natural reactions. He had been so staggered and disappointed
by Ralphs response, that Roy even invited him into the inn where the Rovers were staying. Ralph and
the tanned man sat at a table together, as the Rovers mingled with locals in the bar area. Dave
Williams and Bob Roberts the full-back partners played darts, while Jim Hallett and Tom Dawson
were fully engaged in a chess battle. Ben Galloway, Roy and Blackie watched the newcomer carefully
as he sat silently alongside Ralph. There was little similarity between the two men, Ralph was slight,
the tanned man was broad shouldered. Both were dark, but were different in complexion. Their voices
were very different, Ralph spoke well, he had been to a good school, perhaps even university. But the
tanned man spoke gruffly, as if he was trying to hide his natural accent. But Roy noticed a similarity
in body language, the way the men sat, the way they sipped their tea. Blackie spoke up first, Theres
something darned strange going on here; Ralph cant have two fathers! Ben nodded, Why should
both men claim the same chap as their son? That was the question that bothered Roy most. But there
was no rational answer, Roy could only continue with the questions, How are we to know which one
of them is on the level?

The tanned man overheard Roys final remark, Perhaps I can prove to you that Im Ralphs real
father. Ive got a photo of us both together. Its back at my hotel, The Bear in Trecurno. Roy was
excited, the mystery was beginning to unravel, any clue was a good sign, even if the photograph did
not prove a relationship, it would disprove the orange-suited mans claim on Ralph. Okay! Well
come that way on our training run tomorrow morning. You can show it to us then! Roy persuaded the
tanned man to let Ralph stay with the Rovers for the night, before they would be reunited the next day
in Trecurno, an idyllic fishing village just five miles west of Perracombe.

***

On a bright Friday morning, the Rovers team set off on a pre-breakfast training run. Roy had arranged
to meet the man who had convinced him that he was Ralphs real father at his hotel in nearby
Trecurno. Just five miles separated the two picturesque villages and the team would run in formation
along the cliff path with the sun on their backs. The men were in high spirits, except for Ralph who
was understandably nervous. Roy stuck close to the men without a memory offering small talk of a
football nature, recalling some of the great matches he had been a part of in his six years with the
Rovers. Ralph was fascinated by the tales, but noticeably switched off, his eyes losing their sparkle,
when Roy was silent.
As the players took a speedy descent into Trecurno, Tom Dawson perhaps the most rapid of the team
ran ahead and hurdled the final stile at the bottom of the cliff path. The others gave chase and soon
they were all, with the exception of Tubby Morton, gathered on the forecourt of The Bear Hotel on the
centre of the short promenade. The hotel keepers daughter led Roy, Blackie and Ralph up to the
room, but the pals were in for a shock, for the room had been turned over; bedding strewn across the
floor, drawers pulled out, their contents of shirts and underwear thrown about the place. Roy yelled,
My stars! Look at all that! Theres been a heck of a scrap in here! Blackie was calmer, Hes not
here. Whats happened to him?

The hotel keeper was sent for, but he could not help very much, I dont know what happened to him,
sir. he told Roy, who was disappointed. But not for long as another clue was revealed, He left an
hour ago with two men in a car. They seemed in a hurry. Roy paused for thought, he hummed, He
had a whale of a fight with them before he went. Its my guess hes been kidnapped! Leaving the
hotel keeper to report what had happened to the police. The Rovers set off back to the Smugglers
Rest. The tide was now far enough out to run along the exposed sands, which was a good work out for
the calves. As some of the Rovers kicked a ball as they ran, Roy and Blackie were playing detectives.
Blackie reviewed the clues so far, then reached an unsatisfactory conclusion, It gets stranger than
ever, Roy. Two chaps come along and claim to be Ralphs father. Then one of them is kidnapped.
What does it mean? Roy was frustrated with the lack of clues, so chose to focus on something he
knew a lot about, Search me, Blackie. I only hope it doesnt spoil Ralphs football!

Ralph ran stony-faced alongside the pals, without a memory he could contribute nothing to help solve
a mystery that he had brought to the Rovers. Charles Canning had promised to return to the
Smugglers Rest that morning, he had not shown up. The tanned man had left too, there was no real
evidence to suggest he had been kidnapped. Perhaps both men were twisters, chancers who saw an
opportunity to gain from a man without a memory. They had now fled after finding Ralph under the
protection of the Rovers or with nothing worth stealing. For Ralph that was the most logical theory,
one that was shared by Ben Galloway the Rovers manager, a man who liked to avoid drama and
uncertainty.

But when the team had reached the Smugglers Rest, Ben had another surprise for them. He had
received an urgent message from the Football Association regarding the international match due to
take place at Wembley on the Saturday. The first choice outside right, Charlie Forrest, had been taken
ill and a replacement was sent for. Dick Stokes has been chosen at the last minute to play against
Scotland in an international. That means I want you, Ralph, to turn out for the Rovers in tomorrows
league game against Brymouth City. It seemed that the man without a memory was being tormented
with shocking news and nothing more, Me! Play in a league match! Gee what a break!

***
Surprisingly the rest of Friday passed without incident. To the relief of their manager, the Rovers were
able to relax and enjoy the clean sea air, before a fish and chip supper that was just reward for the hard
training Taff Morgan had put them through during their few days in Cornwall. The Rovers were to
travel by couch to their away match with their famous West of England opponents the next morning.
But Roy was not keen on leaving his new sports car at the Smugglers Rest as it meant returning by
taxi to collect it after the match. Then he would not get home to his Melchester digs until the early
hours of Sunday, so he made a request of his manager, Ill take Blackie and Ralph in my car
Guvnor. Well give you half an hours start and still beat you to it. Ben reluctantly agreed, hoping
that Roy and Blackie would talk tactics with the newcomer to the side, All right, Roy. But dont take
any risks! he demanded.

And so, an hour later as Roy sped towards Brymouth the pals spoke of nothing but football, Thisll
be the chance of my life, Roy. said Ralph, Hope I wont let the Rovers down! Roy was supportive
as ever and ready to offer advice, You wont let us down, boy. Forget the crowd, concentrate on
playing good football and youll be okay. Ralph was visibly calmer, but as the car skimmed round a
tight bend a short man decked out in red and yellow Melchester Rovers rosette and scarf signalled
wildly, shouting, Stop! Roy brought his car to a screeching halt and the scruffy football fan
approached, Youre Roy Race arent you? he said with a sense of awe, Sorry to bother you, Roy.
Were Rovers supporters on the way to see your match, our engines died. Can you help us get it
going? Ever ready to help a Rover in need, Roy leapt into action, Why sure, well do what we can.

Dave Williams and Bob Roberts, the Rovers full-back pairing were both expert mechanical
engineers. Over the winter the duo had taught Roy and Blackie enough tricks of the trade, that the pals
considered themselves expert mechanics. The prone car was parked up underneath a tree on the
opposite side of the bend to the point where Roy had stopped the sports car. The pals were soon busy,
Contact-breaker points seem okay, Roy. Anything wrong with the carburettor? Roy, with head under
the upturned bonnet, replied, Not so far, its getting petrol all right. They were so occupied that they
did not see what was going on the other side of the road. Dont make a squawk! barked a larger but
just a scruffy man in Rovers colours, Get back into that sports car, quick! he ordered Ralph. For the
men were not Rovers supporters at all. They were bitter enemies of Ralph and the three footballers
had fallen for their trap.

Suddenly the calm country air was shattered by the roar of Roys powerful sports model, Hey what
the heck! yelled Blackie. Roy was startled, but soon worked out what was happening, Theyre
pinching my car and taking young Ralph with them! Its another kidnap! There was no time to hang
around, the pals had to get the thugs car started. Weve got to go after them, Blackie! Well make
this crate of theirs go or bust! Momentarily forgetting that Ralph had been violently kidnapped and
his life may be in danger, Blackies mind automatically returned to football, Sure! Rovers need
Ralph for the match!

Blackie took one last look at the engine, he questing eyes suddenly spotted the trouble, Look! The
battery lead! Its been deliberately loosened! Roy watched in excitement as Blackie attempted to
tighten the nut, Smart work, Blackie! Well fix it and be cracking on their trail quicker than those
darned crooks reckoned! In moments the lead was clamped home and the motor fired at the first
touch of the started. Then Roy and Blackie were hurtling down the road, taking many risks that would
have had Ben Galloway in tears.

Hold onto your eyebrows, Blackie! Ill catch those thugs, even if I make this bus take off! Roy
shouted above the thundering engine, as the pals passed a sign showing it was just nine miles to
Brymouth. Youll be lucky, this tub cant hold a candle to that humdinger sports car of yours those
crooks have pinched! But the chase was leading away from Brymouth where they were due to play
football, towards the town of Calbury. Then luck took a hand, in the pals favour this time. As they
rounded a bend, the gleaming red sports car was in clear sight, just a couple of hundred yards ahead,
There they are! yelled Blackie, Held up at that level crossing! Roy looked in the direction of the
train, But the trains going through. The gatesll be open in a moment. If only we can get there in
time!
Roy was right, already the last coach had thundered past and the signalman was whirling the gate
control wheel. The thugs were already manoeuvring the sports car between the slowly rising gates,
they must have spotted their blue banger behind and were attempting another quick getaway. Theyre
moving again, Roy. Once theyre under way theyll leave us standing! But the blue car had the
momentum and Roy was not going to slow down, They havent got away yet, Blackie. Be ready to
take over the wheel!

While Blackie took control, Roy put both his arms out of the window and heaved himself onto the
roof of the car. For a brief moment, the sports car lost speed as the driver changed gear. That gave Roy
his chance. Showing his superb athleticism, the footballer leapt into the air aiming to land on the back
seat of his own convertible sports car. For a brief moment, Roy was poised in space and then landed.
Showing great agility, Roy wrapped his legs around the neck of larger thug who was driving. The
driver struggled, but Roys athletic arms forced him to turn the car towards a thick hedge. Roy
shouted aggressively, Pull up! Pull up, you rat! Or Ill break your wrists!

The thug took his foot off the accelerator and rammed it onto the footbreak. The car juddered to a halt,
but the drama was not over. The smaller, scruffy thug, wearing the Rovers rosette reached inside his
jacket. He pulled a revolver, Right, mister clever Race! This is where you get yours He pointed
the gun menacingly into the face of the Rovers captain. But then the gun dropped to the ground as two
strong hands gripped the thugs throat and began to squeeze. By this time Blackie had pulled up,
unnoticed and had joined in the fray. The inside-right was throttling the gunman, No you dont, you
scum! Roy knocked out the larger man with one strong right-hander, And try that one for size!
yelled the Rovers skipper.

The highly trained soccer stars were far too tough. The crooks piled into their own car and went
roaring off. Blackie placed a comforting arm around the shoulders of Ralph who had been hiding
behind the hedge, Thank the stars we rescued you, Ralph! Why did those fellows snaffle you
anyway? Ralph wore the same puzzled look that never seemed to leave his face, Thats what Id
like to know. But arent we going to be late for the match?

With an urgency only reserved for footballing matters, Roy raced to the sports car and leapt into the
drivers seat, Too right we are, ten miles to go and only ten minutes to do it in. The Roversll be
wondering where we are!

End of Part 1

Story adapted from Tiger 1959, by Storky Knight

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