Jack Walker’s statue is located just beyond the Blackburn Rovers club shop, between the home end and the main car park. There’s not much detail of who Jack Walker is and what he did for his local club, where he poured in a substantial portion of his personal wealth. His money helped Rovers win a Premier League title, before they began a steady slide to their current position toward the bottom of the second tier.
I first visited Ewood Park, home ground of one of football’s most famous clubs, on 18th February 1989. Blackburn Rovers v Brentford in the FA Cup fourth round. I think that where the statue and car park are now, was then rows of poky terrace houses. Immediately behind the home terrace was a cobbled street, with tram rails still in situ. It was like a museum piece.
My father-in-law and I had found a pub in the middle of land covered by crushed brickwork. All the slums around it had been flattened, the ground levelled out with half-enders and small bits of rubble. Smoking inside pubs was a thing then and we walked into a fog of cigarette smoke. Brian was under-whelmed, identifying that there was a clear swirl of cannabis in the air. He felt a little unsure about being in there, only being persuaded to stay by the teeming rain rushing down the street gutters.
Brentford were in Division 4, Rovers in Division 2. The Londoners’ fans had clearly enjoyed a few drinks on the way up and were having a jolly time, having made the pub their own. Brentford’s football ground then, Griffin Park, was famous for being marked by a pub at each corner. Brentford fans were and still are, widely acknowledged as being good-humoured, friendly types, something they reinforced in that pub.
Brentford were to continue enjoying their day, as they over-turned the home team two-nil. At the time, it was hailed by the BBC as a giant killing. Brentford thoroughly deserved it.
Jack Walker built the old stadium up to hold 31,000 people. Blackburn only sustained crowds near that level while in the Premier League. Now days the crowds average under 14,000. It’s as you were when I first went.
This Saturday was my third visit and the first without rain. I queued with the locals outside the Ewood Park WMC for its 10:30h opening. I was welcomed into conversation by a former employee of the Watney Mann brewery chain. David originated from Oswaldtwistle, a town I never knew existed.
I asked what it was famous for and learnt Oswaldtwistle was the home of the inventor of the Spinning Jenny, one James Hargreaves (1720 – 1788) and of David’s mate, Eric. Eric was a poet, who wrote an elegy for Arthur Wainwright, author of fell-walking guidebooks, illustrated by pencil drawings of the routes and the terrain covered.
Eric, submitted his poem to the Wainwright Society, having got a nod of approval from David as to its suitability, then heard no more. Such is the way with poetry submissions the world over, thought Eric, until he received an invitation to a memorial service in Blackburn cathedral, which was to mark the centenary of Wainwright’s birth.
Lo and behold, Eric was to read his work, which was also re-produced at the back of the order of service. Eric entered the building as a relative unknown, then left as an acclaimed poet. David was clearly very proud of his late-friend.
Our talk touched on other matters, breweries we have known, a bit of footy and the Ewood Park WMC football card.
The football card is a method of fund-raising featuring a piece of card, a number of football team names and modest cash prizes. To enter the lottery, you just have to pay in £1 to claim one of the teams listed, one not already taken. When all the team names are taken, the winning name is drawn from a pint mug.
David’s table of friends all chip in, claiming a team each and agreeing to pool any winnings. The next table along the way had a similar arrangement. Rangers (Glasgow), was the name drawn from the beer mug and to much hilarity, David’s syndicate picked up the winnings. It was their third consecutive win, greeted by the observation, “We drink here for free!”
The match today had been moved forward two and a half hours to feature as a lunch-time kick-off by SKY TV, English football’s paymasters. For those travelling from Pompey on the day, this meant an early start. Blackburn from Portsmouth is 266 miles / 339 km. In unison with the home fans, the anthem ‘Sky T.V. is F…ing S…’ echoed around the half-full stadium. Proper football fans, those who go to the matches, know they are if secondary interest when TV broadcast contracts and schedules are discussed.
The game was pretty dull. Pompey had possession of the ball most of the time, without ever threatening to score. Neither goal-keeper made a save in a match that finished 1-1. Pompey’s goal was a deflected shot. Rovers netted from a deft header that bounced in off a post, with a couple of minutes play left.
I returned to the Ewood Park WMC for a pint while the crowd cleared.
It was just getting dark when I made it back to Seán’s. We stayed in, talking about music, listening to it transmitted through the TV, on which a one-hit wonders series was showing. Seán had thankfully dismissed the idea of going to see a tribute band covering The Eurythmics material.
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CLP 07/03/2026
Journey of Words 
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