Mr. Clemens

Possibly in 2006, I was at Belle Vue, walking towards the pits, with my nephew. As I walked around, out of the corner of my eye, to my right, I saw a kid sat on a wall. Just as I was in line with the kid, he got up and dashed across right in front of me. There was no doubt he'd done this intentionally. I said to my nephew, 'Did you see what that pig ignorant little beresford did just then?'. My nephew smiled and said, 'do you know who that pig ignorant little beresford is?' 'No,' said I. 'It's Tai Woffinden', said he. 'I don't care who he is,' said I, 'he's still a pig ignorant little beresford'. He was hailed as the new wonder kid in those days, one who could do no wrong. Having followed the sport for 40 years I have seen wonder kids come and go without making the mark they were expected to do. After that episode at Belle Vue, at the time and since I have never written a word about him. I thought I would wait and see what he could and would do as time went by Since then, of course, the lad has gone through trauma, trial and tribulations, which mould the character and temper the personality of those who endure these experiences. The fact the lad won the world championship last night, and elevated himself 'amongst the gods', indicates he has got to grips with his temprement, come to terms with the flaws in his character, overcome them all. As such he will have made his family proud non more so than his father, who no doubt is smiling down on him as we speak Well done lad, there is nothing like redemption and such a trophy, as you have now, is the living embodiment of that redemption.

You'd expect them to do the decent thing and give it to the Englishman

You are held in great esteem by a lot of people RIchard. All of those words spoken in support of you are the truth of the matter. You might never know what people really think of you and what you do, if not for situations like this. For example, I come to Scunthorpe to help out at the meetings when I can. I have said before that sometimes I have to motivate myself to actually get in the car and drive down there. One of the main reasons I do that is because I think to myself Richard needs a bit of help with what he's doing. He needs that piece of help so that what he is doing can take place, in the proper manner it should. I am sure there are others who go there to help, with the same type of thought in mind. Thus are all the pieces of the jigsaw fitted together to create the circumstances that riders can hit the track and do their thing. Onwards and upwards - as Saint Paul said - (among others) - shake the dust off your feet and don't look back

Scunthorpe Speedway's 74th Saturday 17th November The meeting that never was – or who’s been digging holes in my track?? The word was that it was on - but it wasn’t - but never mind eh!!!! It’s always an adventure going to the Eddie Wright Theatre of Dreams. Twice, on the way down I almost found myself involved in 2 crashes on the motorway. First was when a transit van type almost chopped the front end off my car, on the M18, as they decided they didn’t want to be in the lane that led off down to the A1 turning. They wanted to be in the same lane I was, so they cut across the front of me, instead of pulling round behind me and overtaking. Second was up off the slip road leading onto the M180, as you go round the roundabout to the right. The piece where the road is in two lanes put siphons into one lane and you turn left onto the M180 proper. The car from the left coming down M18 from the north decided to come up their slip road – straight across the roundabout without stopping, almost running into the car in front of me and my car too. I believe even now they pulled out without stopping because they thought they’d got the right of road. But they didn’t. But not to worry Sunny Scunny was only a few more miles away, I knew I would survive to wave a red flag another day. I drove down under the triumphal arches that adorn the Eddie Wright Theatre of Dreams and there were muck heaps everywhere. There was half-a-dozen muck heaps on the left that filled the car park with mountains of soil it was like an Everest of muck. There was muck on the track too, piles of slimy mud everywhere you looked. What a mucky old place it was the Eddie Wright Theatre of Dreams. But not to worry eh!!! The sun was out the sky was blue, wouldn’t be long before there would be racing too, and little old me, with his flag of red, watching people, going round the bend. But it was soon evident that racing wasn’t going to take place. There was something seriously wrong with the track. The track staff was doing their best to see what they could do about the problem facing them. People were thinking that it must have been heavy rainfall causing the problem, turned out that wasn’t the case. As far as I am aware it was because there were ruts – holes in the track that weren’t apparent to those concerned till the meeting was almost ready to start. Rider safety always being paramount there was no choice but to call off the meeting. Everything was sinking in a sea of mud. But was it a wasted journey, no it wasn’t. I met old friends there, we chatted about this and that. No one I could see around me was really complaining about the lack of a meeting. People seemed to realize that something had gone wrong. There are always positives in these things. It’s a lesson learned that is embedded in the mind, that leads to the phrase ‘it won’t happen again’. It was something that everyone could have done without. The truth is though it won’t happen again unless something catastrophic happens that no one can for tell. There is that extra blessing too, there was plenty of muck there to fill in the holes. As the say ‘every cloud has a mucky lining’!!!!! If nothing else, being at the Eddie Wright Theatre of Dreams did give me the chance to congratulate Richard face to face regarding the Premier League Championship win. This is a job well done by a man managing a team to victory, an important step forward and up the ladder for Richard. Extra special because he has had to follow in the footsteps of Kenny Smith, who was a charismatic character, none of us who knew him will ever forget. Richard has charisma, not the type that Kenny was known for. Richard’s charisma is of the more understated variety. He is a man with a dynamic personality whose sole desire is to drive things forward and to get things done. The meeting today was intended to be another example of driving things forward. Some might thing that it all came to a juddering halt, perhaps it did, but sometimes coming to a halt can prevent a disaster occurring. It’s a lesson learned and I am more than certain it won’t happen again, because Richard is all about professionalism. Kenny Smith has secured his place in speedway history. Richard Hollingsworth will secure his place too. Not because he won a league championship and perhaps more to come in the future. What Richard is about is building something that will last, building something permanent that will benefit riders and supporters alike for years to come. Winning that league championship was a quantum leap for Richard. I had no doubt, while I was looking at that celebration picture, on the front of the Speedway Star, that Richard while basking in a certain ‘glory of the moment’, was thinking to himself if I can be part of this achievement, then all the other possible achievements, I have in mind, can become realities too. I don’t doubt that Richard will keep on striving to achieve all that is possible. Today was one of those days, the day itself will soon be forgotten, but the lesson learned Richard will never forget.

Hello Richard, I will use this vehicle to offer you my congratulations on winning the league title. I have not said anything about it before, as usually when I do it tends to put 'the mocker's on things, so I thought I would wait for a positive result before mentioning the play offs. Sounds as if it was a good meeting and both teams rode well. So congratulations to both teams for making it the event it should be. Now having said that, I want to get down to the really important issues involved with Scunthorpe speedway at the Eddie Wright Theatre of Dreams. Ever since this new thread appeared on the BSF I have been contemplating that phrase 'New Improved Format'. I have contemplated it from a number of points of view and finally come to the obvious and only conclusion to what it actually means. What the 'New Improved Format' actually means is this :- Next time I come to the Eddie Wright Theatre of Dreams - the cafe will be open and I will be able to get myself a bleeding sausage sandwich and a cup of coffee!!!!!! Once again Congratulations Richard and all those involved at Scunthorpe Speedway. King Kenny will be proud. I still have the 'Order of Service' (program - if that's the right word). I was going to file it away with all the speedway memoribilia I have. I keep it in a drawer where all my current paperwork is. When I am leafing through it looking for something, there is his face looking at me. I say hello to him as I have done just now. I also said 'what do you think of that then mate'? His look said "Now for the Elite League Title, when we do it we will have the 'Full House'" All being well, I will see you week on Saturday - take care!!!!

After I posted it Gary - it did strike me that there might be a lot of paperwork involved So perhaps not

I don't mind standing there for the duration Richard. The way I see it is - If I am going to die somewhere It might as well be on the centre green at Sunny Scunny than anywhere else Hope to see you sooner than later

Brilliant!! Cheers Montie glad you liked it Brilliant mr Clemens , I enjoyed our chat and after you went I finished with a race win ( finally).. Look forward to seeing you again and reading your meeting report.. Bye for now . Gary. Sorry I missed that race Gary - glad you made it in the end. Hope to see you again soon take care Yep that sausage sandwich - it leaves a sour taste in your mouth - well at least it would have done if the shop had have been open tee hee One of these days I will have to do some red flagging at Newcastle and do a report about your place. We can always dream Take care Dave

Amateur Meeting Number 72 Saturday September 8th 2012 The Elastic Band Broke – and kept on breaking It’s been a long time since I made my way to the Eddie Wright Speedway play ground. You can forget all about speedway quite easily. You don’t go for a long time, the thought recedes to the back of your mind, time passes by and once again it’s years since you have been. I have Sunday and Monday off, this meeting was on Saturday, so I thought I’d go there and reacquaint myself with what speedway is, or what I thought it was. Having not been for at least 6 months, it always takes a lot of motivation to hit the road. The weather forecast said the sun would be shining it would be a brilliant day. I was hoping it would be and we would soon find out. I was going to e mail Richard I was coming, that I would be bringing rain and a cold wind, because otherwise, I wouldn’t feel at home. It was a sunny day on Friday when I thought that thought. I thought it would be a good idea to have a laugh. Not a problem when the weather forecast said it was going to be a wonderful day on Saturday. Just as I sat down to write that email an ominous black cloud appeared overhead, I changed my mind about that e mail after all we didn’t want to tempt fate, did we? It was a steady drive down, no rush to get there, a meal along the way, to set me up for the day and it was a good job I did. The coffee bar was closed, so there was no chance of a sausage sandwich today. It was a good job I brought my flask of coffee and sandwiches with me, wasn’t it!!!!! Eventually I arrived, driving down the final bumpy few yards into the stadium car park. I noticed the gate was closed. Could it be the day’s meeting wasn’t going to be on? Had I driven all this way for nothing? I realized one gate was closed the other one open, a deft trick or is that daft, to confuse an old man, unsure in which direction he was heading. There were vehicles there, signs of life, people in the car park, glancing my way, looks on their faces saying, who are you? It was great to be alive and at the Eddie Wright Speedway playground once again I thought I ought to go and get myself a program of the day’s events. I knew there would be over 60 races to be run, there always is. People were queuing, at the office to sign in. A lady stood at the head of the line saying she’d forgotten her highlighters. I checked to see if I had brought mine. I waited patiently in the queue. Richard was sat there, oblivious to my presence, showing off his knobbly knees, a tribute to the shining sun. Then all of a sudden he spotted me, welcomed me home like the prodigal son. He didn’t have a fatted calf for me, or a sausage sandwich already cooked and wrapped up in a lovely bread bun. No he had none of this for me, what he did have was a program and when I asked him if he needed assistance this day, I knew he would have a red flag with my name written on it. The track it looked very wet to my age old practiced eye. It looked like a mud swamp a lumpy gritty mud pie. I was sure that the sun that was shining would soon dry it all out. Also as my aged limbs now ache a lot, I found myself a chair that I could sit upon. The days are done when I can stand up on that centre green, for hours on end freezing my whatnots’ off. I sat there for quite awhile, and then a little while longer, I was waiting for the meeting to start, for as you know, the absence of speedway in my life, makes me all the more fonder for it to begin. The clock, and time itself ticked by and eventually you wonder why, at 15 past the hour of one, the meeting wasn’t underway. More to the point there was something missing, that something, all good flag wavers rely upon and that is a good red flag to hold in your hand, to wave the passing riders by, in case one of them fall off. It was obvious something was amiss as Richard stood pensive at the gate. “Oy Richard,” shouted little old me, “where’s my flag mate without it I am redundant and I might as well not have come.” Struck by that indisputable logic, and the fact no one else had a flag to wave either, Richard bolted into the pits like a mighty steed, soon returning with a handful of flags said, “here they are take your pick”. I said, “Even though it appears standards are slipping Richard, it’s a no contest mate, it’s a red flag for me.” Finally and at long last the meeting began, with heat four, don’t ask me why, but I knew though, the young men riding weren’t those I thought they were, I did think this was a new way of organizing a meeting , to make it more exciting. The young lads out first got to grips with the track, those who followed ended up in a heap on the first bend. The track was greasy but it wouldn’t be long before clouds of dust would rise up and those lads were back on their bikes again. There are those who ride each time I come, some there simply for fun. There is the older end, someone told me there was a man, aged 66, there come all the way from Edinburgh just to get to grips with that greasy track. Some of the racing can be monotonous, other races can be thrilling and there are those that can be downright boring. All ages come there to learn the trade and to see what they can do. There is a place there for you, if you want to have a go. There is always room for new blood at the Eddie Wright speedway playground. I met an old trouper there who paints pictures of speedway with his camera and his paint brush. It had been a long time since I last saw him and it it’s always a pleasure to reacquaint myself with this speedway artist. We compared notes on physical ailments and realized then each time we met we were a little bit older. Good job it was a warm day for I am sure we’d freeze if the weather were colder. There also was the master of track maintenance, the owner of the track, riding round on his grading machine. He drove the water truck to spray on the track when the dust began to rise once again. It took so long that I thought he ought to drive it through the fence on the fourth bend, just for old times’ sake. As he did once before when he lost his way on the track he owned. Once the racing got underway, you would have thought things would run smoothly and we would get through the scheduled 67 races in the 4 hours allotted. It was then that the elastic band broke. How did I know the elastic band was broke? A voice from the starting line, in the direction of Richard shouted, “The elastic has broken.” That’s how I knew, little old perceptive me. “Where is the elastic,” shouted a plaintive voice across the dusty track? There didn’t seem to be an answer till someone shouted back, “in the box.” I expected someone to shout back, “in which box?” I was going to shout back, “The one in the cupboard in a house far away, you’ll have to send someone to fetch it and hope they get back with it today.” I didn’t of course because that would have been stretching incredulity to stretching point. Tee Hee !!!!! The racing resumed and as I said to the man, whose name I always look for, when Richard posts the names, of those riding that day. “I always look for your name, said I to Gary O’Hare, “for when you are there I always know I will see some top class racing, before the day is through.” The problem of Gary, of course is, as he himself pointed out, because he was a former rider, everyone there saw him as someone they had to beat. Nice for those who stand on the side and watch the day go by. Not for those who have to ride against those who have something to prove. All the more incredible when you realize, has Gary said to me, “I only ride once a month, sometimes it’s hard to get into the groove, the way I would like to do.” There was impressive riding from Henning Loof and Tyson Snow. Being able to see that kind of riding makes it all worthwhile travelling the 60 miles I have to do, to get to see these men at work. I still can’t get my head round the fact that local people aren’t queuing up to help out at the track. If Halifax had been round the corner from me when their track was open and they were running meetings like these, I would be biting their hand off to let me help out. Then that race came around when there was a bad crash on the first bend. A rider came off and according to the way people were rushing around, it seemed to me the rider concerned had his foot trapped, somewhere in the bike. There was a lengthy delay before they were taken into ambulance. Time had moved on at this point and I had to leave at 5pm. They had to send for an ambulance from the hospital. I decided to leave as it was 4:30 pm and I knew by the time they restarted the meeting, I would have to go any way. As always I was glad I had moved my aching bones, out of the familiar, to reacquaint myself with this sport of ours. There is always someone there to reminisce about what had gone before. Better we agreed to have something to talk about other than the hot topics of today. These days it seems the same old topics are recycled over and over again, giving the impression speedway is a sport going nowhere, except to where it has already been. It’s a circular thing, if you see what I mean. As Richard says, it is good to see new young faces appearing at the track. There is always hope for the future when they turn up. There may even be those who criticize the fact there were 2 young children there riding round the track. They could not have been more than 5 or 6 years old riding round on their very tiny bikes. The announcer was almost apologizing that they were riding 4 laps. Though it didn’t matter to me, they were, as it gave me a chance to sit down, have a sandwich, drink my coffee and ease my aching bones. You never know we could have been looking at a new world champion, in embryo. I had to go, don’t know when I will return it must have been over 6 months since I last saw some speedway racing. In that time, as we all know the elastic band has broken in speedway in so many ways and for one it has broken permanently and for all of us, none of it will be the same again. I drove past the ambulance as I was leaving the track. I could see they were transferring the unfortunate rider, to the ambulance that had come from the hospital. I hope all is well and the injury is not bad and the rider will return to ride again. Meanwhile I returned to the mundane all those things that prevent people from doing what they like to do most. I will be there again one day, don’t know when that will be, at the place that gives me the opportunity to breathe the air around the sport I love and always will. Audio version

Might have left you stone cold but ranks as best final I ever saw

Of all the well deserveds there have been - this must be one of the greatest well deserveds ever. Congratulations Greg Hancock

It's not Jersinski is it No I didn't think so - mine's a bitter

My Pleasure

A Noble Deed A Noble Post

To my mind it was the plane crash that woke Gollob up - made him realise the 'god given talent' he had It was the fact that the plane crash woke him up to what he could have done over the years, as opposed to what he did. My feeling was, he'd decided to 'make up for lost titles'. As such, myself, I thought he'd win it last year - but it didn't happen -as his title challenge faded way - as, seemingly - that 'revelation' he had must have lost its potency. But not so - he kept at it and finally fulfilled himself. For me he's one of the most exciting entertaining riders I have ever seen and a worthy world champion. I knew I was right to include him in my All Time Greats Grand Prix

Yep we was there and with the score 31 - 16 at heat 8, we were ruminating on what a bit of a walkover it was and why we hadn't gone to Belle Vue instead. Being a Zenon Plech fan though was the reason I was there. We even calculated what they had to do to beat the Dukes, which we dismissed out of hand, as it was unlikely they would get five 5 - 1's Didn't even think they couldn't do it as there was no indication in the way the meeting was going it was ever likely to happen. When they did, of course there were thoughts of subterfuge flying around, but really we just wrote it off as a strange state of affairs, that we hadn't seen happen before or think likely to happen again.

A REMINISCE OF OLD HALIFAX AND OF A DEAD SPEEDWAY RIDER Inspired by the Eric Boothroyd story in the Speedway Star Those words written Reminded me of yesteryear Days gone by And all the time I was thinking that I Should go and speak with A dead speedway rider But I was thinking of Days gone by I looked at the sky And then looked down I saw myself on my way To that old speedway ground I saw myself getting into my car Driven every week by my friend Who said I didn’t go fast enough for him We always set off at 6:30 pm sharp To arrive at the Shay at a quarter past seven The place where they said ‘You can’t recreate heaven’ Parked the car on the main road Walked down the slope To the turn style gate paid our money Walked right in to watch them take a spin And all the time My thoughts kept returning To something else on my mind I knew I should go and speak with A dead speedway rider But I was already busy with Buying my program Putting it into my folder The one with the white elephant on Then walking onto those concrete steps You would always find us on Step number fourteen Two yards from the concrete wall That divided us from those Who wanted to sit down But in this dream There was no one there The stadium was bare Recreated in this thought All these reminisces we share Stood in that bowl That holy hole in the ground Not a sound was heard But the one provided by A mild breeze blowing The dust from the track Swirling round arising Even as I put out my hand To catch the grit swirling I just knew I ought to go And speak with A dead speedway rider gone A time so long ago On the left hand side of that holy bowl That hole in the ground No one stood on the steep bank That sweeps down to the old white fence Along the back straight We stood there once and never again Even now you can see the people Living in the block of flats Watching the racing Sat on their sofas Sipping from their cups of tea But even so I knew I had to go And speak with A dead speedway rider But my thoughts reminded me Of the bus crews who Hung over the wall To watch for nothing The life and the soul Watching the riders go by And we always ask why Some of them have to die We walk down the front Past the grand stand Right down to the pits Passed that dapperly dressed man With his brown coat and fur lined collar Who would nod his head at you But we never spoke There was nothing to say We thought we would Always be there Stood on that concrete stair For ever and a day But everything changes Nothing ever remains the same And we walk out onto the track Place our feet on that holy dust Why don’t they bring it back The should never ever have left And we walk round and round Lap after lap Going faster and faster Riding round the banks Going wider and wider And we always thought They would sort everything out And we would always be there But they made the mistake of Taking it elsewhere It was right then I just knew I had to go and speak with A dead speedway rider They took it somewhere else And right there the dream almost ended Ripped out the heart and the soul of All we had supported together You could simply give up going Or find yourself deported To some strange place I think they called Bradford But that old track is still there Because even as you look at All those old pictures You immediately feel that breeze blowing Your hand still held out reaching For the pieces of grit floating Through the ether Where all those memories live Yes right there where No one can touch them We can see it all clearly Deep in our minds eye Where all of these dreams unwind Where it will always live I am there right now Stood on step fourteen Living in the dream Smelling the aromas Floating through the rafters Then we got racing Served up for ‘afters’ And I finally go to speak with A long dead speedway rider A long, long time gone And I said to him ‘What is it like in Valhalla’? He said ‘All of us can ride Any track you put before us And all those other souls departed Joined in the chorus Come up some time and watch us’ And I said ‘Is all this not magnificent then’!!! As all of us caught grains of dust In our hands And thought of that strange land we called Our Paradise The Shay

Well done Denmark Tonight's meeting is what speedway is all about Gripping from start to finish At least for those who stayed on their bikes

Well done Mr Gollob

well done leigh adams a worth winner

Well done Mr Gollob