The first football-playing Skinhead

THE great TV chat show host Michael Parkinson always used to go on about one player who, to him, epitomised Barnsley and why he loved the club. The guy was a raw, tough-tackling half back called Skinner Normanton.
According to the obituary that Parkinson wrote for The Times, Skinner played for Barnsley between 1947 and 1953 and achieved legendary status. He was the hard man of the side, providing protection for the ball carrying, more creative midfielders.
He became such a legendary figure that there was a Skinner Normanton Appreciation Society in Kuala Lumpar, and mothers used to threaten their children that if they didn't behave they would "Send for Skinner".
Parky says: "There wasn't much of him, but every bit counted. He was as relentless as a heat-seeking missile in the tackle".
He suggested that Barnsley should name a stand after him because "it would be a constant reminder that no matter how much we merchandise the modern game we must always remember what we are selling.
"Nowadays they talk about image. There was a time, when Skinner was a lad, when it had soul."
The reason I mention Skinner is that I, too, had a hero in that mould during my younger days supporting the Gas.
To me, he was the soul of Bristol Rovers, a player who wore his heart on his sleeve, a Gashead through and through, who remained loyal for 13 years and made 362 appearances.
His name was Frankie Prince.
What I remember most about Frankie - and this shouldn't read as an obituary because I imagine he's still alive, but have no idea what he is doing now - was that he looked like the first-ever football playing skinhead. He had tight cropped hair and it always appeared that while everyone else was wearing the latest fancy football footwear, he was playing in bovver boots. Not surprisingly he wasn't blessed with pace.
He certainly put himself about a bit, though, and at the time there was a regular argument between Rovers and City fans over who was the hardest - Frankie or their midfielder Gerry Gow, who went on to earn a big-money move to Manchester City, where he played in the 1981 Cup final which Spurs won in a replay thanks to Ricky Villa's wonder goal.
I don't think they ever organised a boxing match between Prince and Gow, but it would have sold a hell of a lot of tickets.
Frankie had a softer side, too, from what I understand. Apparently he once bought the lady who swept the terraces a cuddly toy Koala Bear as a present.
I also found an old diary when packing to move house in which I had noted he actually gave me and some of my mates a lift home from a Rovers game once when the bus failed to arrive on the Stapleton Road. I'm amazed I can't remember it, but perhaps that is why he has stuck in my mind as my all-time Gas hero.
A Welshman from Penarth, he was an apprentice in 1967 and I imagine he was a product of our very successful South Wales nursery. It's a shame we don't have one now.
But I mention Frankie simply because we have another young Welshman playing for us at the moment who has had plenty of critics, but is starting to win them around.
Byron Anthony is happy to play in any position the management require of him, and has been getting top reports this season. On Saturday, taking a bullet for the team, he turned out at left back, even though he has been performing well on the right and in the centre of defence.
With club loyalty as it is these days, I doubt Byron will ever become the kind of hero to youngsters that Frankie is to me.
But I hope he continues to improve, wins around the boo boys and stays loyal so that one day he will be considered "a true Gashead".