In October 1935, the charming anecdote above graced the pages of the Leicester Mail. Mr. F. Orton of Birstall fondly recounted a seemingly unforgettable match at Filbert Street, painting a vivid picture of a Fosse goalkeeper, “Jimmy Thraves,” battling atrocious conditions in an overcoat, leading his team to a resounding 5-1 victory. It’s a tale that delights and endures, but as with many cherished memories, the cold light of historical fact reveals a slightly different picture.
The core of Mr. Orton’s reminiscence certainly holds truth. Leicester Fosse did indeed face Doncaster Rovers at Filbert Street in November 1893, and contemporary reports confirm the conditions were, as described, “atrocious.” The early days of professional football were often played on pitches that would make modern players shudder, and the elements were a formidable opponent in themselves.
Owing to its exposed location, the Fosse ground took the brunt of a gale-force wind and snow that had begun early on the morning of the game. The Fosse committee was truly in a quandary. Doncaster Rovers had made the long journey and were prepared to take the field. Fosse had to show willingness or face the consequences of a forfeited match.
Local reporters of the time pulled no punches, stating, “there is a limit to human endurance, and this was reached in the match under notice… It was a great hardship that the players should have to turn out, but as no protest was made before the match commenced, one must conclude that the visitors were prepared to abide by the result. The men were not playing at football so much as they were battling against the elements.” Players endured a cheerless, uncomfortable fifty minutes, highlighting the sheer resilience required in early football.
Despite the severe weather, play in the opening half was fairly equal, with Fosse having an advantage in shots at goal, though many went wide. Brown eventually hit the back of the net for the Fosse and Doncaster’s Cartwright equalised shortly after. The teams went in a the interval 1-1. Minutes after the restart Billy (not Jimmy) Dorrell scored for Fosse, giving them a 2-1 lead. It was a “grand” goal, as reported at the time. However, the severe weather proved too much. Rovers succumbed almost immediately after Dorrell scored, not to their opponents – though they were indeed losing 2-1 at the time – but to the brutal conditions. The weather remained equally bad throughout the game, with press and spectators alike wondering why no protest had been lodged before kick-off. As one reporter succinctly put it: “Rovers conceded two points to the Fosse by leaving the field. They ought not to have entered it.”
Attendance was very limited, a predictable consequence of the weather. In a bizarre moment of spectator zeal, a few rallied the poor, shivering Rovers players, accusing them of “unmanly” and “cowardly” conduct for leaving the field. “Truly football spectating is a mad mania,” remarked one observer, perfectly capturing the fervent, if sometimes misguided, passion of the fans.
The final score of that November 1893 encounter was not a dominant 5-1, as Mr. Orton recalled, but a far tighter 2-1 victory for Leicester Fosse, with Rovers ultimately forfeiting the game. While still a win, it certainly lacked the emphatic flourish suggested by the 1935 recollection.
Perhaps the most colourful, and indeed, enduring, image from Mr. Orton’s account is that of the Fosse goalkeeper, “Jimmy Thraves,” bravely sporting an overcoat. While no newspaper reports from the time explicitly mention a specific Fosse keeper wearing an overcoat in that particular match, it’s crucial to consider the context of the era. In the nascent stages of professional football, practicality often trumped aesthetics. Goalkeepers, enduring long periods of inactivity in harsh weather, sometimes resorted to unconventional attire to stay warm. The sight of a keeper in an overcoat, while perhaps unusual to modern eyes, was not an uncommon practice in those early, rugged days of the sport. It speaks to the sheer determination of players battling the elements, prioritising warmth and comfort over any sartorial standards.
So, while Mr. Orton’s charming anecdote may not be 100% accurate in its minutiae, it captures the essence of early football: the challenging conditions, the passionate play, and the often-unvarnished reality of the game. It reminds us that history, particularly oral history, is often a blend of precise facts and the vibrant hues of personal memory. The tale of the overcoat goalkeeper, even with its slight embellishments, offers a delightful window into Leicester Fosse’s past, reminding us of the grit and character that forged the club’s legacy long before the polished stadiums and televised matches of today. It’s a testament to the enduring power of a good story, even if a few of the details have been warmed up by time.