The Last One Picked: Playground Lessons from Blaenymaes
In the Blaenymaes of the early 1960s, our world was the street, the waste ground, and the schoolyard. In those days, there were always kids about. The weather didnât really matter to us, if you didnât play when it rained in Swansea, you werenât going to get out much. Weâd often play football in the street just outside the house, using jackets or pullovers to mark the goalposts.
The Battlefield and the Ruins
Close by, there was an overgrown patch of waste ground with the ruins of a house. That became our new battlefield, where we re-enacted World War II just as we had back at the Bank. To my disappointment, Spitfires, Hurricanes, and Messerschmitts werenât quite as popular among the Bardsey Avenue crew. Still, it didnât take much to spark a war â a stick, a crate, and a bit of imagination were enough.
A Futuristic School and a Brutal Jungle Gym
One pleasant surprise was my new school, Blaenymaes Primary. Compared to Danygraig, it felt almost futuristic. It had a large schoolyard, a proper football pitch, and, wonder of wonders, a Jungle Gym. It even had indoor toilets, which sadly put an end to the great âwho can pee highestâ competitions.
Another great thing was that the school grounds were still accessible after hours. The Jungle Gym became one of our unofficial meeting points, and when we could rally enough kids, weâd play football on the pitch. One set of goals was usually placed on the halfway line, small legs can only run so much.
I once heard an American comedian say that no child had ever asked for something they could spin around on, get dizzy, and puke. He was talking about roundabouts, but I think the same could be said for Jungle Gyms. Ours was planted straight onto hard tarmac. Kids were always hanging upside down and falling off it. Maybe it was meant to teach us our limits. All I learned was that it bloody hurt.
The Agony of Being the Last Pick
The school had a strong football team that won most of its matches against other schools. I, however, was useless at football. My trademark move was the poorly timed slide tackle, I either missed the ball completely or brought down the other player. As a kid, thereâs no hiding your lack of talent in team sports. It becomes clear the moment the team captains start choosing sides, and youâre one of the last ones standing there, trying not to look too bothered.
School life wasnât all bruised shins and lost football matches, though. There were the teachers, some strict, some kind, and some unexpectedly thought-provoking. One in particular managed to shake my Sunday School view of the world with just a few wordsâŚ