In mid September 2003 a young Northern (fake) Irish man arrived at Royal Holloway University trials, he brought with him a mane of luminous ginger/orange hair (hmm sounds familiar), an abundance of arrogance, limited football skills and a beautiful silver ring. Under the tutelage/castigation of the match box and snake bite Andy emerged, three years later, a bettered and changed man. With his development as a human being so inextricably linked with Royal Holloway Football Club the only option for Andy was to join the Old Boys, and that he did.
A year of deep defending, slide tackling, headers and raillery (a tenuous link to our sponsors at the time), compounded Andy’s belief that he wanted to lead this loyal band of merry men, yet he knew he wasn’t ready. As a devout Christian (a virgin till marriage don’t you know), Andy followed the example set by his hero Jesus and left the security of the Old Boys and entered into the comparative wilderness of travelling. He returned an even more rounded individual, man tits and all.
Once back with the brotherhood, his leadership skills emerged, taking over the captaincy of the 1st XI before it was discovered that he really wasn’t good enough on or off the pitch. The only option was to take over the leadership of the club, bringing in its first ever dedicated manager, and giving the club the kind of direction that only a man with his single-minded determination could bring. Despite his attempts to assert his authority over such decisions, no-one was convinced that his new found role made him either a midfielder or striker in either team.
The arrival (finally) of a female in his life and a mini Van Cuylenburg saw appearances in the Old Boys shirt decline (both in numbers and quality), and Andy danced off into the sunset for a life in the country. However that is no excuse for the kind of attire he was last seen sporting – it’s all very well trying to blend in with the locals impersonating a Dingle is taking things a bit far.