New Reminiscenses About Fans’ Favourite
Remarkably, it is 51 years this month since Derek Dougan scored the last of his 123 Wolves goals. Regular contributor Chris Westcott marks the anniversary with some personal recollections of a visit by the genial forward to his Sussex home and a follow-up stay that tragically never materialised.
Chris Westcott with Derek Dougan.
June 24, 2007 was a Sunday and my wife Linda and I were looking forward to the arrival of The Doog and his charming partner, Merlyn.
I popped out in the morning for last-minute supplies and, on returning, was told by Linda in a trembling voice: “Merlyn’s been on the phone. It’s Derek….he’s had a heart attack.”
Merlyn was somehow sufficiently composed to elaborate – “his heart was used up and his doctor, a personal friend, was not at all surprised.”
Among the gamut of emotions was the huge relief that Linda took that call. She was a voluntary Samaritan and knew how to listen to a call of that nature and deal with it.
This would have been their second journey down to stay with us in Sussex. Three months earlier, The Doog was here in his capacity as chairman of XPro, the organisation he headed up in support of ex-professional footballers. On this particular occasion, he was representing his old Portsmouth team-mate, goalkeeper Norman Uprichard, at an industrial tribunal in Eastbourne and attempting to secure an increase in his disability benefit because of acute arthritis in both hands.
I’d known The Doog for a while. He kindly contributed to my book on Ernie Hunt and used his Irish charm to persuade me to ghost-write Uprichard’s autobiography.
Norman Uprichard saves from Roy Swinbourne in a Wolves game against Portsmouth at Fratton Park.
He was very fond of his fellow Irishman, who lived along the coast at Hastings and who took The Doog under his wing when he first came to England and signed for Pompey in August, 1957. That proved dangerous, as Norman could best be described as a scallywag.
Norman knew Derek’s father very well and worked with him for a while as a labourer at Harland & Wolff in Belfast. Geography was not Derek’s strongest suit at the time. He had no idea where Portsmouth was, so Norman, ten years his senior, promised Doog’s father he would look after him.
Their visit to us in March, 2007 was eagerly awaited. We had a phone call from Merlyn shortly before their arrival and could hear an agitated Doog in the background, typically contradicting my instructions over the best route.
On arrival, they parked in the street outside, about 20 yeards up the road. “Will it be safe here, will I still have four wheels in the morning?” asked The Doog. “This is Eastbourne, not The Bronx,” I gently explained by way of reassurance.
Derek Dougan in action for Wolves at West Ham.
I was very much looking forward to being regaled by The Doog with as many football anecdotes as could possibly be told in one evening. But, as soon as he heard my wife was a Samaritan and had to undertake a night shift, he wanted to know all about her role. The football stories would have to wait.
Linda left me to sort out dinner and, with the shepherd’s pie in the oven, all I had to do was make sure it wasn’t overdone. I’m afraid even that was beyond my capability, as by now The Doog was in full flow and I forgot all about it. It turned out to be a hugely entertaining (and late) evening.
They attended the tribunal the next morning, when, unfortunately, there was some missing documentation among the papers. The case was adjourned for three months, hence the planned return in the June.
When the tribunal was reconvened, Norman wasn’t able to put forward his argument effectively without The Doog and was unsuccessful in his claim. His autobiography was published in 2011 and he was very much looking forward to promoting it back in Belfast. However, he too sadly suffered a heart attack (in January, 2011) and passed away shortly afterwards.
We kept in touch with Merlyn for many years after Derek’s death. She’s now 84, not in the best of health but managing to retain her independence.
She recalled life with The Doog and said it was unpredictable from day one. “How much money have you got?” he mischievously asked her at their very first meeting.
She sent me a copy of her last photo of Derek, taken at Marbella in March, 2007, shortly before they stayed with us. The Doog didn’t normally venture on to the beach, as it caused discomfort in his feet – by this time, he’d suffered a number of health issues. Hence he kept his shoes on.
What struck Merlyn was that The Doog had never waved at her with both hands outstretched. With hindsight, she felt that was very strange.
As well as his XPro activities, he was always working on various other projects, typically about half a dozen at a time. Most came to fruition, some fell by the wayside.
‘Strange’ waves on the beach….
He wasn’t the most organised despite Merlyn’s valiant efforts and, in his personal life, legal and cost implications evidently prompted him to defer divorcing his German wife, Jutta.
Nor did he make a will. He was so busy supporting others that he neglected putting his own house in order to the extent that, on hearing the news of The Doog’s death, Jutta flew from her home in Germany and effectively took possession of the house.
Thankfully, tensions that had undermined family relationships for a while were set aside for the funeral on July 5, 2007 at the Collegiate Church of St. Peter in Wolverhampton.
Yes, of course Derek was a complex individual and there were many human frailties. But Linda and I felt hugely privileged.